#it's a little angsty but not really

[cherrydreamer]

🎃Harringrove Harvest- Day 1- Candy Corn 🎃

It's been a few months since Starcourt. Long enough that most of the gossip and rumours have died down, but still far too soon for Billy Hargrove to be anywhere close to being released from hospital.

So that's where he is, battered and bruised and bed-bound, when Hopper comes to visit him- with El and Max in tow as usual- the police chief looking even more serious than usual when he sits down on the plastic chair beside Billy's bed and delivers the news that Neil Hargrove has skipped out of town, loading up his truck and disappearing into the middle of the night, leaving a whole stack of unpaid bills and a ton of trouble for Susan to have to deal with.

And it all hits Billy like a ton of bricks. Another punch right through a heart that's still not quite healed.

Cause, yeah, he knows that Neil Hargrove is an asshole with a cruel streak a mile wide, and he knows that he spent enough time hating his old man and wishing for something just like this to happen, but it's still not that simple. It's not black and white. Despite it all, the fear and the pain and the way Neil's voice is always in the back of Billy's mind, criticising and mocking him, despite all of that, Neil is his father. His Dad. And nothing can change the fact that he's still the guy that taught Billy how to throw a fastball and how to change the oil in his car and who told him he was proud of him when Billy made the basketball team.

He's still his Dad. And Billy still loves him.

And now he's fucked off. Without even a goodbye. Without even a word. Billy's been left behind. Forgotten about again. And it hurts.

So Billy's struggling.

As much as he's trying to stay calm, to shove all his emotion down and lock it away, he knows he's about to break. And then he catches sight of Max and El's faces, both of them with expressions that Billy can only read as pity, and it's just too much, and Billy can't stop himself from yelling at them to get out, pointing at the door when the words just catch in his throat and come out rough and raspy and barely understandable.

They get it. They leave.

But the Chief doesn't. He doesn't leave. If anything, he shuffles himself even closer, the chair squeaking against the linoleum floor, one hand hovering in the air just for a moment, before he thinks better of it and draws it back. And Billy tries his best to pull himself together, blinking back the tears he can feel gathering and swallowing down the ache in his throat and shaking his head to dislodge all those swirling, churning, painful thoughts that just won't stop coming.

He tries to deal with it. Because he needs to. He can be a man about this, he's got to be. He's on his own now and he'd better get used to it.

But then Hop's voice is softening, and this time when he reaches out, he doesn't stop until he's resting a hand on Billy's shoulder and squeezing firmly, "Hey, look Billy, I'm sorry, it's, uh, it's all kinds of messed up, what your old man did. But we'll work this out, OK, kid? You don't gotta worry. We'll help you out, whatever you need."

But Billy shakes his head, scrubbing angrily at the tears that have spilled over despite his attempts to hold them in and he says, "It's fine. I don't need...I'll be fine. I can look after myself."

Only for Hop to look at him, voice softer than Billy's ever heard it before, and say, "I know you can, Billy, but this time you don't have to."

And Billy knows that he's crumbling. He can feel it, that sudden rush of emotion all bubbling forth. But he can hold on, he can, he has to, he will. So he tears his eyes away from Hopper's face, not wanting to see any more fucking pity directed his way, but no matter where Billy looks, he can't help but see the evidence of the Chief's words.

It's there in the books on the table by his bed, a stack two feet high of sci-fi and fantasy novels, all loans from the kids, interspersed with some car magazines donated by Hopper himself. It's there in the Tupperware box beside them full of brownies made with love by Claudia Henderson, the sixth batch she's sent this month and these ones all dotted with candy corn, just because Billy made an off hand comment to her last week about how he was annoyed that he'd be stuck in hospital over Halloween. It's there in the tangle of soft blankets at the foot of his bed, the ones Joyce had brought in for him when he'd grumbled about the itchy hospital sheets, the same ones she'd tucked around him so carefully when he first started to shiver, and then untucked so swiftly when he started thrashing in his sleep.

It's there too, in the Walkman Billy always has by his side, the surprise gift from Steve, alongside a collection of tapes, even though Billy still hasn't swapped the first one out yet. How can he, when it's a mixtape that Steve made especially for him? A terrible mix, really, a culture clash of Tears for Fears and Judas Priest and The Beach Boys and Ratt and Cyndi fucking Lauper and a whole mess of others, every single one meaning something to the two of them.

