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candied-cae · 1 year

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And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Please, Be Gentle with My Breaks - II

Chapter 17/? - - - Read it on AO3

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Word Count: 7,561

Summary: There's a difference between being broken and having a few breaks. But a lot of these kids and been dealt a lot of blows, and not just from physical monsters of the Upside Down. There's still a lot of stuff hidden just under the surface that they haven't been able to show just yet.

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The next morning, everyone in Hellfire had stopped by the hospital for a visit.

It was a very busy room that Thursday. And the nurses warned the whole slew of them to take it easy on him. Eddie might’ve been on the mend, but he was supposed to destress and let his body take care of itself while it began to cover over wounds with scabs to one day become scars.

That’d been an idea to wrap his head around.

Scars. Big ones.

Not just little lines of them from scrapes or spots from embers or other sorts of accidents. But real, big scars. The kind that showed a war had ravaged his body, or something like one. Which was the easiest way to imagine what he’s been through anyway. So, big scars were in store for him. Acted less like something small to point out and tell the story of; and more like a bold accessory - more similar to his own tattoos, more obvious, in that regard - but ones he couldn't really tell the truth about.

However, the gang gathering around him was a welcome distraction to the thought of his flesh trying to piece itself together and with baby fresh skin. With the wrong color and texture compared to the rest of it.

Dustin showed up with a small box of things he’d effectively stolen from the Munson trailer that morning. A couple tapes he grabbed, a player with headphones, a tattered blanket from the floor of his bedroom, a couple books, and his D&D notebook. A few general things Wayne recommended would help Eddie survive all the time spent in the sickbed until he was sent on his way home.

Lucas had wandered in with a similar assortment of wares for Max. A blanket off her own bed, studio pictures she’d taken with El, some of her comic books, and he brought in a stuffed tiger she won and gave to him last summer. She joked that it was going to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't go messing around with monsters again. Maybe it could watch out for her this time. They were all things that he knew had no real way of making her wake up sooner but even so, he secretly hoped they might help. Somehow.

Mike started making jokes about bringing over some bean bag chairs from his basement to make the hospital room more welcoming to guests. Bruce readily agreed that the stiff, small chairs provided were really no way to treat the people coming by the entertain him. Dustin pulled out a bag of chips from under the blanket and said they should all bring in snacks if they were really going to hold a one-shot there and make themselves at home. Eddie quickly made grabby hands at him and demanded to be given some first as the oldest and hurtest among them.

He also added that if they wanted to treat him, they could’ve snuck him the metal lunchbox that he usually deals out of. Let Eddie make himself a roll, or two, while he was in medical lockdown. That’d really relax him and make him feel at home more than some nicknacks or an old rag. He did pause a second to tell Erica she wasn't allowed to do any drugs until she was a grown-up, though. Before Jeff decided to be the one to tease him and ask if he really thought getting busted for smoking pot in a hospital right after he avoided a murder charge was the best idea.

They’d all started casting in suggestions for the kind of campaign they’d wanna do if Eddie was gonna write the whole thing up himself. Some wanted more puzzle aspects with things to figure out and solve. A few wanted more NPCs to interact with that weren’t just for hiring, fighting, or dying. A side comment was made about maybe not loading the battlefield so much that everyone dies as a way to close the session, they all laughed at that. Eddie swore he wouldn’t take it easy on them.

“What’s the point of fighting if you know you’ll win?” he’d asked.

“Actually getting back to the tavern to brag about it for once. Getting to say I settled down with the pretty barmaid when the adventuring day was done. Maybe.” Gareth argued back.

Josie looked at him doubtfully and asked Gareth how sure he was any character of his stood a chance with a woman, fictional or otherwise.

They all started barking laughs after that. More friendly insults flew around the room, the ones they've all already said a dozen times to each other and knew didn't hit any soft spots. Just the kind to rile them up, earn a few pointed glares and spur the next round of hits.

All the Hellfire members had a good dose of fun during their visit. But after a couple hours, Eddie started feeling pretty worn out. The guests all excused themselves and made sure everyone made it home while Eddie got started re-reading The Hobbit, since Henderson thought to include that in his care package. The familiar lines lulled him into a comfortable nap tucked in under his own blanket pretty easily. The items from home made the sterile room feel a little bit less alien. He didn't even get fifty pages into it - the company hadn't even reached the elves of Rivendell - before his eyelids were heavy. Soon he was putting the book back on the table and rolling his head away from the sunlit window to catch a few z's. But when he woke back up again, it wasn’t to an empty hospital room that felt a little too big.

Steve was back again. He’d been sitting in the chair with pursed lips. Slightly lost in thought while his fingers picked at the pages of the stack of books on the bedside table.

And he figured this was technically the third time he’s woken up with Steve Harrington by his side. Including the CPR incident, of course. As much as he was trying not to think about it. For his own sanity. Of course.

“Don’t get a paper cut,” Eddie cautioned as he pushed himself to sit up in the bed.

Steve startled slightly. Yanking back his hand with a finch, eyes snapping to Eddie before he shook his head. “No need to scare a guy…” he muttered under his breath.

“What? I was just watching out for you. Unless you were looking to steal a sleeping man’s literature, then I’d have to gut you. For the honor of my beloved books, you know.”

“Was just stopping by to pass along a message - a few of ‘em - on my way to the store.”

“Alright then, proceed.” Eddie nodded.

Steve began to count off the many points on his fingers,“ Well, firstly, Claudia wanted to ask if you had any allergies - I think she wants to bake you a fruit pie. If you had any preferences. But then Dustin said you were snoozing, so it’d probably be easier to ask your uncle. So he said you don’t really like pies, then he thought that you’d probably want new clothes until you get out of here. Since the old stuff is gross and ripped up now, and those hospital gowns really suck. But he was about to head off to work, so I said I could run some over.” Steve nudged a grocery bag by his foot at the mention,” And El wondered if you had a trick that grew your hair out long. If there was anything that worked fast. But I think Erica said her mom knew something she’d make for her, so I guess that’s taken care of. Oh! And your uncle wanted the keys to your van so he could check it over? Said you had a long drive coming up he wanted to make sure it’d handle okay.”

“Okay, wow- tell everyone to chill out about me, would ya? Alrighty, so… no major allergies, but yeah, fruit pies aren’t really my jam. But that’s usually because Wayne makes ‘em, and I think he skims when he reads dessert recipes so they all come out mushy. But Lady Henderson could probably make an apple that doesn’t rot in the Munson family refrigerator.” Eddie snickered to himself.

“I’ll pass that along.”

Eddie swung his legs over the side of the thin mattress, and dug a hand into the plastic hospital tote he’d been handed back, rooting around his belongings,“ And I’ll gladly trade you my keys for some clothes since you’re the little postal boy running my deliveries today.”

Steve passed over the bag he’d brought and pocketed the key ring while Eddie giddily broke for the bathroom. Dropping comments about wearing something that didn’t leave his ass hanging out as he slipped behind the heavy door. He was happily greeted by the sight of an Ozzy tee with bleach stains at the top of the bag. He’d nabbed it from a thrift shop in Indy a while back since he still hadn't been able to buy merchandise from a show himself. A little nod from Wayne about the tickets he and the other Corroded Coffin members had saved up for and been waiting to go to for months now. And now the affair was almost in reach, and he nearly missed it bleeding out in another world.

But instead, he tugged the shirt on along with a pair of loose pajama pants, already feeling worlds more comfortable than he had in a while. Alive and breathing. With exciting plans so close he could almost hear the buzz of the speaker system kicking on. Could almost feel his friends jostle around him while the music starts. It was the first time he’s actually gotten to put on some of his own clean clothes and think about upcoming plans in almost two weeks. And those two weeks in particular felt like years. He emerged from the bathroom feeling like both a new man and a little bit more like who he was before he traveled to another plane of existence, twice. And still, Steve was sitting in that damn chair.

“Were you waiting for the fashion show, or was there something else?” he asked.

Steve shrugged a second, like he was pretending he wasn't even sure himself,“ There mighta been another thing I was told to share when I dropped by.”

“Well?” Eddie dropped into the chair next to Steve instead of taking to his hospital bed,” Do you always like holding out to build suspense, or are you gonna share it already?”

Steve’s hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket. And then he pulled out a small golden tin. “Village Moisturizing Lip Lickers Lip Balm” it read with sweeping letters. Wild Cherry flavor.

Eddie’s mouth fell open for a second before quickly snapping shut again.

What was that supposed to mean?

And why did it look like Steve was holding it out for him?

“I’m sorry, what’s this about? This you telling me my lips are crusty after you kissed me awake like little Snow White?”

“CPR,” Steve corrected.

“Tomato-Tamato,” Eddie waved him off and placed a hand over his heart,” Point being, I don’t think an insult is a very nice present after all I’ve been through.”

Steve rolled his eyes and slid the top of the tin back. The container jutted out from under the cover like a matchstick box, and what Eddie saw inside was not some bright red lip gloss like he expected. Instead, it had been cleaned out and now held two thinly rolled joints in the case.

“Don’t judge a man for how he hides his stash when he’s so kindly sneaking you some drugs, maybe,” Steve suggested while Eddie looked down with glazed-over eyes. Almost like he was looking at a little bit of handheld heaven. “Henderson mentioned you had a certain special request.”

“I apologize- I apologize so much.” He corrected with clasped together hands,” Thank you. Thank you dearly, Steve Harrington, for this generous gift. I owe you my life for this immense kindness you found fit to bestow upon this humble man. Now, do I get them both or-”

“Don’t be greedy. I have it on good authority that this is top-shelf stuff right there. California quality. I planned to try it myself too.”

“Oh, so we’re having a smoke sesh together then? Thought you had a job to get to.”

“Eh. I don’t think any of us are betting on the reopening tomorrow being all that 'grand.' I got the keys to the place anyway. I can just stop by after-hours to finish looking over and sweeping up shop. Could hang around here for a bit. Unless you have some business you need to get to and want me to just take mine on the road.”

“Nah, nah. You’re welcome to stay. Plus I don’t think I’ve got a lighter on me so…” Eddie all but batted his eyelashes at him.

Steve couldn’t believe it,“ How does a dealer not have a lighter on him?”

He spoke sorrowfully,“ The one I had in my jeans took a dip in Lover’s Lake. She hasn’t sparked for me since.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve hummed, plucking out one of the rolls and placing it into Eddie’s eagerly awaiting fingers. In the second he spent pulling out his own, Eddie had already placed his between his lips expectantly. Brown, doe eyes wide open and stuck on Steve, waiting impatiently, almost starry with childlike glee. He looked silly to be that excited for a little pot.

“Geez,” Steve shoved on his shoulder as Eddie seemed to just keep leaning closer and closer in anticipation,” Make yourself useful and crack open the window.” He told him as Steve sat back to snake a hand into his pocket for the light.

