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danveration · 3 days

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Could you do a Cooper Howard x reader angst? Something with the reader getting injured or dying and/ or becoming a ghoul?

You and your stories are amazing btw❤️!!!

Thank you!

Parings: Cooper Howard x reader

Summary: You get shot and Cooper comes to your aid.

Word count: 1344

Warnings: Guns, blood, shooting, reader getting shot in the thigh, Cooper being a softy

A/N: sorry if you meant post-nuclear bomb. (if you wanted cooper howard like.. normal human & stuff) ALSO I JUST REALIZED THIS ISN'T VERY ANGSTY 😭😭 FFS. I hope you like it either way :))

It was a hectic situation. There were at least ten people pointing guns directly at you from all around. This was not how you expected your day to go. You didn’t even do anything remotely wrong. Just stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. Which was pretty common around here.

You were by yourself right now, which was another downfall. You didn’t have the capabilities yet to kill a bunch of people on your own. Maybe if you sweet talked them..? You doubt that would work. If only Cooper were here. He would have them all dead in a blink of an eye. Especially because they were threatening you. He seemed to have a soft spot for you for whatever reason. You felt the same way towards him. Even though people would look at you like you’re insane, you don’t care. You can see something in him that nobody else can. He always had a bit of a protective nature towards you the moment you two met. You thought he would’ve killed you, but he just laughed at how scared you looked and ensured that he doesn’t kill without a motive. And in his words “won’t dare harm a pretty thing like you.”

He is currently god knows where. You were tagging along with him but he went to go get more vials. He said he knows a spot where he can snag a couple. That was about two hours ago. It would be great if he just miraculously appeared right now.

“L-listen. I don’t want any trouble, okay? I’m just passing through.” You say, trying to sound brave but the whimper in your voice made itself known.

“Yeah, passing through OUR territory.” One of the men said, with a raspy tone.

“I didn’t know! I’ll go. Right now.” You say quickly, starting to move forward.

“Uh-uh!” One of them yelled.

You hear all their guns go off safely and you stop dead in your tracks. The panic and fear you feel makes your skin develop goosebumps.

“We can’t let you go, can we? What kind of example would we be settin’ if we did?” One of them spoke.

“Oh, just walk right into our territory, It’s all good!! It wouldn't be our territory if we did that, would it?” One of them say in a mocking tone.

“P-please. I just-“ You begin to say.

“Now what on hells creation is goin’ on here?” You hear no other than Cooper’s voice in the other direction.

You subconsciously release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

All the people snap their heads to the ghouls voice. Some of them look scared, but some of them look angry that their fun got spoiled.

“Well? Gonna keep gawking or is somebody going to tell me what the fucks goin’ on here?” He says.

“W-well we caught this one roaming on our territory.” One of the people spoke up.

“And?” Cooper questions them, as if daring them to say what they were going to do to you.

They’re all silent. Except for one. He must be new here or something because he speaks up in an angry tone, “and were gonna kill them.” He says, pointing the gun at you. He looks around at all his other gang members, and how they’re not pointing the gun at you anymore.

He raised a brow, “what’s the big idea? Why’s nobody else-“

BANG

Cooper shoots the man in the arm, not letting him finish his sentence.

Everything went slow from there. You see Cooper giving the man cold eyes, and then from your vision, you see the man look down at his arm, then you see him, with his other hand, grab his gun and quickly shoot you in your thigh before Cooper sends another bullet straight through his head, leaving him instantly falling to the ground.

You hiss out in pain and look down, seeing red liquid gush out and stain your pants.

Cooper whips his head towards you.

“Fuckin’-“ He mumbles as he rushes over, getting on his knees in front of you.

Everyone around immediately makes a quick exit, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the other guy.

Cooper would’ve killed them all for that, if it wasn’t for him not wanting to take his eyes or attention off of you. He feels scared, worried, mad, and mostly desperate. Desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to go back in time and never leave you alone in the first place. He would laugh at himself for feeling these feelings any other time, just not now. Now he has to focus all his attention on you.

“Is it bad?” You mumble out to him, not wanting to fully look at it.

Cooper thankfully notices how it isn’t in a vital place. The bullet went right through, so he doesn’t have to worry about digging it out or it causing complications.

“Well you got shot, sweetheart. It’s bad but it isn’t deadly. You’ll be alright.” He says, trying to ease the worry off of you.

He’s got to get you to a safe spot so he can properly treat the wound. Luckily he has lots of experience with these kinds of situations.

He stands up and leans down, putting his arm behind your knees, lifting you up and carrying you bridal style.

Your eyes go wide and you gasp in shock, but don’t complain. You don’t think you can walk anyhow.

Your cheeks flush and you feel a swell in your heart from his actions. He walks in silence, his brain wracking at how he shouldn’t have left you alone, and how he swears to make sure this won’t happen again. You’re in his arms, hurting, but for some reason you swear it hurts a little less because he’s close to you.

“This won’t never happen again, I swear it. You better be more cautious around these parts though, darlin’. Especially with me not around. People don’t give no mercy.” He says to you.

A little while later, you’re sitting on a mattress in an abandoned building. Your pants are pulled down a bit on one side, so he has access to the wounded leg. Cooper carefully cleaning and wrapping up your wound with a concentrated face. You stare at him and how his eyes look, how his forehead is frowned down in focus, and how his hands are handling you carefully, as if they aren’t used on a daily basis for killing and violence.

“You’re lucky it’s in this spot. A little to the left or right, and you might’ve not been able to use this leg again. Would’ve had to get you those robot leg attachments.” He says, laughing at the end of his sentence.

“You mean the ones that practically rip your leg to shreds? No thanks.” You say, laughing.

You look at him softly as he’s smiling gently, while finishing up wrapping your leg.

“Now would you look at that? All better.” He says, gesturing to your skillfully wrapped leg.

“Thank you, Coop.” You say. “I’m really lucky you came in time.”

“Well, I’d argue I was a tad bit late, but of course, darlin’. I’m glad I got there before things could’ve gotten worse.” He says back to you, adjusting his hat on his head.

He cares about you. It realized that right when he heard that gun shot go in your direction. His heart sank to his stomach immediately, thinking the worse. He’s going to make sure to keep a tight leash on you from now on out. Not in a bad way, just in a way that he’s able to be there if anything happens.

“Thank you, Cooper.” You say softly out of nowhere, looking at him with a bit of blush on your cheeks.

He nods his head in your direction. “You’re quite welcome, sweetheart. Now why don’t you be a doll and rest up. I might’ve wrapped it all neat n’ all, but you’ll still need to let it heal. We can take a couple hours break here."

#my works #fallout #fallout x reader #ghoul #the ghoul #ghoul fallout #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fallout x reader #ghoul x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout ghoul x reader #ghoul fallout x reader #cooper howard fallout #cooper howard x you #fallout fan fiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 day

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AITA FOR TELLING MY FRIEND TO STOP LETTING INTERNET RANDOS RUN THEIR LIFE.

I m20 and my best friend f21 talk about everything to eachother. We’ve been best friends for around 3 years but we got in a fight the other day here’s the tea:

She loves a really popular musician. Infact the most popular musician in the world. And she thinks that she’s being victimized and infact endangered due to the fact that a very small amount of people compared to the amount of fans the musician has don’t like them.

I think this is absolutely crazy. I think this is like when American southern Christians say that they’re oppressed like there isn’t a church on the corner of every street. This musician plays on the radio every other song, this musician sold out their over expensive tour, this musician is the darling of celebrity life and this musician is a billionaire.

Another thing is that the fans of this musician are extremely toxic. There are a few good ones including my friend but usually they are obsessive and mean.

My friend says that people bully her for liking this musician and she acts like it’s a weird interest that only a few people have but I think that’s crazy talk because this musicians fans bullied me as a child for liking things like doctor who and lotr. The even crazier thing is my friend has a ton of actual interests that people are mean to people about. Like indie video games and other bands but she chooses to act like this one is ACTUALLY the biggest thing that people don’t like about her.

