#like jesus christ can you make it less convenient | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

techmomma · 2 months

Text

Driving Tips

As I understand it, there's actually quite a few of you on here who either don't drive or are very new at driving, or are very scared of driving! So as someone who has been driving for 15 years, here are some tips from good ol' Steph in no particular order.

Put more space between you and the car ahead of you than you think you need. Especially on freeways/highways/motorways. I grew up with the rule of "for every ten mph, add another car space." So if I'm going 30mph, then I should have at LEAST 3 car's worth of space between me and the car in front of me. I don't know how that translates to kph but I'm sure there's something similar.

I extend this even to coming to a stop. I try to leave at least a car space even when stopping at intersections.

The reason for this, if you remember from driving school, is to be able to come to a safe stop for your vehicle. But did you know it's not just for you? It's ALSO for the people BEHIND you, who may still be up your ass. If you come to a sudden stop, they're going to ram right into your backside. The space to slow down gives them time to slow down too.

If you've never had to come to a hard stop, YOU NEED MORE SPACE THAN YOU THINK YOU DO TO COME TO A FULL STOP. YOUR CAR WILL JUST KEEP GOING IF YOU WERE GOING FAST ENOUGH.

See this bad boy? The little circular mirror?

If your side mirrors don't come with one of these, get one. They will let you check your blind spot without twisting around in your seat--meaning you're not taking your eyes off of the road ahead of you so you can see behind you! They're literally like $5 and you can get them almost everywhere from convenience stores to supermarkets to auto shops.

It also helps with parking!!

The more scared you are, the worse you are going to drive. Like yes, don't be lackadaisical, you're driving a machine that weighs several tons. But the more afraid you are, the more you're going to overreact and overcompensate when things go wrong and in a car, keeping a cool head is going to be one of your biggest strengths if something goes wrong. Panicking will make things worse. You need to take active steps to stay cool when driving.

One of the ways you can do that is trying to find things you do enjoy about driving. You're controlling a scientific marvel full of incredible math and physics at play! Find ways to turn driving into something you can enjoy and it'll get easier to keep a cool head in it, rather than focusing on the myriad of ways it can kill you.

A horse can kill you in a myriad of ways too. But so can a dedicated duck. Your car ain't special.

In the same vein, I approach cars kind of like riding horses: yes this thousand pound animal can kill me, but also if it moves wrong it will break all of its bones, so while I need to respect its power, I also need to remain calm and take charge, to keep both the horse and myself safe. Do it. Anthropomorphize your car.

Another way is learning how to take care of your car, yourself! There are countless youtube videos that can teach you how to change a tire, emergency supplies you should keep in your car, how to change the oil, etc.. Taking care of your car helps turn it from something scary to something you start to understand inside and out--and knowledge helps us be less afraid.

In the same way, take some time to sit in your car, pull out the owner's manual, and read it over. Learning all of the buttons and what-does-what also helps give you a sense of control over your car.

Wear your fucking seatbelt jesus christ the laws have been in place for 50 fucking years (in America) for a reason

Figure out the best driving setup that works for you and keeps you the most comfortable and relaxed. For some people, this means putting on some tunes. For some, it means turning them off. Adjust your chair so that you have the best view around you, of your mirrors, while not putting strain on your back.

Keep your eyes ahead but take glances at cars to either side of you. There are two kinds of driving, called "reactive" and "proactive" driving. Reactive driving means only reacting to whatever immediately comes up, proactive driving means anticipating things that could come up. So for example, I'm driving down the highway. The car to my side is driving faster, at such a rate that if they continue, they will hit the car in front of them. If there is space in front of you, that probably means they're going to try to merge into your lane! (And probably suddenly, without using heir turn signal!) I slow down in those cases, to give this manic plenty of room to merge.

This also looks like keeping an eye not just on the car ahead of you, but several cars ahead of you. If you notice red lights in the distance, that means people are slowing down or coming to a stop, and you should be preparing to do so, too!

Just let people merge, man. If you're moving forward, you lose nothing by letting people merge with you. I don't put a "limit" on the number of people who "can" merge into my lane--if you keep enough space between you and the car ahead of you, there's always enough room to merge. There's literally nothing to be gained by not letting someone merge, besides being called an asshole.

And I mean. How many times have you tried to merge and fucking nobody would let you? And then some saint of a person finally lets you in before you miss your turn and you want to kiss their feet. Just imagine how many people will call you a saint for letting them merge. Imagine how many days are made when you let people merge.

In addition, though you probably won' reap the benefits, letting people merge helps keep the flow of traffic going and prevents backups and slow-downs! You, personally, can help clear up traffic that's come to a crawl. I have watched it happen in my rearview mirror, just by letting people merge.

(Think of how many accidents you also prevent because someone isn't panicking as they try to get to merge and trying to make sudden decisions under high pressure.)

Obviously don't do it FREQUENTLY if you don't have to: but try to learn how to drive one-handed. Being able to do so (briefly) means you know what to do if an emergency comes up and you need one of your hands. (Secret: it's your palm, not your fingers, for one-handed driving.)

Look, I KNOW the temptation is fucking real. I know. I KNOW. But do not brakecheck people. It is way more dangerous for you than it is for the shithead up your ass. It doesn't even work most of the time, if they're gonna get on your ass, they're gonna get on your ass, and brakechecking them is just gonna make them even pissier about it.

I do, recommend, however, going slower. Ease back on the gas~ This will also piss them off but it will make them more likely to just get fed up and pass you. If they can't pass you then you get to drink in the exasperation on their face in your rearview mirror.

When it comes to seeing other Problem Drivers on the road, there's kind of two main schools of thought, which is to either keep them ahead of you or put them behind you. I personally like to keep Problem Drivers ahead of me, if I can help it. I'd rather be able to see a problem and be able to react to it than put it behind me and then the Problem driver slams into me from behind because I had no idea they were still there.

If you have problems with night driving, try getting some kind of anti-glare lenses. It's glare that's typically the biggest issue with night-driving, so cutting through that will make things easier, safer, and more relaxed if you have to do so by night.

If your tire is losing air somewhat slowly and you can't afford to get it replaced just yet, there's an old solution that younger people might not know: find an air pump at a gas station, and fill the tire with air, yourself! It's really not hard, you just need to find what psi the tire is supposed to be pumped to (this will be on the side of the tire). At the air pump station, most stations now will let you set the psi you need for the tire, so you can set it to idk 42 psi? And it will automatically cut off or warn you when the tire pressure hits that psi! Pchow, easy fix, and if it's deflating slowly, this will buy you a little more time. Best of all, some stations offer their air pumps for free, but even if you have to pay, I think when I filled my tire a few months ago it was like $2 for 5 minutes of unlimited air pumping, which is more than enough for all of my tires, let alone just one.

That's all I can think of for now, so if you have any questions or want any advice, please feel free to ask! I am happy to impart whatever cultural knowledge/adulting information I can to you!

26 notes · View notes

vtforpedro · 2 months

Text

I'm feeling really low. I would give my love to someone again if I were given the choice even knowing this is where it leads because it was the right thing to do, but it sucks right now. I'd mostly made peace with this until I was reminded this week that I'm chronically the lesser friend, the least important one, the one not worth treating well. It makes me sad. But I'm proud of myself for the love I gave even though it was spit in my face in the end :') Anyway. Longtime friendship ending is shitty, especially when you share a fucking discord server. Life: Moving sucks. Half my apartment is packed and at my mom's house. I'll be there in less than a month and I just have to hope that I can hang on to something. I have to hope Lilly will be ok. But it's not a great feeling. Disability claim and case? Who fucking knows. My psychiatrist of like seven years dropped me unexpectedly on Monday and the practice lied to me twice about why, so that was kind of awful lmao got an appt set with a new one and can only hope he keeps me on the same meds haha :') Heart is better. Brain is the same. But my neurologist? The dude who so thoroughly ruined my life? He is fucking leaving the hospital and I AM FREE. I never have to see this man's face again. I'm done with him. It's over. I wish his future patients well. I'm tired. I feel defeated by life and I kinda want to give up. I'd been feeling a lot better that way but now it's not so great. I'm tired of chronic pain that is starting to range in the moderate-severe end from like. my head to my toes. I'm tired of my life continually falling apart every couple of weeks in some way or another lmao I'm tired of men and I'm tired of the idea of ever trying to make friends again. If I'm not used as an emotional dumping ground, I'm a friend of convenience or 'help.' If the most someone can do when I share something about my life is keyboard smash or say one word before launching into a huge tale of their life and expecting me to respond, I'm just gonna drop them. Jesus fucking Christ, I'm a human being, too. I have thoughts and feelings too 🙃 please stop doing this to people. I'm tired of having to be the monster in someone's story because I put boundaries down and step back for my own sanity and mental well being. It just sucks, man. Genuinely believe life is never going to get better at this point. I'm tired of the smallest wins getting overshadowed by larger losses. Anyway, sorry for such a gloomy post. I'm exhausted and I never know what to do anymore. Thank you for your love and support. I truly feel it, but I don't know what to say back except thank you. Love you all. Be kind and take care of yourselves.

#vtforpedro personal #vtforpedro medical #sorry this is just a depressing post #I am feeling Real Bad

12 notes · View notes

chromantlks · 1 year

Text

Workin on art at 5:30am and watching Vendetta, so to procrastinate even longer, here is:

Resident Evil Vendetta: Why Leon and Rebecca’s Positions Should Have Been Swapped

• Rebecca is not a damsel in distress please stop doing this to RE women (female characters in general, hate to be that guy), let Rebecca be the prodigious badass tyrant slayer she has been since day fucking one

• Leon’s entire arc would be improved in the way Chris’ sort of was if he was kidnapped and had time to think about who he is and why he’s come as far as he has, as well as accepting that he can’t always be the dashing hero and that sometimes he needs help too

• We could FINALLY re-explore the dynamic between Chris and Rebecca!! Don’t get me wrong, I love the relationship between Chris and Leon I love the part where they said “it’s gay sex Thursday” and then started making out on the chopper, but cmon. These were the ORIGINAL guys, the goobers, the oomfies, they were partners then and they could have been again

• We might have had more of a chance to catch up with what Rebecca has been doing all this time, we haven’t seen her since 0, or the stage play if you’re insane like I am, and I feel like we deserved to see her in action. It’s totally in line with her character to take more of a backseat to the action, having more of an interest in the science and medical aspects, that’s all good, but she’s still trained in combat and marksmanship. Can you imagine a scene of Rebecca showing off her skills, especially to Leon? Dude that would rock so unbelievably hard cmon.

• Chris has this continued theme in his life of losing people close to him and it reflects in the way he treats his partners/teams. This is just a flaw with the movie in general (which I continue to enjoy despite its. Yknow. Everything~), but we never got to see much of that. Obviously that whole theme was generally resolved in 5 and then continued into 6, but I feel like whether it’s Leon or Rebecca, Chris should have been, like. Way more freaked about it? Staying professional and all, but Jesus Christ man, you’re gonna exchange one liners and cool gun slow-no scenes with MCR over here in the hallway while you have less than 20 minutes to both SAVE and CURE someone who has been by your side for upwards of 20 years whom you have befriended and relied on numerous times??? Whatever! Whatever!