It's there in so many other things too. Less obvious ones, like the nurses always knocking quietly before coming into his room because Hopper had a stern word after he saw Billy flinch away from a loud bang; and how there's a stubborn, possibly permanent, scuff mark on the floor from all the times that someone has dragged the uncomfortable visitors' chair closer to the bed, closer to Billy.

And it's there in the way that El and Max are crowding at the door, faces smushed against the glass, almost falling over themselves to come back to Billy's bedside the moment he spots them and beckons them over.

It's there. All over. Proof that, for whatever fucking reason, the people here do care about him. For him. That Hopper isn't talking out of his ass. That Billy can ask for help and know that he'll get it.

It's a lot. A lot to realise, especially all at once. So it takes Billy a moment. But then he finally looks back at Hopper and at Max and El, at the expression they all share, the one that Billy now sees for the concern that it always was. And not just concern, but something more. Something Billy hasn't seen directed his way in a long time.

Care. Affection. And love.

Billy knows he's about to break. He can't stop it. He doesn't even try. And there's only a second, if that, between the first sob catching in his throat and the three pairs of arms that wrap around him and pull him into a hug. It's awkward, really, the bed is too small for them all and Max's elbow is sharp and El's hair is tickling his cheek, and Hopper's ripe armpit is a little too close to Billy's nose to be overly pleasant. But Billy doesn't mind at all, especially not when Hop's voice rumbles out against his ear, "You'll be OK, son. You'll be OK. We've got you."

Because this time, Billy lets himself believe it.

[egophiliac]

innocently logging in to look at the Twst schedule for May like

[doctorsiren]

paint it over

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[celestialwrites]

six word dialogue prompts ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “you chose her, i knew it.”

♡ “stop making me love you, idiot!”

♡ “i wish our fate could change.”

♡ “remember how much he loved her?”

♡ “i refute to let this change.”

♡ “why must all good things leave?”

♡ “you loved him, just not enough.”

♡ “i wish i died back then.”

♡ “her face haunts my dreams forever.”

♡ “to the stars and back, love.”

♡ “never forget what i said, okay?”

♡ “you’re a dumbass, please know that.”

♡ “i’ll be waiting, keep your promise.”

♡ “finding love like that, it’s impossible.”

♡ “thanks, for giving me the will.”

♡ “you’re too good for this world.”

♡ “i’m too dashingly gorgeous to die.”

♡ “enough! stop pretending like you care.”

♡ “please don’t ever lose your heart.”

♡ “as long as i have you.”

♡ “don’t make me regret not dying.”

♡ “people are simple, gone too soon.”

♡ “i never ever regretted knowing you.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS<3

[juicyyyboxxx]

What if we just... didn't like 'em like that?

[altruisticalastor]

Not me spending way too much time thinking about reader!wife aus and the guilt Alastor might've felt after he died. Not about the things he's done, heavens no, he doesn't feel the least bit guilty about that! But he does regret that his beloved will find out about his...activities upon his death and the mess she'll have to endure because of it. Not to mention the scorn she'll no doubt deal with from their neighbors and community for having been married to a monster like him. Indeed, he does feel bad about that. Her life will no doubt be worse off because of his absence.

Oh and did I mention that I'm totally picturing a reader!wife who flinches when someone knocks on a door? Because the knocks echo in her mind and suddenly she's back listening to the steady knocking on her and Alastor's front door and answering it to see an officer who's face she can't recall. But she remembers all too vividly the despair of learning of Alastor's death. Oh yes, she went to Hell long before her actual death~

Just me thinking about totally normal things yup!

OH MY… GOD….

[rottmnt-brainrot-hours]

I connected the dots (ie I saw two rottmnt dtiys challenges involving cars and decided to combine them)

AU crossover time! Featuring @angelpuns's Leo and @onionninjasstuff's Donnie and Mikey.

They saw Barbie in theaters, robbed the US government, and got ice cream afterward.

(In my mind this is post villain pb+j "redemption", meaning they're still gleefully destructive, but now also get along with their long lost family.)