The window only went halfway up - probably some policy or other about patient safety - but it gave them a few inches of screen they’d be able to blow the smoke out of, so it was enough to not stink up the room too badly. It didn’t take long to get themselves situated with each of their blunts burned at the ends. Steve struggled to remember the last time he’d lit up in the middle of the afternoon. It wasn’t even 3 pm yet. Most weeks around that time he's picking up Robin from the high school, and if his car even smells like cigarettes she'd pinch off her nose and groan about the stench.

Eddie, on the other hand, was no stranger to a little mid-day high.

Most days - when he wasn’t a wanted man on the run, that is - he liked to get a little baked. With or without any of his buddies, it usually slipped him into an easier state of mind. Made movie-watching, channel surfing, or songwriting just a little more entertaining. The thing was… he hadn’t really gotten any action over the last two weeks, his lungs took a bit of a beating in the last few days, and he’s just slept for the last few hours instead of responsibly sipping on the water by his bedside like was recommended. So, while he usually has no problem taking down the smokey sweetness and ignoring the irritation it brings with it, his constitution had taken to rolling with disadvantage on this particular occasion.

“Thank you, Dustin Henderson.” He spoke quietly into the embers like grace before a meal.

Then he sucked in a deep drag like he was so used to doing and immediately felt the prickle settle into his throat. His cheeks soon went red as he put all his efforts into keeping the toke down without hacking it up like an inexperienced little preteen. But in just seconds, the seal of his lips failed. In a fit of sputtering coughs, ashy breath blew away from Eddie, and those previously wonderstruck eyes were holding back tears.

And, had that been all of the event, Steve probably wouldn’t have laughed very much. Maybe a little, he was a drug dealer after all, but it wasn’t lose-your-mind funny.

The thing was, as Eddie’s body fought against the unwelcome feeling, it pulled at the still too-fresh stitches on his sides. He instantly yelped out and threw his hands down in an attempt to soothe the broken but healing skin. He barely caught the roll tightly pinched between his lips, nearly dropping it in his sudden jolt.

He looked ridiculous. Face red and scrunched up, eyes watery and mad, arms crossed and holding himself, joint precariously about to fall. Now that? That was a sight that reached “fucking hilarious” in Steve’s book. Since it was painted over someone you’d think could handle his shit better.

Steve quickly placed his own hand over his mouth, trying to hold back the laughs like how Eddie had just tried to hold back his wheezing.

“What-” he’d been interrupted by more coughs,” What the fuck are you- giggling at over there?” Eddie asked him angrily through the struggle.

And that was it.

The dam broke, and all of Steve’s laughter suddenly poured out of him. Like a tsunami rushing over a quaint coastal town, he was loud and cackling in a way that shook him so hard that he started feeling a similar strain on his own matching stitches. Eddie’s face screwed up further, and he started to kick away at Steve and his chair to separate them if he was going to be made fun of like this.

And then Steve felt the yank on his sides as he tried to bend away and out of reach. He copied Eddie’s pose to hold onto his still sore wounds.

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie yelled at him, assuming it was part of Steve’s joke.

Which was somehow only funnier.

“Stop! Stop it! The nurse is gonna kill me if I make her do these again!” Steve cried out as he pushed himself away, trying to dodge Eddie’s barrage of socked feet before someone actually caused some damage.

That made Eddie finally start to laugh in response. And before they could control themselves, they were both laughing so hard they cried. All the while wincing and swearing it wasn’t funny. Insisting that it hurt, and it was all the other’s fault, and they really needed to grow up, and have they no shame.

It took a while for the two to wind down. It was funny the way they just fell into the funnies so suddenly. Kind of felt like they’d really needed them. There was so much stress hanging around everything all the time. The opportunity to just laugh couldn’t be wasted. And they could only thank their lucky stars that all their yowling and cackling didn’t call a nurse or someone to check on them and catch them red-handed.

Eddie would eventually re-find his tolerance, so he and Steve were able to burn through their lit joints in something closer to peace. Eddie reiterated that he hasn’t had a fit like that in a long time. He could handle a bit of marijuana, but he was on his deathbed just a couple days ago. He deserved a pass.

Steve sighed. It wasn’t like he was judging him much over that part or anything. He hadn’t even smoked much himself recently. Since Robin hated cigarettes so much he just had less time to himself where he’d be able to without complaint. Plus, being alone with it isn’t the same as sharing the high with someone. And that circle he used to have that would crowd together at parties to get crossfaded didn’t exist anymore.

“So, what song did you pick?” Eddie asked as they worked through their inhales more smoothly.

Steve covered his eyes with the palms of his hands. Rubbing over his face in annoyance while a groan erupted up out of him.

“Ugh, which little asshole told you to ask me about that one, huh?”

“What? None of them? Nancy’s on my case about picking one, so I was asking around. Geez, didn’t know that was a sore subject for you, your majesty.”

Something in Steve objected to the title. But he pushed it down and moved on. Giving up the name of his worst-kept secret because even if he didn’t say it, there were about a dozen other people with the answer.

“Oh? Miss Bonnie Tyler is what does it for you?”

“What? You got a problem with her?” Steve came to her - and his own - defense.

“No. Not at all. Bonnie can rock, man. Just… not what I was expecting from all of that.” Eddie said with a motion to the man sitting across from him.

Steve challenged him,“ I thought your whole thing was about how assumptions about people are wrong? Especially in my case after your epiphany in the woods.”

“Look, I’m not a perfect person, alright.” Eddie shrugged and gave himself over to the idea,“ But sure, The Hair likes Bonnie and Footloose, noted.”

“What do you need with a list of my likes and dislikes?”

“Oh, it’s for my super evil satanic ritual. I’m gonna steal your soul and sell it to the highest bidder. It’s gonna finance my everlasting youth and ticket to fame, don’t you know?”

"Didn't realize I fetched such a high price."

"I assure you, I'll be getting top dollar. Might even hold an auction, let the demons enter a bidding war to lay claim to your fate."

“Ha ha.” Steve mocked with a flat, unimpressed tone. "Well, make it even."

"What?"

"Since you're collecting a list on me, give me the dirt on you." Steve reasoned and looked back to the table of paper he was peaking at earlier.

"What do you want to know?"

"What about this?" Steve picked off the top book from the stack," Tell me why this matters to someone."

And before Eddie could brace himself, his own copy of The Hobbit was being thrown at him. He barely caught it, not being a jock like Harrington and Sinclair.

"Have a little respect for a guy's literature!" he cried, cradling the words of Tolkien to his chest like he needed to protect them from further threat.

"Is it any good?" Steve asked. And he wasn't really being a jerk with the question. He seemed a little curious, but in the way that someone who doesn't like to read is only half-interested.

"Is it any good?" Eddie ridiculed. "Yeah, it's good. It's great. It's a staple of the genre, a legend of the bookshelves-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah- It's a classic, a must-read before you die, it'll fundamentally change you with the moral of the story. Sure, someone can say that about anything."

"Well, The Hobbit is the real deal."

"Convince me. Why do you like it?"

And Eddie was off to the races. A smile stretched across his face while he crossed his legs up in the chair. He started by commending the style of the writing. It was a simple, easy read. Something good for newbies to read and get into the fantasy world Tolkien built for the first time without getting overwhelmed. It was a prequel to the big trilogy, something to tell you where some of the pieces came from by following a smaller adventure. And the way it was written... it was written like it was meant to be read to someone. It was built for storytelling. Which Eddie loved to do.

"It's homey. And, I mean, I've buzzed through it a few times myself, and some of these lines just warm me up each and every go-through. Only part that sucks is that since it's such a foundational part of getting into fantasy, everyone I know with any sort of interest has already read it. One day, I'm gonna find someone I can read it to for the first time. Watch them discover it with my voice leading the way."

Steve shook his head. Reading was never a fun subject for him, so trying to make that some kind of expression of love just didn't seem like something anyone could really enjoy. Maybe he was a little stuck in his ways, but books were a headache. He was pretty sure about that. And, if he needed to deal with a hardcover headache, he'd rather take it from a lump on the noggin than spend hours looking over neverending lines of print.

Their Californian gifts had started working their magic though…

Purple Palm Tree Delight. What a thing it was.

He wouldn't say it was making him more agreeable to the idea of Eddie cracking open the book and lecturing at him, but he was in a better mood overall. More comfortable. Less on edge. Maybe a little too honest.

Steve was soon sat all lax in the uncomfy chair. Slumped down in it until his head could rest along the low back. He rolled that head, now feeling lighter than it had when he walked in, over to look at Eddie and snickered.

“I'll tell you a secret,” he offered, his shoulders hiking up to shrug slightly before he closed his eyes and muttered,” I already finished everything up at Family Video.”

“What?” Eddie’s head craned to the side.

“I wasn’t stopping here on my way over there. I stopped here on my way home.”

“Why’d you say otherwise then?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t wanna seem like I was betting on hanging around too long.”

“You brought a guy weed while he was stuck in his sick bed and ‘didn’t wanna seem like you bet to hang around’? What’s that about?”

“Who wants to seem desperate?” Steve posed the question at him, before dropping some of the advice he picked up from always wanted to seem like he's got everyone's approval,” If you always act like you’ve got somewhere else you can be, then it’s easy to run off when it feels like the welcome's expired. It's not as much of a rejection that way. Just you getting to your plans.”

Eddie understood it when it was spelled out for him like that. But that's never been the way that his world worked.

“Well, thank you for sticking around anyway.”

“Yeah…”

Steve seemed like his mind was going somewhere. But Eddie didn’t know how to follow it, wherever it was trekking. Steve's mind was unfamiliar territory. So he asked about his neighbor. Eddie’s eyes shifted over to where she was laid out, sharing their room, but not their conversation.

“Has Red always been as badass as she was last week?”

Steve’s whole expression softened when Eddie looked back at him. He set his hazel-y gaze onto her. Clear fondness was written on his face as he considered the question.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Steve paused. Remembering.

“She was always kinda crazy, as much as I saw. You sorta have to be to follow a kid you just met - one who swears up and down that monsters are real - out to a junkyard past sundown where another kid is saying they’re making a trap for one at. The same night we beat back demented, freaky hound-things, she apparently drugged a real demon, took my bat, and nearly smashed his family jewels under the spikes. Told him to get lost and leave her and hers alone. And I got to get scared shitless while she slammed the gas in his car and nearly drove us all off the road.” Steve would sometimes swear he still felt dizzy from that delirious wild ride.

“Her step-brother?”

“Yeah. Him.” His voice went lower as he continued,” First day I met her and she was beating back a two-legged monster. All on her own.”

Eddie looked back at her, wondering how much more hell she's lived through than he has. And she was still kicking.

“She’ll be fine.” Eddie decided.

“She will.” Steve agreed.

Time stretched on from there in easy conversation. Before they really knew it, the hour had flown by, and the clock would soon hit four. Steve was about to be sent on his way by the seemingly incredibly punctual nursing staff. So he smacked his hands on his legs and stood up from the window seat.