• Arias should have had a MUCH higher interest in obtaining Leon if he wanted his revenge plan work out. He’s already a suuuuper iffy character, I too would be mad if the government dropped a bomb on my wedding and killed almost everyone I held dear, but also I didn’t do arms dealing and bioterrorism so. Maybe reflect on that man. But anyway, the A-Virus already has a lot in common with the Plaga. Arias ABSOLUTELY could improve this connection via a sample of Leon’s blood and an examination of whatever’s left in his nervous system; if done right, this could have handled the virus nearly unstoppable. But instead, he opted to, uh…steal a woman that looks like his wife? Yeah, her blood with the antibodies made the virus stronger, but he had NO IDEA OF THAT. He totally lucked out there. Now, information about the Plaga would be easily attainable for a man of Arias’ profession and status among the underworld of crime or whatever, all that shit, and Leon’s name would absolutely be among that information. It’s just so much more convenient? Makes so much more sense?? Literally aids his evil plan???

I’m sure there’s more reasons I’m forgetting because the amount of times I’ve ranted about this is ridiculous, but like. Cmon cmon cmon I beg

If someone makes art or like rewrites the story like this tag me in it I beg of you like idk if this will incite any inspiration this is just my special weird take on a my special weird movie

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #rebecca chambers #chris redfield #resident evil vendetta #glenn arias

32 notes · View notes

banannabethchase · 1 year

Text

Adam's connecting flight gets delayed, and who else should be on the flight but Jon Moxley. They decide to share a hotel room, but, oh no, what could possibly go wrong? Or right?

Being in an airport really does inspire a person, doesn't it? Also this has been lingering in the back of my noggin for months.

Adam drops his head when the announcement comes on again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters. He should have taken the Bucks up on their invite to stay in one of their guest rooms – there’s no way he’s getting home any time soon at this point.

Stuck at the airport want to die, Adam texts Matt

It’s almost immediate that he gets back, told u so

Sometimes I actually hate you

<3 <3 <3 <3

He resists the urge to text Nick, who will probably be the exact same as Matt, just a little less overtly bitchy. He stretches out in the airport chair as he listens to the flight attendant repeat the announcement for the third time.

”Again, flight 1883 out of San Diego to Cincinnati is cancelled due to weather events across the Great Plains,” she says, sounding too chipper for the announcement. “We will be happy to help any stranded passengers make alternate plans.”

Adam curses the need for layovers as he gets up to the counter, Orville Peck’s newest album keeping him from losing it as he waits behind soccer moms and business professionals and, to his amusement, one of the crew guys from the night before. He doesn’t seem to recognize Adam, and Adam’s not going to get in the way of whatever he’s got going on in his headphones.

When he finally gets up to the counter, he exhales with relief. “Hey, there, ma’am, I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Certainly, sir,” she says. “Tell me what your situation is.”

Adam begins talking, and practically jumps when he hears an obnoxiously familiar voice go, “Oh, fuck me.”

Adam squeezes his eyes shut and exhales. He should have known this was coming. “Lord save me now.”

“I know,” says the counter attendant, sympathetic smile not helping in the slightest. “Flight delays are frustrating.”

“Oh, no it’s not that. It’s just – ” He stops himself from going into a detailed rant about just how perfect it is that he’s going to be stuck in the same airport as Jon Moxley for the foreseeable future. “Never mind. Regarding the flights, I have a connection that there’s no way I’m making.”

“Yeah, unfortunately that’s going to be the case,” she says, frowning. “How about this. We can book you a hotel room,” she does some clicking, “and get you a new fight for��well, it looks like, in order not to give you a 12 hour layover, we can get you out of here on a flight directly to Virginia tomorrow at 4pm.” She smiles at him. “Does that sound like it could work?”

Adam nods. “That sounds like a great alternative. I appreciate your help.”

She prints him out a boarding pass and a hotel receipt, only to turn to run smack into Mox.

“Jesus, you’re charming as fuck even in a stressful situation,” Mox says, grinning at him. “Ever turn it off?”

“You’ve seen what I do when I turn it off,” Adam says, refusing to meet his eyes. It’s unfortunate, then, that his gaze lingers on Mox’s lips. On the way his tee shirt gaps a little at the collar. “You get hung by a chain in front of thousands on a pay per view.”

Mox’s grin goes a little predatory. “Yeah. Anyway, hope your day sucks.”

“What? I – fine. You too. Prick.”

Mox winks at him and gets into line just in time for Adam to get a phone call he’s not going to be able to finish without plugging in his phone. So he, with CD on the other end of the line checking in on him, is privy to the shitshow in front of him.

“There’s no more hotel rooms?!” says the lady who had been standing a few people behind him. He remembers she was the one loudly listening to videos on her phone in between complaining. “Then find me a different one!”

“Ma’am, there are no more hotel rooms we are able to –”

“Well that’s your fault, isn’t it?!” she shrieks. She turns to the line of people behind her. “Aren’t you all just as angry? We want to get home! We paid good money for these tickets!” She turns back to the attendant. “Are you the most competent person I can deal with? Do they only hire idiots?”

“Chris, I gotta go,” Adam mutters into the phone. “I’m good, though, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Alright, Hanger.” Chris sounds skeptical, which is fair, but he hangs up anyway.

Adam’s in the process of standing up to go give the lady a piece of his mind when Mox steps out of line to swagger up to the complainer. “Yo, lady, I’m not sure what your problem is, but you don’t see any of us acting like toddlers who didn’t get a cookie.” He does that stance, arms behind his back, like he’s daring someone to hit him. “Chill out.”

“I,” she says, “am a very important oil executive, sir, and I have places to be. People require my presence to complete their jobs.” She looks Mox up and down, taking in his ratty jacket, ripped jeans, and faded tee shirt. Her eyes linger on the scars on his forehead. “I can see you don’t have much experience in that arena.”

Mox scoffs. “Lady, I’m a wrestler. Like a pro one? Like on TV? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty sure I’m just as whatever as you are and I’m not being a bitch.”

Adam snickers into his hand. It’s not quiet enough – Mox glances over his shoulder and grins at Adam. “See? That guys a wrestler, too. And he was perfectly civil. So you can grow the fuck up and act like a human or you can keep this up and I’ll put you in a headlock.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says. Adam knows that face. She’s trying to call Mox’s bluff. Adam giggles again.

“Hey, Cowboy,” Mox says, “what did I do to you in that match?”

“Before I choked you out with a chain?” Adam asks. “You tried to break my hand between two bricks.”

“Right,” Mox says. He turns back to the lady, whose face has turned a weird shade of green. “So, like, if you’re gonna go after this nice person trying to help you, I kinda hope you go full on nutjob and jump the counter. I’d love give you a suplex onto the floor.”

Adam’s full on laughing as the lady sputters some nonsense. She snatches the boarding pass that the flight attendant had been holding out for her and stomps off. “I hope you get a concussion,” she snarls at Mox and Adam as she leaves.

“Been there, done that, lady,” Mox calls after her.

Adam lets the laughter fade. “You got a way of handling assholes, that’s for sure.”

“Only way I’ve survived being coworkers with you,” Mox says. “I’m fucked, though. Stuck sleeping on airplane chairs like it’s 2003 again.”

Adam practically sees his options scatter across his vision. Take the hotel room and enjoy a night to himself. Offer the room to Mox and be stuck here. Give the hotel room to someone else so they’re both miserable together.

Or.

“I mean, you can come with me,” Adam says. “I’m sure we can avoid killing each other for a night so we can both get decent sleep.”

Mox stares at him for a second. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” Adam says, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. “Just saying you could be, like, not a weird martyr and take the comfortable option.” He’s about to walk away, hand on his rolling carryon, when Mox sighs.

“I like that you think spending time with you is better than being stuck in an airport,” Mox says, but he grabs his carryon and starts walking. Adam falls into pace next to him.

“Dick,” Adam says, grinning. “You look like you’re coming with me, though, so I’d say I’m better than an airport.”

“I’m too fuckin’ old to try and sleep on airplane carpet,” Mox says, rolling his shoulders. “Plus, I got that GCW match on Sunday and I really don’t want to be fucked up for it.”

“Oh, right,” Adam says, sliding out of the way for a family of what appears to be four thousand blocking the path, “because a GCW match requires tip top shape to get bludgeoned to death with a trash can.”

Mox stares at him. “We just bludgeoned you and your boys with worse than trash cans, so I have no idea where this high and mighty bullshit is coming from.”

Adam opens his mouth to argue before realizing, annoyed, that Mox is right. “Well shit.”

Navigating the airport to get to the hotel is easier than Adam had thought, but with a chattering Mox behind him making commentary on everything it’s less smooth.

“Do you ever shut up?” Adam asks as they settle in line at the hotel. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve said anything in ten minutes, but you’ve spoken a novel’s worth.”

Mox shrugs. “I’m fidgety. I talk when I’m fidgety. That a problem for you?”

“If you talk in your fuckin’ sleep, it is,” Adam says, but he’s sure to smile to make it sound like less of a death threat. The people in front of them in line keep looking back at them, concerned. Adam doesn’t want the cops called on him. “Now shut up for, like, two minutes while I get checked in.”

“You better ask for two beds,” Mox says. “I ain’t cuddling with you, Cowboy.”

“I’m sure there’s two queens,” Adam replies.

Mox giggles.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Just, if there’s two queens, it’s the Bucks, right?”

Adam kicks him in the shins.

“And there’s a king bed in this room,” says the attendant when he gets his key cards.

Adam blinks. “I’m – just a king bed?”

“Yes, sir,” she says. “It’s the only room left.”

“Alright,” Adam says. He’ll sleep in the bathtub if he comes to it. Anything to get this shit show over with. “Yeah, it’ll work. I appreciate the help.”

Mox steps in pace with him, like a puppy learning how to heel, as Adam makes his way to the elevator. “So, we gonna fight on who gets the bed?”

“I’ll sleep in the tub if it means you shut up,” Adam deadpans, pressing the button for the elevator.

Mox slides into the elevator, and grabs Adam’s carryon to move it with him. Adam’s…confused, but appreciative. “I was kidding about the cuddling bit,” Mox says. “I mean, you’re letting me stay in your hotel room. I’ll sleep in the tub or on the floor.”

“That can’t be much better than an airport carpet,” Adam says. He checks the key card – fourth floor, room 451. Before he can press the button, Mox has reaches out and practically punched the button for number 4.

Mox is quiet for a few minutes, long enough to make Adam wonder what he’s planning. “Or,” Mox says as the elevators doors open. He grabs Adam’s carryon again and hauls both suitcases down the hallway. Adam decides not to mention his has wheels – he kind of wants to see how long it’ll take Mox to notice. “I mean, we can share. The bed, I mean. If you’re okay with that.”

Adam considers it as they walk down the hallway. “You’re not gonna try and cuddle me, are you?”

“I – that was a joke, you fuckwit,” Mox says. “And you could thank me for carrying your bag all the way here.”

“First off, it rolls, so you didn’t have to carry it,” Adam says, sliding the key card into the lock on the door. “Second, I didn’t ask you to carry my bag.”

“I had to,” Mox says. Adam barely gets the chance to push open the door before Mox is hauling all their bags and throwing them into the room with zero ceremony or care. “It was the nice thing to do.”

Adam shuts the door behind the two of them. “You saying that right after chucking the bags into a wall feels weird.”

Mox shrugs and throws himself onto the bed, arms behind his head. “What, you want me to, like, apologize or something? Did you have something breakable in there?”

