#with an emphasis on them still being generally happy

[kdotan]

Writing anxiety into my characters is something that can and is very personal to me.

[ddarker-dreams]

Intimidation Ranking / Yan Sumeru Boys.

Kaveh — 2/10

Like... he's writing your names next to one another in his notebook and drawing a heart around it. Kaveh isn't inspiring much fear in the traditional sense. You find him endearing more than anything. He visibly brightens up when you're around, stares off into the horizon and sighs when you're not. His more socially unacceptable tendencies are kept under lock and key (such as his innumerable blueprints for how he'll build your house when you get married, despite how you're both only friends). His romantic rivals don't have to fear for their lives as much as they would if put up against the others on this list. That being said, he still has his methods for dealing with them. It's more psychological in nature. Once he's cemented himself as an important figure in your life, he'll 'exaggerate the truth' (he thinks the word lying has a negative connotation), about any rivals' negative traits. He does this covertly over increments of time so as not to arouse any suspicion. You couldn't possibly look at Kaveh and suspect any wrongdoing on his part.

Alhaitham — 5/10

Alhaitham is weird because he has the potential to rank high, but he'd rather not go that route if it isn't necessary. Outsourcing to criminals would require extra work. He'd prefer to stay in the realm of legality for convenience's sake, perhaps pushing gray areas, but nothing that'll require a major coverup. Just a little good old-fashioned coercion if you're being stubborn about returning his affections. He's crafty, he needn't get his hands dirty to obtain the outcome he desires. Should you be of an academic inclination, he'll utilize his influence in those spheres to impede your progress. There's no physical evidence so you have no means of retaliation. Given his dispassionate demeanor, people will have a hard time believing you should you tell them about this. Alhaitham himself will utilize a similar tactic should you ever confront him. His sound logic and steady voice make you wonder if you really are imagining everything. It's maddening.

Cyno — 7.5/10

Cyno is a force of nature. Once he's set his sights on you, that's it. While it isn't you who needs to be frightened per se, the same cannot be said for those he deems as questionable influences in your life (basically anyone who isn't him that receives your attention). He has the authority and resources to comb through their entire bloodline for any potential wrongdoings. No one's lived a perfect life, he's bound to find something, even if it just ends with them having to pay a fine. Still, in a highly competitive area like Sumeru, having anything on their record is a death sentence. Rumors start circulating that anyone who hangs out around you is subject to meticulous background checks. No one knows why, but that doesn't matter, the risk alone serves as a sufficient deterrent. If they cheated on a test when they were ten, Cyno is going to find out. The man's nothing if not determined. Cyno genuinely thinks he's doing this in your best interest — his conscience is crystal clear. This adds another layer of formidability because there will be no convincing him to stop.

Wanderer — 9/10

As Scaramouche, it would've been a 10/10, but he's had some character development. Emphasis on the word some. Nahida considers his budding attachment to you a healthy development, especially since you're the first person he's taken an active interest in without her involvement. He's keen on maintaining this innocent, well-meaning façade since he's still under surveillance for his previous crimes. This unintentionally works wonders for him. While he still has a sharp tongue, the fact he actively chooses to be in your general vicinity proves you're special to him. You think he's harmless, if not a touch blunt. He's perpetually hanging around and offering to help with whatever you're up to. You're happy, Nahida's happy, and surprisingly enough, he's happy. This cannot be said for anyone else in your friend group. He increases his unpleasantness when around them, never to an incriminating degree, but just enough to give them pause. They'd rather not deal with him and he's always around you, like a miserable little forcefield that repels any outside force. Wanderer may not be free to wreak havoc anymore, but all that means is that he has to get creative about it. Nahida's lack of omnipotence gives him enough room to slink around. Where there's a will, there's a way.

[paranorahjones]

Love and Attraction in My Adventures with Superman

As someone who has never been particularly drawn by superhero media, I wasn't really sure what to expect when I first started watching My Adventures with Superman about a week ago. I had seen a few posts here on Tumblr that had piqued my interest, but all I really knew about it was that it was well-loved and had an art style that I knew I liked.

I absolutely did not expect to fall head over heels for the show entirely, or to be moved to tears multiple times by the wildly sweet, revolutionary relationship between this adaptation's Clark Kent and Lois Lane.

I say "revolutionary" because this romance touches on a lot of things that I feel are lacking in most modern portrayals of romance, and it handles them masterfully.

Most of what I reference/talk about in this post will focus on the first four episodes of season one (with a particular focus on the fourth episode, Let's Go to Ivo Tower, You Say) , because they are my favorite episodes and I think I can communicate what I want to by pulling mainly from those episodes. But I will be pulling bits and pieces from the whole series so consider yourself spoiler-warned.

The main point is this: I absolutely adore the way that physical attraction and emotional attraction are balanced between Clark and Lois.

The fact that this is possible comes from how well-crafted the dynamic is between the two of them; Lois' raw passion and energy inspires confidence and a mutual passion in Clark, and Clark's gentleness and kind heart inspire a tenderness in Lois that she was never given an outlet to show or receive. From this dynamic, a wealth of physical and emotional intimacy is naturally born. But never in the series do the two aspects of attraction feel out of balance; rather, they play off each other effortlessly. When one is brought into focus, the other quickly follows.

From the first episode and onward, it's obvious that Clark and Lois are awed by each other's physical appearance. Lois outright describes Clark as "beautiful" (which, if you saw one of my earlier posts from not too long ago, is something that makes me so incredibly happy to see in mainstream media).

To be fair, she doesn't say that to his face and says it in a moment of extreme frustration. But I still count it.

Anyways.

Upon seeing Lois for the first time, Clark is practically frozen in wonder for a good few seconds.

Lois, too, experiences this initial moment of attraction and almost immediately makes contact, with a playful punch to Clark's chest as he holds the door open for her.

This is a detail I really love, because first of all wow, I aspire to have her level of confidence. But also, it becomes clear early on in the series that Lois expresses herself very physically. She has no qualms regarding physical affection. Clark, on the other hand, is much more reserved and, at first, generally only initiates contact after an invitation from Lois, or after enough time has passed in their friendship for him to know that Lois is very physical and wouldn't have a problem with it.

There is also an immediate emphasis on Clark's concern for Lois' physical well-being. Take a sip of water every time Clark asks Lois if she's okay just in the first episode alone and you will be well hydrated.

Later on in this first episode, while trying to infiltrate a warehouse, Lois confidently asks Clark to boost her up to a window so she can get inside the building. Clark is immediately flustered, showing how much he feels out of his depth even with physical contact that, on the surface, would have no romantic connotations. (But to be fair, Lois is asking him to put his hands around her waist and lift her up when they literally just met like maybe six hours ago. I would be flustered too.)

And when Lois loses her balance and Clark effortlessly catches her, his first response (after blushing, of course) is to ask her:

Even in moments where the romantic tension is thick enough to cut with a knife and Clark clearly knows it, his first priority is to make sure she's okay.

And thus begins one of the strongest underlying themes throughout the whole building-up of their relationship, which is trust.

I'm gonna jump ahead now to the scene that inspired this whole post: the stairwell scene in episode four.

A basic rundown: Clark, Lois, and Jimmy are given an assignment to attend a tech unveiling for the city's top investors at Amazotech headquarters. Lois, naturally, ignores the parameters of the assignment and tries to use it as an opportunity to expose corruption in the city and get her stop-the-presses story. Clark very reluctantly follows her lead, believing that she will get herself into trouble . . . until Dr. Ivo, head of Amazotech, makes a few rude comments about Lois' appearance (Lois doesn't hear these, only Clark). This deeply irritates Clark and prompts him into revealing how much he knows about Dr. Ivo's corrupt business dealings, in an attempt to intimidate the truth out of Dr. Ivo, who responds by having Clark thrown out of the building and into a pile of garbage in an adjacent alleyway. Lois comes to find Clark (who is unhurt) and teases him about whether or not she should let him back in the building, since he didn't follow the assignment. Clark jokes that he doesn't even meet the dress code anymore, revealing that his suit jacket was torn as he was tossed out of the building.

Lois then reveals that she came prepared for this, and tells Clark to "take it off."

Clark immediately becomes flustered again and begins stammering as Lois pulls him back into the building by his jacket, continuing to tease him.

It's in these moments, as you can see, that the lighting of the scene changes. As soon as Lois says "take it off", everything is bathed in a rosy light. This happens frequently between these two; often, when we the audience are seeing one of these characters through the perspective of the other, the lighting takes on a very dreamy quality. This will come up again momentarily.

As Lois and Clark ascend the stairs, Lois removes her jacket and pulls a sewing kit from her pocket, admitting that she carries one on her because she herself has torn a lot of her clothing on her escapades.

The two then sit down on the stairs, and Clark removes his jacket. The lighting changes again, and we see Clark from Lois' eyes. It's clear by the dreamy lighting and the way that Lois blushes and involuntarily chokes out a "Wow . . ." that she is once again awed by him and deeply attracted to him on a physical level.

And this scene represents so much about their growing dynamic. It honestly has me floored.

But before I explain fully, I have to go on a tangent about my beloved Clark.

Throughout the beginning of the series, I believe Clark shows several signs that indicate that he is insecure about his physical appearance. Which you wouldn't expect, right? I mean, look at him. He's objectively a dreamboat. He was designed to be that way.

But at this stage of knowing so little about where he really came from or who he is, I think Clark struggles with not having a way to explain his physique. He admits that he wasn't an athlete in school; he was in the chess club. He doesn't work out as an adult. And yet he has the muscles of a bodybuilder. But, like so many other aspects of himself, he doesn't have a way to explain it. This causes a disconnect in how he sees himself physically; he likely feels as though he doesn't deserve his naturally impressive physique. And you could argue that he even does his best to hide it. As a civilian, he generally wears bulky, layered clothing like sweatshirts and sweaters. He slouches and carries himself in a very inward direction; his shoulders are often forward and his arms close to his sides, as if he is habitually attempting to make himself smaller.

This is one thing that brought me to tears when I saw it. The idea that a person can feel insecure about having physical attributes that would normally be seen as positive (and that they can't explain and/or feel that they don't deserve) is not very well-explored in media, but it is experienced by quite a few people, myself being one of them. But often in the real world when someone attempts to express this kind of insecurity, they are shut down and mocked and told to "be grateful" for what they have because others would envy them. Which I can say from personal experience is unbelievably damaging to a person's self image. So seeing this possibly be represented in Clark Kent himself was incredibly moving to me.

But back to the scene itself.

In the most recent gif above, this is the most vulnerable Lois has seen Clark thus far. What I think is so beautiful is the way that she invites him into this vulnerability by making herself vulnerable first.

Rewind a bit. Outside the building, Lois tells Clark to take his jacket off. Not a big deal, right? It's not like he's not wearing an undershirt. But Clark becomes flustered, not outright expressing that he's uncomfortable with this, but certainly indicating that he's not exactly at ease with it either.

Next we see them climbing up the stairs, and as they do so, Lois removes her own jacket and reveals her bare back to Clark in the process.

I believe this was incredibly intentional. This scene would have carried a very different tone if Lois' outfit was revealing in any other way. But the fact that her back is exposed symbolizes that she trusts him, in a physical and emotional sense. It's like when my cat Penny rolls on her back and exposes her fluffy tummy. Lois revealing this part of herself was her saying "I trust you, I feel safe with you, and I'll be vulnerable with you if you'll be vulnerable with me."

And only after that does Clark remove his jacket.

Because there is the factor of attraction at play, there is a lot of blushing and stammering going on in the beginning of this scene. These are two incredibly attractive people who are incredibly attracted to each other, after all. But immediately after the initial romantic tension, there is emotional vulnerability as well. Lois confides in Clark about her relationship with her dad, and the crippling self-doubt that she has kept very close to her chest. Clark jumps to reassure her in earnest, telling her that she has "changed his life for the better, in every possible way."

And that is what I meant at the beginning of the post when I mentioned balance.

Every moment of physical attraction in this series is followed by or harmonized with a moment of emotional vulnerability. Clark and Lois both invite each other deeper into each aspect of connection, and thus their relationship builds in an incredibly natural and beautiful way.

At this point, I think this post is about five miles long as the crow scrolls and I should probably stop now before all my thoughts run away with me. I could go on forever about the impact that this series and these characters have had on me, though. I will forever be grateful to the creators for giving us such an incredible series, and such a beautiful romance.

[valtsv]

fuck it. silt verses oc masterpost. eat up.

- anastasis crane - god-hunter, atheist, and wandering vagabond. both predator and prey in a single being. does dirty work so others don't have to. it's ya boy annie.

- house crane - old money cult family who rebranded after their god was outlawed following the imago war. now they construct and review binding contracts for both peninsulan and linger straits bodies of commerce and government - with an emphasis on the "binding" aspect. rumour has it they've been granted special dispensation to keep practicing their illegal and rather nasty banned rituals, so long as they're discrete and keep providing their services to the people who matter. they don't mix much with anyone outside of the family except on business, and are rarely seen in public. it's generally agreed that the reports of many of them being not altogether human are just scary stories for children, but a few people have claimed (under the influence of a few rounds at the local bar) to have known someone who worked for someone high up in business or politics who can confirm the truth of such claims with their own eyes. of course, these people have generally since disappeared, which makes corroboration difficult. their characteristic spindly, spidery features are probably just a product of ancestral aristocratic inbreeding. probably.

- fen kahron - ferryman presiding over a treacherous stretch of marshland. you will not be able to cross without her help, but that hasn't stopped people from trying, either out of principle or to avoid the toll, which takes the form of something of personal value to the individual. fortunately, her god's mouth is always open. she's not terribly fond of the parish of tide and flesh - her relationship to her god is personal, and they keep trying to convert her. which is silly, really, because she's been dead for a very long time.

- the carrion-herald / the bleach-bone king - an angel/saint(?) of death and decay that feeds on the dead and dying in extreme, remote environments where rescue or retrieval is unlikely. his coming is heralded by his halo of carrion birds seen circling overhead. those who worship him see this as a sign of luck - either you've been chosen to meet him, or to bear witness to his procession.

