#i will literally find a way to bring him to life

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

QUARTER-FINALS MATCH 2

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

Asra propaganda:

“He GIVES AWAY HALF HIS HEART TO REVIVE YOU okay but like. He's the MCs roommate and they were together for a few years before the MC caught a plague and died and he obsesses over a way to bring them back before succeeding by making a deal with a god to trade half his heart for MC and betraying the emperor. And then when MC comes back but without any of their memories, he takes care of them and teaches them how to live all over again and he never asks for anything in return. On all the routes where you don't choose him he's really supportive and helps you out despite your history and overall he's just really nice and supportive of the MC and is their rock no matter what route you go down. Also he has a pet snake named Faust and I love her she's so <33 

Idk I just appreciate him so much”

"He gave you half his HEART!! He would literally go to hell and back for you!! He wants to take you on adventures all around the world—doesn’t matter where, as long as he’s by your side!! AND he’s nonbinary!!!"

"He is so caring!! Anyone who says he is boring or his 'route' was boring is a LIAR or didn't really understand his character! He is such a sweet person

Asra propaganda on this poll doesn't even do him any justice!! He makes friends wherever he travels to , likes knitting for his familiar snake , is a sweetheart, WILL take care of you even in the lowest point of your life"

[elllisaaa]

loved the bf!beomgyu!!! <3 could you perhaps do bf!taehyun as well? :)

the bf!txt agenda is not doing any good for my delulu hours but here we go !!

BF!TAEHYUN who is not the most talkative, but that is the most caring and observant boyfriend ever.

for example, he knows exactly what your coffee order is, he knows what your favourite snacks are, and he knows which song from your long ass playlist on spotify is your favourite. and these are things you don't even have to tell him, just because he always has an eye on you, and because he wants you to feel like a princess. and that's how taehyun makes you feel everyday. whenever you need something, bet he would hand you his card so you can pay for it. and don't even think about paying something for yourself or the both of you when you two are going out. but that's just because he wants to treat you like the queen you are.

"oh and i left my card for you on the kitchen counter, since you're going out with your friends this afternoon. i know you will do some shopping so get yourself something nice for our date tonight angel."

even if you don't workout, taehyun will bring you to the gym with him. he doesn't need you to do anything else than be there for him. it's maybe not what some would call quality time, but it is for both of you, especially when his schedule is so packed. he steals some kisses between his sets, lets you vent to him about your annoying coworkers, and smiles everytime you take his towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. and yes, he also loves it when you gush over his muscles and how strong he is. he's often the one praising you, and when you compliment him, he always finds a way to turn it back and fluster you. so sometimes, you make it your life mission to make him blush instead. and he lets you do so because you have him wrapped around your finger.

"you're very pretty today angel." - "but you're prettier tae, the prettiest boy in the world." - "what did i do to deserve you ?"

you know that your boyfriend sometimes struggles to talk about his emotions and feelings, and you're always here for him no matter what. but when he finally opens up to you, he's never backing up. everytime he feels bad or tired we would've kept it to himself and stayed alone before. but now, after a long day at work, all he wants is to come back home to you and hold you close to him. sometimes he needs to tell you everything that happened, and sometimes he just needs you to soothe him into your embrace. either way, he feels the most at ease, the most loved when he's close to you. in the mornings after these nights, he wakes up before you to make you breakfast as a thank you, even if you insist that he doesn't need to and that it's your job as his girlfriend. but the princess treatment never ends with taehyun, and he will never take you for granted.

"just eat angel, i did it because i wanted to and because i love you."

BF!TAEHYUN who pays for everything just so he can literally ruin you for any other men when you come back home.

because the reason he let you borrow his card to pay for your hair, your nails and your clothes, has some ulterior motives. he loves it when you're all dolled up for him, when you take up so much time to look even better than usual for him. he especially loves it when you're wearing skirts or dresses, because it gives him an easier access for when he bends you over the couch and fucks you from behind. he loves it when your makeup runs down your face because you're crying from how good he's making you feel. taehyun loves it when your hair are all tangled and messy because he's tugging on them when you're sucking on his cock. and he loves it when he sees the scratching marks your brand new nails he payed for had left on his back.

"that's it princess, cry for me. feels good ? i know it does."

taehyun is always willing to give you everything you want in bed, as long as you're good for him and doing everything he's telling you to. one of his favourite ways to torture you a little is by edging you. you can choose how he's pleasing you - his mouth, fingers or cock, whatever you want, he'll give it to you - but you have to warn him every time you're close, and he'll stop. and when he finally lets you cum, he's telling how proud of you he is, how good you are for him, and how good he's gonna fuck you as a reward. and he does fucks you good, so good you're going dumb and can only whine and cry out for him.

"my good girl, i'm gonna take care of you, hm ? gonna reward my angel."

but when you're not following his orders, or when you decide to be a brat and act out, he has no other choice but to discipline you, right ? his go to punishment is to bend you over his lap and spank you. taehyun makes you count each slap he gives you, finding it cute how red the skin of your ass gets with each new one. he loves it when you stumble over your words, moaning and crying out when he slaps your butt one more time. each time, you take your punishment so well he cannot do anything else than rewarding you with his cock, because after all, you're his princess and he just wants to give you the best. and obviously, he loves it when you're all cute and innocent, but the best moment is when you become nasty and desperate for him and he gets to lovingly degrade you.

"my pretty little slut, acting like a saint and whoring yourself out for my cock."

[loveharlow]

my unpopular obx opinions that no one asked for (unfiltered and in detail)...

Sarah cheating on John B was not unexpected. She ran into the arms of Topper Thornton whenever the opportunity presented itself which bring me to my next point...

Sarah does not like being a pogue. I believed she liked the initial freedom and adventure but when shit gets tough, she runs back to what reminds her of her old life (*cough cough* Topper). She has the luxury of being on the fence of Kook and Pogue sometimes.

Pope is technically the real main character of the show. On paper, yes, the show is about John B finishing the treasure hunt that his father started. BUT, after season 2, it was clear that the entire treasure itself revolved around Pope, a direct descendant of the man the treasure belonged to and I don't think we got enough of that.