Bonus:

[gatorlovebot]

read my other king!simon blurbs here.

simon was never really one to listen to his court. his advisors were mostly there for show because simon did what simon wanted, as simple as that. his advisors and men could give their opinions and guidance all they wanted but simon was the king, no one else. ultimately he was the one that made the decisions.

but sometimes he did listen to them, sometimes because he actually agreed with what they were saying or to just get them to shut up when it came to more inconsequential things. but this, to you, did not seem that inconsequential.

the castle had been preparing for the arrival of the royal family from the south for weeks. the visit was for political purposes, the southern king wanting to form an alliance with simon. simon wasn’t too concerned when it came to the far away kingdoms. when he first took the throne his main concern was power and domination, waging wars with kingdoms to gain more rule and land. but now, as he was getting older, he was more focused on ruling his kingdom. visits from other royals were few and far between but they were still big affairs.

from the day you had become appointed to stand by simon you had heard talks of him taking a wife, his advisors attempting to persuade him to share the throne with someone else, potentially another royal, to grow the kingdom. but simon stood firm in his decision over the years to never take a wife, especially not another royal. he could never picture a union with another royal being genuine, especially when his advisors kept assuring him he didn’t even have to like his potential queen, they were more concerned with the political implications. but simon didn’t care about politics or gaining more power, when it came to a wife he wanted someone to love, someone to love him, someone to be proud to stand next to.

but the day before the southern royal family was set to arrive you felt like alternative timeline.

“she’s beautiful, she’s educated, she’s young, and she has no prospect as high as your caliber, your highness.” simon’s advisor spoke of the king’s daughter, the princess.

you’re alarmed, this conversation isn’t going how they usually do. when simon’s men bring up potential wives for him, he usually shuts down the conversation immediately. just protest after angry protest until eventually his men just drop the conversation entirely for the next few months. but for whatever reason this time around simon seems curious about the whole thing.

“what did you have in mind?” he asks, and you try your best to hide your shock but you can imagine your eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of their sockets. he can’t be fucking serious.

and his advisor seems shocked as well, “well, your majesty, we thought that we would start simple since this isn’t something you usually do. a walk around the royal gardens, and then if that goes well, maybe a lunch. just the two of you.”

simon ponders it for a few moments and your body goes tense and rigid in that time. “sounds fine to me.”

your jaw drops.

“well done, then, your highness. the southern king has approved of this potential courting, so everything is set.”

you tried your best to get out of it, why would simon need you to accompany him on his little courting date? but, you were expected to accompany him to everything and without a valid excuse there was no way of getting out of it. you walked a respectable distance behind simon and the princess, along with one of simon’s guards. you tried to not look at the way they easily strolled through the gardens, arm in arm in, tried not to listen to her angelic giggle as she laughed at simon’s awful jokes, even one that he had told you earlier that morning. but you couldn’t help yourself, they were the only thing you could focus on.

it all seemed like such a cruel joke, making you question what you had done to deserve this. you let your emotions get the best of you as a tear falls down your cheek. you quickly reach up to wipe it away. “here,” the guard directed, holding out a handkerchief.

although the gesture was kind, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the whole thing. “oh, thank you, it must be the pollen getting to me.” you tried to convince.

his smile told you otherwise, “no problem, my dear, no need for explanations.”

when the princess and simon halted further up the path of the gardens so she could lean over to smell one of the flowers, the guard nudged you with his elbow. he extended his arm out to you and you took advantage of the connection, linking your arm with his, feeling grounded for the first time since stepping out into the gardens.

it wasn’t very appropriate, physical touch with one of simon’s guards, but it was ultimately harmless. the guard was just being considerate of your feelings, which you couldn’t help but indulge in. and if you held onto the guards arm even tighter when a sour look crossed simon’s face when he spotted the two of you out of the corner of his eye, well that’s nobody’s business.

[54625]

people can keep coming up with angsty headcanons about why qPac passes out (crashes) so much- like he's got low blood pressure from not eating properly or he's exhausted from not sleeping properly- and I accept that

but to me he's just that one character in a kids movie that keeps getting injured as a gag. like he's just constantly tripping over roots and whacking his head off the ground, birds just constantly seem to drop rocks specifically on his head, people just keep inexplicably slamming doors into his face without realising it. qPac is just such a cartoon character to me I'm sorry

[nixoon-again]

The idle hum of the fluorescent lights is all that resonates in his sensitive ears. 

Distantly, he recognizes that he's been sitting in the same position for too long. Long enough that the light seeping through the  window somewhere to his right isn't as warm and golden in its hue anymore. He realizes that night time has fallen upon the bustling city of Station Square and perhaps it's late enough for everyone to be leaving for their homes and settling in for sleep after a nice warm meal.

Even more distantly, if that is even possible for his current almost disassociated situation, he realizes that he should be asleep too. Of course his rest doesn't have much to do with the time and the shift in the sky's colours or the quiet city just beyond these walls. He never fell into slumber with the sun, working late at nights for hours without breaks sometimes left him no opportunity for sleep at all. He doesn't mind it though, he likes working. Even if it costs him a bit of rest, he'd rather have his work done sooner than later. Maybe that's what he needs right now. Something to work on will be much better to distract his mind than the buzzing of the lights.