Adam shakes his head as he carefully unzips his boots and sets them neatly next to the desk. “Just wondering what the fuck goes on in that weird head of yours.”

“You don’t get to call me weird,” Mox says, and he’s grinning when Adam glances over at him. “You’re just as much of a freak as me, Cowboy.”

Adam throws the pillow from the chair at Mox and sits down. “Am not.”

“Oh, so the whole hanging me using a chain is normal behavior to you?” Mox shifts, grinning at Adam. “Wrapping barbed wire around yourself like a fuckin’ corset is vanilla in your world? I’d hate to see what you’d consider freaky, then.”

Adam adjusts in the seat, desperate to lay down but not ready to cross that bridge with Mox. “I’m sure you would Mox.”

They’re quiet for a moment, as Adam tries to figure out if getting up will be seen as an offensive maneuver. Then Mox groans and stretches, his arms above his head on the bed. He grips the bars of the headboard, which Adam tries not to think too much about. “Well, Cowboy,” he groans, “if we’re gonna act like an old married couple and share the same bed, least I can do is wash the airport offa me. I’m gonna go shower.”

Adam nods, because there’s not much else he can really do. “I, uh. Appreciate it?”

“You should,” Mox says, swaggering over to the shower. He pulls his shirt off and throws it on top of his luggage. Adam recognizes a fresh scar on Mox’s back as one he placed there with barbed wire. He ignores the voice in his head that growls mine at the sight. “I’m a fuckin’ saint.”

“I absolutely wouldn’t go that far,” Adam laughs, but he follows Mox with his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom, allowing himself to look at the way Mox’s ass fills out the jeans.

Adam’s halfway through his compulsive daily email clear out when a noise jolts him out of his focus.

He looks around the room for the source, only to see an outdated phone buzzing on top of Mox’s bag.

“Mox,” Adam yells, “Mox, your phone’s ringing!”

Adam stands and walks over to the phone to pick it up. He wouldn’t normally impose, but he glances at the screen and it’s Tony’s number. “Dude,” Adam says again. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes.”

The phone stops ringing and Adam relaxes. And then it starts up again.

“Asshole,” Adam grumbles, almost stomping down the short hallway to the bathroom. “Hey dickhead!” he yells, and he’s surprised when the door swings open under his grip.

He should have remembered he’s never been in this bathroom before.

He should have remembered this is Jon Moxley.

He should have remembered that boner he popped during Anarchy in the Arena.

The shower is in perfect view of the door, so he can’t even act like he can’t see what’s in front of him. He feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Here to join?” Mox asks. His hand is curled around his cock, grinning over at Adam through the water droplets on the glass shower door.

“No,” Adam says, averting his eyes, a little too late, “uh. Here.” He shoves the phone toward Mox. “It’s Tony.”

“Tell him we’re having a sleepover and he can wait,” Mox says. Adam can sense that Mox is moving, and he’s not strong enough to imagine the kind of movement. “I’m busy.”

“It’s the second time he’s called in, like, four minutes,” Adam says. He moves to stare at the wall, but all that happens is he locks eyes with Mox through the mirror. He fights the urge to run or whimper or something else he doesn’t allow himself to think about too hard. “Just fuckin’ answer it.”

Mox groans and turns off the shower. “Asshole.”

“Dickhead,” Adam replies, and he hustles out of there like his life depends on it.

Mox comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later followed by steam. Adam is unable to ignore the fact that he’s not wearing anything but a towel around his waist.

Adam had waffled between what to do, and ended up sitting on the bed stiffly, still fully dressed, with a book in his hand. He’s made it through two pages and didn’t understand any of it.

“Tony was just freaking out about if I was gonna get home or not,” Mox says. Adam intentionally doesn’t look at the way the water leaves trails down his chest, his back, his arms. He doesn’t look at how low the towel is on Mox’s hips, on the perfect lines of muscle making a V at the bottom of his torso. “Since he booked the flights he got the notification of the cancellation and I,” he rolls his eyes, “am the only one who didn’t check in with CD, so he was freaking out.”

Adam swallows, forcing himself to stare at the wall behind Mox. “You chill him out?”

Mox nods, stretching, and Adam’s eyes snap right back to that chest of Mox’s. “Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Mox says. “Freaks out about everything, Tony. Told him we’re bunking together.”

That’s enough for Adam to set his book down. “How’d he react to that?”

Mox laughs, twisting. Adam finds himself wondering how tightly the towel is tied, if Mox is still hard under there. “Tony freaked out, like always. Wanted to know if we planned on killing each other.”

“It’s not off the table,” Adam replies, adjusting his glasses and going back to the book.

Adam feels the bed shift as Mox sits at the foot of the bed. “Yeah? Planning on strangling me in your sleep?”

Adam looks up to see Mox grinning at him. “Already strangled you once,” Adam says, flipping the page like he’s been able to take in a single word since Mox walked out of the bathroom. “Figured I’d try something new.”

Mox huffs. “Yeah? You been thinkin’ about killing me?”

“No,” Adam says. He sets down the book. “But, you know. Always have ideas in my back pocket.”

Mox studies his face for a moment. “Ideas?”

Adam nods. He’s not sure where this is going. “Yeah. Ideas.”

The silence feels heavy for a second, and Adam’s pretty sure he’s seconds away from doing something stupid when Mox says, “I like the glasses.”

Adam blinks. “Oh,” he says, taken off guard by the compliment. “Uh. Thanks?”

“You don’t have to act all weird about it,” Mox says. “They’re – they look good. Real studious and shit.”

Adam laughs. “High praise from a man whose wardrobe is his own merch.”

“It’s my merch because I like it,” Mox says. He leans back on the bed. His head is level with Adam’s knees. “Course I’ll wear it.”

“You don’t see me in Hangman shirts all the time,” Adam says.

“No, but you were those, uh, those button downs. Very yeehaw. Cowboy shit, right? You dress the part.” He reaches out and pats Adam’s leg. “Even your jeans are all cowboy.”

Adam tries not to flinch or burn at the touch. “I – thank you?”

Mox rolls over. “Are you okay? You’re all tense?”

Adam opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again and says, before he can stop it, “What are you doing?”

Mox stares. “Huh?”

“Like, you talk all the time, I know that, but you’re like.” He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know. Trying to be friendly.”

Mox’s face falls, and Adam practically watches him close in on himself as he scrambles to his feet. He can’t explain why his heart clenches at it, only that it does. “Oh.”

“No!” Adam says. “I – no, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just I didn’t expect it. Especially after I walked in on you –” Adam cuts himself off, because saying, ‘walked in on you jacking it’ feels a little too real for whatever’s happening.

Mox’s expression shifts incredibly slowly, from confusion to understanding to amusement. “Oh,” he says, drawing out the syllable. “Oh, you walked in on me with my hand on my dick and you freaked out.”

Adam wills himself not to turn red. He doesn’t think it’s working. “I didn’t freak out.” He forces himself to look up and meet Mox’s eyes, blue and bright. “I tried to be professional about it.”

“Yeah?” Mox says. “What if I didn’t want you to be professional about it?”

Adam’s eyes flicker from Mox’s eyes to his mouth before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Fuck a coworker in a hotel room. That’s great.”

“A coworker?” Mox says, pouting. He puts his hand to his heart. “I’m hurt. I’m at least an arch nemesis at this point, right?”

“Fine, fuck an arch nemesis,” Adam says, and he can’t fight the grin. “But that’s a bad idea, right?”

“Interesting,” Mox says. “You’re not saying no, you don’t want to. You’re saying no, it’s unprofessional? Weird stance to take when everybody knows what you and Cole were doing before your Revolution match.”

Adam shrugs and tries to act like he knew everyone was aware of what he and Cole get up to. “We have a history together. It’s what we’ve always done before matches.”

“You always blow him before a match?” Mox says. “I gotta get that on the schedule for our matches. Sounds nice.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Adam says, but he can’t deny that the picture of Mox with his cock in his hand, that grin on his lips, is burned into his memory. “But I get what you’re doing now. This your seduction technique?”

“Not usually,” Mox says, and he stands, hand going to the place where the towel is tucked in on itself. Adam wants to pull at it. “But I figured, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Adam licks his lips before he can stop himself. “Desperate, huh? You look it.”

“Excuse me,” Mox says, and he finally throws the towel to the ground. “You’re the one staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

“You walked out of the shower with nothing but a towel and started talking about our boss as a weird segue to flirting,” Adam says, and he hopes Mox doesn’t notice the way he spreads his legs, just a little. His hands are threatening to start shaking with anticipation as Mox climbs on the bed.

He is still hard.

“I’ll have you know my flirting is far more than just words.”

Adam can’t move and doesn’t want to as Mox leans in and kisses him, a hand on the side of his neck. It’s gentler than he would have expected, less insistent, and Adam rests a hand on Mox’s hip and pulls him down. His skin is damp and warm, and Adam grabs at it like a lifeline as Mox’s tongue slides across the seam of his lips.

Adam makes an involuntary little squeak and Mox pulls back.

“What?” he asks. “You good? Too much?”

Adam shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes. Jesus, ask one thing at a time.”

Mox grins at him. “Oh, I like you flustered.” He reaches out and brushes his thumb across Adam’s bottom lip. It’s devastating. “You good?”

Adam nods, Mox’s thumb catching on his upper lip. “I’m good,” he says. He’s already breathless, like he’s a horny teenager. This would be embarrassing if he weren’t so into it. “I just – not what I expected, you know?”

Mox shrugs. “Nah, but when the opportunity arises.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Is that a dick joke?” Adam asks. “Of course you’d make a dick joke right now.”

“What, I should make a fuckin’ – what else rises? A sun joke?” Mox asks. “Stay in the moment, Cowboy.”

“You stay in the –” But Adam’s cut off by a kiss, this one a bit less gentle.

He grips at Mox’s sides again, then flips them before Mox can react. Mox makes a funny little sound and adds teeth into the kiss, catching Adam’s lower lip, and Adam can’t help it. He moans into it.

Mox’s hands slide under and up his shirt, scratching at his back in a way that makes him kiss harder, press his leg between Mox’s legs. He chances a hand along Mox’s thigh, not getting too close, not until Mox says so.

Mox pulls his mouth away. “Fuck, Cowboy, you a tease, too? Grab my cock already.”

“Jesus,” Adam laughs, “you could be, like, a little romantic about it.”

“Oh, and you walking in on me jerking off just to give me my phone with my boss on the other line is romantic?!” Mox says.

“Okay,” Adam says, reaching up to spit in his hand, “to be fair, I didn’t know that’s what you were doing.” He curls his hand around Mox’s cock, laughing at the way Mox’s face relaxes, the way his head drops against the pillows. “Believe me,” Adam says, lips at Mox’s ear. He catches Mox’s earlobe between his teeth. “If I’d know that’s what you were doing, maybe I would have joined you.”

Mox lets out a fascinating little whine at the way Adam twists his hand. “Oh, I like this side of you,” he laughs.

Adam strokes gently, careful not to give too much pressure, too much friction. He’s still fully clothed. He’s not going to let Mox have all the fun. “Yeah?” Adam says.

Mox nods. “Hey, wait, you – too much clothes. Get naked.”

“No fuckin’ romance,” Adam laughs under his breath, but he leans back and pulls his shirt off over his head. He looks down to see Mox staring at him. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Just looking,” Mox says. “You got a chance to look at me naked, I’m just returning the favor.” Adam tries not to squirm under Mox’s gaze. “Hot. Alright, pants.”