Pope is a stronger character than he is presented to be. I think the show highlighted his self-defense capability in seasons 2 and 3 but it's widely ignored that this man has gone up against Rafe on multiple occassions and lowkey beat his ass. (Rafe beat his ass too but still).

Kiara will forever be wrong for how she did Pope. She treated him like SHIT. Like, if I was Pope, I genuinely could not be friends with her after like. P4L my ass. And then there are people who call him butthurt but if the roles were reversed...Hardcore Kie fans can defend her all they'd like but after a certain point, there was no excuse for her to be leading him on the way she did. She knew she didn't like him in that way and that's very clear from the start of season 2, but she proceeds to sleep with him and then tell him off.

Ward is a better father than Big John. Y'know, I pondered on this for a bit. And I am standing by it. Big John would break both of John B's legs and throw him onto a set of train tracks if it got him closer to finding the gold and excuse it by saying some shit like "But you didn't die, did ya, Bird?". Like that man was ALIVE for almost an entire year and made no attempt to contact his son. Ward is a criminal by all means but most of the time, at least what we saw as viewers, he was doing it for Rafe.

Cleo deserves more screen time and a better backstory. I know she's a new character and all but like WHAT'S HER LAST NAME?? Like does she not have one? Is she not real??

(edit) Kiara is very insensitive to the feelings of her friends and overall generally self-centered. She literally acts like her parents are the worst in the world. I get it, they don't like her friends and they are indeed hypocritical towards the pogues considering her father was one. But in season 2, she gets in the car and says "this shit would be so much easier without parents" next to JJ, aka the one with an abusive father. Not to mention, she's seen how John B fell apart after his father disappeared and how hard it's been for Sarah to go against her father.

CLEOPOPE BEST SHIP.

Anyway, I did this out of boredom. I had to take a break from actual writing for a moment.

[myohmyimanxious]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons bc I'm obsessed xoxo

(Some NSFW is implied/mentioned)

-Husk was there when alastor sold his soul to whomever it was

- He also has no trust is alastor whatsoever like he's terrified of him but he also wouldn't trust him for his life (literally)

- Angel has PTSD

- But he doesn't realise he has it, bc he represses feelings and everything

- Charlie and Angel have a sibling dynamic

- They're pain in the asses for vaggie and husk

- Charlie reminds angel of his sister molly

- He also doesn't really like to celebrate his birthday bc it's not the same without her (unless he's shit-faced drunk and won't remember)

- Vox will make his screen brighter or flicker to get and hold val's attention

- Angel is Husk's lucky charm in gambling moments

- Angel genuinely did love val in the beginning and thought val loved him too

- Whilst Alastor truly does believe that a smile is a both a way to control the situation and hide one's true intentions, his smile is stitched on and he physically cannot remove the stitches as it's part of his deal

- Alastor is colourblind in the same way deer are

- Angel knows what they said about him in Angel court and he plays it off but it really upset him

- Alastor was a serial killer in his life

- He was never caught though

- Alastor plays static when actively trying to ignore someone

- He also plays music for the hotel to dance too, finding that he and Angel enjoyed the same music (bc of the similar time period)

- Husk once got alastor drunk enough to dance with Charlie and taught her how to Charleston dance

- Nifty is like everyone's child. You cannot mess with her

- Nifty will bring bugs to the person she likes most that day (usually alastor)

- Vaggie has threatened angel's life on many occasions

- Those two argue constantly (it's friendly tho)

- Charlie spends a lot of her time breaking up little spats in the hotel

- Charlie has nightmares about the time she saw alastors true demon form

- It made her feel super bad for him too, and she's offered to cut the stitches on his mouth but he refuses

- Lucifer is trying to be a better dad

- It's hard but he is actively trying

- He likes to hand out rubber ducks he's made/painted when people are upset

- Angel has a lot of them, bc he frequently seems to catch Lucifer when he's returning from work

- Lucifer is autistic for sure

- And his ducks are his special interest

- Lowkey he's also smitten by fat nuggets when he meets him

- So much so that when angel is at work lucifer happily offers to feed and look after the lil guy

- Fat nuggets once ate off of alastors plate, and that's the only time it ever happened bc by fucking god did alastor go crazy

- He didn't hurt fat nuggets tho it's okay, he wanted to but angel was like ILL DIE AGAIN BITCH TRY ME MOTHERFUCKER and pulled out some guns

- Angel gives Alastor the tea of what's going down with the Vee's when he gets it

- Mainly bc he hates the Vee's as much as Alastor and also bc Alastor asked him too and he's kinda scared of him

- And also bc it's fucking easy bc Val is a dumb bitch who doesn't know how to be subtle if he tried, Vox thinks so little of Angel that he thinks Angel would be too focused on the sex and Velvette doesn't care much for Angel either

- That's not to say that the Vee's haven't tried to get Angel to be their spy on the inside too, it's just Angel is like nothing to report also I gotta work sorry and just lies to them

- A wannabe patron once was rude to Charlie and lucifer decked them

- Everyone was amazed he had it in him to do it like that bc damn mans was pissed

- Let's just say nobody is rude to Charlie anymore just in case

- Also Charlie is also fucking terrifying when she wants/needs to be

- Someone called Angel a whore and tried to touch him and she went off

- Lucifer had to hold her back

- Fuck with her friends and she will kill you 😊

- Charlie cries at everything (good or bad)

- Vaggie is a real trooper putting up with it

- Angel was like "would you be like that with me if I cried all the time?" To husk, and husk with no hesitation said "fuck no"

- Husk treats Angel like a princess in the streets but a slut in the sheets

- They've deffo fucked behind the bar

- Charlie and Rosie keep in touch

- They have tea parties with Alastor

- Val is scared of Niffty bc she's unpredictable and bc he's not over what happened in the club

[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: Goku fights smarter. Vegeta fights harder.

As a martial artist, Goku's developed and cultivated his skills over the course of his life, mastering a variety of creative techniques and, more importantly, honing his mind. A quick-thinking and analytical counter-fighter, Goku prides himself on a creative and clever dismantling of his adversary's capabilities.