The daze of Purple Palm Tree Delight was already slipping away, so he figured he’d be fine to drive without sitting in the parking lot for a sobering nap.

“I’ll head off and drop these keys with your old man.”

With a nod, Eddie stood up behind him,” Well, since you’ll be running into him later anyway, might as well drop off the rest of this mess too.”

He picked up the plastic hospital bag that was effectively dirty laundry. Messy Warzone vest, tattered Hellfire shirt, black ripped jeans, and the jewelry he’s honestly been feeling sort of naked without. With that thought, though, he figured there couldn’t possibly be any medical harm in him putting back on just his necklace and favorite ring while he waited to be released.

“Just let me grab…” he’d started while he ducked his head down and picked through the sack. But he soon fell silent as his eyes raked over the contents.

Steve gave him a second before it seemed like Eddie wasn’t just quiet out of focus. “What’s up?” he asked, watching the man fuss about his belongings with growing nerves.

Immediately, Eddie grabbed onto the bottom of the bag, turning it over and dumping the entire contents out onto the hospital bed. Dirty, bloodied clothes littered it, but he just shoved past them and touched the bits of silver shining back at him through the grime. Worst part was, it wasn’t all there.

His mother’s engagement ring was gone.

And there weren’t really words for the way that felt.

He might describe it like his stomach hollowed out, or like the ground beneath his feet vanished, or like he was instantly drenched in ice water. He might say that it felt worse than blacking out or hearing his voice crack over a microphone. Could even think about all the other things he would’ve happily given up before that ring.

But he couldn’t say any of that to Steve Harrington. Even if they just spent the better part of an hour giggling and getting pretty damn candid with one another. That ring - his mother - that just wasn't something he talked about. With anyone. Period.

So instead, he froze. His hands pressed heavily into the covers, and he started to curl his finger and dig into the clothes with the anger, and the shame, and the feeling like, suddenly, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. In just a second, he felt lost. And it was all he could to try and stave off the oncoming tears. The ones trying to boil over, and not over something as surface level as an itchy windpipe.

“Everything cool?” Steve tried again.

And Eddie snapped back up. His face no longer aimed down at the remaining objects thrown out before him. He reined himself back in enough to survive the next few minutes, his fist holding onto the chain looped through a red guitar pick. As if he could even pretend that was all he’d been looking for. He tucked the rest of it back into the bag and handed it over quickly.

“Fine.”

That was all he really trusted himself to say.

And, as if that ending didn’t just flip the last hour they spent together on its head, Steve decided it wasn’t his business. So he took the offer with an attempt at a casual smile.

“Sounds good. I’ll pass it along.”

And he was gone.

The nurse made a face at them when she got to Eddie’s door to dismiss the visitor. Even though they’d been careful to blow all the smoke out the window and dispose of the evidence, the smell of weed stuck out from the otherwise chemically clean hospital. But she let him walk anyway, so Steve went out the door and climbed back into his car.

The passenger seat of the Beemer was full of cassettes and vinyl records from the group for Mikhail to pour over when he got back. He made mental notes to call Claudia and let her know apple pie was the request while he pulled out of the parking lot. Heading toward the edge of town to make a detour so he could hand over the rest of Eddie’s belongings to his uncle.

Steve buzzed the main entrance of the power plant when he arrived. In just a minute Wayne was opening the heavy metal door and greeting him with a friendly expression behind tired eyes. And in those eyes, there was a brief flash of recognition. One not so dissimilar to the way the nurse had looked at him on his way out of Eddie’s room. With a quick quirk of his nose, Steve was pretty sure he smelled the marijuana on his clothes.

But Wayne moved past the notice without comment,” Thanks for making the run for me, son.”

“Sure. I’d say any time, but this was my last day off before Family Video will have me all but chained to the store until we get more hires.” Steve huffed and handed over the bag.

“I feel that. Things are running ‘bout the same over here.” he yawned and took Eddie's stuff,“ And how’d he seem? I won’t be able to go by myself except for a bit tomorrow morning.”

“He’s all good. Needs to make sure not to mess with his stitches too much, but good.”

Wayne smiled fondly,” Yeah, he was always one to pick at scabs when he was little, so that tracks.”

Steve weighed the thought with a light chuckle,“ I don’t know if he’s picking 'em, but he was kicking at me, so he needs to watch that he doesn’t pull them undone overexerting himself too much.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side looking at him,“ He was kicking at you?”

Steve simply answered,“ Long story.”

“Right… Well, thank you again. For the keys and whatever you did that made him worked up enough to kick at you.” Wayne studied him for a moment and added,” But you mighta deserved it, all I know. You a troublemaker?”

“All I did was laugh! I swear!” Steve insisted.

“Hmmmm… maybe so.” he didn't act as if he bought it,” Why don’t you get on home now, ‘fore someone starts to worry about you.”

“Okay. But if you need anything, let us know. We’re all watching out for each other.”

“How ‘bout I call you when we got a place to move back into - one that's not tore in half - and I’ll put you to work hauling boxes. Till then you can relax.”

There was another small chuckle to come from Steve as he was about to head off. “Yes, sir,” he told him. But he turned back around right before Wayne had shut the door to get back to work.

“Actually, I did have a question,” he added.

Wayne looked back at him and stepped out of the doorway,“ Yeah?”

“Eddie was fine while I was there, for the most of it. But, at the end, he got kinda quiet. It was after he looked through his bag and pulled out the necklace. But maybe something was missing?”

Wayne’s eyebrow drew up, and he started combing his hand through everything. It didn't take long for a look to come onto his face. A knowing kind that said he'd pinpointed exactly what it was. Still, he checked with Steve,“ You said the only thing he took out of the bag was his necklace?”

“Yeah, with the red pick.”

“Not one of his rings?”

“No,” he was sure of it,” He just left the three of them in there and handed it over.”

Wayne nodded slowly and looked past Steve. Something like regret or a kind of mourning sat in his eyes. “That explains it…”

“What?”

“He has four rings.” Wayne corrected. “These big ones, he likes them, 'course, but the other one is the important one. He lost one of these and he mighta just been annoyed, but… the other was his mom’s.”

Those last words left Wayne like he barely realized he said them out loud. Maybe he hadn't meant to. It was a wistful thing, spoken with a soft sorrow to believe the news. Mostly just to say it to himself.

But he had said it out loud and just a few feet away, so Steve heard it.

“Oh…”

Steve couldn't exactly imagine how it felt. To picture his mom's engagement ring… it wasn't something that filled him with happy feelings. It… it usually stirred something in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw the large stone glint under harsh lights. To watch it twist between her fingers any time finances became the topic of conversation. It seemed to be a nervous habit of hers that always caught his eye with a sharp gleam.

But the way Wayne spoke of Eddie's, it meant something good to him. And it was gone. After such a terrible thing, he lost something important.

“He never takes that thing off, so if it wasn’t on him when he went into the hospital and got put in this sack… then it’s lost.” he resigned himself to the fact.

“Or maybe it’s in the RV.” Steve offered, trying to find hope.

“Or deep in the woods, or out in the street, or maybe it's stolen…” Wayne argued against the optimistic approach,” There’s really no way of knowing for sure, kiddo. But that- yeah, that would sour his mood.”

Wayne sat with the knowledge a second before he looked back up at Steve and excused himself,“ Uh, thank you for mentioning it. I’ll check in with him as soon as I can. You have a good one now.”

Steve didn't really know what else to say,“ Yeah, you too. Sorry.”

“Not your fault. Things just happen sometimes. Can't do anything about it.”

And the door shut behind him while Wayne’s eyes stuck to the bag. Like, perhaps if he just looked a second longer, the ring in question would appear for him. Because thinking of going back to his boy and telling him that he was right - it was gone, and he couldn't get it back - it almost broke his heart all over again.

Before Steve went home, he stopped by the trailer park. It wasn't completely planned. He more so just found himself there to the thought of Eddie alone in that hospital room looking at his unusually bare finger. He unbuckled from his car in front of the Munson's place. Stepped up the stairs and let himself in through the unlocked door, past the police tape. He walked into the living room and looked over the carpeted floor for the shine of misplaced jewelry.

If it fell off of Eddie's finger when they flipped through the mini-gate, it would've landed there. That's what he figured.

The room around him was covered in mugs and baseball hats, most of which had been knocked off the shelves and hooks. Scattered onto the edges of the room, around the mattress and scraps of torn sheets. They'd all really made a mess of it in their rushing around. He knelt down to the ground and combed his fingers through the short shag, tugging the rope out of his way. But there was no missing ring in that trailer, in or out of hiding.

He came out of the small home and looked across the driving lane. The Jameson's RV had been returned and parked back in their lot a couple dozen yards away. He did mention that place to Wayne when he thought about where a ring could've gone. It could be in there if it was thrown off his hand sometime between the Upside Down and the emergency room. He hadn't thought to look for it when the police let them get back their stuff. Didn't know it was missing back then, of course. But now that he was on the hunt, that was the next place to check.

On his way over, he watched the gravel under his feet for if the ring was lost when Eddie was loaded up, but there was no sight of it down there either. As he turned the corner around the front of the vehicle, he saw the couple lounging in fold-out chairs. Just like they had been when the kids took their mobile home in the first place.

Okay. Steve just needed to ask them if they might've seen a ring somewhere in there since they got it back. Couldn't possibly be too awkward. Surely. They'd understand.

The pair looked up at Steve as he approached. He pulled on his nicest expression and threw up a hand in a quick greeting. They seemed to study him for a second. Not placing his face easily.

“Hi there. Uh- I'm Steve-”

But that was about all it took for their eyes to darken at him.

Mr. Jameson spoke up first,“ How dare you-”

Immediately, Steve fell into apologies,” I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really didn't plan to bother either of you at all. Especially not after… everything. Um- but I needed to ask something. Real quick. Any chance-”

“You don't need to be askin' us anything after what you and those hooligans did-”

“I know. And I agree, and I am really, really sorry. But-” There was a slight stutter to his breath as he tried again,” if there's any chance that the two of you might've seen a ring laying around. One of us just found out it's lost and-”

The fire in the woman's eyes blazed with insult,“ Are you accusing us of stealing-”

Steve tried to signal surrender. “Absolutely not, ma'am-”

But she rolled on through, pointer finger raised to keep him silent,“ If we'd seen anything in there that wasn't ours, we would've handed it over to the police to give back. I don't know what kind of people you think we are-”

“I swear I wasn't assuming-”

“But we're good people. Not the kind to steal a good, honest person's home and drive off with it without an ounce of respect. Knocking over trash, wasting their gas, making a mess of their things with no regard for the people it belongs to-”

“Again, I'm so sorry-”

She raised her voice following the interruption,“ But I cannot believe, after all we've been through since then, that you'd show back up here and try to extort us.”

Steve's eyes almost bulged out of his head at the suggestion. He frantically shook his head,“ No, no, no-”

“So now what?” her husband picked up,” You gonna call Powell with your rich kid connections, tell him you left valuables behind? See if they'll strip our RV and hand you whatever jewelry they might find in there for you to pawn off? Catch your thrills that way?”