I listened to her rant about how oppressed she was for liking this musician for around 30 minutes before telling her that she couldn’t let random people on the internet dictate her life or how she lived and that none of these people affect the musician in any way. I told her that the musician is a billionaire with a hot Boy friend who is literally not hurt in anyway by people on the internet not liking them.

She got upset and told me that she thought I would understand and that she listens to me vent about people mischaracterizing my characters all the time so I should’ve just listened to her.

Now there are a couple things about that that are funny including: she does the same thing. She talks to me about when people mischaracterize her characters and I agree with her and support her. She also vents to me about every single problem in her life all the time and I listen to her and give her advice.

I love her she’s amazing and smart and kind but this one time I drew the line because she is not the victim here.

Anyways she hasn’t talked to me in 3 days and I sent her an apology text which she has not responded too. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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perfectlyvalid49 · 3 days

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Today is Yom HaShoah, which is Israel’s (and by extension large portions of the Jewish diaspora’s) Holocaust Remembrance Day. Back in January, I wrote this post for International Holocaust Remembrance Day, in which I basically said that I thought that International Holocaust Remembrance Day really should line up with Yom HaShoah, but that I choose to take the “Holy shit! Two cakes!” attitude towards it, because the Holocaust is certainly a large enough tragedy to support two remembrance days.

The one in January’s date was selected to be in remembrance of the day Auschwitz was liberated. Because that date was selected to celebrate a non-Jewish achievement, I think it should be a day for the goyim to focus on how they can do better. If it is in remembrance of what good allies they were, then it should be used as a day to do some learning and reflection in order to be better allies to us now, in the present.

But the one today is timed to commemorate the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. Yom HaShoah is the day we picked not just to remember the 6 million who died, but also the ones who decided to die fighting. It is a day to remember that we must stand up for ourselves, even if the price is high, because the price for not standing up for ourselves is higher.

In January I gave some topics for goyim to think about in remembrance of the day. Because today is the Jewish remembrance day, I will share what I am thinking about today as a Jew, and invite others to think about it too.

I saw a post a few days ago where someone commented on a different post about why Jews didn’t leave Germany after Kristallnacht, and how moving to another country because some people broke your window feels like an overreaction. And that you will always be overreacting until it’s too late. How do we know the difference between “just” broken windows and a sign to flee? Knowing antisemitism is on the rise globally, where would we even flee to? How do I help my children avoid the fate of their great-grandfather (who survived) or their great-great-grandfather (who did not)?

We picked this day to commemorate the Jewish victims of the Holocaust, but also to remember that even in the middle of one of the worst attacks on our people (and that’s fucking saying something) there were Jews who stood up and refused to accept their fate. I have seen many Jews say that they’re getting “1930s Germany” vibes from current events. If things are headed in the same direction, what can we do to fight our fate? Ideally with words now, so that we don’t have to fight with pistols and homemade explosives like they did in Warsaw.

The reason for a remembrance day like today is to acknowledge the past, but also to learn from it. What can we learn so that when we say, “We will outlive them” we can mean all of us, not just the ones who are lucky enough to be geographically removed from the worst of it, or to survive despite the odds?

This is a little more downbeat than I had hoped, which is unsurprising given the nature of the day. I like to try to stay positive though, so I’ll say this: Six million people were murdered. The Warsaw Ghetto uprising did not succeed in its goal of liberation. But the Nazis did not succeed in their goal of eliminating the Jews either. We did outlive them. We are still here to remember.

Am Yisrael Chai

#yom hashoah #never again

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autistic-robin · 2 days

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Why “Hiding in the Light” Didn’t Work: Stranger Things’ Psychospiritual Implications

Supplementary Sources: Jungian Theory & A Wrinkle In Time

Alright, buckle in. I’m running on a year’s worth of spiritual awakening, deep dives into Jungian theory and non-dualism, and my own ego’s primary coping mechanism: immersing myself in media as escapism. The purpose of this analysis is to break down the themes of non-dualism and light/darkness in ST (and maybe predict some character arcs), and also to position the narrative of ST as a psychospiritual wake-up call.

For some context: last year, I discovered the work of psychoanalyst (or philosopher, depending on who you’re talking to) Carl Jung. He had a pretty extensive theory about the human psyche that I immediately connected to the themes throughout Stranger Things, specifically Vecna’s mind control and curse. I’m going to break Jung’s theory down as succinctly as I can, and then delve into how it plays out in our favorite gay monster show.

But before I delve into Jung’s ideas, I also think it’s important to define selfhood (you’ll understand why in a minute). For the purposes of this analysis, the experience of the “self” is an illusion created by our senses, perceptions, memories, and consciousness, all of which are impermanent. Therefore, the self is what we call “conditioned.” There is no you or me, just the ideas we have of ourselves.

Now, we can get into Jung’s theory. He posited the following:

1. Every individual has a “persona” they show the world (a constructed self) to feel like they belong. Underneath this persona, everyone has a personal “shadow,” or the part of themselves they don’t want to acknowledge. This shadow is always projected onto others— every negative thought we have about someone else is a product of our own unintegrated shadow. Note: The shadow is NOT bad, it just “is.” It’s actually there to HELP us grow and integrate all the unhealed parts of us.

2. Individuals’ shadows are usually part of their unconscious, meaning most people are not aware of their shadow side or cannot bear to delve into their trauma/darkness and begin to heal it.

3. All of human consciousness is CONNECTED. This means two things. 1: There is a “collective unconsciousness” that contains the sum of all of our unintegrated trauma, and 2: We can heal our collective unconsciousness by healing our own unconsciousness.

How do we heal our own unconsciousness? By becoming AWARE of our shadow side, accepting and forgiving the conditioning that created it, and working to encourage others to do the same.

What— or rather, who— does that remind you of?

Also— great use of lighting here.

We know Vecna has direct access to his victims’ consciousness; not just their memories, cognition, and emotions, but also their awareness itself. This is how he’s able to target and trance people. But it’s not just their consciousness Vecna has access to; it’s their unconsciousness. Their shadow. Their trauma. Yes, he has psionic abilities akin to El’s, but as far as we know, El can’t access the collective unconsciousness like Vecna can. She is only capable of “remote viewing” via the void or piggybacking into people’s minds. So why is Vecna capable of this?

If you want my take on it: the only way to access a collective shadow would be through accessing your own shadow. So is Vecna really Henry, or his unintegrated shadow? And is either really condemnable, considering the larger themes of the show?

We see this theme of non-dualism echoed in Brenner’s NINA pep talk with El:

It’s fascinating to me that they’re communicating these bigger thematic ideas through the show’s “villians”— while the above conversation could be taken at surface-level as Brenner being manipulative, it’s important to acknowledge the truth of what he’s saying. NINA is only successful because El faces “the good and the bad.” This is why “hiding in the light” is a no-go for Max.

Focusing only on happy memories is a form of emotional bypassing. Throughout the show, we’ve been told time and again that hiding doesn’t work. Neither does running away. The only way out for our characters is through their own shadows.

Now, the fun part: predictions. Looking at all of this with a Jungian lens, it doesn’t make much sense to villianize a character or to end the story by “defeating evil.” In non-dual theory, there are no evil people, only unhealed ones.

We know what worked for our characters temporarily (Will in the UD, Max in her first trance, El using her powers against Vecna) was the memory and vibration of love.

This reminded me of A Wrinkle In Time, which is a science fiction novel that’s been noted more than a few times as one of Stranger Things’ primary influences. In the book, a girl and her brother travel through time to rescue their father from an alternate dimension where all beings are controlled in a hyper-individualist suburbia by a giant, all-knowing brain. The climactic “defeat” of the brain is shockingly simple, but incredible impactful— Meg, the heroine, tells it over and over that she loves it. This love ultimately brings her father and brother out of trances they are in, and they’re able to remember her and travel back home.

(Tangent: And God. The implications of that, outside of analyzing ST, are powerful. How do we live in a capitalist hellscape that is so caught up in the mind— in acheiving, obtaining, securing, protecting the ego— that many of us have forgotten our hearts? The answer is love. Loving ourselves more deeply to love all beings more deeply, “the good and the bad.” But love does not negate accountability, and it does not excuse harm.)

Our characters are all struggling with self-acceptance and self-love in some form or another. Each is wrestling with secrets and lies, and the desire to hide parts of themselves they think others can’t accept.

