a simple life (e.m.)
summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.
warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.
pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader
wc: 1.4k+
a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.
“Where did you even get this postcard?”
“Eddie.”
“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”
Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours.
“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you.
“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him.
“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”
His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?”
“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.”
“What if I say please?”
You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour.
He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?”
“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.
You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties.
“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”
“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile.
He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”
His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you.
Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for.
It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it.
“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.”
“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.”
You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care.
“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.”
“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”
“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”
“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips.
Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in.
“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.”
Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you.
You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you.
You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?”
With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”
You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you.
A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.
The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you.
“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
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In Judaism, one alternative way of referring to converts is "Jews by Choice."
If a parallel term exists in Xtianity I am not aware of it, but I would like to propose that it really should exist, albeit not just in reference to converts but to all Xtians. Every Xtian should get the opportunity to fully understand their faith in context and to make an informed decision to choose it for themselves. As it stands, many Xtians are deeply ignorant about Jewish history (before and after the formation of Xtianity), the original cultural context for the stories in the Old Testament, the cultural Jewish context that Jesus existed and taught in, the critical historical (scholarly) read of these texts, what they probably meant to the Israelites who produced them, and what they mean to Jews today and how we read these same texts differently in our religious context.
This creates a problem, where Xtians are taught only the narrow band of context that their church deems it important for them to know, and even that is frequently inaccurate or so limited in scope as to make it inaccurate by omission.
And this is because the reality is that the Tanakh (that is, the Hebrew and Aramaic scriptures that the Old Testament is based on) does not naturally or inevitably lead to the Jesus narrative. If you are starting from a Xtian perspective, and especially if you read the New Testament first and then and only then dive into the Old Testament, the Jesus narrative is obvious to you because you are looking for it, expect to see it there, and are coming at these texts with that reading lens in mind. And it's not that you or anyone else is nuts to see that narrative there - there are plenty of solid Xtian reads of these texts that make sense if you already believe in Jesus as presented by the New Testament.
But what the vast majority of Xtians aren't taught is how to approach the Tanakh from a Jesus-neutral perspective, which would yield very different results.
Now you might fairly ask, why would they *need* to approach the Tanakh with a Jesus-neutral perspective? They're Xtians! Xtians believe in Jesus, that's what makes them Xtians!
My answer is multi-pronged: First, I believe that G-d wants a relationship with all people, and speaks to us in the voice we are most likely to hear. That's inherently going to look different for everyone. And that's okay! G-d is infinite, and each of our relationships with G-d are going to only capture the tiniest glimpse into that infinite Divine. Therefore, second, when approaching religion, everyone sees what they want to see. If you nothing religion but find your spirituality in nature, you're going to come at these biblical texts with that lens and take away from them similar things that one might take away from other cultural mythologies. If you, like me, are coming at these texts with a Jewish mindset, you are going to come away with a portrait of Hashem and our covenantal relationship as Am Yisrael. And, of course, if you read with a Xtian lens, you're going to see the precursor narratives leading up to Jesus. That reading bias is not only understandable but good or at least deeply human. Everyone sees what they want to see in these texts. There is no objective or flawless way to read them, and to claim that there is, is to claim that not only is there only one answer, but only one kind of relationship that G-d wants to have with people, that you personally happen to know what that is, and that everyone else is wrong. I am sorry, but if you believe that - if you truly think that you in particular (and/or the people you happen to agree with) know the mind of G-d, then you do not worship G-d. You worship yourselves, because to know the entirety of G-d would require you to be G-d. There's a term for that. That doesn't mean there aren't wrong answers too. But it does mean that there is no singular unimpeachable reading of the texts. What you see in these texts then, says far more about you than it does about the texts themselves or G-d.
So the question then becomes: Why do you want to see this? (Whatever your "this" is.) If your read of these texts is something you choose, why do you choose to see what you see? And is it a meaningful choice if you are not taught other ways of knowing, other perspectives on these texts, and to think critically while exploring them?
Judaism inherently teaches a multiplicity of opinions on the texts, and maintains that they can be read to mean different things, even at the same time by the same person. Deep textual knowledge and methods for learning more, asking questions, challenging accepted answers as a way to discover new meaning, and respectful disagreement are baked into our culture and methods. Some Xtians of some denominations have analogous processes, although on the whole still emphasize correct unified belief over correct action with a multiplicity of belief. I am not suggesting here that Xtians stop approaching their own scriptures as Xtians or adopt Jewish methods instead. What I am suggesting is that Xtians should be taught a fuller picture of these texts and learn other perspectives so that they (1) understand their own beliefs and why they believe them (or after further inquiry if they believe them), and (2) understand and respect that this is what they are choosing to believe and that it is not the only thing one could reasonably believe. Because (3) if not, they are more susceptible to having their faith shattered at random by something unexpected, and will connect less to their faith as a relationship with G-d and more as an obligation based on an unchallenged world view.