Unfortunately, as much as the idea entices him, he can't leave for his workshop just yet.

He doubts he'd be able to.

If his trembling legs don't give in under the weight of his body then the soul crushing grasp of something icy and sharp around his heart will certainly stop him.

So he stays where he is and listens to the buzz of the lights, of the footsteps as people walk by thin in numbers, as a clock ticks away in a distance — indicating that hours have passed but Tails can't get himself to count the ticks or look at the clock. He has worked hard to concentrate on the fluorescent lights, on their inner workings, their first discovery, their usage and why they're being used in hospital waiting rooms and everything he can think of about them on the top of his head in an attempt to ground himself but he's afraid if he looks at the time, he'll lose his progress and will be back where he begun; on the verge of curling up in a ball of fluff and crying his heart out until he passes out.

The waiting room falls deadly silent after a while — no more footsteps entertain his hearing range and Tails is afraid he's the last one left waiting for updates from the doctors.

This is a bit odd for him too, he hasn't been in this position many times aside from a few where one of their battles did get pretty out of hand but despite all of the adventures, they don't regularly show up at hospitals. Let alone sit in waiting rooms for hours on end, hoping and praying that someone will walk out of that door and tell him that everything is fine, he's fine, he's safe—

Do they even know he's here? 

Probably not.

Then again, technically, he isn't supposed to be here either. 

For all the doctors and nurses know, he's supposed to be asleep under the weight of all those painkillers in his hospital room.

But there's not much sleeping he can do, can he? 

Not when he doesn't know if Sonic's breathing again or—

Nope. No. Okay, let's not do that. Back to the lights. There's a moth that has started bumping into it repeatedly and he briefly wonders where it got in from since the windows appear to be closed and all. Briefly, since he doesn't ponder it for long. He lets his tired eyes — exhausted, red, getting heavier with every passing second and threatening to dampen — trail the insect's movements. It bumps into the light, circles about afterwards and then tries again and keeps repeating this cycle and maybe it's enough to distract him, even for a while. He's enraptured with the small creature's naïveté. 

He thinks, in a sense, he isn't that different from the moth. 

He just doesn't know if the waiting room is his light or is it his brother?

He's afraid to say it's the latter. 

Tails loves Sonic. 

He loves his brother more than anything in this world and he's been so sure that Sonic loves him just as much if not more too because that's just who they are. They are Sonic and Tails, they're brothers not bound by blood but something stronger — an unbreakable thread binding them both. They're a cosmic truth.

Yet Tails finds himself sitting here and questioning himself of that bond.

Sonic and Tails are to each other what a moth is to a flame.

They love each other.

But Tails is starting to see the flame get too close.

They'll burn.

And Tails is okay with burning if it's for Sonic, don't get him wrong. He'll do anything for Sonic. He's burnt for Sonic before, the bandages covering half his face and his right arm should be enough proof.

He's just afraid of burning Sonic.

He's afraid they've reached that point today.

Sonic is hurt because of him.

He's supposed to be the smart one, isn't he? Three hundred IQ and he couldn't have realized this sooner? Did he really need for today to come pass to know what the unbreakable bond truly means? Could he have spared Sonic the pain?

Tears prick at his eyes but Tails doesn't think he deserves to cry.

Not after what he did today.

Not after being the reason he almost lost his brother today.

(Worst of all; he still doesn't know if Sonic is okay.)

Tails finds it difficult to breathe around the lump in his throat.

Pathetic. Cry baby.

His own voice echoes in his mind, taunting.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself. He knows the solution to the moth and flame problem but he's certain Sonic will never agree to it. Sonic is too kind, too good, too generous. It will be cruel of Tails to know how to protect his brother and not do it, Sonic doesn't deserve that. 

Tails hurt Sonic.

The flame burnt the moth.

In order to not hurt Sonic anymore, Tails will simply snuff out the flame.

Even if his brother disagrees with him, Tails knows it's for the best.

(Quietly, distantly, his own heart disagrees with him too but he's too scared to listen to him.)

Another half an hour passes before a doctor walks out of the emergency room.

There's a hint of surprise on her face upon seeing him there — since he's supposed to be resting in his room and not be here — but she quickly moulds her expression into a more professional one before she delivers the news to him.

“He's awake.”

Even though Tails smiles, his ocean eyes tired and out of tears, he doesn't visit Sonic.

