#i stopped being specific about my ED for a REASON.

[inkskinned]

im gonna start a fight; and, at the same time, i need you to take this in the most good-faith way possible, but:

videos that involve body-checking and intentionally (and uncritically) show a mealplan of an unhealthy number of calories are just a revamped version of pro-ana food diaries.

and yeah, i know there's arguments. i address some of them under the cut. but at the end of the day, we're just coming back to romanticizing mental illness; we've just found a better platform for it.

this is already something we've done. we knew it was wrong and tried to stop it. and tbh. it just wasn't enough.

there are people who argue "well, what if you have an eating disorder, you can't help it if you don't eat!" except that as someone with an ED; we are not infants. we know what we're doing. part of having an ED is that you are like, maybe too self-aware. even if we can't help our own food choices, we don't need to fucking romanticize the disorder - something we've been warning you about since 2013. there are hours of setup, filming, and editing that go into these videos. they do not happen to fall into place randomly. there is a reason they are pieced together to be beautiful, bright, inspiring.

there's this woman who pretty much only posts daily plans under a normal amount of calories, and everyone defends her saying but it's better than nothing! and i'm like. except she opens those with images of her showing off her body and provides no context in the video or caption that suggests that she believes what she's doing is unhealthy. she has hundreds of thousands of followers on a platform designed for young kids and teens. i refuse to believe that by accident her content just happens to be cheery advice on "healthy" versions of starving.

for any other symptom of mental illness, we would be incredibly enraged by this kind of placid acceptance of a "tips and tricks" fast-start guide. imagine if people posted pink & pretty videos saying "best places to cut yourself" as if it was a fucking storytime. we, as a society, are so fucking fatphobic that we would rather accept blatantly harmful displays of self harm than admit that we are obsessed with a hyper-thin body type.

i am not suggesting someone never talks about their disorder. i talk about mine. actually, it's a plot point in my book.

here's the difference: i recognize it's a fucking mental illness. i am very careful to never mention a specific weight, eating pattern, or calorie plan. i always make sure to position it as something that ruined my fucking life. i do not put cheery music in the background and hearts and sparkles over my worst moments. i do not film it in bright light. i do not start each passage with an image of a thin body followed by "here's how to look like her."

eating disorders should not be framed as aspirational. and the problem is that society worships the "after" image, so long as you don't get too sick. there is a reason so many people who quit being "influencers" will later admit - i wasn't eating well that whole time; an obsession with food was completely destroying my life.

we let any uncredited, uncertified person write the most backwards, fucked up shit about how to get the body you desire! because the underlying, secret belief is: well, at least they're thin! and the real thing that fucking gets me each time - they make fucking money off of it. their irresponsibility and societal harm literally pays off for them.

"why do you care so much." "don't like it don't look." "so what if people experiment with new ways of thinking of food?"

thank you for asking. we're about to get extremely personal. it's because when i was 18 i discovered "thinspiration"/"thinspo." and it absolutely influenced, shaped, and codified my pre-existing eating disorder. i went from having some troubling habits and traits to being incredibly unwell within what felt like a matter of days. there were actual pages designed to train me on how to have an ED correctly. it was all so suddenly easy. i was sick; and the nature of the illness meant - i wanted to be sicker.

it takes an average of 7 years for a person to fully recover. i know this personally - even now, 10 years from the worst of it, i still fucking struggle. i am so much happier now and i eat what i want and i literally don't think about food at all (19 year old me would shudder) and yet - i still fucking know the calories of plain toast with butter.

an eating disorder is one of the deadliest types of mental illness. over 1 in 4 people with an ED will attempt suicide.

and i'm sorry. i just do not see the exchange rate of "high rate of engagement" versus "the value of a human life."

[milf-murdock]

Unsteady (Simon x Johnny x Reader)

Request: Simon and Johnny taking care of F!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny take care of you after you almost pass out at the pub.

TW: heavily implied disordered eating, almost passing out, mental health concerns, medication mentions (nothing specific but could be read as ADHD medication side effects).

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for your request and your kind words! I'm choosing not to publish the ask because I think there are some triggering words that I won't be able to hide under a "read more" line, but I hope that you enjoy this and find some comfort in it.

As someone who has also struggled with EDs in the past, please, please, please do not be afraid to ask for help. There is nothing glamorous about eating disorders. They absolutely need to be taken seriously.

Instead of going the full ED route with this one shot, I took it down a slightly softer path and based it off of my experience with ADHD and how it has led to me accidentally missing meals.

The din of the pub faded into the background as you sat in the corner booth of your favorite pub. You were pressed up against Simon’s bulky frame, one of his strong arms wrapped around your body, keeping you tucked in close. Johnny sat across the booth, taking in his favorite view: you wrapped up in Simon—his two loves, his whole world sat right across the table from him. 

Your empty glass clinked against the others as your set it on the table. “Looks like we’re ready for another round,” you said, smiling up at Johnny. 

“Mm, that it does,” Johnny smiled back at you, and you felt like you could absolutely drown in those ocean eyes. 

“You tryna get us drunk or something, love?” Simon teased, lips pressing against your collarbone. 

“Something like that,” you laughed, turning your head meet his lips for a quick kiss. “Here, I’ll go, order them” you reasoned, being on the outside of the seat and closest to the bar. “Be right back.” You pushed yourself from the booth to your feet, and instantly the entire room started spinning.  Damn, you thought to yourself. That beer is hitting fast. You went to take one tentative step, and then the room started to tilt, the floor coming up at you fast. 

Johnny was out of his seat in an instant, having picked up immediately something was wrong from the moment you stood up. His two large hands reached out to steady you, catching you in his arms. “Easy now,” he grunted,  bracing you both. “I’ve got ye.” He gently lowered you back into the booth, letting your weak form lean up against Simon. Simon’s hands instantly held you against him, supporting you. At the edge of the booth, Johnny got down on one knee so he could be eye level with you. 

“Look at me, hen,” he coaxed. “What’re you feeling?” Johnny grabbed one of the ice waters from the table and gingerly helped bring it to your lips. 

You blinked, trying to get your bearings. The room finally stopped spinning. “M’fine,” you mumble before taking a sip of the water Johnny offered you. The icy cold liquid helped clear your mind. “Just got a bit dizzy.”

Johnny and Simon exchanged knowing glances. 

“What’ve ye had to eat today, lass?” Johnny’s voice was gentle, prodding, but his eyes were a dead giveaway to the concern and hurt he was feeling, already knowing the answer. 

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” you stepped around the question, your voice hesitant. “I think I had a banana this morning?” 

Simon let out a resigned sigh. “I’m assuming that would be half of a banana,” he corrected. “Considering I found the remaining half still in the peel on top of the dresser.”   

You eyelids fluttered shut, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh.” You let out. “Yeah, I went in there to grab one of your jumpers and I must have forgotten it.” 

It happened all the time, you getting distracted mid task. It had gotten even worse since one of the side effects of your medication was a suppressed appetite. You never did have quite a good relationship with food to begin with though. 

“And what about lunch?” Johnny continued his prodding. 

You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours. Wincing, you reply with a mumbled “forgot.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as shame flooded through you. 

At this, both men let out a sigh, completely in synch when it comes to their concern for you. 

“Love, we’ve been over this,” Simon started before being cut off. 

“M’sorry.” Despite your best efforts, a couple tears started to slide down your face. 

Johnny pulls you into his arms. “S’okay, Bonnie,” he soothed, running a hand up and down your back. 

“S’not okay, Johnny,” Simon snapped from the other side of you. “She needs to be eating.” 

Johnny shot Simon a glare. “I know that, Si.” He took a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple, your head buried against his chest. “He’s right though, bonnie. Ye need to be eating.” 

His hand slid up to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

“I know,” you whined, fidgeting under his piercing gaze. 

Simon scooted closer across the booth, a strong hand coming to rest against your back. 

“We just need to know you’re taken care of, love,” Simon began to rub his hand in a soothing circle. “Specially knowing we can’t always be here to take care of you ourselves.” 

“I know,” you sighed, feeling yourself shutting down. 

Simon and Johnny exchange another glance, Simon giving a short nod of approval signaling to back off for now. 

“Just promise us you’ll try,” Johnny pleaded. “For us. Please?”

You nod, sniffling. 

“I promise,” you sighed softly. “I’ll try harder.”

Johnny gave you a crooked smile, a favorite of yours. “Atta girl.” 

Simon pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “Now let’s go get some dinner, love. How’s that sound?” 

“It sounds…” you trailed off.  “Well, I don’t really feel that well.” 

Simon nodded his head knowingly. “Well that’s cause you’ve hardly eaten today.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Probably.” 

“Something easy then,” Johnny stated matter of factly. “Perfect weather for soup. Think you can manage that, dove?” 

You gave a small nod and let Johnny transfer you over to Simon’s strong arms. 

“Aye, good lass,” he gave you a quick peck. “Si, get our girl home and I’l go pick it up.” 

“Affirmative,” Simon agreed, giving your hip a quick tap to encourage you to try to get on your feet again. 

Johnny stood up and offered you a hand to help you up, Simon’s hands never leaving your hips until they were both certain you weren’t in danger of passing out on them.  

“I’ll see you both at home,” Johnny quipped, giving both you and Simon a quick kiss on the cheek before going to pay the tab. 

Simon helped you shrug into your coat and the two of you made your way out to the brisk Manchester air. 

An hour later, empty takeaway containers littered the coffee table in the living room as you laid on the couch with your loves. You were pressed up against Simon, leaning up against him, tucked under his arm. Your legs were sprawled out across Johnny’s lap, his calloused hands giving you the most delightful foot massage. 

“Y’know we love you, right?” Johnny’s voice broke the silence that had settled over the three of you. 

“I know,” your voice was low. 

“We just worry about you, love,” Simon urged, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“I promise I’ll try to be better.” You sighed softly. “I love you both so much.” 

“We love you too, lass.” Johnny leaned forward to give you a kiss. 

“So much,” Simon finished, pressing another kiss to your exposed neck. 

[darling-i-read-it]

Protection

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: the frat party, a guy being really creepy about flirting and mentions of roofies, descriptions of vomit (briefly), spoilers for insidious 

Author’s Note: I started and restarted this a bunch of times but couldn’t figure out a way to do it that I really liked. I hope this is okay for right now, I appreciate you guys giving me your ideas! Requested: by anon, Heya I love your Dalton Lambert fics brw Had 2 ideas and was wondering if 1. you could write a headcanon/oneshot for Dalton Lambert x Reader where she's all shy/timid when they first meet and then the whole floating away and demon attack thing happens and he wants to protect the reader and from there, their relationship escalates? 2. Smut/Slightly suggested hc for Dalton Lambert x Reader or a relationship HC for them pla You don't have to write both but just had some ideas Requested: by anon, Ello!!! Can you do a fic for Dalton Lambert x Reader where Dalton is kinda like protective if the reader please? The reader is probably round the same age if not a couple years younger and is shy and all but does warm up to him eventually I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator (not my gif)

Dalton’s eyes followed you as he gazed from behind his hair. He had seen you around the building, specifically the floor he was living on. There was a living room area that no one ever actually used at the end of the hall and he had run into you there once or twice, usually in passing. He didn’t realize you had a class together until the second week of class, when he saw your face attentively listening in the back of the classroom. Your lips were pursed with concentration but were so focused on the teacher he didn't think you could see anything else. That’s why he felt so comfortable starring; he truly believed you had no idea. 

The class droned on. It was a gen ed requirement that he would google the answers to. He could sit with his sketchbook open and lightly brushing his pencil over the paper. He didn’t realize he was drawing you until he looked down. He was then made consciously aware of how he saw you. Poised, shy, timid, pretty. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” the professor said, breaking you out of your perfectly sculpted listening gaze. Your eyes went wide with what Dalton assumed was fear. “Do you know the answer?” He looked back up at the board. Some slideshow with a lot of numbers, none that made any sense to him. When had he stopped taking notes? 

You looked down at your own notes. You knew the answer but for some reason it was stuck in your throat. You cleared it, attempting to force the word out of your mouth. You had to look away before you could answer. 

“237,” you offered, voice quiet. 

The professor’s gaze was predatory. Dalton didn’t like the way he was gazing at you, like you were something to be conquered, someone to be broken down. He had never enjoyed the teachers who leached into clearly shy students. The professor nodded, moving along, giving you neither a praise or a follow up question. Your face was now glued down. He had clearly startled you out of your shell. 

When class ended, Dalton got up first. He didn't have as much to put away because he wasn’t actually paying attention. He weaved against the flow of traffic to the back of the room where you were carefully placing your things back into your bag. 

“Don’t worry about him,” he said, without thinking. He should’ve thought twice about letting you know he was watching you but the words had already escaped his mouth. “He’s a dick.” You looked up at Dalton, eyes pretty and doe like. You cleared your throat, another instance of forcing yourself to speak when no words were coming out. 

You nodded instead. 

“You live in the same building as me right? Miller Hall?” You nodded again, this time a sound coming with it. 

“Yeah. Dalton right?” Your voice was still quiet but he smiled at the reassurance that he was also noticed. 