- harmony joy - a love-saint who leads a dancing plague. once human, she called a god into her in her aching loneliness after being ostracised utterly from her community and forced to bear witness to their collective happiness together, which blessed her to dance forever so beautifully that she would never want for a partner again. she might seem sentient at first, but spend long enough in her company (not recommended) and you'll soon realise that her apparent personality is simply a fragmented collection of lovingly preserved scraps of her past lovers, who, once in her thrall, will dance until their bodies give out, even if their minds should break and skin and sinew should snap and be torn away in strips. sightings of her procession have dwindled in recent years, likely due to modern technological advancements allowing for more effective deterrence and warning systems, as well as the improvements in long-range weaponry, but she still features prominently in urban legends and cautionary tales about staying out late alone.

[happy74827]

Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

[furiousgoldfish]

Growing up with abusive parents, there was a lot of religious grooming going on, a big emphasis was put on being 'a good person', and I was told often about how god is watching me and judging my every move, and of course, he always agreed with my parents judgment, conveniently for them.

Being a good person meant a lot to me, so I did try very hard to be kind and do good deeds, only when I did this, my parents were very much not satisfied. Instead they would find reasons why my good deeds were, not actually good. I'd get told that I only did things to look good in front of others, or to get the attention, or to get something out of it. This hit me hard at the time, my character was already attacked on all fronts, and now I had to second-guess my every move to judge weather me doing good deeds was only attention-seeking, manipulative and selfish behaviour.

This in turn taught me that I should never expect anything back, never seek any attention, never consider how it makes me look or feel to do good things for others, and, this was still not enough. I was still being told that I did everything so lousy, that it would have been better if I hadn't done anything at all. My thoughtfulness, my attempts at being helpful, obedient, grateful, convenient, generous, supportive and kind, it was always degraded or explained away as 'the least I could do'.

I struggled with analyzing my own actions and the motivations I had for them, and worried that I might be a horrible, self-serving, selfish person. At this point I was already doing everything anyone asked of me, while being polite and mild-mannered about it, and I didn't complain about being overworked, neglected, exhausted, lonely, and tormented by the abuse. I was so focused on scrutinizing my own actions, whether I could have done anything better, whether I was doing it all for wrong reasons, that I couldn't see a simple truth behind this charade: people who were constantly telling me off for not being a good enough person, have never even tried to be good themselves.

My parents, so quick to berate me for not having the right 'motivations' for my kindness, were not bothering to be kind at all. The amount of good deeds they've done for nothing in return is zero. They always had ulterior motives, they only did things to look good, they held others in obligation for every gift, every gesture, every word given to them. They upheld every little 'good deed' they did as a proof that they can do no wrong, used it to get leverage, to get trust and illusion of goodness. They only did good things when convenient and easy, with large payoff. They did things, good and bad, for attention only. I wasn't supposed to notice that. I was supposed to put my head down and feel horrible for everything I ever did.

I've had time to clear my head, and think about how much I should scrutinize my own actions. Even if my standards are still impossibly high for myself, I seem to be very forgiving towards others, finding them good people even if all they do is live for themselves, and find happiness and pleasure for their own benefit. Just not doing harm to others, is good! People are not selfish for wanting to be happy, and focusing on their own happiness, it means there are more happy people on the planet, which is what we want.

The way I was taught to go about being a good person was all about sacrifice. Give away your everything for nothing in return, and then, maybe, if everyone feels you've given them enough, if nobody is left behind, if nobody is left dissatisfied, maybe you'll be considered good. Which is impossible, because you cannot please everyone, you cannot rip yoursef into enough pieces to fix everyone's problems. It's a way to get torn and used and exploited and then have everyone abandon you completely after they've used all of the pieces to their full extent. It's not something a human being should be put trough. It's a devastating mission with no fulfillment, no happy ending, no possibility of it turning okay.

I've started to consider that tearing myself apart for others is not only wrong, but actively a bad thing to do, because it harms me. Is something really good if it harms a person? I am a person. My deeds should not cause harm to myself. Sacrifice is romanticized in both religion and media, but should people want someone to be sacrificed for their own happiness? Is it okay and normal to have a portion of people suffering and torn apart so another portion would be happy? It's a bad system! We shouldn't live like this. People who want to benefit from other's sacrifice are not good, and should not be even given the chance to benefit from it.

Nobody should be sacrificed. Nobody should be bearing other people's burdens indefinitely. Nobody's life should be degraded to another person's convenience.

And children should not be scrutinized for their good acts. Children don't yet have a developed sense of morality, they often copy what they're seeing others do, and they follow their basic instincts of curiosity, desire, boundary testing, wanting to try things out. Their little experiments will often not turn out great, but it's the only way to learn. Being shamed so badly at this stage, for 'not being good enough' can only paralyze them, ending their learning process, forcing them to stop developing their own thinking. So they accept the grooming instead, they accept what is told to them about good and evil, without having the chance to test it and decide for themselves.

I got told I was being bad and I believed it, without ever being able to see how others are benefiting from my desperate obedience. It destroyed my sense of self. Learning this as an adult is much more complicated, because you first have to undo everything that's been done to you before, every belief placed in your head so you'd give up on your own interests and do as you are told, every fear placed in you if you disobey. And then you have to experiment and test your thoughts, see what happens, which again, feels embarrassing as an adult, to have to learn the basics like that. And also at times, scary, because you still hold the trauma of being punished for testing anything, you might feel like your life is on the line if you allow yourself some mischief. Even when others are doing it constantly, carelessly, and get no punishment whatsoever.

They put us trough all this just so they could benefit from us when we were children.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

48 with Trevor zegras pls ☁️

Drabble Challenge. Drabble Masterlist.

"We've become that clingy couple that you used to complain about"

Neither you or Trevor were very big on PDA in general, especially when you started dating. Both of you did at first did find it hilarious soft launching your relationship and have random girls on social media speculate if you were dating or not. Neither of you ever giving them even a 'breadcrumb' of evidence that you were dating as far as PDA, all they had got was a few likes on Instagram and comments on posts. Even after six months of dating when you 'hard launched' your relationship, you still weren't big on PDA especially if it came to posting online pictures of you together.

Trevor asked you one night why you hated showing PDA even in front of small crowds because in private all you wanted to do was cuddle. All you told him was that "One I don't wanna became one of those clingy couples that you can never do anything without the other one present and two I don't want someone posting a private moment thinking it's cute. And then my entire face is all over Instagram and Twitter it makes me uncomfortable."

He made grabby hands at you at you pulling you into the couch. "Aww baby." He said in a little high pitch voice, almost like a baby voice. "I love you and if that's what you want okay." And then he teased you by leaving nasty wet raspberries all over you cheek until you were able to wiggle out of his embrace.

That only happened 6 months ago, but now everything has shifted. It started small, out with the team you both would hold hands under the table so no one could see. Then it became out with friends in a crowded bar and he would have a protective arm around you. By the summertime, visiting family you would sit in his lap because their wasn't enough seats and Grandma had to sit somewhere. By Labor Day it was game over, after spending an entire summer together Trevor was your shadow. If you moved 3 feet away he deemed it was too much and he didn't give a shit about what any of the boys had to say. He knew that the season was about to start and he needed to soak in all the time he had left with you before he had to go sometimes weeks without you.

But you didn't even care, all your friends and family knew not to post online about you guys, even on what they deemed their 'private accounts' after all the boys Goodreads accounts were found this summer. Honestly you didn't even notice that Trevor and you were so attached to eachother until the first week long roadie of the season. After sleeping in the same bed every single night for the past 6 months after not being able to sleep for 2 days straight because you didn't have Trevor's warm body heat. Whether it was giving into an intrusive thought or sleep deprivation you found yourself booking a ticket to fucking Utah to surprise Trevor. It was worth it when seven hours later he saw you during warms-up. His teammates were thankful too because a clingy sad Trevor without you was even more unbearable than a happy yapping Trevor.

Later on in his hotel room you guys were laying down. Both you finally felt relaxed and able to get a good night's sleep for the first time in days. Turning your head towards Trevor you couldn't help but comment at how malicious smile on his face. "Trev what?"

Turning his head toward your voice he said "I just can't stop thinking about the fact that in only a year of dating. We've become that clingy couple you used to complain about."

Gasping loudly at his confusion, slightly sitting up in the bed now leaning your arm to support your weight. "We have not! Take it back!" you exclaimed as Trevor just laughed and pulled you back down to hold you against him.

"Nope." Making the popping p sound for emphasis.

"We have not!" Lightly jokingly hitting him on his chest, that now shook as he laughed so hard at your reaction.

"Then what are we?" A big smile still on his face that it probably hurt his cheeks.

"I said I didn't wanna became a couple that couldn't still go out with their friends by themselves OR all over social media constantly showing PDA which we aren't." you agrued.

"baby. You flew to fucking Utah because you wanted to be able to sleep in the same bed. And the only reason we aren't all over social media even in our friends posts cuddling and shit is because YOU told people not to. " Quickly stealing a peck from your lips as he turned quickly to turn off the light craving a good night's sleep more than he would care to admit.

"yeah well that's difffernet." you grumble. "plus we can still go out without each other to hangout with friends."

"hmm" Trevor answers half asleep, pulling you tighter into him. "I still think it's funny. Now let's sleep babygirl I'm tired."

[aroaceleovaldez]

random question but i came across a post of yours where you talked about how mark oshiro sort of erased an aspect of nico's ADHD by making a joke about how he only liked mythomagic cards because he's gay and there are hot guys on the cards, and then TSATS also seemed to really downplay the themes of neurodivergence in the series. and it made me wonder if you have any thoughts on how the show has portrayed the demigods' ADHD and dyslexia so far? i've seen some people say that the show also downplayed it a lot, and i'm inclined to agree... which feels really weird considering that rick's own son's neurodivergence was specifically a major inspiration for him writing the series. but if i recall correctly a lot of scenes showcasing that in the first book were taken out of the show.

Oh absolutely, a lot of scenes and general discussion about adhd/dyslexia were removed in the show (and some of the disability-coding in general - i appreciate the change they made with making Chiron disabled based on his mythos rather than just using a wheelchair as a disguise, but i wish they had kept Grover's crutches in a similar manner honestly) - I've made a couple of posts discussing it: here, here, and this reblog is relevant to my opinions about the matter. There's probably some other stuff in my pjo tv crit tag.

I think the main sentiment i have regarding it - which i've seen a couple of other people mention as well - is how much the show ignores or outright removes and downplays Percy's personal struggles with his disabilities to instead emphasize Sally's experiences instead, particularly in manners of her taking out her stress on Percy - which alongside being completely antithetical to Sally's role in the books, is pretty ableist and why I continually compare show!Sally to Autism Speaks Parents. Autism Speaks tends to make an emphasis on the struggles of the parents of autistic children rather than treating autistic individuals like a person experiencing their own struggles. One of the major points of Sally's character (and later Paul) in the books is that she's an incredibly accommodating parent and works hard to make sure Percy is supported when he's struggling with his disabilities, because he's not been able to find that accommodation elsewhere. That's part of why Sally is such a great mom in particular, and is intentionally supposed to directly contrast Annabeth's home life struggles with her parents having difficulty navigating how to provide that same level of accommodation to help support her (and how Annabeth finds that accommodation at CHB instead, because that's the metaphor that CHB is supposed to represent - an appropriately accommodating system they can rely on, and then exploring how that's still a flawed system and looking at how disabled kids/demigods fall through the cracks and how to change the system to better support them).

The show also almost completely ignores Percy's ADHD/dyslexia experiences in general after the first episode. I was honestly really happy with, in the first episode, how clearly Percy's poor experiences in the American education system, particularly relating to his neurodivergence, have informed his reaction to situations such as people trying to tell him he's a demigod in coded language. It was essentially the perfect update to something i've discussed in the past here, about how the original "all demigods have adhd/dyslexia because it's secretly SUPERPOWERS" thing was presented as the basis for the series and why that teaching/parenting style fell out of favor. We see Percy in e1 acknowledge how dismissive of his struggles it is to constantly just be told he's "special" - and we even get explicit acknowledgement of how that description is used aggressively and for ostracization (from Nancy), which is extremely true to the experiences of kids who grew up with that teaching/parenting structure. But then we get to episode 2 and... all the acknowledgement of ADHD/dyslexia/etc is gone. We get at most a one-off acknowledgement from Luke that demigods are all neurodivergent and that's it. Pretty much nothing else for the entire rest of the season, save for flashback scenes that only emphasize Sally's experiences, not acknowledge Percy's. No further acknowledgement of Percy's dyslexia, or Annabeth's, or anything about their ADHD, or even Percy's completely removed PTSD (which we know for sure because of both writer commentary [see: that second post i linked about the LA Times article] and Percy's total lack of reaction to Mr. D). Nothing.

It was extremely disheartening to say the least, having such a strong start and it evaporating completely, and I fully agree with you.

[sunshineandrosesnoraincamemyway]

There are several different areas of how youth ministries work that I have major issues with.

teenagers are taught appallingly little theology. We got three sermons on David and Bathsheba in a year telling us not to have sex, but not a single one on the process of sanctification. (like, seriously is that the only story in the Bible that you can find to teach this lesson with? Last I checked there was an ENTIRE BOOK about not awakening love until its time. I digress). No real theology is taught, everything is overly simplistic with the flimsy excuse of "keeping the messages simple in case someone who has never heard the gospel is in the room." They are supposed to be preparing students for adulthood, but they give the group with the most questions the least amount of answers

There is also little to no Church history being taught. In tenth grade I studied Church history for school (because I was homeschooled and feel called to missions, more on that later) and I would bring up that I was learning about Athanasius, or the Counter Reformation, or Dietrich Bonhoffer, and my friends had never heard of these people and events that helped shape what we believe and how it plays out in our lives. I'm not saying I expect them to be an expert, but to have no familiarity with those who came before us is mind boggling to me.