This is where Goku excels as a fighter. He's a formidable martial artist in his own right but when pressured, he falls back on a generally high understanding of violence and a creative mind for opening solutions. He reads his opponent's style and abilities, finds its weaknesses, and exploits them.

This, incidentally, is part of what what made Majin Buu such an insurmountable hurdle for him.

Majin Buu is a taffy monster made of magic who defies even this universe's conventional physics. He has no fighting style; He just does things, and his infinitely regenerative body and supreme liquid flexibility leaves no weaknesses to exploit.

He cannot be fought the way Goku fights.

For his own style, Goku has one particular signature technique and a couple other moves he's picked up from others. His mainstay is the Kamehameha. But he's innovated a wide variety of ways in which the Kamehameha can be used, based on the needs of his situation.

Goku's used the technique in a variety of ways, such as using it for propulsion instead of as an attack.

Bending it around the opponent's defense for a surprise attack.

Making stationary torpedos that he can fire at will to startle and disorient his adversary.

The coolest attack in Dragon Ball history YES I SAID IT. Learning to teleport? Cool. Kamehameha? Cool. Teleporting in while charging the Kamehameha in order to throw it directly under your opponent's guard before he even has an instant to react? Top-tier.

Point is, this is who Goku is as a fighter. Brilliant and innovative, bringing a great deal of cleverness and creativity to his fights. He breaks down his opponent's technique and adapts himself to the needs of the situation at hand.

Vegeta is also highly observant and analytical. Do not mistake me for calling him stupid. He makes plans of his own, and his greatest asset is his ability to follow everything happening on the field at once. It is next to impossible to get the drop on this man.

Vegeta pays attention.

Vegeta is always paying attention. He splits his focus incredibly well and quickly interprets what he's seeing and hearing with a critical eye. He misses nothing.

He is. Always. Paying attention. The one time someone actually managed to get the drop on him - and I cannot stress this enough - it was a person Vegeta did not know existed because he had not been a part of this battle up to this point.

Am I saying that Yajirobe's cowardice saved the world by not revealing his presence to Vegeta until this fateful moment? Yes. Yes, I am saying that. We literally have a counter-example from someone Vegeta did know and account for to contrast it with.

Vegeta is always paying attention. Unless he doesn't know you exist.

So. Yeah. Vegeta is incredibly brilliant and observant. But what he's not is a martial artist. Vegeta, instead, is a soldier. He's comfortable in the realm that overwhelming power creates.

Vegeta hits hard.

He hits very hard.

He hits very, very, VERY hard.

In fact, Vegeta hits harder than Goku does. That's not to say that Vegeta is stronger than Goku; Vegeta and Goku go back and forth on who's stronger in the given moment over the course of the series. But Vegeta's attacks are stronger than Goku's.

To understand what that means, you need to understand that certain kinds of ki attacks have a multiplying effects on their user's strength. Attacks such as the Kamehameha or the Makankosappo, which concentrate ki before firing it, produce a much greater level of ki than their user's standard power output.

When charging a Kamehameha, Goku's battle power reading on the Scouter rises dramatically. This is the secret of techniques like the Kamehameha: they concentrate ki into a point before releasing it all at once, like pulling the pin on a grenade.

As concentration moves go, the Kamehameha isn't actually that great. The versatility and creativity that Goku brings to it is what makes it so formidable. Pound for pound, it kinda sucks. Piccolo's Makankosappo here makes the Kamehameha look like noob shit.

This kind of ability is non-standard among ki attacks, which are typically like throwing long-range punches. In fact, it's super-rare among the Planet Trade to be able to do this. Raditz had never even heard of a move like this.

Vegeta had. He knew of exactly one.

I am so sorry to do this to you but we're going to have to talk about battle power numbers here for a moment. Vegeta's clocked at 18,000 BP as of his battle with Goku on Earth; it's brought up a few times in the Namek arc.

Goku, iconically, is OVER 9000 8000!!!

At the moment Vegeta and Goku's attacks meet, Goku is channeling the Kaio-ken x3 which is exactly what it sounds like. He's inflated the ki inside his body to 300% capacity. The drawback is that his body is now an overinflated balloon ready to pop at any moment from all this swelled and bloated ki inside of him. But the gain is that he's outputting 300% power.

At this point in time, Vegeta has a battle power of 18,000. Goku, formerly >8,000 is now >>>24,000. Goku, further, is using the Super Kamehameha rather than the regular one he used against Raditz, which brings with it a higher level of power multiplication.

Nonetheless, the Galick Gun is winning against the Super Kamehameha. Goku is forced to resort to a x4 Kaio-ken - which does leave his body utterly destroyed and incapable of continuing the fight - in order to have enough power to overcome a superior magnification from a weaker opponent.

We see another direct comparison between the two in the Cell arc. That killer Warp Kamehameha fired point-blank into Cell when he least suspects it, which hits him dead-on and unloads its absolute maximum power into him? It does this.

Brutal. If Cell didn't have both Frieza's ability to survive ludicrous levels of harm and Piccolo's regeneration, it would have been over right here. Meanwhile, a glancing blow from Vegeta's Final Flash left him looking like this.

Despite Vegeta being far less powerful than Goku was when he fired that move, the effect is about the same - With implication that if Vegeta hadn't pulled the Final Flash back at the last second to avoid destroying the Earth, he would have erased Cell completely.

Goku's shot hit Cell point-blank and full-on to do about as much damage, albeit with deadlier aim in terms of killing a humanoid being.

This is the distinction between Goku and Vegeta as fighters. Vegeta is very smart, and Goku is very strong. Neither of them is lacking in intelligence or power. But they are philosophically very different fighters.

Pound for pound, Vegeta's moves hit harder than Goku's. He is the unparalleled master in taking the power he has and channeling it into as much destructive force as humanly possible.

On the flipside of that coin, when backed into a corner, Vegeta falls back on outputting as much direct force as he can. Goku gets to thinking his way around the problem at hand and devising a creative answer.

Goku is a surgical scalpel. Vegeta is a warhammer.

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

Masterlist

Prev |

Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.  

A senseless daydream.  

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it.  Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape.  This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place.  It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.  