“Yeah. Y/N?” You nodded back at him. You stood up from your chair, putting your bag over your shoulder. “Are you going back there? I don’t mean to ask in a creepy way, swear.” He chuckled nervously. “I was just heading back and was wondering if you wanted some company.” Suddenly he was the shy one. He felt like cowering under your gaze, revoking his invitation and running out the door. He tried to remember what his mom had said about making friends. All he had right now was Chris and she had other friends. He needed to branch out. Branching out could help him with his sleep issues. 

“Sure,” you said finally, voice surprisingly pleasant. “This is my last class today.” He smiled, all teeth and gums, while he moved out of the way so you could go first. 

“Me too. I took way too many early classes.” 

“Same,” you said. You walked out the door and he followed quickly behind to keep in pace with you. It was a nice fall day, leaves falling down and gathering in the grass. Weeds were overgrown, no one was lingering out in the cold. The walk back would be uneventful but peaceful. “How do you like the building?” 

“It’s fine. We live too high up for my taste.” 

“And the elevators are always broken,” you said. 

“Yes! That should be illegal when there are so many floors.” The comradery broke some tension between the two of you. Your smile lost some tension. 

“Do you have a roommate?” you questioned. 

“I did but not anymore. Her name’s Chris so we got mixed up on the gender assignments,” he explained. “You?” 

“Not currently, no. I was lucky and didn’t have anyone to start with.” You held your bag close to your side. Dalton weaved through the cobblestone walkway that had quickly become familiar to him. “The building settles a lot at night. It can get spooky by myself.” 

“I hear that,” he muttered. “I still have a nightlight.” He wasn’t sure why he had admitted that you didn’t give him any crazed reaction. 

“It can get dark,” you admitted. Your lack of judgment made him feel a little bit safer as the walk continued. He wondered how many doors down you were. He wondered if maybe you would be up for a sleepover later in your friendship, just so that neither of you get scared anymore. His mind wandered and he didn’t reel any thoughts back in as you asked him about his art. 

-

Dalton enjoyed hanging out with you. He hadn’t known a person to sit quietly with him while he worked and you worked and you both just enjoyed having someone else there. You would walk down to his room, bare feet padded on the hardwood floor, and knock on his door, with your textbooks tucked under your arm.

You got the spare bed while he sketched, playing some music quietly from his music. This is how you would spend time together. Talking when necessary but never feeling pressured to. It was easy to get lost in silence when Dalton got zoned into his work. 

Chris opened the door without knocking.

“We should go to the frat party tonight,” she announced instead of saying hello. You and Dalton looked up. You even jumped at the sudden change of atmosphere. You were nose deep in work. You had met Chris in passing and knew she was friends with Dalton. She had always been kind to you, if not a little invasive. You didn’t mind here though. 

“All of us?” you asked, voice quiet. 

“I think you need to get out of your shell. Both of you. You’re so preoccupied with things going on in your brain it seems like I can never get you to hang out like normal people.” Dalton shared a wary glance with you. 

“I don’t know Chris,” he said. 

“I do.” She took a step forward. “What’s the worst that could happen? You get drunk and have to come home? It’s boring and we leave early?” 

“Frat parties have never exactly been safe for girls,” you told her, caution laced in your voice. 

“I’ll be there,” Chris said. 

“So will I,” Dalton said, with more umph. You met his gaze. There was a glaze of protection over his eyes that made you feel better about going. It also left you with a small warm pit in your stomach, something akin to appreciation or adoration. You gave him a warm smile. 

“I don’t know guys,” you said. 

“C’mon. You have gotta get out eventually. Why not sooner rather than later?” 

Dalton gave you a look again. He was asking you with his eyes if you were okay with it. After spending some time together in silence, you had gotten used to reading each other's expressions. You shrugged. He narrowed his eyes. You opened yours wider, shaking your head in disinterest. 

“Okay no more Jedi mind talk,” Chris said. “Yes or no?” 

“We’ll go,” you said. Dalton tried to hide his surprise. 

“Sounds like we’re going then.”

-

The frat party was loud. It was so loud that you could barely hear yourself think over the people screaming at each other, stumbling over the furniture and spilling drinks onto the ground. It was slippery and unwelcoming. It was nothing you had ever actually experienced before. You tried so hard to keep yourself out of these situations so you didn’t have to be uncomfortable for an extended period of time. 

You found yourself standing closer to Dalton, as close as you had ever actually been to him. There is something special about being stuck in an unwelcoming space and becoming even closer with people you wouldn’t have otherwise been so close with. Chris pushed forward. 

You found a mostly empty doorway and gathered like you were going to make a game plan or something. 

“Let’s be nosy upstairs,” Chris said. You immediately cramped up with the thought of someone walking in on you being in their space. “We’re already here. Why not? You wanna stay down here?” Chris questioned. You could tell she was trying to be helpful. You really liked her and appreciated her excitement but was already way too far out of your comfort zone. 

“You can go. I can go find some crackers or something,” you said to Dalton. He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. 

“I can stay with you.”

“No, no. There could be something up there that’s fun. Bring me down a present.” He shared a glance with Chris. 

“See? She’s giving you permission Dalton, let’s go.” You rolled your eyes playfully and shoved him forward a little. He looked back between the two of you but Chris was already grabbing his arm. “She’ll keep her phone on.” She dragged him by the arm upstairs. 

You turned back to the crowd. There were a few people there you recognized from class but no one you were friends with. You cleared your throat and straightened your back. You could do this. You could be a college student who goes and gets a shitty drink and lurks in the background. 

The kitchen was less packed, which you were grateful for. There were straggled, circling the kitchen island. There was a bunch of finger food that you didn’t exactly trust. You found a punch bowl, which you didn’t trust either, but grabbed a solo cup anyway. You tried to slink back, not make too much attention as you waited for Chris and Dalton to come back down. 

You walked back towards the main room where the music was being played. You bumped into others who paid you no mind. The dance floor was the best for people to watch. There were girls there with pretty makeup and interesting outfit choices. They danced, eyes closed, smiling with each other as they drank. The boys watched as well, eyes traveling further down than yours were. 

“Hey.” You turned around, not noticing at first that someone was talking to you. “You’re in my 201 math class right?” 

A boy you didn’t recognize was leaning against the wall beside you. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to place his face. He had a dirty expression on his face that you didn’t like. He was taller than you, looking down and it felt like you were cowering. You shook your head. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“No, I think you are. With Straus?” Maybe you just didn’t pay enough attention to your fellow students in that class. You grabbed the solo cup tighter, holding it to your chest. You thought of all the stories of boys slipping things in girls drinks while they’re unaware. The haunting thought lingered. You suddenly wished Dalton was around and then was startled with how deep your connection with him was. You hadn’t known each other long but you supposed it was just something about living with no real friends in a new environment. 

“It’s a big class,” you lied. He gave an exaggerated nod. 

“Yeah tots.” He moved closer to you. You took a step back and hit the wall. You glanced up to the stairs, unable to find a familiar face. 

Upstairs, Dalton was laying underneath the bed of Nick the Dick. He could see the bathroom through his eyeline, the feet of a boy that should not be there. The puke pooled on the ground, next to his weathered shoes. Nick was standing at the mirror, saying something stupid that Dalton wasn’t listening to. His breathing was weathered. He looked at the door, wishing Chris to come save him, wishing he had brought you upstairs. 

What is that? 

What is that? 

Nick opened the door and left. He crawled out from underneath the bed feverishly and looked up, just to be met with the boy's face again. This time he puked all over Dalton whose eyes shut in surprise and disgust. He scrunched his hands together, trying to throw aside the vision. 

The door opened. Chris emerged. 

“Dalton?” He looked over at him. “Dalton? Are you okay?” He looked back up. Nothing. Nothing. He took a deep breath, eyes still wide and crazed. He got up. Chris was still talking but he pushed past her, mumbling something about how they needed to leave. He barreled down the stairs, pushing past someone as he went. 

He looked across the room. He was still reeling from whatever happened in the bathroom. All the faces looked like a blur. He searched for something familiar, needing to find the face he was looking for. 

Finally he eyes set on you. You were in the corner of the room, being boxed in by some guy he didn’t recognize. The man had an arm over your head, leaning in real close. He could see your face from behind him. 

Dalton pushed forward. He put his hand on the man's arm. You were immediately relieved to see him, even though all the color had drained from his face. 

“What’s going on?” Dalton asked.

“Nothing man.” He noticed the firm grip you had on the top of your drink. This man’s words were not slurred. He was sober and Dalton decided he was dangerous. 

“Is he bothering you?” Dalton asked, eyes going back to you. You didn’t say anything. Your voice remained dead in your throat. If you couldn't talk in the best of times, you couldn’t talk now. 

“Everythings fine,” the guy promised. 

“Let’s go,” Dalton said. He still had cold sweats running down his face. 

“Woah. We were having a conversation here.” Dalton met the guy's face. He didn’t recognize him and he knew his thought process wasn’t sound. He punched the guy anyway. 

You gasped, taking a step back. The guy stumbled back but Dalton had already grabbed your arm and pulled you back into the crowd. It was too loud and no one noticed that there was now some annoyed man trying to follow you through the party. Chris was at the front door waiting. You met her eyes. 

“What happened?” she asked, trying to keep up with Dalton’s fast paced walk. 

“Some guy was scaring her.” 

“Huh?” 

“He was being a lot,” you promised. Even as you walked back towards your building, Dalton’s iron grip was on your arm. 

“What happened before that?” Chris asked. Her voice was stern. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Don’t worry about it right now. Let’s just get back.” You glanced back at the now fading party. You couldn’t see the guy anymore. Dalton had a hard look on his face that you had never seen before. 

“We actually do need to talk about that,” Chris said. “Something happened in there.” 

“We don’t need to get into that,” he promised. He stopped in the middle of the courtyard. You glanced around the dark night. Campus was mostly silent. You saw the security cart go around the corner. 

“You punched someone!” Chris said. 

“He was bothering her!” he said. 

“But what happened to you up there!” You looked between the two of them. He took a deep breath. 

“I saw someone in the bathroom that wasn’t there. I’m having sleep issues.”

“Were you sleeping?” you asked, genuinely concerned. He shook his head. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. He turned his body toward you completely. You nodded. You wouldn’t tell if you actually were. You felt invaded and uncomfortable. The feeling lingered around like that man was hiding behind you. 

“I’m okay.” He grabbed your hand. 

“Are you sure?” You nodded. Chris looked between the two of you. 

“Positive,” you promised. “Are you okay?” He wasn’t but he didn’t say it. He knew that you and Chris would hound him and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He didn't know what he felt about anything right now. 

He nodded. 

Chris rolled her eyes. 

“Are you gonna buy that?” 

“For right now, yeah,” you said. Dalton gave you apologetic eyes. You held his hand, comfortable with it there. Chris took a deep breath. 

“Alright fine. Are you gonna be okay tonight?” He nodded, looking back at her. She nodded slowly and turned to the building. It wasn’t far now. “Maybe we all just need to go to sleep. They spiked the punch or something.” He didn’t want to mention he had nothing to drink so he stayed silent. She gestured for you two to follow her. 

Your hand remained in Dalton’s. He was holding onto it for dear life as his mind reeled. He had the sudden urge to talk to his mom but he pushed it aside. He was a grown man now. He could deal with this alone or with his friends. You took the elevator, that was gratefully working. Chris stopped off at her floor and gave you both goodnights and I’m sorries. 

Finally you were on your floor. 

“Thank you for helping me back there,” you said. You had been meaning to say it but the words kept getting stuck in your head. 

“Of course. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you,” he said. 

“Same.” You walked down to his room. He wanted to drop you off but you kept going past your room, no conversation needed. Neither of you wanted to sleep in a lonely room. He pushed open his door, the silence so loud. You sat down on the spare bed. 

“I’m gonna get changed,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay. I don’t think I wanna be alone right now.” 

“Me too.” He grabbed some clothes and walked to the bathroom. 

When he walked down the hallway he thought about how he wasn’t there for you when you needed him. He had been upstairs, scared of his own accord. Something could have happened. He slowly undressed behind a shower curtain. He could’ve stayed and asked you to leave but he didn’t. 

Whatever this was, whatever was going on in his head, he had no intention of getting you involved. 

None. Not if it meant hurting you.

