#if anything here makes you want to talk to me to hash it out THEN FEEL FREE

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[honeytonedhottie]

starting and managing ur blog⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

so you wanna start a blog? in this post i’ll break down effective ways to start, manage and maintain a blog (from my own experience of course) i hope u find this helpful ✨

TOPIC AND IDEA ; 

to have a blog you need an idea or concept about what your blog will be about. make your blog about either something that you know a lot about/are proficient in.

or blog about something that u are learning about as a way to track ur progress and learn new information. you could blog about something that you love a lot etc etc. 

AESTHETIC ; 

what is your aesthetic? for me it’s hyper feminine and pink and just DIVINE. when u choose and stick to an aesthetic it’ll give ur blog kind of a signature which is important for the rest of this post. 

when u have an aesthetic in mind for ur blog make sure that you have plenty of pins on pinterest that mesh nicely with ur aesthetic so u can find things like headers, dividers, photos and emojis that suit the aesthetic of ur blog. 

RESOURCES ; 

pinterest is my holy grail for resources. there u can find headers and photos to use in ur posts to give ur audience something visually pleasing to look at while they read ur post. 

what ur gonna want to start off ur blog aesthetic and theme is ; 

a header 

a color scheme (for coloring/bolding words. and the colors for ur blog page in general)

an informative bio 

a pfp 

dividers 

START OFF POST IDEAS ; 

if u want to run a well organized blog there are a couple posts that i think are beneficial for u to make. in fact the most important post that i think any blog should have is a MASTERLIST.

master lists are great for a multitude of things. they help ur audience to navigate ur blog easier and see all that you have to offer in one convenient tap of their finger. plus when u make navigating ur blog easy, more people will experience ur content which will mean more interactions with ur post.

not only does it help the audience but it also helps u to know what u did and didn’t post, so that u can plan effectively for the future. it’s also a fun way to see how much u posted. i recommend making a new masterlist every year or when you can’t put any more links onto it 💀. if u want a reference for a good masterlist you can check out mine right here.

CONSISTENCY ; 

consistency is key in anything and everything and blogging is no exception. i recommend not blogging in a competitive nature, rather i think in order to be consistent with something like a blog you should genuinely just do it for funsies/passion and as a way to have ur own authentic creative outlet.

i don’t have a set posting schedule bcuz i don’t want blogging to feel like a chore when in reality it’s just a hobby that happened to gain an audience because people enjoyed it. and because people enjoy what i write, it in return makes me happy and wanna write more.

SIGNATURE ; 

i cannot stress this enough but when u have a platform whether it’s small or big individuality sets you apart! have something that sets u apart like personalized hash-tags, a way that u talk, etc etc. 

personalize hash-tags with things like emojis. also, USE UR HASHTAGS because when someone looks up something like “self improvement” your post will be what they see if u add those hashtags.

furthermore if u personalize those hashtags it sets u apart and gives ur blog a kind of brand and individuality in a way. like a signature at the end of a post.

THINGS TO KEEP TRACK OF ;

what posts you’ve done/want to do

upcoming projects or ideas that u have

how your following/interactions are growing or shrinking

how much $ u get from tips

inbox questions or dms to answer

your plans and goals

your personalized hashtags

i hope this post was helpful to anyone who has been thinking about or wants to create their own blog, i encourage you to do so ✨

[wandasfifthwife]

(2) cheeks turning red ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: mentions of alcohol (neither r or wanda consume it), two brief mentions of toxic parents (r’s mom went to jail), wanda & r flirting lmao

a/n: not proofread, this is fresh outta the oven babes. Idk how I feel about this bc I feel I’m not good with writing fluff like this LMAO

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It was a call from your brother. On the other end of the phone, he was begging you to come over and entertain them at dinner.

“It’s good to see you,” your brother had said earnestly when you had walked up. He wrapped you in a hug, one you sunk into.

“Tyler is at a friend’s place. It’s good for him to get out, he’s been struggling with friends.”

“He’s been doing fine at practice?”

He shuts the door behind you, “I mean at school, he’s been complaining that they’re immature.”

His wife calls from further in the house, appearing from a corner to come and greet you. She’s always been welcoming, but the relationship between you still feels fresh. The table was already set, the dishes laid out on the table.

“How’s Tyler been at practice other than the friends he’s been making?”

“Oh he’s picking it up well,” you slide the chair closest to the window out to sit, “cocky as ever, but he’s doing well.”

“Good. What do you think of the coach?”

An uncomfortable look is shared between him and his wife, it makes you feel small. The look they shared felt usually like they knew something you didn’t, or that they had to walk on eggshells around you.

“She’s great,” you defuse the silence, “We don’t have to talk about any of that, I’m moving on.”

“Sweet, we just care to check in,” she finally steps into the conversation. You could tell your brother wanted to hash it out yet again, saying it’s because he cares but you’ve said the conversations make it worse. When your mind wants to forget about it, the constant back-track doesn’t help.

“Tyler’s coach and I are talking.”

The sentence had him stuttering, shock written on his face, “when? And how?”

His wife has a similar look on her face, but the small smile on her face eases the pressure in your chest.

“The situation’s a bit different from how you two met. A man hit on me, remember what I talked about last week? She scared him off, we introduced ourselves, and started saying hi whenever we saw each other.”

He points a finger at you, “that’s different. Do you like her?”

“She slipped her number in my coat pocket, I’d say we’re both interested.”

“It probably took you a day to realize it was there.”

You attempt to hide your smile but it’s futile, and the two laughs at the sight. He sighs and leans back in his seat, no longer hunching over the table, “I also wanted to ask how your job’s been going? You still with that company?”

“I’m staying with them unless they refuse to give me a raise, the amount they’re giving is barely enough to cover rent.”

He hums, “if you need anything, we’re here.”

You smile as a thank you and divert the conversation away from you by asking about their lives. They’re always eager to, their body language becoming more open and relaxed once they begin to. It could be a result of overthinking, but at times you feel most conversations surrounding you are negative. The one you just had about your nephew’s coach was the first time you collectively connected positively.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

Within a second of closing the door to your apartment, your phone lit up the dark room. It was hurting your eyes, but you had never really cared to check who the recipient was until this moment. It wasn’t formatted properly, the text sent in a rush. The text read, “call me when you can,” just with random spacing and two misspelled words.

You debated waiting in hopes to seem hard to get, but you couldn’t wait any longer without hearing her voice. So you pressed on her contact, pressing your phone to your ear and sliding your shoes off in the foyer.

“Is everything alright,” you began, a small amount of concern bleeding into how you spoke.

“It can be,” she says, the pause between her words almost suffocating, “you deserve a nice dinner, and I will take you to one if you so wish to. But I have a formal event later tonight and need a plus one, I-“

“I’ll go as your plus one.”

“Oh wonderful. Thank you, thank you. I’ll come to your place at 9.”

She ends the call right after and you’re thankful she did. You can feel your heart fall out from your chest with the pitiful ache forming. If it were to be nerves or excitement, neither you nor your mind fully understands the difference.

With the lights now turned on it causes you to squint due to the sudden onset of light. You stumble to find your bedroom to open your window and let fresh air in. The projected event later that night turned your stomach into knots and mind into a blank slate of irrational anxiety. It was sudden and unexpected, but it was welcomed. What wasn’t welcomed was the following emotions, like anxiety.

The sun had settled under the surface, turning your room orange. With the sun lowering it set your alarm off. The tv across from you shut off and you slid off your bed.

Each minute passed while you got ready, and so did an alarm. Rather it was better to have three annoying alarms remind you of how much time you had than to be rushing out late. You had to remind yourself of that when it went off while you were in the shower, scaring you.

The parking lot was empty save for four cars in their assigned spots. Wanda had called earlier with questions on where you lived and if she had to do anything to get through the complex’s gate. Five minutes later here she was driving towards you.

A shaking hand reached towards the car door, opening it. She continued to watch you as you shut the door, you knew based off of feeling her eyes on you. It made your mind blank.

“I want to thank you again,” she admits, looking to you occasionally as she drives towards her friend’s estate. “It was last minute. I forgot about it until I saw the reminder on my phone.”

You smile at her, “you’re fine. What’s the event for?”

“My friend from college is getting married, this is some sort of together party. It doesn’t make sense and that’s just because they’re wealthy.“

“Who’s the wealthy one?”

“In a way both of their families are, but the bride’s family has a stable job set out for her.”

“How’d you meet?”

She stops at a red light, the color highlighting a side of her face when she turns towards you.

“She was in a class of mine. Connected over a terrible professor. I’m still surprised he still teaches there when all he does is read off of a slide show.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “figures.”

When she parks, it’s behind a car brand you know is high on the market. It’s fun to dress nice, but it’s another thing when it feels like you’re playing dress up.

Wanda comes to your door, opening it for you and smiling when you fall forward into her. Your foot had fell between the crack of grass and concrete, twisting it and causing you to lean further into her chest.

“I don’t know anyone here expect for my friend, so you have no reason to fear me walking away. I’m in the same boat as you,” she whispers while shutting the car door behind you. A hand stays on your back as you two walk towards the lit up building.

The only awkward part of the night was when she greeted her friend, causing you to stand beside her as she did so. You pay it no mind though, appreciating the way she introduced you into the conversation. You give an occasional response, smiling politely to pass the time until they bid their goodbyes.

“I feel miserable,” she begins, walking you further into the house, “I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I choose to come.”

She looks relieved, her expression now at ease. Her fingers grasp a glass near her, bringing it toward you for you to take.

“I would like to know you more,” she says while taking one for herself, “did you do another sport besides ice skating?”

“I tried soccer, hated it.”

She leans into the counter, facing sideways as compared to you. Her tone easy when she speaks, “what happened?”

“I didn’t like the competitive nature.”

“Did you competitive ice skating? What’s different?”

“You’re actively going against another team. I enjoy being competitive, I don’t like working with a team against another team.”

She hums, shaking her head in disbelief, “I would be crazy to believe that. I need to play with a team.”

You mock her hum, “of course you would.”

A faux offended expression comes on her face, “what’s that supposed to mean? Thought you said I’m a great coach.”

“You are, you just fit the criteria to enjoy a sport where you ram into others and shove a small puck around.”

“Is that why you said I’m a great coach?”

“You won’t let that go, huh?”

She scoots closer, “not until you tell me why.”

You roll your eyes a second time, laughing and pushing her back. She shrugs, “when a pretty woman compliments your teaching style, it’s important to know why so I can continue.”

You look at her incredulously. Unconsciously all nerves you had before beginning to fade away as the night continues. She’s easy to talk to and tease, a contrast from you’re used to.

“You’re genuine.”

“In what, I need more. In how I shove your nephew around? In what?”

“You’re an absolute dork. I mean in how you treat the boys, you care about them. Like you cultivate relationships with them. Even mix of stern and supportive.”

“Some coach expert you are, who’re you comparing me to.”

You have a choice to opt out, but she has an air of freedom. A feeling that you want to fall into more, so you open up that space.

“My mom.”

“Oh,” she gets closer, making your heart race, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, she’s in jail now. Long gone.”

“Shit wow, okay,” Wanda laughs, an endearing grin on her face, “you’re full of history.”

A couple of drinks and long conversations later, you begin to pull away from the party. The atmosphere was calm on the drive home. With the gentle hum of the AC and Wanda’s presence, it lured you to lean fully into the car door beside you.

“If you’d like to sleep, go ahead. It’s pretty late.”

You glance to the clock, finding the numbers 2:00 glaring back at you. A sigh comes from you, “no.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, her husky voice cracking at your resolve. You watch her side profile, a hand under your head.

“You have a slight accent,” you begin and she cuts you off, apologizing for whatever reason.

“What? I was going to say it’s attractive.”

She huffs, looking a bit shocked, “thank you. It might be because English isn’t my first language.”

“What is it,” you ask tiredly, resisting how your eyes are practicing closing.

“It’s Sokovian. And doll, sleep. I promise I don’t mind.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, the last coming from you being a muffled him before you drifted off. Twenty or thirty minute could’ve passed, but you woke when you felt the car turn at the strange loop getting off the highway. A slight headache begin to appear as you slowly woke up.

“I was about wake you,” she laughs softly, “you seemed to know we’re almost back.”

You groan with a hand in your head, “I regret sleeping, my head hurts.”

“Poor baby, do you have medicine?”

You nod at her question, reaching below to grab at your stuff that had fallen by your feet. The complex’s lights come into view and you’re almost thankful to lay down in your actual bed. What a gift it is to be able to do so.

“Thank you,” you start, “I had a wonderful time. I’m so sorry for just knocking out there at the end.“

“No worries,” she parks the car out front and you can feel the nerves from before spark.

“I would like to see you again,” you say quietly, looking into her eyes, “if that’s okay.”

“Love to. I can get you after practice Tuesday.”

The shyness comes back, everything within you burning at the idea of seeing her again. Your lungs heave in air looking at her, and she knows with the way she begins to smirk weird.

“You’re a goof,” you say finally, moving to climb out of the car. She laughs and waves you off.

Once finally in bed, you weren’t able to sleep with the way you kept replaying the way she was looking at you. It was dangerous, each one pulling you further into her.

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@dorabledewdroop @aru-son @thelittleliars

@sokovianbaby @natsbiggestfan1

@r0manxff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

@emiliaisdead @esposadejoyhuerta

@shinysuitcloud @xxsekhmet

@casquinhaa @scarlettbitchx

[prentissluvr]

sorry won't cut it — sam and dean winchester

pairing : sam and dean winchester x gn!sibling!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort ➖⟢ cw : set in season 8 LOL, sam and dean are kind of/definitely assholes to reader, swearing, arguments, crying, use of kid, kiddo, honey, and sweetheart to refer to reader, only light editing ➖⟢ wc : 4K summary : you meet up with sam to discover that dean is back from purgatory, and both have been keeping secrets from you.

when sam answers your call, it comes as a relief. a surprise, but more than anything, a relief. it’s been two and a half months, almost on the dot, since he’s answered a call. usually it’s just one month. he has a single burner phone just for you, but it’s off half the time, and the other half he never answers.

you’ve grown used to his distance, to an extent. it still stings when your phone rings till voicemail sometimes, but you’ve just been too tired to argue with him, to ask him to comfort you, make him keep hashing through the pain of looking for dean and finding nothing but trouble. 

you want him to have the normalcy, the girl who loves him and makes him feel alright. you want to have faith that he’ll figure out how to factor you into it all eventually, but you still miss him, and you’re still lonely, so you keep calling, never getting angry or upset when he occasionally picks up. you just act like it’s normal, and you can tell he appreciates it, so you keep it up. in return, he asks you over sometimes, tells you each time how much amelia raves about you after you leave, hugs you tight before you go.

it’s been several months since he’s invited you over, and he doesn’t really talk about her anymore. you figure something must have happened, but you never push anything anymore with him.

this call is different. one, because he finally picks up. two, because he tells you to meet up with him, no explanation or normal talk about what you should bring for dinner. three, he asks you to meet at a random address in kansas.

he sighs deep, “just… get here as soon as you can. i’ll send you the location.” then he hangs up and it feels like the hunting life all over again.