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt.  Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life.  And last week he was suddenly dead.  It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie.  All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor.  Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.  

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s.  Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste.  Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  

Whatever you wanted. 

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke.  His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you.  He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him.  He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place.  Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick.  He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible.  Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible.  And for what?  For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions.  Pathetic, he knew.  But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.  

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man.  Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything.  He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come.  A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind.  And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver.  The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him.  He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better.  It was a lie.  He never had the flu.  He didn’t feel better.  He wanted to die.  And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive.  Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon.  His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones.  There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did.  A flaw in the system.  And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?  

Several.

He thought to himself.  

You could have gone to school, shown up.  

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no.  So.  Many.  Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death.  He couldn’t stop making excuses.  Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse.  For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together.  Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had.  It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision.  He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid.  Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed.  And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues.  Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies.  Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum.  Dancing in the living room.  Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees.  Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin.  Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense.  Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer.  That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised.  Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights.  Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in.  Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home.  Only he rarely did.  Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time.  Years and years of push back.  A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.  

“My dad has a ton of jobs.”  He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.  

The kids would snicker.  Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness.  And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day.  Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them.  Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature.  At least that’s how dad described it.  It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse.  They called his dad a drunk.  They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged.  “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie.  Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time.  Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt.  And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up.  Closure in some kind of fucked up way.  Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with.  Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes.  Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability.  No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door.  He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it.  This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions.  He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world.  They shouldn’t have to worry about me.  With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana.  A life he’d always longed for anyway.  

Be careful what you wish for.  

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away.  “One slip up…”  They had said.  It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him.  Literally anyone.  As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.  

Cause he was nothing if not a problem.  First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.  

“Eddie?!”  

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry.  The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.”  His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime.  “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear.  Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.  With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made.  You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Shh.”  You soothe. 

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose.  A wordless commitment.  Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere.  You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure.  Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had.  Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at.  He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.  

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house.  Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred.  If either spoke it would make it real.  Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him.  There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind.  Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip.  It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.  

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him.  In the standard of fight or flight, he froze.  Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together.  His croaking voice made that hard.  But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability.  And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime.  Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him.  Maybe that was dare you even think it, love.  But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions.  Conclusions you backtracked on immediately.  It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.      

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–”  A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.”  His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior.  “I shouldn’t–”  There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath.  “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn.  Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet.  Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.  

“How’d you know?”  He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.  

“Wayne called me.”  You sigh.  “Said he got my number from Steve.  Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?”  At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it.  “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in.  Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.”  You assure, taking care to relax your features.  “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out.  He wanted me to check in.  I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.”  You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again.  You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick.  The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor.  There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better.  You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again.  It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.  When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage.  In his eyes.

“But I will be.  Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses.  Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble.  A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.”  You demand.

“No, Bambi.  Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key.  Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself.  And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses.  His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness.  Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in.  He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!”  Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow.  “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down.  I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it.  My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.”  Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze.  A plea.  “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in.  I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal.  It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him.  The room turned colder, more vacant.  Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart?  His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall.  The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.  

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended.  Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what?  Stormed off?  Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat.  He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other.  And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness.  The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut.  An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.”  You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth.   “And I did.  You didn’t say how long or—or where to go.  But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake.  Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.  

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips.  Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you.  Your boy.  

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense.  Bambi and Eddie.  There is not one without the other, not anymore.  Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”  

It just fell from his tongue.  A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious?  Is that what you’re gonna ask?”  He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping.  Not because you’re afraid, no, never.  You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts.  “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.  

“Bad.”  He reiterates.  “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.”  Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip.  “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it.  And I’ll run with it.  Far.  Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.” 

“I’m a pathetic man.  Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”  

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.”  You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.”  He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.  

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.”  You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow!  Jesus fuck.”  Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek.  “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of.  Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.  

“Can you…can you do that again?”  He whispers.  Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck.  His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest  wet dreams.  

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail.  And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

 He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.  

“Like that, baby?”  You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.”  A whisper that tells you everything.  “I-I never—no one’s ever—“  He tries to warn you.

“What?”  You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe.  “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”  

“Just my hand.”  Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap.  Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his.  Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.  

“We can stop.”  You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.”  His voice shakes, chest heaving.  “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”  

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him.  But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable.  Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.”  You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him.  “Let me take care of you.”  

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles.  You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you.  His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.  

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far.  His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.”  You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.”  He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria.  “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.  

“Please, baby.  Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.  

“You bought condoms?  Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.  

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!”  You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back.  You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?”  You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.  

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care.  Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed.  You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you.  Purely Eddie.  Woodsy and minty.  A tad smoky.  And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room.  And then it plays.  A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love.  A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.  

“Well alright, cowboy.”  You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.  

“Shut up.”  He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.  

“C’mere.”  You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you.  “Wanna see you.” 

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach.  Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago.  The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined.  While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side.  Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him.  Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants.  Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.  

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet.  But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.  

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side.  His eyes grow, lips parted in awe.  And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.  

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control.  And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.  

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval.  That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it.  Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red.  Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.”  While grinding into nothing, poor boy.  “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands.  You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth.  Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps.  Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair. 

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot.  Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned.  Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone.  The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom.  The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.  

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm.  Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.  

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting.  The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

 Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds.  Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what.  Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime.  Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm.  His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted.  You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark.  All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you.  He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.  

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless.  Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit.  Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”.  That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close.  Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.  

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart.  Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.  

It could help though.  And that’s all that mattered.  If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing.  If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.  

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree.  Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar.  Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works.  Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.  

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did.  Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste.  Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.  

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes.  While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet.  Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity.  Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips.  A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”  You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.  

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth.  It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.  

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?”  He laughs, voice husky with sleep.  

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”  

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created.  Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow.  He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”  

Eddie just stared. 

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!”  You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you.  When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.  

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse.  I just didn’t.  I’m sorry.”  His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck.  And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you.  I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.”  You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table.  Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you.  Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute.  He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing. 

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I.  Love.  You.”  You enunciate each word with a peck.  “Point blank.  No exceptions.  You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man?  We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records.  A huge stack of them.  All genres.  Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal.  It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling.  That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?”  You scoff.  “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school.  You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach.  He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.  