With an eye roll, Adam unbuckles his jeans and rolls off of Mox, shoving his pants and boxers down his hips in one move. Mox stares at his dick and licks his lips. “Goddamn,” he says, voice low and pupils blown, “that Hung Bucks thing isn’t a joke, is it?”

Adam rolls his eyes and pretends he isn’t blushing as he gets back onto the bed and on top of Mox. As much as he didn’t see this as how his day would end, he’s enjoying it.

“Hey,” Mox says, grabbing a handful of Adam’s ass, “what if we take this to the shower?”

Adam pulls back from where he’d been working a bruise into Mox’s neck. “Shower?”

“It’s big,” Mox says, “Got some little seat things.”

Adam stares at him. “You don’t want to leave wet spots on the bed, huh.”

“There’s only one bed.” He wrinkles his nose. “We fuck here, things’ll get wet. One of us would be stuck sleeping in it.”

Adam pushes himself off the bed and walks to the shower. “For once in your life, you’re making sense.”

“You know this was my idea, right?” Mox says, following him. He puts his hands on Adam’s hips, half steering him to the bathroom. Adam finds he likes being manhandled like this a little bit. “You could be a little nicer about it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Something tells me nice isn’t what you actually like.”

“Am I that predictable?”

Adam laughs as gets the shower started, the water turning warm quicker than he expected, and he steps under the stream. He hears Mox step in after him and then big hands span his stomach from behind him. He shivers under the touch. He has to fight the urge to push Mox off, used to those hands causing harm. But right now he’s gentle, warm, and Adam��s got to loosen up a little.

“Breathe, Cowboy,” Mox says into Adam’s ear, “not gonna hurt you.”

Adam laughs. “You sure about that?”

“I mean, unless you’re into it.” He punctuates it with a nip to Adam’s neck, sending sparkles through Adam’s vision. “But, nah. Just gonna do this.” He slides his hand down Adam’s body and wraps it around Adam’s dick. Adam drops his head backward, resting his head against Mox’s neck. A part of him is screaming to push away and run, but it’s a part that is way quieter than the part screaming fuck me.

“God, that’s good,” Adam mumbles before he can stop himself. He rolls his hips into the circle of Mox’s calloused fingers. “Fuck, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah?” Mox says, lips on Adam’s neck. “How long? With who?

“Me – fuck – me and Kenny used to fuck around a lot, happened once a few weeks ago, when – do that again, yeah – I went back with the Elite…” He trails off, eyes fluttering shut as he leans into the feeling, gripping at Mox’s hip hard enough to leave fingernail marks.

Mox laughs. “Maybe I bring you to the rest of Blackpool,” he murmurs. “I think you’d have a good time. Yoots might be kinda young, but he fucks like an animal.”

Adam laughs. “Yeah?” He turns to catch Mox’s mouth, pushing him backward against the wall of the shower. He’s grateful for the space, for the room in here to really move Mox around. “Knew I was right about that circle jerk shit, you horny motherfuckers.”

“Hey, you’re benefitting from this horny motherfucker, so you better not complain,” Mox says. “I’m gonna blow you now, okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam says, and he lets Mox press him up against the wall. “Fuck yeah.”

Adam watches as Mox sinks to his knees and grins up at him. He should say something, do something, but all he can do is breathe heavily and wait.

“You look good from this angle,” Mox says, and then his mouth is around the head of Adam’s cock and, frankly, Adam forgets how to think.

Mox is focused and determined as he works his tongue and lips around Adam in a way he hadn’t realized Mox could be out of the ring. Then again, he muses, as Mox reaches up to grip at Adam’s thighs, this isn’t far out of the realm. He giggles before he can stop himself.

“Are you laughing at me?!” Mox exclaims, pulling off of Adam’s cock. “Look, I don’t know shit about etiquette or whatever but I’m pretty sure laughing at the guy sucking your dick is bad manners.”

“Not at you,” Adam chokes out. “Just. Look, dude, this is a far cry from us and our friends trying to kill each other back at Double or Nothing, you know?” He runs his thumb along Mox’s cheekbone. “You look pretty both ways, though.”

Mox rolls his eyes at him. “You’re fuckin’ weird. I can’t believe I want to fuck you.” He shakes his head and dives back to wrap his mouth around Adam.

Adam closes his eyes and rolls into it, letting the feeling take him over. This is far different than what he gets up to with the other guys in the back rooms. This feels like they have all the time in the world, like they don’t have to worry or rush. Like Mox has all the time in the world, and he’s going to take it.

He pushes at Mox’s shoulder. “Get up here, I wanna kiss you.”

Mox stands and crashes into Adam, and Adam shivers a little at the taste of himself on Mox’s tongue. He reaches behind himself to get some of the cheap hotel conditioner and fumbles to cover his hand with it.

“Are you washing your hair right now?” Mox turns.

“No, dipshit, I’m gonna grab your dick,” Adam replies. He reaches down between the two of them. Mox is a little too far away, so Adam grabs his hips and pulls him closer so he can wrap a hand around both of their cocks at once. Mox lets out the prettiest little moan at it, a hand flying up next to Adam’s head to brace himself against the wall.

“Jesus,” Mox mumbles. He circles his hips in a way that makes his cock slide against Adam’s with just enough friction to make his head spin. “Kinda glad that our flight got cancelled now.”

Adam laughs, meeting Mox’s movements. “Yeah? There are definitely worse ways to spend a layover.” He glances up to see Mox’s tongue between his teeth, eyes locked on the way their cocks slide against each other. He can’t resist it – he leans in and catches Mox’s lips in his, swallowing the moan that follows.

He focuses on the sensations, the feelings, the sound of Mox’s breathing and of their dicks sliding against each other. That part of him that thinks this is a terrible idea keeps trying to get loud, but he shuts it up every time his lips meet Mox’s.

He feels it build slowly, like the water that trails down Mox’s forehead, in the base of his spine.

“Fuck,” Adam pants, “Mox, I’m close, I gotta –”

“Yeah, Cowboy, I got you.” Mox slides his hand around Adam’s, their fingers tangling, and that’s enough to send Adam over the edge.

He gasps, without meaning to, “Mox,” as he comes all over both of their hands, rocking his hips up to ride it out.

“God, that’s pretty,” Mox mumbles. He gets a little reckless and frantic, and he leans in to kiss Adam as he comes, biting down on Adam’s lower lip. Adam whines at it, and he has to work to make sure he doesn’t slip down the wall.

Mox rests his forehead against Adam’s and they stand there, gasping, as they come down from the moment. Adam realizes after a few moments that Mox is trailing his knuckles gently along Adam’s biceps. It’s sweet. It’s confusing. Adam doesn’t want it to stop.

“Cowboy,” Mox murmurs, pressing his lips to the side of Adam’s neck, “you fallin’ asleep or something?”

“No,” Adam says. He sighs before he can stop himself. “Just – enjoying the moment.”

Mox’s laugh is soft, almost sweet. It doesn’t match the man Adam’s run into over and over again, but it feels right. “Yeah, me too. But we’re gonna get all wrinkly if we stay here.” He steps away, and Adam is suddenly very cold. It fades quickly, though, as Mox adjusts the showerhead to spray warm water on both of them.

“Gotta wash my hair,” Adam mumbles, fumbling for the shampoo.

“Let me,” Mox says.

Adam actually does get close to falling asleep as Mox gently massages his hair. “This soap smells good,” he mumbles. “Gotta stay in an airport hotel more often.”

Mox laughs and Adam’s pretty sure he presses a kiss to the back of Adam’s neck. “It’s probably just some sort of drug store shampoo, baby, don’t get too fancy about it.”

Adam sighs, just a little, at the nickname, and wants to hold onto it.

They finish washing up and drying off in near silence, a few words here and there scattered around, until they both drowsily curl into bed.

“Scoot,” Mox says, pushing his butt up against Adam, “we’re cuddling.”

“I thought you said no cuddling,” Adam mumbles, throwing an arm around Mox’s waist.

“That was before I saw what you look like when you come,” Mox replies. He sounds like he’s already nearly asleep. “Now we got a bond. So you gotta cuddle me.”

It’s not flawless logic, Adam thinks. But he’s cozy and warm, and he’ll let it slide.

Mini Playlist: Magnets - Lorde, Disclosure Familiar - Liam Payne, J Balvin I Want It - Two Feet Talking Body - Tove Lo

#HangMox #in which Sara writes #wtf i like wrestling now???#Hehehe here have this #This is dumb #anxious millennial dreamboat #madly in love with leather daddy jon moxley

14 notes · View notes

crazedmetalhead · 1 year

Text

Random thing I wrote that's potentially going to be an Eddie x reader

Warnings: Dark themes, violence, death, drugs, strong language, trauma. My writing here is probably shitty and sub-par due to how tired and out of practice I am... It's simply just a thought I had and wrote in the dead of night.

Okay, so, I wasn't expecting my life to go like this. I mean... Shit- who the fuck would? Who on god's green earth would expect to go through so much bullshit in one week... Because of some fucking supernatural force no less??Ah, but here I was in Hawkins Indiana and this shit- was happening. All I could do? Let the bodies hit the floor, as they all seemed to so graciously do within mere feet of my being.... Because why not the freak, right? Why the fuck wouldn't this force pin it on your friendly neighborhood 'satanist,' who already had a bad rep with the police? Because that's just soooo convenient; isn't it?

Okay, okay, so you're probably all wondering about the lovely clusterfuck that has been my past week, so I'll tell you- no bullshit, balls to the walls honesty. You're probably going to think I'm bonkers, or high off my ass, but listen man... It's true. I swear on Ozzy that I'm not crazy.

--March 10th, 1986; Hawkins Indiana- the reckoning--

"Welcome to my humble abode... Uhh... Sorry about the mess, the maid took the week off," I mused, my multichrome eyes glimmering with mischief as I let him into my trailer, expecting to sell him drugs, and maybe get 'lucky,' or whatever the hell you call a one night stand with no orgasm. Neither of those things happened that night.

"Uhhh come in, come in," I urged him, Chris was his name, and he, unlike most of the basketball players; was not an elitist asshole.

"The mess isn't an issue Candy," he assured me, standing awkwardly in my living room, his eyes darting around nervously, "so... How do we do this exactly?" He asks, biting his bottom lip and I find myself wanting to alleviate that stress,

"Well, like any other transaction, really, only it's cash only, and no receipt... For obvious reasons," I say, trying to flash as charming of a smile as I can at him, hoping to ease his nerves.

He stares at me for a moment, and I can feel his nervousness, before he nods.

"Alright, I trust you... Candy."I give a small grin, turning around to grab the shit from its typical hiding spot when I remember my aunt did deep cleaning of the living room last week so I hid it in my bedroom and I shoot Chris an apologetic glance.

"I'll be right back, just let me go get it... You stay right here... Or if it gets too much you can leave," I assure him, skittering off to my sanctuary to search for the drugs I intend to sell... Now, I'd consider myself an ethical dealer, I don't do all the shit, only weed and an occasional Xanny, I make sure those I sell to aren't like, psychotic or anything... I give nice and pretty boys or girls a discount on the shit and generally- I'm a nice person... Might not be good but I don't fuck with people unless they fuck with me... It's how I justify... Well this, whatever the fuck this lifestyle is. I could be so much worse. I trudge through my bedroom, paying a small greeting to my guitar, which I failed to practice today before grabbing the ketamine and walking to the living room, where I could instantly sense something was accutely wrong- like, worse than the shit they tried to pass off as a Philly cheese steak in the school lunch line.