⟢

it’s a seven hour drive, and you’re tired out of your mind, high-strung and worn out from leaving right after your shift at a diner full of sleezes who don’t tip enough. even though this whole thing is strange for the new, hunting-free sam, there’s relief coursing through you at the thought of seeing him, hoping he’ll let your tired feet carry you right into his arms. you pull into a driveway of sorts, no obvious entrance to the unremarkable building in front of you, but your years of hunting and meeting up with your brothers at strange places during strange hours after strange calls help you find the door. it's a bunker, one you've never seen before.

you were always a little bit more like sam, disillusioned to the hunter life and the way your father raised you. you weren’t a fighter like him, but you slipped away at eighteen to go to college and found somewhere near stanford so you’d be able to visit sam often. he loved that, always so glad that you got out too. but you were barely gone a year before dean came back to collect you and sam to look for your dad. you came easier than sam, less attached to your new place and always finding yourself missing dean.

that’s what you’d been doing this past year. missing dean, and painfully. so when you knock on the door, calling out, “it’s me, sammy,” you freeze when it opens several beats later.

because the person behind the door isn’t sam. but it is your older brother. just the one who’s been stuck in purgatory for the last year or so, the one you’ve endlessly searched for to no avail.

“dean?” your voice is small as his name slips from your mouth.

his eyes go soft, the way they rarely get, and the slight smile on his lips is half pained, half pure relief to see you after so long. “hey, kid.”

you launch yourself into his arms, and he catches you easy, right there in the doorway, and you have to fend off tears that you know wouldn’t put up so much of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted. but you were raised tough, and winchesters don’t cry all that often, at least not where someone else can see. so you swallow hard and tough it out, letting dean pull away from you and lead you inside. he moves through the house with a sort of ease he’d only have if he felt comfortable and safe there. this raises questions, along with the fact that he's here at all.

you’re speechless, but not for a lack of anything to say. endless questions stream through your mind, each one pushing to be asked, even more desperate to be answered.

but the only thing you can figure out how to say is “hello” to sam when he greets you in the living room. he pulls you into a hug, letting you linger for a moment before you know you have to ask all of the hard questions. something in his face is unreadable to you, which is rare when it comes to your brothers. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a hint of guilt. that rings alarms in your mind, but you brush your nerves aside when dean takes a seat on the couch.

you relax a bit when you sink down next to him, curling into his side a little. it makes you feel a bit childish, but you need it after everything this past year. he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you a little closer. sam sits down across from the two of you and you heave a sigh, wondering where to start.

opening your mouth and forcing words out is like a crack in a dam. everything comes out slow at first, but that lasts mere seconds before the flood.

“how did you… dean, how did you get out? i mean, i tried– i tried everything,” your voice breaks at that word, the weight of it meaning something only you understand. you look at him, brows taught and you’re confused by the surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect you to say such a thing.

“what do you mean, you tried everything?” he asks, voice suddenly gruff and severe. you recoil from his side to get a better look at him. you don’t miss the look he shoots sam. this is already departing from what you expected, which is probably exactly what you should have expected. it’s just that, when dean hugged you back and he was solid and real and alive, when he sat on the couch instead of a chair so you could sit next to him, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stay tucked safe into his side as they told you what happened, as they asked you to stay with them. 

“what do you mean?” you shoot back. “what, did you think i’d just kick back and call it someone else’s problem?”

“that’s what sam did. that’s what sam said you did.” his voice is accusatory and when you whirl to look at sam, utter bewilderment evident on your face, you can see him physically grimace. which means dean’s telling the truth.

“sam did what?” the question sounds like it’s targeted for dean, but you’re staring the younger down.

“listen, i– no, you know what, i’m not going to explain myself on this again. what do you mean you did everything, you said you were going to school?” sam looks irked and defeated all at once.

“that is completely beside the point, sam, you lied to me?” you ask incredulously, “but you’re not going to explain to me why? why you lied to me or why you apparently didn’t look for dean, i mean are you crazy?” dean’s hand on your shoulder prevents you from standing as your voice grows louder.

“listen, kid, sam and i, we’ve already hashed this out, okay? it’s uh– it’s fine, alright?” with the way he says the word “fine”, you know that it still bothers dean, so you can’t understand why he’d say so. “we’ve got things to discuss here,” dean tries to reason with you before sam can respond. he’s no peace maker, but a full blown fight between the two of you could have an ugly ending.

“things to discuss?” you repeat, in disbelief of the audacity. knowing them, that means they need something from you, which begs the question of why sam asked you over in the first place. you don’t even want to think about them having ulterior motives outside ofjust wanting to see you, so you brush it off angrily. “well, i’m glad to hear that you two have hashed it out, but i haven’t yet, so we can discuss whatever that is later.” you shrug off dean’s hand, trying to focus on the things you’re already angry about instead of asking the even bigger question nagging at you now. when the hell did dean get back that those two had time to hash out something that major? you turn your anger back to sam, thinking about what it was like when dean first disappeared. “you told me you looked. you told me you did all that you could, that you tried everything in your power. now dean’s telling me that you did jack shit?”

sam sighs heavily. “yes, okay. listen, i’m sorry i lied to you, alright? but i just wanted you to try and live your life for once. i figured if i told you i did everything i could, that, i don’t know, maybe you’d give up and try to move on? go to school, do something you love, have real friends, maybe find someone?” he throws his hands up in the air, a defeated gesture because he knows you don’t agree, while he still thinks he did the right thing.

you scoff, because, god, he really has no idea. arms crossed and face the kind of calm that says run to anyone on the other end of your anger, you nod in false understanding. “yeah, what good that did,” you say, your tone so sarcastic and dry that sam just clenches his jaw and dean’s face turns from concerned to full-blown worried. he wonders if he should ask what that means, because whatever it does, it’s certainly not “good.” 

but you pick up again after a moment of thick, dripping silence. “you know, sam, you have absolutely no idea how this past year really was for me. i’m not saying it was easy for you, because i know it wasn’t. though now i know you also skipped the trouble of looking for your stuck-in-purgatory-brother and really, actually lived that hunting-free life you wanted.” sam cringes at the venom in your voice. “all i’m saying is that just about nothing has been all, i don’t know, rainbows and butterflies like you think,” your voice is practically scathing, a tone so rare to both of your brothers that neither knows what to say, “and you know what, sam? it’s looking to me like i’d be a lot better off if you’d just decided to tell me the goddamn truth.”

sam says your name, tentative like he’s testing hot waters, “i thought you said things were going well. you said you liked school, that you were making friends there? just explain to me what you mean so we can figure this out.”

“figure it out,” you repeat under your breath, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something too harsh. “sam, things were going well! they were!” now you’re feeling desperate to make him understand, “but that night you told me there was nothing else we could do, nothing else to try and that i should just do my best to move on? i couldn’t, sam, i couldn’t do that. there had to be something more we could do, so i gave up on the things you said you did and i went further. i let you think i was fine, that i was doing what you wanted for me because you always sounded so tired. you always sounded like one more thing on your plate would make the sweet little life you built with a girl and a dog come crashing down, so i made sure you wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

dean’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he does his best to make his interruption gentle. he doesn’t want to upset you more, but you can hear the tension in his voice when he asks, “kiddo? what do you mean by you ‘went further?’”

suddenly you shrink in on yourself, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your eyes shining with fresh tears. “dean–,” your voice breaks before you can even say anything else. his hand is on your back, meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel worse about it all. you know how much dean would hate the lengths you went to to try and get him back. “i can’t–” you shake your head, “i can’t right now, but maybe… maybe if you’d told me the truth, sam, if i’d just started by reading through all of bobby’s books like you said you did, things would have worked out differently.”

“well, maybe if you told me you were going to keep trying, i could have helped you!” sam fires back.

you let out a strangled, frustrated noise as you stand, unable to keep sitting down. “would you? really? because i really don’t think you would’ve! you were so focused on moving on from losing dean that you distanced yourself from me, too! you barely picked up, never called, only talked about dean in three word sentences to tell me a lie about how you tried and failed to find anything to help! maybe if you paid any attention to me, gave any indication that you wanted to help or see me or be a major part of life like i wanted of you, i would have opened up to you!” it makes you even more angry when your voice turns teary, “and for once, i wanted to try to be the one to take care of you two. i kept my secrets, i never let on how fucking lonely i was, just so you wouldn’t worry about me!” a stunned silence falls over you brothers, sam’s guilt beginning to overrun his natural response of anger, and dean making up for that fading anger with his own. your chest heaves with laboured breath as you stare sam down.

dean’s tone is icy as he breaks the silence, “sam, is that really how you treated them while i was gone?” 

sam exhales hard, ignoring dean in favor of looking at you, “i was just doing what i thought was the best for both of us. i didn’t know, okay, i’m sorry.”

“are you kidding me?” you exclaim, voice turning shrill and growing louder by the second, “people got hurt, on my account,” you have to force that part out through gritted teeth, “i got kicked out of school, and i spent three months running from hunters!” both sam and dean want to interrupt at that, but you keep going, your voice quieter now, but harsh and trembling, “but you were doing what you thought was best for both of us? try what was best for you. dean was gone, and i needed you, sammy, i needed you and the second you said you needed to get away, alone, i knew i didn’t have you.”

that shuts him up, has him deflating and his guilt taking over, and you can see it and you hate it. you almost wish he’d get angry instead because that means you can keep shouting at him to try and make him understand. but all you get are his clenched jaw, his sad eyes, and his guilty silence that tell you he knows he fucked up but he can’t figure out a way to make it better since sorry sure as hell won’t cut it.

it’s dean who cuts into the heavy silence again. “sam.” his name hangs in the air, weighed down with unspoken words. “we’ll talk about this later,” you guess is the message. you can feel how angry dean is without even looking at him. you know all he ever asked of sam if he was gone was to take care of you, and now dean knows he didn’t. then his attention is back on you. he says your name, clear and careful. “i’m gonna need you to tell me what you did, okay?”

you wipe at your face angrily as you whirl to face dean. trying to keep the ever present tears at bay, you tap right back into your anger. but it's more tired this time, less convincing with your voice taut from unshed tears begging to be released.

“all that, and that’s what you take away from this? really, dean? you’re gonna need to know what i did? i don’t need you to tell me to know that– that it was wrong and i don’t need you to make me feel any more shitty than i already do right now, okay?”

it’s his turn to wear a look of guilt on his face, but it only sits there for a flash before he keeps going. “kid, that’s not what i’m tryna’ do here, alright? i just wanna understand so i can keep us safe, yeah?” he puts his hands out in a peaceful motion, but something else unresolved floats back up into your focus.

“no. dean, no! because there’s something else here, something both of you have been avoiding this entire time!” there’s a sudden change in the air, like both of them are holding their breath, silently begging you won’t ask the question. “dean, how long have you been back?”

his hesitancy to answer tells you everything. “kid, listen, that’s not imp–”

“don’t you dare say it’s not important! did you hear anything i just said, dean? anything about how shit my life has been since you’ve been gone, how lonely i’ve been?”

“you’re right,” sam relents, forging on before dean can stop him, “he’s been back for three months now. it’s my fault we didn’t tell you. it’s all my fault, and believe me, i am so sorry.” you collapse into a chair with your head in your hands as he continues, “i know that does nothing to fix things, but i am sorry, and i promise i will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, kiddo. i’m all in now, and i did it all so this wouldn’t have to be your life, but you’re here now and we want more than anything to have you around, okay?” 

you lift your head up to stare at him. “three months.” your voice is dangerously quiet. “you two…” your tired mind can’t think of words strong enough, “drive me insane, you know that? dean, you just– you just went along with that and decided, let me guess, that it was best for me? because i was at school, living a normal life and away from the danger of this one? is that it? it’s best for me not to know my brother’s alive? because, you know, that reminds me of something. hm, maybe the time sam hid from us that he was alive for a year because he didn’t have his fucking soul? oh, yeah, it must be that.” you let out a short bark of laughter, but it and your voice are completely devoid of any humor. dean visibly recoils when you mention that. he’s thought of it, and still decided to keep you in the dark. “come on, dean, you know how that feels and you go and do it to me again? really?”

you’ve beat him too. “honey,” he sighs, “i’m sorry. we were wrong to do that to you, okay?”

finally, you think you might be out of things to say, to be hurt about. your voice is quiet and fragile now, and the dam holding back your tears is fractured in a million places, more than ready to break. “i missed you so much. both of you,” you whisper. you meant to make a scathing comment about how “sorry” and “we were wrong” don’t even begin to cover it, but you find that you’re not in complete control of the things coming out of your mouth. you’re just too goddamn tired. dean is crouching in front of you in an instant.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart. so much. i’m so sorry.” he takes it as a good sign that you let him place his hand on your knee. you want to flick it away, maybe shove him away too.

“and i was so, so lonely. i was so scared,” you sob out, wishing you didn’t have to cry when you got angry. “and i’m so mad that you two did this to me.”

“i know, kiddo, i know. i’m sorry.” gently, slowly, he tugs you towards him and into his arms and you slide onto the floor and cry into his chest, shaking and unable to say a thing. you want to tell him this doesn’t make it right, but dean hushes you gently when you try. “shhh, it’s okay, just let it out, alright? i got you. i got you,” he comforts. it’s true that this doesn’t make it right, but it’s almost all you need in that moment.

“sammy,” you choke out, still so angry with him, but wanting him near anyways, knowing that he’s too scared to come close to you after coming face to face with all of the things he did wrong. his hand is on your back a moment later, hesitant at first, then strong and soothing moments later when you blindly grab for the fabric of his flannel to keep him close.

“okay. okay, i’m here. i’m sorry. i’m here now, i promise,” he whispers, silently letting a few of his own guilty tears fall.

utterly exhausted, you stay slumped on the floor in dean's arms when your tears dry up. you can barely keep your eyes open and your breathing is soft and slow. 

“let’s get you to bed,” dean whispers, hoisting you all the way into his arms and up as he stands. “sam’ll grab you a glass of water.” you sigh an imperceptible sigh because you know that dean is still pissed at sam. rightfully so, you’re more than just pissed at both of them, but you’re too tired to care in this moment, and the last thing you want is for them to be angry at each other. that’s your job for when you wake up hours from now. 

dean sets you down in a foreign bed pulling the blankets over you, and sam is back moments later with the promised glass of water and tissues for your face. you curl up and tug at the covers slightly, eager to fall asleep.