There are no resources or help for students feeling a call to ministry. I have felt a call to international missions since I was eight years old, and I go to a church with a huge emphasis on missions. So you'd think they'd be excited and jumping on the opportunity to teach me what that looks like, help me figure out ways to start preparing so that I'm making the most of my time, right? Wrong. I was told that it was cool that I felt this call but I was acting like i was better than everyone else and I needed to focus on the lessons they had and I had time to figure out my calling when I was older. I'm thankful that my parents have ways encouraged me in this calling, and I was able to create my own plan to prepare me as best I could for a life of missions. (i won't go into what exactly the plan was here, but I believe it was a wise one and I'd be happy to answer any questions about it.) I look at my peers and my friends who are still in youth, and there are so many who are feeling a call to ministry, and they are coming to me for advice. We are the all or nothing generation, there is no more sitting on the fence. Imagine what it would look like if we took our youth seriously when they say they feel called to ministry! I've graduated now, and if I had taken the advice of those who told me I was too young to know of I was called to missions to not I would have missed out on over ten years of studying the Bible, how to communicate the gospel to people of other religions, praying for people groups where no one knows Jesus. TEN YEARS! How is this acceptable?

Anyways, TLDR the only reason I know what i do of the Bible is because I took it upon myself to study, and the sad truth is most students don't even know enough to make that decision. We have the reverse problem of 1 Corinthians 3:1-2, where students are longing for solid food, but we are only fed milk.

[lilyginnyblackv2]

I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk about this Utada Hikaru quote in regards to both Hikari and Passion before:

In an interview, Utada said, "It's like... as if 'Hikari' was the dawn, and 'Passion' has a concluding or 'dusk' feeling to it. The lyrics of 'Passion' show how phases of the past, present and future of the character in my song relate to each other."

This came from the KH Fandom Wiki, which I'll link below in the comments. I've seen the Nomura quote mentioned all the time about how Passion is about Sora and Riku's reunion, but I think a part of Nomura's quote that often gets overlooked is when he states:

I wrote stuff like "An image of a reunion, a happy moment in a way" and "Like a Hikari 2" in there.

Italicized part by me for emphasis and the main thing I want to talk about here. The quote from Nomura can be found over at Kingdom Hearts Insider (which I will also link below in the comments).

We have Utada mentioning how Hikari is like the dawn and Passion is like the concluding dusk, thus connecting the two songs to each other in a sequel like way, just like Nomura mentions in his interview when he states that Passion is "Like a Hikari 2." So, in my mind, since Nomura states that "Passion is about Sora and Riku's reunion" and Utada uses the phrasing of dawn, as well as how the song highlights how past, present, and future relate to each other for the character in the song...I think it's pretty safe to say that Hikari is about Sora and Riku as well.

That seems to be what both Nomura and Utada are implying with their answers here. Now, I know that some people really like to say that Simple & Clean and Sanctuary are their own songs, which they are. The lyrics are different. But the thematic elements are still the same and there are still similar through lines (like the backward lyrics being the same in both Passion and Sanctuary for instance).

The lyrics of Hikari really fit Riku's views on Sora and the bond they have/had - the desire for it to remain unchanged. The person they are singing about being their light (Sora being Riku's light, something we know Riku views Sora as via things like the DDD Novel Side Riku). Simple & Clean's lyrics definitely fit Sora as a character and his voice more.

With Passion and Sanctuary it almost seems like this is reversed though. The English version, Sanctuary, has more lyrics that fit Riku and his perspective on Sora and their reunion. Meanwhile, Passion's lyrics fit Sora a lot more. The line: "I heard my old crush is having a baby in the wintertime" is quite interesting in various ways. The whole last set of lyrics in Passion aren't really directly related to KH, but more to general ideas of things that denote changes and passages of time (people having children, getting New Years cards, etc.).

It's also so interesting that Hikari is mentioned as being the Dawn (the time of day associated with Riku) and Passion the Dusk (the time of day that is often associated with Kairi). In KH2 is when we start to see a shift in Sora's feelings and interactions with Kairi (distance, drifting apart, change) and a reconnection happen with Sora and Riku (reunion, airing out feelings, better communication, reinforcing their friendship and bonds to each other, etc.).

We get games that focus more on Sora and Riku's bonds (Re-coded, BBB when they are little kids, and DDD) and Kairi is sadly neglected by the narrative and both Sora and Riku in a way. Something that we see her taking note of in KH3, more obviously through the novelization.

I don't know. To me these quotes just make me think it is very obvious that both Hikari/Simple & Clean and Passion/Sanctuary are all songs about Sora and Riku and their bond with each other. Of course, since KH3 is meant to be a conclusion to the Dark Seeker Saga, of which KH1 and KH2 are both a part of, it would make sense that Oath and Don't Think Twice are about them too.

Sadly, we don't really have anything remotely official to really solidify that interpretation though, not that official recognition of things like this are necessary - they aren't - but they do add more validity to interpretations and theories. Maybe some day we'll get a comment about Oath / Don't Think Twice from either Nomura or Utada. But until then...I'm still going to think that those songs are about Sora and Riku.

Anyway, these are just rambling thoughts on a topic I've talked about before (the KH themes like Oath / Don't Think Twice and their connection to Sora and Riku). But I was thinking about this all again with the new Hikari re-recording by Utada that came out recently. It's a beautiful re-recording that I definitely suggest every KH fan check out. I'll link that in the comments as well, lol. Also, feel free to add this via reblogs or in the comments! I might not respond right away, but I'll read everything that gets commented, added, etc.

[party-hearses]

pairing: dieter bravo x f!oc x f!reader (no use of y/n)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 6.6k

summary: your girlfriend and her close friend want to give you everything, and more.

warnings/tags: explicit smut, threesome, porn with some plot, breeding kink (heavy emphasis), pet names (baby a million times), alcohol consumption, dom/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, fingering, oral (f receiving), pegging, unprotected piv, squirting, creampie, painful sex (but it’s very consensual), overstimulation, very brief mention of drug use, cliff beasts 6 jumpscare. please let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

a/n: this fic belongs to @nostalxgic and @bastardmandennis; i cannot thank y’all enough for beta reading, letting me bounce ideas around, and allowing me to be depraved about this in general.

“It won’t be weird. I promise.”

You pause, toothbrush in your mouth, turning to face your girlfriend. “Em, I don’t know how it won’t be weird. The whole circumstance is weird.”

She tuts, sliding her hands across your hips from behind, fingers coming to rest at the soft place just below your stomach. “But worth it?”

“Worth it,” you confirm around the flimsy plastic between your lips. She pulls her hands away as you lean to spit toothpaste in the sink, mewling in protest.

“Sorry, baby,” she responds off-handedly, wrist curved, eyes on her watch. “I’m already running late — but I’ll see you tonight?” Her gaze meets yours again, reassuring and tender. “Everything will be fine. He already knows, he already agreed, this is just…a formality.” You watch in the mirror as she waves her hand around the word in the air, the confidence of the action settling the nervous needling in your belly.

You wipe the remnants of toothpaste off your mouth with the back of your hand before turning and stretching upwards to press a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. She’s out of the bathroom and down the hallway before you can make it more, the anxious excitement of it all making your fingertips buzz with desire.

“Worth it, baby! Just remember that!” she calls over her shoulder, the front door clicking closed behind her.

Your Lyft runs late, which you’re sure is a bad omen. Emily chalks it up to shitty traffic in a metropolitan city. You settle on both being right, neither wanting to spoil the night before it even starts. Not with so much on the line.

The restaurant you arrive at is casually upscale, all dark wood, gold flourishes, and the richest emerald green upholstery you’ve ever seen. The hostess leads you away from the bustling room in the front, to a more secluded area in the back, her bored smile not reaching her eyes.

Emily is tucked away in the large, nearly-empty room, alone in one of the grand booths. Relief rolls through your limbs, loosening them — you may be late, but you still manage to arrive before him.

Him — the mysterious entity that holds your future in the very palm of his hands. Emily hasn’t divulged much about him, meeting your questions with shrugs and ‘you’ll just have to meet him’s.

It doesn’t instill much confidence in you, which is why you’ve been so keyed up about the dinner date she’s set.

She anticipates your anxiety, handing you a glass of chilled white wine as soon as you crawl in the booth next to her. Just being near her reins you in, her pressed white button-up molded to the contours of her body, black blazer puddled in a heap next to her.

“You’re looking very corporate-sexy tonight,” you observe, lips pressed together in a slight frown as you pick up the glass. “How was work?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, she lets out a long, slow breath. “Let’s just say I’m happy to be here with you now.”

A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, the reminder of exactly why you’re here settling low in your belly.

“Hey,” you whisper, tipping your glass in her direction, “cheers to having a baby put in me.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins, throwing back what’s left of her own wine.

You’re on your second glass of wine when a distinct buzz erupts from the front of the restaurant, as if all the energy in the building had burst at once. The same hostess, previously dead-faced and slouched over, pushes her shoulders back and wrings her hands nervously on the surface of the podium.

Knitting your brows together, you crane your neck to see exactly what — or whom — the commotion is all about. You can’t see much, just a pair of hands making animated gestures, multitude of rings catching the light of the foyer.

When the owner of the hands finally moves into view, it’s impossible to miss how devastatingly handsome he is — unkempt, overgrown brown curls framing the golden glow of his skin, a strong, masculine nose and hard lined jaw covered in dark scruff, broad frame under a wrinkled black t-shirt with Siouxsie and the Banshees scribbled across it. Elegantly disheveled, like he’d rolled out of bed hungover to show up at a red carpet event.

And a pair of sunglasses, no doubt designer, obscuring his eyes.

He dips his chin slightly to peer over them, gaze sweeping past the hostess to lock directly onto you. It startles you, the assuredness with which he does it. As though he’s looking for you. A dazzling grin splits across his features, his cheeks rounding with the size of it, never breaking eye contact.

But you do.

“Oh shit, Em! It’s Dieter Bravo!” you hiss, snapping your head back to stare wide-eyed at Emily. She’s watching him, too, but with a different expression — a knowing expression. Her eyes flit to yours for the briefest of moments, her plump lips curled into a shy smile.

“So it is.”

It takes you all but two seconds to put the pieces together, your mouth popping open in surprise when you do. Anxiety builds in your chest, the thought of letting a movie star impregnate you never having crossed your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was Dieter fucking Bravo? Why didn’t you tell me that you know Dieter fucking Bravo?” You keep your voice low, but sharp. Pulse quickening, panic spreading through your limbs once again, you grab at Emily’s arm.

“Didn’t want you to freak out more than you already were,” she replies, turning to you to brush a tangle of hair behind your ear. It’s gentle, more gentle than you deserve at this moment, allowing the boiling of your blood to settle to a low simmer. You chew your lip, dropping your hand into Emily’s lap to intertwine her fingers with yours.

Your eyes track between the two of them, Dieter’s approach to the table slowed by the hostess and a handful of patrons wanting autographs, pictures, handshakes — some moment of intimacy with a celebrity, some story to tell their friends.

But he keeps his eyes fixed on you, a tender smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth all the while.

When he does eventually reach the table, onlookers in his wake, Emily stands to greet him, but he extends his hands to you, picking your own up from its place on the table.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His voice is strawberry ice cream with sticky cherries on top. You’ve only ever heard it on movie screens, and hearing it spoken directly to you sends waves of electricity up the column of your spine.

Your hand still in his, he brings it to his mouth, pressing the most delicate of kisses to your knuckles.

“Fucking corny,” Emily mumbles, shoving into his shoulder with the flat of her palm.

He laughs smoothly at the impact, finally removing his sunglasses to expose the warm amber of his irises.

“I’m Dieter.”

“I kn-…I…I’m…” you stutter, caught off guard not only by how much more handsome he is up close, but by how charming he is right off the bat.

“I know exactly who you are, sweet girl.” He kisses your knuckles once more for good measure, placing your hand gently back on the table before turning his attention to Emily.

“Em,” he grins, adoration seeping through the way he says her name. She matches his expression before they air kiss each other’s cheeks, his hands on her shoulders, and you’re all at once taken aback at how intimate it feels.

That same intimacy envelopes you as he slides into the booth, immediately beckoning the server over with two fingers in the air.

“What are you drinking?” His gaze is burning through you again, voice low. Like you’re the only two people in the room. You’re marginally aware of Emily’s fingers stroking the flesh of your inner thigh, too entranced with Dieter to pay attention.

You’ve always been aware of him as an enigma — celebrity tabloids capitalizing on his very public drug problems, interviews labeling him an eccentric artist. Not to mention the infamy of the Cliff Beasts 6-turned-scathing-documentary and his subsequent marriage.

The question falls out of your mouth before you can stop it, some strange combination of star-struck and anxious-enough-to-vomit knocking the sense out of you.

“Aren’t you married?”

He runs a palm over his mouth, failing to conceal the playful smile therein.

The server materializes right then, but Dieter keeps his eyes on you, even as he orders.

“Champagne. A bottle. We’re celebrating.”

Wicked curiosity flickers in the pool of his gaze, waiting to see your next move. The way a predator watches prey.

The only move you make is to look up at him through your lashes expectantly, hands folded in front of you. It’s Emily who quietly thanks the server, sending him on his way. Her own body language is relaxed, back sloped against the tufted material of the booth, thumb tracing aimless circles beneath the hem of your dress.

“So, I get to put a baby in you, hmm?”

Heat blooms across your chest, rising into your cheeks. Emily is as taciturn as you’ve ever seen her, unfazed by how direct the statement is, her fingers crawling higher to ghost the lace of your panties.

You squirm under both her touch and his stare, nodding lamely at the question, heart beating rapidly in your ears.

“I should be so lucky,” he breathes, drawing closer to you, skimming his knuckles over your cheekbone.

It’s sultry, the way he touches you. The way Emily lets him touch you. You’re all doe-eyes and plush parted lips when she tips forward to whisper don’t be nervous, baby, into the shell of your ear.