[desire-mona]

why i think richard cameron is Like That

the long awaited cam analysis post of sorts!!!

so to start off, let me acknowledge the obvious: CAMERON SUCKED FOR WHAT HE DID TO HIS FRIENDS. THAT WAS MEAN AND SHITTY OF HIM, HE DESERVED TO GET PUNCHED IN THE FACE AND HE DESERVED TO HAVE HIS FRIENDS STOP LIKING HIM. this post is just to paint a more nuanced picture of the motivations and reasoning behind his cam-ness. also i feel the need to address that my love for dylan kussman HEAVILY influences my opinion on cameron, so please keep that in find when u read this. if my bias shows at any point then feel free to offer your perspective, odds are i'll find a way to agree :3

-

lets start at the very beginning of the movie, his first appearance with the tradition banner. this obviously wasn't anything i rly thought of in depth on my first watch, but on my second watch i was like oh Hm.

tradition, of course, is a BIG aspect of welton that the movie repeatedly emphasises, drawing lots of attention to how nothing changes. i find cam holding the tradition banner especially interesting in relativity to neil holding the excellence banner specifically. cam very clearly tries his best to embody the rules of welton (more on this later) and very rarely deviates from those rules, although he does on occasion (again - more on this later.) but despite his attempts to be the manifestation of those values are never met with any praise, unlike neil. that's not to say that neil isn't deserving of that praise though, absolutely he is deserving, but in terms of academics specifically, cam's pretty up there too! this part doesnt exactly tie in directly with the rest of the post, but just thought id point it out first to add a layer to the rest of my thoughts.

how i view cam's character arc is something that's framed in a way thats not supposed to be viewed as an arc, i suppose (interesting considering the tradition thing hm). of course thats inaccurate as he does in fact have in arc, it just small in relation to the more forefront-ed poets. and it makes him ultimately less likeable, so.

during a majority of the movie (pre neil death) cam is known as the guy who doesnt like to break rules, that much is obvious, but in the end he still does with the dead poets society. now the reasoning behind that isnt actually touched on in a direct way, so there are a few different ways you can view that. i'll touch on a few different reasonings that me, @pencileraser1, and @good--merits-accumulated came up with.

my reasoning - i see cam's willingness to break the rules as cam holding his friends' idea of him on a high pedestal, constantly taking into consideration what they think. not wanting his friends to consider him a loser or boring in any way, he joins despite the anxiety surrounding being caught. not without fuss though, he does still outwardly talk about how this isnt something they should be doing. all this and yet he does in fact join, AND he doesnt rat anyone out for a majority of the movie (even after the call from god dealio!!!) fomo, basically.

nick's reasoning (found in this post) - he just wanted his friends to be safe!!! joining to (in my view) keep them in line in terms of safety as well as. i guess. provide the reminder of the consequences i suppose?? nick im opening up the floor to u if u wanna delve into this point more cuz ur definitely able to provide better reasoning n such. if asking nick to talk abt things was a full time job.

tristan's reasoning (discussed in dms) - cam's need for authority. tristan brought up a very good headcanon/ theory/ something or other that cam is the type to need constant direction or authority, and i totally agree! (reason for that will - again - come up later.) now this culminates in a couple different ways. 1) most obviously, adhereing (ehh) to the rules of welton, and 2) his relationship with the rest of the poets. due to the size of the welton student body, a lack of individual direction from teachers and staff is almost inevitable. so to fill that gap, he adheres to his friends' """"""rules"""""", and joins the poets. floor is open to you as well if you'd like to elaborate further, tristan :3

my thoughts of cam being super focused on his friends' idea of him actually started as a bit. i believe i made a hc post about smoking weed?? maybe?? and said something along the lines of "cam would smoke even if he doesnt want to, not cuz of peer pressure from his friends but more of a self imposed peer pressure. thinking its rude/ cringe/ uncool to turn down smthn like this bc all the rest of the guys r doing it." but after a rewatch of the scene in dps where theyre all walking outside, it started having some merit in my mind! in that scene, keating does a sort of imitation of cameron when he first starts to walk, something like "am i doing this right?", "am i walking weird?", etc. (paraphrasing ofc.) so i sort of took that aspect and applied it to other parts of his character and found out that oh, this actually kinda makes sense!

speaking of keating and his lessons, lets talk carpe diem.

now my interpretation of cam is that he doesn't exactly *want* to apply carpe diem in his life, seeing it as an antithesis of the welton values. only joining the poets for the reasons mentioned above. however, he does indeed apply it in my eyes, but more as a fucked up reversal and dickish version which eventually ends up in him deservedly getting punched. now is this how keating intended him to interpret carpe diem? ehhhhhhhhhhhhh,, it's complicated, let's talk about the context a bit.

this part is more theorising than anything, so take it with a few grains of salt if u wish.

cam quite obviously is a pretty big stickler for the rules, which i believe is a result of outside influence. id like to thank @lovech1ld for reminding me of this! cam's parents/ grandparents/ guardians are noticably older than the other poets, which, in my eyes, makes a heavy emphasis on following the rules make a lot more sense (respect your elders type shit.) so this, combined with the inherent fear of authority that most of the boys seem to have, makes him a chronic rule follower. but it goes further than that, after these ideas have been pushed for so long, i feel that cameron's started to mix up his own personal morals and values with the morals and values of welton, viewing those two things as one in the same. here's where that starts to muddy things up in terms of carpe diem.

i interpret cam's finking AS his application of carpe diem in his life, but as more of a subconscious choice. now you may be thinking "hey. mona. what?" and i UNDERSTAND! but here's my reasoning behind that. as i mentioned/ theorised before, cam has a very high opinion of his friends' idea of him, but this does eventually change after neil's passing. his subconscious carpe diem application, to put it into proper words, was a way to stick up for himself and his beliefs despite what all his friends think. again, being brought about by neils death, since he didn't choose to rat anyone out when the opportunity first presented itself during the call from god assembly. and i dont think cam sticking up for himself is inherently a bad thing!! but! since cam's idea of his morals are so clouded by welton's, this isn't actually sticking up for himself, this is just being a tattletale.

he did provide other reasoning for doing so to the poets of course, so lets talk a bit about that too. he says something along the lines of "i did it for neil" and "this is what he wouldve wanted" which is obviously bullshit, objectively. but i don't think he saw it that way, i think he genuinely believed thats what he thought neil would've wanted, as stupid of him as that was. obviously thats not what he wouldve wanted AT ALL, and why he actually thought that is FAR beyond me. but i really dont think he wouldve turned anyone in if he didnt genuinely believe it, especially considering the fact that he was PART of the dead poets. even if he was the one to confess, im sure he likely got punished as well. (which also couldve been what he wanted? tristan this is an opening to also discuss catholic cam on here bc ur reasonings for that were INCREDIBLE.)

on top of this, i really dont think that cam actually understood the weight of what turning in everyone would do. now i will say right away, hes not dumb, he knew that keating would be fired and charlie would be expelled, and that alone should've turned him away if he really wanted to honor neil. as i said before we started, he absolutely deserved to be punched and lose his friends, that was a dick move that ended up ruining two lives for a long long time, if not forever.

but.

due to him grieving, his rules = morals shtick, and fear of authority, i think he turned in the poets without giving actual, proper thought into what the consequences of that would be. which manifests itself both in the film with the final scene.

in the last scene where all of the boys stand on the desk, we see multiple shots of cam looking around and looking at everyone standing. and we (or at least i) can definitely see some sort of consideration to join them!!! he of course doesnt, and ends up choosing to sit, looking QUITE ashamed. this too can he interpreted a couple ways, either as him being embarrassed that his peers are doing this, or as him wanting to join them but knowing that he was the reason keating was fired. knowing that it would be incredibly disingenuous, even if he stood as a way to sort of apologise to keating + the poets for what he did and show that he regrets his actions, he stayed seated. and was so. so. mad at himself for it.

now i don't remember where i heard this so im not sure how to go about fact checking, but i believe the choice to keep cam seated was ultimately dylan kussman's?????? but dont take my word as gospel in terms of that, i very well could be wrong.

BUT! this gives me an opportunity to talk abt how much i love dylan kussman!!!!! nick vocalised the thought before i was able to in one of his posts, but considering the fact that i agree wholeheartedly, i'll reiterate it. i see rsl and ethan hawke constantly be praised (deservedly!) for their understanding of the inner workings of their characters, especially reflected in the desk set scene. and while YES ABSOLUTELY, i think dylan needs this praise as well. dylan was the PERFECT casting choice for cameron and i will shout that from the rooftops until my voice goes hoarse. so so so many of his little mannerisms, facial expressions, ways of speaking, soooo many etceteras are just so. so. CAMERON! even the most comprehensive directorial choices cant top an actor's inherent understanding of a character and reflection of that in their performance. good god! i think my new dream in life is to ask dylan about how he came about properly embodying cameron and his process in doing so.

anyway

with my dylan fanfare over, that about wraps up my thoughts on cam in terms of the film itself. HOWEVER. i have lots and lots of thoughts after a long convo with tristan about certain headcanons and post-canon theories and whatever. will probably touch on those but i dont really have my thoughts properly collected enough, so that wont be until later.

as per usual with these types of posts, everyone else is welcome to add any input they may have. cam is one of my fav things to talk abt in terms of dps so i will eat up every single little thing. thank u for reading!!!!

[salvidida]

Everything about Scar's treatment in Brotherhood sucks so bad, but there was something specific that has been bothering me for awhile. I hadn't been able to quite put my finger on what it was since watching FMAB for the first time recently (as a lifelong 03 fan). So I rewatched FMA 03 again and it finally clicked what it was that further upsets me about Brotherhood regarding Scar, besides the more obvious imperialist propaganda and racism:

The Elric's relationship to him.

Now obviously Ed's racism towards Scar in Brotherhood is pointed out frequently enough, but it doesn't stop there. It's the way that Brohood Ed is incapable and fully resistant to ever bridging that gap besides a deeply uneasy allyship-of-convenience. Al is also fully distant from Scar, besides their mutual antagonism in the earlier arc. And nothing more is really explored here between these characters.

And I didn't realize how much I valued the way 03's Scar, Ed, and Al contrast, overlap, mirror, battle, and support one another. Their fates and goals are inseparable. Alchemy's impact on the Elrics' lives is reflected with Scar's life and his brother's, as well as their familial relationship to their own brothers; many point out the similarities between 03 Scar and Al, with some noting how Ed and Scar's brother match each other. And the way the Elrics here are more able to engage with the harsh realities that inform Scar's choices and actions versus that of their place as Amestrians, and for Ed as an active member of the military who, despite wanting to cling to his principle of never taking a life, at times can see Scar's point of view and even, with reticence, sympathize with him (Al even more so).

There are layers to the relationship across these three characters. The tension and humanity that arises is a driving force in revealing the dialectics of this show. It's to the point that Al and even at times Ed defend Scar when talking with other characters towards the end of the show, and they even ultimately owe their lives to him (the philosopher stone and grand arcanum that allowed both Ed and Al to live, and for Al to regain his body). And the bond between the Elrics help Scar to forgive his brother, to speak aloud that he loves him in his final moments, before triumphantly accomplishing his goal against the Amestrian military, saving the remaining Liorans, and saving Al from becoming Kimbly's final bomb.

And there are other moments, such as Scar helping Al in Lab 5, telling him he sees his unmistakable humanity after Al helps him save Ishbalan refugees. Scar attempting to help Ed in Lab 5 after he refuses to sacrifice the prisoners for the Philosopher Stone, because he sees the humanity in Ed too, the humanity that can resist merely being a ruthless military dog and scientist. The way Scar treats Al almost like a little brother of his own, and when he mentions that Ed and his older brother share the same kind eyes- said at a time when Scar still harbours ill feelings for his brother's taboos and his sacrifice; which becomes all the more poignant when he forgives his brother before creating a Stone passed down to the Elrics. Scar mentions having sworn off specifically targetting state alchemists post-Lab 5, and this feels like his way of sparing the Elrics of his wrath, even as he holds fast to fighting against an oppressive system with necessary violence. The material here is rich for analysis and appreciation! It doesn't settle on more digestible, black-and-white character archetypes and plot conveniences.

There's a reason why the final outro for 03, where it flashes across four deceased characters who mattered to the Elrics, includes Scar. The man is in the ranks of Trisha, Nina, and Hughes! This isn't a mistake, the writers are intentionally showing the indelible impacts of these people who they cared about.

But with FMAB, it's exceptionally flat here and entirely derogatory. Ed hates Scar, and the narrative treats him as wholly right to do so. Scar needs to repent and reform to the side of his genociders, and never shall these characters interact or converse beyond putting a stop to Father. Scar was nothing more than a vehicle to reach his murdered brother's alchemic research, and an example to be made of any radical who so much as raises a finger against the State. All three of these characters want nothing to do with each other, and that's about as far as we get with them. In Scar's own words, he's nothing more than the 'ooze' (the poison) that arises from military conquest, and by the end of the show it's clear that, even with Scar saving the entire country that destroyed his life, to the Elrics, he will always be that 'ooze'.

In Brotherhood Scar committed what the Elrics clearly considers to be the ultimate sin: he killed Winry's parents, and no matter the circumstances surrounding that event, no matter what else changes, no matter which mass murderers, monsters, and genociders the Elrics can sympathize with, humanize, befriend, and forgive, Scar will never be anything more than an unforgivable murderer. The best everyone gets here is moving on and living seperate lives. Nothing more.

The fact that Ed openly wishes he could beat the shit out of Scar, he verbalizes as such while Winry patches him up and Miles lectures him about the value of reforming the military regime to include more racialized people for its imperialist complex. And the big mercy Ed in this moment offers to Scar is... Not kicking the shit out of him after all.