And he was blushing. 

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me.  I picked some out that I knew you’d like.  Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them.  Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him.  Like Pandora’s box or something.  Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper.  A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold.  His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper.  It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture.  At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said. 

“No fucking way.”  He smiles, half laughs.  Then repeats himself.  Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around.  Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.  

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table.  The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other.  Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between.  His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three.  Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled.  Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  You miss it.  But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything.  Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi.  Makes small talk with mom and grandma.  Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day.  No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang.  Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual.  Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background.  Something about a broken sled.  Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either.  This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on.  Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default.  She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially.  Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house.  Beautiful in the summertime.  Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays.  One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

[frogoru]

posted this and then deleted it really quickly earlier. here she is again!! in all of her bothered-looking glory!!

if you wanna hear me ramble about her issues with marriage/commitment + a few other things i am about to do so right now!!!!!

"With her sharp smile and easy-going demeanor, Moxie's the type of woman that will drop everything to give you a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. She's a very touchy person, and it's really easy for her to grow comfortable around others. Physical affection is something that she values very deeply, and being able to feel the warmth of those around her brings her a sense reassurance. This eagerness to feel close to other beings is not exclusive to friendships in the slightest. Neon lights, shining stars, and quick flings make up most of her world. Romance has never been an easy thing for Moxie, and past events within her life that tore her down greatly make the possibility of a committed relationship sound hopeless to her. While she messes around quite often, it's common for her to keep her lovers emotionally closed off. Things can get pretty confusing for her in the event that she does catch feelings." (A snippet from her description page).

okay okay so... moxie is no stranger to promiscuity. she sleeps around a lot for the fun of it and holds casual sexual relationships with multiple people. though, despite how much action she gets in her current life, moxie has only ever been in one committed relationship.

when she was younger, the goat girl grew up in a loving, but strict household. her parents were very caring towards her and her siblings, but due to the city of hell's unmoderated nature, they found it important to keep a close eye on their children. they tried to limit the amount of outside influence that their little trip of goat kids had, and because of this, moxie didn't have as much freedom as most other children who grew up in the nightly realm. her parents were pretty firm with her when it came to things they deemed bad influences. they wanted her to stay on the right track and felt that if they weren't strict with the things she indulged in, she'd lose herself in the limelight of their bright, pleasure-focused city. moxie, who felt like she was missing out on the excitement that the world had to offer, naturally had a problem with this. despite her negative feelings about her family's parenting ways, moxie was alright. she was pretty moody in her teenage years, but nothing too bad happened.

up until the end of them, that is.

now, moxie's family had a pretty structured mindset when it came to running things. they weren't the only group of hell-dwellers who held this view and had another family close to them that shared it as well. it's reasonable, after all. don't want your offspring to focus on the wrong things in life, y'know? especially in such a poorly moderated realm, but anyways, back to that other family. while moxie's relatives were all goat-like demons, this family was on the more ferocious side. they all had wolf-like features and mostly straight, sharp horns.

while growing up, moxie came to know some of them pretty well. especially one boy, the eldest son of the family. i'm going to be so real with you right now i literally just named him like five seconds ago for this ramble but UM his name is name damian. so, moxie and damian. they're both the eldest children in their respective families, so they relate to each other in that regard pretty well. moxie is kind of indifferent about him when they first meet each other (they'd both be preteens), but after hanging out more, the two of them would grow close.

(this is him as an adult by the way. i just figured his design out yesterday)

moxie is pretty focused on school and academic stuff when she's young, so irritation due to lack of energy is usual for her. she gets kinda snappy at times because she's struck with a curse called "being teenage girl." damian finds her annoyed remarks towards him kind of amusing and further provokes her at times, but it usually ends in the two of them laughing it off together.

as a result of spending so much time together, their families take notice and are like "aww do you guys like each other ;)) aww," to which the two of them are like "EWWW no!!" but they do. they do like each other. moxie is pretty surprised by this because she doesn't really feel romantic attraction to other people often, but considering how close the two of them are, it sort of makes sense to her. the two of them start dating in the middle of their teen years.

i would be lying if i said the start of their relationship wasn't kickstarted by their families constantly annoying them about it though. in fact, this is something that kind of contributes to the end of their relationship.

after the two of them graduate and proceed to begin the rest of their lives, damian's family starts nagging him about tying the knot with moxie. he thinks about it for a little while and is like "yeahh we probably could." a little while after that, he plans a proposal date and goes over everything. him and moxie meet up in a public place to hang out, and damian gets on one knee and declares his wishes of marriage to her and all that jazz. moxie, who had no idea this was going to happen, gawks at him in shock. she says no and the two of them leave in an awkward silence, ignoring the sympathetic and nosy stares from onlookers around them.

the two of them go to moxie's place after the failed proposal, and she asks what in hell he was thinking. she tells him that the proposal was too sudden for her and that she feels like he's rushing into things. they literally just graduated, and moxie wants to live her life first. damian tells her that he understands and begrudgingly apologizes. does this do anything? no, not really, because after that, his family gets on his ass about it. the pressure that they give him about starting his own family and becoming a responsible man and all of that annoying stuff starts to seep into how he treats moxie in their relationship. moxie also deals with this sort of thing from her family, because knowing them, their relatives have probably been gossiping with one another about. they nag her about that cliché "when are you going to settle down and have kids >:(" stuff a lot, and hearing damian attempt to bring up the topic more and more does not help in the slightest.

moxie tries her best to be understanding about everything, but it's hard to do that when she hasn't even decided what she wants for herself yet. she doesn't understand why she has to rush into these things, and talking about it with her relatives always ends in her being lectured or spoken to condescendingly. a bit of time passes after damian's first proposal, and his family pushes him to try again. not wanting to disappoint them, he gives it another try. moxie's response is the same, but before she can begin to complain about everything again, damian holds her hand rather forcefully and asks why she's being so difficult about this. moxie stares at him in confused, baffled by his sudden attitude. she asks him what's up with all of this, and he begins to go on about everything his family has told him about moving on in this new path of life or whatever.