“see you in the morning,” you mumble, effectively dismissing them with your voice hoarse from crying. you close your eyes before either of them can say a thing, but your words are also a whisper of the beginning of forgiveness. 

“goodnight, kiddo,” dean says, his voice full of a familiar affection that he only uses for his little siblings as he presses a kiss to your hairline, before disappearing out the door.

you drowsily register the sound of sam setting the glass of water on the night stand by your head. “i’m right across the hallway if you need anything.” a moment, then, “goodnight,” and a gentle hand on the side of your head before a kiss to your temple.

you fall asleep coming up with a list of petty ways you’ll have them make things up to you. neither sam nor dean will be pleased to hear that you’re calling shotgun in the impala for the next three months, minimum. sam for obvious reasons, and dean because he’ll know that means you’ll be taking your job as youngest sibling to annoy the living hell out of him very seriously.

[slut4fangs]

needy

no thoughts besides steve harrington wearing those big 80s glasses

warnings: 18+, smutty smut, rimming (both ways), lots of ass play, steve and reader are both switches, breeding, talk of babytrapping, steve is needy and so is reader, not edited or spellchecked lol

i’m going to be 100% real with you guys, this one is nasty because i’m inconsolably horny and lovesick and you’ll probably end up getting a kink you didn’t know you had through this blurb/fic. you’re welcome xoxo love you have safe sex and don’t fuck or date anyone who doesn’t live up to the steve harrington/eddie munson boyfriend standards

“what’re you lookin at,” steve has a pen in his mouth, concentrating on the crossword laid out on the table in front of him. the two of you had been drinking coffee late into the afternoon. lazy saturdays were quickly becoming your favorite activity with him, whether it be filling out the crosswords, you reading a novel, watching cartoons. quality time and simple days like this one was more fulfilling than date nights, date nights were on fridays, the next day you always woke up in his apartment excited to make each other breakfast. steve liked strong coffee, which you’ve gotten used to and now have a taste for. but the glasses, you never got used to those, something about seeing stevie in glasses had you feeling feral and ready to jump his bones. like wild hysterical cuteness aggression had invaded your thoughts, you had to fight off the urge to rock his world every time you saw him wear them on your lazy days.

“nothin’, ” you turn your eyes back to your current novel, rereading the page you had already finished because you were so distracted you forgot what happened on said page.

a small smile played on his mouth, a knowing smile, he was more than aware of the effect the glasses had on you. the man was in gray sweatpants and shirtless for christ’s sake he knew he was torturing you. “come on, i know something’s on that mind of yours. what is it?” steve put his clicky pen behind his ear and gave you this cute quizzical look.

“you,” you pointed at him accusingly.

“be careful who you’re pointing fingers at, miss. what did i ever do to you,” steve feigned innocence, he’d been trying to get you revved up since he’d woken you up with the smell of hash browns wafting through the apartment. he knew food and coffee were sure fire ways to get your grouchy butt up before 10 am. when you’d stumbled out of bed with a blanket wrapped around your head, shielding yourself from the dreaded sunlight that flitted through all of the open blinds. steve was a natural early riser, but you? yeah, not so much. steve was holding a spatula in one hand and a pan in the other, “breakfast is served, sleepyhead,” he looked so tan and cute you had to hold yourself back from every dirty thought that filtered through your head.

“whatever, you’ve been slutting yourself around the house all morning. who do you think you are??”

steve chuckled at how silly you sounded when you were frustrated, “god, you’re adorable when you’re mad come here.”

you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a defiant action on your part. you wanted to get under his skin as much as he got under yours, he’s not the only one who can tease.

“ok fine, be like that,” steve stormed over to the counter, refilling his mug for the third time today with a slight pout on his pretty face.

payback time

you get up and follow him until your behind him locking your hands around his lower stomach and pulling him towards you. “be like what exactly, stevie?” you kissed his back and rested your head there and hummed, “i’m not doing anything wrong, am i,” you let your hands roam to the front of his sweats and find he’s already hard for you. he lets out a faint gasp when you palm him through the soft material.

“i- i what are you talking about,” steve stuttered and blushed, thankful that you couldn’t chastise him for the face he was making.

“you forgot what you said to me already, that figures, your brain is mush when i touch you, huh? aw you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you use your tip toes to get a glance at steve’s flushed face. he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle in return.

steve let’s put a strangled breath, “p-please touch me, baby i’ll die if you don’t.”

“you’re so dramatic, i am touching you,” you ran your hands over his hips and grazed his cock lightly with your fingers over his sweats.

“no, baby, here, i need you here,” steve grabbed your hand and shoved them into his boxers. “i need you, fuck, i need you bad,” steve whimpered and humped your hand shamelessly and with need.

“now was that so hard to ask for, you didn’t have to tease me all morning to get me to touch you. you have to use your words, stevie.”

“i like teasing you, m’ sorry,” steve gripped the counter while you pumped his cock in your soft hand.

“you’re such a bad boy, humping my hand like you didn’t tease me on purpose all morning,” you release your grip on him and tell him to lay down for you on the bed. steve wastes no time and rushes to your shared bedroom. laying on his back, all ready for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

you lie on top of him and kiss him sloppily, his favorite. you’re both all tongues and moans, he grabs your ass with want, “take these off, wanna feel you,” steve says, he sounds so needy and desperate you decide he’s earned it. once you flung your panties to the side steve’s spitting on his fingers and toying with you.

“you’re being so good i guess you deserve this,” you moan into his mouth and kiss down his neck.

“mm now this,” steve tugs on your pajama shirt, “please?”

“since you’re being so polite,” you remove your shirt and squeal a little when steve pulls you close and smothers himself with your tits, licking and sucking and not wanting to let you go. “wow you really needed this, didn’t you?” steve nods his head and squishes your ass to his crotch. steve pushes his pants and boxers past his ass in desperation, “gotta feel you,” he groans when you grind down on him.

“feel better, stevie?”

“mm, yeah but it’s not enough,” steve flips you over so you’re under him now, undressing for you completely and sparing no time with diving between your legs. “you know what i want,” steve slaps your ass and flips you onto your stomach. a sort of muffled moan slips off your tongue when his mouth licks through your folds and to your asshole.

“you’re so dirty, baby,” your hands are gripping the sides of the pillow for dear life.

steve let’s out a dark chuckle at this, “but you love me for it, don’t you? who else could do this to you?”

“mm..only you,” you answer by holding the back of his head to you, he’s so dirty, moaning while rimming you.

“tight little thing, aren’t you,” he groans pinching your clit and continuing his assault on your poor ass that he’s gripping and smacking relentlessly.

you run your hands through his hair and pull on it, to which he moans, “dirty boy, aren’t you?”

“yeah baby, whatever you want me to be,” steve leaves a deep hickey on your ass cheek and bites down a little before letting up to give you a break.

“fuck me,” you beg him and you’re completely aware of how crazy it makes him, whining because you need him so bad.

“don’t have to tell me twice, look who’s the needy one now, huh?” steve has your chin tilted up at him, pushing two fingers in and out of you , “you want it bad? show me how bad you really want it.” you do the first thing that comes to mind, rubbing his cock with your foot. “oh my god, fuck,” steve moans, “fine, but taste yourself first,” he lets you suck the taste of yourself off of his fingers.

“yum,” you lay back on your elbows to slightly prop yourself up. steve’s crushing his body weight on top of you and you fall back onto the covers with his hands all over you. “you’re groping me, stevie.”

“you like it,” he spits on your pussy before slamming himself into your cunt. there’s not an inch of space when the two of you are like this, you’re grabbing his ass and he’s crushing you with his weight, tongues and lips, kisses and scratches. steve wants more though, you can feel the question coming before he asks it, he always does this. “please,” it’s said as a question and you know what he means, you smirk knowing he needs you just as bad as you need him. when you don’t say anything he says please again but it’s more of a whine while he grabs your hand and places it on his ass.

you nod and steve’s climbing over you to reach into the bedside table for lube, “ok, i’m ready,” and he fuck himself back into you. he’s fully laid out on top of you with his whole weight, grinding himself into you and holding your face while you kiss sloppily. you reach for his ass again, pushing him down onto you more and finding his hole, pushing a middle finger in and curling it slightly. steve whimpers, “more,” you add your pointer finger and ask him sweetly if that feels better and suddenly he’s a fucking mess on top of you. pathetically humping and grinding himself into you while you fingered his tight hole.

steve’s sucks on your neck, surely leaving a hickey in his wake and then licking over the spot, “are you a vampire, baby?”

steve’s so fucked out and sweaty he can barely concentrate on the words you’re saying so he just smiles and crashes his lips to yours with a feverish need. he’s fucking you into the mattress with reckless abandon, and when every part of you is soaked with his sweat he finally comes with a string of curses and kisses littered on your tits. “mm,” steve pulls out of you and stares at his come inside of you, pushing it back in with his fingers. “bout’ time i breed this pussy,”

you half gasp and half laugh at this, the condom completely skipped your mind. “stevie! why didn’t you remind me?”

“why remind you when i can babytrap you?” steve smirks and kisses your lips softly.

“oh my god! you can’t say that,” something about that gave you butterflies even though you know it shouldn’t.

“but my come looks so pretty in you,” steve laughs and you know he’s not joking but you laugh with him anyways.

“you’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“whatever you say, baby,” and gives you a wink that could make you forget just about anything.

later that night steve is tossing and turning and it’s obvious he’s not going to stop until you do something about it.

“knock it off, i’m tryin to sleep here,” you mutter into the pillow.

steve flips over so he’s facing you, wordlessly pulling you towards him so you’re chest to chest, his thigh wedged between your legs.

“what do you want stevie,” you say running your fingers through his fluffy hair.

“use me,” he answers and rocks your hips for you on his thigh. you grind yourself down on him and kiss his pouty lips. you do this for a little while until you’ve found a rhythm and then turn him over on his back. you sink yourself down on his hard cock and wonder if he’s been hard this whole time he’s been tossing and turning, you lazily grind on him until he comes in you for the second time tonight. you roll over next to him where he holds you and kisses your shoulder, “if i get hard again just put me outside, i’m sorry honey you just drive me crazy.”

if only he knew how crazy you were for him.

[aurumacadicus]

Send a number? Ok! How about 18? Or 35 if that one has been asked already

Steve stared down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the wedding ring around his finger. Tony was sat across the table from him, face impassive. The counselor they were seeing had stepped out for a moment, apparently a 'couple in crisis' on the phone that she needed to calm immediately. Steve wished she would come back. Wished he and Tony were in crisis. Anything other than this, betraying and feeling betrayed with a table between them and nothing to stay.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Tony asked, voice quiet, eyes dropping to the surface of the table.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, grinding his teeth. "We shouldn't talk without the counselor here."

"You let me talk about our life together that included kids for weeks and just now you dropped that you don't like children?" Tony hissed, eyes darting back up to him, full of fire and brimstone.

"It's for the act," Steve tried, but even as he said it, he knew that Tony didn't believe it. He didn't believe it, either.

"I thought I'd be a good dad," Tony said, and he sounded so defeated, it broke Steve's heart.

He couldn't look at him anymore. He looked back down at the ring on his finger instead and immediately regretted it. It just made him feel worse. "You will be a good dad, Tony."

"So, what, you'll choke down your distaste for children for me?" Tony asked, and there was a hint of steel in his voice now. "I've lived with that as the kid, Steve. It wasn't healthy for anyone."

Steve jerked his head up, tears filling his eyes. "Tony, I didn't say I don't like children. I said I'm scared. And if you were as smart as you always say you are, you'd be scared too." Tony opened his mouth, offended, but Steve plowed over him, biting out, "I broke three doorknobs this week. Doorknobs. I keep imagining a baby in my hands--" He spread his hands on the table, palms up, and was ashamed to find them shaking. "--and babies are so delicate, Tony, I. What if. What if I--"

Tony reached out to cover his hands with his own. "You never hurt me," he told him gently.

"I don't want to even accidentally hurt a baby, Tony," Steve whispered.

The hurt had faded from Tony's face. Resignation didn't look any better on him. "Who would adopt to us anyway?" he asked, and the humor he'd tried to inject into his tone didn't work. "We're not even here in good faith. How could we make sure they were never in danger?"

"Thor said Amora wouldn't be able to manipulate us like she had the other couples," Steve reminded him half-heartedly. "We wouldn't bring them on missions."

"Maybe I can just be a really good uncle," Tony sighed, as if there was nothing to argue about anymore, drawing his hands back into his lap.

This was why he hadn't wanted to tell Tony, Steve thought, watching him carefully tuck the idea of children into a little box and hide it away as if he didn't still desperately want it. Tony was too accommodating. He was already making up reasons he couldn't have a child so Steve couldn't take any of the blame for it.

Steve picked up the table and threw it at the counselor when she tried to come back in, and Amora caught it with a sparking-green hand. This wasn't a conversation he was going to have in front of an enemy, and throwing punches at her would help him work out all his jittery nerves. He wanted the calm after battle to be able to get his thoughts in order and really hash this out.

Even if they decided they didn't want kids after, it was going to be a mutual decision, not Tony simply taking it off the table and believing he was wrong for wanting them.

[sophieinwonderland]

(Might as well get this reply to a syscourse post about me out of my drafts too.)

You hit the nail on the head when you said "if it's not fun" that you don't see the point, even if it also has to do with what you believe you're doing to help. You're here to have fun firstly, and if the work of eradicating bigotry isn't fun, you're not all that interested.

I've been here for years having the same discussions, trying to help people when I can and do my best to help grow the community and counter misinformation where I see it.

And there are a lot of days when it can feel exhausting.

I'm one person. And I'm arguably not even an entire one of those. I don't front nearly as much as my host, and most of the time I get ends up dedicated to this.

So yes, I do want some of the time I spend on this blog to be on topics I enjoy.

And nitpicking this just feels gross and manipulative.

I don't particularly care about the anti-psych conversation. I think we all agree there are significant flaws in the psych system. It just seems to me that your plan to fix those flaws would be destroying what's there and rebuilding it completely, where I would prefer the Ship of Theseus approach of replacing it bit by bit.

I don't generally use spoon theory much, but I don't know a better way to put it than saying I don't have the spoons to hash this out. Or at least, it's not somewhere I think would be beneficial to dedicate them towards. 🤷‍♀️

The heart of deradicalization is compassion. To disentangle bigotry from big, messy emotions, you have to approach it from an emotional standpoint.

Absolutely! This is 100% true! If you want to deradicalize, this is the best approach.

When it works, anyway. Thing is, I tried this approach early on. Spent a couple months talking to an anti-endo. I honestly thought we were on good terms and that I was making progress. We had been exchanging questions about our own experiences with plurality.

Then when I was banned, they turned around and cheered along with most of the anti-community.