The juxtaposition between these adaptations, the cold hatred of FMAB versus the entangled, poetic antagonism and comradery of FMA 03 makes experiencing the former anime so depressing. Until watching Broho it never dawned on me just how much I truly appreciated the complexities between Scar and the Elrics in 03. Finding Scar's Earth counterpart at the end of Shambala wasn't just a fun cameo: it feels like a road that leads back to an ally.

At least now I have something I can more consciously enjoy whenever I revisit 03, while articulating yet another reason why I can't stand Broho.

[undiscovered-horizon]

AHHHH UR WRITING IS JUST CHEF KISS I CANT GET ENOUGH OF IT, ITS SOO GOOD AND UR CHARACTERIZATION OF EDDIE IS JUST AMAZING IM OBSESSED, ALSO FLUSTERED EDDIE IS EVERYTHING MAN I LOVE HOW SHY HE IS ✋😫

Now make them kiss 🔫👹

Oh God oh shit don't shoot I haven't picked up my makeup order yet. Btw sorry this is so short ??

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

Eddie always insisted on walking you home. At first, you didn't want to trouble him but you soon realized that the little favour meant more to him than it did to you. There was something about you being left vulnerable to Gotham's cruelty that made him jittery; his clingy, anxious nature could paint true masterpieces of horror disguised as intrusive thoughts. Besides, it was a good pretext to stretch out your date for another thirty minutes or so.

His hands were always warm and soft, which was part of the reason why you like holding them so much. The other satisfying thing was the adorable bashfulness the act of affection elicited from him. Despite his vivid shyness, once he had a hold of your hand, he was committed - not letting go until absolutely necessary.

When you arrived at your apartment building, you quietly questioned whether the distance from the coffee shop you met at was always this short. It seemed as if anytime Eddie was walking you home, the streets of Gotham became suspiciously short as if specifically trying to spite the newly found lovers.

You pushed the door to building open, even letting one of your feet step over the threshold before you stopped altogether. There was something you'd been thinking about for the entire day, barely holding the urge in and now, when his longing stare was watching you disappear into the night, you let those recurring thoughts win.

Unable to hold back a smile, you turned around to face Eddie. "Actually, I nearly forgot to give you something."

"You... have something for me?" he asked while you were walking towards him. A blush appeared on his cheeks as it usually did when you showed him any kind of interest.

"Yeah, just a small thing," you answered with a shrug. For all he knew, you meant something completely insignificant.

Before Ed had an occasion to question you further about the enigmatic, if not elusive, gift, you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. You could still taste the root spices from the pumpkin pie he and you ate.

Eddie froze. His mind was about as blank as it could physically get. You were kissing him and he definitely wasn't asleep. Lacking experience in that department, he tried to kiss you back as best as he could manage. He was probably going to overthink that beautiful moment when he gets back home, yelling at himself for being so awkward but at the moment no coherent thought could form in his mind: there was only you and the way your soft lips moved against his. A faint aroma of vanilla entered his nostrils - your lipstick must have been a scented one.

When you pulled away, the chill night air made his face feel unbearably cold. "Nearly forgot to give you a kiss," you whispered. Then you pecked the corner of his mouth and went inside your apartment building. The click of the front door locking shook Eddie awake.

All of this... actually... happened. He could die a happy man now.

[utilitycaster]

Apologies, but can you elaborate on what you meant with

"As of late, the banner of those wronged by the gods has shifted from any of Bells Hells to those of Aeor, and that is a bad sign in a D&D campaign. If you need to set aside the PCs in order to rely on NPCs who have not shown up in the current narrative? You are clinging to a melting iceberg, my man."

Sure, so...among the people who are advocating that the Only Good And True Solution is for Bells Hells to kill the gods (a position that has already required frantic backpedaling from "what if the Vanguard is good" due to the murders), the poster children for "those wronged by the gods" are now "the people of Aeor."

Now. I do not deny that the gods destroyed Aeor. I think if you are holding the gods to the standard of "They should have prevented Calamity", and the two things they've banded together about have specifically been "stop Predathos" and "destroy Aeor" and Aeorians were creating a god-killing weapon the plans of which are being used now in the Predathos plot, I think it's worth considering whether you believe that self-defense is inherently unjust if your reason is "but i really wanna fucking kill them" but that's a whole other discussion.

The point at hand is that as a rule, in a D&D game, the enemies of your D&D party are, uh, going to be the enemies in the story. And so:

Chetney: wronged by some random werewolf and by a dude named Drixlitch; killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

Laudna: wronged by and killed by Delilah Briarwood; killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

FCG: arguably, made to be an unwitting killing machine by Aeor. Sacrificed himself when the unwitting killing machine abilities took over, depriving a nearly TPK-ed party of their healer; took themself out to kill the Vanguard general (Otohan) that was going to kill all of them.

Fearne: specifically designed to be Ruidusborn by Zathuda, working with the Vanguard; Zathuda's relationship with her mother has some really worrying veiled portions re: how consensual it all was while we're at it. Killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

Imogen: Honestly Predathos's relationship with the Ruidusborn seems rather predatory and manipulative but that's another conversation; abandoned by and generally treated like a morality pet by her mother, a Vanguard general. Otohan would have killed her too, regardless of her Ruidusborn status.

Orym: Father and husband permanently killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general. Killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general.

Ashton: nearly blown up/sent to a faraway desert and orphaned by elemental titan-worshiping parents; nearly killed by magic possessed by or committed by Jiana Hexum, who was at minimum collaborating with the Ruby Vanguard on imports.

In case you noticed, unless you hold the gods accountable for all bad things happening...none of them have been wronged by the gods. They have, at best, been ignored by the gods (which was earlier on an argument against the gods but people gave that up, on account of it being dumb as dogshit stupid). On the other hand, man, sure feels like that Ruby Vanguard did a whole bunch of killing. If you have to ask the viewers to ignore the feelings of the main PCs in favor of the [dead, can't disagree with you although uh, FCG sure did] people of Aeor*...you have, quite literally, lost the plot.

*You know what's interesting? There's people stuck in stasis bubbles in Aeor, and there's a growing number of Aeormatons, too. If the issue is "Aeor was an incalculable loss" why is your focus "we should plunder the Malleus Factorum - something that was controversial and caused massive unrest within Aeor itself even it its time - and awaken the god-eater, which had long been sealed by the time of Aeor" and not "holy shit we could seek out and interview and assist the Aeormatons and revive a bunch of Aeorians!" If your issue with the Calamity was "there was an incalculable loss of life" why is your solution "create a murder cult"? If your issue with Vasselheim is "they are hiding crucial information about Ruidus and they are colonizing small towns in central Issylra" why is your murder cult murdering all the moon researchers who also worked against Vasselheim and why are you allying with the empire that took over the entire moon and wants to do the same to Exandria? If the issue is "the gods have too much power and use the power of others" why is Predathos any different, and frankly, Ludinus looks pretty fucking fishy too.

[frownyalfred]

About writing a sequel for Sever the Blight (which was amazing to read btw) I feel like given proper warnings it should be fine?

Especially since the darker and/or uncomfortable themes are pretty common in Batman? Bruce has literally pushed his body to it‘s limits, dangerously so. He’s self-destructing. That‘s a big part of his character and background.

And in your story his decision to stop eating was very deliberate and pragmatic to him. (considering that he loves his sons, they were injured, still growing, etc., and they had no clue when/if help would arrive)

I would argue that most parents place their children‘s lives above their own.

You didn‘t give me the impression that you were promoting ED at all, especially since we had Clark‘s pov. We could clearly see how distressed he was at the situation and his own helplessness.

I could maybe see the issue if you had written it from Bruce‘s pov, downplaying and ignoring the effect starvation has on his body. Even listing all reasons why (to him) it‘s a reasonable/good/right thing to do while hiding it from his family.

But I feel you‘ve always handled the more difficult stories/plotlines really well? Especially when it comes to conflict in the Batfam, or within Bruce himself. Borderline being a wonderful example imo.

(You‘re actually my favorite Batman/Fam author because of how you write them all -I could honestly gush about it for hours- and their struggles without demonizing them)

Also, I would guess that a continuation would mostly deal with the aftermath? Specifically the road to recovery helped along by his family. Nothing that encourages ED.

Sorry if this is a rambly/annoying ask. just wanted to add my own opinion into the mix since I love your writing in general. To me, the characters make it clear when they make decisions due to an unhealthy mind-set.

I‘d be excited to see a (presumably) Batfam centric sequel of course! But no pressure :)

Thank you so much! I would love to write the sequel, absolutely. And I agree that the original fic didn’t promote ED tendencies, as much as is possible in a fic about starvation.

I think I just wasn’t prepared for the sudden flood of pro-ED comments and in my inbox and DMs. It was a lot to sift through mentally and it (briefly) turned me off the idea of writing more in this trope. I deleted some really concerning stuff.

I appreciate everyone’s support and confirmation that the tags and description weren’t harmful or triggering. I really do want to make sure readers have Bruce’s recovery — and the batkids’ reactions, which I think is the key/best part.

[starryseas-tardisdreams]

Apparently I was not specific enough on my last post. As I stated, just because you don’t like something doesn’t make it homophobic. Disliking something also doesn’t automatically make it ableist, an attack on anyone, etc. You can just dislike something without it being a form of oppression.

“Izzy’s death is an insult to domestic abuse (DA) survivors”. I have experienced DA as a child and as an dult. I’ve also experienced violence as a sex worker. Comments like these are what insults me, you are trivializing domestic abuse.

If your take on the show is “Izzy is the victim, Ed is the abuser 😤” you lack media literacy. Izzy and Ed were both awful to each other. Izzy pushed Ed to keep up the Blackbeard image. Ed wants to be “soft”, to be able to cry at things, like nice fabrics, be gender non conforming. Izzy keeps him from this and very much reminds me of parents forcing their kids to stay closeted (I still Iove Izzy and his later arc is very relatable as some who discovered they were queer later on).

If we are going to take this silly comedy show way too seriously and make it a direct comparison to our world, I’d much rather be maimed than reported to the police. As a full service sex worker, I’ve had people try to murder me and still not called the police. The regular police! And in this show, Izzy doesn’t turn them over to regular police, he turns them over to the British royal navy, which could’ve easily resulted in them all being hung. I would never forgive someone for snitching to the police in real life.

But there is no reason to take the show so seriously. No one was killed or jailed due to Izzy snitching. Maiming is part of a pirates life, sorry. Characters physically hurting each other in the show does not hold the same gravity as in real life. Pirates maiming each other is like the equivalent of me inappropriately screaming at my housemate.

“Izzy dying is an insult to suicide survivors”. As a multi time suicide survivor, what the fuck??? Izzy, Ed, and stede have all been suicidal at some point. Izzy and Ed both survived suicide attempts in this show. It’s not like the only suicidal person is dead now. I think it’s beautiful that even though Izzy didn’t have much time between his failed suicide attempt and his death, he changed his life to be something much happier and more loving. Izzy’s story shows me it’s always worth living, even when everything seems miserable, even if you don’t have that much time left. And I love seeing Ed, suicide survivor, having to learn to move on and be happy even after the death of someone he loved so dearly.

“Izzy dying has no purpose / is lazy writing”. Izzy’s death lets us see the above - Ed, a suicide survivor, learning to live as he wants with grief and guilt and all of it. Izzy’s death sets up the major plot line of season 3 (if we get one) - the crew’s desire for revenge. Zheng and Auntie would’ve been the only ones with a strong desire for revenge otherwise.

“It’s homophobic to get rid of one of the only queer actors”. Pretty much all the characters and lot of the cast is queer????? Also Con O’Neil will likely return for season 3. It’s a lot more homophobic to call the mostly queer writing crew homophobic??? Seriously go read the interview with one of the non-binary writers of color talking about how amazing it is to look up and see 4 other non-binary writers of color in the room.

Also on a related note, the show is Ed and Stede. It’s a rom com about them, always has been, the creators have flat out said this several times. If you don’t like them, then you don’t like the show. Watch something else.

Anyway, for the 100th time, you can dislike something without it being homophobic or any other bigoted thing and you can dislike some thorn without attacking the writers. Please stop.

[three--rings]

So I just recently rewatched OFMD with a chatroom of people and everyone is like oh ep 9-10, it's gonna be PAIN. And I'm like, come on episode 10, my favorite episode!!

And like, what is wrong with me? I'm not even a big fan of whump or angst. But...well for one thing I love it when I get my ass handed to me unexpectedly by fiction. (It's the same reason the last two eps of S2 of Black Sails are my favorites). I like it when the show GOES HARD and doesn't flinch.

But also, in my head...those are the eps, and specifically ep 10 is the ep where Stede and Ed Become Real. Where they stop being fun jokey CHARACTERS and become...fully portrayed three dimensional beings.

With Stede it's because he becomes fully aware of his own inner motivations in a way he hasn't been until then. (Both his love and his guilt.) But everyone knows this, it's the theme of the season: he's finally become a real boy.

But the same is true for Ed. Because throughout the show, we only got to see one very carefully curated side of him, the side he wanted Stede to see. We heard about the other Blackbeard, we saw glimpses of it every once in a while, but it isn't until the confrontation with Izzy that we actually get to see Blackbeard, the most feared man in this hemisphere, probably.