I came back to Chris and he was just spaced, man, unresponsive and standing in my living room, staring right through me and I clapped, hoping to startle him, but nothing.

"Hey... Chris, I'm back with the stuff..." I try, hoping to rouse some reaction from him, anything but none... Panic starts to set in as I drop the drugs.

"Chris, wake up! Wake up man! I don't like this... Jesus Christ wake up!" I beg, clicking my rings together, pleading with the jock to come to some form of normality. This doesn't happen. Not to Chris, not anymore.Nothing. He just stands there, in the middle of my living room, staring off into the distance with a vacant gaze, like he was just staring off into space. I start circling him, snapping and pleading with him to wake up when suddenly, like some shit out of a horror movie, my guy fucking levitates to the ceiling of my trailer.

"JESUS H CHRIST!!" I shout, my tone full of horror as his bones start cracking and I watch helplessly... What the hell am I supposed to do? Is it coming for me too? Oh hell no. I watch as he falls limp to the ground, I couldn't save him... My brain is numb and all I can think to do is grab a box of honeycombs and a beer bottle before taking off in my K5 like a bat outta hell.I pull up to a secluded dirt road, hidden by trees. I take a swig of the bottle, trying to calm the fuck down.

"Shit... Fucking... Hell!" I grumble to myself, shuddering... Did I cause that? Was I so freakish that he decided to fucking go snap crackle pop and crawl out of his skin? No... That can't be it, hopefully, anyways... I'm not a killer, right? Wait... Why didn't I fucking help him? I ran away. I'm fucking useless. The thoughts drown my mind as I shout and throw the bottle, my mind overwhelmed.

"Goddamnit Candy!" I shout to myself before breaking down into sobs, crawling across the dirt to collect the broken beer bottle in my hands, accidentally cutting myself in the shards as I hug it to my chest, letting myself cry, knowing that inevitably when they find him in my trailer I'll be a fugitive and won't have a minute for pity's sake.I feel a wetness on my face and realize that I'm still crying. I stop, my throat tight. I look at my car, my beautiful black truck that I worked so hard to save for and I whimper, realizing I'll need to leave it behind as I take off on foot, climbing a tree and moving by treetop so I don't leave footsteps until I reach lover's lake, seeing a familiar house of a drug dealing link who's currently in prison and I decide to hide in the boathouse, hugging the honeycombs box, and the broken bottle to my chest as I hide under a tarp, hyperventilating... What the fuck just happened? I'm not a killer... Right?

I wait what feels like eternity before I calm myself, trying to stop shaking.

--the next day--

I wake up to a low voice coming from right outside the boat next to me, as if he were crouching hissing into what I presume is a walkie talkie and seems pissed that he's stranded where he's at with no aid and he's running out of food. He says something about stupid pieces of shit before I shift and suddenly the tarp is lifted off of me and before I can even look to see who the fuck this is I have him pinned to the wall, my bottle pressed against his throat, his big brown eyes wide and his hair wild, his face dirty and ragged, as if he's been through some shit and hasn't had time for a shower in a few days and my eyes narrow as I silently stare him down.

"Whoa, Candy, Candy wait I can explain, I didn't kill them I swear on Ozzy, please set the bottle down," he pleads, making me press the bottle further to him, fear delaying my recognition as he puts his hands where I can see them, "whoa, hey, okay, wow, Candy, it's me... Eddie? You know... The person who so graciously lets you- oh thank God, wow okay you're being civil holy fucking Christ that's good," he babbles as I slowly back away from him, my eyes still suspicious before I finally crumple and break down, burrying my face into my sleeves.

"Hey are you okay?" Eddie asks gently, crouching down beside me and my sobs only intensify.

"No, Jesus fuck I'm not... H-holy shit," I whimper and Eddie places his hand tentatively on my shoulder.

"What happened?" He asks and I let out a little sob.

"You'd think I'm fucking crazy," I whisper, my voice wavering but he squeezes my shoulder.

"Try me," he challenges and I can't help but to lean into him, my body wracked entirely with sobs.

"It was fucking awful Eddie... He fucking... He went snap crackle fucking pop! He floated! Humans don't do that oh God... Oh God!" I sob, clinging to Eddies leather jacket as I whimper, entirely incoherent... But Eddie understands me perfectly. He knows because he's seen it too, he's been through this. He holds me gently, his face full of empathy and understanding, and when I look up his face is soft. I think I might actually cry again.

"I know, I know."

I whimper, my body trembling as I sniffle,

"Don't bullshit me man, I know how it sounds," I choke out, my voice shaky and Eddie scoffs, he not too long ago heard those words escape his own mouth... It's funny how much shit comes full circle in Hawkins.

"Look, I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but you're talking about a dead guy here and you're crying like a little girl, okay? I'm not gonna bullshit you, but I also know you've been through a lot too. We've all been through a lot, so please don't take this the wrong way, but you're being a little hysterical and I'm not quite sure what to make of what you're saying, okay?" He tries, trying to get me to calm down to confirm his gut feeling. This only fuels my emotional state.

"Hysterical? Fucking hysterical?! You don't fucking get it! My brother in Christ fucking levitated into thin air and I watched his bones crack in on themselves... His eyes... Oh God his eyes looked *wretches* God I don't even want to talk about his eyes... I shit... He's still in there... I ran away! I fucking ran away! I didn't help him!" I sob, my body trembling once more and that's when Eddie realizes what I'm talking about, why I'm so hysterical and his brain is full of flashbacks.. it's all so similar to when Chrissy died in his trailer a mere week ago, leaving his life upended and him on the run from an angry mob of Hawkins residents. He knows the survivor's guilt all too well.

"I know, I know," he soothes, patting my back and I break away from him to stare at him. He looks tired. So fucking tired.

"You.. do know..." I manage, trying to calm myself, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," I babble, whimpering between my words, "I don't know what the fuck to do," I whisper and I sound so small, so helpless that Eddie can't help but to hold me to his chest. It's all he knows how to do at the moment. What else could we do? Run from this? Hah! Like that could happen... If only...

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #stranger things #80s

3 notes · View notes

fratboykate · 1 year

Note

None of my friends are watching The Ultimatum because apparently I'm the only good gay in my friend group so please give me all your thoughts. I want all of them.

i just finished watching the last two and when i tell you i have NEVER IN MY FUCKING LIFE been more vindicated by a reunion episode. i mean it. i watched the proposal episode and with the exception of ONE couple (we all know who...i hope we all know who. i hope we're all smart enough to know who!) i was progressively more outraged by all those decisions. you can tell im trying to be as least spoilery as possible because y'all need to go watch this mess for yourselves but jesus fucking christ. none of those people should've been together to begin with much less for however many years they have been together.

im 97.2% certain one of them is a full blown psycopath (i also hope we all know who it is) and aussie...oh my god aussie. throw the whole person away and start over. that's a ten-year-old child with zero communication skills in the body of a forty-two-year old. literally infuriating. they need at least five years of therapy twice a week before they get a waiver to date anyone.

this show is proof that all the conversations ive had this year about how everyone these days seems so fucking scared to move on from relationships that are NOT working and they're clinging to that shit for dear life out of convenience/habit when it's fucking clear as fucking day that they would at the very least be better off alone are accurate. ive had the same conversation at least a dozen times in the past few months. literally was having it with my therapist like two weeks ago and she was like "the majority of my friends and half of my clients are in one of those". y'all...LET SHIT GO. i don't care if you've been in it for two years or twenty years. if it's not actively making you better cut that chord. walk away. i promise you it feels better than being stuck lol. coasting is not where it's at. you deserve 110% every day.

#and im speaking from experience #ive never felt more free than since i filed for divorce in october #i was watching these people and screaming at my computer half the time #BREAK UP JUST BREAK UP OH MY GOD BREAK UP #A MESS #but an entertaining mess at least #tuql #anonymous #answers

1 note · View note

leonbloder · 1 month

Text

The Spirituality of Vinyl Records

In the late 1980s, I got a part-time job at a record store for an employee discount.

Since I had a full-time job at Walt Disney World at the time, I worked about 70 hours a week and only had one day off, but it was worth it to be able to buy my music at half price.

One of my jobs every week was to change out the singles chart behind the counter to match the current Billboard Hot 100 singles for the week.

In case you were wondering, the singles chart took up a whole wall behind the counter, and all of the singles were 45s (smaller vinyl records for the uninitiated).

I also received many freebies when the record labels sent promo material, and by the time I had to give up my part-time job after a few years, I had amassed a record collection of over 600 vinyl albums.

And then, as the years went by, I slowly got rid of them all. Vinyl gave way to compact discs, MP3 players, iPods, and iPhones.

I worked at the record store on the last day we sold actual records and filled all the bins with CDs, which was a surreal experience, considering we kept the place's name as Flipside Records.

Fast forward to 2024, over 30 years later, and something interesting is happening in the music business. Not only is vinyl making a comeback, but more vinyl records are being made today than when I worked at the record store.

I have begun rebuilding my record collection by visiting various record stores here in Austin, all selling new and used vinyl. And everywhere I travel, I tend to find record stores to see, like Easy Street Records in Seattle, which pretty much looks like heaven to me:

I've been thinking about the resurgence of vinyl records for a while now, and I have some thoughts about why they've made such a comeback. It's not merely an "everything old is new again" kind of thing; it's deeper than that.

People are buying vinyl records because of the experience. After a couple of decades of digital music, more people than ever want the experience of buying an album, holding it, opening it, reading the liner notes, and then putting it on a turntable to listen to.

And you can't skip tracks with a vinyl record like you can with your iPhone. You have to listen to all of it.

It slows down the process of listening to music when you put on a vinyl record. You must turn it over when side one is complete, which demands that you be more present.

The spiritual connection in all of this is that in a world of immediacy and less tangible experiences, we find ourselves craving what is tangible, which requires less immediacy and less convenience but more joy.

For this reason, faith communities dedicated to showing Jesus through inclusivity, acceptance, love, and grace embody something many in our current culture long for but may not be able to express.

Those of us in faith communities who embody Jesus's love and grace are well-positioned to speak into the void that so many feel in this emerging new age.

May we do all we can to offer tangible means of love, hope, joy and peace. May we embody Jesus in ways that draw people to faith. And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.

#dailydevotional #leonbloder #dailydevo #faith #leon bloder #spiritualgrowth #christian living #dailydevotion #spirituality #presbymusings

0 notes

sgt-mark-smith · 1 year

Text

Confession time: I don’t like the Bea/Will ship. I’m sorry, I don’t!

Spoilers under the cut.

Started this at an ungodly hour, and I’m not sure even the final version of this will make sense, but here we go.

First of all! This fucken series took a feminist would-be doctor and wifed her! It really is kind of unbelievable how much this show wifed her: at the end of the tiresome “will they won’t they,” she even ended up giving up on going back to med school to tie herself more tightly to the guy. Goddamn, really??