Even then, I wasn't going to completely give up on compassion. I tried more. But the thing about notoriety, whether deserved or not, is that it immediately poisons any attempt at genuine conversation. By this point, I had already gotten a rather undeserved reputation among anti-endos, and if I tried communicating publicly with one, it wouldn't be long before they got an anon or reblog telling them how bad I supposedly was.

And while I feel my reputation was undeserved at the time, I realized that if I would never be able to convince them, I might as well play into my role as the boogeyman anti-endos want me to be.

No, calling anti-endos worse than parasites and an evil hate group is probably not going to deradicalize them. But they've already been fed so many lies about me personally and are primed to disregard anything I say anyway. Compassion from me won't work.

You know what I think this tactic does do, though? I think it shifts the middle ground for people who can't make a decision. Many people have a natural attraction to the center. It's a logical fallacy, but this too is rooted in emotions.

If the spectrum is "endos are scientifically impossible and are hurting trauma survivors and you're ableist for supporting them," and just "endogenic systems are actually real and valid," what do you think "neutral" means in such an environment? Because to me, it seems like centrism lands in favor of the anti-endo when these are the extremes presented to neutrals.

But amp up pro-endo rhetoric to match that of anti-endos, replying with "anti-endos are an evil anti-science hate group bent on hurting a marginalized community for existing," and now the center alignment shifts a bit more in the pro-endo direction.

And to be clear, this isn't far off from how I've always felt. The only things that's changed was a willingness to say it out loud. But I don't actually need to convince everyone this is true. I just need to shift what appears to be the moderate position to something that would actually be more moderate and advantageous to us.

...

And that brings me to one final gambit I'm making.

That I'm am going to lose people with these idea. That there will be some pro-endos who will be pushed away from this blog by me labeling anti-endos as a hate group or by my tactics in the way I respond to them.

These pro-endos will shift more towards moderate stances.

And that, IMO, can be useful too. Because it positions them to do what I can't, where they'll appear more approachable and "reasonable" to anti-endos. That allows these systems to do what I can't and be able to connect with people on the other side.

There is a reason why I will often turn a blind eye to pro-endos who are saying horrible things about me, personally, and just let them carry on. (As long as they aren't attacking other members of the community.) It's because, whether they are with me or against me, as long as they're pro-endo, they're still useful in spreading our message.

And I'll admit, this might be a dangerous play. Push people too far, and they might go straight to the anti-endo side.

But... I don't see that as too much of a risk... despite playing into the boogeyman persona anti-endos gave me, I have lines I don't cross. I'm not sending threats. I'm not saying people deserve to die. I'm not going on to positivity posts to start fights like Hyaena-Bites did back in the day. And if I see pro-endos crossing these lines, I do my best to rein them in or call them out.

I've intentionally established myself as an extremist in my views and rhetoric, certainly. But not in my actions.

Finally, for all that you position yourself as an expert in psychology, ironically, you yourself are acting in a way that serves to further radicalize anti-endos. Rather than learning and engaging with genuine, known, deradicalization tactics, you are the perfect "enemy" for the genuinely malicious anti-endos to use to convince the ones indoctrinated into thinking they're doing good that pro endos are dangerous.

To be clear, I've never positioned myself as an expert in psychology. I'm a girl with a blog who did a couple free psychology courses and has read a few papers in a very specialized area of interest.

But I think this line of reasoning is silly. Anti-endos are always going to be able to find targets to vilify and make into an enemy.

I just figure that if their enemy is inevitably going to be someone, it might as well be me. I think I'm better able to take harassment than many others in this community.

Putting a giant bullseye on my chest isn't an accident. It's an intentional decision.

But also... am I really? Am I really the "perfect enemy" to convince anti-endos that the endogenic community is dangerous?

Because guess what? There are a lot of pro-endos out there who take things too far. There was the doxxing incident a couple years ago. There are people who send death threats. There are people who send gore. There are genuinely abusive people who have been in various endogenic communities. That's not a problem with the community. It's just a fact that every large community is going to have bad people in it.

And then there's me who... is not always totally polite? Comes off a bit strong? Calls anti-endos a hate group? Calls them evil?

Do you really think this actually compares to the worst things in the community?

Does this really seem "dangerous" to you by comparison?

[mango-bango-bby]

Hello! It’s me again! I was wondering if you could please write my request? Just like a Dom/Sub dynamic between Sakuna and the reader where Sakuna is seated on his throne hashing out commands to his underlings and his submissive darling is sitting at the base of his throne. He’s told her not to talk because he doesn’t want anyone else to pay attention to her but she desperately wants to sit in his lap! So she’s being as quiet as possible and just looking up at him like this 🥺 and when he finally realizes her looking at him he stops his commands, picks her up, and places her in his lap.

She’s a good girl after all, and good darlings should always be rewarded. Maybe he even praises her for how obedient she is and how he loves her so much.

♡ Queen of Curses ♡

(A/N: I love the idea of Sukuna with a sweet and calm darling 😭😭😭 I hope you like this, I tried but I’m not super happy with how it came out but it’s fine!!)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, dom/sub dynamic but no NSFW, just fluffy fluff

Summary: You want to sit on Sukuna’s lap (Yandere!Sukuna x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Most people weren’t aware of the Queen of Curses. It wasn’t exactly that you were a secret, it was just that you didn’t leave often. The only way people would ever even get a glimpse of you was if they came face to face with Sukuna or if they were somehow able to get a glimpse of you while you were in the garden. The ones who saw you were often surprised how different you seemed from your partner.

Sukuna was the King of Curses. He was merciless, strong, seemingly unfeeling. And yet you would sit near Sukuna, looking at him with kind eyes and offering him a small smile. It was obvious Sukuna absolutely adored you, every one of his servants noticed the way his gaze softened or how he always had all of his arms wrapped around you every morning.

You sit next to Sukuna’s throne, sitting on the floor as you insisted you didn’t want your own throne. You preferred to be near him, you wanted to sit in his lap. However he feared he would be seen as weak if he ever was to show you how much he truly loved you in front of others.

You look up at him, noticing his eyes flitting down to you then back to the servant he was ordering to do something. Truly, you weren’t listening, you were to busy looking at him.

You never thought you could find yourself falling for him, especially after he practically forced you to be his queen. However you did. You knew Sukuna was quite protective, getting upset if you even looked at someone else. But you never really, did you both only really looked at each other.

“Stop making that face” Sukuna says once the servant leaves the room. You only look up at him, tilting your head slightly. You don’t say only thing, only making sure to put the face on that makes you get everything you want. As much as he denies it, he would honestly do anything you asked for.

“Fine. Get up here” Sukuna mumbles, leaning down and easily picking you up into his arms to set you in his lap. He stays silent for a moment, bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss your skin. “You’re good for me. You’re so perfect” he mumbles so quietly you can barely hear, but you’re his words could make you weak in the knees.

You only smile at him, gently chuckling. You lean forward to him, Sukuna giving you the kiss you were clearly asking for. The first time you and Sukuna kissed, so long ago, he was confused. But he ever since then, it seemed you two kissed every second of every day.

You may be the Queen of Curses but that didn’t mean you were what people expected.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ Thank you for reading, darling!!

[waters-and-the-wilde]

so the thing I love about that bit in Shadows on the Ship. the fact that Jet clocks their couples' therapy as 'the poetry you write for each other' totally makes sense considering. juno 'broody monologues' steel, and peter 'i am most comfortable expressing myself by being dramatic’ ransom glass ‘my Wound still Throbs when’t Rains you Brute‘ nureyev dipping into some rhythmic if not straight up iambic cadence when he's Doing A Bit

RELATEDLY. i think they're talking about their feelings significantly more than they're having sex. are they doing it effectively? dEBAtabLE but they are trynig. (nothing particularly explicit here this is mostly cut for length but that's the general theme of it)

the fact that Juno gets flustered and Nureyev is like 'lol damn right' whenever the their relationship comes up suggests (to me! because i think it would be funny!) that everyone else thinks they're going at it every chance they get when it's really more like 50 percent cuddling and naps and 40 percent making stupid jokes and heckling each other's poor breakfast decisions and getting distracted by talking about their special interests and whatever else passes for their couple's therapy/poetry sessions and they're only going at it in the remaining 10 percent that they get the time and energy and privacy for it

so post Cyberbots when they've got the ship back up and Juno's like 'uh hey. so the big guy recently said something about how we've been 'inconsiderate neighbors' and he wants us to keep it down', Nureyev is. genuinely baffled??

because first of all Nureyev does actually possess at least one (1) situational awareness, he also values his own privacy and is overall fairly conflict avoidant with their family, and he recognizes that Juno is very flustered by the whole 'having housemates who tease him about his boyfriend' thing. so Nureyev might not feel shy about their relationship but he's perfectly capable of being discreet, with the result being that he at least has thought this through

and then Juno's like 'he said something about poetry. and I'm uh pretty sure he meant the. um. you know. talkingaboutfeelingsstuff'

'ohhhh well that makes more sense. oh and we did have that one conversation before the Blade job that went until three in the morning. you'd had an awful lot of coffee that day.'

'yeah and you got really excited about Venusian opera traditions'

'it's not my fault the president of Venus is apparently a walking pastiche. oh well i'm glad jet said something. we'll get him some of that loose-leaf tea for his stash as an apology. and keep a closer eye on quiet hours shall we'

'UGH fine i GUESS'

- the thing is when they're not an item, juno's not exactly getting flustered about his sex life considering he's touchy about fuckety everything else. mick and sasha have no qualms about heckling him about his taste in guys and he doesn't get pissy about it. alessandra punches him for trying to pull a humphrey bogart and he's like 'not my usual thing but hey', he and valles vicky wake up in the same bed and make icky faces at each other and move on, ramses is like 'did i say your apartment' and juno's like 'ughh it's too early for your bullshit'

- he gets flustered about Nureyev bc he has actual feelings about nureyev

- in embrace of ice he does say they spent a lot of that year being busy and tired and traumatized and in their heads a lot after rebuilding from that extremely fraught reunion, but those comments in Shadows did indicate that they were putting the work in and i think it left plenty of room for 'hashing out their communication styles and figuring out How They Work in the present' while still acknowledging that they hadn't really worked their way up to talking about their pasts

- and it just seems like every time someone alludes to their sex life, the incident in question is both more innocuous and considerably more private, and if anything Juno getting Weird and Pitchy over an innuendo would make a really convenient smokescreen to hide something he actually Feels Weird About

'you two are going to be very busy tonight' [what NO we do Not Need This Right Now oh my god Buddy he's upset with me leave him alone] *gets defensive, coffee everywhere* meanwhile Nureyev's like *be cool act smug yes Captain very droll*

'we already delayed for your private celebration' [jeez we only talked! and there was crying involved! and then we were tired and fell asleep!] *gets defensive* meanwhile Nureyev's like *be cool act smug we were definitely doing what you think we were doing and not crying at all*

'this is true i have heard it many times' [like hell you have? we haven't even been at it that much? and i'm pretty sure he only makes a move when he knows you're in the garage and going to be there for a while?] 'okay NOT what I MEANT' okay honey Jet doesn't even do innuendo (although he absolutely would mess with juno by setting him up for thinking it is one while still intending the straightforward meaning)

- but otherwise the complaints/comments they get about their pda are about being mushy and kissy but in a 'urgh they're mushy and kissy' not 'send them to horny jail' way

- further headcanons not necessarily bothering with citations in the text:

- the carte blanche has a rule about private activities in private spaces. juno and nureyev have never actually broken that rule. buddy and vespa definitely have.

- i'm pretty here for some flavor of demi/grey-ace nureyev. his attraction to Juno hinging inherently on feelings of trust. catching feelings right off the fucking bat because those prerequisites for attraction were revealed and fulfilled really fast. being really really into Juno but liking sex as an expression of that intimacy and a way of showing how he cares for him, no more or less than being mushy and kissy or giving him little enrichment puzzles to get out of bed and spend time with their family

- he's not above illicit smooch cruises for thrills and giggles but given a preference doesn’t really go in for actually getting off in places that aren’t beds in rooms with locking doors

- also they made out in the garage one (1) time and then jet showed up and stealth-checked them, startled juno into headbutting nureyev in the chin and giving him a split lip. which nureyev thought was funny and took completely in stride but juno felt bad about it and reminded him every time nureyev tried to egg him into smooching in places they shouldn’t.

- and eventually he pulled the ‘what if we get carried away and I say your real name in a part of the ship where somebody could overhear it’ card and nureyev went ‘alright point taken’ (and he does think it's sweet that juno's trying to look after him like that)

- i don't think juno inherently has hang-ups about being caught in flagrante but somebody and i cannot for the life of me remember whomst now recently made a post to the effect of 'if rita found out he was kissing boys she would scream and he already has a headache' and you know what. yeah i think that about sums it up

- but never mind finding out Nureyev's name because Juno yelled it in bed, it's a goddamn miracle that Jet didn't overhear it on any of the numerous occasions that Juno yelled it in frustration because Nureyev was winding him up during their couples' therapy

- anyway tune in next time for 'also i think Buddy and Vespa are having significantly more sex than everybody else is aware of and you know what good for them'

[seenthisepisode]

hi! I saw your post about the why episode title change why 11 scenes cut why lamp etc etc and I know some of it but not all, and I was hoping you could elaborate on spngate— if it’s not too much trouble— or point me in a direction where I can join you in the spn gate?

I feel ashamed for HOW LONG i let this ask just rot in my askbox (it's from january, apparently, now it's april. i thought maybe two weeks passed but NO. it was months. ANON I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY. I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART) but now with the power of this url and the wine i am currently sipping, let me give you the best, most thought-out answer that i possibly can.

I don't know how long you've been following/watching spn, so I won't get into real deep iceberg theories that go back to season 8 and jeremy carver, for the purpose of this essay answer I'll just stick to the year anno domini 2020, and will try to do my best to tell you what happened.

Okay, maybe 2019. So, in june 2019, when the first scripts and drafts for s15 are presented, these things happen: 1. apparently, according to Berens, the confession scene is the first thing that was written for season 15. 2. Jensen Ackles is sat down and asked if he would be okay with this. (question is asked: why would they ask jensen if all he does in this scene is look at cas, he doesn't say anything, he does not confess, it changes nothing about his character, etc.; if you put the real tjlc tinfoil hat on you'd ask hey , maybe they asked him if precisely that is okay, if he is okay with the fact dean is practically silenced here but that's Deep) 3. Jensen apparently is okay with that, because it happens.

also this thing happens around the same time: 1. they write the ending for the brothers, and no matter what version of the finale we're talking about, Dean dies 2. Jensen Ackles is Not Okay with this. he calls Kripke who then, in a call and/or email assures him it's a good ending (Jensen says that) and also very quickly after that Jensen is announced to play Soldier Boy in Kripke's The Boys. make of that what you want

They film, blah blah, march 2020, covid happens, they stop production right after they film the confession. Last episode to air is 15x13, last episode they film is 15x18, they almost have a plane crush when flying to vegas con, and then, a loooong break until august 2020. Now, from what we know, there were two versions of the finale - the pre-covid finale they were supposed to film if the filming schedule wasn't interrupted, and the finale that happened.