And that is also Ed. The insecurity and heartbreak and the violence and anger and cold-bloodedness. All that Good Good stuff that ep 10 gives us that we hadn't gotten up till then. And for me, until I got to see that on screen, Ed wasn't fully REAL to me. I felt like he was a bit flat, much as I did love him. I craved more backstory, more of his past, something to get to see the full picture that I KNEW had to be there.

Anyway, just thoughts. I'm very excited for S2 because I need more of my fucked up pirate man, in all his messy complicated glory.

[something-about-sunflowers]

Alright, *cracks knuckles, back, pussy, crack, etc* more trailer to break down.

Mirror image of the shot in the teaser? Was it flipped for a reason or are we getting more than one scene like this? What boat are they on? It's not the dinghy, not the revenge (I don't THINK?), and they're not dressed the way they are with the Chinese pirates. (Red scarf presence noted.)

Speaking of: Is this 'Susan' he's talking to? This has to be early on, he's not got his cunty little earring yet. (Just trying to nail SOME of the timeline down, you understand.)

Scarf. Feeling more and more sure it's Ed's silk.

Oluwande 💚. The way this dialogue is cut seems like they're skipping something, the way Olu says 'you dumped him' doesn't flow with the conversation the way it would if it was a immediate response to Stede's 'no, why would he do that?'

Presented without comment.

They're eating the wedding cake. :)

This is presumably happening while Ed is throwing knives at Izzy's head. :(

Anyway. This looks like they're definitely trying to get Blackbeard to stop -

- doing this so they can get through the storm or tell him something's gone wrong. Maybe Izzy's foot/leg gets real bad during the storm? Could be a lot of things.

Initially I thought this might be a precursor to him menacing Frenchie in the one shot in the EW article, but that's in the galley not Stede's cabin and this is a bucket full of bottles (alcohol) and with Frenchie it's a box with bottles (containers, possibly food but I think it looks more likely to be medicine)

(for reference)

I think this is in the auxiliary wardrobe, bride figure in the top right.

Izzy looks MISERABLE here. Whether it's the idea of him knowing EXACTLY why they're at a wedding or because he's in a hell of a lot of pain (foot still present and infected and all that) or some unfortunate combination of both (likely both), I want to wrap him up in a blanket burrito and give him forehead kissies. Also, wider shot here lets me update who's where on the topdown, so:

Jim

Izzy

Frenchie

Fang

Archie

Unnamed bald one with the studded bracers behind Izzy in the previous shot

Ed. Ed you are like. Consistently seen smoking from a pipe. You can't handle a blunt? Or is the weed too dank? Also, pretty sure this is him and Anne and/or the person she's with in the shots a bit after this.

This is why I thought it might have been the shot from the EW article but again, different container with different miscellanea and different room. He. Does seem to be. Interacting with Frenchie a lot though. And. This instance seems very specifically similar to. To him interacting with. A certain someone else. In season 1. . . I'm not saying Izzy's out with a case of Leg Gone and Ed's leaning on Frenchie in the aftermath. . . but.

I feel this so hard. We've all been there Ed. Anyway I'm pretty sure this is the same place he's smoking with mysterious, mostly offscreen, light skin-toned hand person who may or may not be Anne and/or her friend. (No scarf.)

Genuinely I feel like the nose staying on his face would look more believable without the ribbon. Lucius didn't need a ribbon for his finger. Maybe if it was horizontal as opposed to diagonal? It looks LOOSE and that makes it seem like it's not secure enough to be staying on his face like it is.

Deserved (the punch). My baby's leg tho. :'(c It's not even the right height for him. Look how he's gotta bend his other leg just standing.

Olu fighting someone???

Bracer looks like guy number 6 from the wedding raid but this doesn't look like it's on a ship. This guy also seems to have a beard or something that the other guy didn't so idk.

Cracked the code here thanks to @tizzyizzy pointing out something in my server. I was right about this not being during the storm. I was wrong about it being a possibly mutiny. I'm gonna jump a bit ahead in the trailer in a sec to explain but: Ed's got a rock tied around his waist here. You can see the rock at the bottom of the screen.

You can see the line go taut and pull him down.

You can see the rock continue to pull him down. (The rock is right at the bottom of the screen.)

Jumping ahead in the trailer and. Well. Rock with some rope tied around it. (Once again, thank you Tizzy 🙏 you eagle eyed hero) The lighting certainly matches better than the storm did. The question is: Is Hornighost trying to talk him into it or out of it? (And. Yknow. Is he a ghost at all, even?)

Back to where we jumped from. Are these guys wearing the same clothes as the guy Stede 'did a punch' to? Looks like it. *Black Pete voice* What IS this fucking timeline!

Love that Izzy is the only one who doesn't duck away. Also 👀 Lucius spotted. Is he holding hands with Jim? He certainly seems comfortable positioned right between the two little killers doesn't he? ;3c

'Oh no my boat :'(c' Is anyone still on board or did they take a dinghy and get outta there after the storm?

This.

(New promo pic.) This.

(Skipping ahead in the trailer.) And this, are all the same version of Stede. The outfit (weird little arm flappies, red sash) and location are the same. This is absolutely a dream sequence. Stede is dreaming about being the kind of pirate he wishes he was. I'd also venture as to guess this is the extent of his 'revenge on Izzy' that Some Of You are all so clamoring for.

[Out of allowed images, please hold]

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi guys! Got an anon ask with some triggers, so I'm copying it here so I can put a 'read more.'

TW: ED, SH

Here's the original ask:

hey Cas!

hru today? <3

I rlly don’t wanna bother u but I just need some advice bc I’m in a pretty tricky situation and I don’t know who I couldn’t turn to who wouldn’t then tell OTHER people (adults etc)

also a TW b4 anyone reads further: ED (not me but a a friend) and generally bad mental health (including sh and sui)

Basically I have this friend (one of my best friends) who’s struggled with really bad mental health and attempted in the past (we weren’t friends during this time but they’ve shared it with me) they have told me they no longer sh but I’m not entirely sure if I believe him on that but I guess there’s nothing to do except just take their word for it and they are definitely doing better than they were before (about a year or two ago)

thing is this friend does still have a (pretty bad I think) ED (specifically I think they have anorexia but I’m really not sure because I don’t know that much about EDs. I’ve tried to do some research but it’s actually incredibly hard to find any info about them especially in terms of ways to emotionally show support. In a medical sense they always seemed to be talked about like minor things(?) idk it’s hard to explain but often times I’ve been reading actual factual medical stuff and just been disgusted at the ways it’s discussed, like they try so hard to describe it from a technical viewpoint that they essentially the entire mental health aspect of it which kind of demeans the whole thing bc EDs ARE a mental health disorder)

sorry went on a little side rant there but basically I’ve tried to find stuff out but it’s really hard to learn about the mental health aspect and even harder to find stuff out about how to HELP someone through an ED

I’ve even resorted to looking thru some more unsavoury places for info (including anablr), I know these types of places encourage EDs and I am actually not a person who really loves their body very much but I do think I’m in a strong enough place emotionally to do this (and so far I’ve been correct, I’m unaffected) because I just wanted some actual insight on what it’s like

the problem with my friend is that she’s ALREADY in therapy. Her parents put her in it when they found out about her vaping habit but they just lie all the time (she tells me about it) because they have like serious trust issues due to past trauma and I’m gonna be honest, I 100% believe therapy is a good thing but sadly it is also entirely useless if the person doesn’t make any effort to get better

all I can do in that aspect of it is hope the therapy is going better than the jokes he makes about it or that eventually she will feel comfortable enough to share and process her issues

in terms of the ED what im really lost with is how to help

and don’t get me wrong, I know you can’t really help a person who doesn’t want to be helped but honestly I’m not giving up on this person I care about that easily. I will NOT be another person in their life who abandons them for being ‘too much’ or ‘too difficult’. I’ve already accepted the fact that I will not be able to help them out of it really (as best as I can at least)

I’ve already taken to carrying gum and mints in my school bag as much as I can (usually I’ll have a pack of both and I just share them with everyone so this person doesn’t actually catch wind that they’re the reason I do as quite often when they skip lunch they do help themselves to a few of my mints or gum pieces but ik if they knew it was for them they’d stop bc she’s just like that)

I just don’t know how else to help emotionally though, I’m one of the only people (I might be the ONLY person at all) that they feel comfortable enough to talk to about these issues and I just think its better that they’re telling someone who cares about them and is trying to help than telling no one at all which seems to be the alternative. The issue is I don’t know how to respond or show support especially because (thank u trust issues and trauma (/s) the window of vulnerability is SMALL (I’m talking a couple of seconds literally) before they’re joking and changing the subject

Also a small (but frankly compared to the rest of this, not very important) detail is that like I previously mentioned I am also not suuuper happy with my body ( I don’t sh really or have an ED in any way shape or form) and sometimes the stuff he says slightly upsets me (just like once I told him about how my mean grandma told me I was fat and had to eat less and he said his grandma forces him to eat more and that my grandma ‘sounds like her wet dream’ - I know this was just a joke obviously but I didn’t rlly love it considering my grandma is a pretty big source of my looks based insecurities)

like I said in no way is it on the same level and obviously I know it’s not coming from a place of malice because this friend also really looks out for my mental health like way more than my other friends tbh (I don’t know if it’s bc they struggled with it or whether they’re the only one who seems to notice I’m the therapist friend haha but they are the FIRST person to ask if anything’s wrong if I’m acting different and I rlly want to stress that because I know that from what I’ve said so far they may have come across as selfish or something but they are actually one of the kindest people ever) that’s especially why I’m worried if I bring anything up about wanting to help with little things or especially anything about not being a fan of little jokes that she’ll just stop talking about it at all in an attempt to make me feel more comfortable)

for context for all of this, I’m 15 (we both are) so still in school and they’re parents absolutely SUCK (in the most non violent way possible I would like to kill them [not actually but I do really hate them and wish them only the worst]) so there’s no emotional support coming from home for him

I don’t really have anyone I can talk to about this in real life because (for privacy reasons) they’ve asked me not to share it with like my other friends and I don’t have the greatest relationship with my parents (they’re not like abusive or neglectful or anything but we just have a lot of differences and just I’ve very much emotionally distanced myself from them)

sorry if this is too much because I do know it’s a really tricky situation and even though all of us sort of deify you, you’re still only one person and if this does make you uncomfortable or upset (not just if it’s triggering I mean just in general if you’re reading this and you don’t feel comfortable) in anyway please don’t force yourself to answer or feel guilty if you don’t because the last thing I’d want to do is put you in that kind of position

Im not sure if ill send in more anons but if I do then ill refer to myself (and you can call me) lacy anon so you know who I am (yes after the song bc i rlly love it haha)

Anyway sending lots and lots of love from the person who does basically look up to you as their adult role model and who I wanna be like when I’m older <3

Hi love! You're not bothering me at all!

So, first, I want to let you know that I am an adult, but when I say this, I hope you don't take it as...condescending, I guess? Because I don't mean it that way at all. I want to be realistic in the fact that these things you are dealing with are VERY grown-up and scary, and you are handling them in a remarkably mature way, but you are still legally fifteen.

This is way too much for a fifteen year old to take on.

You genuinely seem like the most amazing person. The fact that you have done research and carry around things for your friends, all to help them with their ED is frankly restoring my faith in humanity a bit. But I worry that you are placing WAY too much of the responsibility on yourself. I don't mean to be bleak or too blunt, but if god forbid anything ever happened, I would hate for you to blame yourself, and it sounds like you would. Your job is to be this person's friend. Not their therapist or caretaker.

So, here's my advice: I absolutely agree that you should not give up on them! But make sure you have boundaries. It broke my heart to read that you were going to places like anablr just to help- that's not healthy for you! As a friend, especially at your age, your most important job is to make sure your friend doesn't feel alone. And you're doing an amazing job, in my opinion. They seem to be willing to talk to you, and that's a big deal. But, in the best way, you are fifteen, and you don't have to have all the answers! Sometimes, the best way to support someone is to remind them that they are loved and they have someone in their corner. BUT remember that being there for someone doesn't mean you have to sacrifice yourself or your mental health. Say something if a joke makes you uncomfortable. "I love you so much, but that joke makes me feel uncomfortable. Can you maybe not joke like that?" It's okay and healthy to set those boundaries.

Please remember, you are not responsible for this person. You can love them and be there for them and care deeply, but you are responsible for you and your own health. Don't forget you.

My last very gentle suggestion is this: If you ever get to the point that you are so genuinely worried about this friend that you think it is a life-or-death situation, please don't take that on by yourself. I know it is scary, and I know that telling adults mean that there can be ramifications, but remember that if you are genuinely scared, then an adult needs to be there to keep everyone safe. Very bluntly: Trust can be rebuilt but you can't bring people back from some other very permanent decisions.

Again, you are a wonderful person, and a fantastic friend. But remember to take yourself into account and stay safe in all ways. I know this is probably not the advice you want to hear, but I hope maybe you'll consider it.