And I hate how they’re so constantly at odds and quarreling! I get there’s Fun Tension, and that disagreement is the Spice in a relationship, but it’s super not for me. And it’s just one thing after another: - he's a teacher screwing his student; - then they get busted and he asks to marry her, conveniently covering his professional ass and also pressing her into a life of domestic servitude that she doesn't want; - then he won't appropriately diagnose Manaaki (and when he does get Manaaki sent home he has to let Bea know he still thinks her medical opinions are Definitely Wrong); - then there's him having his Last Night with Bea before dropping a suicide-breakup note on her to 'cut ties!' And that last one was in the last freaking episode! I get that we're supposed to feel for him because war trauma, but Jesus Christ Will!

Here’s the thing: Will’s a piece of shit to Bea, okay?? I get it, everybody’s sexist, especially all the men, but that doesn’t mean I have to like how shitty he is. And like, she objects to him being a sexist piece of shit to her, and it’s kind of at the core of a lot of their fights. And I’m uncomfortable with the way the show seems to be framing their fights as a matter of them both being stubborn or whatever, when really a lot of it reads to me like him assuming he has the right to something or knows best about something, and her getting fed up with his presumption.

But I’m supposed to believe that they’ll totally make a fine couple.

And I get that the idea of their finally getting together for realsies after all their conflicts is supposed to be a case of ‘the hardships of war making them both see what’s really important’ … but it feels way too much like bonding through shared trauma for me (“trauma bonding” means something else, as I understand). I know, I know, that’s the appeal, but it doesn’t appeal to me.

And did this show seriously try to convince me that a teacher-student relationship is totally cool and can turn out fine in the end?? What the hell.

And like. Here’s the thing. I think the show wants me to believe that a lot of the major issues are getting worked out at the end and will be worked out in the future. But this is one of those things where a piece of media has to function emotionally as well as logically: I could reasonably infer that there’s a future in which Will and Bea are a relatively healthy married couple, but I’m not inclined to believe it because I haven’t seen enough of them actually getting along.

EDIT: it's like 2.5 rewatches later and like. The fact that that whole was apparently supposed to be resolved by a newly-wifed Bea pulling out of med school because "I wanna go where you are babe" as a part of getting him to Choose Life and Choose Hope ... I'm speechless. Speechless!

And the fact that Will as a character is more or less a love interest and any 'arc' he has is tied up in Bea and his relationship with Bea, his continued fuckups are most of his character! God. I expect if this show gets a fandom that most of the girlies will go easy on Will, and I expect they'll love the 'will-they-won't-they' ship, but not me!

#wwgtw spoilers #wwgtw meta #bea smith #will chambers #the bea/will ship #when we go to war 2015 #when we go to war miniseries #shipping

1 note · View note

god-whispers · 1 year

Text

jun 4

the paradox (a repeat daily)

"take heed and beware of covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses." luke 12:15 "the rich and the poor have this in common, the Lord is the maker of them all." pro 22:2 i worry many have become so carnal in their nature. perhaps more so here in america where most have lived in the lap of plenty, or experienced the benefits of assistance. we cannot even imagine living in a grass hut with clean, with no running water, or wondering each day whether food or medical assistance may come. yes, there are many still like that. or perhaps they live in fear whether one's life may be endangered because they choose to call Jesus Lord.

i know this isn't descriptive of everyone, but how easily and deceptively one ventures from the narrow path. beloved, the day is far spent and the darkness is approaching; one can feel it in the Spirit. i'm just saying, "don't let the enemy distract you from the prize awaiting". we have need of endurance if we are to finish our race.

------

THE PARADOX OF OUR AGE by dr. bob moorehead

we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.

we spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less.

we have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time.

we have more degrees, but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, but more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

we drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, pray too seldom, and watch too much TV.

we have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

we talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often.

we've learned how to make a living, but not a life, we've added years to life, not life to years.

we've been to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor.

we've conquered outer space, but not inner space, we've done larger things, but not better things, we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.

we've split the atom, but not our prejudice, We write more, but learn less, plan more, but accomplish less.

we've learned to rush, but not wait, we have higher incomes, but lower morals, more food, but less appeasement, more acquaintances, but fewer friends, more effort, but less success.

these are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, tall men, and short character, steep profits, and shallow relationships.

these are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare, more leisure and less fun, more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

these are the days of two incomes, but more divorce, of fancier houses, but broken homes.

these are the days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands,overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

it is a time when there is much in the show window, and nothing in the stockroom.

today, many want to gain the world at the "mere" expense of their souls.

evil is contemplated and performed with both hands, yet we cannot lift a finger for our fellow man.

may God have mercy on our souls. pray without ceasing. ket each of us examine our own ways.

------

i know none of this is the attitude of any of my readers, but it is prevalent in the world today. we must all show forth the love of Christ, not condoning lies, but standing up for the truth of the gospel. let us live to magnify His life and open a door for someone who is lost. "Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." john 14:6

0 notes

shisnhou · 3 years

Note

can i request bakugou’s s/o telling him she’s pregnant? and maybe the aftermath of the pregnancy a year later with their child turning one?

one plus one, equals three

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female!reader

genre: fluff

cw: children

wc: 1.5k

an: —

you’re looking down at the test stick, a mix of emotions surfing with anticipation causing a wave of disarray in your mind. you’re biting down on your lip a bit too hard, to the point where you can feel the metallic taste of your blood on the tip of your tongue. your breath is caught up in your throat while your foot bounces up and down, awaiting for the result to pop up on the small screen of the white pregnancy test.

you’ve been awfully sick for the past two weeks. waking up only to then run to the nearest bathroom and puking out everything that you had last night, constant nausea throughout the whole day, absurd cravings at the most random hours of the day, bloating and feeling full even if you’ve only eaten the small bit of food; you’ve had enough of it.

you wanted to check-in with the doctors, but you felt like it would be too much of a hassle to go to the nearest hospital, and you’ve only missed two days of your period so you really can’t really be too sure yet. so instead of going to the doctors, you went down the convenience store, bought yourself not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests and using them.

however, while you’re waiting and zoned out in the bathroom, you fail to notice the clicking noises of the door being unlocked. also failing to notice the husky call of your name from your husband who had just arrived in the flat.

“(y/n)?” you snap out of your subconscious space when three moderately loud knocks hit your senses. you snap your neck to the doorway, panicking for a split second before you realize bakugo had just gotten home.

“i’m in here!” you say aloud, making sure he doesn’t make his way in and find the processing tests. you look down on the tests, as they’re close to finishing up. you can’t leave it now, not when it’s near down after waiting a good five minutes.

“baby, can you let me in? i have a nasty bruise on my arm.” he asks you with a hint of pain in his voice. your senses heighten, panic arising in you causing you to yelp in slight fear. “promise i won’t peak, i just really need this to be patched and i’ll be done.”

you bite down on your lip contemplating if you should let him in, or how to let him in without him seeing the test sticks. you’re thinking of just patching him outside instead, but you haven’t seen how big his gash is, so you figure you’d just have to lie about it instead.

“come in, the door isn’t locked.” you tell him, to which he complies, quickly opening the door and stepping into the bathroom. you look at him and then stare at big gash on his arm.

“jesus christ!” you exclaim, quickly grabbing him by the less bruised arm. he lets you drag him around, knowing that if he’d say something now, you’d only fire back with a nag. “what the hell happened to you??”

“sorry, there was a building that was failing apa—” you shut him up with a stern glare, grabbing the shower head and turning to to warm. he glowers down at your glare, knowing what’s coming next.

“are you kidding me?? a building?! you could’ve gotten more hurt than this katsuki!” you voice out your worries, quickly grabbing the anti bacterial soap behind him and pouring it on his wound. he hisses a tad bit, but you don’t look at him afraid that you may accidentally start crying in-front of him.

“sorry.” he mumbles, watching as you rinse the blood out. rising from your position, you walk to the nearest drawer in the mirror and look for the dressing you’ve been keeping there. however, you don’t see anything. you look for it on the second one, the third one, and lastly the fourth one; but to you concern, there is none.

sighing, you look at your husband who’s experimentally poking around the skin of his wound. “i’m going to go grab some gauze, don’t do anything stupid.” you say, before walking out of the room. bakugo watches you walk out before he can finally stand from the bathtub and go towards the vanity.

he looks at his gash at the mirror, lips pouting a bit when he knows it’s going to form another big scar. not that he minds, he has always thought about it as rewards, permanent marks of his accomplishment. he leans into the mirror before backing up a bit, his eyes catching something nearby.

three white sticks.

he looks at it from his side, it’s unfamiliar to him. his hand reaches out for one of the three items and brings the stick up to his face. the back of it is facing him, so he flips it over. and lo and behold, two straight lines are displayed in-front of him. he cocks a brow, unsure what this is supposed to be. he hasn’t seen these things in ages, so he can’t quite pick out what this is.

“hey babe?” he calls, eyes still laid on the white stick. you don’t say anything, simply choosing to step inside the open space and humming him a response. “what’s this?”

“what’s wh— oh.”

your heart drops when he shows you the positive test. your breath hitches, stuck in your throat, mind trying to form an excuse of sorts. you know that bakugo isn’t at the current state to be wanting nor needing a child, even though you two have been married for a while now. however, you don’t want to lie to him as well, you damn well know lying will only put a strain to your relationship and he wouldn’t take that well.

“bab—”

“a pregnancy test!” you say loud and fast, yelling at him almost. eyes closed while you wait for his rambling to come, wait for him to yell at you for not being careful enough. “katsuk—”

“oh god— we’re going to be parents?” he whispers, tears now pooling in his eyes. a proud smile is on his face, eyes trailing the white stick. you watch your husband, joyous as he takes one more glance at the test before looking back at you.

“baby.” he whispers, almost running towards you and wrapping his huge arms around you. you place your hands on his neck, burying yourself on his neck, his musk spreading to his nose. “i love you. i love you. i love you. god— christ i love you.” he repeatedly whispers into your ears, spinning you around as he lines up kisses to your cheek.

he pulls you away from his neck, looking into your eyes and loosing himself in all its beauty, and the beauty of its beholder. you smile tenderly at him, hand to his cheek as he presses his forehead against yours. “thank you, you’re the best. god thank you baby.” without hesitation his presses his lips against yours. and instead of giving the same intensity with his usual lip-locks, he does it softly. passionate, sweet, and slow, adoration filled kiss as he holds you by your cheek.

it takes a few more seconds of his passionate kiss before he opens his crimson eyes and look down at you before kneeling in-front of you. eyes trained on yours, while his hands press on your stomach. he smiles and looks at it, pressing his lips on the skin and rubbing it softly.

“hey little guy, it’s me your dad, welcome to the family.”

“happy birthday to you!” you finish up your song for the little man who is giggling in his seat, hands clasped as he rejoices. it’s your son’s first birthday, and he’s just as excited as you and your husband are. bakugo lights up the small candle and lets the child blow out the small flame.

“happy birthday little guy!” bakugo greets him, pulling him up from his baby seat and throwing him up into the air. the child giggles, incoherent baby talk coming out of his lips as his father flies him around. you smile at them both, taking a photo of them before settling down your phone and pressing record.

“happy birthday lovebug.” you greet the child, softly pinching his cheek as he giggles at you two. his hands fly over to you, signifying that he wants to be with you instead. you cheekily smile at your husband, snatching the baby from him.

“you like your mama better little man?” the ash blond asks, now standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“awe, is that true little guy?” you tease your husband, smirking lightly as you coddle the child in your soft hold. “you like mama better?”