And you’re not — not anymore.

The champagne comes, nestled cozily into a bucket of ice, at the same time Emily’s work phone buzzes, hard and jarring against the surface of the table.

“Hafta get this,” she grumbles, eyes falling to the screen, voice edged with irritation. Dieter acknowledges her with a tip of his head as she excuses herself from the table, already barking orders at the person on the other end of the line.

The server pops the cork, pouring the bubbly liquid into three glasses, and you feel the vibration of it in your bones.

In any other circumstance, you’d be self-consciously fidgeting with your dress, or reaching for the champagne too quickly, or avoiding eye contact completely. But it feels different with Dieter, natural. Like you’d been here a million times before — like he’d touched you a million times before.

“So,” he prompts, fingers brushing yours as he hands you one of the glasses, “Emily tells me you’re an artist?”

You sip the drink, the bubbles tickling your belly as they settle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He gives a sly half-smile, eyes sparking with humor as he leans back to tip his own drink into his mouth. He extends an arm over the back of the booth, and you notice for the first time the solid black triangle tattooed there. He doesn’t say anything when you reach out to glide your fingers over it, just notches his head to watch it happen.

“I’m not married.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, glancing back in his direction.

He shakes his head slowly, studying you. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”

You say nothing, just sip your drink again coyly without breaking eye contact. It keys him up, you can tell, by the way he downs the rest of the champagne in his glass.

“Figure I deserve to know, if we’re gonna be…involved, in whatever capacity.”

His eyes flash then, pupils nearly swallowing the color around them. Unbeckoned, the server returns to fill your glasses, but Dieter doesn’t even look his way.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he breathes, leaning in to diminish the space between your bodies.

You wave your hand in the air in front of you, an invitation. He knows what you’re asking — what everyone asks. He sucks in a deep breath.

“Covid really fucked me up, if I’m being totally honest. Not that I didn’t have issues before…but quarantine really…exacerbated them. And lucky for me, it’s all on tape.” He grins.

Bringing your glass back up to your lips, you consider this. It’s endearing, the way he’s at ease with himself. How he can make a joke of it, but still feel entirely authentic.

“Isn’t it kind of weird, us asking you to do this?” It’s a genuine question, playful pretense dropped.

He shrugs, sipping his champagne again. “I’m kind of a weird guy.”

You giggle, mind made up. Adrenaline surges through you, and you’re almost surprised when you recognize the depth of your desire with it.

Emily makes her way back to the table, shaking her head and typing out of a message on her phone. She stops next to you, finally looking up, eyes darting between you and Dieter.

“I want Dieter to come home with us tonight.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that he wants it, too. That he’s wanted it since the moment he sat down. You drop your hand to his thigh, squeezing suggestively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Emily grins in response.

Dieter familiarizes himself with the living room as Emily opens another bottle of champagne in the kitchen. The quick popfizz of the cork excites you, makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. You’re so aware of your body in this moment — the curves and swells, the scorching heat rolling through your veins. The arousal you’ve felt all night is on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill over.

He’s looking at your framed photos on the mantle, hands nonchalantly buried in his pockets. He looks so competent, you think, standing on the precipice of this. It’s endearing. It’s sexy.

“Dieter.” His name leaves your lips as a purr, low and sultry. There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he turns to face you, as his eyes rove over your flushed form, as he closes the distance between the two of you.

The atmosphere in the room is thick, a heady electricity buzzing in your ears as he drops next to you on the couch, solid thigh pressing into yours. It doesn’t take more than a moment for him to take your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, angling your face to him. His lips ghost yours, a barely-there kiss that makes you pout and chase his touch.

He laughs, a sweet, gentle laugh that makes your blood spike, and you press your mouth to his hard enough to bruise. He reciprocates by running his hand down your body to grasp your thigh, dragging you over top of him. He nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him devour you, kissing you like he’s waited too long to do so.

There are fingers at your neck, sliding up into your hair to fist at the root and tip your head backwards. You mewl, lips abruptly torn from Dieter’s, but Emily’s quickly replaces them, licking into you attentively while Dieter laves kisses across your collarbones.

You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and you grind down onto him, searching for friction — for relief. He catches on quickly, canting his hips up into you, wordlessly encouraging you to take, take, take.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, baby,” he groans when it’s too much, cradling your ass with his hands tight enough to him that he can stand, to carry you into the bedroom.

It’s hard to keep up with who belongs to which touch — Dieter’s calloused fingers grip your thighs from beneath, wrenching them apart, your dripping sex on display. He’s on his knees, wedged between your splayed legs, while Emily’s deft maneuvering of the hard peaks of your nipples is familiar, her tongue against the column of your neck keeping you grounded, present.

She’s sat back on her haunches, muscular thighs making a home against your hips, allowing you to slope back against her body. Her head is dipped to the hollow of your neck, but you know her eyes are on Dieter — on the way he kisses the soft space just below the round fullness of your tits, the way he nips at the tender flesh of your ribs and belly.

You can’t help but reach out and card your hands through the length of his hair as he kisses further down your body, pulling back just slightly when he gets to your glistening cunt. You feel Emily grin against your skin, still watching.

“She wet, D?”

“Soaking,” he mumbles, before licking a broad stripe through your folds, eyes hazy. His arms hook beneath you, fingers curling so his rings press indents into the softest parts of you. He holds you to his mouth, the thick chain around his neck and coarse mustache scratching against your silk skin.

It’s overwhelming.

Dieter circles your clit with his tongue expertly, drawing it down every few strokes to taste the salt of your slick. Your head falls back against Emily’s shoulder, quiet moans punctuating the sound of his mouth against you.

His tongue snakes into you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp and grind down against the lower half of his face. He hums in approval, arm stretching across your body to pin you down, to hold you still. You tug on a handful of messy curls, fingertips catching deliciously against his scalp.

His hums take the languid shape of groans, and you feel him rocking his hips down into the mattress, searching for some sense of relief with the friction.

“Use your fingers, D,” Emily growls, in a voice you’ve never heard before. A different kind of thrill winds up your limbs, digging its tendrils into you as her mouth moves down to meet her fingers, drawing your nipple taut between her teeth.

At her command, he unwraps his hand from your thigh to nudge a thick finger against your opening, still lapping at your wetness with his broad tongue. You’re nodding and mewling and clenching — please D, please — so when he grants you an extra finger, stars burst behind your eyes. He presses them all the way in, crooking at an angle that makes your hips cant upwards desperately.

“So tight,” he mutters, dragging the rough tips against your velvet walls again, finding that place deep within you that makes everything feel fizzy and hot.

“Good boy,” Emily purrs around your pebbled nipple, and Dieter moans against you, eyes fluttering shut.

“Say it again, Em.” His words are mangled, lips suctioning to your clit, gently toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Emily giggles darkly, a taunt if you’ve ever heard one.

“Not until you make baby cum all over your fingers.”

Dieter’s eyes flash open, locking onto yours from his place between your legs. The warm amber of them is alight with lust, eclipsed by the blown-out black of his pupils.

The urgent need rolling off his skin turns you inside out, makes the muscles in your abdomen pull taught. You feel as wrecked as he looks, the soft edges of an orgasm swirling into focus in your core.

“Gonna cum,” you manage, the words edged out by your quickening breath.

“Cum for D, baby,” Emily implores. “Cum for us.”

Dieter can feel how close you are, too, given the way he pumps his fingers into you with a new ferver, one final suck of his mouth tipping you over into oblivion.

Your cunt clenches around his massive digits, head lolling into the crook of Emily’s neck as the waves of pleasure overwhelm you. She skates her fingers up the delicate line of your neck to grasp your jaw, wrenching it up to press your lips to hers, swallowing every moan that you emit.

Dieter fucks you through it, flattening his hand against your abdomen to prolong his ability to gather the slick that pours out of you on his tongue.

“Good boy, Dieter,” Emily repeats the praise between kisses, “very, very good boy.”

He draws his fingers out of you, growling as he raises his body and sucks them into his mouth. You watch, Emily’s tongue massaging hot against yours, as he savors the taste of you on his skin. Your slick shines wet on his cheeks, glitters in his facial hair.

You rove your gaze over the entirety of his hulking form, hard muscles and soft belly, kneeling at your altar. Ready and willing to give you the one thing you so badly want, without hesitation.

Emily peppers kisses down your cheek and jaw, allowing you to turn your full attention to Dieter. The lingering aftershocks of your orgasm intensify as he drops his hand to the base of his cock, the head flushed dark and dripping pre-cum when he squeezes.

He looks like heaven.

There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he bears his weight back down on his arms, crawling up the bed to hover over your pliant body. He ghosts his knuckles across your womb, dipping his head to press kisses down the other side of you.

“Can’t wait to see you round with our baby, baby.” Emily murmurs, her gaze flitting up to Dieter’s hand on the place below your stomach, the reality of it settling into your bones.

It’s all consuming, the sudden need to have Dieter buried to the hilt inside of you — to give you a baby. You mewl, a pathetic, broken sound, grasping his wrist to drag his hand back down to your aching sex.

“Mmm, needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Emily hums in agreement, hands grasping at your hips from behind.

Dieter cups your mound in his large hand, raising his head to meet Emily’s eyes.

“Can I fuck her, Em?”

She tips her head to the side, pressing a final kiss to the sensitive skin of your throat.

“Hmm, I don’t know, D,” she teases, nosing the soft cut of your jaw. “What do you think, baby? Has he earned it?”

You nod enthusiastically, needing, needing, needing, elevating your hips to rock your core in Dieter’s hand.

“Okay, baby.” She turns her gaze to Dieter again, reaching out to trace his plush bottom lip with her thumb. His eyes are glassy, chest rising and falling raggedly. “Can’t cum til I say, right, D?”

“Yes, Em.”

She pushes her thumb into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it obediently. She bites down on her bottom lip, and you can feel her pulse pick up from where you lie.

“Sit up, baby,” she suddenly directs, easing you forward. Dieter follows, backing up onto his knees, wrapping his arms around your form to keep you pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and smoke and you, and it’s intoxicating.

Before you can fully process what you’re doing, you’re wrapping your fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, dragging his face down so you can taste yourself on his lips. He reciprocates immediately, licking into you with such intensity that you both nearly stumble over.

You wrap your other arm around his neck, his own tightening in their embrace around you. It’s secure — so secure that you don’t feel Emily slip out from her place behind you.

Dieter’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he guides you down onto your back, nudging your legs apart with his knee. He only pulls away to glance down as he grasps the base of his cock, notching himself against your slick entrance.

“Wait, D,” you whine, pushing feebly against the solid plane of his chest. “Wanna be on top.”

He draws back, eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? It’s…I’m…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“She can take it,” Emily cuts sternly from somewhere behind him. “She’s a good girl. She’ll take whatever you give her.”

He knows better than to question further.

Reaching backwards, he pulls one of your legs around his abdomen, and you follow by doing the same with the other. He slips a massive arm behind your back, and in one swift motion, he’s flipping you both over.

He settles his mussed halo of curls on the pillow, maneuvering your abdomen to situate your cunt just over the length of his cock. You roll your hips forward, catching his tip against your swollen clit. A ribbon of light unfurls down your spine, tightening around it when he groans from low in his throat.

You flatten your palms against his chest, anchoring yourself as you rock against him a second time.

“C’mere sweet girl,” he rasps, planting a thick hand against your hip to poise his leaking head against your entrance.

A tangled pant escapes your lips as you finally sink down onto him, the sumptuous sting of the initial stretch waning into an insistent throb.

“Fuu-uuck, baby,” he gasps, “you’re so tight.”

Neither of you move for a moment, each adjusting to the other, the walls of your pussy clenching around him.

Emily drops behind you, kneeling between Dieter’s legs. Her hands slide down your sides, one grasping at your waist to encourage you forward, to make you move, the other stroking wicked ministrations at your throbbing clit.

Dieter grunts out a strangled noise, his fists balled in the sheets beneath him. Emily tuts, removing her hand from your side to grip his wrist, placing his palm over your breast. She pushes her fingers over his, a silent direction to squeeze.

He obeys, lifting his other hand to caress the full roundness of your tits, drawing his fingernails over the peaks of your nipples. You shiver, goosebumps rising over the span of your arms and thighs.

You’re moving against him faster now, his cock hitting athe deepest parts of you. It’s so much, you’re so full, and the tight circles that Emily rubs across your clit send you spiraling to the edge.

Emily can feel it in the way your back arches against her, can see it in the way you tremble over Dieter’s cock, can hear it in the way your breath hitches and soft, breathy moans punch the air between you.

“Baby’s gonna cum, D. Look how good you’re doing,” she coos. “What a good boy you are.”

He clenches his eyes closed, focusing on anything but how your tits feel in his palms, on the heavy drag of his cock in your soaked folds.

“D,” Emily directs, leaning across you to dig her fingers into his cheeks. “You know better than to close your eyes.”

His fluttering lids pop back open, expression pleading, jaw slack. But Emily angles his head so he’s forced to look at the way he’s splitting you open, how the soft pads of her fingers are undoing you.

And you break, then, throwing your head back and bearing down on Dieter’s cock, fast and hard. Your orgasm washes over you, stars bursting behind your eyelids. Dieter growls, low and animalistic — primal.

“Again.” Emily’s voice is gruff in your ear, her fingers relentless at the apex of your thighs.

“I…I don’t think…” you start to stammer, but she hushes you by leaning in and pressing her tongue into your open mouth.

“Again,” she repeats when she pulls back.

Your moans shift into broken pleas, high-pitched and desperate. Dieter pulls at your hard nipples, rolling them between his skilled fingers. He’s groaning, too, eyes half-lidded and chest flushed.

It’s all so much, your body tightening more, more, more, hypersensitive from not having come down yet.

“You like it, baby? Like bouncing up and down on his cock? Like knowing he’s gonna cum so deep inside you?”

“L-like it, Em. Like it.” You mumble, vision deliciously blurred, words meaning nothing to you.