“No! I would never. I swear. I just- I already looked around, and this was the last place I could think of where it could've fallen, so I thought I should ask-”

“I think you best get, boy. And I don't ever want to see you 'round here again, or we'll be the ones making a call to that police station.”

“I- I understand. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening. Have a good night.”

Steve scampered away from them pretty quickly. Not stopping or slowing down until he got into his car and closed the door. With his hands firmly on the wheel, he checked the mirrors to make sure there wasn't a disgruntled pair hot on his trail. Though neither of them seemed to follow him away from their property.

He let out the breath he was holding.

“Shit.”

He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so desperate to find that ring for Eddie. Surely he or his uncle would be able to look around for themselves. And, he knew that it wasn't exactly his fault. He didn't see it and kick it away without knowing what it was or anything. But if Eddie was wearing it before Steve picked him up and hiked him across the Upside Down and back to their own Hawkins… and if Steve was careless or something, let his arm flop around or whatever, and that was when it fell off… in that case, it did feel a little bit like his fault.

To think about that whole evening looking back, maybe he shouldn't have let Eddie volunteer to hang back by the trailer with Dustin as the distraction. Maybe Steve would've been faster at outrunning the bats, or maybe Eddie wouldn't have gotten strung up by vines, and maybe Vecna would already be dealt with, and Eddie wouldn't have lost his ring, and Max wouldn't be stuck in a coma, and…

The possibilities swirled around his head long after he'd driven away from the trailer park, made it back home, and excused himself for a shower. Steve's messed up a lot of stuff in his life. Maybe those past few weeks were just the latest mistake he's made so far.

#Finally - I've completed my required work as a fanfic writer under the Steddie Tag #I wrote a Steve and Eddie smoking together scene #There were a lot of small stuff in this chapter I have been wanting to get into the story forever #A ton of little seeds I've planted to revisit as the couple develops 😈#I'm also so happy I got to visit a little on the Hellfire dynamic as a whole for this chapter!#BTW - we're gonna get a little taste of them driving up to Indy for that Ozzy Osbourne concert twitter uncovered happened back then #But that's a little bit away #For the next chapter - the last 'be careful with my breaks' part - we're going to turn our eyes somewhere else #On to some other party members that have some stuff to face...#Next chapter #we're taking a closer look at Stobin and the lingering affects of surviving so many traumatic experiences.#See ya there 😘#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers

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ereborne · 3 months

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Song of the Day: February 26

“Diamonds in the Mud” by Gerry Cinnamon

#song of the day #another song off that same excellent concept playlist by losersimonriley #there's so many more Scottish bands added to my circulation now it's wonderful #this is a song specifically about Glasgow being his hometown so he uses more of his accent for it which I love #I've been pestering my brothers with accent and slang fun facts for a while now #more or less since the first time somebody had Soap use a particular Scottish saying in their CoD fic and made me go over all !!!!#'innsidh na geòidh as t'fhoghar e' translates to 'the geese will tell it in autumn' and reading that nearly made me explode #because when I was a small child and I asked my uncle too many 'why' questions he told me not to worry about it #that the geese would tell me next fall #amazing to me to find out decades later through Call of Duty fanfiction that that's an actual phrase #preserved for who knows how many generations between the first Scottish folks who must've brought it to Appalachia #and then eventually my Uncle Tommy who decided to use it to turn the aggravation tables around on a child #I'm thinking about that again now not just because it still blows my mind a little bit #(really truly had so firmly accepted it as just my Uncle Tommy trolling me with nonsense. it's such a thing he'd do)#but also because of a specific bit from the end of the song 'it's thirteen degrees and there's folk in the street in the scud'#that's just under 60F (a blissfully warm sunny day in Glasgow it seems) and 'in the scud' means 'naked'#which is also a thing I've almost heard from my family!#my aunts up the mountain and therefore also my father at times would say 'in the scuff' (my aunts with a little tilt to the vowel sound)#there was a sort of connotation of it being a silly or immature or maybe drunken sort of naked. an unimpressive naked at least #like 'Tommy fell into the muddy end of the pond trying to catch that damnfool heron' (this is a true story btw. take that Uncle Tommy)#'when he got back his wife made him take off all his clothin in the yard and hose down first. had to walk into his house in th scuff'#and then all the old ladies cackle about Tommy walkin through his door 'both heads hangin low' and my dad winces a little bit #it's important I share all these memories with my siblings now. most of the family's dead and gone and the boys don't remember #very fun for me to tell the stories now and see Nick do the exact same wince at the slightly mean-spirited dick commentary #just a little family legacy in action. thank you Gerry Cinnamon #(in the spirit of song-of-the-day though I will share my favorite line without the contextual boost of silly ereborne family stories:#'I know a guy who's a lightweight / one or two jars and he's buckled #he's the guy that loses keys / has to break into his ain house and gets huckled'#ungodly fun to sing and I do know several of this guy. not related to them though. my whole family drinks like fish)

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lazi4ss · 2 months

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That's Not My Milkman

masterlist

Warning: slight gore but not that detailed, doppleganger Francis

Gender neutral reader

(NOT MY ART, I FORGOT WHOS TIKTOK THIS IS FROM BUT CREDITS TO YOU!)

"So... Is everything in check?"

A tired voice mumbled out as your eyes trailed up from the ID and entry request in your hands to the source of the sound. Tired hazel eyes stared back at you as Francis rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt bad, here you were double and triple-checking everything while the exhausted and probably underpaid milkman was there standing and waiting to be let in. But it's for everyone's safety so don't feel too bad. You gave a small smile as you handed back his paperworks. Everything seems to check out and you were going to let him in but... what's that on his uniform sleeve?

You squinted your eyes as you scanned the cuff of his right sleeve. His gaze travelled to where you were looking and with a shrug of his shoulders he lifted his hand to give you a clear view. And it is in fact blood, and by the looks of it, quite fresh too. How come you didn't notice it before?

You raised an eyebrow, one hand slowly inching closer to the danger button as you tried to be subtle and casual about it. Because what the heck? He was confident enough to show you something so suspicious without batting an eye.

"Sooo... Uhm. Anything you want to share?"

You casually asked, yet nervousness was laced in your tone. He sighed, keeping his composed and nonchalant act as put his hand down, burying it in his pocket as he dragged his free hand on his face. If he's a doppelganger then he's really going the extra mile to act or seem believable.

"Mmm. I know you're on edge."

He mumbled, gaze traveling from your hand that was ready to press the danger button to your face. Staring a little too long as he examined your features. You got a very pretty face yet it was filled with mistrust. Shame. Catching himself, he quietly scoffed under his breath. Good job Francis, already had the doorperson suspicious of you.

"But this is not what it looks like. I injured my hand earlier with a broken glass, blood must've gotten on my uniform accidentally."

He finished, not breaking the staring contest you two have started. You don't quite seem to believe that story, but it was plausible. There was a tense silence for a while before you broke it.

"Show me your wound."

You requested and again, another tense silence. He didn't look like he was going to comply. Just you and him staring down at each other. No one backing down and tearing their eyes away.

"... Fuck."

He quietly hissed and that was enough confirmation for you. You pressed the button immediately, grabbing the phone as you dialed the D.D.D. A familiar voice on the other end confirms and tells you that agents are on their way.

You sighed in relief, although that didn't last long as you heard banging on the glass pane separating you and the doppelganger. Thank God those were strong enough to withhold the assaults. You should've been shaking in your seat right now, and you were albeit not so intense, but it was the first time you came across the quiet and aloof milkman's doppel.

Hell, it was the first time you even saw Francis up front, not just out of the picture in the folder provided for your job. Out of curiosity, you raised the metal shutters to take a peek at it. And what greeted you was a snarling, red-eyed Francis. His features twisted in rage as he banged on the glass repeatedly.

"Let me in, Y/n!"

He growled, to which you shut the metal blinds again on his face in response as you heard the agents barge in. You thought it would be like last time, after a while they would let you know that the cleanup was successful and that they would be on their way back. Easy peasy, right? Oh how wrong you were. Turns out, this one was putting up quite a fight.

You could hear shouting, a lot of screaming, and the sound of something sharp slashing at flesh. Wet sounds of people gurgling in what you presumed to be their own blood... That was disturbing. You were almost too scared to pull up the shutters to see what was going on. But suddenly the noises stopped. Did they catch him? Was it finally over?

With shaking hands, you pressed the danger button off. The blinds slowly ascended and holy shit, the sight was like something out of a nightmare. It was straight up a blood bath. The agents' bodies were piled on the right side. Some missing their heads, missing their upper or lower half, and others' stomachs were ripped out and just generally shredded and torn. But that wasn't what you saw first.

It was Francis, or well, his doppelganger, with blood splattered on his clothes and a little getting on his cheek. His forearm was resting on the glass as he leaned. His mouth opened and formed a smirk as he panted, breathing heavily while glaring at you. His left hand fiddled with the blood-drenched tie on his neck.

If he wasn't a murderous doppelganger, you would've swooned. But alas, you can't have nice things in life. You blinked at him before pressing the button again,

"Wait- damn it!"

He called out but the windows were closed off again as you dialed the number quickly. Yet again, the same old thing was said, another batch of agents were dispatched. You waited, fidgeting in your seat as you heard him call out to you.

"Come on... I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to frighten you. Can you open the door?"

He tried to coax you with that voice... That smooth and deep voice that sounded so tired, on the verge of begging you... Wait what-

You shook your head, patting your cheeks lightly because what the hell was that? Such intrusive thoughts are not welcome while your life's in danger!

More screaming and shouting was heard as the agents arrived and you could tell they were much more prepared than the last batch. Gunshots can be heard but another animalistic growl pulled you out of your thoughts. Everything went silent again. You stay rooted on your spot as the only thing that can be heard in the air is your quivering gasps and heavy breathing on the other side of the glass panel.

Is he still there? You thought as you turned off the danger button again. More bodies were piled up on the left corner and surprise surprise, he was still alive, albeit in a rougher shape than previously. He wasn't wearing his milkman hat anymore, letting his brown messy hair show. His uniform was missing three buttons at the top, slightly showing his chest, bowtie was nowhere to be found.

He was still drenched in blood but what stunned you was what he was doing. His form raised and dropped as he inhaled and exhaled heavily, tired hazel eyes staring back at you as his eyebrows scrunched up. His hands pressed together in a pleading manner. Is he actually begging?

"Y/n, let me in... Please?"

#thats not my neighbor #tnmn #francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x reader #milkman x reader #x reader

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schrodingerscougar · 2 months

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Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.

Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.

For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.

The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.

He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.

“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”

That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”

You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.

“What got you thinking so hard?”

Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.

“Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”

It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.

Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.

He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.

When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.

As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.

You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.

“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”

With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”

Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.