What was supposed to be in the Original Finale/Pre-Covid Finale, we still don't know exactly, but from what the cast said, there was supposed to be a big cast reunion, Harvelle's Roadhouse in Heaven, Kansas Band (why are they dead?) playing there after Dean gets there and so on.

Anyway. July 2020. Misha does a livestream with Michael Sheen (the SuperGood campaign) where he says he is going back to filming the last two episodes in a few weeks. he said it LIVE. it's on youtube. people analyze the background from Misha's livestreams and photos and conclude he is in Vacouver, where spn is filmed. He also says that he is going back filming in a few interviews. Also here.

August 2020. They go back to filming in august 2020 to film 15x19 and 15x20.

August 20th, 2020, Misha's birthday.

I wasn't on set TODAY. so casual. of all days i wasn't there today.

August 24th, 2020, day 6/8 of filming 15x19, Angel with a Shotgun is hash tag Song of The Day while filming scenes of 15x19 (scene 28, 31).

September 4th, 2020. ALL THEY FILM, for the whole DAY, is one scene. They usually film a few. They film one. Song of the day? The Night We Met.

Somewhere before the episodes starts to air again, Dabb says only 30% of the audience will like the finale. Anyway, everyone concludes, Misha is filming, destiel is more or less going canon, but everyone including bibros is sure Misha is filming and will be there for the finale.

Originally, "Despair" was called "The Truth".

Finale airs.

It feels shorter (apparently it's not) but it does have an additional ad break. For Walker. But it feels shorter because of the "carry on my wayward son" cover montage that lasts too long and later it's discovered thanks to scripts that dropped that there are ELEVEN scenes that were filmed,, but didn't make it to the episode. The script that drops is also very telling, where scenes are just [OMMITTED]. It was explained that they wanted to have actor there but they didn't want actors to quarantine for two weeks to film one or two scenes BUT then that's exactly what they did with Jim Beaver lmao.

So yeah. I also remember Misha at a con (DarkLight?) where, after asked about the original ending, he answers that the original ending was something that would be better explored in fanfiction anyway. Theory rises he filmed and was cut off the episode without his or Jensen's knowledge because Misha sat down his kids to watch the spn finale (which was the first episode they were supposed to watch ever, why would he do that if he's not there?) and then, CW SPN twitter posts a goodbye video that has everyone from the cast and their mother BUT MISHA AND JENSEN ARE NOT THERE. Jensens sexy silence starts.

THEN THE WILDEST THING HAPPENS.

November 25th, the Spanish Dub. 15x18 drops in Brazil and Dean says "and i you" to Cas, after he confesses. No "don't do this cas" but "and i you". Tumblr stops working for two hours, people on discords are screaming, no one knows whats happening, someone claims Jensen was called in September 2020 to record some adlibs? To record the muffled sobs Dean does while on the floor. Theory is supported by the fact that in the Bazil version? When Dean sits on the floor? The sound that plays are birds. Chirping birds. Sounds don't match, what was Dean saying while crying on the floor, question arises.

Everyone decides there was a Rogue Translator who managed to hide from The CW Sniper (who is the reason actors just dont tell us everything) and translated some kind of Original Script. Voice Actors are invited to a podcast where they debunk this saying that it was added because the translator felt this was the right response or something like that. Anyway they debunk the fact that there existed, at any time, a version of a script, that maybe was send to them, where Dean says I love you too. This was a wild night, no one slept.

And like. I could make this post longer, but I am planning to, one day, make a huge masterpost with real sources about that because honestly you could write a book about it.

But tl;dr spngate is a theory that misha did film for the last 2 episodes and the changes they made were truly last minute (september 2020), they were going for a canon destiel, possibly human!cas engame, dabb was always on our side, and it's based on stuff like jensen actively hating the ending to the point he made his prequel after 2 years of radio silence, 11 scenes just cut from the finale, misha saying he is going back filming, and people like mark pellegrino saying the last scene he filmed was with alex and misha. also the onion field. why lamp is the theory that cas is represented and symbolized by lamps throughout the show and when dean dances with a Lamp in a drug induced dream instead of, say, some kind of a lady he is actually thinking about cas.

also there are little things like when jensen at an online con before the finale says that oh yes i am wearing a grey flannel but tomorrow? who know it could be blue and green. and we all collectively lost our shit. like when he said he is most excited to "tackle" with cas in season 15. or that "dean has no taste, clearly". WHY WAS YOUR PERMISSION NEEDED JENSEN

there are a lot of things i didn't mention here because i simply can't unflod this whole thing just like that but

but if you understand this picture you might be entitled to financial compensation

[strangermarvelss]

the pain of letting you go- e.m (pt 4)

Pairing: Ex!Eddie Munson x Ex!AFAB!Reader

Summary: eddie’s jealous gets the best of him and you’ve had enough

Warnings: angst, fighting, arguing, reader being a bad ass, confrontation, slight eddie pov

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: part four of the series is here! i was so excited to write this part and i hope it helps move things along in the best way possible. thank you to everyone for the continued support! reminder: if the topic is sensitive for you, please do not read. enjoy! :) -sava

series masterlist

You bask in the soft flicker of the candlelight you’d set up for the night, lounging in the chair in the corner of the living room with a fuzzy blanket and a new book you picked up at the store. You always found comfort in a good book, letting your mind take you to places you’d never been before and put yourself into stories that were beyond your control.

Since the drama that occurred at Christopher’s birthday, you used the weekend to yourself to relax and take some time to settle down. No thinking about Shirley, Eddie, or even the strange feeling you’d recently discovered when Steve popped into your head. You went shopping, drank some wine, and used the weekend to unwind without crying your eyes out, which was a first for you since the separation.

During your alone time, you also went around researching about how things can get better between your family. The last thing you wanted was for everyone to be fighting and putting your son’s emotions on the line. You knew he wasn’t stupid and knew what was going on, and the way some of his expressions and mannerisms have changed within the last few months didn’t go unnoticed by you. 

So you decided that family therapy was the best option, that way everyone would be able to hash out any grievances they had and everyone could better understand one another on a new level, with an impartial bluffer to help guide the conversation back if things went sideways. You were curious to find out why Eddie was acting the way he was, and also curious to know what was going on in Christopher’s head. You definitely didn’t want him bottling anything up that could easily be talked about and worked out.

Sinking into the plush of the chair’s cushion, you grab the book and turn to the page you left off on the previous day, channeling your attention into the world the author carefully built. Before you’re able to settle in too deep, a knock on the door pulls you out of your semi-blissful state. You close the book with your bookmark hardly inside, tossing it on the chair as you get up and creep over to the door. 

Adjusting your robe over yourself and fixing your hair briefly in the mirror by the door, you open it to find Eddie and Christopher standing bundled up, your son’s face beaming as he runs up to you. You decide to not make a comment on the lack of Shirley’s presence, silently thanking whatever god that might be out there that it was just Eddie and your son. 

“Hey buddy! How was your weekend at Daddy’s apartment?” You ask him, wrapping your arms around his small body.

“It was fun! Dad took me to get a couple games for my new Gameboy and let me play his guitar! And then we went to the park today and got some hot chocolate!” He exclaims, his smile stretching from ear to ear. You give him a smile before looking up at Eddie with a surprised face. For someone so upset about the Gameboy just days ago, he sure was quick to give into the idea.

“That sounds like a fun time buddy, I’m glad you two enjoyed yourselves,” you respond back, rubbing his back.

There's a thick silence in the air for a moment, exchanging brief glances with Eddie and turning back to your son who was pretty confused as well. You pull him in for another hug and Chris lets out a giggle as you do.

“Hey bud, why don’t you go upstairs for a few? I want to talk with Mommy alone before I head out,” Eddie suggests, putting his hand on your son’s head and messing up the little curls he got from his father. He nods and takes his bags upstairs, trotting along until you hear the door close.

You would be lying if you said that Eddie wanting to talk with you didn’t make you a little anxious. Given how happy your son was walking through the door, surely it couldn’t be anything bad right? Maybe this would be the right moment to bring up the research you’d done over the weekend and suggestion family counseling. 

“I’m glad you wanted to talk, Eddie. I’ve actually been thinking a lot over the weekend-“

“Is Harrington here?” Eddie questions, looking around for a moment before directing his attention back towards you, his face emotionless and his tone firm, but even.

“Uh, no. Believe it or not he’s not here all the time,” you chuckle out, crossing your arms and leaning against the end of the banister.

“I mean he’s been here almost every single time I drop Chris off, so yeah, I do find that hard to believe actually,” he grumbles out. You shoot him a confused look, not knowing where this jealousy is coming from. It was obvious at the party and it’s stinking up the room now.

“What is your problem with Steve? You know the two of us are friends. Hell, you two are even friends! At least you used to be. Did something happen between you two?” You question him.

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and starts pacing in place. You can tell whatever is bothering him is big, with his free hand balled into a fist and resting at his side and his eye sort of twitching a little, all signs you’ve picked up on over the years as classic Eddie Munson rage.

“The two of you just seem wayy closer than usual. I know what Harrington is like and it just seems like he’s trying to get in your pants!”

“I’m sorry, are you on a bad trip right now? I mean, I sure hope not since you were driving our son around, but regardless, do you hear yourself? Steve is just a friend who has been helping me with the shit that YOU left me to deal with Eddie! And you out of all people, have no room to be fucking jealous right now,” you bite back, pointing a finger into his chest. He lets out a huff and stares daggers in your eyes, which you don’t waste a second matching his energy.

“Me? You’re blaming this shit on me? You really think this whole thing is my fault?” He questions dramatically, hands moving to his chest as he speaks. You roll your eyes at the idiotic question.

“Because it is your fault! You’re the one who wanted to separate in the first fucking place! And you’re the one who started dating immediately after, so don't talk to me about moving on!” You nearly scream, trying to be a bit quieter than you want to be for Christopher’s sake. 

“Hurry up and get to your point then, Y/N,” he tells you, throwing his arms in your direction as if giving you the floor to speak.

“So don’t you find it just a little hypocritical? The fact that YOU are able to break up our family and go date some random girl, but if I show any sort of interest in Steve romantically, it’s a crime against humanity? I mean, c’mon Eddie, it’s ridiculous,” you explain before stalking off into the kitchen with a scoff. 

The rage inside you from the months of sadness and torture was bubbling to the surface, annoyance oozing out of your pores at his blatant disrespect for you during your difficult time. You throw the fridge door open and grab a bottle of water, needed some kind of drink to help you cool down, and now with Christopher home, you knew it wasn’t going to be a glass of red.

Closing the fridge, you open the bottle and turn to see Eddie standing at the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed and weight shifted all on one hip. You scoff and all but slam the bottle on the counter. 

“What now?” You ask, matching his stance and raising a brow.

“Are you and Steve together? Can you at least stop dodging around the question and answer me that?” He questions. You let out a laugh, complete disbelief taking over you. You match his stance and quirk a brow, waiting from to just say he was pulling your leg, only for his face to remain the same. There is no way he was being serious.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. We’re not,” you tell him, shaking your head.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

That tipped you over the edge. The persistence of his questions, pestering you about the issue like a stubborn child, knocked you of the rageful rope you had been teetering on and down to the pit of violence.

“God Eddie, what is with you lately? It’s okay for you to move on but heaven forbid I start talking with someone, it’s wrong, Edward? Why is it okay for you to break up our family, tear my heart to shreds, and behave so recklessly towards our son’s and my emotions? What gives you the fucking right?” You ask, stepping closer with every word you spoke, your hand coming into contact with his cheek with a loud smack once you finish.

You watch his warm brown eyes twist into disbelief for a moment, before softening at your expression. You didn’t realize you were beginning to cry until you felt a tear slip past your cheek, standing up straight and wiping it away quickly. You look at him for a moment, studying his frozen figure as he holds his ring clad hand to his cheek, the soft pale flesh quickly turning pink. 

“You can let yourself out,” you tell him, brushing by and exiting the kitchen. You turn the corner and fling yourself up the stairs and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You felt your body sliding down your bedroom door, just as you did the day you found out he was seeing Shirley. The day you found out this separation wasn’t some cruel joke, but the harsh reality coming to tell you that your once happy marriage was officially over, and that the love Eddie once had for you was gone.

Eddie’s back straightens as his brain tries to catch up with everything that just happened, now left alone in the kitchen. He looks around for a moment to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and that his wife-ex, just slapped him. His cheek stung, the prickling feeling taking over his face. You had never called him Edward before, it was always Eddie, Eds, or some sweet pet name before the separation. You also have never resulted into any kind of physical violence before when you two would fight, and neither did Eddie. He didn’t want to be like his father. 

Opening the freezer door, Eddie grabs a few ice cubes and a paper towel, tossing them in and twisting it into a ball. He winces as the cold hits his face, but is quick to relax and take in the soothing comfort of the dampening sheet. He exits the kitchen in no hurry, his feet dragging along with the rest of his body.

He pauses for a moment when he reaches the door, his hand hanging loosely on the handle. Had he really been so blind during the entire thing to see how upset you were? He knew he could be a bit clueless at times, but it never happened in regards to your actions or feelings, he made sure to always be attentive towards you. At least, he used to be.

Eddie’s head turns towards the stairs, contemplating whether he should go up and apologize for his actions, for acting like a child. You were right, he didn’t get the right to ask you if Steve was dating you, not after he started dating Shirley and initially broke things off. He watches as Christopher’s head slowly appears from behind the wall, a frown resting upon his lips as he sees his father with the paper towel resting on his cheek. Eddie’s eyes go wide at seeing his son, before his own mouth twists into a frown of its own. 

He knew Christopher was a curious child, so there was no denying he heard the entire thing play out. How upset his mother was, how much of a dickhead his father was being. The poor boy was too young for any of the shit he was currently going through, which just started reminding Eddie of his own upbringing. How he’d catch his parents going at it in the kitchen of their trailer, with Eddie’s head popping out to see the carnage in real time. Eddie was slowly starting to realize that he was doing the one thing he promised himself he wouldn’t.

The vow he made the day Christopher came into the world, the vow to be the best father to his beautiful baby boy, whose eyes shined bright like his own chocolate orbs. That he wouldn’t be a deadbeat like his own father and would do anything to protect Chris from the harsh realities of the world, and make his childhood a happy one he could look back on and smile about. That vow was bending more and more each passing day as the two of you fought and grew further apart. If he didn’t do something about his actions soon, that vow would snap in half, and no amount of repairs would mend it back together.