“Love seeing you cock drunk and babbling. It’s the only way I’ll let him give you a baby, baby. If you let him fuck you stupid.”

Dieter’s fucking up into you now, your own body no longer capable of being in control. His movements are sloppy, erratic, arms wrapped around your waist for leverage, but hitting every part that you need him to. Emily’s pace on your clit is grueling, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

But you’re cumming again, strangling Dieter’s cock with your convulsions, slick streaming out of you, pooling in the cradle of his hips. Fat, salty tears roll down your cheeks.

Emily finally drags her fingers back, smearing slick across your hip, skating them up your body to deposit them in your mouth. You suck obediently, obscenely, eyes closed. She laughs lowly, delighted at your capitulation.

And then she’s gone, her footsteps receding across the bedroom floor.

It takes everything in you to stay upright, Dieter’s weighty arms and warm chest an alluring invitation. But you know you’re not done, the grand finale within tasting distance.

Dieter shifts, loosening his grip, slowing his movements. Allowing you both some reprieve from the overstimulation, a chance to catch your breaths. He doesn’t stop completely, however, rocking up into you deliberately — almost sweetly.

It doesn’t last. You hear Emily return, her steps stopping at the threshold of the door.

“Look at our pretty girl, Em,” Dieter babbles, fingers splayed across the globes of your ass. He drives up into you again, hard, using his hands to spread you apart from behind at the same time. Putting all of you on display — your stretched open cunt, strained against his length, and the delicate ring of muscle just above — for Emily, who smirks from her place in the doorway.

You look over your shoulder at her, eyes hooded and chest heaving, your breath catching when you see what she’s sporting — the black harness and pink strap that you’re so accustomed to. You swallow hard, unprepared.

“O-oh. I didn’t know…”

“S’not for you, baby,” she chuckles, gesturing towards Dieter with her chin. You watch, mesmerized, as she runs her hand over the length of the toy, as commanding as you’ve ever seen her, while striding across the room.

Dieter whines when he sees it, his hips stalling against you, eyes practically rolling back in his head at just the idea of it. It would be pathetic, if it didn’t turn you on to see him so needy.

Emily comes to stand beside you, skating the tips of her fingers up the notches of your spine. The neon toy bobs suggestively between you, and despite your heavy limbs, your mouth waters.

She flattens her palm against the small of your back, effectively crumpling your lithe body against Dieter’s chest with little effort. He whimpers in your ear, cock flexing against your walls at the sudden change in position.

But he’s impatient, and Emily is persistent.

“Up,” she commands, tapping his thigh twice before moving to stand at the end of the bed. He obeys, rolling your both over gently, depositing you on your back, pressing reassuring kisses to your neck and collarbones.

“I got you,” he mumbles knowingly into your sticky skin, before Emily grasps his thighs from behind to drag him down the length of the bed.

You yelp, a giggly, surprised kind of yelp, as his grip pulls you with him, cock still buried in the furthest reach of you.

He’s kissing you again, tasting you with a different kind of urgency, while he hovers above you on all fours.

“You’ve been so good, D, giving baby what she needs,” Emily soothes, voice dripping with lust — with authority. “Now it’s your turn to get what you need.”

His body stills, save for the pounding of his heart against yours, his forehead dropped to rest on the slope of your shoulder. His heavy breath punches near the base of your throat, a hard swallow as you hear the cap on the bottle of lube click open.

You watch Emily through your lashes over the incline of Dieter’s back, his hips raised in perfect alignment to her imposing cock. She squirts the slippery liquid on her hand, and Dieter’s body quivers at the noise — at what he knows is imminent.

The way she jerks her hand up and down over the toy sets a fire in your belly, and you can’t help but arch beneath Dieter, your vigor renewed at the sight of it. You so badly want him to move, to buck back into you, to fuck you until he cums.

Emily smirks from where she stands, dripping the lube over the curves of Dieter’s ass, and you feel his jaw tighten against you when she does. It’s followed by a dark giggle as she trails her fingers through the slick, spreading it over every part of him.

“Ready, D?”

He hums in affirmation, a desperate, splintered noise that rolls across your skin. A plea.

She slips one finger inside him, all the way to the knuckle. He responds in kind, his hips jerking into you, a guttural moan crawling from his throat.

“Enough?” she taunts, pumping in and out of him the same way he’d done to you.

His hips keep rhythm with her, and the relief pooling low in your cunt makes you want to sob.

He shakes his head, mouth moving to capture your nipple, laving his tongue against the peak of it.

“Say it, D.”

“More,” he growls in response, muffled by the flesh of your breast. “More.”

Emily inserts a second finger, and he keens, driving into you with more force than he has all night. You squeak, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, the warm metal of his chain heavy beneath your fingers.

His hips snap against you relentlessly, almost painfully. Your lashes flutter against his sweat-damp curls, and in one swift moment, Emily removes her fingers to be replaced by the toy.

She pushes all the way into him, grinding against the meat of his ass when she reaches the hilt. His body arcs, hammering into your already-used pussy with such power that a choked sob catches in your throat.

Tears swim in your eyes again, streaming down your cheeks only when Dieter hooks his arm under your thigh to press it up into your ribs. Your calf rests on his shoulder, and the position stretches you open more than you ever have been before.

“Mmm, perfect, D,” Emily approves, voice faltering. “If you really want to put a baby in her, you need to cum deep.”

He grunts in agreement, his breathing shattered and sharp. You can feel the way Emily thrusts into him as he thrusts into you, and it’s all at once too much.

Heat swirls in your cunt, tight, tight, tight, snapping as Dieter’s groans grow louder in your ear. Seeing him come undone sends pinpricks of intense pleasure over every part of your body, and you think you brokenly whisper the words gonna cum into his hair.

He pounds into you hungrily, encouraged by the way your pussy pulses around his thick length. It’s all you need — your cunt spasming, devouring, taking, as another orgasm rips through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Everything following is a white static.

Dieter isn’t far behind, his thighs shaking between you and Emily, torn between the push and pull of giving and receiving deliciously.

“Need to cum,” he finally cuts, voice tight. He doesn’t stop, but Emily doesn’t stop either, still slamming into him as hard as he does into you.

Emily doesn’t hesitate in her response.

“No. Not yet. Need to make baby cum one more time.”

Those words cut through, a knife through the fog.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you cry, fingernails digging into Dieter’s muscular shoulders, at the same time Dieter cries out.

“Please, Em,” he begs, voice cracking through the air in the room. “Please.”

“One more,” she directs, hands gripping Dieter’s hips, guiding him back onto her length. “You can, baby. You can.”

You’re sobbing now, knee pressed into your chest, spread open, split in two, stuffed full.

“You can, baby, you can,” Dieter echoes in your ear, his own voice just as desperate — strained and thick. “Cum for me. Let me give you a baby.”

And you do, melting beneath his solid body completely, tears dripping down your temples into your hair. It overtakes you entirely, slick gushing from your aching cunt, soaking both Dieter and the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter spits, and you can taste the urgency in his voice. “I can’t…I need…baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Ask for it, D.” Emily smirks, knowing, too, that he’s well past the point of return.

“Pl…please. Need…need… to c-cum,” he chokes, thrusts brutal and frantic.

“Cum, then. Give baby a baby.”

Immediately, Dieter’s entire body tenses, tight as a bow string, before he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon, arms flexing, primal growls ripping from deep in his chest. He presses his open mouth to your shoulder, teeth scraping your buzzing skin, as thick ropes of cum spill inside of you.

Time slows as it happens, your awareness of every pulse and clench of his cock heightened. There’s so much of it — flooding your pussy, gushing out around his still-hard cock, dripping down the curve of your ass.

For what feels like an eternity, the only sounds in the room are three rugged, matching breaths.

“Good boy, D,” Emily finally gasps, leaning forward to ruffle his curls affectionately. “You did so good.”

He mumbles something against your skin that you can’t make out, but sounds a lot like thank you.

Your head is still swimming, the bittersweet throb between your thighs persistent.

Dieter finally pulls out, delicately, easing his frame down next to yours.

“Okay, baby?” he mumbles into your ear, and you think you nod.

Your eyelids are heavy, so heavy, body overwrought and sensitive to the touch. But you don’t pull away when he nuzzles into your neck, lips grazing the tender flesh there. The pads of his fingers slide back and forth over your womb a few times, a mesmerizing movement that lulls you half to sleep.

“Sit up,” Emily whispers, rousing you just enough that you let her guide your malleable body to a sitting position. “Arms.”

You obey, eyes still cloudy, raising your arms over your head so Emily can pull a t-shirt down over your exposed body. It’s too big, and smells too much like Dieter, to be your own. The material puddles in your lap, and Dieter fists the hem to tug you back down to him. He’s all soft sighs and kitten licks when you capitulate, open palm tugging your hips flush to him.

Then the mattress bows, Emily climbing on the other side of you, sandwiching your body between the two of them. She gently clasps your cheeks, angling your face towards her so she can press her mouth to yours reverently.

“Tired, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” is all you can muster, your limbs still liquid.

Dieter presses his forehead to the contour of your shoulder, warm breath fanning your dewy skin when he speaks in a whisper.

“I should go.”

Your eyes fly open, and you’re squirming around to face him, winding your legs into his to cling to him.

“No. I want you to stay. I want you to stay at least until it’s for sure,” you pout.

He cranes his neck to look across you at Emily, unsure how to proceed. She laughs affectionately, brushing away the hairs clinging to your sweat-damp forehead.

“Baby makes the rules, D.”

“Baby makes the rules,” he affirms, dropping his hand between your legs to thumb any stray drips of cum back into you.

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 12

We're back babey :DDDD Happy to announce hiatus is over fellowsssss but also TW for this one Steve has a panic attack. Also thanks as always to @stevethehairington for betaing and supporting and generally just being the best friend a person can ask forrrrr also @thefreakandthehair for listening to me ramble about this endlessly. When I say I was working on this for two months, legitimately for the entire two months I was working on this

Part One Part Eleven Part Thirteen Link to Ao3

Step Twelve: Watch Him Stumble

In terms of gigs, this probably had to be one of the best sets Eddie had ever played. The energy was off the charts, the crowd was in it with them at every step, and best of all, Steve had been smiling the whole time. Even the power going out had a certain panache to it. Like a final zinger to finish off the wicked guitar solo in Breathless that made Eddie’s heart race every single time he played it. 

Was it ideal to have to sit in the dark and wait for the lights to come back on? Not by a long shot, but there was no denying that the ending of the song had been one hundred percent bonafide metal. 

All in all, Eddie wasn’t that pressed about having the electricity cut out. It wasn’t the first time the power had died during one of their shows, and it wouldn’t be the last. The Hideout was a total dive, basically a shack at the edge of the woods with an electrical system that was shoddy, at best. The band’s equipment had blown a fuse so many times that it was practically routine for the owner to have to go downstairs and reset the box halfway through their set. 

“What’s going on, Dan?” Eddie asked as he saw the bartender’s flashlight start to come up from the basement. He was eager to get going again, unwilling to lose the killer vibe coming from the crowd. 

He also wanted to be able to see what a certain ex-jock thought about the song he had just played. But that was neither here nor there.

“Shows over, boys!” Bar owner Dan shouted, listening to the moans and groans from the patrons before sighing and walking over to the low stage. “Flipped the breakers twice, but nothing. Must’ve been somethin’ else that blew the power. We’re done for the night.”

“Damn it,” Eddie swore, scuffing his sneaker on the ground and strumming a discordant little note on his guitar for emphasis.

Of course this happened on the one night he was actually trying to impress someone. Of course. 

“You can leave whatever you want to here for the night,” Dan offered, waving his flashlight around, “It’ll be hard enough to find your way out of this place without trying to lug around all this equipment too.” 

Eddie didn’t care about the equipment. He cared about the fact that Steve’s first time seeing him play had just been totally wrecked by a stupid power outage. 

“Thanks, Dan,” Jeff said for all of them as Eddie continued to scowl, trying to push down his disappointment before it could grow into something impossible to manage. 

The bartender nodded once, turning and walking towards some of the patrons to give them the news, leaving the band to their own devices. 

“This blows,” Eddie groaned as soon as they were alone, mood still incredibly sour. 

“You’re just mad you didn’t get to show off for Steeeeeve,” Frank teased as the others started to pack up in the dark. Even if they were leaving their stuff there, they still wanted to leave it in a somewhat organized fashion. 

“Stones and glass houses, Frankie,” Eddie said warningly, turning to where he knew Frank was around and glaring. He was not above calling out the other boy’s very obvious crush on Janet at this moment, nothing was off the books when he was this annoyed. “No, I’m mad our set got slashed in half cause of a dumb power outage.” 

“Mhm, sure,” Gareth said, drawing out the word in a way that grated on every single nerve Eddie had. 

“Guys?” Janet’s voice floated over, stopping Eddie before he said something he regretted. Janet slowly came into view as she walked over to the stage, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. 

She was alone. 

Eddie’s anger vanished as a pit began to form in his stomach. 

“Where’s Rocky?” Frank asked, walking over to stand next to Eddie. 

“Where’s Steve?” Eddie emphasized before Janet could answer, looking around into the dark of the bar. It was hard to see anything but lumps bobbing and weaving about, but none of them seemed Steve-shaped. Still, there was no way Steve would just leave. 

Right?

“No clue,” Janet answered, rubbing her arm, “Steve was acting weird right before the power went out, and now we can’t find him. I sent Rocky to go look around.”

Weird? What did ‘weird’ mean? Weird was the kind of word that only made even more questions. Did Steve totally hate the music? Was he having a bad time? Had Eddie completely misinterpreted everything he had thought from before? 

But before Eddie could put any of these fears to words, Rocky’s silhouette came into view. 

“He’s not in the bathroom. I even peeked into the ladies just to be sure,” Rocky reported. Janet made a disgusted little sound, reaching over to smack the younger boy upside the head and give him a disappointed scowl. 

“Hey!” Rocky snapped, getting out of Janet’s line of fire, “Not cool. I’m just looking out for a fellow party member.”