“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare #mw3 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish

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inkskinned · 11 months

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so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

#where's the word woman in this u might wonder if u suck #good news i am nonbinary and have a uterus so that is something that can happen #im also gender fluid tho which means im immune to certain psychic damage bc if u call me a woman i'll be like <3 okay <3 #writeblr #the tightrope of ''ppl need access to this''#and like also #''what the fuck is going on over there'' is like. so difficult as an activist #i was <3 punctured <3 during mine #and almost bled out on the table :) they didn't have anyone standing by bc it's ''just a little insertion''#so i started crashing and i vaguely remember apologizing for the fuss as i heard my heart rate monitor start going <3 tachycardic <3 #she wasn't even a bad doctor tbh #ps btw the reason i even HAD a heart monitor is that i have a genuine heart condition and they knew GOING IN that there was a chance #i'd crash on the table #like my heart just likes to do fun little tricks and <3 stop working <3 (i do not want to discuss the specifics ty i am okay im ontop of it #and they were like 'oh u will be fine' and then she did do a puncture thru my uterus . pop!#and im sitting there dizzy and feeling my heartrate start to drop bc it feels almost. beautiful. like. the whole ground just #woosh! out from under you. and shit is like grey's anatomy. i'm looking up at her grey eyes #she's old she wears this nice shawl she's like got Cool Lesbian vibes and people are sprinting into the room #from other parts of the clinic unrelated to me. while the monitor is like a little aria singing #and shes like hey youre okay stay awake stay with me something went wrong we have to keep trying #and i remember thinking - i was trying to think of nice things. i have so many beautiful places that now overlap #with this terrible memory #i became dimly aware that there was too much on her wrists and hands. like #that was too many liters #and then when they had finished all this. i packed up and drove myself home #i have had (bad thing) happen to me. and the same feeling happened after #that numb almost lamblike bleating. you cry without noise. like. ur body is so shocked and ur mind so empty #you just stare at the road and everything everything is happening behind glass and static and you are standing so far away from it #while you hold ur hands at 10 and 2. and something in ur brain is SCREAMING at you - IT WAS BAD AND IT SHOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED #and ur just watching the alarms in your body going off and youre thinking. a little pinch! ha. i think i just lost something important.

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yawnderu · 8 months

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Lovely — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

"She looks just like you." You whisper softly, gaze full of love as you admire the baby between both of you. He doesn't respond for a long while, completely enamored by the little girl who is holding his finger with her entire tiny hand, looking in awe at the life you both created.

"She's so tiny." He whispers back, secretly afraid he'll startle the baby with his deep voice despite knowing she has fallen asleep to his voice and hums more than once. A small chuckle from you is all it takes for her face to turn towards you, her free hand grabbing a strand of your hair and trying to take it to her mouth before Simon gently intervenes, taking it back and giving her another finger to hold.

"Thank you." His gaze focuses on you as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing random patterns on your skin as the corners of his mouth tilt up in a small, tender smile.

"What for?" You ask as if you didn't know exactly what he was talking about, as if he hadn't thanked you hundreds of times for carrying his child ever since he found out you were pregnant.

"For creating her." His tone is as gentle and tender, and if it didn't show just how much he loves you, the look in his eyes totally did. He's looking at you like you're a goddess in the flesh— and you are. You give him a warm smile, leaning closer to plant a small kiss on his cheek, which he returns.

"I like our baby." He murmurs, his hand coming down to caress her cheek gently with one finger. He treats her like she's made of glass, and in his mind, she is. She's so tiny compared to his behemoth frame, and it took a while until he felt comfortable enough to hold her. He plants a soft kiss on her forehead, gaze drifting between his angels before he lets out a small sigh of content.

"She likes you too." You tease, playfully poking his side as the memories of how much of a daddy's girl your daughter is already despite being only three months old. It's lovely, really, to see the man everyone knows as "the big boy with the skull mask" become absolute putty under the tiny hands of his daughter.

He bends backwards for her, holding her late at night and talking to her, telling her all sort of stories about his life despite knowing she can't understand yet. His heart melts whenever his daughter simply looks up at him and babbles, hand reaching out to him and pulling on anything she can reach with surprising strength.

"Mum would have loved her." Your heart breaks at his hushed words, hand immediately reaching out to caress his cheek as he refuses to hold your gaze, simply looking down at your daughter with sadness hidden deep inside his loving stare.

"Look at me, big guy." It takes a few seconds for him to look up, and when he does, you can feel everything. The regret, the longing, the sadness, the pain. You bring him closer for a soft kiss, both of your lips turning up into a smile as your daughter interrupts you by babbling and holding onto Simon.

"You carry her love with you. In your eyes, your smile, your hair... her love didn't go with her when she passed." He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek softly before nodding his head, carefully holding onto your daughter before laying her down on his chest, one of his hands supporting her neck while the other one holds her body close to his.

"Never saw it that way." His voice sounds distant now, yet it's never devoid of affection and love for you. You know him well enough to know he's visiting a graveyard of memories. You lay down next to him, head resting on his shoulder, planting a kiss on his soft jawline.

"She was the best nan. Always spoiling Joseph and buying him anything she thought he'd like... at some point Tommy and Beth were running out of space because he had so many bloody toys." A small chuckle escapes his lips, smiling fondly at the memories of his family before they were taken from him. He felt comfortable enough with you to be able to speak about his family— you were always so patient, waiting years for this.

"They sound lovely." Another kiss to his jawline as you look at your daughter absent-mindedly run her fingers over his tattoo sleeve. It's ironic, to see such an innocent person tracing something meant to be representing of destruction and loss, yet that's what his life is, two sides of the coin that is Simon Riley's past and present. "I'm sure they're watching over you, proud that you have this life."

He gives you a soft grin, planting a kiss on your forehead as he looks out of the window, fingers absent-mindedly caressing your daughter's back while he looks up at the sky. I made it, mum.

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luveline · 21 days

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JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones.

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does.

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad.

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him.

“Super Pup?”

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.”

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart.

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind.

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his.

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike.

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work.

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?”

“Me and dad are looking for books.”

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him.

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?”

“I want to read Super Pup.”

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?”

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.”

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?”

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.”

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section.

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.”

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say.

“Dad!”

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains.

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.”

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.”

“I can see,” he says softly.

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed.

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says.

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.”

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says.

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.”

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.”

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing.

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.”

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you.

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.”

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate.

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place.

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads.

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying.

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.”

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.”

“It’s Jack’s birthday.”

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.”

“Do you do that for every kid?”

“I do.”

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.”

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ”

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words.

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says.

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all.

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive.

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose.

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane.

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?”

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop.

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch.

“We have something for you,” Jack says.

You stand straight. “You do?”

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me.

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask.

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says.

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company.

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side.

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier,

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron.

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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sivavakkiyar · 8 months

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A young Buddha story I always liked (you might have heard it). When the Buddha was a young prince he was sitting in the garden one day when suddenly out of the sky a swan came crashing down, blood spurting everywhere, an arrow firmly lodged in it’s neck. It flailed on the ground piteously. The Buddha had not yet Awakened, so he ran over and panicked, started calling to his servants to come help him.

From around the corner comes his infamous cousin Devadatta with a big smile on his face. He says ‘don’t take it away! That’s the best shot I’ve made yet. That’s my spoils’. The Buddha is horrified, Devadatta is proud. ‘The bird needs help’, the young Buddha said. ‘The bird is my trophy,’ says Devadatta. The advisors aren’t really sure what to do, and the two boys can’t agree. So they go to the court room where the king and the ministers are gathered, and the court decides to hear the case between the two boys as a kind of break.

Devadatta makes his argument clear: ‘I shot the bird. By doing so, I claimed it. This is how everything works, every stone in this palace and each place of land one owns.’

The Buddha, young and bashful, says ‘Everyone agrees that things that hate each other belong apart, and that those who love each other belong together. Devadatta showed violence to the bird, who will not leave my lap, so you have to understand it as hate; I cared for the bird, who will not leave my lap, so it is clearly love. Hence the bird is under my care.’

The council weighs the arguments after the boys have spoken, admiring Devadatta’s maturity and a little embarassed by the Buddha’s emotional plea. Just as they’re about to make their judgement in favor of Devadatta, the king gives a small cough, and the courtiers remember themself: The Buddha is in the right, the bird belongs to him. Devadatta is outraged, screams injustice, storms out of the room.

Telling this story later in life, the Buddha says ‘Do you know? Devadatta had the better argument, of course. I only won because I was the king’s son—-pure privilege. In a sense, it wasn’t right. But I did care for that bird, and a week later it flew away squawking and happy.’

#long post #storytime

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bambiimutt · 8 months

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He makes you cry during an Argument.

Arguments with these boys? What could possibly go wrong..

ೃ࿔*:･

Headcannons and short stories under the cut!

ೃ࿔*:･

TW!! talk of Hoodie stalking, but not major! I think that’s it!!

Jeffrey Hodex:

- you’d think an argument with your boyfriend who loves you oh so dearly would hopefully end in him apologizing. Wanting to make sure he didn’t say anything to you to hurt you.. but you sometimes forget he’s not the normal person.

-Jeff has anger issues and it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s brought up. So typically with any argument he has, his anger tends to get the better of him.

-which means if the argument is small it’s bound to be blown out of proportion, if it’s a pretty bad argument it’s about to be even worse.

-he doesn’t like to listen. To him he’s always right. He’s never wrong even if deep down he knows he actually fucked up he doesn’t want to admit it because he doesn’t want to look “weak” or too “soft”

-he typically doesn’t feel bad if you end up getting hurt emotionally, you’ll get a good ol scoff and roll of the eyes while he tells you “it’s not that big of a fucking deal, you don’t need to be so emotional.” Along the lines of that.

-but… you might just tug a few heart strings when he realized he’s made you cry. It’s when he sees that he’s scared you that he breaks a little. He’s got a habit of punching walls, breaking shit around the house when you both argue, screaming in your face.. and if it all leads to you finally breaking down and shaking that’s where he finally draws his line.

-he didn’t mean to scare you.. not like that at least. The last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him. He loves you.. even if he shows it in odd ways. He’s an asshole yes but he’s your asshole.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Would you just fucking Listen!” Jeff screamed out. His hands were immediately gripping onto his pants, trying his damned hardest to not punch the closest thing to him. But he can’t help himself the moment you cross your arms and give him that fucking look. “Jeffrey. Cut it out, I’ve listened to you for the past 40 fucking minutes.. you need to listen to me-“ you’re cut off quickly hearing his hand collide with the wall and a loud grunt leaving his lips. He’s slightly heaving, breathing heavily and hair a bit messy in front of his face. You jumped a bit, backing up quickly when he immediately whipped around to trudge towards you, black combat boots making him taller then he already was. His large hand was quick to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together just slightly. “No you fucking listen to me. Stop being a fucking bitch. Why do you have to pick at everything I fucking do, huh?! Huh?!” If he was a scrawny guy you’d say you’d be able to at least get free but no.. no he was a big guy, tall. Muscular, broad shoulders.. built chest. His biceps twitched slightly as his grip grew harder. There was no way you were escaping this. Not with him. Your small hands pushed at his arm and your eyes watered, a tear falling onto his fingers. Oh.. Jeff’s grip softened as he slowly let go. His form lowering himself so he was at your level. “Oh baby.. oh..” his hands hesitated before cupping your cheeks and his lips are kissing at the corners of your lips, trailing towards your ear. “I didn’t mean it..” his voice is deep, gruff and low in your ear as you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry..” really it’s the only time you’ll get a sorry out of him, a genuine one at that.