Mike is clearly struggling with self-loathing, guilt surrounding what happened to El in s1, and a crippling hero complex.

Will is also on the self-loathing train, continually self-sacrifices to his own detriment, and is hiding his identity out of fear (not at all villifying that, just for the record.)

El struggled to reconcile her abilities and forced weaponization with her identity outside of the lab pre-s4.

Max was suicidal and had a lot of self-hatred after B*lly’s death.

Nancy parallels Mike in her survivor’s guilt post-s1 and exhibits the same lack of self-preservation and self-sacrificing tendencies.

You get my point. So how will these characters overcome their trauma? Not through hiding, or running, or bypassing. Not through the light alone. Through love— acknowledgement of their own darkness, compassion for the unhealed nature of others, and commitment to being honest with themselves and their loved ones. We know Will is El and Henry’s mirror/foil and will play a central role in S5, and with all of this in mind I think it’s safe to say he will break the cycle of bypassing and hiding from trauma and pain once and for all. He won’t fight it like El, hide from it like Max, or run from it like he did as a kid.

Only by integrating their shadows can our characters become truly “themselves,” or as Brenner puts it, “whole.”

I will probably have much more to say about this after my re-read of A Wrinkle in Time, but for now, that’s all I’ve got. :) Hope everyone is doing well!

#i dont normally do posts like this but my brain has been whirring lately #stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #vecna #henry creel #st5 speculation #st analysis #stranger things analysis

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etz-ashashiyot · 2 days

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You know how sometimes arguing a point is losing?

Like if you engage the argument at all you are inherently putting up for debate things that should never be up for debate and the argument itself is degrading?

You see this with interpersonal gaslighting:

A gaslighter doesn’t simply need to be right. They also need for you to believe that they are right. In stage one, you know that they’re being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate – your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage one, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate. In stage two, you consider your gaslighter’s point of view first and try desperately to get them to see your point of view as well. You continue to engage because you’re afraid of what their perspective of you says about you. Winning the argument now has one objective : proving that you’re still good, kind, and worthwhile. In stage three, when you’re hurt, you first ask, “What’s wrong with me?” You consider their point of view as normal. You start to lose your ability to make your own judgements. You become consumed with understanding them and seeing their perspective. You live with and obsess over every criticism, trying to solve it.

[Source]

But you also see this on a broader societal level, with people asking unfathomably awful questions about minority groups, such as:

[Source]

It should go without saying, but no group of people should be forced to explain that yes, they really are real people, dickheads. The question doesn't deserve an answer; it deserves at best a disgusted eyeroll + "Are you a Nazi?" and at worst a punch to the face.

There is also the related phenomenon of the "when did you stop beating your wife?" type questions. The question is framed as a yes or no question, but the real answer for the innocent is: "I've never beaten my wife and never would." But even that answer still dignifies the question with a real response and puts the idea in the mind of the listener that hey maybe that's a real possibility and this guy is lying because of course he wouldn't just admit that. Now I don't know what to believe, but I'm skeptical.

Even if he answers, doubt has been cast on his character and many people (maybe even most people) neither have the attention span to listen to his full counter argument and supporting evidence nor are invested enough in strangers' lives to take the time to dig for facts on their own. Critically, it comes from a good impulse that shouldn't be repressed or taken too far in the opposite direction; namely, that we want to believe survivors and make it socially acceptable to speak out about abuse.

This leaves us with the uncomfortable reality that balancing believing survivors and whistle-blowers against not automatically believing allegations that very well may be false and/or in bad faith is a very tricky balancing act indeed. Because of this, people tend to struggle with taking survivors seriously and with presuming innocence until guilt has actually been proven, both. And as for the latter, this is at least partially due to the same psychological factors underlying the Don't Think of an Elephant problem.

Why am I discussing this?

See the thing is that these types of discourse have all been used, heavily, against the Jewish community, especially since Oct 7th, but really going back hundreds of years.

If you want to be our ally, you need to be on guard for how people use this rhetoric to accuse Jews of absolutely batshit cookoo bananas allegations (like being lizard people or having horns, or secretly running the world, or killing Christian babies to use their blood in our matzah, etc. etc.) and get away with it. Now obviously if so many people weren't already racist towards Jews as a people and had a vested interest in maintaining their supercessionist cultural worldview from Christianity and Islam, it would be a lot harder for this to work. Alas, the past 2000 years has created a bit of a snowballing effect.

This culminates in the effect described so well by Sartre:

Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past.

— Jean-Paul Sartre

Right now, Jews are facing extreme levels of these types of rhetorical abuse, and are receiving very little help in the way of pushback.

We have to stop trying to explain ourselves and start just naming these tactics instead.

#antisemitism #המצב™️#jumblr #how to argue

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dizzycycl0ne · 1 day

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i find myself being so protective of both sides of the payneland debate and i think it’s so interesting

like i will be the first person defending charles and edwin never getting together and just staying friends/queerplatonic because as an aroace person it means so much to me and i would truly love to see that on screen and it does kind of annoy me when people are so insistent that it has to happen in order for the show to be good or for things to be resolved when no !!! it doesn’t !! it’s great the way it is !!!

but at the same time i would be so happy if it did happen and it annoys me when people say that it’ll ruin the show or ruin their dynamic or it won’t be realistic because no !! they can get together and be happy and it would make sense for that to happen !!!

i would be completely happy and satisfied with whatever happens because either way they’re still the most important person in the world to each other and there is no one else, no one else, that they would go to hell for

#your honour they are so important to me #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #painland

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mrsjellymunson · 2 days

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KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part One

READ THE PROLOGUE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars , @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts event.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter summary: It’s all hands on deck to try and help your unexpected visitor. You come up with an effective, if unexpectedly intimate, solution.

WC: ~4.41k

C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, descriptions of minor injuries, allusions to hypothermia.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, just comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💗 Also, I proofed this as much as I could but my brain isn’t braining very well at the moment so if you spot any errors please let me know 💙

My masterlist

PART ONE

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and the now-driving rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence.

You all stand at the door, mouths agape. Initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet with mud and rain and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaked clothes, the wet material seeming to drag his frame down even further.

You glance down and notice he’s barefoot, his feet the same mid-brown mud colour as most of his clothing, other than where thin rivulets of scarlet run down his skin.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they always were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems even lighter now, almost translucent.

His face is downcast, and he doesn’t make eye contact with any of you.

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure astonishment, as he yells over the sound of the rain, “Eddie? EDDIE!”

He starts to rush forwards, but Steve puts an arm out to stop him, protecting Eddie’s obviously frail and vulnerable state.

There’s murmuring and chattering and quiet squeals as everyone processes the sight before them.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate have brought him here, all of you only caring in this moment that he’s here. He's here! He’s here!

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle. They don’t seem to focus on anything in particular, and before any of you can work to bring him inside, he mumbles something that sounds a little like your name, sways a little and collapses, his knees connecting with the wood of the front stoop with a hollow thump.

Steve reacts first, stopping Eddie from falling sideways as he rushes forward, yelling, “Get him inside. Now!”

You hurry outside to help Steve whilst Robin opens the door fully and shoos the teens out of the way. Steve instructs you to grab under Eddie’s arm, and you both drag him inside.

You don’t have Steve’s lifeguarding or athletic skills and you’re not used to manhandling people, and you stumble over the threshold and flop backwards into the hallway. You end up sitting on your ass with Eddie half over your lap.

There’s a cacophony of confusion and the kids want to help, but they end up crowding you both. They want to touch Eddie, see if it’s really him, see what’s wrong.

The only ones who hang back are Will and Jane, you assume because although they’ve heard so much about him they don’t really know him. No one notices their somewhat tense demeanour, or the way they subtly keep glancing at one another.

Robin closes the door to keep out the weather, and out of the corner of your eye you see her covering her mouth with both hands.

You run a hand over Eddie’s form, checking for any obvious injuries. You spot his arms and hands are in a similar state to his feet, utterly filthy, with cracked and split nails and torn, bloody skin.

He’s bedraggled and shivering, has curled in on himself and is practically convulsing.