“He’s not in our party,” Gareth muttered immediately, stepping around his drum kit to come stand with the rest of them. Eddie didn’t bother to fight with his best friend or even comment on his stupid little jab. He was too busy freaking the fuck out over the fact that the guy he definitely wasn’t crushing on had seemingly vanished into thin air. 

“What do you mean weird?” Eddie asked, hating the way his heart was starting to pound. 

“He was like really distracted? And looked kind of freaked out. Not just annoyed or uncomfortable, but scared,” Janet said, trailing off with a grimace on her face. She looked like she had more to say, but nothing else came, and an stilted silence fell over the group. 

Scared? Steve? The words just didn’t seem to fit together. Eddie couldn’t imagine Steve being afraid of anything. He went headfirst into everything, confident to the point of nearly cocky, so sure of himself Eddie was sometimes jealous. 

“Maybe he just didn’t like the music?” Gareth offered, but his tone was weak. “Used the power outage as a way to slip out?”

“No,” Janet said firmly, shaking her head. “He… Something wasn’t right, guys.” 

Something wasn’t right. 

Eddie knew this feeling. It was that heart stop stomach drop moment. The deer hearing the first snap of the twig under a hunter’s boot, a rabbit sensing that a snare was nearby. It was the same way he felt when he was walking around town and saw a car full of douchebags tailing him, or he went to the woods to make a deal only to find no one sitting at the picnic table. 

There was something dangerous happening, something that instinctually made Eddie want to run for the hills. 

Something scary. Something that was a threat. 

He needed to find Steve. Now. 

“Maybe he’s just outside having a smoke or somethin’,” Eddie said, trying and failing to sound casual. “Let’s go look.”

Eddie carefully placed his guitar in its case and hopped down, walking towards the direction of the front door and hoping the others were following. He would go on his own if he had to, but he really, really, didn’t want to. 

Luckily he heard the pattern of footsteps following his own, and Jeff bumped his shoulder against Eddie’s as they approached the exit. Eddie took a millisecond to be grateful for his loyal batshit insane buds, then he was back on task. 

“Steve?” Eddie called as he walked out the door, mentally sending a prayer to whoever might be listening that Steve would be standing right there, waiting for them to come join him. 

No such luck. There were a few drunks milling about, a couple making out against the side of the building, but no sign of Steve’s pretty boy hair or his soft sweet smile. Eddie’s heart began to race impossibly faster. 

“Steve! You out here?!” Eddie shouted, hating the panic that was starting to enter his tone. He turned his head in every direction, but he couldn’t see any sign of Steve. 

“He’s long gone, Eds, can we go back inside now? It’s fucking freezing out here,” Gareth asked, rubbing at his bare arms and shivering as the frigid winter wind raced past them. Eddie could barely feel his own body, but he ignored both the cold and Gareth’s words, walking towards his van. 

Steve was there. He had to be. He had to be, or else Eddie was going to lose his mind worrying over what was probably nothing, and he might say something incredibly stupid when they actually found Steve, and that would ruin everything they had worked so hard to build. 

Luckily for Eddie’s increasingly fragile mind and heart, he spotted a shape sitting near the van. Eddie practically melted in relief, jogging around to the other side of his van, needing to see Steve’s face. 

“Well if you wanted to dine and dash so bad, Harrington, you should have-” 

Eddie cut off the idiotic quip he had been in the middle of saying, struck silent by the state he found Steve in. All of the relief he had been starting to feel instantly vanished, replaced by a bone deep dread that overtook Eddie’s entire being. 

Steve was on the ground, his knees pulled close to his chest and his eyes staring firmly at the gravel. He was still as a statue, barely even blinking, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Eddie could see him shaking from where he stood, trembling like a leaf in the wind as he continued to just stare at nothing. 

Something was wrong. 

“Steve?” Eddie said softly, reaching out slowly as he edged closer to the other boy trying to get his attention. “Sweetheart? What’s going o-“

Steve’s hand darted out the second Eddie’s got close enough to reach, fingers latching onto Eddie’s wrist in an iron tight grip that instantly sent a dull ache racing up his arm. The physical sensation was uncomfortable, painful, but it was the look on Steve’s face that hurt the most. 

Steve’s eyes were boring holes into Eddie’s face, staring him down with a flat blank glare that looked completely wrong on his features. It was almost like he was looking through Eddie, not really seeing him, just dealing with the threat that was coming towards his body. 

It shouldn’t hurt. After all, Eddie was used to people in this town seeing him as a scary person. He didn’t really bat an eye anymore when people switched to the other side of the street as he walked past, and he didn’t care that much about the way mothers would grab their children’s hands if he started to approach. 

But something about the way Steve’s protective instincts had deemed him a danger just cut right to Eddie’s core. 

“Steve it’s-it’s just me,” Eddie stuttered out, trying subtly to pull away from Steve’s death grip. 

The combination of his quiet voice and tugging must have tripped something in Steve’s mind, because a hint of recognition flew across Steve’s face, and he instantly dropped Eddie’s wrist, going back to curling both of his hands in his hair and pulling, shaking silently as he let his gaze fall back to the pavement. 

“Eddie, back up,” Jeff ordered the second he was free, stepping forward. 

“Jeff-“

“Eddie, he’s having a panic attack,” Jeff said firmly, interrupting his friend before he could start trying to argue. “Back. Up.” 

A panic attack? 

Eddie had seen Jeff in the throes of a panic attack before, and it was nothing like this. Usually Jeff would hyperventilate, gasp for breath as his limbs moved almost uncontrollably. He would babble out anxiety fueled rambles until the moment passed, then usually retreat into the safety of solitude for a while as he tried to piece himself back together. 

Steve just looked… gone, lost somewhere none of them could reach him. 

But Jeff would be the expert on panic attacks, so if he said that was what this was, then Eddie just had to trust him and hope he could help Steve. Unwillingly Eddie took a single step back, falling into line with the rest of the group who had crept over at some point, and were now all staring at the scene with a mixture of horror and confusion. 

“Hey Steve, it’s Jeff, do you recognize me?” Jeff asked calmly, keeping his tone even and clear. He seemed completely zen, unphased by the very frightening moment. The only way Eddie could tell anything was amiss was the way Jeff’s fists were clenched tight at his sides, an easy tell that he was trying to keep his hands from shaking. 

Steve looked up when Jeff started speaking to him, giving one short nod after a prolonged pause. 

“That’s good. Can I come sit by you?” Jeff asked, starting to step closer. Instantly Steve seemed to be back on guard, stiffening up and pressing his back even harder against the van. Jeff took the shift in stride, taking a step back and holding his hands out.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay right here. That’s better?”

Another pause. Another short nod. 

Jeff took a second to think, then slowly slid down so he was sitting across from Steve on the ground of the parking lot, crossing his legs and taking a long calming breath. 

“Do you know where you are right now?”

Yet another pause as Steve contemplated the question. Eddie watched as Steve’s blank look shifted first to confusion, then to fear as he shook his head. Steve’s lip started to wobble as his eyes turned glassy and filled with fright. 

“That’s okay,” Jeff said soothingly, clearly trying to get ahead of whatever was starting to grow inside Steve’s mind. “You’re at the Hideout in the parking lot with me, Jeff. Our other friends are here too. Eddie, Frank, Janet, Rocky, and Gareth. You came to listen to the band play tonight, do you remember that?” 

Steve nodded, letting out a long slow exhale, a bit of the tension in his shoulders dropping. His hands slowly slid out of his hair, fingers playing with the loose gravel of the parking lot. 

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Jeff explained. His words were blunt, but his tone was still soft. “Have you had one before? Do you know what caused it?”

Steve’s jaw clenched up even tighter. Eddie found his mind starting to count the seconds, needing something to do in the moment in order to stop himself from speaking. 

He got up to thirty four before Steve finally opened his mouth. 

“The lights,” Steve whispered, sighing and reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It was… it was the lights.”

“Lights? I don’t- It was… it was just a power outage, Sweetheart,” Eddie blurted out, unable to hold his words back. His mind was racing to try and fit the piece into the puzzle, but no matter how he thought about it, Eddie simply couldn’t comprehend how the lights of all things caused Steve to fall into such a panic. 

He looked back at the rest of the group, seeing if any of them had any clue what was going on, but they all had the same confused fright on their faces. 

“No. It wasn’t,” Steve stated immediately, his voice firm and set. His eyes were hard again, and he was staring at the ground with a mixture of hate and fear that made Eddie’s stomach clench up tightly. “It was not just a power outage, and I need to check on my kids.” 

“Steve-“

“I need to check on my kids,” Steve repeated, interrupting Jeff harshly. Now that the tension was broken, the words seemed to be coming easier, and Steve cleared his throat before continuing, “My bag has what I need, but the doors were locked. I got out here and then the doors...”

Steve trailed off, looking lost. 

“I’ll grab your bag,” Gareth offered, startling them all. He held his hand out for the keys, and Eddie gave him a look, raising a brow. If it was anyone else, Eddie wouldn’t even hesitate, but Gareth offering to do something for Steve of his own free will was like the devil offering to tie Jesus’s shoe. 

“It’s okay, I got it,” Gareth said, softening his voice, something far too close to pity in his eyes as his gaze flitted over to Steve, then back to Eddie, conveying without words that Eddie leaving Steve at this moment seemed like a bad idea

Despite the tension of the moment, a part of Eddie relaxed. Gareth was just being Gareth- the good Gareth that Eddie knew was hiding under bitchy mean Gareth that had cropped up out of nowhere. Eddie tossed him his keys and the rest walked to the other side of the van, talking in harsh low whispers that Eddie couldn’t quite make out. 

“This can’t be happening again,” Steve whispered when it was just the three of them, a breathy half laugh escaping alongside the words as he wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked his head down. “God, it’s really never gonna be fucking over, is it?”  

The question was obviously rhetorical, Steve probably wasn’t even really talking to them, but a physical pain started to grow in Eddie’s chest from the utter defeat radiating off of Steve in miserable waves. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to ask,” Jeff stated, taking the risk to scoot closer and maneuvering himself so he was sitting next to Steve, his back flat against the van, “but, while we’re waiting for them to get what you need, do you want to try a grounding technique?”

“A what?” Steve asked, just barely raising his head. Jeff began to explain his favorite grounding technique, using short and easy to understand sentences to go over exactly what he was suggesting. Steve uncurled ever so slightly as Jeff was speaking, his full attention on the younger boy. Even Eddie was caught in the lull of Jeff’s tone, his heart starting to finally flow down. 

Then he heard his name. 

“Eddie.”

It was Gareth on the other side of the van, holding Steve’s bag up and giving Eddie a wide eyed look of horror. He gestured for Eddie to come over with a jerky handwave, and Eddie gave him a look. Wasn’t the whole point for Eddie to stay? Why was Gareth trying to pull him away just as they were starting to make progress. 

“Eddie. Now,” Frank whispered harshly, his head popping up next to Gareth’s. He also looked freaked the fuck out, still far too pale. 

“I’ve got him, Eds,” Jeff said in that same soothing tone pulling another deep breath and watching as Steve obediently copied the motion. “Go see what they need.” 

Eddie really wanted to just say fuck it and stay exactly where he was, but Steve was starting to get some color back in his cheeks, and if whatever was in that bag would help, then Eddie needed to get that for him. 

So, very reluctantly, Eddie walked around to the other side of the van, leaving Jeff and Steve alone. 

“What?!” Eddie snapped the second he was out of earshot of the two boys, throwing Gareth a harsh glare. If this was another trick or some weird tactic to fuck with Steve, then Eddie was going to seriously have to reconsider their friendship at this point. 

“Look,” Gareth hissed, shoving Steve’s bag into Eddie’s hands. 

Eddie peered in the bag, still annoyed and confused. It was all normal stuff. Well, a little weird. Steve’s car keys, a flashlight, a walkie-talkie… a first aid kit… and…

“Why does he have a knife?!” Gareth snarled, looking more terrified than angry. 

“Lots of people have knives,” Eddie said, trying to sound calm. The words came out strangled, falsely cool in a way that made it obvious to all of them that Eddie was just as uncomfortable as they were. 

“Okay, but why does he need that right now, Eddie?” Janet asked. It was a good question, but one that Eddie couldn’t possibly come up with an answer for. 

Why did Steve need a knife right now? Why would he even bring it with him tonight? 

“Eddie? What’s going on?” Jeff called from the other side of the van, still blissfully unaware of the latest update to their situation. Eddie shook his head roughly, dropping the knife back into the bag and zipping it up, holding it behind his back as he rounded the front of the van again. 

“What is it you need from your bag, Steve?” Eddie questioned, keeping his voice firm as he stared down at Steve. 

“My walkie-talkie?” Steve answered, a picture of innocence. He had one hand flat on the ground, and the other tangled up in Eddie’s necklace, his thumb worrying across the face of the guitar pick. Then Steve's words came back to him. 

I need to check on my kids. 

Hot shame flooded Eddie’s stomach as he remembered exactly what had led to all of them snooping in Steve’s stuff. Steve had just wanted to reach out to the kids, that was all. The knife wasn’t really that weird in retrospect, just another overprotective Steve thing. He wasn’t about to get stab happy on them, he just wanted a way to protect himself if it became necessary. 

Eddie could understand that. 

“Is it not there?” Steve wondered, some anxiety starting to leak into his tone the longer Eddie just stood there. “I’m sure I brought it, but-”

“No, I have it right here, sweetheart,” Eddie said, interrupting the thought before it could even form. He tugged the walkie-talkie out of the bag and handed it to Steve, sitting on the ground next to him and watching as Steve flipped it on and switched the channels, taking a deep breath before holding down the talk button.

“Guys?” 

He let go of the receiver, and immediately there was an explosion of voices as the kids all began to scream over each other, shouting Steve’s name and endless questions. It was impossible to make out exact words in the mayhem, but Eddie wasn’t interested in that. He was busy focusing on Steve. 