he kind of starts... guilt-tripping her?? he goes on about how hard this is for him and doesn't really acknowledge how everything is affecting her as well. he tells that he's been thinking about the direction their relationship is going, and that the things his family has told him have been starting to click in his mind. he feels like getting married early on and ensuring their reliance on each other would help with avoiding outside forces that threaten their bond, and he essentially just repeats over and over again about how this is probably the best option for the two of them.

staring up at the boy she's loved for most of her youth, moxie starts feeling guilty about how she's handled the subject. she takes his words to heart and wonders if she's really just been insensitive this whole time. after all, relationships require sacrifice. her eyes glance at everywhere but damian as she thinks to herself, letting her worriful thoughts take the reins of her mind. she finds it hard to say no to him. so, she intertwines their fingers and hesitantly says yes.

it's not long before the fateful day arrives. their friends and families are all ecstatic. moxie sits alone, staring at herself in her wedding gown. she's had mixed feelings about the whole thing, and these feelings haven't changed one bit. the ceremony is today and she's still worried about what her future holds. she bites her lip, attempting to hold back tears that threaten to spill. she tells herself that she's being dramatic about this, and that things will be okay. after all, she'll still live after everything's over.

she's not even sure why she's so upset, to be honest. moxie loves damian, and the natural step after dating for such a long time is to get married, right? she knew this was bound to happen some way or another. she loves him, so she's very conflicted about not wanting to do this. she shouldn't be sad. she shouldn't be sitting alone in the restroom, wiping her tears away as mascara streams down her face. she gets up and stares at herself in the mirror, puffy eyes and all. this isn't her. this isn't the girl she's stared at in the mirror all of these years. she furrows her brows in frustration, a sense of realization coming over her. she doesn't want to do this. it's too soon.

she goes over to wherever damian is and tells him she wants to talk. damian looks confused for a moment, but ultimately knows what the deal is. the two of them get into an argument about everything that's happening. she tells him how she feels about everything and that she no longer wants to pretend to be okay with it for the sake of their family's feelings. damian berates her for being so careless, asking how she could be alright with just throwing everything away like that, especially now. they continue yelling at each other, before moxie straight up just walks out without another word. she goes straight home and packs her things. she's done getting lectured about who or what she should be, and promptly runs away from home.

her family tries to reach out to her, but she ignores their calls. although she's technically an adult at this point in time, she literally just began adulthood, so everything that's being thrown at her right now just takes a huge toll on her mental health. her emotions kind of blur her vision and cause her to make rash decisions. she meets up with damian a while after that whole thing happens and ends up breaking things off with him (wow what a surprise) and he doesn't take this well at all. he gets really upset and ermmm let's just say they don't end on good terms!!!! moxie's family isn't too fond of her either. the whole wedding event was incredibly embarrassing to them, and they tell her not to return home anytime soon. they're ashamed of her actions and view her as selfish for doing what she's done. she still keeps in touch with her younger siblings, but who sympathize with her.

as moxie grows older and continues to live her life, she refrains from entering any romantic relationships. this isn't too bad, considering romance doesn't come easy to her, but she does miss the comfort and warmth of having someone to love. i think this feeling is how she starts getting into hookup culture and stuff like that. she desires affection and love, but the concept of being committed to someone scares her pretty badly after everything that's happened. she's terrified of growing close to someone and devoting herself to them, only for something like that to happen again.

her relationship with thalia is really confusing to her because of this. she loves thalia a lot, but it feels so hard to devote herself to her. the two of them act like a couple and do things that take their friendship to the next level, but neither of them really talk about it in fear of ruining what they have. moxie thinks that if the two of them talked about it, then she'd probably be expected to give up her lifestyle for a committed relationship. you can't have your cake and eat it too, as they say.

despite what moxie thinks, thalia would be okay with letting her do what she wants. she knows that moxie lives a different life from her, and all she really wants is to continue loving her. she wants to be someone important to her. the thing that bothers thalia when it comes to their weird little situationship is the fact that moxie doesn't explicitly regard thalia as someone more than a friend that she sleeps with. having grown up in the heavenly realm, thalia was never really familiar with the concept of "friends with benefits" until her friendship with moxie turned into that. sex has always been something you do with someone you love to her, and the concept of doing it for fun with a stranger has always been pretty foreign to her. while she's still trying to wrap her mind around it all, she doesn't want to force moxie into doing anything she doesn't want to do.

[ultimateloserboy]

thinking about duck dhmis having health issues and not even knowing it. first of all, he has diabetes, which you could say is just a joke, but i dont really think so. id say it would be if yellow guy didnt bring it up again a minute later in electricity where it was confirmed. sure hes talking to a different character, but his immediate assumption when someone is acting strange is to assume their blood sugar is low. i might be stretching- but to me it implies hes been in this situation before. charged yellow guy doesnt become smarter out of nowhere, he simply understands his already existing memories better, meaning he wouldve already known what low blood sugar was and how to deal with it before his batteries getting replaced. this implies to me that yellow guy has helped duck with his low blood sugar before, though i dont think him or duck actually understands whats going on. im not a diabetes expert or anything, but i know that low blood sugar is not nice, and you feel much better after grabbing a snack. which is funny, because in the past the creators have really driven it home that duck enjoys sweets and just food in general. in the “Its Nice That” QNA back in like 2016, half of ducks answers were about snacks and foods he liked. he said he finds yogurt exciting, and that his blood type is cream, etc. again, maybe im stretching, but it makes sense for him to enjoy these foods so much, because they’d probably make him feel better even if he doesn’t understand why. he probs thinks he just really fucking likes yogurt but in reality his blood sugar is literal ass.

moving on though, in the death episode he mentions forgetting to drink water, which is the cause of his literal death. dehydration is not a nice feeling, and its canon that the puppets experience pain like we do to an extent, so how long was duck feeling miserable without noticing? when the coffin cuts his finger he doesnt react at all, saying it “doesnt hurt that much” but pain is pain even if its small. he didnt even flinch to his finger being cut off. i dont think its the pain thats small, i think his pain tolerance is just too high for his own good. he probably didnt notice the pain of dehydration, or the pains of low blood pressure, or the pain of his insides being removed. he felt it, but he just didnt register how bad it really was. when he sees yellow guy being tore up in jobs he starts freaking out, obviously understanding that it must hurt, but if he was in the same situation he would be laughing. it makes me kind of sad in a way

there’s three ways i think this can be interpreted:

1: hes so desensitized to his own pain after eternity of being ripped apart that he doesnt even register when hes in pain anymore

2: hes so determined to be big and strong (like the military) that he refuses to acknowledge his pain because its a weakness he needs to get over

or 3: a mixture of both that is so bad it causes him to literally die of his own self-neglect. and even when his body tries to shut down and rest(die), he still refuses even that.