And, frankly? (4) It will help them to be better neighbors, to love their neighbor as themselves, and to give to others the respect that they would like to receive.
Being taught the historical context, Jewish history before and after Jesus, the differences between the Old Testament and the Tanakh, the timeline of the development of Xtianity in relationship to rabbinic Judaism in the wake of the destruction of the Second Temple, the development of church doctrine and the various splits amongst the denominations, and Jewish readings of the Tanakh would give clarity and desperately needed context to Xtians about their religion. Is there some risk that some people, upon understanding these things would drop out of faith entirely or, like me, discover that they are actually meant to be Jews? Yes, definitely.
But let me let you in on a little secret: you don't want those people to begin with. You really don't. Because the reality is that if a person is not called to relate to G-d through Jesus, eventually that person will learn this about themselves one way or another. If they are given the information and tools to make a meaningful choice, they will part company on good terms. If not, they will likely become disillusioned and leave the church in pain, anger, and even trauma. They will bring that out into the world with them, and spread the bad news about the Good News making it even more likely that other people who were already on the fence will jump ship on bad terms. You cannot trick people into a meaningful relationship with G-d. You can only give them the tools they need in order to explore on their own and the rest is between them and G-d.
And the bottom line is that you don't need to and should not be afraid of knowledge. If your faith cannot stand up to scrutiny, then it deserves that scrutiny tenfold. The people you lose from the flock? You would have lost them anyway, because we aren't in the driver's seat here. G-d is. Hashem called me to be a Jew with just as much love and desire to connect as G-d calls Xtians to the church and to Jesus. A faith examined is a faith deepened or exposed in its weakness. And if it is the latter, don't you want people to know this sooner rather than later in order to fix it?
So my proposition and wish for Xtians is that they become Xtians by Choice. That they delve deeply into the origins and context of their faith so that they can be 100% certain that they understand their Xtian faith and why they choose to relate to G-d through that lens.
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here are my thoughts on a poly ship with ghost+soap and how it would begin because our heating still isnt on and it’s too cold for me to do anything productive right now
Ghost and soap began before you. You’re a newer addition to the 141 meanwhile these men have years of trauma, camaraderie, and connection that has led to a mutual relationship that has been going on for quite some time.
Ghost doesn’t like labels. He and Soap have been together for years, will share a bed and fuck like mad before going down to the pub together to watch a game but he doesn’t call him his boyfriend or partner because he still is skittish about saying it out-loud as if it would cause something horrible to happen to Johnny.
the classic “can’t say i love you x the person who says the soft “I know, its alright”
Ghost is the jealous and possessive type pre-relationship when it comes to other people flirting with Soap. He gets quiet and brooding and more content to push johnny away to protect his own feelings. Once they’re in a relationship he’ll just make a dry joke about how “somebody’s popular” before fucking him stupid that same night because he doesn’t care how many people laugh at his jokes and squeeze his bicep with a lack of subtlety. He’s Simon's and Simon's alone.
Of course, until you.
Johnny takes to you quickly. You're smart, good in a fight and you laugh at his jokes, it’s a clear shot to friendship from their.
He’s the mediator between the two of you, the one that sort of bridges you to Simon who is more content to be silent around you until after going through several missions with the task force you find yourself melding into the group with ease.
Simon of course, is old enough and smart enough to see Johnny’s attraction to you. He’ll bump shoulders with you in a quiet moment with that little smile, taunt you on the mat during sparring sessions that he leaves just a bit too winded to be normal.
It’s nothing more than a crush, really. You’re attractive and strong. He gets it.
Doesn’t mean he likes it. But it’s not something Soap would ever act upon so he lets it be.
Soap will make a light joke at it when they're together, that “you’ve got nothing to worry about, old man. I’m not switching you out for another pretty face anytime soon.”
Because even Simon could admit that yeah, you were easy on the eyes and good at your job.
However there would have to be a big event to make Ghost go “okay, yeah, I’m attracted to you.”
Rescuing one of them in an ambush, keeping them alive in a vital moment while putting your own life at risk for one of them in a way that is incredibly stupid and as a Lieutenant, he would rip you a new one for when the dust settles and wounds are tended to.
But after, he’d go back to his room and think of you until he fell asleep.
Soap sees it in his partner’s eyes a month later. You and Ghost had been sparring late at night, both battling our own demons that wouldn’t let your sleep.
Quickly, using your own size as an advantage you were able to get him to the floor and trap him in a leg lock.
Now, Simon is twice your size and easily a hefty 220 pounds. He could have simply stood up and slammed you back into the floor until you fell limp on the ground.
But he lays beneath you, large hands gripping the muscle of your thighs as you tighten your grip on his neck, eyes almost falling into a dark haze before he quickly taps against your calf and you release.
John Mctavish had his suspicions before, but know its clear as day to him of his partner’s desire for you.
And knowing Simon, he’s going to have to be the one to take the first step for them both.
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