Despite the fact that he was still trembling, the pinched brow and nervous look in Steve’s eyes faded the second he heard the kid’s voices. He sighed, leaning his head back until it softly hit the van, letting the tension fall from his shoulders as his eyes slipped shut. 

“See? All okay,” Eddie murmured, needing to add extra reassurance now that he thought he could. Steve shot him a weary little smile, rubbing the guitar pick around his neck once more before pushing down the talk button once more. 

“What are we dealing with?” Steve asked, about to put the walkie-talkie back down before the sound of shoes on gravel caught his attention. As Gareth, Rocky, Frank, and Janet walked back around the van, Steve continued “and I’m not by myself right now, so don’t say any stupid shit.”

“Who are you with?” Lucas’s voice said from the walkie-talkie, sounding tinny and electronic. 

“And say over next time. Over,” Will added. 

“The fucking ‘over’ bullshit,” Steve said to himself with a roll of his eyes before picking it back up. “I’m at the Hideout with Eddie, now what are we dealing with?!” 

Silence. Eddie looked at Steve with a raised brow, and when Steve looked around in annoyance, Eddie caught his eye and mouthed the word ‘over’. 

“Jesus H,” Steve muttered, looking up at the sky as if begging God to help him. “OVER!”

“Well we don’t know that yet, Steve,” Dustin promptly responded the second Steve’s finger left the button, his tone dripping with far too much sass. "We were too busy looking for you! Over.”

“I’m gonna kill them,” Steve stated, rubbing at his temple, “I’m legitimately going to kill them.” 

“Everybody shut up,” A new voice barked. Eddie knew it from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. She wasn’t one of the kids, Eddie knew that much, but he couldn’t figure it out. “Steve, Jonathan and I will be at the Hideout in five minutes. Do not move. Over and out.” 

After a few seconds of staticky silence, Steve groaned, pushing the antennae of the walkie-talkie down and turning it off. 

“Of course she’s coming here. Of course,” Steve whispered, unknowingly mirroring Eddie’s exact thought process right after the power outage. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Was that Nancy Wheeler?” Janet asked incredulously, her jaw hanging wide open. 

No. Nope. There was no way. 

“Yeah, it was,” Steve said with a sigh, forcing himself into a standing position and stretching his shoulders. 

He was completely nonchalant about it, like it was perfectly normal to have your ex on walkie-talkie speed dial, and it was only natural for her to come collect you like a haggard housewife the second she thought you might be in trouble. 

“Nancy Wheeler, your ex girlfriend,” Eddie said dumbly, just to be sure he wasn’t being punked.

“The one and only,” Steve said dryly, becoming more and more himself with every second. It was like hearing Nancy’s voice had flipped a switch, and the vulnerable nervous Steve that had been sitting on the ground by his van was gone in an instant, replaced by a flippant easy going boy that looked like nothing had ever happened to him at all. 

It was bizarre, uncanny in a disarmingly normal way. Eddie had always kind of admired Steve’s coolness, how nothing seemed to phase him.

Now it just felt… not disingenuous per say, but more layered than it was before. It wasn’t completely an act, but Steve was definitely hiding so much more than Eddie ever could have assumed. 

“Why is Nancy Wheeler coming here?” Eddie asked slowly as he stood up, watching Steve like a hawk and looking for any kind of micro change in his expression. He got nothing. Steve was a brick wall. 

“Even if I could tell you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Steve said with a wry smile that didn’t look much like a smile at all. Before he could say anything else, they all heard the sound of tires squealing nearby, and a pair of headlights peeled into the parking lot. Steve moved like a man possessed, jogging around the van and towards the car still speeding into the lot. 

“What the fuck was all that?” Rocky said, asking the question all of them were wondering. Eddie shrugged, following Steve’s path and watching as Nancy Wheeler jumped out of the passenger seat of the still parking car, ignoring Jonathan Byers' shouting at her from the driver’s side as she strode towards where Steve had stopped. 

“What the hell, Steve?!” She snapped the second she had pulled herself away from the car. “No one knew where you were. You didn’t tell anyone, or leave a note, or anything. What were you thinking?!” 

“What was I- Nancy, what are you talking about?” Steve said defensively, turning around to briefly give Eddie a ‘can you believe this’ look before turning back to his ex who was still fuming. 

Eddie didn’t really know anything about Nancy Wheeler, it wasn’t like they ran in the same circles whatsoever, but he certainly had never expected to see her like this. There was two high spots of red on her cheeks, and her eyes were flashing in a way that just screamed danger. 

“You can’t just disappear out of nowhere! Do you get how irresponsible that is?” Nancy asked rhetorically, not giving Steve a second to answer before she barreled forward, “Mike and the others wanted to make a search party and start riding around on their bikes looking for you. What are you even doing here?”

“I didn’t realize going out was a crime,” Steve said in a moody tone, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Nancy a cool glare. 

Things were quickly devolving between the two of them, and as much as Eddie wanted to intervene, he hung back and observed. That was the thing most people didn’t realize about him. Eddie could be quiet and listen when it benefitted him. 

“It is if you don’t tell me where you are!” Nancy exploded, throwing her hands up as she did. “Especially if it’s because you’re hiding that you’re doing something dangerous.”  

With those words she poignantly turned her glare towards Eddie, as if he personally was holding Steve hostage. Steve’s face screwed into a dark scowl and he stepped so he was back directly in Nancy’s view line, blocking her from the others. 

Protecting Eddie from her. 

That shouldn’t have made him feel as warm as it did. 

“Nancy. I don’t know how you forgot, but let me remind you- We. Broke. Up,” Steve said, each word punching directly out of his chest and exposing just how raw that still fresh wound was. “You’re dating Jonathan now, so what I do, and who I’m friends with, and how I spend my time isn’t your problem anymore.” 

“Nance,” Jonathan said, trying to grab Nancy’s arm. She pulled away from his grip, stepping close to Steve. 

“Yes, it is my problem! You are still my problem!” She shouted. 

Eddie would’ve chalked it all up to crazy ex-girlfriend disease and dragged Steve away from the fight, but something strange was developing. The anger was quickly draining away from Nancy’s features and all that was left was a painful grief, the kind that made Eddie want to turn his head and find anything else to look at. This wasn’t just a jealousy thing, or psycho ex behavior. 

This was something more. 

“Look, I know we broke up, and I know that’s my fault, but first the lights flickered, then power went out, and none of us could find you,” Nancy said, looking down at the ground as her voice began to waver and her features inevitably turned towards tears. “You weren’t at your house. It was empty, and it was just the pool, and no one there, and I thought- I thought-”

Eddie would never know what Nancy had been trying to say, because Steve enveloped her in his arms at that moment, holding her gently against his chest as he shielded her from the rest of the world. 

There was a momentary flare of jealousy that ignited in Eddie’s chest, a second where he felt a blinding, irrational hatred for Nancy Wheeler and everything she was. But then Steve was holding out his other arm to Jonathan, who hesitated for a second and looked extremely uncomfortable, but came closer nonetheless, all three of them sharing an exhausted hug. Jonathan and Nancy put Steve between the two of them, joining their hands between his shoulder blades as they held him close. 

Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t romantic. No need to be jealous. 

Not that Eddie had any right to be jealous in the first place. It shouldn’t matter that Steve seemed to have some sort of weird magnanimous relationship with his ex and her new boyfriend. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his concern. 

It mattered. It mattered so much. 

“I’m fine, see? Right here,” Steve said, slightly muffled by the two people still holding him like he was the most precious object in the universe. 

“You can’t do that,” Nancy managed to gasp out, clearly in tears given how thick her voice had gotten, even if Eddie couldn't see them. “I can’t lose you too.” 

Too? Who had Nancy lost? 

The questions were only continuing to mount, and Eddie wondered if you could get a panic attack just by standing close to someone who had just had one. It was certainly getting harder to breathe the longer he looked at the three of them. 

“You’re not losing me,” Steve said firmly, as if he was writing it into law just by saying it out loud, “we aren’t losing anyone again.”

“You can’t know that,” Nancy said, her voice so soft Eddie almost missed it. As she did Jonathan looked up, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder as he made eye contact with Eddie. 

“Guys,” Jonathan called, reluctantly pulling away and nodding his head towards the rest of Hellfire who were all still standing there. Nancy quickly wiped at her eyes and Steve stepped back, putting distance between him and the couple again. 

“Hopper went to the lab,” Nancy said, picking her words slowly and carefully. “He dropped um… her off at my house with the rest of the kids.” 

Her?

“How is she?” Steve asked. Well, he knew, but Eddie was still in the dark. Who could ‘her’ be? Nancy had a little sister, didn’t she? Maybe she had a tendency to run off or something. 

“She’s freaked out. She passed out when the power outage happened, but we don’t know why yet,” Jonathan answered, wrapping his arms around his stomach. 

Steve sighed, swiping a hand across his face and turning around. He jogged over to grab his bag, slinging it over one shoulder as he walked back over. 

“Let’s just go. I don’t want to leave the kids alone right now,” Steve said, slipping back into his role as babysitter as easy as breathing. Jonathan and Nancy both nodded, waiting until Steve was in line with them before starting to walk to the car. 

It hurt almost, being forgotten, dismissed. It was like they had never even existed, like nothing else that had happened tonight mattered. 

It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t know he and the others weren’t Steve’s first choice of friends, but having it so blatantly thrown in his face didn’t feel all that great. There was an extra sting when Eddie considered exactly who those first choice friends were. 

Steve would apparently rather spend time with his ex and her new boyfriend over Eddie and his friends. 

Whatever. No problem. Eddie shoved the feeling down in his chest, deep where it would bother him all night long, but where it wouldn’t come out in mean lashing words towards anyone else.

But, as he spun on his heel and went to go stomping back towards his van, a shout behind his back stopped Eddie in his tracks. 

“Eddie!” 

Steve was running over to them, the back passenger door of Jonathan’s car still wide open. He slid to a stop right in front of Eddie, panting just a bit as he reached up towards Eddie’s neck. 

“I totally forgot,” Steve said apologetically, expertly unclasping the necklace and reaching over. Eddie shivered, sucking a sharp breath in as Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck, fingers just barely grazing Eddie’s skin as he returned the necklace to its rightful owner. 

“I had a really nice time tonight,” Steve murmured, looking up at Eddie with those big cow eyes and a bashful little smile. 

“Really?” Eddie said, thrilled but unable to believe it. Steve was probably just being nice, that was all. 

“Well, before,” Steve amended, his cheeks turning a soft red as he took one step back, futzing with Eddie’s necklace so it sat perfectly in the center of his chest. “I really liked your band.” 

“I’m glad,” Eddie managed to stammer out, both hating and loving the way his entire brain was turning to mush the longer Steve had his hand on his chest. Steve had liked the band, he liked the music. 

That didn’t mean he liked Eddie, but there was no denying the thrill that was shooting up Eddie���s spine. 

“Seriously. Thank you,” Steve said, patting Eddie right above his heart once more before mercifully pulling away. “It was nice to just get to be a little… normal.” 

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” Eddie replied, biting his tongue before he could do something stupid like promise that Steve could be normal with him whenever he wanted. 

“By the way you guys are all invited to my place for a Christmas Eve Eve party! It’s on Friday,” Steve said, turning to address all six of them. “I was going to mention it on the ride home but well- Anyway, we’re doing a yankee swap, so bring a present. Oh, and invite Kaiden too.” 

“A what?” Frank asked. Eddie also wasn’t sure what ‘Yankee Swap’ meant, but he was never going to turn down an invite to a party. Especially a party at Steve’s. The Harrington house hadn’t been the subject of a rager in quite a while, but if this was going to be anything like those parties, then it was not one to be missed. 

Plus it meant more time with Steve. 

“Dude!” Jonathan shouted from his car. 

“Coming!” Steve called back. He gave Eddie a quick flash of a smile before starting to run towards the car, waving a hand behind him as he did. 

“It starts at seven. See you then, Babydoll!” 

And then he was gone, disappearing into the car and driving away before any of them could give him a proper answer. 

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[cheesycatz]

Worm in the Apple (the Wormton AU fic) is at 120k words! Obviously the worm guy loves apples, fruit, and sugary stuff in general, though it holds no nutritional value for him. It's fitting, since most of the "worms" found in apples are actually just some form of insect, just like how Wormton himself isn't an actual worm. Being as contradicting as possible is his whole thing, I suppose.

May blithering helminth codswallop posthaste be upon thee if thoust must ruminate over thine virulent and insiduous merchant Sir Spammington G. Spammington The Deceitful:

Anyways, I've been struggling to write the depressing crap, so I often like to imagine the ending where they can all be happy together in Castle Town. I interpret Castle Town as a place where darkners are less bound to fate, since it doesn't seem to manifest from the real world, and is made of pure darkness, whatever that means. Wormton wouldn't have to hide anymore, but he would very much be, uh, neutralized if he tries to infect anything. He wouldn't get to have sixteen identical feral worm children that look like slightly smaller mirror images of him crawling all around the place, unfortunately; Castle Town could do without a highly invasive species that eats and destroys everything. I imagine that he'd keep the suit jacket so that he actually has some pockets, as well as to hide himself a little bit. Malworms naturally like to stay outside of the spotlight, so he's not very comfortable without his disguise. Not that being crammed inside his disguise was much more comfortable, but, hey, what other option did he have?