Sending so much love! <3 <3 <3

[knowlesian]

i was asked about my second favorite joke and i have finally decided: it’s the exchange about the the orange, because holy shit is that a textbook example of a slyer, more character-informing sort of joke construction than the set-up/escalation of the crystals.

(no shade to the crystals, which i wrote about here: it is my favorite for a reason. it is maybe The Perfect Joke.)

that said, tiiiiiiiiime to over-analyze.

shoutout to the leadup, which lampshades lucius pulling absolutely acres of emotional weight for the people around him (and then makes it even better by stede just jumping in to do it himself and lucius not actually having to lift a finger, wooden or not) and the deadpan chorus of ‘it’s a rock’ in response to stede’s delusional glee.

secondary shoutout to how ed starts to clean off the orange despite verbally letting down stede easy— if stede’s superpower is being oblivious to reality and sometimes that makes him do things like run the fuck off without fully explaining himself, it’s also what makes him beautiful and so fucking ready to evolve.

stede is A Lot, but he’s family. his ability to look at the world and say ‘actually, i think it would be more fun if we did it this way and as such: i will be dragging those around me into my delusions that life and the world can be better than it currently is’ is fucking... i mean. what a gem, you know?

so ed says: it’s a rock, it’s a piece of shit, and he still rinses it off carefully anyway to answer this irrepressible ‘but what IF’ because just being around stede seems to allow people to assume these emotional risks, either through proximity to his privilege or his open-bedroom door management style (in a way stede can’t quite seem do for himself until he goes back to fix things with mary the writing on this SHOW my god) and then ed makes the best face when he realizes that once again, stede’s delusional belief in his ability to make things work has panned out: the rock is an orange.

like jim says: the old tree still had some fruit to give after all.

(sustenance frozen in time? a family legacy? jesus fuck if i start asking myself what is the orange, really, in specific relation to the tree itself i will not GET TO THE JOKE JESUS FUCK I HAVE NOT EVEN GOTTEN TO THE FUCKING THING YET. okay: the orange. like nana and stede and everybody else on this show, it’s a lot, but also it means a lot and i love it.

i cannot speak of the tree. the tree is this whole other insane post in the making. everything on this show means like six things at once on TOP of the actual plot and i’m mad at it. all the time, mad at it.)

finally: the actual joke.

I suppose you should have it. It’s your land.

It’s cool. Finders keepers.

Oh thank god! I didn’t want to give it to you. I think this is my new favorite thing!

jesus christ they do so much heavy fucking lifting with so few words on this show. all the time forever, they pack a whole essay into the words they use and how they use them.

okay: i’ll start on the surface, where it’s not even about words. stede is dressed for a cartoon safari. that outfit is calling up some very purposeful imagery, and it’s about one pit stop shy of him having on a literal pith helmet for no reason. 

so just visually, we have stede looking like he’s ready to go discover someplace people have lived for centuries, literally digging shit up on jim’s ancestral land, and wanting to take it home with him.

stede: the new face of the british museum!!!! 

(don’t @ me, i know i know be accurately mad. ‘the new face of the new zealand museum’ just didn’t have the right ring.)

because they’re really good at this shit they take that obvious visual gag and use it to show stede’s grown as a person since the party; he immediately sighs and tosses the orange off to jim. he knows the right thing to do here.

then we get jim getting to solidify/close a character arc chapter with tossing it back: they’re all good. they’ve got olu, they’ve got nana, and family isn’t something they need concrete evidence can exist for them anymore.

(plus: it’s very obvious stede wants it.)

this last part is where it gets very, very cool: stede’s response.

one of the rules for writing comedy (if you want to maximize storytelling alongside the jokes) is that your jokes need to inform character. ofmd is a fucking masterclass on that.

level one: stede is saying the quiet part loud. someone telling the truth in a socially inappropriate way is a staple in comedy: always has been, always will be. it’s just funny that he’s brightly like oh good!!!! i never wanted to share at all!!!! fuck you guys i want this orange, come to orange papa!!!!! 

comedy math is comedy math.

it’s reminding us that stede is evolving, but he’s still stede: he pulled back the impulse to go full main character syndrome and ignore the part of his miraculous orange discovery where the orange didn’t belong to him just because he dug it up while jim asked him what the fuck he was doing, but he really goddamn wanted that orange!!!!

which takes me down to the next level: stede doesn’t just love nice things, he defines himself by his love for/ownership of them. the first part’s fine and good with the narrative, while it seems pretty solidly against the second. 

sidenote: ed chucking stede’s generational wealth overboard is also ed giving them a space free of stede’s old life where they can figure their shit out together under the gaze of mary’s lighthouse, one day. i’m mad at the writers. VERY MAD.

if i had to guess where the show is going with this stede still loving/one day re-obtaining fancy pants and having plans to match won’t be an issue, so long as he knows who the fuck he is without those pants.

(...i did not intend that to be a sex thing but i stand by it now that i have made it so, your honor. tits AND ass, your honor: we want them both.)

stupid sex jokes aside, here’s where it gets really cool: this fucking miracle of a metaphor of an orange is now stede’s favorite thing.

not his riches; not his fancy pants. not something he bought with money he lucked into and inherited from his shitty father, not a symbol of wealth or class or status.

a humble orange. (consider: the humble lighthouse orange. fuuuuuck this show.)

a humble orange he obtained through honest means: jim gave it to him because stede’s a lot, but he’s family, and because stede’s fuckup with the oranges gave jim their family back in the form of nana knowing who they really are and accepting them in, cake and all, but also in the form of olu basically professing eternal love in the most wonderful way possible.

if stede wasn’t a dumbass with a fancy ship who picked jim up and didn’t know why oranges were crucial and wasn’t desperate to impress ed and the treasure map didn’t burn up because lucius was busy watching his dads fall in love right in front of his snake, does jim ever get this closure (or stede this orange)?

probably not. they had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the shore party, they did NOT think they’d find a welcome here.

and then: they did. nana had cake waiting, nana is more concerned about murder stats than pronouns, and nana absolutely loves olu. without this day trip, jim might have spent the rest of their life wondering if family was unconditional, or if family ends where honesty begins.

that orange is a gift; that orange is a thank you.

and now thanks to all those dominoes stede has this orange, granted to him because of the two sides of his habit of forgetting reality exists, not in spite of one of them, and because a lot of the time stede forgets the rules the world tells him he should care about are actually supposed to matter to him.

stede defines himself by things: he is entering the next part of this story with the orange that means family and love that embraces nuance instead of wanting to hide or smooth it over as his favorite thing.

i mean. i M E A N.

[our-death-means-flag]

Above the Clouds and the Atmosphere

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader

Notes: Wing AU, Izzy hasn’t been able to fly in decades. It doesn’t bother him. (It does.) Reader is the first person he’s met with wings strong enough to carry someone and fly. Not that it matters, Izzy doesn’t need to fly again. (He does.)

So, @run-me-through-but-not-like-that (hope the tag isn’t annoying!) wrote a wing fic with Izzy a while ago and it has not left my brain since. I thought that Izzy deserved to fly again and I love wing fics. So, here’s this.

Warnings: mentioned wing injuries, angst, Izzy being difficult

Title Song: Rocketeer by Far East Movement (but I’m specifically thinking of this cover by Clara C.)

It was impossible not to notice.

A crew member with wings was fairly run of the mill. If anything, they were sought after since the benefits of having a pirate who could fly were too many to count. Most crews only had two or three if they were lucky. The Revenge somehow had six five, Ed, Fang, Bonnet, Buttons, and you.

You still somehow stood out.

Your wings were absolutely massive. You had a larger wingspan than Ed which was a feat on its own. And you were without question the strongest flier on the crew.  (Yes, the crew of this clown ship had hosted a competition for that for some bloody reason, during which Izzy did his damndest to hide below deck) Though, and he’d never admit it, he did enjoy watching you. Watching you fly so smoothly when you scouted the waters ahead, watching you swoop down to attack an enemy sending them falling off the boat while you effortlessly shot back up into the air, watching you laugh and joke with the crew, wings moving almost as much as your hands as you spoke, emphasizing your words. You always flew so gracefully. Each twitch of your feathers was intentional and the gusts of wind that each flap of your wings created felt like a storm.

Every once in a while he’d purposely stand near you and when the wind from your wings hit his face it felt like he was flying again, just for an instant, but of course, that instant would pass and then he’d be slammed back into reality, grounded, permanently.

It was beautiful.

It was horrible.

Watching you was incredible but it made his wings ache. 

He was stuck. Part of him wanted to cling to you and to the memories of flying. But he didn’t. Instead he avoided you and your beautiful wings and the memories you brought, snapping whenever you dared try and get close, being significantly more hostile towards you than the rest of the crew.

Despite that, you kept trying. You were soft. Just like the rest of the crew. You were capable too, on par with what he’d expect from Blackbeard’s crew. But you were soft. You were kind and gentle and helpful. You always greeted him with a warm “Hello Izzy!” or a “Good morning, Izzy!” or a “Do you need anything, Izzy?”

It made it hard to hate you.

He wondered if it was harder to hate you or to deal with the reminders you brought of what he couldn’t do anymore.

Regardless, he avoided you. 

But avoiding you forever wasn’t practical…

A high pitched yell pulled him away from his work as he dragged a hand across his face.

“No peace and fockin’ quiet on this fockin’ ship.” He grumbled.

Usually a yell like that would have him worried that they were under attack but much to his surprise, he wasn’t really worried. He realized with no small amount of shock that it was because you’d been the one scouting today and you certainly wouldn’t be so incompetent. 

He quickly stopped thinking about how that must mean he trusts you.

Izzy stepped onto the deck and immediately noticed the source of the commotion. Practically the entire crew was crowded on the deck all clearly watching something. That something turned out to be you.

You were flying, easily keeping yourself hovering in place with strategic flaps of your wings. Clutching desperately onto you, was Lucius. The scribe looks like he was moments away from screaming again even as Izzy saw you gently comforting him and (if he was reading your lips right) telling him that it wasn’t that high up, that even if you dropped him, which you emphasized that you definitely wouldn’t do, he’d be fine.

Izzy shook his head trying to stop staring at you. He did the only thing he could think of and barked out “What the fuck are you useless lot doing?” 

A few people turned to glare at him and you looked remarkably guilty. In an annoyingly graceful movement, you landed deftly on the deck and gently released Lucius (honestly having to peel him off more than anything). 

You rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. “Sorry Izzy! Some of the crew wanted to go for a fly and I was done scouting— didn’t see anything interesting— and I’m the strongest flier… So, I figured.” You rambled and Izzy made a point of not looking at how the edges of your wings twitched as you moved your hands. “I… uh…” You seemed to lose confidence as you spoke. “Yeah…”

Some members of the crew notably stepped in between him and you as if to defend you. Not that it stopped him from opening his mouth, ready to unleash a volley of insults but the hand on his shoulder did.

“Aw, come on now. Lay off them Iz…” Edward’s voice was soft as he wrapped both his arm and wing around his shoulder, almost hiding the two of them from view.

The crew went back to talking to you, assuming that Ed would handle Izzy.

Ed took his chance and ducked slightly and whispered into Izzy’s ear, almost conspiratorially, “You know, if you asked, I’m sure they’d take you for a fly… They’re probably the only person we’ve met who could.” 

Izzy tensed. Of course you could. And Ed was right. You were very likely the only person who could. He’d never met anyone with wings as strong as yours. You definitely could carry him and fly.

Edward couldn’t. His wings were made for speed, not strength. Even though he’d been nearly dead, he remembered the first raid after his wings had gotten injured. Ed had scooped him into his arms and flown them back to their ship. He’d barely made it, actually hitting the railing and sending both of them skidding across the deck. Ed had sprained his own wings horribly after that, so Izzy never let him carry him again. He wouldn’t let his captain ground himself for his sake.

Izzy glanced at you again as you gently pulled Lucius into your arms again, comforting him before gently taking off.

The idea took over his mind. He could fly again. He’d never thought it would be possible.

No. It didn’t matter. He was fine.

He’d been fine without his flight for years. The hours he’d spent staring at the sky didn’t matter. The nights he’d spend curled up in his bunk, trying desperately to fall back asleep and dream of flying for just one more second didn’t matter.

He was fine.

Izzy rolled his shoulder pushing Ed’s hand off him. “I don’t need them.” He spat and stormed off.

He made a point of not looking at Edward’s guilty look. He knew that Ed had always blamed himself for the state of Izzy’s wings. Izzy had gotten the injuries protecting him after all. Even if Izzy knew about his captain's guilt, he couldn’t understand it. Protecting his captain came before everything else. Even his wings.

And he was fine.

—

Izzy did a double take the moment he stepped onto the deck for his late night rounds. The deck was empty, the night chilly enough to send everyone down to the bunks rather than sleeping on deck. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. Everything was done? The rigging was secure. The deck was organized and clean and he had no idea what was going on.

Until he spotted a familiar wing. 

Of course. It just had to be you. 