You speak above the clamour.

“Steve, he’s freezing! What do we do??”

Steve panics a little, pacing the hallway with one hand on his hip and raking the other through his hair. He makes a few incomprehensible noises before he remembers something, stopping suddenly and turning to face you. Clicking his fingers and pointing, he reminds you,

“Wait, didn’t you go on some outdoor survival course once, or something? At a summer camp? You told me about it when you got back. Something about how to help people who’ve fallen out of canoes into icy rivers? I remember because you were really sarcastic about it and said, ��It was sooooo useful. I mean, I go kayaking all the time, right?’”

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck, fuck!”

Slowly, some of the information comes back to you.

“Okay, we have to warm him up, but it has to be gradual, though. There was something about too much heat too fast maybe causing shock?”

You start to panic, screwing up your face and trying to remember all the things they taught you. ”Oh fuck, think, think!”

Robin puts an arm around your shoulders as Steve says your name, softly, reassuring you that you’re doing great and that anything you can remember will be better than the absolutely nothing that any of the rest of them know. Give him a swimmer in difficulty or someone choking on a gumball at the video store and he’s in his element, but any of this outdoorsy stuff is way out of his comfort zone.

Suddenly and from nowhere your brain kicks into high gear. You remember some of the training, and start barking orders.

“Will, get blankets, lots of blankets. I remember something about hot, sweet drinks…” Eyes wide and flicking between the stunned people standing around you, you ask, “Which of you makes the best hot chocolate??”

Mike and Lucas state in unison, “Dustin!”

“Okay. Dustin, Jane, you go make hot chocolate. Make a lot of it, and make it really sweet”, figuring you could all use some, and that there’s likely to be more than one person suffering from shock this evening.

Turning to her, you say, “Robin, help me take his jacket off and hang it in the kitchen by the stove. Mike, help Will with the blankets. Steve, Lucas, help me get him into the living room, in front of the fire. And anybody and everybody, go get more wood!”

Robin crouches next to you, helping you to ease Eddie’s jacket from his trembling shoulders, glancing at you as she does so. You’re guessing your concerned expression is mirroring hers, but you don’t want the kids to see so you keep it between you.

She gets up and moves to the small kitchen, placing his sodden jacket over the back of a dining chair and setting it in front of the old but functional wood-fired oven (one place in the house that’s almost always warm).

Steve and Lucas help you move Eddie into the living room, where the open fire gets stacked high with fresh wood.

Robin brings a bowl of warm water and some washcloths, and you sit eddie between you, both cleaning mud from his face and gently bathing his damaged hands and feet.

Jane sits on the floor behind you. Initially reticent and hanging back, she’s now sitting nearer to Eddie, carefully removing some of the twigs from his hair with characteristic diligence and gentleness.

You make Eddie take sips of Dustin’s (frankly, excellent) hot chocolate, and make sure all the kids have got some before asking Dustin to bring mugs for you, Steve and Robin.

Once he’s a bit cleaner and has had almost a full cup of Dustin’s healing brew, you all gather cushions and lay Eddie down on his side, facing the fire. You try to get as much heat on his front as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s still trembling and his skin is blue and icy to the touch, and he seems to be getting drowsy. You can’t remember much more of your basic emergency training, but it’s enough to worry you. Something about sleeping or going unconscious being a Very Bad Thing…

He’s wrapped in the blankets Will and Mike brought, but you fear the wet clothes he’s still wearing may well be hampering your efforts.

You have another idea, not sure whether it’s the done thing or if you’ll be able to convince any of the others to help you but willing to try anything at this point. You say, to no one in particular, “This isn’t working. Can we get him into the bathtub?”

Your eyes look up and scan the room, flicking mainly between Robin and Steve, and to your immense relief you see everyone nodding, trying to figure out how to make this work.

Dustin’s the first to stand, and you hear his voice crack a little as he tries to say with confidence,

“Tell us what you need us to do.”

You nod at him, once, before beginning,

“Dustin, Will, can you run a bath? Make it warm, but definitely not hot. Mike, Lucas, get towels. Hurry!”

After a few minutes, Dustin and Will return, letting you know they’ve filled the tub with warm, but not hot, water. Steve and Lucas reprise their roles as patient transport, and start to move Eddie towards the small bathroom.

As you follow them and traverse the narrow hallway you glance at the weather hammering outside the window of the back door. Something seems off, and it’s only after a few moments of consideration that you realise the leaves and rain are travelling in the opposite direction to those at the front door. This doesn’t make sense - surely the storm should be pushing them all the same way? It’s almost like you’re currently somehow in the centre of a swirling storm…

You don’t have time to dwell on this as Steve calls to you, asking what they should do now. You hurry to the bathroom and see that Steve has balanced Eddie’s butt on the side of the tub.

You reply,

“We need to get him out of these wet things.”

Grunting as he shifts position, Steve nods once and barks to Lucas, “Hold him up.”

Lucas does his best to stabilise your almost-unconscious friend. Kneeling in front of him, Steve fusses with Eddie’s waistband, grunting, “Sorry, buddy, it’s for the best”, as he unceremoniously yanks off Eddie’s jeans. New-looking, unripped, black 501 jeans.

Relieved to see he’s wearing boxers, they both balance Eddie as they work to remove his shirt. His Hellfire shirt. He only had two. Okay, this is officially getting weird…

As Steve and Lucas work you start to strip off your clothes, ending up in just your underwear and bra. You don’t even care that they’re in the room, reasoning that not only have they all seen you in your bathing suit before, but also that this was definitely not the time for bashfulness or self-consciousness.

Steve asks you what you’re doing, and you explain that you’re getting in the bath with Eddie, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Steve, he’s practically unconscious. You want him to slip under the surface and drown? Come on, let’s get him in here.”

Without waiting for any replies, you step into the water, relieved that the younger boys heeded your instructions and it is indeed warm, but not too hot. You wave your hands in vertical circles, as if it would bring Eddie closer faster.

The old bath is short, but wide, and you’re pretty sure you’ll both fit.

As the boys manhandle him you’re momentarily stunned as you see the outlines of Eddie’s ribs and shoulder blades brought into stark relief by the harsh lights of the room. But you’re jolted back to reality as you hear Steve grunting a little as he starts to manoeuvre Eddie’s legs into the water.

You help Steve and Lucas to get Eddie in, slowly lowering him in case even this is too much of a shock. You slide down behind him and sit with him between your legs, supporting him with his back against your chest. You rub his arms gently, and murmur, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Please warm up, Eddie. Please.”

Gesturing to your now-muddy garb and Eddie’s discarded garments, you ask, to nobody in particular, “Can someone get these clothes in the washer?”

Lucas bundles them up in his arms and heads towards the door, calling for Robin’s assistance. Steve thanks him as he leaves and closes the door, staying in with you and Eddie.

The water comes up around your mid torso. You use your hand to slosh the warm water around Eddie’s upper chest, but eventually decide that’s not enough.

You use a small jug that you and Robin use for hair washing to run warm water over Eddie’s skin, gently trying to warm him, but also carefully working to remove what mud and detritus that you can. He still feels cold to the touch, but after quite a few nerve wracking minutes he appears to be shivering less.

You and Steve share concerned glances, and Steve comforts you as you comfort Eddie, crouching down and reaching over the side of the tub to stroke your shoulder, reassuring you, telling you that you’re doing good, that this is helping.

Eddie sighs a little as you run water through his hair and down his torso, picking out the leaves left from Jane’s efforts and throwing them onto the floor.

Though it’s still cool, and preternaturally pale, Eddie’s skin seems to have warmed a little.

Hearing chattering and commotions outside, Steve stands, and you can tell he wants to check on what chaos might be transpiring in the rest of the house.

“I’m gonna go check on the others. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Okay, good. Just make sure you do. I’ll be back soon.”

Steve gives you a small smile as he exits, leaving you two alone in the tub.

After the door closes you allow yourself a moment of pure self-indulgence and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s body pressed against your own. His back nestles against your chest, his spine between your breasts. His pelvis is slotted between your thighs, and you can feel the jut of his hips and his coolness on the delicate skin there. There’s a subtle pressure on your centre, but you try your best to ignore it.