“m— p— ma-pa!”

“you just said your first words!”

you look at your husband who’s reaching out for the kid and kissing him all over the face. the little child giggles, repeating his first words again. you smile at bakugo, nearing them both and kissing your son his cheek, congratulating him and wishing him a happy birthday.

bakugo kisses the child on the cheek then kissing you on the lips softly smile present on his face while he performs both actions.

“god, i love you both, thank you for being a part of my life.”

content belongs to @shisnhou on tumblr! do not repost, copy, use, or modify!

939 notes · View notes

finn-writes-stuff · 3 years

Note

First of all congratulations! Now I could I request 33 from the dialog prompts with sniper from tf2?

33. “There’s…. Only one bed.”

I’ll be honest, I’m not super happy with this. It’s something though, so enjoy?

Sniper x Reader

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Format: Drabble

Gender-neutral reader

Tf2 Masterlist

Commission Info

Today had been a very long day.

You and Sniper had been sent off base for what had seemed like a simple mission, but everything that could’ve gone wrong, had gone wrong. Sniper had dark bruises along his jaw, and you were covered in mud.

It was a long story, but suffice to say, you both couldn’t wait to get into your hotel room and fall asleep. Ms Pauline had booked the rooms, and she was usually good for making sure it wasn’t a flea infested motel at least.

You both had high hopes for at least a good nights sleep after this awful day. Sniper had been leaning on you the whole way to the hotel, the exhaustion in his bones apparent. (It couldn’t have been comfortable for him to lean on you like that, with how tall he was, but you weren’t going to complain. You liked having him close.)

The smell of his cigarettes clung to him, a telltale sign of how stressful today had been. You knew he didn’t often smoke on the job, especially never when waiting with his rifle. But after everything going wrong, you couldn’t fault him a few smokes.

You’d been trying to get closer with sniper for a while now, his dry sarcasm was all the more endearing when you knew you got to hear it so much more than the rest of the team. He was still quiet around you, but you’d gained enough of his trust and respect to be the one he made his quips to when one of the other Mercs were being stupid.

And so you had expected to relish this mission, getting to spend some time alone with him. This was supposed to be great! Instead you were counting down the seconds until you could get a shower, and he was practically falling asleep on his feet as you walked into the hotel.

You knew you must’ve been a sight but you smiled wearily at the receptionist, rattling off the fake name the reservation was under. They seemed concerned, but you sped through the interaction,

Avoiding questions, Once that awkward conversation was over and you had the room key, you pulled Sniper along with you to the elevator.

“Just one room?” He asked as you pressed the button for your floor.

“Yep, haven’t you heard Pauline? There have been a bunch of budget cuts lately for her. Getting us two king suites is a bit much to ask for, I suppose,” You tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a tired cough.

“So long as I’m not sleeping on a hard floor, I’m happy,” he replied. Sniper’s smile was tired but sweet, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Your matching smiles stuck around as you walked down the hall to your rooms

Of course, when you opened the door to the hotel room, your smiles dropped.

“There’s…. Only one bed.” You said slowly, walking into the room and looking around as if another would be hiding around the corner.

“God fucking damnit.” Sniper had walked over to the bed, and grabbed a note that was lying on the blanket. “Sorry guys, budget cuts. You know how it is. Pauline.” He read out, scoffing. “Fucking budget cuts.”

“She really couldn’t have warned us beforehand?” You asked, dropping your bag by the wall.

“Probably knew we’d bother her for something better. It’s fine, I can sleep on the floor.” He replied.

“What? You had a long day, got beat up, and not three minutes ago said that you didn’t want to sleep in the floor, Snipes,” you said immediately. He looked like death warmed over right now, there’s no way you were gonna make him sleep on the floor. “I can take the floor,” you insisted.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor. You can have the bed.”

“Well you’re not sleeping on the floor either! You need the bed more than I do.”

“I’m taking the floor.”

“If you sleep on the floor I will to!”

“Crikey, either I sleep on the floor or we share the bed, alright? I’m not making ya sleep on the floor.”

“Then we can share,” you said “It’ll be fine, and we’ll both sleep better there than the floor.”

“That’s fine with me then.” He dropped his bag on the bed, and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “You can use the shower first, Go ahead.”

You weren’t going to argue with that, you could feel the mud everywhere and it was awful.

You jumped through the shower quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting for his turn, and did your best to keep your thoughts away from the situation at hand. Sharing a bed with him? It was out of convenience of course but still! What if you accidentally invaded his space in your sleep and he hated you for it? And he’d be so close to you either way!

Keeping your thoughts away clearly wasn’t working. You towelled off your hair roughly when you got out of the shower, shaking the thoughts away.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you say Sniper sitting at the edge of the bed, looking half asleep already. His stuff had been moved to the side of the bed, which took the burden of choosing a side off of you at least. He yawned as he stood up and walked past you, and you were hit with how exhausted you were too.

It was simple enough to slip into some pyjamas and get set up on your side of the bed. The only thing that kept you from passing out was the anxiety biting at your thoughts. Sharing a bed with him like this was totally platonic and just cause of work stuff. There was no reason to get all worked up about it.

Right?

That line of reasoning unfortunately went out the window when Sniper walked back into the room, with only some grey sweats on. Jesus Christ. You were thankful that he seemed too tired to notice you ogling him.

When he laid down in the bed, you were struck by how small the space was. He was so close to you. Not quite touching you but you could feel the warmth he radiated like a heater.

“Get some sleep, alright? We both need it,” he said, turning off the lmao next to him.

He was right, and you were tired. So even his proximity didn’t keep you from passing out just about as soon as you closed your eyes.

When you woke up, you were warm and comfortable. That was nice, but as your brain slowly turned on, you realized you should not have been warm and comfortable in this hotel room, it was the bare minimum of good enough.

Cracking your eyes open, you were met with the fact that you were curled up half on Sniper’s chest with his arms wrapped around your waist.

Fuck.

What were you supposed to do? Move? What if you woke him up? But it would be weirder if you didn’t, right?

You tried to slowly sit up, and you very quickly realized that his hold on you was too tight to just pull away without waking him up. So now you were sitting at an angle looking down at his sleeping face. He looked peaceful. When awake, Sniper always looked so stressed, but in this moment, he was calm.

You were significantly less calm. Especially when he cracked an eye open to look up at you.

“Go back t’sleep,” he mumbled, pulling you back down onto his chest. One of his hands moved up to your hair, gently holding you as he fell back asleep, his breath evening out once again.

#finnwrites #tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 #dialogue prompts #milestone event

276 notes · View notes

gdcatboys · 2 years

Note

The marriage of convenience/miscommunication AU.

Techno’s bastion is mistreating him, so when an outlander offers him a golden apple he’s like “he’s rich and he’s hot and he’s not from here, I’ll marry him”. Phil thinks he’s hiring a guide and got a good looking specimen.

After a day of travel, techno knows that his new husband is considerate, rich, likes to laugh, and choked on thin air when he offered sex that evening. After a day of travel Phil knows his new guard is good looking and smart, hilarious, and Jesus Christ there must be some cultural stuff because he just offered sex like he was asking which side of the fire someone wants to sleep on. But slut arc let’s go why not.

They travel for a while and Phil is like “best guide ever” and techno is shyly falling in love with his new husband. He wants to make him happy and stay with him for always. Which is why it hurts very much when they make it to the city and Phil says “it was nice knowing you” and leaves. So maybe he’s a bit over-emotional when he follows him through the portal but he didn’t have a lot left on the nether side.

Phil is horrified that his guide followed him into danger, but hey he must really want to travel? If he eats a golden apple a day he should be fine. He can stay at the house for a bit while he gets used to the overworld? There’s no ceiling, the lava is weird. Techno is distrustful of everything and determined to be the best possible husband so Phil leaves him less. Yes he does the cooking yes hr does the cleaning no he doesn’t have opinions. Phil, staring at the ceiling and cuddled into the arms of the guide who hasn’t left him in weeks “oh Shit he likes me doesn’t he.” Meanwhile techno, thinking him asleep, is going to so gently kiss the top of his head while he won’t notice.

They are a MESS and I don’t think we ever resolved them. Techno was hurting his feelings on purpose to keep from being too demanding about kisses or cuddles or attention. Phil was still not believing anyone would want to be with him, god’s greatest mistake.

Technically this should actually probably go over on my personal blog, considering this is not even pretending to be a catboys au lol. But I think you're right! We never did resolve it, did we??

#katy answers #i love this au but yeah #this is not even a little bit catboys lmao

22 notes · View notes

cyncerity · 2 years

Text

Finding Family

Chapter 2

1 2 3

notes: Next chapter! I was very excited for this one cause I finally get to write for everyone I like to write for in this chapter. Also, first chapter is also under the “Finding Family” tag if you haven’t read it <3

And oh boy we may be starting to get into plot here >:)

tw: none

The next morning was seemingly as normal as always as Schlatt woke up, stretching and reaching to take his phone off the charger. He groggily checked to see if there were any missed messages and was a bit more than surprised to see over 50 missed FaceTime calls from…Charlie of all people? Huh. That was…odd. Schlatt was about to call him back when the phone started to vibrate in his hands, showing Charlie’s profile picture.

He accepted the call to see Charlie looking more tired than he’d ever seen him, along with Minx just slightly farther from the phone, petting a giant guinea pig. Well, not giant, but on calls it was easy to forget just how small Charlie and Minx really were, so the sight off-put him a bit. “Jesus Christ, dude, finally! We’ve been trying to call you for like 40 fucking minutes!” Charlie shouted, interrupting Schlatt’s thoughts. “Yeah, I noticed. What the fuck is this urgent?” “There’s more borrowers coming to your apartment.”

Schlatt raised an eyebrow as he sat up and turned his lights on. “So? There’s a lot of you coming here already, what’s a few more?” “You don’t get it. My captain’s coming here. He ran the colony when the extermination happened. Y’know, in that apartment.” Schlatt winced at that, especially when he saw Minx’s eyes fall to the ground in the background. He knew that she had been in the colony longer than Charlie, and he expected that she had been there when it happened, but he never clarified it with her. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t force her to.

“I get that there’s been some bad shit that happened here, alright? But I didn’t have anything to do with that, and you know it. Just tell your captain that and-“ “He doesn’t get it.” Charlie interrupted. “He doesn’t think humans can be like us. He thinks you’re all soulless sociopathic monsters, he’s not willing to give human-borrower relations a chance.” “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Hide anything that could let the captain know that Tubbo is there. Ladders, ropes, anything you made to fit Tubbo’s size, hide it. Lock up his room and make sure he’s out of the apartment for the day.” Minx said, lifting her head in the background and joining the conversation. She stood up from Mochi’s side and walked closer to the screen. “I don’t think the captain would hurt him, but I don’t think he’d be to happy to know that a borrower as young as Tubbo has lived with humans for so long. I wouldn’t hold it past him to…take measures into his own hands.”

Schlatt sighed, swinging his legs off the bed and getting ready to start his day which was apparently going to consist of hiding all the small ropes and ladders he had set up for the borrowers’ convenience. “Alright, I get it, it’s urgent or something.” He said, running a hand down his face as he tried to make sense of the (apparently very non-specific) threat that this random borrower posed to his son. “When is this happening?” “Tomorrow before dawn.” Charlie answered. “Make sure Tubbo knows to stay away.” “Got it. Now if you’ll excuse me-“ “Go tell him now before you forget.” Minx interjected, crossing her arms. “I know how you are, Schlatt, your gonna put off tellin him and I’m gonna have to go and yell at you in person.” “How about you don’t tell me what to do you little bi-“ “Don’t fucking start with this it’s too early...” Charlie sighed.