(plus, to add on to my runt-duck post, runts often have life-long health issues if they do live past infancy. i will die on the runt-duck hill. he is just like me.)

[zumurruds]

for the ship bingo : damenik (i just wanna hear you rant about them)🫶🏽

the brokeback mountain couple of the series!!!! the gilgamesh and enkidu of their time!!!! the achilles and patroclus of capri!!!! the alexander and hephaestion of akielos!!!!!

whether you think they’re platonic soulmates or romantic soulmates, they have that undying devotion and soulmatism factor that can’t be denied. their relationship makes me break into a cold sweat in the middle of the night at what they could have become, you could say they are my because….. 🥺🫶

cus fellas is it gay to run after your bff barefoot in the palace of your youth the way madeline miller’s patroclus ran after achilles with utter homosexuality and devotion… is it gay to stand up to and trash damen’s mean brother for not loving him as he should even tho said brother is of higher rank than you and could have you punished… is it gay to join the kingsmeet, knowing it would break both of your hearts to be separated after years of rubbing dicks in the training yard, bc you want to train with the best of the best to be able to protect your beloved better when he becomes king… is the force of your gayness so potent theomedes had to send you all the way to delpha so damen wouldn’t turn his back on producing an heir bc your hairy tits jiggled most pleasingly in a way damen liked when you both wrestled in the mud… is it bombastically gay to run into damens private chambers after his ‘death’ like aishwarya rai in devdas and risk your life just to keep damen’s pin on your person at all times…. did you weep loudly with snot and tears running down your face when you lit the ekthanos and made the long solitary at dawn for him…. did the sight of finding your beloved alive bring you to your KNEES in holy prayer even tho you are not a religious man…. did your concern for damen’s welfare overrule all the training ingrained in your upbringing against touching the king that you lured him into a tent and stripped him to the waist so you could make sure he was okay…. did you try to immediately FIGHT the demon who did that to him bc it was on SIGHT after that 👹 ….. did you follow damen into places you wouldn’t go with a GUN bc you loved that fat ass more than you cared about your own life….. did you constantly throw hands at everyone disrespecting your king bc the caucasity was so unreal…. were you so sprung for damen that his new husband had to send you half way across the country to ios bc he was so threatened by the idea of you stealing his man…. another king separating them to different ends of the country out of homophobia i think!!!!

when damen said the first thing he thought about when returning to akielos was “greeting Nikandros, embracing him, heedless of the armour, like digging in his fingers and feeling in his fist the earth of his home” he literally invented gay poetry!!!! you’re lying if you didn’t puke blood at how hard that line went. and i could go on FOREVER, they are that couple <3

[triluvial]

Imagine being a freman captured by feyd and just as you’re on the cusp of stockholm syndrome he spits on you. To him he’s just degrading you but you see it as an honor he’s giving you his water…

oh I love this. I feel like to fall into this the Reader has to be primed for it.

Like the Fremen seem to live in fairly small groups (aside from the deep south) so if Reader came from a bigger family then their romantic options may be severely limited. Reader, feeling lonely and longing to leave their small settlement just to find romance would be a great start for this AU.

Then when Feyd captures her, she knows he's probably going to be tortured and killed or turned into a slave. She may have read books and heard stories of dark lovers being soft for their one true love but she's not an idiot, she's under no illusions this will happen to her.

But then the first few weeks pass and Reader is unharmed. She's not tortured or raped and doesn't even see the face of any person other than Feyd.

Feyd is likely thinking he'll keep Reader like an exotic pet - the last of her kind once he razes Arrakis to dust - as he torments her with news of Fremen death. (Paul's rebellion is taking way longer ig)

Unintentionally, he's training Reader bit by bit to be totally dependant on him. He brings her food and water when he visits every second day so the relief of hunger and thirst becomes inescapably entwined with Feyd's presence. As he is literally the only other person she sees, he becomes the only thing she can think about, the only thing she ever dreams about.

This is when the spitting scene occurs. It's a declaration of love. Reader's thrilled. She swallows. Feyd begins to spend more and more of his time just thinking about Reader because no one ever reacted that positively to him just behaving however he wanted (this would probably work best if the Harpies weren't allowed to come with him, were killed right after he arrived on Dune or never existed in the first place).

Childish dreams of an Out-Worlder sweeping Reader off her feet and away from her inescapable family and into a life of dramatic romance begin to be mapped onto Feyd's face as Reader spends most of her time alone in the darkness of her cell.

Until I'm thinking Gurney and some Fremen scouts break into the Arrakeen palace for an assassination attempt and while they're there, they free Reader against Paul's orders (Hey, she has a big family at least two of them are on the team). She's ok with leaving until she learns they want to assassinate Feyd. The Harkonnen tactics advanced so much upon his arrival they think they can win if they take him out. Reader knocks them out from behind. This is how Feyd find her. Surrounded by the unconscious bodies of her would-be rescuers.

I couldn't pick an ending here so here's both:

Feyd tests Reader by "accidentally" letting her take one of his swords. She uses it to kill the scouting team to protect him. He proposes with the idea of stringing her along and seeing what else he could make her do for him before locking her up again. However, the horror that his fiancée evokes in the Bene Gesserit makes him so happy he decides to drag it out longer. Then, she tells him about the deep-south holdouts and stops him from relaxing when all the northern Fremen are seemingly dead he has to keep her on his arm a little longer. Then she wins a sparring match against him so he has to keep her around until he can soundly beat her, take everything she can teach him and turn it against her. Before he knows it they've been engaged for a year and there's legitimate wedding planning happening. He still wouldn't call it love but it might be as close as he gets. Reader still loves it when he spits on her.