Shooting his son a sympathetic smile, he turns his head back towards the door as his hand twists the knob, retreating to Wayne's truck with the heavy sound of the door closing behind him. He knew he fucked up, there was no denying that. Twisting the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life and he slowly backs out of the driveway, taking the drive back to his apartment to think about everything he’s done to you in the past few months.

And how he can make it up to you.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Hi! So I had a request for Avatar the way of water where the reader is a huge daddy’s girl and is also like Jake’s favorite because she rarely gets into trouble but when she does Jake gets super angry and disappointed in her but she stands her ground and when it gets to much she just storms away and since then they bump heads constantly and aren’t the same anymore. Could you write how they are forced to make up by the family brcause they just can’t handle the tension anymore? I would be very happy if you use my idea. Stay healthy and don’t overwork yourself!

Sullys Stick Together

[F!Reader, but could be read as gender neutral I don't actually give you any pronouns or code you any way.]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

Spoilers for The Way of Water in here!!

[AN: My apologies this took like a month for me to do,,, I honestly take my time with things these days. Anyways, here's this for you! Just headcanons because my energy is going towards uni.]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Everyone in the family is tired of the passive aggressiveness you and your father are showing towards each other at this point. It's ridiculous how you two just actively refuse to talk about it or even attempt to make up.

Look, it was one mistake. ONE. Your father had already expected Lo'ak to screw around, but you? His golden child? The one who exceeds his expectations? The one who has done nothing but good the entire odd 15 or so years you've been alive? How could you mess around that badly? Making him look like a fool in front of Ronal and Tonowari... He asked you to pull your weight, not throw yourself head first into dangerous situations and actively disobey orders.

And to make it worse, you argued with him! Your anger to defend your brother Lo'ak and yourself had boiled over. It wasn't entirely your fault that you were beyond the reef. Ao'nung and Rotxo were truly the ones to blame! They played a cruel trick on you and your brother and you almost lost your lives in the process! And to make matters worse, Lo'ak took the blame. You wanted to tell Tonowari what had really happened and Lo'ak stopped you!

You tried to really explain this to your father. His anger shouldn't be directed towards Lo'ak or you. Your father didn't care and said that you weren't playing by Omaticaya standards, this was now Metkayina territory, and you all had to play and live by their rules.

What a load of bullshit. Verbatim, that's all you could say. Tail flicking downwards in annoyance, ears pressed flat against your skull - hell you even hissed at your father baring sharp canines to to further your ire at him - you couldn't understand why he was just rolling over and letting the Metkayina lord over him.

How they treated your sister, Kiri, how they almost got Lo'ak and yourself killed, the whispers of how inept you and your family were.... Fitting in here wasn't easy.

That was a rough night. Your father was more than upset with you and the space all of you lived in became awkward, cold and hostile. Your mother spent more than enough time hashing things out with your father but truly only the two of you could make this right.

"Your child has a strong heart," she said. "They take strongly after you. You know this." Your mother's voice was soothing and hushed as she spoke to your father. "Please, all they want to do is prove their point. It was not done in a good way, but they love you and cannot tell why you act and treat them, and their siblings otherwise."

Anyways there's no actual forcing here. While everyone is very tired of you two bumping heads, no one actually forces the two of you to make up. Neteyam might approach your father and try to sway his opinions, Tuk will often do something similar, no one can make things right between the two of you but you. Kiri doesn't really want to do anything either of you are uncomfortable with, as she respects you as her sibling, and Jake as her father but man she doesn't like the awkward energy either. I think she's just much more "teenage angst and sass" in her approaches to BOTH of you.

Neytiri is a bit more direct in her approach, often saying "your child misses you" or something to that effect. She's also a bit more blunt in believing Jake is the adult and he should make the first step to mending the relationship. However, Neytiri kinda gets behind your reasoning. She doesn't like being Metkayina either. She misses the forest. Misses being Omaticaya, and a tsahik in her own right.

Lo'ak argues with his father too. He's got your back through and through and hates that Jake is being such a hard ass on you.

Eventually, things just kinda come to an emotional head and you and your father talk it out. And it's done in that dad way of not actually addressing what had happened but rather understanding all you can do is move forward from the incident and make vague allusions to it later on.

It kinda works - Neytiri gets to stop nagging Jake to speak with you and your siblings can go back to not having to whisper about you.

Jake loves you. Of course he does. You're his child, he will always be your father, that is non negotiable.

But damn, you take after him just a bit too much.

[roleplaymadness]

Okay, here goes nothing (again). Before I type out this request, PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING

YOU MUST BE 18 OR OLDER

YOU MUST BE FEMALE AND HAVE FEMALE OCS

YOU MUST BE OKAY WITH MXF PAIRINGS AND ROMANCE TROPES

YOU MUST BE OKAY WITH NSFW AND MATURE CONTENT AND THEMES

Sadly, it is hard to find a roleplay partner because all of the requests I have seen are something super specific fandom wise, or they request you to play a certain character and/or use a certain face claim. No, and no. I like using my own OCs and the faceclaims I want. It's fine to desire specifics but I just hate seeing requests that say they want a specific face claim. Like where is the fun in that for me? Forgive that rant. Below is a list of the genres I will do (a 💗 will be next to the genre or genres I am most interested in currently).

Fantasy (vampires, pirates, knights, etc) 💗

Sci fi (space, aliens, other species, etc)

Slice of life (I just recently got back into this) 💗

Western (have been craving some western action lately) 💗

If you message me, and we talk and plan a roleplay, let's thoroughly hash out ideas and OCs before we move to Discord and start the roleplay. I want us to have a basis to go into. It makes things easier before we agree to start anything, and also can help us with starting off. Also, showing OCs is a very big thing for me, because my OCs or faceclaims may not be everyone's cup of tea, and that is totally fine! We DON'T HAVE TO ROLEPLAY IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY OCS! So if we can hash all of that out in dms BEFORE starting a roleplay, it will help both of us in the long run with deciding to go further or not. I am not looking to waste anyone's time!

I loooooooove angst, and I adore love triangles. I enjoy making playlists, finding aesthetics, and gushing about our characters and ships OOC. I want the roleplay to consume my mind and have it be what I am thinking about while at work and so forth. I am not picky about response length. As long as it is like a paragraph or two, I am good. No one liners obviously. But sometimes there just isn't enough going on to progress the story with a book length response.

I apologize that this is so long, but I had to say it. So here is what we will do. If you have read this far, and can fit with the above criteria, comment "💗 and the genre you are looking for next to it". I can't go based on likes anymore bc people don't know how to stop spam liking shit.

[czenzo]

Missed Call

[ao3] Skullyle Internet Friends Series: [1 – Pretty Boy] [2 – Missed Call]

summary:

[00:13] Missed call from Skull Lucy frowned at her phone for the hundredth time that morning. “Has he said something horribly controversial again?” Holly said over her shoulder. “No, nothing like that," she said. "He, er— he called me. Or, tried to. It was just gone midnight, I was asleep.” “And this is bothering you because…?” Lucy finally looked up from her phone. “We’ve never spoken over the phone before.” One missed call sends Lucy spiralling. She begins to question her feelings towards her strange, snarky online friend.

words: 3,440 rating: T

notes: to all the lovely people in the comments for Pretty Boy who said they’d read more, this is for you!

[00:13] Missed call from Skull

Lucy frowned at her phone for the hundredth time that morning.

“Has he said something horribly controversial again?” Holly said over her shoulder. Lucy jumped so intensely she almost pulled a muscle; it was easy to forget how quiet her coworker could be when she wanted to.

“No, nothing like that,” she replied after her heart rate steadied. “He, er— he called me. Or, tried to. It was just gone midnight, I was asleep.”

“And this is bothering you because…?”

Lucy finally looked up from her phone. “We’ve never spoken over the phone before.”

“Ever? You’ve known each other a while though, right?”

“About half a year.”

“And you talk every day?”

“Near enough.”

Now it was Holly’s turn to frown. “And you’ve… never called? Never heard each other’s voices?”

“No.”

“Not even sent a silly voice note here and there?”

Lucy shrugged. “I’m not a voice note kind of person.”

A long, slow nod was her only response, which was more unnerving than Lucy would’ve liked to admit. “Is it weird? That we only ever text?”

Holly made a vague gesture. “If I were in your shoes, I’d think it a little odd, but—”

“Can I get some service, or is this establishment closed for gossip hour?”

Lucy’s head whipped around to find a customer waiting at the till, red irritation blooming high on his cheeks. She bit back an instinctive snarky response.

Luckily Holly had a knack for dealing with difficult customers, and rushed over to serve him with a beaming smile. “Of course! I can’t apologise enough for being distracted. What can I get for you?”

Lucy decided she was in dire need of a break. She set a timer, threw together a cup of tea and drifted off into the break room, finding comfort in the battered settee with with so many cracks and tears the original leather was barely visible.

She drew her phone out of her apron pocket. The missed call notification still sat there, taunting her for not knowing how to reply. Skull himself hadn’t said anything, either, which was incredibly unusual for him. It was bobbing on three p.m.; normally by now he would have sent at least two obscure memes, three colourful insults, and one post from their shared paranormal forum with added commentary on how stupid OP was. Instead, she hadn’t heard a peep from him.

‘Unusual’ was a massive understatement.

Her teeth worried the skin of her lips. What if something serious had happened, and she was too hung up on a silly missed call to check up on him? What if she’d done something to severely piss him off, and the missed call was his last attempt to hash it out?

Or—the most likely scenario—what if he clicked the call button without realising, and she was making a huge deal over something hilariously insignificant?

She took a swig of her scalding tea, let her head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a long, excruciating moment of contemplation, then eventually opened their chat.

The cursor blinked. Lucy steeled her nerves and reminded herself that she was being a complete tit.

[Joan] did you mean to call me?

There! Message sent; she was officially no longer a cowardly over-thinker. She relaxed and sunk further into the chair, but stiffened as soon as she saw that Skull was typing. Okay, scratch that—she was definitely still a cowardly over-thinker.

[Skull] yea we need 2 talk

Shit.

It took an embarrassing amount of time to type her response.

[Joan] shit, is everything alright? [Skull] no its p serious [Skull] thought it wldv been easier 2 talk abt it over the phone [Skull] but ur probs at work rn so ill just text it [Skull] hold on

Lucy straightened and waited with bated breath, tea all but forgotten about. In the time Skull took to type, Lucy involuntarily went through all of her worst-case scenarios one more time, and suddenly felt the need for a drink much stronger than tea. Christ—why was this bothering her so much?

[Skull] ive been diagnosed with [Skull] huge dick syndrome [Skull] its fatal. im so sorry

Lucy slowly placed her phone on the settee, counteracting the urge to lob it directly at the nearest wall. She gave herself a moment to breathe—in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like Holly taught her to do when a customer really got on her nerves—before cautiously picking it back up again.

[Joan] you’re a fucking menace [Joan] don’t pull that kind of thing again. [Skull] HAHAHAHAHAHA [Skull] dont lie joanie. i got you GOOD [Joan] I knew you could be a proper knob sometimes but I didn’t think it was this bad [Skull] clearly u gotta get 2 know me better [Skull] in all honesty tho i didnt mean to call u [Skull] the call button is right next 2 the block button [Skull] an idiotic design choice if i ever saw one [Joan] you ought to send the developers a strongly worded email [Skull] who the fuck says ought in a casual conversation [Joan] it’s a perfectly normal thing to say?? [Skull] yea if ur from the middle ages [Joan] ok shut up we’re not changing the topic [Joan] if you didn’t mean to call me, why did you go radio silent? [Joan] surely the normal thing to do would’ve been to say “Oops, my bad, didn’t mean to call you” [Skull] Oops, my bad, didn’t mean to call you [Joan] dick [Skull] huge one, yeah [Skull] its a serious condition [Joan] 🖕 [Skull] i didnt even realise id butt dialed you lmao [Skull] fell asleep right after. woke up like 10 mins ago [Skull] im a different creature past midnight [Skull] unaware of and unliable for my actions [Joan] good luck getting that to hold up in court [Skull] id charm my way into acquittal [Skull] all the lady judges would love me [Skull] actually so wld the non lady judges [Skull] im just that irresistible [Joan] more like irritating :/ [Joan] they’d declare you guilty so they never have to see your ugly mug again [Skull] u have no proof i have an ugly mug [Skull] for all u know i cld b on magazine covers [Skull] flexing. smouldering. [Skull] rock hard jawline [Skull] rock hard abs [Skull] rock hard thighs [Joan] I’m stopping that list right there [Skull] buzzkill. [Skull] i bet your manager keeps u in the back so ur face doesnt scare off the poor customers [Joan] I’m practically the face of the company [Joan] everyone loves me [Skull] this is some next level delusion [Skull] does ‘everyone’ include Pretty Boy [Joan] this is some next level obsession [Skull] im not obsessed with him [Skull] im far superior than him anyway [Skull] if he saw me in the street hed drop dead [Skull] out of pure shock [Skull] from seeing my rock hard jawline, [Skull] rock hard abs, [Joan] STOP [Skull] my sexy voice alone could crush his ego [Joan] I wasn’t aware voice cracks and nervous trembling could do that [Skull] kiss my arse joan [Skull] you have no idea what i sound like [Joan] and same vice versa

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. She had an opening here—should she take it? She took a sip of her tea, now disgustingly lukewarm, and decided to go for it.

[Joan] is it weird, that we talk so regularly but only ever over text? [Skull] cant say its ever crossed my mind [Skull] why wld that b weird [Joan] I don’t know [Joan] it’s just something a coworker mentioned [Skull] so THAT’S why the missed call got under ur skin [Skull] ur so painfully transparent [Joan] no I’m not? [Skull] denial is not a good look on u [Skull] if it bothers u so much we can just call [Skull] like any normal fucking ppl wld do [Joan] I suppose [Skull] its not a big deal [Skull] unless u swoon so hard at my voice u get a concussion or smth [Skull] which is highly likely [Skull] considering ur delicate disposition [Joan] wtf is that supposed to mean [Skull] last time Pretty Boy called u by ur name u almost dropped ur phone in coffee [Joan] in hindsight [Joan] mentioning that to you was a mistake [Skull] it wasnt [Skull] its a great addition to my joan blackmail bank [Joan] har bloody har [Joan] you’re a comedic genius [Skull] oh em gee its so nice 2 see my talent finally b acknowledged

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Her break was up. Startled that the time had flown by so quickly, she checked the clock on the wall, only to find she was indeed due back on the shop floor.

On the bright side, she no longer had to worry about the possibility of Skull being a) dead, or b) eternally pissed off at her. Instead, her mind focused on the very real chance that she’d be talking to him on the phone in the near future.