You were crouched near the front of the ship, wings fluttering in concentration as you meticulously checked the remainder of the rigging. So the state of the deck was probably because of you. But why? You’d usually be in bed or eating with the crew by now and you certainly didn’t have a late night shift today. So why were you here working?

Not sure how to get your attention without having to get close enough to risk touching your wings or yelling, he cleared his throat. You jumped lightly and he saw your hand shoot for the blade at your side until you looked over your shoulder and caught sight of him. Then you smiled.

“Evenin’ Izzy!” You greeted as politely as usual.

“Right,” was his curt response. “What are you doing here so damn late?”

You stood, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh, well… I figured I ought to help out a little…” He only got more confused and you seemed to notice since you continued, “well, I was the one who distracted everyone earlier and I wanted to make it up to you… so… I handled some things.” 

He furrowed his brows. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want you getting stuck with extra work cause I distracted everyone.”  You said it so matter-of-factly too, as if it was normal for you to do something like that for him.

On any other ship, if you’d do something like that, it would be out of fear, hoping to avoid punishment for slacking off. But no one on this ship was actually afraid of him since they all knew that the captains wouldn’t let him do anything. Maybe you were doing another strange thing again. Like how you greeted him and helped out.

Ridiculous.

“Fine.” He glanced at the rigging. “Not bad.” You beamed like he’d given you a huge compliment. “Go.” He dismissed you coldly, trying not to think about how much he liked seeing you smiling.

You walked past him, still smiling. Then you stopped. He was moments away from telling you to fuck off when you spoke again, “You know… my offer stands for you too.” He looked back at you.

“What offer?” He snapped.

“Flying. You weren’t on deck when I mentioned it to the rest of the crew but if you ever want me to take you for a fly, I’d be happy to. Just say the word.” He froze. “If you don’t want to do anything around the crew, let me know and I can find a time where we can fly without them around.”

Izzy stared at you. 

Did he want that?

Did he want to fly again?

He tried to picture it, the wind in his face, the ocean beneath him, your arms holding him and your beautiful wings keeping both of you in the air.

He hates the fact that he doesn’t hate the ideas.

You seem to take his silence and glare wrong as you rush to correct yourself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to assume… I know you don’t like me and I know my wings make you uncomfortable and-

“What?” Izzy manages to force the word out, cutting off your words. 

You smiled sadly. “I'm not that oblivious. I know you keep avoiding me and whenever I fly you always seem really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I want to be friends but if you want me to fuck off, just say the word and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”  

“Friends?” He echoed as if that was the most surprising thing you’d said. Not only had you caught on to his behavior but you were actively trying to make it up to him for them. 

You chuckled but it was clearly more at yourself than anything he said. ”Yeah… stupid. I know… I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He wasn’t sure why but he had to say it, had to get that stupid sad expression off your face. You seemed surprised. “I don't hate you.”

You froze, glancing back at him. “What?”

He groaned, realizing that he’d backed himself into a conversational corner. “I don’t hate you or your wings. Honestly you’re the most tolerable out of this whole damn crew. You actually know what you’re doing.”

You turned fully to face him, confusion and hope clear on your face. “You don’t? Then why do you avoid me?”

“Because I hate being reminded of what I can’t do!” He snapped. Then almost immediately froze as he realized what he’d said a moment after saying it. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

His wings flexed uselessly under the many layers of wraps keeping them pressed to his back.

“You have…”

“Yes.” No point beating around the bush. “Can’t fly anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your tone of voice stunned him. You weren’t mocking him. He still remembered the way the rest of Hornigold’s crew had reacted to his sudden grounding. And get here you were genuinely telling him you were sorry without an ounce of sarcasm or mockery. You, with the most beautiful set of wings he’d ever seen.

“I don’t want your damn pity.” He snapped.

You didn’t react. “It’s not pity. I mean it. I’m genuinely sorry that happened to you.”

He didn’t know how to react to the fact he believed you.

“Thank you for telling me Izzy. If you ever need anyone to help with your wings, just ask.” Your words were so gentle, so genuine. “Goodnight Izzy.” You turned.

“Wait.” The word came out like a command, even as his voice shook. He knew if he didn’t say it now he’d probably never get the courage again. You turned, confused. But Izzy spoke before you did. “I want to fly.”

“What?”

“I’m not fucking saying it again.”

You (damn you) didn’t push or try to mess with him. Instead you just smiled. “Of course. If you’d like, we could go now?” You offered gently.

Izzy hesitated. He technically didn’t have any nightly duties left since you’d done everything aside from being on watch which he could easily do while flying. He swallowed. “Sure.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way your wings fluttered in excitement. You opened your arms and smiled at him. “I’m going to have to pick you up.” 

Izzy couldn’t help but be a little grateful for you simply allowing him to come to you rather than grab him. With far more hesitation than he cared to admit, Izzy moved closer, tentatively stepping into arms reach of you.. You gestured with your arms and raised a brow, silently asking if you could pick him up. Izzy managed to mumble a “Yeah, go for it.” and he was lucky the two of you were so close since he was barely louder than a whisper.

You moved carefully, gently picking him up. One of your arms under his legs and the other resting gently against his back. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep himself steady and was trying (and failing) incredibly hard to not think about how you were holding him

“You good?” You asked, speaking incredibly softly. With Izzy in your arms like he was, he could feel your breath on his ear. Izzy doubted he could actually get his lips to form words but he managed a quick nod. “Alright, I’m going to stay over the deck, not too high. Then if that’s fine with you I can fly around.”

Why did you have to be so frustratingly considerate? 

Izzy nodded against your shoulder.

You smiled, even without looking at you, he could hear it in your voice. “Got it. I’m taking off on the count of 3. 1…”

Izzy took a deep breath.

“2…”

He adjusted his grip on your shoulders.

“3!”

More on instinct than any conscious thought, Izzy buried his face in your shoulder. He heard the flap of your wings, the air rushing past, and then, calm. He pulled away from your shoulder slowly and opened his eyes. The two of you were hovering over the deck, about eye level with the mizzentop, your wings carefully flapping to keep you both as still as possible. It took a moment for everything to click in his mind. 

He was flying.

“Izzy?” Your voice gently pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

He really wanted to give some cool response maybe a smooth “never better” but instead the only sound that managed to escape him was a “mhhnngh” which not only wasn’t smooth at all but also didn’t answer your question so instead he managed to nod.

“Do you want to fly around more?” He could practically hear the smile in your voice. 

Since Izzy’s vocal chords were still not cooperating, he nodded, almost frantically.

“Alright… Let’s go…” With another powerful flap of your wings you shot off away from the Revenge. Izzy felt the wind rushing by his face, tousling his hair. He watched the ocean flicker past just below him.  You dove down, and Izzy suddenly felt the sea mist against his skin. 

When his wings had healed enough for him to attempt flying, he'd honestly already known at that point that it would be useless. He’d tried regardless. Of course, he couldn’t. He pretended it didn’t bother him. But honestly, the idea that he’d never be able to fly again burned up his mind in a way he’d never been able to shake.

But he was actually flying.

It felt like a dream.

Izzy’s eyes must have been watering from the wind and the salt. 

He definitely wasn’t crying.

He was fine.

Without even thinking about it, Izzy reached a hand out towards the sea, desperate to reach out and touch it, as if that would fully confirm for him that he wasn’t dreaming. Seemingly realizing what he wanted, you swooped lower, allowing the tips of Izzy’s fingers to skip across the surface of the waves. You soared up into the air, Izzy watching the waves created from air from your wings.  Then you dove back down. You flew laps around the Revenge, staying just close enough to be safe. Of course, you (irritatingly considerate) kept checking in with him. “Is this okay?” “You alright?” “Everything fine?” To which Izzy could only respond with nods.

By the time you were landing back on deck,  Izzy honestly had no clue how long the two of you had been flying. He’d somehow just let himself get lost in the feeling of flying. A quick glance at the sky made him suddenly realize that his watch was almost up. The two of you had flown around almost all night. Izzy was honestly a lot more reluctant to leave your arms than he’d expected to be, but the fear of someone coming on deck and seeing you both made him finally remove himself from your arms.

He expected to feel just as awful as he had when he’d first realized he was stuck on the ground the moment his feet touched the ground but that didn’t happen. He felt lighter, more comfortable, like some tension he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying was gone. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, trying to make it look more like he was rubbing sleep away from his eyes with limited success.

“Izzy?” Your voice once again, cut through the silence. He spun, turning to see you leaning against the railing, wings relaxed and breathing a bit heavier than normal, shoulders visibly moving. It seemed that even for someone as strong as you, flying around for hours carrying someone was a lot of work. 

“You look exhausted. You should have stopped sooner.” He winced at his own words, hating how even that came out as a complaint.

You chuckled lightly, seemingly not taking his words as insulting in any way. “Yeah, probably.” You agreed as you gently stretched your wings out. Izzy was once again struck by how big and powerful your wings were. “But you seemed to be having a good time so… I only really doubled back when I realized the watch shift was going to change, figured you wouldn’t want any of the crew seeing you.”

Again with you being so frustratingly considerate of him. Izzy sighed. You still made little sense to him with all that kindness but that was an issue for another day. “You ought to go to sleep. I’ll handle your morning tasks so you can sleep in.”

You immediately waved your hands. “Oh you don’t have to do that!”

“I know I don’t.” Izzy replied matter-of-factly. “Just as you didn’t need to stay up late to help me nor take me flying.”

“You don’t owe me for any of that, Izzy. I did that because I wanted to.” 

He actually fumbled with his words for a moment. If it were anyone else, he would have immediately called bullshit, but you looked so incredibly genuine. Either you were the best liar he’d ever met, or you were being sincere. “In that case, go to bed. I’ll cover for you because I want to.” He tried to make his voice as authoritative as possible but it was incredibly hard to do that when you were looking at him so softly. “You’re not convincing me otherwise.”

You smiled. “If you insist. Goodnight Izzy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.” Izzy replied with a nod. You walked past him to the bunks, and Izzy gathered up his courage. “Thank you.” He managed to force out without turning to face you,  just as you were about to leave. 

“Of course, anytime!”

Left alone on deck for a few minutes until shift change, Izzy watched the sky.

[cxrsed-angel]

eddie x fem!reader (angst)

warning: angst no warnings i don’t think, around 2k words, not proofread

a/n: been in bad place mentally and i guess this was the result

You and Eddie had been broken up for almost a month now after being together for 2 years. When he broke up with you, he didn't give you a specific reason, he didn't say that he stopped loving you or you’ve done something wrong or anything. You wished he would’ve given you a reason as to why. You thought everything was going great, he graduated in ‘86 and started working as a mechanic, and you were both saving up to move into an apartment in Indianapolis while you attending Indiana State. You had a plan. What went wrong?

You were lying in your bed next to your stuffed animals, you had all the ones Eddie gave you in a box off to the side of your room. You didn't have the heart to donate them, they were really cute and had fun memories attached to them, but you couldn't look at them without starting to tear up. You missed him so much.

The Cure’s Pornography album softly played in the back. You look over at the stuffed animal box and see your white dragon stuffed animal Eddie had given you one day. He had the matching black one. You started thinking about the day he broke up with you, you tried hard not to, but it almost always played on replay in your head whenever you were alone with your thoughts.

You had just knocked on Eddie’s trailer, but you could tell something was off when he answered the door. He didn't look into your eyes, his body language was closed off, and he held his head down.“Um hey um come in” “are you okay” “um we need to talk.” You felt your heart sink into your stomach, you started getting a lump in your throat. “Ok what do you want to talk about” “babe-no um this wow hard,” he laughed lightly, but you could tell it was out of nerves more than anything “Eds you’re starting to scare me did-did you like cheat on me or something” “What! No no but um I think we should stop seeing each other” You felt your heart get ripped out of your chest. You suddenly couldn't breathe. You were trying as hard as you could to start not crying. “What-what-what’d you mean like a-like-a um a break or a pause or something like that” You saw him shake his head, still not looking into your eyes. “No like stop all together not a break” “you want to break up?” He just nods “why-why, did I um do something” He shakes his head. “You could at least fucking look me in my eyes Edward” your voice started to get louder, the sadness starting to mix with anger. He couldn’t even look at you, “why do you want to break up” “just because,” he said nonchalantly. He looked like he didn’t even care. “No this isnt something you can shrug off, do you not love me anymore, did you sleep with someone else, do you just not want to be-” “God! Can’t you just leave Jesus I don’t want to deal the 3rd degree right now can you just leave!” He yelled at you, it was the first time he had looked into your eyes since you’d gotten inside his trailer. “Sure Eddie yea um have a good life.” You stormed out, almost slamming the door, but you remembered he hadn’t gotten fixed yet and didn't want to cause anymore damage, especially to Wayne. You just get into your car and drive home.