You tilt your head forward a little, just enough to rest your nose amongst Eddie’s wet tresses, and run your hands gently down the outside of his arms. Not necessarily to clean or warm them this time, but just to feel them. To feel him.

The circumstances are so far from ideal, but part of you can’t help but revel in this proximity, this intimacy. You always wanted to be like this with Eddie, to have this closeness, but you didn’t think he’d ever want the same with you. You indulge yourself further and start to daydream, imagining it’s just you and him, that it’s a lazy weekend, and you’re enjoying a bath together just for the fun of it. Maybe you’re in your own shared apartment, the sun is bright outside and the scent of summer flowers is drifting in through your open window. No worries, no dramas, just you and Eddie, and the only thing on your minds is the promise of a romantic evening together.

A noise outside the room, possibly something clattering in the kitchen, breaks your trance. Taking a deep breath and looking up again, you shake yourself out of your reverie. Wanting to take full advantage of the warm water whilst you still can, you take a chance and lean back against the sloped end of the bathtub, taking Eddie with you, submerging you both a little more. You continue to use one hand to scoop warm water over Eddie’s shoulders and collarbones, occasionally running your fingers over his chest and throat.

You use your other hand to run your fingers through his wet hair, and as you stroke him he turns his head to one side and nuzzles ever so slightly under your chin. His breathing is regulating, and he’s even humming a little. The physical pressure of his body resting between your legs is increased, but you manage to keep your focus on the matter at hand.

After a few more minutes Eddie’s hands seem to warm and regain a little function. He stills the movements of your hand on his chest and clumsily interlaces his fingers with yours, gripping as tightly as he’s able as a couple of fat tears run down his cheeks. He’s still not able to talk, but just by his actions he’s telling you so much.

You hum into the top of his head,

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’m here. You’re with us now. You’re safe.”

You feel him relax a tiny bit more.

You sit in stillness for a few more long minutes, and, using the opportunity to observe him further, you notice more changes.

He was always wiry, but his muscles had a soft bulk beneath his ivory skin. Now, they’re solid and taut, and you can almost see striations running their length. The skin stretched over them is thinner, and the healthy layer of subcutaneous fat is completely gone.

As well as his altered skin tone and skinnier, but somehow also more muscled, physique, you notice the angry silver and red marks in his skin. Sharp, starburst patterns that look like chunks of his flesh have been ripped out of him.

Of course, they were.

You shudder at the memory of the altercation with the demobats, watching Eddie bleed out, dragging him through the gate but none of you able to do anything to save him.

You so want to know what happened to him after you were all whisked away in ambulances and trucks and black SUVs. You’re sure you saw him bundled into a black body bag, lifted into one of the Hawkins National Laboratory vans, but where he went after that you had no idea.

Wanting to be closer to him, and inveterately curious, carefully, so carefully, you run a fingertip over one of the scars on his neck.

He tenses, and flinches slightly.

Okay, we’re not doing that just yet.

You both sit in the stillness for another little while, and the bath water begins to cool. Before you could call him for help, Steve comes back in to check on you both.

When he’s satisfied that neither of you have drowned, you check in and ask how everyone else is doing. Usually, when they stay over, the kids sleep on the floor in the living room in their sleeping bags. Steve lets you know that for tonight, Robin’s decided to sleep on the sofa in there with them. She says it’s for company, or reassurance, or whatever, definitely not because she’s at all freaked out and not wanting to sleep alone. He tells you the kids have enthusiastically agreed, that Robin’s calming them, placating their rampant questions and desires to see Eddie, and is managing to get them to at least lie down, even if they don’t sleep. You and Steve are supremely grateful.

As confident as you both can be that the immediate emergency is tackled, and with the bath water continuing to cool around you, you’re aware that you and Steve need to think about practicalities, and discuss quite what you’re going to do next.

Steve’s the first to broach the subject, drumming his fingers lightly on the side of the bath as he checks Eddie over once more and says,

“So, uh, what’re we gonna do with him now?”

Remembering more of your rudimentary training, you decide to make another unusual request.

“Well, uh… This is probably gonna sound kinda weird, but…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I remember something from the training that said body heat is the best thing for warming someone up. Like, consistent, reliable body heat.”

You pause to assess Steve’s response. His brow is slightly furrowed and he’s looking a little pensive, but he nods for you to continue.

“And there was something about how skin to skin contact is even better. So, I mean I totally get it if you don’t wanna do this, but I thought I’d we could maybe get him into a bed and then sleep either side of him. Like maybe even spoon him or something… I dunno, I guess this sounds pretty crazy…”

You shake your head and look down into the tub, noticing that your fingers are still laced with Eddie’s, and he’s gripping your hand like he doesn’t want to let go.

“No, uh…” Steve clears his throat. “Y’know, I can totally see how that would work. Uh, okay, uh yeah, I guess we could do that.”

He gives you a half smile, his other hand running down his cheek, as he processes what he’s just agreed to.

The one-storey cabin has three bedrooms. A single, one with a double bed and one with a king. Steve, the tallest out of the three of you and, apparently, the most likely to starfish, got the king, whilst Robin opted for the coziness of the single (the one with the good view), leaving you with the double. The only sources of heating in the cabin, other than the open fire and the stove, are two clunky old electric heaters, which you try not to use too often, and if you're honest are a little scared of. Steve runs hot so he insisted you and Robin had one each in your rooms.

After a few more moments of deliberation Steve seems to have made a plan in his head. Nodding to himself, he stands, and says,

“Well, my bed’s the biggest, so I guess we’ll go in there. I’ll get the boys to move the electric heater from your room for extra warmth. And don’t even think about telling me no. I’m fine to overheat for one night if it helps Eddie, okay?”

He gives you a kind smile as he goes to leave the room, and you give him a relieved one in return. That was actually far less awkward than you thought it was going to be, and you’re thankful that you and Steve now have a plan.

You dislodge the plug with your foot and start to drain the bath, sluicing as much of the mud and detritus down the plug hole as you can, and Steve returns to help Eddie to stand and get out. You both dry him off, wet boxers notwithstanding, and do what you can to blot some of the dampness from his hair. While Steve holds Eddie up, you give a cursory wipe to your shoulders and feet and wrap a large towel around your middle, figuring the most pressing matter now is getting Eddie into bed.

Eddie shuffles from the bathroom to Steve’s room, supported between the two of you. He’s still not speaking, and can only manage a few moans and whimpers as you manoeuvre him. You see the kids peering intently at you all from the living room, and they seem comforted by the fact that Eddie’s at least upright and making noises.

You sit him on the edge of Steve’s bed, and as Steve bustles around the room getting the heater set up you examine Eddie’s injuries again. The scrapes and cuts on his hands and feet look raw and painful, but not deep, and they’ve stopped bleeding. And you’re relieved to see that he doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Not fresh ones, at least…

You ask Steve if he can loan Eddie some dry clothes for the morning, and he chooses a few things from the drawers across the room.

You help Eddie to lie down in the middle of the mattress, whilst Steve lifts his legs onto the bed and pulls a sheet over him. Brandishing the clean boxers he’s retrieved, Steve says, in his best Team Captain voice, “Okay, we need to change these. Sorry again, buddy, but it’s for the best.”

Steve manages to change Eddie’s underwear under the covers, explaining it’s for his modesty, as Eddie grumbles but doesn’t resist.

Steve turns around whilst you dry off and change into the fresh underwear Robin delivered for you, and you slide under the covers and sit at the headboard as Steve does the same on the other side.

Eddie’s breathing is more regular, and he’s no longer shivering, so you feel safer now letting him drift into sleep. You move some strands of drying hair from his cheeks, and gently stroke the side of his face. Steve gives you a moment before pulling the comforter up and placing extra blankets on top of you all.

In the quiet, you notice that the wind and rain have died down, leaving only the hum of the heater and the delicate, rhythmic patter of drizzle on the window as the soundtrack to your evening. It’s oddly comforting.

You move down under the covers, and as the two of you organise the blankets and start to settle around Eddie, you say in a low voice,

“Thanks, Steve. You’re a true friend.”