Lucy was by no means completely inept; she could handle a phone call when it was necessary. However, phoning her old insurance provider to get them to remove her from their annoying mailing list and calling a close (could she consider them close when she knew so little about him?) friend acquaintance for the first time were very, very different things.

A hot burst of air greeted her as she emerged from the back and settled behind the counter. She’d been a barista at this cafe for so long everything was muscle memory. It was a mostly handy skill, until someone once switched the syrups around and she almost handed a hazelnut latte to someone with a severe nut allergy. Besides that, and… her tendency to text on the job… she swore she was a virtue to the company.

“Got a clearer head now?” Holly said over the sound of milk being steamed.

“Yeah. I brought it up, and now we might actually end up calling.”

“Ooh, how exciting!” Holly beamed, then added quietly, “Unless he turns out to be a creep, that is.”

Lucy took moment too long to reply. “I’m sure he isn’t.”

“…Yeah!” Was Holly’s response, full of fake optimism that was far from convincing.

A third voice—one Lucy was becoming more familiar with these days—came from the other side of the counter. “Who might turn out to be a creep?”

Lucy rushed to meet Lockwood at the till. Even on a Saturday, he was still dressed smartly. “Oh, no one. Just— er, a friend of mine.”

“They only ever text! He could be anyone,” Holly stage-whispered to him.

Lucy gently batted her out of the way. “You don’t need to spill my private life to customers, thank you.”

“But he’s our best regular.”

Lockwood beamed. “Glad to hear it.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and tapped the till screen out of standby. “Your usual?”

“No, actually,” he said, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself over something so trivial. “I’d like to try that new gingerbread latte, please.”

“A sucker for a Christmas special, are we?”

He shrugged. “Who can’t resist a bit of seasonal marketing? I’ll also have a slice of lemon drizzle too, if you’ll allow it.”

A huff of laughter escaped her. “Wow, you’re really branching out today.”

He gave her another one of his toothy grins. As he paid, he quirked a curious eyebrow. “What’s this about a maybe-creep you only ever text, then?”

“Oh, I can’t believe Holly told you about that.” Actually, she could—over the past month or so, Lockwood’s visits had become less by-the-script, and the two of them had learnt more about him than they ever expected to. Of course, it was a two way street, and as a result Lockwood gained a firm grasp on Lucy’s sarcasm, weakness for confident smiles, and now her friendship with a random guy on the internet.

She’d managed to avoid mentioning Skull to him, up until now. She was surprised the secrecy had lasted this long, though she was unsure why she’d been so keen to keep quiet about him.

“We met online,” she said slowly. Thankfully, putting Lockwood’s order together kept her hands busy and her brain occupied, which meant she had less energy to overthink how she’d explain her situation. “Met through a shared interest. We were— er, well, honestly we argued a lot, at first. I’m not sure how it turned into a friendship, but it did, and now we talk pretty regularly.”

“Every day,” Holly added.

“For…?”

Lucy shrunk in on herself slightly. “…Six months? Ish?”

Lockwood whistled, long and slow. “That’s quite a bit of time.”

“Exactly!”

“Holly, shut up,” Lucy said with very little venom. “We’re going to call. We’re going to talk. It’s not an issue.”

He leaned on the counter, watching her dust ginger onto his drink. “Right now?”

“What? No, not right now. That’d be mad.”

“Could be interesting.”

She slid the drink and plate over to him. “Don’t be nosey.”

“It’s in my nature, Luce.” He winked, taking a sip of his drink. “Gossip at heart.”

Lucy’s stomach did a funny flip. She playfully waved him off under the pretence she was in a rush to serve the next waiting customer, and was harshly reminded she forgot to put her phone on silent when her pocket was met with a barrage of vibrations.

As the atmosphere lulled once all customers had been served and seated, she returned to her chat with Skull. Most of it was pure gibberish, a poor attempt at grabbing her attention again by way of spam.

[Skull] did u fucking die??? [Joan] when will you get it into your thick skull that I have timed breaks [Joan] and once said timed breaks are over [Joan] I go back to work [Skull] yet here u r, still txting on the job [Skull] what a rebel u are, joanie [Skull] its cute u spend ur entire allocated free time talking 2 me [Skull] clearly u have ur priorities straight [Joan] if that were true I’d have blocked you ages ago [Skull] oh no, my ego [Skull] has PB swung round yet today [Joan] he just did [Skull] and? [Skull] come on. give me the details [Skull] don’t deprive me of the gossip [Joan] nothing really happened [Joan] he changed his order up [Joan] asked about you [Skull] he fucking what [Joan] my chatty coworker told him :/ [Joan] and he got curious [Skull] did u tell him abt my rock hard jawline, [Skull] rock hard abs, [Joan] stfu that wasn’t even funny the first time [Skull] lies + slander [Skull] what did u tell him [Joan] I didn’t expect you to care so much about what he thinks [Skull] i dont. [Skull] im looking for openings to bully him [Joan] I just told him how we ‘met’ [Skull] is that it?? [Skull] thats so fucking boring [Joan] I mean [Joan] we also briefly spoke about the whole Only Texting situation [Skull] christ. what did he say to that [Joan] he thought I was going to call you right there and then [Joan] on the shop floor [Skull] is he stupid [Joan] hypocrite [Skull] my intellect is vast and varied tyvm [Skull] y is everyone obsessed with the calling thing [Skull] whys it such a big deal

Lucy glanced at her phone sidelong as she wiped down the counters. Why was it such a big deal?

She dwelled on it for a moment or two, but was cut short at the sight of the whole screen lighting up with Incoming call: Skull.

At first, she simply stared. Pressing the red decline button would mean everything stayed as it was—no awkward first phone call, no pressure to make their casual, stupid online friendship something more meaningful, no caving to the expectations of the more socially well-adjusted people around her. But pressing the green pick up button would mean… well, it would mean talking to Skull. Like actual friends. What would they even talk about?

Curiosity gnawed away at her.

Lucy pressed the green button.

“You were staring at your phone wondering if you should pick up, weren’t you?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected Skull to sound like, but it wasn’t quite this. He didn’t sound significantly older or younger, though his voice had a slight rasp to it, and she could hear his smile—knowing him, it was more likely to be a smirk—through his words. It was unfamiliar, yet so undeniably Skull that she couldn’t help but smile a bit herself.

“No. I told you, I’m at work. Busy day.”

“Busy enough that you picked up the phone in the middle of your shift?”

She rolled her eyes fondly and signalled to Holly she’d be back in five minutes—emergency, she mouthed, gesturing to the phone at her ear—and Holly gave her a knowing look in return.

London’s wintery chill nipped at her skin as soon as she stepped outside, but the fresh air was nothing short of lovely.

She squinted up at the sky; grey clouds loomed overhead. “Why now? Why not call later?”

“Got sick of you awkwardly bringing it up over text,” he said, then added: “Wanted to see if you’d pick up.”

“Well, here I am. I picked up. Now what?”

A short pause. “You were the one that was so bothered by it all.”

“I wasn’t that bothered.”

“Er, yeah you fucking were. So, my voice: what’s the verdict? Are you swooning?”

She gave a harsh huff of laughter. “You bloody wish.”

“I can hear you moved outside. Needed some fresh air to cool your blush?”

“Shut up? You’re not funny. Besides, my voice is miles better. I bet you almost tripped over your own feet when I first spoke.”

“I’m nothing but elegant and graceful,” he said, playfully indignant, “even when faced with a really annoying, nasally voice.”

“Charming.”

A beat, then: “I didn’t know you were northern.”

A small, ugly snort escaped her as she contemplated this. At the beginning of their acquaintanceship they’d stuck to an unspoken rule of avoiding delving into their personal lives, but as time passed and they became more comfortable with brutally bullying each other under the guise of friendship, details had come out here and there. They were both English. She worked at a cafe. His go-to drink order was an espresso martini (I’d had you down as a guinness kind of guy, Lucy had said, to which he responded thats the worst fucking insult). The drops of info were random and sporadic, and ended up so Lucy knew Skull had a really stupid tattoo on his left arse cheek, but he didn’t know she was northern—and this, in her opinion, was downright hilarious.

“You do now,” she said. “Look, I really can’t talk for long. I already spend way too much of my shift on my phone.”

“This was an emergency,” Skull said dryly, “you had to succumb to social pressures and modern friendship conventions.”

Lucy huffed in disbelief. “Friendship?”

“Slip of the tongue. I meant rivalry.”

“Of course you did. Denial is not a good look— er, sound, on you.”

He scoffed playfully. “Don’t throw my own words back at me. It’s not my fault you’re desperate for my attention and companionship.”

“And it isn’t my fault you’re projecting.”

“Ooh, you’re pushing it,” he said, and Lucy really could hear his smile. “I could just hang up right now and never contact you again.”

She sighed wistfully. “That would truly be the dream.”

“A nightmare for you, more like. You couldn’t survive without m—”

Lucy took great satisfaction in hanging up on him, and waltzed back into the shop with a lazy smile on her face. To her surprise, it wasn’t Holly whose eye she caught first upon her return, but Lockwood’s. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before flashing a grin—it was his split-second of hesitation that made Lucy wonder if he’d been watching her call Skull through the window.

“So,” Holly drawled, leaning in close as Lucy returned behind the counter, “how was the emergency?”

“Awful. Three wounded, one fatality.”

Holly’s teasing smile froze; it was clear she still hadn’t fully accustomed to Lucy’s sense of humour.

“It was fine. It’s nice to just have that over and done with. Now I can stop thinking about it.”

“What was he like?”

“Exactly how he is over text— no, wait, his ego was actually more inflated. He’s a bit insufferable.”

“The smile on your face counteracts your words, Luce.” Holly playfully nudged her before diverting her attention to a waiting customer, and together they fell back into their routine. After the line had gone back down, she stole a glance at her phone, and held back a snort at the notifications waiting for her.

[Skull] how DARE you. how fucking dare you [Skull] next time we call I’m getting my revenge

[acidxinxwonderland]

Resurgence

Chapter two: Reconcile

18 plus!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader

Summary: You live a stressful life to say the least, working two jobs and going to college is no easy task. You find it hard maintaining many things, such as friendships, your home and most importantly yourself. Yet after finding boxes full of parts for an animatronic near a dumpster, you do everything in your power to restore him. Little did you know that he was going to change your life for the better.

Tags: Female Reader, No use of y/n, Size Difference, Size Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, Dominant Glamrock Freddy, Submissive Reader, Touch-Starved, Reader is a hot mess, nicotine addiction, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn-ish, Build a penis, Readers parents have passed away

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: All the chapters aren't going to be words that start with the letter R, I promise LOL. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I've been really trying to improve my writing and I hope it shows :DD

AO3 link

Chapter 1

The pale light of the sun rising filters through your windows, a soft groan escaping your lips as the sound of a blaring alarm clock hits your ears. You blink awake, eyes heavy with sleepiness as you reach your hand over to your bedside table, blindly grasping at the air until you find your phone.

You bring it close to your face, barely able to make anything out through your blurry vision as you turn it off. You reluctantly sit up, fatigue has a complete hold of you, moving your feet off the side of the bed as if you were in slow motion.

You muster the strength to stand up, nearly tripping over your discarded pants from last night while stumbling over to the door. You slowly descend down the stairs, rubbing at your eyes as you go to make a b line for the kitchen yet you stop in place from the smell of food in the air.

That’s right, you have a new buddy.

You see the animatronic bear at the stove with his back turned towards you, the sweet melody of his humming finally hitting your ears. He dwarfs everything around him, practically a giant in your own home yet at this very moment he seemed nothing more than peaceful. The golden rays seeping through the half-closed curtains hit him just right, it was memorizing.

So memorizing you forgot you weren’t wearing any pants for a moment. You look down at yourself, realizing you should probably go upstairs and put something on. Just as you’re about to make your grand escape Freddy looks back at you.

“Superstar!” He exclaims in a cheerful tone, spinning around to face you. “Good morning-” His voice abruptly trails off as his gaze locks onto your lower half. “Oh! You are… You are not wearing pants.”

Heat rises up to your face at a breakneck speed, never have you wanted to run away from your own home until now. You force your lips up into an awkward smile, fingers unconsciously finding their way to scratch the back of your neck.

“S-sorry about that, I totally forgot that you’re here now… Living with me.” You trail off, looking anywhere but his face.

“There is no need to apologize, you are in the comfort of your own home. I’m sure this is a very common practice among you humans.” He was talking as if you were some alien. The absurdity prompts a chuckle to escape from your lips.

“I guess you could say that.” You finally bring your eyes back to him yet his gaze is fixated on your bare legs. You are a bit taken aback, furrowing your brows until chalking it off as just his curiosity, you’re sure he’s never seen someone just wearing underwear before.

His optics finally meet yours, with a small twitch of his ears he hastily turns, reaching for a plate in the cupboard.

“I have made you something called ‘corned beef hash’, I found the can and thought perhaps this would be good enough for breakfast.” He scoops the food onto the plate carefully, facing back towards you, extending the plate with a slightly awkward motion.

You offer him a grateful smile, taking a step forward to take the plate from his hand. “Thank you Freddy, I’m going to eat this upstairs, don’t have much time before my class.”

“Completely understandable, perhaps you should try to get more rest afterwards? It will be beneficial!” He suggests with a hint of concern.

You give a short nod of your head. “Yeah, okay. A short nap, I’ll see you later then!”

With that you part ways with the animatronic bear, feeling both grateful and embarrassed at the same time as you retreat back to your room to begin your class.

During the entire lecture you fought the constant battle of keeping your eyelids from sliding shut, the minutes seemed to stretch on for hours as your focus continued to wane. Yet there was still a strong determination in you, one that made you want to stay on top of your studies. You soldier on with every key-stroke and hurried note taking.

As soon as your class is finished you immediately go back to your bed, as you get underneath the blankets it almost feels like a comforting embrace, easily slipping into the sweet security of sleep. It was as if you blinked, opening your eyes again to feel a sense of rejuvenation. Getting up you prepare yourself for the rest of the day, ensuring that you have pants on this time.

Walking back downstairs with a relaxed look on your face you find Freddy doing a task once again, bending over the coffee table and carefully placing trash into a bag. He looks over at you with kind eyes, straightening himself out.

“Hello! You seem to be feeling much better.” He observes, setting the trash bag near the coffee table.

“Yeah, I am. And it seems like you’ve been keeping yourself busy.” You gesture towards the trash bag, he looks down at it for a moment as if he forgot what he was just doing before replying.

“I sure have! There is much to do here, it is always good to get started as soon as possible.”

“Well thank you. This is… Nice.” Your appreciation was evident in your tone.

“Of course superstar! ‘Nice’ sums it up well. Now, do you have any plans today?”

You let out a small hum of thought, looking off to the side, you had more free time now that Freddy was here albeit not much. You have gotten used to going straight to work on him as soon as you have time spare. You actually had the entire day off now! You could do anything your heart desires, like sitting on the couch and watching some fun movies with a nice beer.