He doesn't visit Sonic for a long time.

[dreamwatch]

STWG daily drabble - 28/09/23

Prompt: horse

Warnings: mentions of chronic pain

This is the longest thing I have ever shared, and the weirdest thing I have ever written. I have literally zero idea where this came from. It's not beta'd, apologies for typos etc. This is just shy of 2.5k words, so yeah... not so Drabble actually.

****

“So, what’s on your mind today, Eddie?”

He sees Doctor Pearcey every Wednesday at 2pm. Has done now for two months. And it’s the first thing she says to him every time he sits down. What’s on your mind today, Eddie? He’s responded in various ways. With anger. With humour. With distrust. On one particularly memorable day, with silence, which Doctor Pearcey matched in spades. The two of them sat there for an hour and didn’t say a single word. Eddie wanted to peel his skin off about ten minutes into it.

He’s in more pain than usual today, has a lower tolerance for her psychobabble mumbo jumbo, so he’s already looking to derail the session before he gets in the room.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” Eddie asks her.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Hmm, couple of times.”

There’s silence for a minute or so. It’s like they’re playing therapy chicken, who gives in and speaks first? It’s usually him.

“I like them. Like how fast they are, you know? How free you feel on them.” He digs his thumb into the leather of the armchair, leaving little crescent nail marks.

“And what’s got you thinking about that today?”

The beautiful purple Kawasaki he passed on his way here today would be the easy answer. But when did he ever do anything easy?

“Wayne hates them. I’ve been wanting one for years, but he begged me not to. Asked me to wait till I was twenty one. I think he thought I would just grow out of it.” 

“And have you?”

“Fuck no. I want one more than ever.”

She waits.

“I’m twenty one next week, and I won’t be getting a motorcycle because my leg is fucked, and I can’t twist or move properly.” He doesn’t bother hiding the bitterness. “It doesn’t matter, I mean, it’s whatever at this point, just another thing I can’t do, add it to the fucking pile, right?”

He changes the subject and she follows along behind waiting for breadcrumbs. Eventually their time comes to an end and he’s desperate to get out.

“Do you trust me, Eddie?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You work for the spook agency that started this fucking nightmare. So, no, not really.”

She smiles back. “That’s fair.” She walks to her desk and scribbles a note before handing it to him. Eddie takes it from her like it’s poisonous.

“Meet me at that address on Sunday. Two PM. I’ll be waiting.”

And that is definitely not how the sessions usually end.

——

Wayne is working so Steve offers to take him. And Eddie isn’t going to say no to spending some time with him, especially when he’s walking into the unknown. Although the unknown appears to be…

“A horse sanctuary? Why the fuck does she want to meet you at a horse sanctuary?”

“Maybe she’s going to shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

Steve slaps him against the chest with the back of his hand. “Dude.”

“Sorry.” 

He sees her standing at a fence watching a couple of horses wander around the paddock. The ground is a little rough below his feet and his leg has been a complete nightmare all week, so Steve walks with him, hand gently resting at Eddie’s elbow as he traverses the uneven ground with his cane. It makes him grateful and fucking furious all at the same time. Such is his life these days.

“You came. I’m glad,” she says, smiling brightly.

“Well, my curiosity door was opened,” replies Eddie and Steve stifles a laugh beside him.

Steve heads back to the car, squeezes Eddie’s elbow gently, before saying goodbye to the Doc. She watches the exchange intently, and Eddie feels entirely scrutinised. He hasn’t spoken about Steve in the sessions, has no intention of doing so and the last person he would want to know about it is someone that works for the fucking feds.

“So, why am I here, exactly?”

“I thought you might like to get out of that stuffy office for a change. You never seem very comfortable.”

Eddie laughs. “Uh huh, and what is it that gave you the impression I’d be comfortable in a field full of horses?”

She shrugs. “Humour me.”

See, it was shit like that that drove Eddie crazy. Humour me. It’s Sunday. Right now he could be lying on his bed playing guitar, reading, hanging out with Steve. He could be jerking off. All of which was preferable to standing in a field full of horseshit.

“Okay, well I’m not in a humorous mood, so I’m going to leave you to your equine endeavours.” He turns to leave.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. Before you go. Will only take a minute.” The Doc waves at a stable hand and a few minutes later Eddie is face to face with a beautiful white horse.

“I swear to god, if you tell me his name is Shadowfax…”

She laughs. “No, this is Tony. Tony, meet Eddie.” Tony whinnies, nodding his head up and down, his mane blowing gently in the wind. Eddie smiles. God damn her.