Tobias Rogers

- he’s one of the ones who’s a bit more understanding. He can’t exactly understand physical pain or frustration but he can completely understand emotional pain and anger.. and how fucking awful it can be to handle. So when he’s stood, tall and lanky in front of you, hands swinging in the air and his voice raising he can suddenly feel the room shift to a hurt.. deep cut feeling.

- he tries not to yell he tries to hear you out when you both have an argument, but having BPD can be an issue when it comes to that.. you say one thing in a slight tone and he’s set off. Oh? So this is his fault suddenly? Why did you have to say it like that? You could have said it this way. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?

-when in reality that’s not how you meant it at all.. and yes Toby does feel bad for it afterwards he shouldn’t have lashed out that way, he should have sat and listened and maybe asked why you said it that way.. but sometimes things get the better of us.

-he’s not always the one to apologize afterwards but he does when he knows he really fucked up. He can’t lose you not to something so fucking stupid. “I-I’m sorry.. you didn’t deserve to hear that.. to e-endure any of that..” with a sniffle you look up at him teary eyed. Oh that really hurts. “It’s okay Toby” he’s immediately at your side, hands brushing your hair back and placing gentle kisses to your jaw. It kills him when you cry.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t know Toby I’m just tired..” this is what set him off. The way you said it. You were tired? of this? Of him? Of this relationship? “Are you fucking serious?” He speaks with his teeth clenched together, his head resting in his hands before he’s looking up at your slowly. His body slightly twitches from time to time, though when he was angry it usually became an issue for him, twitching far too often, clearing his throat more aggressively. His tics would normally become more violent in some ways. “Are we just d-done then? That’s it just b-because you’re tired yo-you can’t fucking walk away-“ his arm flys up in the air as he stands, his hands coming to rub at his face and the patch of hair on his chin. His tired droopy eyes dart towards you. You didn’t necessarily start crying because he scared you it was more of the the stress of the situation. “Toby please that’s not what I meant.” He still hasn’t noticed as his tall figure is rambling on, tics making his occasional grip and smack to his leg but he of course can’t feel it. When he finally looks at you he realizes you’ve been crying and it stops. The room becomes quiet and he twitches a few more times before softly kneeling on the floor where you sat. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that.. I’m sorry..” he’s softly laying you down on the floor as his lips trail your neck, his hands placing your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles against your neck.

-Ben Lawman/drowned

- to be honest he’s probably not the one who started it. He’s usually pretty calm, and quiet…. Except for when he wants to act like a child and become ignorant and downright inappropriate.

-he can be perverted.. gross and this is usually where the arguments start, not that you don’t like him nor the way he acts it’s more when he says things he shouldn’t be saying. So you typically end up yelling at him and he will normally sit embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty.. he didn’t think you’d get so upset.

- on occasion if the argument isn’t about that and about something else he still is usually the one to just take it but there are rare moments where he snaps back. And when he does. Oh boy.

-constant pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, sharp glares at you and laughing in disbelief. He’ll sometimes say things he doesn’t mean. He’s usually not one to yell but when he does you aren’t really expecting it. So it scares you.. and the tears finally break.

- ben only stares for a moment. “Shit.” Yeah he fucked up big time. He immediately feels guilty and he immediately rushes towards you to pull you into a tight embrace. He didn’t mean to take it that far.. he really didn’t, knowing it was him who made you cry makes him want to break down himself.

ೃ࿔*:･

“You can hate me yknow, I won’t blame you, or be angry..” Ben mumbled against your hair, your sniffling shattering his dead heart even further. You look up at the blonde, your fingers lacing their way into his hair as you force a bit of a smile “I just.. I hate when we argue like that..” your voice breaks causing Ben to swallow. Oh no. There’s that lump in his throat. His hands rub at your back before feeling his way towards your lower half, squeezing gently. “I know babe. Don’t listen to me when I get like that yeah?” You give a gentle smile as he softly lifts you up, bringing you closer as he grabs his controller, getting ready to play his game and have you relax against him. Occasionally he’ll presses kisses to your forehead. He doesn’t like to talk about the arguments, maybe because he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions and yours at the same time or maybe he’s just scared it’ll lead to another argument, but he apologized like he always does and makes sure your comfy against him while he games. As long as you’re content with it, he’s content.

-Masky/ Tim Wright

- a bit like Jeff I just think he’s a bit more mellow, he won’t ever apologize unless he knows he’s actually in the wrong. Which ends up being majority of the time. You know he has his episodes, where he blacks out and doesn’t remember a lot of the things he ends up doing.

- he will sometimes black out during an argument. It’s not often but when he does it’s like arguing with a brick wall. Like Jeff he won’t listen. He refuses to listen to anything you say because In the moment he’s the one who’s right. But he’ll never go as far to say mean things like Jeff does. No Tim tends to stop himself before he does.

-he storms off frequently. I think he more or so hates the emotions that comes with this. He hates the yelling, the way you look at him with disbelief and anger.. Its more so he doesn’t feel like fucking shit up for being an asshole to someone who genuinely cares about him. So he leaves you to your emotions to figure out, and if they aren’t figured out by the time he gets back he tries his best to help. Even if he does seem annoyed.

- typically your arguments are more him being snarky, sarcastic and being too logical, he can raise his voice from time to time but he’s only ever yelled at you once, and he still beats him self up for it to this day. Seeing you cry at how angry he got, how you still reached out for him in your meltdown caused by him.. and you still reached for him.

ೃ࿔*:･

“They’re pills y/n, prescription pills. I’ll be fine you know I need to take them. Why do I need to keep telling you thi-“ you cut him off quickly your voice already laced with concern as it shook. “Because you take more then you should be taking Tim. I don’t like it I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” he understood where you came from yes but what you needed to do was stop it. Just stop worrying about him. “Please for the love of god, I’m fine! I’m fucking fine! I’ll be fine! Please just stop it. I hate how much you worry and stress yourself over me. They’re fucking pills, I take them when needed. So just stop!�� Now he didn’t scream super loud, but it was loud enough for you to feel the lumpy tingly feeling in your throat bubble, your hands softly twisting together “s-sorry..” you squeaked out. Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip quivered. He watched you carefully for a moment, grimacing a bit as he watched your face twist with sadness.. and you slowly making your way towards him. Tim opens his arms and quietly pulls you in, one hand rubbing at the back of your head and the other gripping your back. “I’m an asshole. I know you’re just worried.” He mumbled quietly, lips pressed to your forehead as you hide your face in his chest. “You’re okay..” he continues to mumble, awkwardly trying to find a way to comfort you further.

Hoodie/ Brian Thomas

-he’s quiet. Very quiet. I think he’s the most gentle when it comes to arguments with his S/O. He’s scared to hurt you, always in any circumstances. He’s more observant, he knows when the argument gets too much for you just by a single movement.

-though he does have his moments where he does get angry back, he can normally control his temper. Usually the argument starts by something he’s done so he can handle it, he can deal with it. He tells you “I promise I’ll change, just give me some time” and you believe him because he does change but then he falls back into his habits, leaving for weeks on end, taking too many pills, his stalker tendencies.

-the argument this time is unclear, you probably don’t even remember by the Time Brian starts yelling back at you. His hair is messy from running his hands through it one too many times, he’s clenching his fists and trying to breathe as he shakily keeps his voice down.

-even in moments like this he still thinks of you. Not wanting to hurt you nor scare you.. he just lets you have your outburst and then you both move on. But tonight was different.

-he tends to ignore you when he gets worked up in an argument. If he’s not yelling back then majority of the time he’s just silent. His back towards you. But only when he’s angry right back at you. He’ll give you that silent treatment for hours.

-but this time. He made you cry. And he’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes softening, getting down on his knees and resting his head against your stomach,his hands holding onto your waist. Sigh… he just had to fuck shit up again didn’t he.

ೃ࿔*:･

“Brian you can’t just leave me for weeks on end.. you can’t just.. disappear then show up like nothings happened. Where do you go..? Is there someone else” at this point he’s just been listening to you, letting you vent out but when you suddenly accuse him of cheating on you.. he snaps. You really think HE would cheat on you?! It’s not like he didn’t spend months watching you, becoming so infatuated with you to the point that it would make anybody so fucking sick to their stomach. But he couldn’t tell you that he couldn’t tell you he’s loved you far longer. So he stands, looks at you with anger in his eyes, a hint of sadness flashing on his face “don’t fucking accuse me of cheating on you.” He points a shaky finger in your face “don’t you ever. You don’t understand the shit I’d do for you, the shit I DO for you.” He’s close now, watching as you look up at him shakily. “This S-still doesn’t explain where you go Brian.. you-“ he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you close “no listen to me. I want to tell you I want to tell you so badly but I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.” His eyes are averting he’s becoming shaky himself, he’s panicking. Trust him. Is what he wants to tell you, that It’ll all be okay, he’ll be okay in a couple of days, he’ll change just give him time.. but he can’t lie to you.. not now. It would only make shit worse for you in this moment. When he finally looks back at you he sees you staring up at him, not a word spoken but tears streaming down your face, and your wrists still held tight in his large hands. “I..” he softly brings your hand down, lowering himself to the ground as he watches you still stare straight ahead. He scared you. Brian goes silent and lets himself sit on his knees, his hands running up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and burying his head into your stomach. “I’m sorry” he whispered gently, shivering when he feels your hands curl into his hair and finally look down at him. You know he feels guilty. He’s only trying to protect you.

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demovamp · 3 months

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breeding jjk men (ft. satoru, nanami, choso, & sukuna)

cws – gn!amab!reader, breeding kink, ftm!characters, mentions of pregnancy/belly swelling, sukuna lactates, nanami & choso might be ooc, written at 2am, not proofread, lowercase intended

SATORU GOJO :

with satoru, it's a slip of tongue. it could've come from either of you, but in the high of pleasure, all you two cared about was the fact that the word “breed” had made it's way into the air. so, you did what any reasonable person would do;

you grabbed satoru's hips and lifted them off the bed, pushing your dick further into him. your dick plunged into him at a fast, desperate pace. satoru kept his legs spread as best he could for you. his moans and pleas were loud and desperate.

“please, [name]! oh, fuck! right there! fuck me full! don't stop! i want to be fucking leaking your cum… breed me, please. make me a dad, [name].”

and who are you to deny your pretty sorcerer what he wants?