“Jesus Christ fine, I get it, I’ll go wake him and tell him what you told me. He can stay in Quackity’s apartment tonight into tomorrow, is that what you want to hear?” Tension that Schlatt hadn’t even noticed before drained out of Charlie and Minx, their shoulders dropping and both of them seeming just a bit less stressed. “Yeah, that’s what we wanna hear.” Charlie answered, Minx nodding right next to him. “Sorry to bug you this early, dude, I wouldn’t if this weren’t important.” Charlie sighed. “Don’t worry about it, you ever need anything just call. But I have a kid to go wake up, so…” Charlie laughed slightly. “Yeah, man, go do that. I’ll see you later!” Charlie smiled back, him, Schlatt, and Minx waving as he hung up the call. Schlatt set his phone down fully got out of bed, stretching and letting his joints pop into place. He needed to go warn Tubbo about whatever was going on tomorrow. And, as much as he liked to pretend Minx didn’t know anything, she was probably right about him forgetting if he waited too long to tell Tubbo.

~~~

Tubbo sat up, stretching as he yawned. He leaned over a pressed a small black button just to his right. The large duck nightlight (a gift from Quackity when he was very young that he had promptly named “Benson”) glowed brightly, illuminating the small corner of the cupboard he called a room. As he stood up and opened the little chest full of his clothes he flicked a few more switched stuck to the walls, turning on bee shaped fairy lights that had been stapled to his ceiling, fully lighting up the rest of the room.

He wasn’t sure what a normal room looked like for other borrowers, but he liked his room. Back when he was younger, on his 10th birthday if his memory served him right, his dad had cleaned out and fully re-purposed a cupboard in the kitchen for Tubbo to turn into a bedroom, and had given him full say over what went in it. He and his dads had spent hours online looking for decorations to make it feel like a normal human room. And that it did.

There were a weird number of things perfectly his size that humans used for things like school lockers and dollhouses, and he had found him-sized normal appliances like shelves, vanities, beds, and other things. Did he choose to use these things? Admittedly…no. Not most of them, anyway. He took advantage of having a few chests, chairs, and a nice little bee carpet that he found on Etsy, but there were still plenty of things in his room that were fashioned from bigger things than him. And while some borrowers might have jumped at the chance to have a room that didn’t remind them of their small stature, Tubbo couldn’t bring himself to care. After all, apparently beanbags make great beds! And Schlatt had the great idea to install an outlet in his room and glue a phone case to the wall, so it was like having a giant tv screen right across from his bed! He didn’t know many humans who had that. Well, he didn’t know many humans, period, but it made him feel good anyway. And it certainly beat the drawer in Schlatt’s room that he slept in for the majority of his life.

His morning routine was interrupted by a short knock on his “door” (and by door he meant the entire wall that faced away from the kitchen). “One second!” He yelled as he finished changing from his pajamas into regular clothes. He ran to a small lever to the right of his bed and pulled, releasing the wall and lowering it down till it was an extension of his floor.

That was another thing he liked about his room: both walls did that. It reminded him of the mystical castles in fairy tales he was told as a child, where a door would be lowered over a dangerous moat and allow entry to a some magical kingdom, which he thought was cool as shit. One wall could fall down towards his kitchen and give him a view of the window, where he could see the whole city. The other would fall down towards the living room, and he could interact with his family from the comfort of his own room. And that wall specifically was lined with a fluffy carpet! How cool was that?

The wall fell and Tubbo made his way onto the extension where Schlatt was standing, plopping down onto the carpet and idly fiddling with the course fabric. “What’s up?” “I got a…weird call from Charlie and Minx earlier. They said some other borrowers are coming over tomorrow and-“ Tubbo’s eyes widened as he cut of his father. “New borrowers?” He couldn’t help the excitement that rose up on his chest. New borrowers. More people like him. As much as he loved his human family, he knew so few borrowers, and the idea of conversing with someone new and his size was more than intriguing. “Hold on,” Schlatt interrupted his train of thought. “Charlie said it was really important that you absolutely don’t make contact with them. He and Minx were being really cryptic and shit, but they seemed serious. Said their captain and some others were coming by and Minx said she didn’t know what would happen to you if you were spotted.” Tubbo tried to process that. Why couldn’t he meet them? Would they hurt him? Were they cruel? Would they not want a borrower that wasn’t in their colony intruding in their territory or something? But Schlatt said Uncle Charlie and Aunt Minx referred to the new borrower as their “captain.” Uncle Charlie and Aunt Minx wouldn’t live with cruel borrowers, they were too nice for that. Schlatt apparently saw how much Tubbo was thinking about it, and began to lightly trail his fingers down Tubbo’s back, causing the borrower to snap out of his spiral of thoughts. “Look, I don’t know what the fucks going on either, but you should probably spend the night at Q’s place while I hide your ladders and shit, how about that?” Schlatt said, concern obvious in his tone. And though Tubbo would absolutely love to know what’s going on, he realized that whatever was happening was happening for his own good. He trusted Uncle Charlie and Aunt Minx and he definitely trusted his Dad.

“…Ok,” Tubbo nodded. “Sounds good. I can bug them about this in a few days.” Schlatt laughed lightly. “Me too, bud. Now what do you say we go get some breakfast, huh?” Tubbo grinned, nodding his head and stepping off the wall extension back into his room. He jokingly saluted as he pulled the lever once again and the wall began to rise. Schlatt smiled and saluted back. Tubbo laughed as the wall clicked back into place and he turned around to the lever on the left of his bed, pulling it and lowering the wall adjacent to the kitchen. The moment the wall was lowered enough, Tubbo jumped out. He knew Schlatt wouldn’t let him fall. And sure enough, he fell for approximately two seconds before he was caught, his father mumbling something about “lack of self preservation instincts,” but Tubbo was too busy laughing to care. Schlatt set him on the windowsill and began to get ingredients for breakfast out. Tubbo leaned against the cool glass of the window and watched the sunrise over the silhouette of the city, the colors blending together mesmerizing him.

He sat and stared until the sky was fully blue and the sun hurt his eyes. He turned to his dad, who was putting a very small amount of yogurt and very crushed up granola into a tiny bowl (that had been probably been made to go in a dollhouse set) with the ease that only someone who had done this everyday for twelve years would be able to do. “Hey Dad?” Tubbo asked. “Yeah?” “Can me, Ranboo, and Tommy have a sleepover?” Schlatt finished filling the little bowl and gave it to Tubbo, scruffing his hair with one finger. “Sure thing, kiddo, just don’t get into too much trouble.”

~~~

“…So apparently I’m just not allowed to meet them! What kind of bullshit is that?!” Tubbo ranted, pacing back and forth across the floor of Ranboo and Tommy’s “house.” In reality, it was a few small interconnected rooms in the walls with little light and more dust than he would ever consider ok if he lived here, but neither other borrower seemed to mind it. That, and the one time Tubbo had brought it up, both of his friends had mocked him for being “extremely wealthy” and “too upperclass to be in the dwelling space of peasants like them” for a month. And don’t even get him started on the “eat the rich” comments, he still gets those. So yeah. Tubbo would deal with the shoddy living space that his best friends apparently preferred, all of them sitting in the one room that was just slightly larger than the other three, apparently making it the living room.

“That’s…weird.” Tommy said from where he sat on the floor. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? They don’t like you, so what? They’re not gonna murder you if they’re friends of Charlie’s.” “That’s what I was thinking!!” Tubbo shouted in frustration, flopping backwards onto a stolen cornhole beanbag that Ranboo was sitting on, laying directly on top of him. Ranboo didn’t seem to mind. That, or he had just gotten used to this. Tubbo assumed it was the latter, but like hell was he getting up. Ranboo was comfy.

“Are they a threat to you specifically or to any borrowers in this area? Cause if they were dangerous, Charlie would have told us, too, since we’re pretty close to your apartment.” Ranboo added, completely ignoring the fact the Tubbo was on top of him. “That’s a good point. But what would they want with me?” Tubbo thought aloud. The three of them sat thinking for a minute before Tommy turned to the other two with a mischievous grin on his face, his cat like eyes narrowing the way they did every time he got a bad idea. “Why don’t we find out?” He said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No…” Ranboo started, turning to Tubbo who, to his horror, seemed to be actually thinking over the idea. “No! Absolutely not! We don’t know who these people are, and even if they’re not a threat to me and Tommy, are we really willing to risk you like that?” Ranboo finished, pulling Tubbo off of him to look him in the eyes. Tubbo sighed.

He didn’t like disobeying people he cared about, since he knew that they did everything for his well-being. He shouldnt want to spy on random borrowers. But…his dad was confused, too, wasn’t he? He knew what was going on about as well as Tubbo did, and Tubbo was confused as hell. So, maybe he was spying for the both of them? A flimsy excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Besides, when had Tubbo ever just denied a chance for adventure? “…as long as we aren’t seen it should be fine.” Tubbo finally answered. Ranboo groaned and put his face in his hands as Tommy whooped in excitement. “But we absolutely can’t be seen!” Tubbo rushed to clarify. “Even if we figure out those borrowers aren’t an actual threat, I’d get an earful from Uncle Charlie and Dad. We have to be sneaky about this.” “Don’t even worry about it, Tubs, sneaky is my middle name.” Tommy said, moving to the shorter borrower to sling an arm around his shoulder. “Uh huh. Because trying to steal an entire can of coke out of a fridge and then cussing out Sapnap when you got caught is the definition of sneaky.” Ranboo deadpanned at his roommate. “Tell me, is ‘Sneaky’ before or after ‘Careful Danger Kraken’?” “Why don’t you shut up, boob boy? My many middle names are just too cool for you.” Tommy shot back, sticking his tongue out at Ranboo. Tubbo laughed at their antics, the lighthearted banter helping ease some of the weight off his chest. This was gonna go well. It had to. So why was he so nervous on just spying on a few borrowers? Maybe it was just the lack of specified risk. His dad said Charlie wasn’t specific about why Tubbo had to stay away. That had to be it. But he didn’t have anything to be afraid of, it wasn’t like he was doing this alone, he had his two best friends coming along. And he didn’t think they were dangerous borrowers. So, there wasn’t anything that could go wrong…

Right?

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #cyncerity #dad’s troubles au #Finding Family #cynwrites #tiny!tubbo #giant!schlatt #tiny!tommy #tiny!ranboo #g/t #can you tell I like writing bench trio dialogue #also sorry I went into like a 2 paragraph description of Tubbo’s room #I don’t have an excuse I just really wanted to #y’all aren’t ready for the next chapter 👀#I’m just saying that now cause none of you have guessed the twist I’ve been hinting at for a few months >:)#heck I may have said it at some point idk but I still don’t think y’all are ready #I’m very proud of myself for actually committing to a chapter series despite my lack of perserverance and patience #also random bit but the eat the rich bit is a v*re reference #I wasn’t going to tag the whole story with v*re because of one sentence #but yes Tommy and Ranboo make fun of Tubbo for getting eaten and after the rich jokes start the eat the rich jokes come naturally #finding family

47 notes · View notes