He responds, kindly,

“Hey, I’m not the one who just got into a muddy bath with him and pulled half a tree out of that jungle he calls his hair. I think that title most definitely belongs to you.”

You snort quietly at Steve’s observation as you snuggle into the bed. You both encourage Eddie to turn so his front is against your back, feeling his cool skin down the length of you, as Steve slots himself around his back, pulling up the covers and turning off the bedside lamp as he goes.

In the darkness you reach behind you and pull one of Eddie’s arms across your torso. You clutch his hand to your chest, wrapping both of yours around it, telling yourself it’s to warm him up, but knowing deep down it’s because you desperately want to feel him around you, and imagine he’s holding you.

You feel his breathing regulate, puffing rhythmic exhales against your neck. As exhausted as you are, a million questions still run through your mind. So many unknowns, whats, whys and hows.

What happened? Where’s he been? Why is he dressed in the clothes you guys picked out to bury him in? Does Owens know about this? What the fuck is going on?

All you know for sure is two things:

One, you’d do anything to keep Eddie safe.

And two, tomorrow is going to be a very, very interesting day…

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part.

Comments and reblogs keep writers writing, I’d love to hear from you.

My masterlist

I now have taglists for ‘everything’ and for each of my ongoing series, let me know if you’d like to be included!

Taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256

Extra tags: I’ve rather presumptuously tagged everyone who enjoyed or reblogged previous parts, just let me know if you’d rather I didn’t! @nicolothy @mmunsonsstuff @songforeddiemunson @kookygranger @lovingonthemoon @elegantkoalapaper @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn

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viethehallucination · 2 days

Text

impulsivity in bpd can be cutting and dyeing your hair, but it’s also frying and destroying your hair to a point where it’s completely ruined and you’re self conscious of it everyday.

impulsivity in bpd can be having an attitude and saying some petty things to people, but it’s also ruining every good friendship and relationship you’ve ever had and you can’t stop yourself from sabotaging everything, so you end up alone in a deep pit.

impulsivity in bpd can be having some drinks, doing dr*gs, or having a lot of meaningless sex. but it’s also relying on drinking and dr*gs so much that you’re completely off your face all time and it ruins your image and every aspect of your life. and it’s also no one wanting a relationship with you because you “sleep around” or “probably have an std”.

impulsivity in bpd can be browsing an fps facebook. but it’s also stalking their every move online and their every step in the real world constantly because you need them so bad. you can’t live without knowing if they’re okay, knowing what they’re doing, knowing if they’re leaving you for someone else, etc.

the list goes on. us borderlines post a lot of shit about bpd, and in my personal case, laughing it off and sharing it to others makes me feel a bit better and i know that it makes others feel less alone knowing that other people are doing the same horrendous shit. but stop romanticising being obsessive, quirky, impulsive, and having an attitude. it’s fucking painful. the emotional aspect is PHYSICALLY painful. watching the world crumble around us because most of us can’t fucking stop ourselves is painful. the withdrawals from substances, s/h, etc because we are so prone to addiction is PAINFUL. i’m all for supporting our fellow borderlines and cluster b peoples, but STOP self diagnosing to be “trendy”. i’m not on about self diagnosing, etc if you’re certain and it means you’re getting the support that you absolutely need. everyone is deserving of help, whether healthcare wants to agree or not, EVERYONE deserves the help they need. but stop trying to make bpd sound fun. being euphoric is fun, the rest of it IS NOT. ITS FUCKING PAINFUL. thank u bye 💕

(ps. i hate making rant posts about this, but seeing people act like bpd is a “fun choice” in life pisses me the fuck off, every day is just pure fucking suffering. the people romanticising and hyping this shit up are the same people who will talk shit about any cluster b who is showing symptoms or having one hell of an episode. but this NEEDS to be out there x)

#bpd #bpd fp #bpd feels #bpd culture is #bpd vent #actually bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd problems #bpd safe #fp bpd #psych is allergic to borderlines #bordahline pershonality dishorder #actually borderline #borderline pd #borderline personality disorder #borderline #borderline culture is #cluster b

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gayhoediaz · 1 day

Note

hello nie 👋

what is buck and tommy's first major argument about + how does it end 🎤

ohhhh jack this is such a good question!! ♡

i had to sit back and think a little bit, but what i came up with us that i think it would honestly just come down to both of them having a bad day and i think they deal with those in completely different ways. at this point, i think they have been together in a serious relationship for a decent amount of time - maybe six months or so? and i think they become very serious very quickly so six months is certainly long enough that they’re starting to feel more comfortable that the other person isn’t going anywhere, and you know how sometimes you lash out at the person you know is going to stay? yeah.

because of his childhood, i headcanon tommy as someone who finds solace in solitude, and while i think there are certainly times where he craves affection and company, i think it’s just as common that he just. needs to be alone. i think he knows that if he doesn’t get that alone time, his frustration is going to get directed at people who haven’t done anything to deserve it, and he’s certainly responsible enough to handle that and prevent it.

now, buck? buck is someone who we know to seek comfort in the people he loves. we have seen him go to eddie, to maddie, to hen, to bobby, and so on - he is just someone who needs to talk, and to feel embraced and listened to, and loved.

and tommy would absolutely be his first choice at this point - not only because he’s his boyfriend, but because tommy is tommy. he’s older, and he’s smart, and he’s kind, and he’s caring, and he always says what buck needs to hear. he never makes buck feel as if he’s too much, or too needy.

never.

until.

their awful, terrible, nightmarish days happen to fall on the same day.

i don’t think either of them are awful to each other, there’s absolutely no name calling, or cursing each other out, but they just kind of… clash. i think buck really wants to just go home and sit on the couch with tommy and watch a movie (love actually is just fine because he loves watching tommy watch it) and it’s not that tommy doesn’t want that, he just needs to be alone first.

and i think this would be perfectly fine if they communicated - but they don’t. i don’t think they have the energy to do that, so it just kind of ends up being a mess where buck misses him and wants him to come over, and feels a little blown off (i don’t think tommy ghosts him but maybe his texts are a little more chilly than they usually are) while tommy feels frustrated because - he’ll be there in a few hours, if evan can just calm down and leave him alone, he’ll be fine and he’ll hold him because he needs that too, but just. not right now. (again, i think tommy isn’t as cold as buck feels he is, and buck isn’t nearly as clingy as tommy feels, i think it’s just completely exaggerated in their own heads because they’re already upset for reasons that don’t have anything to do with each other.)

this is just the pre-argument, though. i think the real argument comes later, when tommy comes over to the loft (and at this point, he’s calmed down, he’s fine, he just wants to have a good night with his boyfriend and listen to him talk about his bad day, because now he’s been alone for a while so he has the energy to do so.) and he realizes that there is still friction between them - because here’s the thing:

we have only really seen tommy from buck’s pov this go-around, and that’s why he feels so… perfect? in a lot of ways? and again, i don’t think that buck is in any way upset that tommy couldn’t come over the second he needed him - he’s a grown man, he’s fine - but i think it’s the way that he felt tommy kind of blowing him off, and not communicating. i think it makes him feel annoyed and ignored (valid) and i think it kind of drags tommy down from this pedestal he has had him on?

in the end, i think tommy snaps and i think that’s exactly what he says - something along the lines of “i’m not perfect” etc etc. and i think they argue for a while, but they ultimately end up working things out that very night. i think tommy genuinely apologizes, and so does buck - i think buck reluctantly confesses that although he has grown a lot, and worked on himself, and become more confident, he does still ultimately have this fear of being too much, and i think tommy’s face just. softens, and he tells him that he never wants him to feel that way, and that he wasn’t and would never be annoyed with buck wanting or needing him around - it was just… everything else, and terrible timing, and bad communication. and then i think tommy explains some things about his childhood that helps buck understand why he may need to be alone sometimes, and how that’s how he finds comfort and makes peace with a bad day.

in the end, they ultimately know and understand each other so much better, and they make a vow to just. communicate. and they’re falling even deeper in love with each other.

#nie answers 💕#mutuals 🏷️#jack 🎑#niesmeta

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 2 days

Text

Wet and messy

So uh. I wrote this. It’s based on this post I made.