NANAMI KENTO :

nanami is a different story. he doesn't even know he likes the idea of being bred until it slips out of his mouth. he's so composed and together in the beginning, but, fuck him long enough, and he starts telling you all his fantasies. it started with you pulling his hair, then choking him with his tie, then fucking him on his car… bredding, though, is unexpected.

“[name], [name]... i can't - hah… i need more. i need you to cum in me. make me a dad, get me pregnant.”

your hips abruptly stop, dick still buried in his warm hole. you lean over your lover, touching his cheek. “you want a baby?” you whisper. nanami only nods. the look in his eyes show he's still hazy with pleasure, but coherent enough to make such a demand.

it doesnt take long before you're pounding imto him again, condom discarded somewhere. despite the rough pace, you're holding nanami's hands and kissing him repeatedly. “you're taking me so well, love. fucking made for me. you're gonna be an amazing dad. promise.”

CHOSO KAMO :

choso is shy about it. he brought it up because he wanted to experiment from a story he read. he surprises you by laying in bed, naked with his legs spread, pussy on display. a shakily written ‘breed’ and an arrow pointing between his legs were on his stomach. the sight made you chuckle. “you're adorable, cho.” you whisper, kissing him sweetly as you prep him with your fingers. it's only a few minutes later until choso is falling apart on your dick.

“mmph! ah, ah, ah… i… so fast… oh my – ah! [name], [name]... i'm – so good. i like it. i love it. i love you. i love you, i love you…” his confession only spurs you on, thrusting into him rapidly. “i love you, too.” you murmur, wandering kisses landing on his skin gently.

SUKUNA RYOMEN :

sukuna… is a stubborn bastard. no matter what position he's in, he's making demands. he likes just about anything during sex and he'll make it known. this time is different. you found out a secret of his – sukuna lactates. it was an accident, really. you grabbed at his pecs and gave a little squeeze. milk spurted out from his nipple and landed on his chest.

sukuna wasn't embarrassed. more so, pissed off. he was about to say something when you squeezed again, watching more milk dribble out from his nipple. a small whine escaped his mouth at the sensitivity.

no words were said as you resumed your movements, fingers playing with his nipples, watching more and more milk come out.

“awh… look at you. a needy whore spilling all this milk. such a shame it's going to waste…” you coo at him, slowly brushing your thumb over his leaking nipple. “maybe i should get you pregnant. stuff you full, watch your belly swell with my kids…” you smirked at sukuna, watching him break under you with every thrust. “you'd like that, wouldn't you?” he hissed, attempting to give you a look of hatred. problem is, sukuna's eyes always betray him during sex. his usual pissed off expression is contradicted by the haze in his eyes and the redness of his face.

“well? go on then.” he muttered afyer a few moments of silence. his legs spread slightly more, letting your dick push deeper into him. "if you insist."

#— castiel writes #sub jjk #sub sukuna #sub gojo #sub nanami #sub choso #jjk smut #dom male reader #dom gn reader #amab reader #trans fem reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #tw: breeding #not sfw

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

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prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley requests #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #shy!reader #innocent!reader #fem!reader

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kcrossvine-art · 2 months

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Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns. while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #cooking #digital art

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undreaming-fanfiction · 4 months

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I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...

Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.

They get cast in the new Batman movie.

Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.

He's still very hot.

Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.

The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.

Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".

Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.

Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"

Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"

The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.

And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!

But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.

A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.

The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"

Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."

Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.

Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."

Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #actor au

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leonfucker3000 · 2 months

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Gotcha

Bounty Hunter/Cowboy!Leon S. Kennedy x outlaw!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, feelings (of regret) (and slight yearning), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, fucking against metal bars. 16+ because I was you once just don’t be weird

Ummm I wrote this last year in, like, March? I posted and finished it December, though (yikes) with that being said I’m sorry if the writing is…I suppose questionable? Yeah, sure, questionable. On ao3 here if you prefer that site. Not proofread btw.

oh, right, reader’s outlaw name is ‘ranger’ but it’s mentioned once. I was inspired by Leon’s Arthur Morgan mod but you can imagine him in any outfit, all that’s mentioned is that he wears a leather hat (I think). cowboy Leon is the reason I keep on going, thanks.

tumblr is a scary, new place for me. Please be kind😱

The sound of the horse's feet running in the desert sand fills the hollow night. Gunshots and gunpowder making Leon’s nostrils flare, the metallic smoke filling up his lungs uncomfortably.

Close. He’s so fucking close.

You stop your horse and bolt for the abandoned bank you robbed just a month prior and wait . It’s hot and cold, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to keep your breathing still. The weight of your revolver is the only thing that feels remotely natural, the only thing that reminds you that you have at least some control.

His horse blows and grunts as it comes to a halt, a cloud of sand threatening his vision until he bats it away. The swinging door of the bank creaks along with the wooden floorboards of each step he takes.

You can hear him grow closer, the spurs on his boots jingling—a warning, a taunt. He’s got you, and had it not been from how fucking tired you were, you would’ve kept going.

“There’s not much use in hidin’ anymore,” Leon’s gruff voice breaks the low whistling wind, “Think we both know the only way you’re getting outta here is in cuffs or in a rug dragged across the sand.”

You hold in a scoff, the bandana muffling your steadying breath. Hiding behind the wall, you hear his steps come and go, small curses falling from under his breath and muttering you can’t put together.

After a moment of silence, you muster up the courage to peek around the corner. A mistake.

“Gotcha.” His cowboy hat casts a dark shadow across his face, the dim moonlight barely making the whites of his eyes visible. His own revolver is pointed to your head, the reflecting metal almost blinding — another taunt to your capture.

“Kennedy.” You speak through gritted teeth, sour and bitter as you say his name.

“Ranger.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, “Not one day goes by that I don’t get sick of hearin’ that name. Can’t even get a beer without a sad sap waiting to tell their story about encountering you.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind at least. Hadn’t seen you in sometime, thought you died.” You watch as his hand tightens around the grip of his gun, his index finger sliding towards the trigger.

“I’m not gonna die before I catch you, or kill you. One or the other.” He rolls his eyes as he watches you point the gun to his leg, “Put that down before I blow your brains out. The sheriff’ll get mad at me for the mess.”

“I think he’d be happier if you killed me, really.”

“Maybe, but I think they’d rather kill you themselves, and slower.” A sigh leaves you as you drop your revolver to the floor, not bothering to put your hands up because, well, there’s no use for it. “Back up. Don’t need you gettin’ any ideas. Get in the vault.”

The vault? He doesn’t give you time to protest, taking a step forward so his gun grazes your forehead, “Fuck, alright, I get it .”

You back into the vault, the metal bars making it your makeshift jail. He closes the door shut, watching you through the spaces between the bars and giving you an annoying smug smirk, “Look at that . Behind bars is a natural look on you. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”

Leon takes a walk around, finding the key and locking the ‘jail’. Convenient. “Y’wanna start by telling me why you’ve been doing this? They’re gonna get it outta you anyway, best to let it out now. A pretty face ain’t gonna getcha freedom.”

“Pretty?” You muse.

“Shut up.” He scoffs.

“I don’t think my reason would really make a difference.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Maybe not, but every outlaw has some kind of story to tell.”

You slump against the back wall of the vault, letting out a small groan as your hand runs down your face. If you’re going to get locked up and eventually hung, you guess it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to know the truth. He’s not…the best person but out of everyone else, maybe he is. “My family. Dead broke. Needed the money.”

He stares at you for a moment before laughing, gripping one of the metal bars as he snickers, “you really expect me to believe that? If I wouldn’t let a bastard cheat me in poker, I’m not gonna have you cheat me now.”

“‘M not cheating you for anything, I gotta family at home. Mouths to feed, debts to pay, shit to do.”

“That’s a real shitty thing, lying about your family like that.” He grumbles, looking at you like ‘lying’ was worse than all the money you’ve stolen. The lives you threatened.

This man’s priorities seriously needed to be straightened out. You pull down your bandana and toss it to the side as you get comfortable on the floor, the bank door’s small creaks making the night all the more eerie.

When you look up, he’s still staring at you. His lips are curled into a slight snarl and, had it not been for the bars, he might’ve lunged at you.

Leon’s wondering what your game is, he knows what you do when you lie—how you look away from him and take a step back and your lip always twitches without fail—you’re not doing any of that. “Even if you did do it to keep your family afloat, what about the rest of the people you wronged?”

“What, the rich? They don’t give a damn about us, why should I give a damn about them?”

“I’m talkin’ about the public robberies. Like the train robbery down in Georgetown, or the bank in Laredo, those were all big jobs, you tellin’ me those were victimless crimes? Bullshit. There’s oughta be a casualty.”

“If there was a casualty, it wasn’t from me. I’ve never fired a gun at an innocent.”

He scorns, “but you’ll fire a gun at the people tryna protect the innocents.”

“None of them are dead, are they? They’re at home with their families not needing to worry about eatin’.”

He feels conflicted, because fuck if you’re telling the truth then he feels like an asshole all those times he’s almost killed you. A family. You have children, a husband, maybe, unless he’s dead—is that why you’re doing this?—And he’s fought with you more than he can remember. He sniffles, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shaking his head, “how old are your kids?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “i don’t have kids. Well, sort of, if you include takin’ care of my siblings.”

Guess he got it wrong. He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse, his stomach churns at the thought of your younger siblings waiting for you to come home just to never return. Never to know if you died or ran away. No, he’s sure they’d figure out you died, if you were doing this for them, why would you leave them? God he needs a drink. “You don’t gotta momma or daddy or what?”

“My momma’s sick. Daddy’s gone.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, maybe it is nothing to you but it’s everything to him. He hates that he’s so easily swayed. You being fine with this should tell him this is a lie but—

But what? He doesn’t know. You’re a criminal that has added unnecessary stress to the public, even have other outlaws mad at you for taking their money. It’s simple as to what he needs to do.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure after your first three robberies you woulda had enough money to feed a church for the next 5 years. Didn’t need all of that, that’s just fucking greed.”

“I don’t keep all of it. I give it to people like me. Too many families have lost their kids just because they couldn’t feed ‘em for a week. Bet they don’t tell you that, though, do they?”

He knows better. He knows that he knows better. This is a lie, he’s the law, he needs to uphold the law, no exceptions. No hesitation. “So, what? You’re a modern day Robin Hood?”

“If I say yes will you shut the fuck up?”

“If you tell me the truth I will.”

“Mother fucker— I am. You have a gun, have me in a fucking vault, I’m unarmed say for my knife, but I’ll give it to you if it’ll shut you up. what do I have to gain from this shit? You’ve caught up people for way less, I don’t have shit up my sleeve to leave.”

A moment passes, and suddenly? He hates himself.

“God damnit.” He curses under his breath, turning his body away as he groans. He can still hear the horses outside, can hear the wind chiming, playing a small song. You keep quiet, watching him pace back and forth once before pinching the bridge of his nose. “‘M gonna fuckin’ regret this.” He mumbled to himself, putting in the key and swinging the metal door open.