I like to imagine the addisons getting stuck with Wormton in Castle Town due to it having greater population density. I'm considering making it so that they don't even know he's there at first, like those criminal cases where some guy is living in a family's attic for months unnoticed. He'll have the opportunity to harass Swatch, interact with other characters like Lancer, and send "mild" death threats to Rouxls. I think he'd avoid Kris and the other lightners. He tries to kill Kris and absorb the SOUL from the get-go, and the two of them lack that puppet connection, since Wormton never picked up the phone. Still, he does pick up on their stilted movements that mimic his own when he's puppeteering his disguise, and does realize that the SOUL is a little more controlling than he would want, so they eventually reach a peaceful conclusion (This AU follows the pacifist normal route. This cold-blooded mf would probably just go into hibernation and do absolutely nothing if the player did a Weird Route). He's still pissed about them taking his shadow crystal, even if the starry night sky it once let him witness will never shine through its surface again. Kris is such a gremlin from what we know that I think it would he sweet if he valued the fact that, while they find his puppet-like disguise creepy, they're unfazed by his real appearance. Kris can go on his "people I don't fantasize about murdering and eating regularly" list, which might just be his "nestmates :^]" list if he'd actually admit it

Back to writing about him hating himself so much that he can't fathom someone healing him unless it was a transactional favor, hiding in a locked closet with no stimulation because he thinks he's trying to kill Blue whenever he's in an instict-driven half-asleep state (emphasis on thinks), believing the only reason that Blue is worried about him hiding so much is because they want him to leave faster, understanding so little of his actual species that he becomes stressed when he does anything that "isn't normal," Having fits of anger and mental breakdowns and feeling bad about it afterwards, using the worst coping mechanisms known to man, and devouring an entire 16 inch regular crust meat lover's pizza in one sitting

Cover art concept as a lil treat. Probably won't actually draw it until I'm ready to start releasing chapters, but it's fun to think about for now. I'll do my best to live up to expectations as someone with zero experience writing fiction and long-form content in general o7

[yellow-computer-mouse]

⭐Intro Post⭐

ATTENTION: My DTIYS is up! Due date: October 5th!

Hey, what's up? I'm yellow-computer-mouse, also known as Yellow! I have a lot more info on my carrd, but here's the important stuff:

Pronouns:

He/Him

It/Its

Star/Stars

Ey/Em

I am a minor!

I am fictionkin (Snowfall WoF, Winter WoF, Aeolus EPIC) and a therian (Norwegian forest cat)!

⭐Userboxes by @kthecritter and myself! and blinkies by @spectral-stuff & @dragonpride17⭐

I use a lot of tone tags, and while you don't have to use them for me, it can help if the tone of a statement is unclear! Here are the main tags I use, along with their meaning! If you have any questions on other tone tags, ask away!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

/gen - Genuine! I honestly mean what I said! There is no sarcasm or passive aggressiveness in my sentence.

/genq - Genuine question! I'm asking a question out of curiosity, not malice!

/silly - Silly! I'm just messing around for the memes.

/lh - Light-hearted! I'm not being too serious, so don't stress it! Normally used alongside /silly :)

/lyr or /ly - Lyric! I'm quoting song lyrics.

I am also always willing to add trigger warnings to a post! If you feel like it's needed, let me know! You can reblog, send an ask, or DM me, whatever is most comfortable for you!

This does not apply to the 🦃🪓 anon because that is still ongoing, but please don't start ARGs with me. It's super cool that people want to, but I am not a puzzle guy. Thank you! (And no hate to turkeyaxe ^^)

I also use a lot of text colors! Here are the main ones and what they mean!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Red - Added emphasis. I'm drawing the eye to the important parts of a big text block.

Green - Links! I will never put anything incorrect behind a link, not even a rick roll.

Blue - Mostly just used on this post. I use blue whenever I type out a tag in the main part of a post.

Purple - Song lyrics!

Pink - Tagging a user!

There's some more things that I want to add, so they're going here! Nothing too important, so you can ignore this part if you want. /gen

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

My favorite color is yellow! It took me a while to figure this out, so please don't be mean about it. No yellow hate on this blog! /hj

I also like orange and red!

I love getting asks! Even if it's just one word with no context, it makes me happy!

I love it so much, I made three ask blogs! All are WoF-centered: @ask-hs-jade-winglet and @wof-adoption-au are canon characters, and @wofsidequesters is for my OCs!

I also made a daily art blog called @daily-snowfall! go check it out if you're interested in having one (1) snowy on your dash every day

My favorite food is cheesecake!

My birthday is July 28th! I am a Leo (or a Cancer, going by the new chart! lmk which fits better if you want ^^)

My favorite animals are isopods, thresher sharks, and whale sharks!

My favorite UTMV characters are Nightmare, Red, and Dust!

My favorite WoF characters are Winter, Turtle, Blue, Sunny, and Starflight!

I have a pet cat named Azzy, a dog named Homer, and a leopard gecko named Honeydew!

I have an Artfight! My user is yellow-computer!

I take requests sometimes! Icons and headers, free to use as long as you credit me! I draw dragons, furries, cats, humans/humanoids... pretty much whatever! Requests are currently open!

I don't have an extensive DNI, but there are still some things I'd like to keep out of my blog!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Proshippers/Comshippers/Neutrals

Zionists

Radqueers

Anti-furries (from people who believe all furries are zoophiles to people who just think it's weird)

TERFs/SWERFs

Basic DNI criteria (homophobes, transphobes, right-wingers/centrists, racists, etc.)

Here are some people who I welcome here!

Alterhumans/Nonhumans! (therians, fictionkin, otherkin, otherhearted, etc! Voidpunk as well, but that's different from the others listed)

Selfshippers! (As long as it's not pro/comship, go right ahead!)

Systems!

Those with commonly stigmatized disorders!

People who are "cringe"!

In general, anyone who isn't on my DNI!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I am a part of many fandoms, but here are some of my favorites!:

Will Wood

Bears in Trees

UTMV

WoF

Portal

Slime Rancher

The Owl House

Epic: the Musical

The main fandoms I post about are WoF and UTMV.

I am taking commissions for Palestine! More info on that in the post below, or DM me!

Also, if you are a Palestinian with a GoFundMe, feel free to send an ask or DM me for support! I can't donate, but I will promote your campaign however I can!

Remember to do your daily clicks for Palestine!

Icon Masterpost

Furry Species (Aebe) Masterpost

UTMV/WoF Playlist Masterpost

Blog Masterpost

Thanks for reading my rambles, and have fun! ^-^

[bblovetarot]

{୭} What do you need to release?

ʚ ═══･୨ꕤ୧･═══ ɞ Pick a Pile ʚ ═══･୨ꕤ୧･═══ ɞ 

. ༄paid readings . ༄

。°⚠︎°。follow your intuition when choosing a pile. if you're drawn to more than one pile, that's okay! you may have messages in more than one.

。°⚠︎°。tarot readings are not 100% accurate, and do not dictate your future. please keep in mind that you have free will. these readings are also general and aren't specific to one person, so please take what resonates and leave what doesn't! 

Pile 1

Pile 1, it seems like you've been caught up in overthinking a recent relationship that ended, questioning the reasons behind it and reflecting on patterns in your love life. The recurring theme of meeting similar types of people and relationships not lasting has caused you anxiety, potentially affecting your sleep schedule. Some of you may be asking, "Why do I always attract the same kind of relationships, and why don't they last?" The universe is urging you to step out of your head and ground yourself. For some, you may already have answers, while others might still be seeking clarity. Balancing feminine (heart) and masculine (mind) energies is crucial for clear thinking. Meditation, journaling, reading, music, dance, and yoga are all ways to ground yourself. Finding what resonates best for you is important. For many in Pile 1, a spiritual awakening has occurred, particularly related to relationships. A mother wound may have impacted your relationships, leading to an insecure attachment style. For those unfamiliar with attachment styles, researching this aspect can provide valuable insights into your behaviors and patterns. This moment is transformational for you, Pile 1. While it may feel daunting, remember that the universe supports you. Seeking the guidance of a therapist could be beneficial if you feel overwhelmed. Releasing the fear you've been holding onto is a crucial step, and for many of you, it seems like you've already begun this process. As you release fear, an important decision awaits you. This decision has the potential to lead to more committed and fulfilling relationships, especially if that's what you desire. In a broader sense, this decision will positively impact your long-term future. To make clear-headed decisions, finding balance within yourself is essential. If you're seeking change, trust in the process, be patient, and believe in yourself and the support of the universe.

Pile 2

Pile 2, it's time to release the grip you have on a past relationship or someone you still harbor feelings for. Whether you are currently separated or entertaining thoughts of reconciliation, the universe is urging you to let go of the idea that this person is a "twin flame" or "soulmate." The relationship left you feeling hurt and possibly betrayed, and you might have shed tears over it. If you've been repressing these emotions, it's essential to confront them and allow yourself to feel. Memories of this person or past relationships may resurface, and you may feel ashamed or try to push them away. However, avoidance won't release these emotions; it merely suppresses them, waiting for an opportunity to resurface. Take the time to sit with your emotions, allow yourself to feel, and if needed, give yourself permission to cry. If you've been using distractions or toxic coping mechanisms to avoid the pain, it's time to release those patterns. There's a strong emphasis on avoiding reckless behaviors in this pile. Overindulging in risky actions, overspending, or excessive self-sacrifice without proper boundaries will only lead to more despair in the long run. Spirit advises caution and encourages you to look before you leap. Reckless actions might provide temporary relief but won't contribute to long-term healing. For those still entangled in this situation, the universe prompts self-reflection. Are you being fair to yourself? Are you living in alignment with your true happiness? It's time to release old patterns and people from your life. The universe is guiding you towards a different path, and this requires a leap of faith. Trust in yourself, listen to your heart, and believe in your ability to make the right decisions. While the mind may deceive with doubts and insecurities, your heart and intuition hold the truth about what you truly deserve, want, and need in your life. Trust in your inner guidance and take the necessary leaps when the time comes. If it means leaving certain people behind, don't let that hold you back. Some individuals are not meant to follow us on our life's journey, and new connections will emerge to enrich your path.

Pile 3

Pile 3, it seems that you've been putting a considerable amount of effort into something, whether it's related to work or a relationship. However, despite your hard work, it has reached a point where things feel stagnant or unfulfilling. You might have wished for success, but now that it's here or hasn't arrived, you find yourself detached from the outcome and even apathetic. The universe is signaling that it's time to release whatever has become stagnant or stale. This release is not meant to be permanent, but rather a temporary break. The guidance is to take a step back, surrender to the situation, and refrain from making impulsive decisions. Continuing to push forward without a break might lead to burnout. There's a need for you to sacrifice the urge to take immediate action and instead focus on surrendering to the circumstances. Allow yourself to take a break and be in the energy of receiving. The universe suggests a period of rest and relaxation to rejuvenate your mind and spirit. If taking a vacation is possible, consider doing so, as it could be a healing experience. It's revealed that you've been overworking, possibly influenced by competition or external pressures, which has led to feelings of depression and a lack of motivation. Now that this phase has passed, surrendering and giving yourself the space to rest will allow the chaos in your mind to subside. By embracing the energy of receiving, you'll find yourself in a better place. It's time to raise the white flag, take a break, and let yourself receive the positive energy and opportunities that are coming your way.

[raayllum]

i'm literally sitting here trying to figure out what EVEN i can SAY about aspec rayllum here? i think about them and i want to combust into heart emojis. i watched the first season when it first came out and then only happened to catch up last year with my qpp, and in between i was like. so infuriated when i found out they'd made rayla and callum a thing bc i - naturally - latched onto the green and purple character as an aroace icon at 18 years old, and my partner was like "no no no no TRUST me you've got to watch it, you'll love it"

they weren't wrong and after bingeing the whole show i'm stuck thinking about rayllum a LOT. they're written so much like my own ideal relationship that i kind of want to explode from it sometimes. anyway, my absolute favorite thing about them is how much emphasis there is about their friendship - to the point that when i watched season four, I can't remember which episode specifically it was number wise but when rayla suggested splitting up and offered to go with callum and he turns her down, my first immediate heartbroken thought was "she misses her best friend..." i just love how they're in love but they're in love cos they're best friends....11/10 no notes i need more relationships like that in media

ANYWAY long rambley ask about my loves aside, my question is what are some of your favorite moments where rayllum are so clearly best friends/goofballs in love?

No like honest to god though — me and the Rayla to my Callum are also in a QPR + dash of romance relationship and like... arc 1 and arc 2 Rayllum are just so goddamn sweet??

I don't agree generally that arc 2 Rayllum is more Mature™ than arc 1 rayllum — Callum is more patient and Rayla is more open, so they've matured as individuals — but merely just that they're different flavours of aspec-ness. Like arc 1 is the craziness and rollercoaster of meeting a stranger and realizing they're Your Person, and arc 2 is the deepness after the fact of "I know you, and I know that we can get through everyone so long as we have each other" mostly cause I think the main reason people label arc 1 Rayllum as more immature is because s3 Rayllum gushes over each other, but that's bc people have a hard time conceptualizing having deep admiration for your partner(s) that isn't infatuation... even though like? It's totally normal and welcome, like any long term relationship is "my partner is the most amazing person ever and i'm also very aware of all their flaws simultaneously" and like, arc 1 Rayllum hits that balance perfectly imo

I just love all of their stages and sides to them so so much

But yeah! Some of my fave moments Rayllum wise for the Best Friends quality has to be when they help each other up in 3x05 (Callum after the soulfang chase and Rayla on the ambler) because things are Weird but they're still always going to help each other? The "I missed my best friend" quality in s4 with no one laughing at Callum's jokes / talking about magic with him (vs their first scene in 5x01 being him telling her all about the magic stuff he's reading) and Rayla keeping her disappointment at bay always hits hard and I loove 4x06 when she's beating herself up and he takes care of her because a Good Relationship isn't about how you treat each other when everything's fine, it's 100% about how treat each other when life is hard/stressful and/or you're upset with each other

But I love all the gentle teasing in early S5 and the fist bump lives in my head eternally rent free. The 2x03 hug also means a lot to me cause that was the turning point she went from being a friend to being family and I think in a lot of ways, that's their relationship's most important turning point alongside maybe 1x06 (trusting her anyway!) 4x09 (forgiveness) and 5x04 (her opening up).

5x02 post-inn and stargazing scene are also faves just because of how happy they are talking about Nothing and everything, and like — that's just so fucking real, y'know? When someone makes everything automatically better just by being there

As Callum says, "We've been through a lot, and a lot has changed. Well, some things have changed, but not everything," and this never will