Eddie reaches over the fence to stroke Tony. This gorgeous, graceful animal, and it’s called fucking Tony.

“He’s beautiful. How come he’s here?”

“He was a race horse, I believe. But he was slow, didn’t make his owners any money. So now he gets to live here and lead a good life.”

“Doesn’t he miss racing? Like, aren’t they bred for that? What does he do all day if he can’t race anymore?”

“It wasn’t meant to be. But he’s patient, and kind and now he helps people learn to ride. And he’s very, very good at that.” She turns to face him, one arm hooked over the fence. “You said you were disappointed at not being able to ride a motorcycle? Correct?”

Where the fuck was this going? 

“Yeah… ?”

“Why ride a steel horse when you can ride the real thing?”

Eddie splutters. “You have to be kidding me?” She just keeps smiling. He stares at her, open mouthed and wide eyed. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m fucking serious,” she says, with a glint of mischief. “You wanted the freedom and the excitement of riding. Well, I’m offering it to you. Or, Tony’s offering it to you, really.”

He looks between her and Tony. “Did you miss the part about my leg being fucked? How the hell am I even supposed to get up there? And what if I fall? No, absolutely not.”

The Doc gives him a long hard stare. “Do you trust me?” she ask him.

“No.”

“The sanctuary has a programme for disabled riders. Tony is the best of the best. You’d be perfectly safe. Come on, Eddie. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“This was… very nice, I guess, of you to think about this, but no. Sorry. It’s not the same as a bike, like at all. I have control of the bike, my bike can’t just run off and start jumping over fences and shit.”

“No, but your bike’s not smart. Tony is smart. He’s kind. He feels his rider, he knows what they need, knows when they’re scared. He fills in the gaps, takes the lead when a rider needs it, hands them back control when they don’t. He can guide you. Look after you. Your bike can’t do that.”

He feels his resolve wane. He sighs. Animals, they get him every time.

“People get hurt riding horses.”

“Sure, but they don’t call motorbikes donorcycles for nothing, Eddie.” Touché.

He shakes his head, this is such a stupid idea, but eventually that little pixie voice in his head just says fuck it, and within fifteen minutes he’s wearing a very unflattering helmet, climbing a mounting block and being helped into the saddle on Tony’s back.

He feels like he’s going to slip off the other side, and every time Tony moves his head forward toward the ground Eddie panics because it feels like he’ll just lean forward and drop like a rock to the ground. It's incredibly disorienting.

Eddie grips the reins so hard he sees his knuckles go white until the instructor shows him how to hold them properly. They show him how to guide Tony but ultimately Tony is doing all the work here, Eddie is just along for the ride. 

He’s led around the paddock, and yeah, he feels stupid at first, self conscious sitting up in the air for everyone to see. But eventually he gets into the swing of it, and it’s… nice. Nerve wracking, but nice.

They’re going at walking speed, he can feel the rhythmic sway of Tony’s body, and it’s comforting. Why is it comforting? It’s not exactly the Kentucky Derby, but he can’t stop himself from grinning.

Eddie knows fuck all about horses, less than fuck all actually, but if he didn’t know better he’d say that Tony was enjoying himself. And as much as he hates that she’s right, he feels at peace. Feels like he trusts this animal, who he literally just met, but who seems to be having a ball wandering around with this asshole on his back.

“Wanna pick it up a bit?” asks the instructor and Eddie’s about to say ‘fuck no’ when Tony comes to a stop. Like he knows Eddie’s not sure. Eddie strokes along Tony’s thick, white mane, and pats his shoulder. 

“Eurgh, yeah, shit, okay,” he says before leaning forward and whispering in Tony’s ear, “look after me, okay? Cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing up here.” Tony answers with a swooping nod of the head and then they’re off.

They’re barely going any faster as Tony trots around the paddock, but Eddie can definitely feel the difference. The soft, comforting sway has been replaced by a harder jolt. He’s going to pay for it tomorrow, can already feel it in his hips and back, and he hasn’t got the strength in his leg to properly push up from the stirrups, but it doesn’t matter.

The last time he was on a motorcycle he was seventeen, and it belonged to a friend of Reefer Rick’s. He was riding pillion and they were going way over the speed limit, and he’d never felt more alive, more free. He was young enough and dumb enough to think he’d never get hurt. He was invincible at seventeen. He wasn’t even a little bit scared of falling off. The folly of youth. 