Feyd gets Reader to fake a break-out and helps her move the unconscious rescuers out a secret escape. When they wake up she claims Feyd found them but she killed him and dragged them all to freedom. She's his spy on the inside and with the confidence of Feyd's supposed assassination Paul and the other Fremen will be overconfident. This would probably culminate in Feyd winning the knife fight against Paul and then saying, "You did perfectly, sweetheart." And Reader bolting like an Olympian into his still bloody arms.

[aloesarchives]

Head empty with no thoughts other than thinking about in my “Toji Lives” AU, Reader/you has only imagined a life with Toji and ONLY Toji. It’s to a point that you never seen a future without him or have one with anyone else that wasn’t him. Because if not, your life wouldn’t be like what it is now…which meant you wouldn’t have Megumi nor Tsumiki if you haven’t met Toji.

Anyway, someone randomly mentions how there’s a possibility that in an alternate universe/timeline you and Toji wouldn’t be in love, married, and have a family. Stabbing the knife in your heart even further by mentioning Toji might have another family with another woman with Megumi as their only child. Furthermore, not only isn’t Toji not your husband in another universe/time but he would have another life without you in it.

The thought of in another reality Toji isn’t with you, has another family which also means Megumi and Tsumiki are not your children…Fuck, it hurts you so much to think about such a concept.

What makes it worse is that reality IS POSSIBLE and CAN HAPPEN(referring to the canon timeline).

So now, you’ve become high-key depressed and heartbroken because you are now overthinking about the idea your little family isn’t yours. The more you imagine that prospect, the more your overthinking thoughts make your heart throb with pain as an icy chill washes over you. Numbing you to your current reality that THEY are your FAMILY in this universe/timeline. But your head was too focused and wrapped up that it’s slowly kills your happiness.

Literally everybody is worried about you because this is the most devastated they’ve seen you at all. Satoru and Suguru hunted down the idiot who thought it was a good idea to even say something or gave that idea to you. Everyone else is trying to cheer you up but you brush it and tell them not to worry, which makes them even more worried about you.

Tsumiki and Megumi were the most concerned because that’s their mama who’s so heartbroken and it hurts them to see you so down in the dumps like that. And knowing their mama, the only other person that could get to you that either of them is their one and only papa, Toji. So the kiddos tell Toji your heartbroken state and how worried they are even after trying to make you feel better.

Toji is literally the last resort hope. He goes and finds you, having a pre-occupied stare and looking extremely out of it. He doesn’t want to startle you so he comes up behind you with a gruff but soft “Hey Doll”. Placing his hands on your shoulder and back so you can face him. Rubbing them in a comforting manner.

“Hey, heard you weren’t feeling yourself today? You think you could tell me what’s got you so down?”

You don’t say anything, but the way your eyes start to water and your bottom lip trembling gave it away. Toji would have gently coaxed you on so he can understand what’s got you like this. Then suddenly, you wrapped your arms around Toji’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug. The man doesn’t questioned it and holds you tightly, knowing you need it because he can tell you weren’t ready to tell what’s wrong yet. For some time, Toji lets you hold him tightly because he knows it brings you comfort and eases your stress.

“Anata…Do you think in another life…We would still be together…?”

The way your voice tetered of uncertainty and softness, and that nickname used you for him… Now he has a general idea of what made you so heartbroken because “Anata” is a nickname only reserved for Toji when it’s only you and him alone and either both of you are vulnerable.

“I don’t know for certain, Hon. I’d hope so everytime…But I do know is in this lifetime, I will always find you and love ya to the end of my days. An’ remember, Tsumiki and Megumi are here with us too. Your family is here with you, (Y/N). We love you, don’t forget that, please…”

And that was enough to break the spell that held your mind captive. You ease up, calming down, pulling away slightly from your dear, loving, handsome husband. Looking at him so fondly and with much love.

Toji SMILES back at you, cupping your face gently with his callous hand. Using his thumb to softly wipe away the stray tear that fell from your pretty eyes. Leaning into his hand, holding it with both your own. You relish in Toji’s strong but gentle hold, his warmth always brought you great solace in ways no one else can.

Everyone sighs in relief, knowing you’re in a better mood and returning back to your regular self. Especially Megumi and Tsumiki, there’s something about seeing you genuinely smile and looking at their dad with such tenderness they know is only reserved for Toji and him alone that makes them smile to themselves and sigh in relief. The two of them walk up to you and Toji to which you opened your arms out to your children. Tsumiki and Megumi will never deny a hug from you so they go in and you hugged them both tightly against you, kissing their foreheads while saying loving affirmations to your children.

Toji smiles at his family before joining in on the hug, wrapping his huge muscular strong arms around you three. Basking in your husband and kids warmth, you didn’t know why you hyper-focused on the ‘what ifs’ of possible realities when this one you were living in, with your husband and kids, is YOUR current reality. So why fuss over the others when you have this one which is the one you wanted.

If there’s a possibility for them to not be your family in other realities, wouldn’t that mean there are possibilities where they’ll be your family too in other realities/timelines/universes too?

Bonus: Toji asks Satoru and Suguru if he can join them in ganging up on the person who did this to you. Man wasn’t letting anything slide if you were put into a distressed and/or heartbroken state.

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Tags w/ links:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Tags w/o links:

@szillx @SleppyAnn @g0th1xac1d @kneelarhmstrung

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I literally wrote this on my phone late at night because it was keeping me wide awake lol. Sorry for the sloppy rushed formatting!

[thefakehedgehogaroundhere]

who here wanna kill a bitch w me

[sneakystorms]

Maybe I should've seen it coming with the weight placed on the concept of "desire" but i really wasn't expecting dungeon meshi to turn into a full on buddhist lecture

[heartbeetz]

Going to look at a couple apartments tomorrow and the next day... the anxiety is setting in

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Hi Jammy! Should we hope for some ficlet chapter today/tomorrow??👀

Yes! 🤗

I have planned only writing today, so I should get things done! 😊

[impossible-rat-babies]

eyrie brings a certain level of “I have two canons” that I don’t really appreciate