Your pink phone ringing on the nightstand next to your bed breaks out of your thoughts that were replaying the scene again and again. You looked at the clock. It was 12 am, who is calling you this late? You get up and sit on the edge of your bed, “Um hello” there was a silence “hello?” you asked, more annoyed now “look if this is fucking prank-” “fuck i missed your voice” you pause, hearing his voice, you missed his too, but anger started boiling again. “Wrong number” you slam your phone down and lay back on your bed. You start reading your book to distract your mind from him. About 30 minutes later, your phone rings again, you stare at it, a part of you know it's Eddie again, but there’s a small part of you that was naive enough to believe it was someone else. You knew it was unlikely you didn't really have friends, especially ones who would call you this late; you were just acquaintances with Eddie’s, honestly. You sigh and picked up the phone “I'm not fucking doing this all night, Eddie” “I know I know but I just really wanted to hear you” He sounded off like he was high or something, you could hear it in his voice. “Are you fucking high right now?” there was a pause “maybe” “fuck you Eddie. ” You slam your phone down but leave it off the hook so he couldn’t call back. “That dick he doesn't call you for weeks, goes out of his way to avoid you, then calls you high he probably wants to come over and get his dick wet”, you thought to yourself.

You lay back down for a minute until you sit up and remember you have a personal phone and a general home phone for your apartment that your mother insisted you have when you moved out. You lay back down, “he wouldn't, right?” You thought about it for a minute and sat up “yea, the motherfucker would” you sprint to the phone as soon as you entered your living room, you see it ringing. You know you should just leave it alone, then take it off the hook and go about your night, but a small piece you believe he’s gonna call, apologize, and you’ll be back together that piece won. You slowly pick it up. “Hello?” this time, you stayed silent “babe, I know you're there,” you still don't respond “please just say something” you had nothing to say, though. You felt numb, you had lost your best friend and the love of your life all in one night, and he couldn't even give you a reason. And here he was calling you high, why, you started crying, ‘why couldn't he break my heart and leave me alone” you thought. You sniffled through the speaker “are-are you crying” you start crying more, hearing his soft tone. The one that had comforted you when you got rejected from your dream college when your pet guinea pig died, every time you had an existential crisis, or every time you would feel alone from having no close friends, he was always there. You sniffle into the phone again “wrong number,” you say coldly. You slam the phone down on and left it hanging off the wall.

You flop down on your couch and start crying, crying over the fact that you had no one, no one you could call and ask for help or talk to, crying because it was going so well, or so you thought, you felt like you messed everything up, like you did something wrong. You slowly cried yourself to sleep like you’d done almost every night since the breakup.

You were woken up by soft knocking on your door, you sat up looking at the clock on your coffee table, “why is someone knocking at 7:00 am” the knocking started getting more aggressive “Ok, Okay give me a minute!” You open the door and see Dustin and Steve arguing “No man, you didn't need to bang her door down at 7:00 in the morning.” “Well, I can't come after school you know that” “yea but I'm just saying we can just knock lightly and -” you look between them “hey whats this about?” “um can we come in,” Dustin asks? You just open the door wider “sure its not like I was sleeping or anything.”

They both come in and sit on your couch. “I would offer drinks but you woke me up before noon so you dont get a nice host” “thats fair thats fair um Steve do you want to um start” you lift your eyebrow up “ok seriously what is this” ‘its about-um Eddie” you stand up and walk over you your front door “get out” “wait just hear him out please” you look at Dustin and roll you eyes as you sit by down “what about…him” “He’s been miserable lately” “and thats my probably because?” “you guys need to get back together, he hasn’t been coming to Hellfire, the dungeon master, he takes is role very seriously and not like him to miss one session let alone every week.” “look Dustin thats rough but I dont understand want you want me to do” Steve started talking “maybe just hear him out whatever he did to make you want to take-” “wait wait wait you think I broke up with him” “well yea he didnt tell us but by the state he’s in we thought you ended it” you laugh and shake your head “no you guys got it all wrong um” you look down “he broke up with me.” There was a huge pause, “holy shit” “holy shit’ “yea holy shit guys so if this is over i would like to go back to sleep.’” They both nodded “um yea come on Henderson I’ll drop you off at school” “yea yea um we’ll see you later,” you wave and lock the door behind them.

You go to your bedroom and gain the sudden motivation to take all of Eddie’s stuff back to his trailer. You hope now would he would be at his shift at the car shop so you wouldn’t see him. After an hour, you were almost done until you see the box of stuffed animals. You were gonna be sad not seeing them, but you knew you needed to give them back if you ever want to even think about moving on. You put the stuffed animals in with the plastic box you had from moving, you decided to do one big box instead of smaller cardboard boxes that way, you just drop it off and move off with your life.

After a 15-minute drive and 10-minutes stalling outside the trailer park, you finally enter and park by his trailer. “Ok, you got this, you got this,” you say to yourself as you get the box out of your backseat. You take a deep breath and knock on the door, you were so anxious and nervous you wanted to turn back and cry, but you waited. You see Wayne open the door “hey kid,” “um hi Wayne um I have some of Eddie’s stuff” He nods, “come on in.” You shake your head, you weren't ready to step back into the place where you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. You weren't ready to see his stuff, to be in the place that had once been your safe place that now kept you wondering what you did wrong, why didn't he want to be with you anymore. “Come on, kid, we can still be friends” you look up at him, crying a little bit “um really” he nodded “of course.” You slowly walk in and stand in the middle of the living room. “You can just put that on the floor” you put the box and floor and go to sit on the couch, but waves of memories come flooding in, all the movies nights, the first time you tried weed, make-out sessions, him teaching about DnD and showing you the newest campaign he had worked on, you just stare down at the couch.

“You can sit on the barstool, um by the counter” you just nod and go to sit. “Im gonna be honest with you, kid, this is the worst I've seen him since, um since his parents.” You didn't know much about his parents but knew they left him when he was around 10 or 11. That's all he ever told you, and he never mentioned it again. “Well um, he-he made his choice” Wayne walked over and sat on the bar stool next to the one. “My nephew, he um has a tendency of ruining good things, he has a leave before they leave me first mindset, you know, he’s been abandoned by his parents, friends one he started being himself you know, he the the town he grew up abandoned him in a way, you were his first serious girlfriend and honestly sweetie I think he got spooked, he really loves you, and you loves him back, and he’s so use to only me being around I think he wanted to leave before you left him” you felt the tears pooling up in your eyes, now it made sense why he never gave you a reason he was leaving before you left him, you look up at Wayne, “he thought I was gonna leave him” you started crying harder “I wasnt going to,” you say through sobs, Wayne puts a hand on your back “I know you weren't kid I know.” You stay there just crying life you've been doing all month, you just missed him so much, you don't even know how long you’ve been crying, you just felt so bad that he thought you were going to leave him or suddenly not want you and that so many people in his life has made him feel that way, he was the sweetest person you’ve ever known, and didn't deserve all the shit he put up with,

In between crying, you go to get up to leave when you hear the door open, and you feel the same way you did a month ago, lump in your throat, your heart suddenly in your stomach, you felt like you couldn't breathe. “Hey Wayne, I’m gonna go smoke in my-” You slowly get off the barstool “um I was just go-” “no-no, you two need to talk ” You see Wayne grab his keys and walk out. You stand still, staring at the floor, you couldn’t look at him. “Um, listen I’m really sorry,” you see him start to walk near you and flinch away, stepping back, distancing yourself from him. “For-for the calls or-” “ for that and for ending it the way I did, so suddenly, honestly, that night I realized how much I love you, and I’ve never loved anyone like the way I love you, it scared the shit out of me sweetheart, then I started thinking how you weren’t made to stay in Hawkins, you weren't meant to stay in this small ass town, babe, I realized I was holding you back and you could do so much better than me.” You see tears in his eyes now “but I don't want anyone else because there is no one better for me than you Eds. I love you so much, and I would never leave you, and You weren’t made for Hawkins either. You’re too metal for this small ass town.” You see him smile slightly, “but you really hurt me, you know that, right” he nodded “I know, babe I was stupid I should've just talked to you, I just didn't know what to do” you nod “I know Eds”  “can I give you a hug” you nodded again, and he pulls you tightly against his chest “I’m so sorry baby I will never do that again promise Im so so sorry.” You pushed him away slightly “but if you ever break up with me again and proceed to call me high in the middle night Im not taking you back” he laughs a little “while that is fair, I promise I will never break up with you ever again.” You lean up to kiss him and bent down a little and grabbed your face, his lips felt nice and  comforting.

He pulls you away from him, slightly looking down into your eyes, and you stare back at his, “man his eyes are so pretty,” you thought to yourself “I’ve missed my princess, babe” you wipe tears off your face “I’ve missed you more.” “do you want to cuddle or do you still need some space from me” “I can use a cuddle, but Eds, please, please come talk to me ok, I’m here for you and I never want you to feel that way about us again ok babe” he nods and tears slowly falling “I promise”

He wraps an arm around your waist and you walk back to his room. You both take off your shoes and lay down in his bed. He pulls you tightly into him “ ive missed your cuddles” “me too”

[jacenotjason]

Can we just get some rambles about your AU, like nothing specific, just like little details you haven’t had the ask or idea to express artistically? I just love any little details about this AU (Howdy’s little finger beans)

AAAAA oh my god YES here’s some rambles from the depth that is this AU! Random factoids and snippets and hehehheheh

(Oh hey and checkout the AU itself!)

Hiding this under a ‘readmore’ becasue FUCK I WENT ON A RANT HAUIDA- i tried to stop i swear

OPEN THE FLOOD GATES!!

I HAVE PLAYLISTS FOR ALL THE CHARACTERS!! Ive been thinking about how to share them for awhile bc I LOVE these playlists and they help my brain rot on this AU but mm! Just wanted to get that out there im holding onto these

Something people didn’t catch was that in this animation, which is supposed to take place around the time Eddie moved into the neighborhood, he had his mail hat! But, currently, he doesn’t! That’s not because he lost it, Howdy actually stole it! Howdy immediately attempted to scam Eddie when he first arrived, stealing his hat and trying to sell it back to him, but he did not know that Eddie would not give a fuck. Howdy thought Eddie cared way more about his job then he actually does. So, Eddie’s hat is still currently decaying under Howdy’s desk.

All the characters have trauma or something depressing about them… except Julie! I’m not sure why but I just.. never came up with something reasonable for her backstory. I came up with a lot of ideas, but a lot of them seemed to cliche and controversial? Like, one of my ideas was some sort of sex working trauma, but I thought oooh of course you gave the most feminine character the sex working backstory! Another idea was eating disorder trauma, but again, ooh i gave the fem one the ED! The same thing happened with SA trauma, it all just felt so… cliche. And I felt like I would get a lot of backlash if I tried to implement this. So.. im still working on it!

^ originally Franks backstory was going to be completely SA related, but I changed that. Still not spoiling how, though.

^^ also I really liked the sex working idea! Because I think it would be interesting if thats how Eddie and her met. Not that Eddie bought sex from her, but that they like worked together and slowly became friends! Eddie kept her safe n stuff, beat the shit out of ppl that didnt pay yknow? Explored a deeper level of understanding between them

Ive been daydreaming about attempting to make my own little bootleg “play fellow exhibition” not nearly to the extent that Clown did, but just some sort of fake “restored” things! Maybe even fake interviews with those that remember the show! Ive even recorded some lines, of my own voice, of fake voice clips restored from the show. I haven’t had the confidence to post any of them just yet aa. I think my Eddie impression is IMPECCABLE though. Maybe bc I have a southern accent

^ also if this isnt obvious this AU is still a show being restored by a team, the show is just the adult parody ive created here. Ill be sure to specify if i ever post something restoration-lore-related!

The number of fingers they have is inconsistent, and that is not lore related! I am just an idiot! You might notice that sometimes they have 5, sometimes they have 4. I.. have no actual reason for this. I literally just.. forget! Im literally currently drawing a piece with Julie and Sally where they both have 5 fingers. Why?? Bc the reference I used was of two human girls so!! Just wanted to put it out there, that is not on purpose

I hide a lot of secrets in my art. Bc its fun. If you ever see something in my art thats a little too dark, feel free to up the brightness and see what you find. Does something sort of look like Morse code? Feel free to try it out! I’ll give you a hint, I have used both of these techniques to hide secrets in my art already. The Morse code one is really hard to find, though, so props to you if you find it!

I like to think that the AU’s show is like Rick and Morty. It started out this comedic, very clearly adult-humored show, but slowly the characters had lore! People started watching not for the humor but for the interesting characters. Like when Rick was revealed to have a depressing story with his wife and all that, it was the same as when ppl first found out about Frank’s strange amnesia and PTSD. Like “?? Who put lore in my funny adult comedy??” Yknow what i mean

^ i like to think there was some mind-bending moment where it was revealed Frank doesnt remember anything about his childhood and everyone watching was like :O

Originally in the show, (like season one), the characters were the way they are to make fun of those things. Confusing, but what i mean is that Poppy was a trans woman to make fun of trans people, Eddie and Frank were to make jokes about gay ppl, etc. but SIKE once the show got more seasons and got lift off they became actual characters instead of just jokes! The creators just wanted to make ppl love the show before they made the gay characters actually have personalities, so they couldn’t get cancelled prematurely! HA SUCKERS!!

FFUck okay i think i got it all out of me?? Idk feel free to ask again in like a month maybe more shit will have accumulated in my brain