In three short years the folly of youth has been replaced with constant dread and a little bit of paranoia.

This isn’t the same as that careless charge up the highway, not by a long shot, but it’s exciting in it’s own way, like going on a roller coaster instead of walking through an alternate universe.

He feels at peace. A moment in time when he’s not having to think about doctors appointments, worrying about Wayne, worrying about his future. His life has got so small since March. The kids are at school and he’s not, but he can’t work so he spends endless unfilled hours at home, waiting for other people to have space for him.

The constant churn in his mind slows, his thoughts empty, his worries silence. 

They go back to a steady walk, Tony’s body lilting from side to side, a gentle rock. Eddie already loves him. He’s a fucking sap. Horses? Rich people pets? No way man, not for him. But this guy, this is Eddie’s guy now.

As they turn in the paddock he sees Steve leaning over the fence, grinning.

“Nice hat!” Asshole.

Eddie flips him off but Steve just laughs, sunglasses pushed back up on his head. Steve can read him like a book, and Eddie knows he can see it. The complicated emotions today is bringing out in him. The joy and the excitement and the little bit of sadness. Steve raises his eyebrows, that little silent okay? Eddie smiles shyly and nods in response. They’ll talk properly later, when Eddie is trying to unpack everything.

It’s over too soon. Eddie’s helped down and fuck, yeah he’s in a little pain now, but Jesus it was so worth it. He pats Tony, strokes his neck, tells him what a beautiful boy he is, and Tony leans over nudges his nose against the side of Eddie’s face. There is a conversation happening between them, just this little quiet acknowledgement of something. Eddie doesn’t want to leave him. He feels… changed, weirdly. Like it was spiritual. Like something inside him got cracked open just a little.

“So?”

Doctor Pearcey stands behind him, looking pretty pleased with herself. 

He tilts his head to the side, makes a big show of it. “Yeah, it was okay.” Eddie knows she sees through his bullshit. They’ll be talking about this next week. No need to go through it all now.

They head back to the car, Steve at his elbow again, and Doctor Pearcey hands him a card with the sanctuary number on. “Just in case you’d like to come back.”

He does. Wayne is going to enjoy giving him shit, and he doesn’t even want to think of the number of jockey jokes in his future, but he really does want to do this again.

The car ride is quiet on the way home, just the sound of some top forty shit in the background, but Eddie’s mind is elsewhere. He feels still, his head is clear and quiet. Ridiculously relaxed.

“How’s your ass?” asks Steve.

Eddie grins. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

“Jesus Christ.” But he’s laughing. They’re both laughing.

“So, you want to do it again? We can make it regular, I’ll just make sure Keith doesn’t schedule me for Sundays.”

Eddie stares at the side of Steve’s face. This guy. This fucking guy. 

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would.” Steve looks studiously out at the road, hands firmly at ten and two. “I’d do anything for you.”

Eddie feels like he’s skipped a breath, but tentatively reaches his hand across the console and pokes at Steve’s thigh. Steve takes a hand off the wheel, reaches blindly to find Eddie’s, gives it a little squeeze before letting go. They don’t look at each other.

He leans back in his seat, imagines Tony, galloping, mane trailing behind him in the wind. Just beautiful.

Why the fuck did they call him Tony?

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Childhood friends to lovers AU

I’m thinking a situation similar to Princess and the Frog; Nampheung worked for the Theerapanyakuls, so her sons naturally grew up alongside theirs. They aren’t there all the time, but occasionally, when Pat can’t watch them for whatever reason, they come alone with her. Mrs. T doesn’t mind the company, and Korn is busy working, it can be their little secret.

This has more of an impact on Porchay; Porsche is older than him, so depending on when this takes place, he could be in school a lot of the time, while Porchay is brought along with his mother. She’s paid well, but not well enough to support a full-time nanny for her youngest, and she doesn’t want a stranger raising him, anyway.

Nampheung starts as just a maid. Her and Mrs. T become friends, of course, are maybe even pregnant at the same time with Porsche and Kinn. They support each other through the pregnancies, and joke about how rambunctious the boys are, how much trouble they’ll get up to when they’re born. Then Mrs. T has Kim a few years later, and Nampheung has Porchay a few years after that. (Maybe she was hired to help Mrs. T take care of the house while she was pregnant with Tankhun? And then just. Never ended her contract.)

