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#ed writing
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The Chilly Crisp Air of September
first ana/mia imagine, let me know if you want more! Open to requests, this one is a personal one
You take a deep breath in. Another one, two, three. It's so cold, it almost hurts to breath. Smoke lingers on your lips, as one hand wraps your favorite sweater (the sage green one with the hood that your grandmother crocheted for you, since you're always so cold) tightly around your torso. A steaming cup of earl grey is in your left hand. These sorts of days, the grey, dreary, rainy fall days, are the days you feel most content. You blend into the background, just enough.
Last year, things were so different. You had gained all the weight back that you had worked so damn hard to get rid of. You ate and ate and ate. You slept and slept and slept. You didn't feel beautiful, much less human. Your heart was so full, yet so empty. No one looked at you anymore. Now, the work has paid off, but in the form of your shaking bones rattling in the wind, the purple circles under your eyes show dedication. You feel deadly. The way you like feeling, the feeling you missed most. You're starting to scare people again, fitting for the haunting atmosphere of the Autumn air.
Your black boots crunch the dead leaves, as you take your morning walk. You take it all in, the smell of the storm coming in from the distance, the New England orchards rife with apples, chimneys puffing out the first fires of the year, the sounds of a deer walking gently in the woods, coexisting with your ghost. Your fingers wrap around another cigarette. You take a drag in. You feel whole again. Full again, and this time, not in a horrifying way. Your green eyes big and doe-eyed, sleepy. Your sweater swallowing you whole. Your wool socks eating your feet and ankles. Your pants aren't enough to keep you warm anymore. And you missed it. You missed it so much.
You hope people don't notice for awhile, so you can savor this moment again. Welcome back, September.
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littlefirefly42 · 2 years
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I struggle to eat sometimes, and often when I am presented with a meal that I know I have to eat at least some of, my brain sorts the food into two groups. "Safe food" and "unsafe food". Safe food is the food I can eat with the least amount of fear. I'm writing an ED story right now, so I was wondering if anyone else had safe foods they wanted to share.
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hansoeii · 7 months
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Do you think of me?
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i'm unwell!!! because in stede's eyes, ned low was right!! ned says "he [ed] only likes you because of your bumbling amateur status" and calls stede blackbeard's "pet" just like izzy did in series 1
so stede steps up as a captain, kills the man who harmed his crew, and suddenly, for once in stede's life, he isn't a joke! the gentleman pirate is taken seriously and welcomed into the pirate community!
and what happens less than 24 hours later? ed calls their night together a mistake, AND LEAVES.
yes, obviously the situation is more nuanced, and these old men are once again struggling to communicate, but i 100% understand why stede went a bit of the rails at the end of episode 7. stede's been so focused on trying to help ed, that he's completely ignored his own ongoing identity crisis and trauma, and after the incident at the academy in series 1, this meltdown was long overdue.
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crippledpunks · 6 months
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shoutout to every person who deals with incontinence. i dealt with bedwetting up until my early teens, and now deal with stress and urge incontinence and for years never wanted to talk about it because of the shame and stigma other people place on not being able to control your bladder or bowel movements.
incontinence is a disability. it's not gross or wrong to talk about incontinence. incontinent people are not dirty or disgusting. if we could control these parts of our body, we would. we're not an inconvenience for being this way, and we don't have to be treated like a burden or like we need to be "fixed".
whether or not you use incontinent products like briefs, pads, diapers, plastic bed sheets, or whatever else, you are loved, important, and deserved to be seen when there are conversations about disability awareness and acceptance. we don't deserve to hide in shame when all we need is to be accommodated and accepted.
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bonchobrick · 11 months
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So I’ve seen some posts going around about a ‘Bruce adopts Danny and everyone thinks they’ll finally have a normal family member—Danny is very not normal’ and here’s my late night take on it.
Or
Danny batfam au where they batfam tries really hard to keep their vigilante ass-kicking nightlife a secret from danny because he is ‘the only normal one in the family’ this becomes a problem however when danny gets kidnapped.
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The batfam all work together in a deeply serious family meeting to save their boy. After hours of combining their brains together they come up with a plan that will effectively save danny from joker, kick joker’s ass, and also make them look really cool while doing it.
So they bust in that warehouse, guns blazing, explosions fading in the background, a gust of dramatic dust covers the air
Batman steps infront of the rest of the team and demands to the blurry figure somewhere in the distance, “Where is Danny!”
The dust clears–they expect bad guys pointing weapons meancingly at them, they expect a cackle of a wicked clown amused at whatever plot he had planned coming to life, they expected a terrified boy perhaps tied somewhere likely siting in a chair that joker could present to the bats as a way of taunting them.