However, once your gaze returns to Freddy, a new and exciting idea pops up in your mind. It has been half a year since you’ve last actually hung out with some old friends.

“I mean… I could take you out to see one of my friends?” You suggest, watching Freddy’s curiosity pique.

He tilts his head to the side. “A friend? That sounds quite fun!”

“Hell yeah it does, the look on his face when he sees you…” You chuckle to yourself at the thought.

One of your best friends, Aidan, thought that re-building Freddy would be impossible, he droned on and on about it the entire way back home when you first found him. You told yourself during that very moment you were going to prove him wrong and rub it in your face. Here is your opportunity.

“Let’s get going then.” You declare with a mischievous glint in your eyes, making your way to the door and grabbing your keys from the hook on the wall.

“We’re going now?” Freddy’s tone was quizzical as he follows after you. “What about lunch? It is almost 2 PM.”

“Lunch can wait big guy.” You open the door, leading him towards your van parked in your driveway.

You pause once the heavy steps behind you come to a halt. You turn to find him gazing upwards, captivated by the beauty of the world.

“This is…” He trails off while staring up at the expanse of the clear blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds.

You feel your heart flutter from the sight, a warmth rushing throughout your body. “It’s a lot different during the day, huh?”

Freddy brings his attention back down to you, nodding his head. “Yes it truly is. It is all so… Marvelous.” He was silent for a brief moment afterwards and you can hear the sounds of his gears inside of him becoming faster as if he was trying to process it all. “I apologize, let us get a move on, shall we?”

“There’s no need to be sorry, soak it all in. It’s um… It’s nice, seeing you experience this stuff.” You feel a bit awkward to admit it as you continue the walk over to your van.

“Is that so? Well I’m glad to hear it.” He lets out a mechanicalized hum, a twinge of amusement in his tone.

With a brisk nod, you open the door to the passengers side. Your van was sizable, and though you’re aware fitting him inside might prove a challenge, you are undeterred. He halts for a moment, eyes sweeping across the interior of your vehicle. Eventually, he eases himself inside with cautious movements. The door clicks shut as you round the van, claiming your seat on the driver's side.

Having Freddy inside causes the space to be quite snug, you could work with it though. You slide your seatbelt across your body, securing it with the sound of a click. Freddy attempts to copy you but alas his torso was too large to put it on, his ear twitches at that fact, looking at you for guidance.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you initiate the ignition, the engine’s hum filling the space of the van. “Don’t worry about it,” you assure him. “It’s a short drive.” The challenge now shifts to avoiding any encounters with law enforcement; you had no idea how a police officer would react to an animatronic bear riding shotgun. Despite your research to ensure there were no legal repercussions for repairing him, the sight of Freddy might be a bit unsettling for anyone to see at the moment.

Freddy’s curiosity is piqued the moment the van’s engine roars to life, blue eyes flitting from one detail to another with wonderment behind his gaze. You observe his fingers dancing over the vents before him, opening it and closing it only to flinch once the cool air of the AC kicks in.

“Motor vehicles are quite interesting.” He muses, his attention shifting to a button on the dashboard. With a press, loud music floods in through the speakers, once again startling the bear. Your laughter rings out, quickly turning the music down to make it more bearable for him.

“Careful there, you’re going to hit the eject button.” You playfully quip, a grin lighting up your features as you press down on the gas and drive down your winding gravel driveway.

“An… An eject button? As in one that will kick me out of the motor vehicle?” There was genuine concern in both his face and words, seeking clarification from you.

Suppressing a laugh, you meet his gaze with a mischievous glint in your eyes, pulling out onto the road. “Nah, not really.” A widening grin forms on your lips from the satisfaction of tricking him. “Can’t believe you fell for that.”

Freddy lets out a simulated huff, his gaze shifting to the window beside him. “Well, forgive me for believing in the information my supposed guide to the outside world provides.” He retorts, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness.

You let out an amused chuckle, glancing his way. “Touché Freddy. But rest assured, I promise not to send you flying out of my truck.”

“Good to know, as I’d prefer to stay grounded.”

With that the two of you fell silent as the miles rolled by, Freddy’s eyes were glued to the passing scenery going by as soft music played in the background while you puffed on the end of a cigarette. It was peaceful, a moment you didn’t want to end, there was no better company than with another you can sit in comfortable silence in.

Yet before you know it you are pulling into the driveway of your friend's home. Now that you are here you feel a nervousness bubbling up from your stomach to your throat, you didn’t even tell him about your arrival, not to mention the fact you barely even spoke to him in quite a long time. You stay in place staring at the front door, feeling the need to pull out and drive away.

“Superstar?” Freddy pulls you from your racing thoughts, as soon as your eyes meet his kind ones you feel that heavy weight dissipating.

“Sorry.” You murmur, unbuckling your seatbelt and shutting off the engine. “I should probably warn you he might be a bit… Shocked seeing you.”

“Shocked? Isn’t he aware you repaired me?” He held a quizzical tone.

“Um well… No, he has no idea we’re coming to visit. If it wasn’t obvious by my last minute decision to visit him.” You give the bear a sheepish smile, scratching at the back of your neck.

“Oh I see well that will be no problem! I am known for being quite lovable to children and grown adults alike.”

“That’s very true, let’s get in there and show him how cool you are.” You open the door and Freddy follows suit, getting out of the van together and making your way up to the door.

You steel your nerves, a determined look coming across your face as you knock on the door. You take a step back, taking in a slow deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart. You watch as the door knob is turned, swinging open to reveal none other than one of your closet friends. A tall, young man with disheveled brown hair and dull green eyes.

He was taken aback by your sudden arrival, although when his gaze finally landed upon Freddy his eyes widened like saucers. “Oh… Oh my god.” He sputters out, looking back and forth between the two of you.

The anxiety you once had was replaced by sheer giddiness, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “That’s fucking right, I rebuilt him, me. And who said I couldn’t huh?”

There was clear defeat on his expression, giving a roll of his eyes. “I said you couldn’t… Me…”

Freddy lets out a short chuckle, taking a step forward. “Although I do not appreciate the foul language, I am proud to say that I am in tip top condition.” He extends his large paw-like hand towards Aidan with a kind look in his eyes. “I am Freddy Fazbear, it is nice to meet you.”

Aidan stares up at him, memorized by the giant animatronic bear as he shakes his hand. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m Aidan. I… I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I can’t believe it either, or that I was even offline in the first place.” Freddy looks over at you, underlying affection in his gaze. “Yet you didn’t give up on me once, did you?”

You feel heat rise up to your cheeks. “I sure didn’t.”

“Of course you didn’t, because you are a wonderful friend.” Freddy’s sweet words make your cheeks only grow darker in color.

“Wonderful friend, huh?” Aidan raises a brow, his eyes zoning in on you. “Yeah, we can go with that.” He turns around, gesturing for the two of you to follow.

“Do you not agree?” Freddy asks, entering his home that was much cleaner compared to yours.

“Well… She has her moments.” Aidan shrugs his shoulders as you all go into the living room. “But there are times where I barely hear a word from her, like the past six months.”

You feel a twinge of guilt in your heart, your expression faltering. “I know… I’m sorry Aidan I-”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off, although it doesn’t feel fine. “Let’s not argue over this right now, not in front of Freddy. We can talk about it another time, with Eve and Nicole.”

You shift your weight from one side to the other, what were you thinking? Showing up unannounced like this after barely speaking to your best friends. It was inconsiderate of you and you hate the fact you’re realizing that now. You look up at Freddy, who can clearly tell the thick tension in the room.

“If you two need to talk about your problems, I have no issue with it.” The bear finally says, looking back at you with a soft expression. “I can wait in another room if need be. Communication is always important when it comes to a healthy friendship.”

Aidan is silent for a moment before a sigh falls from his lips. “No, no. There’s no need, I was being a dick.” He offers you a smile, settling down onto his large L-shaped couch and patting the spot besides him. “It can be hard to remind myself that you’re working through some things honestly. I just miss you, you know?”

You return the smile, one with gratitude. You sit next to him, feeling a sense of relief as you lean back into the familiar couch. “I miss you too, and I am really sorry. I’m the dick here, and I would like to talk about it, with all four of us together. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want.”

“I do feel… A bit mad.” Aidan says truthfully. “But not as much as when I finally saw you again.” He reaches his hand out to touch your shoulder, as your muscles tense together he stops himself, letting it fall back besides him.

You let out a small, shaky sigh. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Look at that!” Freddy chimes in. “You both handled that situation wonderfully, I am quite impressed.”

“Thanks Freddy.” Aidan’s grin widened with amusement. "It’s nice to actually have you here. Although… It is a bit weird.”

“I understand, it is ‘weird’ for me too. Not being in the Mega Pizzaplex… It is liberating yet strange all at once.” His eyes look around the room before falling back on to the two of you. “Now that we have that settled, would you like me to make you both something to eat?”

“Oh, um…” Aidan seems surprised by the kind gesture, shaking his head. “There’s no need. If anything, I kinda just want to get to know you.”

“Get to know me?” Freddy repeats. “That is kind of you, although I do not know how interesting it would be for you.”

“Psh, nonsense. You are literally a giant animatronic bear, what is there not to be interested in? Come on, take a seat Fredster.” He gestures towards the L-shape of the couch.

Freddy nods his head, although he almost seems cautious as he takes a seat, did Aidan throw him off by saying he wanted to get to know him? Although once the three of you began to engage in conversation you observed his easing tension.

You all spent a good amount of time conversing with one another, explaining to Aidan what happened when you brought Freddy back online and how he doesn’t remember what happened before the Mega Pizzaplex’s collapse. Before you know it the sun is beginning to set, you say your goodbyes to your dear friend, feeling a sense of relief that you were able to break the barrier and see him once again.

Taking the short journey back home the two of you enjoy the sky painted with hues of orange and gold, a serene conclusion to your day out with Freddy. Yet once you bring the van to a halt at a stop sign another vehicle pulls up beside you. Nervousness immediately courses through you, only to be amplified upon seeing the driver’s shocked expression. The driver raises his phone and you instinctively shield your face in an attempt to hide your identity.

The instant the stoplight switches to green, you take a left turn down the road. Your anxiety begins to spiral, clutching onto the steering wheel.

“Did that man just take a photo of me?” He inquires.

“Yeah, he sure did.” You let out a sigh. “Just what I needed.” It’s only your second day with Freddy, and already it feels like you’ve screwed things up.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Freddy’s curiosity laces his question.

“Well, I mean, kinda. I wasn’t really ready for people to know you’re back yet.” Your heart sinks to your stomach from the thought of unwanted attention..

“I understand that you wanted to wait on something like this, but perhaps it would be better to ‘rip the bandaid off’, as they say. Besides, you hid your face, correct?” His logic brings you a smidgen of comfort.

You give a nod of your head. “Yeah… I did.”

“That means that they only know that I am back, there is nothing linked to you yet.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet your heart still aches with the burden of the situation. You had to be more careful, just for a bit longer. You know Freddy doesn’t deserve being locked away inside of your home like some house cat, that wasn’t fair to him, even if he didn’t really care, you do.

“You’re right Freddy. Thanks.”

“Of course superstar, I assure you, everything will work out one way or another.”

The two of you drive back home in silence, you try your best to remind yourself that it was going to be okay but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The path ahead is uncertain, yet you try your best to hold onto the hope of everything being okay.

[blackjack-15]

okay i'm back 6 hours of sleep later

i'm still galled at claire having her friend say "we were together for 5 years and he never even cooked me dinner" and claire's response being "you deserve better. no one's ever made me dinner before"

no one -- i think it's gelled by getting more sleep than i have all week, so i'm a little more normal now -- no one talks like this in the show. the bear prides itself on very naturalistic dialogue. hesitation markers, people talking over each other, misspeaking, correcting themselves -- it's an intensely naturalistic approach to dialogue, and it makes the world feel very cohesive. it's worldbuilding in the most integral way. it's not there for "realism", it's there to create the world that the characters operate within

claire does not talk like this.

claire says stuff like "because you're the bear, and i remember you" in a supermarket at night. claire says stuff like "speaking of dead brothers, do you want to go to a party?" when a man is talking about how he enjoys talking about his brother's memory. claire says stuff like "you deserve better. no one's ever made me dinner before" when her friend is sobbing over a 5-year relationship ending.

claire speaks like she's on a CW show and has no idea that she's not.

and since the writers and directors are good and purposeful and consistent? this is on purpose. she's supposed to feel Outside of the show, and it's not because she's Exceptional. it's because she's a distraction.

anyway.

tina's killing it, she looks great, she sounds great

and gee i wonder why the song is about supporting and loving someone who needs them by their side...it's ebra, yes, most texturally, but...syd's sitting there at the bear, trying to do plates and menu, and she needs her partner

it's character work, and carmy's going through it. but i'm gonna love seeing those two come back together. it feels like a string stretched too tight for comfort

oh carmy...he is not logan but he's gonna pretend!

CARM'S PERFORMER SIDE COMES OUT

"that's the thing about logan. he doesn't give a f//k"

it's amazing how much easier he finds it to talk -- and how much charisma he has -- when he's not buried under the weight of being Carmen Berzatto. if there's one thing i've noticed over and over throughout this show, it's that carmy's at his best when there's no spotlight shining over him -- when he's not mikey's not-dead brother, or 'the bear', or Chef Carmen, or anything else; those quiet moments he's cooking with syd in the kitchen and no one else is around, when he's talking with marcus outside behind the beef, when he can finally hash things out with sugar on the floor of the office, when he's sitting in the car or basement with richie talking about life

"i got really good at managing sad, drunk people" "yeah i know that feeling" "i know you do" if this girl could have one EFFING emotional beat without making it all about herself, i would cheer.

"guess i missed this college thing, huh" AND THE SUBTEXT BECOMES TEXT. this whole thing is a glorified high school/college party. fireworks, drinking, i'm guessing a handful of drugs in the mix, crying drunks, the whole nine yards

carmy in a lot of ways skipped from kid brother to executive chef, emotionally, and what he's missing is, like in the last episode, being out in the world. he's technically speaking the best, the most impressive, and he has a lot of heart in what he cooks, because it's the only language he can reliably use to express what he's feeling.

the result is that he has very little middle ground. he's either spending hours scrubbing a single spot on the floor of the kitchen or he's using a fake identity to entertain at a party. he either comes back to the bear after a long day there to keep working or he disappears from it entirely. he needs balance. and he's not finding it here just yet -- especially not so long as he keeps up this all-or-nothing approach that has let him 1) become one of the best chefs in the world 2) become such an isolated and repressed person that it takes a case of mistaken identity to get him to smile at a party

oh. okay fake number thing? we're going onto another post for this holy crap