Rating: M

Word count: 1300

Tags: transmasc Phantom, spit kink (obviously), mentioned dumbification, possessive Swiss, slight degradation, cum eating, Phantom’s tits

———

“You little shit.”

Phantom doesn’t even get a moment to respond before he’s pressed up against the wall of the hotel room. Swiss is holding the front of his vest with a feral look in his eyes. Phantom can feel themself getting wetter, adding to the mess in their boxers.

“Well, what was I supposed to- mmmph!” Phantom is cut off by Swiss’s lips smashing into theirs. Their teeth knock together, glamours slipping as they both moan.

Swiss pulls back, grabbing Phantom’s jaw with one hand. They let out an involuntary whimper.

“Open.” Swiss squeezes the sides of Phantom’s jaw. He opens his mouth obediently, sticking out his tongue.

Swiss spits into their mouth, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips for a moment before it breaks. Phantom instinctively swallows it. Swiss grins with too many teeth.

“Good boy.” Swiss gives the smaller ghoul’s ass a squeeze before releasing him. “Strip and get on the bed.”

Phantom scurries to the bed, fingers undoing the clasps on their vest as they go. They have the thought to neatly lay their clothes on the chair in the corner (the “cuck chair”, Dew called it once, and Phantom’s never thought of it the same). The wardrobe techs would have their tail if they let their uniform get wrinkled or dirty.

He crawls onto the bed in just his boxers, lays back against the pillows, and opens his legs. The thin fabric of his boxers is soaked through and clinging to his cunt. They purr and play with their hardening nipples as Swiss strips his own clothes off.

“Fuck, bug.” Swiss growls, crawling onto the bed and towards Phantom. He reminds Phantom of a stalking lion, golden eyes intently focused on his prey. “You fucking tease. You know how much I wanted to pin you down on that stage and fuck you stupid in front of the crowd? Let them see how much of a slut you are?”

Phantom giggles and trills as Swiss cages him in with his strong arms. He’s in the lion’s claws now and he knows he’s not going to make it out without being completely ruined first. The thought makes their toes curl, fluffy paws curling inwards.

“So much. So fucking much. Open.” Swiss growls and Phantom obeys. Their hips roll against the air and they whine as they’re met with no friction whatsoever. Another glob of Swiss’s spit drops onto their tongue.

“Look at you, so fucking needy. Creaming through your boxers. I’d think you were in heat if I didn’t know better.” Swiss’s finger drags up the sensitive slit over the fabric and Phantom keens. Swiss holds up his finger, the tip covered in a pearly sheen.

“Is this all for me?” He teases and Phantom nods. Swiss smears the mess over Phantom’s kiss-swollen lips and smirks as they eagerly lick it off.

“Please,” Phantom whines, legs spreading wider. “Swissy, please.”

Swiss growls from his chest, a low rumble, and in a flash Phantom’s underwear is gone. They would have complained about Swiss tearing them, but any coherent thoughts leave their mind as Swiss’s thumbs spread the sensitive folds of their pussy.

“Satanas, you’re messy.” Swiss breathes. His cock twitches where it hangs heavy between his legs and Phantom purrs. “I love how creamy you get. Looks like there’s already a load in you.”

Phantom’s eyelids flutter. Swiss’s dirty talk is fucking divine. He’s on fire, every nerve alight with pleasure, and he loves it.

“Look at me, baby bat.” Swiss purrs and Phantom drags their eyes down to Swiss’s face. The multighoul grins and opens his mouth. A string of drool drips from his tongue directly onto Phantom’s sensitive little tdick.

The noise Phantom makes is downright sinful. His pussy clenches desperately around nothing, thighs trembling. “Swissy, need…” he whines.

“Need what, sweet thing? Use your words.” Swiss coos. The pad of his finger explores his clit, pushing back the hood to reveal the sensitive head.

“You… your cock, please, please, fuck me!” Phantom babbles, their mind dissolving into sparkles. They’re so empty it hurts and their clit is throbbing so hard.

“Desperate little thing.” Swiss chuckles. Phantom feels his weight shift on the bed and his thighs pressing their legs further apart. They whimper eagerly.

The tip of Swiss’s cock kisses their hole and Phantom gasps. It’s almost embarrassing how needy he is, but he knows Swiss loves it. They open their eyes just in time to see Swiss spit on their pussy again before he rolls his hips forward in one smooth movement.

Phantom can’t help it. He cums almost instantly as Swiss’s cock carves out its place inside him, nestling against his cervix. His pussy spasms, back arching off the bed. Swiss laughs.

“And I thought Dew was a minute man.” Swiss chuckles. Phantom paws at his arms, gripping his biceps for support. They’re so sensitive it hurts and they need more.

“Swissy…” Phantom whimpers. “Fuck me…”

Swiss growls, an animalistic sound, and Phantom knows he’s won. His eyes roll back as Swiss begins to fuck him, sloppy and rough.

“Fuck. Bug, you’re such- such a whore. Cumming just from me putting it in. Fuck- shit- yeah, baby bat, squeeze my cock.” Swiss’s words send shockwaves down Phantom’s spine. Something warm hits their chest and they choke out a moan, realizing it’s more spit. His hands release Swiss’s biceps and go to his chest, smearing the fluid over his small breasts.

“Fucking- yes, bug, play with your tits. Dirty fucking slut.” Swiss growls and spits again. It lands on Phantom’s collarbone and he quickly swipes it down to join the rest of the mess on his chest. He pinches his nipples and squeezes his tits together, the extra stimulation pushing him towards another orgasm.

“Swissy- fuck- ‘m gonna- so good-“ Phantom pants.

“You gonna cum again? Cream all over my dick like the messy slut you are?” Swiss growls. “Do it. Scream my name so everyone knows who owns your pussy.”

“Swiss- Swiss- ssss- wuh- haaah-“ Phantom pants. They’re too far gone to make sounds into words, but they somehow manage a sweet whimper of “Swissyyyyyy” before they tip over the edge.

Pure ecstasy. Burning, sparkling, tingling pleasure. Phantom hears loud cries and whimpers that they realize are coming from them. Swiss gives a few more thrusts and presses deep, then there’s a burst of warmth. Phantom bites their lip so hard it bleeds as aftershock after aftershock roll through them.

“-good, so so good, you’re amazing, feels so good, fuuuuck yeah squeeze that fucking cunt, milk me dry,” Swiss babbles into Phantom’s shoulder as he comes down from his own high.

Phantom is boneless, melting into the bed. He feels stuffed, full, warmed from the inside out, claimed, loved. He wraps his arms around Swiss and a loud purr kicks up in his chest. “Yes…” is all they can manage.

“Fuck, baby bat.” Swiss groans, nuzzling Phantom’s neck. The little Quint chirps. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

“Mhm.” Phantom mumbles. They suddenly have an idea that makes them clench again. “Hey. Idea.”

“Mhm?” Swiss mumbles.

“Feed it to me.” Phantom murmurs somewhat shyly. “Your load. Scoop it out of my pussy and feed it to me.”

“Fucking hell, yes.” Swiss groans. He pulls out, leaving Phantom empty, then pushes his fingers into them. Phantom whines as his fingers curl a few times then retract. When they reappear, they’re covered in dripping pearlescent goodness. Phantom takes them eagerly into his mouth and licks them clean. “Good boy. Clean up your mess.”

Phantom purrs, eyes rolling back. He loves this, feeling used and fucked-out like a cheap toy but also loved and spoiled. They whine as Swiss’s fingers dive into their oversensitive pussy again.

This was going to be a long night.