The dust settles–they observed their surroundings looking around and realize that, there are few new facts to be added into this ‘defeat the villain, get the bro, happy ending equation’
There is decidedly no weapons being pointed at them: In fact, all of the henchmen are already knocked out and tied up.
There is decidedly no evil laughs being echoed their way: In fact, the only noise that isnt coming from them is a light scritch scratch of a pencil
And there is decidedly no terrified little boy, there is a Danny however and he seems to be doing alright–actually scratch that.
Danny is doing wonders for the situation he’s in right now: In fact–
–Danny is sitting criss cross applesauce on-top a knocked out tied up Joker doing his algebra homework
The small blue eyed boy looks up at Batman's voice and visibly brightens, “Oh hey guys, I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Jason says with the utmost of comprehension, “...what.”
“So hi, I’m kinda new to gotham so sorry about beating these guys up, I think they’re villains? I dunno, anyways if you could take care of these guys while I call an uber home that’d be great.”
Danny sends them a blinding smile which would've been adorable if there weren’t a massive pile of bodies he were casually walking away from.
As Danny nears the exit he looks over his shoulder to the baffled group of vigilantes and blinks
“Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Could you guys not tell the Waynes about this.”
Damian speaks up for the rest of his frozen family, albeit hesitantly, “I do think they have already been alerted of your kidnapping.”
“Oh no that's fine.” Danny starts nervously, “It's more about me being the… fighter… in this situation. I was just adopted by them and they seem really nice, I don’t want to scare them away being all grrrr im a scary monster boy and i love to hurt people argh.”
“I don’t think they’d think you're a monster.” Tim adds quietly
“Eh, tell that to my birth parents–they went psycho on me. Like evil scientist psycho, it was not as awesome as the movies make it sound, having scientists for parents.” Danny says bittersweet as he admits with a shrug
There is a moment of silence as the batfamily reevaluate the adoption file that states Danny’s family before they passed were very good people–albeit a bit excentric.
Dick blurts out, “Where did you learn to fight?”
Danny sends him an anxious chuckle, “I actually started when I was fourteen–my town always ran into some trouble so I had to step up. It’s part of the reason I moved here actually. I really don’t want anything to do with that hero vigilante life anymore…” The boy puts his hands together in a pleading motion, “So please don’t tell The Waynes!”
Bewildered at the situation as a whole they nod in a daze
The boys eyes widen at their easy agreement and he grins, “Thank you so so much! I’ve got to go now, it’s way past my curfew. but you’ll probably see me again next time I get kidnapped–I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you guys with my family bye!”
And just like that Danny slips off into the night leaving behind a family who were so sure they finally found a normal addition to their pack.
Jason sighs looking forlornly at the spot Danny had previously been standing, “You could just never pick the just semi-mentally healthy normal kids could you?”
Bruce groans pinching his the bridge of his nose
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bruisedboys · 1 year
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can I request the first time shy!reader spends the night at eddie’s? maybe she falls asleep during movie night and he just doesn’t have the heart to wake her up? lots of snuggles ensue?!
ohmygosh thank you so much for this adorable req I love u so much. hope this is what u wanted angel!
shy!fem!reader 1.3k words
Eddie comes back from the bathroom and into the living room, only to stop dead in the doorway.
You’ve fallen asleep. On his couch. Well, technically his and Wayne’s, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you’re fast asleep and you look so lovely and peaceful and Eddie actually had to grab the doorframe to stop himself from falling over.
To be trusted so much that you’ve allowed yourself to fall asleep at his place feels like a big step to Eddie. You’re a shy girl, always cautious, overly polite. Eddie remembers the first time you’d been over to his trailer, you were so quiet, so scared of doing or saying something wrong.
And now look at you.
Eddie feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He practically skips the rest of the way to the couch, desperate to be close to you again, a newfound fondness for you burning in his chest that can only be cured by sitting as close as humanly possible to you. He sits down in the space he’d left, his thigh pressed to yours. Your body has tipped away from him, your head resting on a stack of cushions balanced on the arm of the couch.
The credits of the movie you’d been watching with him play on, but Eddie’s too busy looking at you, drinking up every inch of you. Your face, squished into the cushion, the TV light painting you green and red and blue. Your t-shirt sleeve riding up your shoulder. Eddie imagines your skin is as warm and soft as it looks. He longs to touch you and has an excuse when the movie ends. He knows you’ll want to be woken up.
His hand finds your shoulder and his fingers slip beneath your sleeve.