He shifts to the side, motioning with his head, “Go. Get. Leave.”

“What’re you doing, Kennedy?”

His lips press into a fine line as he exhales through his nose, “What kinda man would I be if I took you away from them when I had the chance to save you?” He sighs, “They need you. God knows no one else will give a damn.”

You hesitate, you don’t know why—you should’ve ran as soon as the key went in the damn hole. You grab your bandana you threw off earlier, wrapping it around your neck with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, a small frown on his face before he speaks, “yeah, yeah, just turn your ass around before I find a reason to lock you up again.”

You tip your hat to him, walking out of the vault. Your spurs are the one to jingle this time.

“ ‘sides, I always did like the back of you.”

You planned to keep going. You really fucking did.

When you turned around, your bodies were only two feet away. You swore you walked further from him but honestly, you couldn’t tell anymore. “Those are dangerous words you’re playing with.”

His back straightens and he peers down at you, “Are they?”

“You’re a confusing man, Kennedy.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was simple.”

You tut, “Haven’t you made enough mistakes already?”

He has, he knows it. The first damn mistake he’s made was making it a point to try and capture you. A year and 4 months he’s spent on this–on you. But, really, what bad would one last mistake do? He’s already made so many, it’ll just be another bullet to his chamber. He takes a step closer, chests nearly touching as his hands twitch to grab you, feel you without the mission of needing to hurt you and take you in. “I’d say not enough.”

All those times during his chase he could’ve gotten close, on top of you, felt your breath against his as you cornered one another. He hasn't, and he’s tired of letting it sit at bay. Learning a new side of you made him crazy. Crazier.

God is he an idiot.

Your breaths fill the tense atmosphere as he takes another small step closer, was it always so hot in here?

“We shouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“ Everyone .” You stay like this for what seems like an eternity until Leon pulls you in by the back of your neck, his free hand moving to your waist as his lips crush against yours in a hasty kiss. He groans against your mouth and your fist coils the fabric of his shirt. Your hats tipped one another’s off and fell to the floor.

After a few seconds, he is the one to pull away from you. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him in confusion, he looks at you like it was the answer. He clears his throat and takes a step back, wiping away your kiss and he looks away, trying to deny himself of what he wants.

Who he wants so, so badly.

He struggles to speak, to move, to think. He watches you and you watch him, both of your breaths at a skewed pace.

“Make a mistake with me.” He whispers, he looks different. You can finally see his face, moonlight highlighting his sharp features. Never noticed how handsomely-pretty he was before.

God, fuck it.

You step forward this time, pulling him in by the collar of his button up and pressing your lips against his. He licks the seam of your lips and you part them, teeth clacking and tongues entwining as he grabs the wide of your hips and pushes you against the metal bars. Ouch.

He pulls away from you with a sigh, looking offended at the fact that he even had to leave the plush of your lips. His hand leaves you to unbuckle your belt with fervor and slip his hand inside your pants and panties.

His fingers slip between your wet folds and he dips his head down to kiss your neck. Small moans escape you as he slowly rubs your clit, feeling your wet slick coat his fingers. “All those pretty sounds for me? I think I’m flattered.”

You groan, “of course you’re a bitch even when doing this.”

“I take my words back, then.” He rolls his eyes and opts to bite down on your shoulder, your nails dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt and he shudders when you bite him back. “fuck, ‘s not enough. Gotta taste you.”

He drops to his knees and fumbles with your belt until it’s off and shoves your pants down, his breath stuttering when he sees the soaked fabric. He drags them off you and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. You hold onto the bars for balance, “Jesus Christ, wait . Almost made me fucking fall—“

You’re cut off when he spreads your lips and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighs at the taste of you, “fuckin’ delicious, can’t believe I didn’t do this shit sooner.” His voice, almost a groan, wavered before pushing his face back between your legs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance and his nose bumped up against your swollen clit. His fingers dimple the fat of your thigh and his cock twitches the louder your sounds get. He curled his tongue and pressed it deeper, despite the proximity, he needed to get closer somehow.

Trying to close your legs doesn’t work, smushing your thighs against his face only adds fuel to the fire.

You nearly sob when he pushed a finger inside your cunt, thrusting against your g-spot with a quick, steady rhythm. “ Leon , shit, shit , don’t you fucking stop. “ He slips in another finger, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and a shit eating grin.

First time you’ve said his name, not kennedy or bastard or asshole – his name . And fuck, does it sound pretty coming out of you like that, how that alone makes his cock strain against his zipper.

Filthy squelches and moans flood the empty bank while Leon eats your pussy like a starved man. His own moans escaping as you buck your hips against his face. You pull on his hair roughly and you swear you hear him whine

“Gotta get you nice ‘n wet f’me,” He muttered against your pussy and his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep open to watch you. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard — a cry of his name and you’re so fucking close to coming on his face, panting and feeling uncomfortably hot.

“Too much—“ you gasp, “Oh shit, fuck, it’s too much.” You choke, uneven moans escaping you as you finally come. You expect him to pull away but he doesn’t falter. “Mnh, wait, fuck, get off, get off . ” You beg breathlessly.

Leon groaned again and pressed closer, “need it, give it to me, honey. Gonna make you feel good, just don’t make me fucking stop.” He pleaded, feeling dizzy as he got high off your taste. You attempt to push his head and mouth away but your attempts are in vain.

You let out yet another choked sob when he forces another orgasm out of you, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his lips clean and wiping the rest with the back of his hand. His free hand rubbed your thigh to try and soothe you, asshole turned caring in a matter of seconds. “Sorry.” He murmurs, “couldn’t help myself.”

Your breaths are uneven pants as you look down at him on his knees still. “ Fuck me , Kennedy apologizing? I’m speechless.”

“Oh, we’re back to Kennedy?”

He gets off his knees while yours quiver, “It was a mistake. A fluke.”

A smirk plays on his lips, “yeah, sure. We’ll see.” He turns you around and wraps his arm around your hips and pulls them against his own, pushing you forward slightly so you’re bent over, “grab the bars.” And you do.

You can feel the outline of his cock press against you, “so fucking ready, didn’t waste a goddamn second—y’sure that was a fluke? Getting my pants all dirty, honey.” You feel embarrassed, but not for long when you hear his belt buckle clink and the sound of fabric rustling – heart racing and pussy throbbing as to what’s happening. You turn your head and see him spit and runs his hand over his cock to get it wet. He smirks when he catches you, you shake your head and look forward again. “Gotta be sweet to me or I’ll make you work for it.”

“God, kennedy–” You gasp when he slides the head between your folds and nudges it at your entrance.

“Leon.” he corrects, pushing the tip inside you, “C’mon baby, I know you can say it.” he grabs your hips to keep you from pushing back onto him. Fucker .

“ Leon.”

“Atta girl.”

He snaps his hips into you, body shuddering and your mouth opens with a sharp gasp and choked back moan. His grip on your hips tighten when he pulls out and pushes back inside to the hilt. His breathing is nothing but grunts, groans, and pants, you’re not much different – if anything else, you’re worse. “Can’t– fuck –handle it? Can rob every fucking bank but you can’t take some dick.”The way he fucks you is merciless, he wants you to feel good but also wants to punish you for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve done to him.

He dips his hand lower to smack your ass, “Answer me. Had a lot to say just minutes ago.”

“Sh-shit, I can take it,” you shudder, “I can take it–” Your skin is wet with sweat and it gets harder to hold onto the bars, each thrust making you lose a bit more of yourself. Fuck him and fuck this but holy shit do you suddenly not regret everything you’ve ever done.

You’re mewling beneath him, happily and prettily so. “Pussy’s so tight, just needed a good dicking down.” he moans, “That all it took to get you to – fuck that’s good – listen?” he moves one of his hands from your hip to your clit, stimulating it as he fucks you a little harder, “Say my name, God, I need it.” he groans.

“Leon, Leon, Leon– ” You moan loudly, you don’t know when the sheriff is coming, but if he’s close you’re sure he can hear you easily. Your vision blurs when he touches you and your legs tremble with each spot his cock hits.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha, not lettin’ you go.” Leon’s an idiot, but if his mistakes will make him feel this good again, he’ll keep making them. His composure starts to dwindle when sweat beads his forehead and you start squeezing him like a vice. Made for him, he thinks. “ Take it , fuck yourself onto me honey, atta girl.” his breath stutters.

Who are you to deny him – you do as you’re told and he moans. His hand goes up to your neck and pulls your back against his chest. Within seconds, you come around him with his name on your tongue and a scream. He bites down on your shoulder with a desperate groan before he pulls out and streams of hot come hit your ass.

He holds onto you like you’re his life line, like he’ll fall if he lets you go (he will). You two stay like that for a good 20 seconds before he lets go of you and takes a couple of steps back. He turns away from you and you can hear him zip up his pants and belt clunk when he fixes himself. You do the same, a little slower, both out of lack of energy and embarrassment.

Leon also feels embarrassed. This is the part where he’d usually get whoever he was sleeping with a glass of water, a quick bath, and ask if they’d rather go home tonight or he takes them home tomorrow. He can’t do either of that, and he’s supposed to hate you and definitely not fuck you or let you go.

He swallows, “You need to get going. He’ll be here soon and he won’t hesitate to shoot if he sees you run.”

“Right.” you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you bend down to pick up your hat. You’re both in a daze, he looks at you, all guilty and nervous. His hair is wet with sweat and his cheeks are flushed, had it been anyone else you would’ve pushed his hair back to get a better look at him. But he’s not anyone else, and this was all a mistake . “Gonna stop coming after me now?”

A weak smile tugs his lips, “In both ways, no. Can’t promise anything.”

You fight back a laugh but return his smile, turning away so he can’t see it. He picks up his hat next and watches as you walk away from him to the front of the bank. Like a lost puppy, he follows. “Need help getting up?” he motions to your horse.

“I’ll be fine, Kennedy. You need to worry about yourself rather than me.”

“Like I said, can’t promise anything.”

You hop on your horse, ready to put all that you did with him in a box and stuffed away.

“Stay safe. Be seeing you.” he whispers.

You don’t trust yourself to speak so you nod, not looking back as your horse takes you away.

You’re a good mile out when Leon hears a horse’s footsteps behind him, then heavy human ones. “Where is she?”

“I told you to follow me quick, Chris. She’s gone. Just thought I’d give you the message personally so you didn’t have to wait here alone.”

Chris sighs and looks at Leon with nothing but hate. Ironic. “It’s not hard to do your damn job.”

“Can say the same about you – so, drinks? Need one after today.”

Chris looks Leon up and down, eyebrows furrowed when he does so. “When did you change your hat?”

He blinks, suddenly realizing his is a little tighter.

Miles out, you realize yours is a little looser.

You suppose you two will be seeing another again after all. When you do, you'll finally be ready.

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