So the boys grow up together. The mothers are best friends, as close as sisters, and their boys are the same… in the beginning. Tankhun becomes a wild little thing, and Kinn, while seemingly mature in his efforts to please his father, has a fiery temper, and Porsche is the same. Kim and Porchay are like little blessing to make up for them; Kim is quiet, keeps to himself, rarely cried as a baby and even as he ages, he was always very withdrawn. Not in a bad way; he was just soulful, a still waters run deep kind of person. Porchay is the complete opposite. He was a little bundle of joy that everyone immediately falls in love with.

Kinn and Porsche are the worst of enemies and the best of friends, depending on the day. It’s honestly impressive how quickly they can go from playing to fighting to playing again, pulling hair and screaming one moment, and hugging the next. Meanwhile Kim is like the shadow to Porchay’s sunshine, always lingering around him, just out of reach.

This continues into teen-and-adulthood. Kinn and Porsche have a fiery on-again off-again relationship all throughout high school. Meanwhile Kim and Chay are steady; never more than friends, both of them always happy to be with the other without asking for more. Chay eventually realizes he likes boys too; Kim realizes he doesn’t like anyone as much as he likes Chay, but that’s Chay. And since he has no one else to compare to, Kim doesn’t notice the difference between friend love and romantic love, especially since Chay has just. Always been there. He doesn’t have a before-Chay to compare too, either.

There’s always still going to be that class divide between Obscenely Rich Employer and Employee, no matter how much they all care about each other. They only see each other occasionally when they’re older because Kinn and Porsche go to the very affluent private schools, and their afternoons are filled with extracurriculars that take up their time, while Porsche and Chay go the public schools close to home, and can’t afford many after school activities. There’s no jealously (most of the time…) but that is something that’s always there.

Although Kim tries to meet Chay halfway; as soon as he sees Chay’s longing looks at his guitar, Kim starts teaching him what he learns at his lessons whenever he can. And sometimes they sneak out at night together, looking for trouble, which Chay always gets them out of with his innocent smiles and sunny disposition that no one can stay mad at for long.

They stay up all night talking, lying side by side in Kim’s bed, closer than they need to be because it’s honestly massive but they’re so used to being close that personal space is never a question. They gossip about their brother’s latest spat, laughing at how dumb they are, and Kim squishes Chay’s cheeks whenever he gives him that big smile, because Kim doesn’t like anyone to touch him but he likes touching Chay, and in the morning Chay won’t sneak home because the kittisawat’s are always welcome in the theerapanyakul household.

Eventually Kim will wise up to the fact that the reason he’s never liked anyone else is because he’s already been in love with Chay this whole time, and he’ll panic about it a little bit. Maybe talk to Kinn or Porsche for advice. Kinn gives him generic How To Gay advice, but then Porsche walks in and tells him to stop being dumb and just ask Chay out already, because come on. They were really the last to know about their own feelings. They’re practically dating already.

[secret-citrus]

It honestly gets me so teary that JD still has so many pictures of his brothers and so much memorabilia from their band, decades after they'd last seen each other. He really loves them.

[the-sleepless]

I finished it!!!!!!

Probably the best artwork I’ve done to date-

I hope you guys enjoy my silly little art- fjdhdhdhsh-

[maenecoon]

i may or may not have a reverse kidnapping fic idea that i've been brewing up the past week or so -- just deciding how things will go and how i should proceed with some stuff but here's a teeny snippet!

(for context: chay is a low-level gang member that has been hired to kidnap wik. chay doesn't know wik is kimhant theerapanyakun, aka third son of the most powerful crime syndicate in thailand. so that's fun!!)

Chay and Wik, trapped in a three-by-two-meter space.

Soon, the engine starts with a low hum, and the truck starts to move. Wik’s slump figure, seated against the side of the wall, lolls his head toward the metal flooring. Without a thought Chay’s fingers curl around his idol’s unnecessarily-toned bicep, tipping him to rest against Chay’s shoulders instead.

“You're too pretty to get hurt, P’Wik,” Chay mutters, as though he isn't part of the group who’s put Wik in this situation to begin with. Sighing a soft apology, he picks up the rope and starts attempting to tie.

Wik’s hands are rough, the backs of them littered with veins bulging in ways enough to make Chay blush, the soft of his palms filled with guitar callouses and other blisters. He holds them for a few moments, letting himself indulge in the fantasy of itー it's all so fucked up that this is the way he's finding out how Wik’s hand feels against his.

Shame burns bright and hot in the space between their palms and Chay jerks his hand away, moving to grip his wrists instead. Still he struggles to hold them together with one hand as he loops the rope around them with his other hand, fingers clumsy and slow.