“Y/N, sweetheart.” Eddie squeezes you gently, his thumb pressed to your shoulder. “Wake up.”
It doesn’t take much for you to wake. Soon you’re blinking awake slowly, tearing your tired eyes apart, and it’s maybe the cutest thing you’ve done ever. Eddie feels so much fondness for you it actually hurts.
“Hey,” he says gently. He shuffles closer so he can get his torso in front of yours, hoping to block the TV lights that he’ll know will be blinding for you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep.”
You blink at him. “I did?” You ask, all raspy and sleepy.
Eddie chuckles and resists the urge to kiss you all over your cute face. “Yeah, you did. Was I boring you?”
Your expression goes from sleepy to mortified so quickly it’s alarming.
“No!” You say quickly, shaking your head. “No, I—“
Eddie’s laugh drowns out the rest of your words, and you stop fretting when you realise he’s teasing.
“I’m messing with you, sweet girl.” He slides his hand up to your collar and presses his thumb to the corner of your mouth. “You must’ve been tired, huh?”
A yawn takes over your features right on queue. Your eyes scrunch up and your mouth opens wide and Eddie can’t stop smiling. You’re so cute.
“Do you want me to take you home?” Eddie asks, his hand still pressed to your face. He’s secretly hoping you’ll say no. He’d like you to stay here forever, thank you very much. “Or … you could stay the night here? Only if you want, of course.”
You blink up at Eddie owlishly. He’s never asked you to stay the night. Never suggested it, because he’s afraid of scaring you off. He’s afraid now, waiting for your answer, that you’ll run away and never come back. But you smile. You smile, and his heart does a backflip.
“Um. Okay,” you say, quiet and unsure but that sweet smile stays put. “I think I’ll stay, if that’s okay with you.”
Eddie melts like a popsicle. He brings his other hand to your jaw and cups your pretty, sleepy face.
“Of course it’s okay, angel,” he says, soft and earnest all at once. His chest feels tight. “You can stay whenever you like, you know.”
Your smile grows. Eddie’s heart aches tenfold. “I know.”
Eddie nods. He’s feeling so much for you in this moment that it’s hard to do anything, let alone speak. Instead he pulls away from you, stands up and holds his hand out. You take it unabashedly.
“Come on then,” he says, finally finding his words as he pulls you up to stand. “I’ll find you some pyjamas, hm?”
Ten minutes later Eddie comes back from the shower and finds you in his bed, dressed in a pair of his red and black checkered pyjama pants and one of his shirts. Your eyes are half closed.
You look so lovely that Eddie feels, for the second time tonight, like he’s been punched in the stomach. His breath hitches and his heart goes haywire.
“Hi,” he says softly, dropping the towel he’d been scrubbing his hair with over the back of his desk chair. “You okay?”
You nod. “M’okay,” you mumble quietly. “Just tired.”
Eddie rounds his bed til he’s on the side you’re on, kneeling next to the bed so he can take your bicep in his hand, his palm kneading at the soft muscle. You look seconds away from falling asleep.
“Poor girl,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. Then, to you, “Do you want me to sleep on the couch? ‘Cos I will, if you’re not comfortable with us both sleeping in the bed.”
You wrench your eyes open and quit looking tired to instead look confused and mildly put out.
“What?” You ask, exhaustion tugging at your words and making them sluggish and slurred. “No, don’t sleep on the couch.”
Eddie grins like mad. He squeezes your bicep, his fingers pushing beneath your t-shirt sleeve. “You want me to sleep in the bed? With you?”
You shut you eyes again and nod into your pillow. Eddie can’t stop smiling.
“Okay, then.”
He gives your arm one last squeeze and then leaps up to switch the light off. The room gets swallowed by darkness. Eddie can just make out your figure where you’re lying in his bed, the bump of your hip, the curve of your legs.
He slides into bed next to you and it feels like it’s never felt before. Even though it’s his same, regular old bed that he sleeps in every night, nothing about this is regular. Nothing about this doesn’t make his heart race and his skin tingle and his stomach ache with fondness sweet as sugar.
He shuffles closer to you and his arm touches your arm.
“Are you okay?” He asks you. You’re awfully quiet. Well, quieter than usual. He knows it’s because you’re tired, and maybe because this whole thing is probably making you about as nervous as it’s making him, if not more.
You don’t answer but you do press your arm further into Eddie’s. He curls his pinky around yours in the dark.
“Are you nervous?” He whispers, staring at the dark roof, feeling quite a bit nervous himself.
He feels rather than hears you rolling over, and when he tears his eyes away from the roof to look at you, he sees you’ve rolled onto your side to look at him.