#listen that video of Swiss spitting on his mic stand got me feeling things #hgggggg anyway. Lots of fluids going on here.#I might write a piss thing in the future if anyone wants that fluid too #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #transmasc phantom #spit kink #wham writes #swisstom #swiss/phantom #phantom/swiss

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emmie-writes-stuff · 1 day

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So the new chapter is out and GOOD GOD do I have some thoughts and a lot of them don’t make a whole lot of sense but I can’t not talk about this chapter

Firstly, Kaiser looks adorable (never thought I’d say that about him outside of my head but here I am)

Secondly, holy hell my heart hurts

He didn’t deserve this, no child deserves this

The fact that he had to “go to work” and just steal

HE HAS NO SHOES his little feet have got to hurt, or they’ve completely calloused up from not wearing shoes, but even then (speaking from experience) it still hurts to walk on hot ground and rocks and other stuff on the street

Yknow, I understood him hating milk before (because milk is disgusting) but now I get it even more

What a stupid reason to get upset, imma kick this waste of space excuse for a father in the fucking face AND balls because ITS FUCKING MILK

Eat some damn fiber or somethin if you got constipation issues

Who let this absolute scum of the earth reproduce???

HES LITERALTL TWELVE YEARS OLD

All the other shit went down before he was even double digits

But dangerous situations create smart kids, and Kaiser was very smart to start saving his own money

I used to have my own stash in case I ever had to run away (long story, we’re not getting into my family issues in this post, but yeah)

At least he has shoes now, protect those feet plz, they’re what keep you upright and moving

Soooooooo are we gonna acknowledge that he treats the soccer ball the same way he’s currently treating Ness orrrrrrrr

But like, it’s nice that he has an outlet to channel his anger into that isn’t a person (at least for now smh)

It’s really interesting seeing how each of the characters came to play soccer

(Side note: but he throws the ball at a picture of a woman, could he maybe be imagining this woman as his mother?)

His mother also deserves a kick to the face if I have anything to say bout it

I have no words for this

Just, can I steal him? Please? I’ll give him a good life

Fuck the snitches, how dare they

Also, you can clearly see his ribs defined, and that hurts me

I love that he was willing to let go of everything

He was ready to start fresh with getting money, was cooperating with the police, until the soccer ball was threatened

Because that is his most valuable possession

The money doesn’t matter, but the ball is a symbol to him of something that won’t leave him or hurt him

It’s a very small sense of independence and stability in this very unstable and controlling environment

The ball is heavily implied to be the first thing he ever bought for himself, it’s what defined a key part in his life

Taking that away is like taking away his soul, his outlet, and comfort, and Kaiser just couldn’t stand for it

There’s so many more things I’m thinkin and I have way too many incoherent thoughts for tumblr, but these are the ones I was able to clear up and make sense of

This chapter hit very deep and while my past doesn’t involve much physical abuse and struggles to this level, it was hard not to empathize and relate my own experiences with abuse with the ones in this chapter

I don’t wanna get into shit, it’s not somethin I exactly wanna put out in the public, but there’s so much here that I could understand and relate to and it just made everything so much more difficult to read (in a good way I guess)

Just, GOD, why did I have to become a fan before this chapter came out???

Okay, that’s my ramble for this, bye before I start going on even more tangents

#bllk #blue lock #bllk manga spoilers #michael kaiser #bllk manga #emmie rambles #holy hell this was intense #I read this before work and had to be thinkin about it my whole shift #good god #the beef with Kaiser is gone #I’ve experienced character growth

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youcouldmakealife · 3 days

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SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; largesse (pt II)

For the prompt: Gabe and Stephen being sappy at SOME point

Follows this.

Early on, Gabe worries he’s wrong about his 'Stephen loves holidays' thesis: Easter’s during Passover that year, and neither of them do anything for it, unless you count Stephen buying a few bags of mini eggs from the drug store when they go on clearance after, and Gabe doesn’t. At this point mini eggs are entirely secular — they’re not even a seasonal thing. Gabe saw a Christmas edition of them a few months back, though he’s not sure how eggs are supposed to be involved in Christmas. Maybe another gift for Santa? Cookies and milk aren't a very well-balanced diet, some eggs can't hurt.

But then Mother’s Day arrives, and while Gabe orders his mom flowers, Stephen leans over him, sighing about needing to get his mom something, but not flowers, because his mom doesn’t like flowers, she always makes things difficult, why can’t she just like what everyone else does. This is the third straight day of their annual tradition of brainstorming what to get Anouk — twice annual tradition, actually, it comes up on her birthday too, and probably at Christmas, now that Gabe’s thinking about it, it’s just that Stephen worries about what to get everyone for Christmas, with the exception of Gabe and his parents, and that’s just because he worries about what to get them for Hannukah instead.

And then Father’s Day comes around, and Stephen goes through the exact same process for getting Johan a gift. Then Beth’s birthday, and that Stephen pretends not to care about at all, but then gets her and Anna tickets to a Taylor Swift concert in Toronto that summer, and Gabe’s pretty sure securing those involved either a sizeable amount of time, money, or both.

Gabe’s not proud to say it takes until Johan’s birthday in October to really click into place. Obviously he’s had some suspicions, or he wouldn’t have been observing Stephen’s demeanour so closely, but honestly, he does that as a matter of course — it’s easier than listening to what Stephen says about how he’s feeling, which is usually not true. And that’s if he’s even willing to talk about it, which isn't likely.

Once again, Stephen’s bitching about how hard it is to buy things for his dad, who is, admittedly, not an easy man to find gifts for, and Gabe finally sees right all the way through Stephen's ‘why is gift giving so frequent, it’s absurd’ speech to the fact that it’s honestly not hard to find a gift for someone if you don’t give a shit whether they like it.

Stephen apparently gives so many shits. Innumerable shits. So Gabe figures he can help him out a bit. Do some research, attempt to make a list.

“I doubt most of them are up to snuff, because, you know, Johan,” Gabe says, waving a hand in a way he’s concerned to notice is an accidental but dead on impression of his mother, “But maybe one or two of them will work.”

“Gabe,” Stephen says, looking up from the list.

“It’s nothing,” Gabe says. “Something to do on the road.”

“You printed it out,” Stephen says.

“Seemed easier,” Gabe says. “But I’ll email it to you as well.”

“And colour coordinated it,” Stephen says.

“It was a boring roadie,” Gabe says, though the end of it is kind of breathless, because Stephen’s crushing the air out of his lungs.

“Thank you,” Stephen mumbles, and Gabe brings a hand up to card through his hair.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

The packages start arriving two days later.

Gabe sighs, pushing aside two boxes with his foot so he can unlock the door, grabbing one under each arm to bring inside. One of them’s heavy for its size. Probably the knife set.

“Oh good,” Stephen says, looking up from his laptop as Gabe stacks the packages on top of all the other ones in the living room. “I was getting concerned that those weren’t coming.”

“Stephen,” Gabe says. “You can’t give your dad seventeen gifts for his birthday. He’ll just be disappointed every other year.”

And Gabe did say it was nothing, but that list took him two flights, three breakfasts, a dinner, and the recommendations of half the Canucks and most of the support staff, with dads receiving special consideration, to make.

“I can, however, not have to worry about what to get him for the next five years,” Stephen says gleefully.

Gabe sees trouble coming.

“I’m not making a list for everyone,” Gabe says.

“Gabe,” Stephen whines.

“No way,” Gabe says, taking this as a cue to retreat. “You’re on your own.”

“Gabe,” Stephen says, closing his laptop to trail him out of living room. “Please?”

The Canucks, unfortunately, are much less helpful when it comes to what to get middle-aged women. Gabe is disappointed but unsurprised.

“You lose a bet, Marksy?” Coach asks when Gabe brings the question to him. He’s married to one, which likely gives him an edge over the Canucks, who Gabe's learned are all a bunch of terrible sons. Well, other than Bullet. The majority of the ideas he does have on this list are just him trying to keep up with Bullet’s stream-of-consciousness.

“Something like that,” Gabe says, and adds his suggestion for a shawl. Sure, it’s already on the list, but it’s never smart to piss off the guy who controls how many minutes you get.

"My wife likes candles too," Coach says. "The ones that smell up the place."

Stephen can't stand scented candles, and Gabe's almost positive he got that from his mom, but Gabe adds it to the list anyway. It'd serve Stephen right to get a faulty list, and maybe he won't be forced to make one for Beth and Anna if he does a purposefully bad job.

Gabe waits until Coach is long gone, and then he makes sure to scribble those ideas out. Sure, he'll probably remember, and Stephen would probably notice even if he didn't, but, well.

May as well get Anouk something nice.

#fic snippet #SOTM #gabe markson #stephen petersen

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