“A bit,” you whisper back. Your pinky hooks tighter around his.
“Me too,” Eddie admits. “I’ve never had a girl sleep over before.”
You make a sound that Eddie thinks is a tired, quiet laugh. He can hear your smile when you say, “Really?”
Eddie nods though you probably can’t see him. He slides closer and takes your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. You’re so close you could lay your head on his chest if you wanted. He hopes you will eventually.
“Yeah, really,” he says. He dips his head to kiss your forehead. “Get some sleep now, okay?”
You hum something incoherent. You’re asleep within the next minute, your head lolling onto Eddie’s shoulder within the next two.
Eddie lies awake for far longer, wondering how in the world he got this damn lucky.
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dumplingsjinson · 5 months
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List of “when your partner is a romantically constipated idiot (please forgive them, they just don’t know how to express their affections properly)” prompts
“I hate you,” Character A murmurs, playfully slapping Character B on the arm. “It’s your fault I’m like this right now.” 
“I love you.” “…Are you drunk?” 
“I miss you so much, and I really miss cuddling with you.” “Hm… You know, I’m starting to think cuddles are a necessity for you.” 
Calling their partner “My guy” or “My dude” or “Brother” or “Mate” or “Buddy” or “Asshole” romantically while calling them “Sweetie/sweetheart” or “my love” sarcastically. (So I genuinely think I might have problems welkfnewklfn) 
“You’re so cute.” “…You keep saying that. I am not cute. You’re the only one who thinks I’m cute. You’re weird for that.” 
Telling their friends and the internet and anyone who would listen that they like their partner so much… Everyone except their partner. 
Not knowing how to respond when their partner is being affectionate with them, or when they call them cute nicknames/pet names.
“I will puke if I start calling you pet names. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you, though.” 
“You staring at me like that makes me want to wither away and die.” “What? Why?” “Because it makes me super fucking nervous!” 
“I really like you.” “…Um. Cool. Thanks?”
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spirker · 20 days
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Remember this is how Ed was looking at his boyfriend when we last saw him.
They are together and they are so in love.
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The things you create don’t have to make sense! They can be messy and wild! They can be confusing and strange! They can be ugly and weird! Stop tethering your sense of creativity to what other people will accept. You deserve to create without inhibition.
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anamia imagine, open for requests. Another personal one.
It is October, and things feel better again; whole again. You no longer spend your days crying at the toilet, throwing out your entire refrigerator, grabbing at the mounds of fat on your stomach and thighs and arms. You no longer struggle with the idea of taking in nothing, but putting out everything. You no longer cringe at the idea of not eating for an entire day. And it has paid off.
It's your birthday. You're turning 24, and you've been at this goal since you were 12. Looking into the mirror, that girl that stares back is almost unrecognizable, but she is beautiful. She is everything you have always wanted to be. And you are her, now. It's time to stop staring at yourself, you've got things to do, an entire day to get ready for. You rush through your dresser, pulling out the day's outfit. A baggy old purple crocheted sweater. The sheer, long-sleeved black dress (that you never thought you'd actually fit into.) Patterned tights. Black wool socks. Platform docs. The delicate gold necklaces he bought you. Long, pale fingers covered in rings. You brush your teeth. Taking a few minutes, you gently clip back your hair- it's gotten so long. Longer than it's ever been. Glossed lips. Simple. Natural. You're ready.
You walk out of the room, and he's sitting there, already ready to go. Always early. His smile is goofy, and widens when he looks at you. Love. His eyes are full of love. The adoration you had never received when you were still fat. He stands up, comes towards you, and picks you up- so effortlessly. You are no longer embarrassed to be lifted up. Kisses. One, two, three. You feel like you finally deserve this. All that hard work, he deserves a beautiful girlfriend.
"You ready to go?" He asks.
I might write a part two.
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dykedarling · 7 months
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literally my first thought
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pippintookish · 5 months
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Dear Ed,
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thoughtkick · 5 months
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You can’t betray yourself too often, or you become somebody else.
Ed Harris
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royalarchivist · 11 months
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Everyone this week: *lore, conspiracy theories, long conversations with Cucurucho, multiple attempts to summon the Binary Monster*
Spreen when lore:
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crippledpunks · 27 days
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chronic fatigue is such a bitch because it's not super obvious at first. it creeps up on you some days, but other days, that's just the entire day. you start your day exhausted as hell, and like yeah, you're aware that you're tired, but you blame yourself for feeling this way. it's always your fault somehow. then comes the end of the day and you realize that it was your chronic fatigue, and you blame yourself for beating yourself up all day long. you can't win
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