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khaotunqs · 1 year

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so i recently hit 13.5k followers!? omg?? my goodness. thank you to every one of you for putting up with the highs, the lows, and all the hyperfixations. it really means a lot to me. 💕

to thank you for following my silliness, i’m going to do a requesting event! :) here are the prompts:

🌌 + make me choose (between characters/movies/shows/pairings/music, etc.)

🌺 + colorful edit (send me a character/movie/show/pairing/music, etc. and color(s))

✍ + quote/poem/lyrics (send me a character/movie/show/pairing, etc. and a quote/poem/lyric)

💖 + my favorite (ask me my favorite character/movie/show/pairing/music, etc.)

it may take me some time to finish, but i will be sure to tag you in the set when it goes up!

thanks again for following my blog and supporting my content!

tagging some mutuals who i love and admire and who make my dash a joy to behold:

a - f

@aarontveit // @afannishknitter // @afro-elf // @anakinskyiwalker // @andyhozierbyrne // @angela-bassetts // @annundriel // @anya-chalotra // @anyataylorjoy // @aoyamariku // @ashinlae // @bellaramsey // @b1uetrees // @bayleafpaprika // @bartbarthelme // @beckybons // @belsmultifandommess // @bestoftomhiddles // @bladesrunner // @blakecholls // @bolshoiromanova // @buckley-robin // @chaos-in-the-making // @chelseadollphin // @chinzillas // @cinemu // @citrinekay // @cloudravine // @cruzwalters // @cuddlybitch // @dawnofus // @denvilleneuve // @deokmis-main // @dickprints // @drlaingwillseeyounow // @easyrevenge // @fancykraken // @fangrui // @floencepugh // @friggassons // @frostelf

g - l

@ghostcat3000 // @godswallowing // @greensaplinggrace // @hanjuwonsupporter // @hanorganaas // @heathyr // @heedoyurims // @highwarlockkareena // @hwanginyeop // @hymn2000 // @illwynd // @jingyismom // @jjimin // @justanothervariant // @juwonah // @juukai // @kangseojoon // @khathadome // @katierosefun // @kimporchay // @kutyozh // @la-fourmi // @laowen // @leedongwook // @limsejun // @liyazaki // @lokifan // @loupsgarou // @l-tyrell

m - r

@malledhrim // @marshallmatherss // @misspoetree // @mountaincats // @mrsmookie // @nebulasan // @negrowhat // @natahjikio // @neo-neos // @noartnowritingsorry // @nonkul // @nyx4 // @obiwan // @ourflagmeans // @paisky // @ptrbprkrs // @rcmclachlan // @rob-pattinson // @roserayne // @rynfinity

s - z

@saltydorkling // @seamayweed // @seawherethesunsets // @seokjinings // @sheisraging // @slamncram // @smingi // @something-poetic // @southernselkieprincess // @spacelabrathor // @spicyvampire // @stilessderek // @stillqueerstillhere // @sugarbabywenkexing // @suuho // @tennant // @thanawins // @themthistles // @the-mjolnir-owner // @the-prince-of-tides // @thesaltofcarthage // @thisautistic // @thortiddy // @tiffanylamps // @tinngun // @tomshiddles // @tylerposey // @usermachikeita // @userseokkie // @venuseda // @villainelle// @wearehappiness // @weaverhawk // @wongkarawai // @yesdramas // @yilinglaozu // @yohankang // @yohussy // @xiaolanhua // @xxindiglow // @zorokashi

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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months

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if it were anyone else (e.m.)

warnings: strong allusions to depression, disordered eating/rough relationship with food, mentions of smoking, description of a sort of panic attack. very sad. hurt/comfort? not edited.

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: this is literally entirely self indulgent and written entirely after i sat and cried and thought "i wish i had eddie here right now to hold me". maybe in like thirty minutes tops. this is for me and only me. go figure lol. sorry. yeah. anyways.

if you relate, my askbox is always open, and i'm very sorry you've felt this way as well. i hope you all take care of yourselves. drink some water, call a friend. be kind to yourself.

“I’m worried about you.”

Four words that always manage to strike a certain type of fear in your gut. You don’t know how to react as he says it, how he wants you to react. You can only stare blankly, you can only wish harder for the earth to swallow you whole.

“What do you mean?” you laugh nervously, following it with a hard swallow.

You’re playing dumb. You know it, he knows it. The tremor in your bones and your numb appendages know it, too.

“You’re…” Eddie stalls, licking his lips, letting his eyes rake over you, “You’re getting bad again.”

You’re quick to shake your head, forcing another hollow chuckle from your chest, “It’s not that bad. I’m fin-”

“You’re not fine.”

The look in his eyes could crack your spine if you stare too long. Wet eyes, a trembling bottom lip, worry lines etched into his forehead that you realize might be caused by you.

You’re causing him worry. The last thing you want to do, you’ve accomplished. You’re on a fast-track to becoming a burden – the first step is always acceptance.

You’re still unsure of how he wants – no, needs you to react right now. This conversation is a landmine for both of you, and you hold every breath with every step as you try to navigate it. If you make one wrong step, it could cause an explosion that spares no survivors.

You don’t mind if it tears you apart limb by limb. You do mind if it hurts him.

“How… How do you know that?”

It’s not a sarcastic snipping or defensive deterrence. It’s an unfiltered response of genuineness – you want to know the signs, you want to know what has exposed the rot this time.

And then, maybe next time, you’ll be able to better shield it from him with this knowledge.

“How could I not?” he takes a deep breath in through his nose, and you focus on the flare of his nostrils rather than any of the tears beginning to gather at his waterlines, “It’s been happening for a while now, though, hasn’t it?”

Your throat is a cage, tight and restrictive and ringing with a bitter metallic taste in its tenseness. You can’t respond with words. You can only nod.

He chooses to answer your question more properly now that you’ve admitted it, “You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground. Picking up distractions like they’re going out of style.”

“Hey, they might be. We never know-” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet his. Now’s not the time for jokes, “Sorry. I… I know. I’m sorry.”

He’s right. Fuck, he’s right.

“I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly,” his own steps across these landmines are just as delicate, just as feathery light, as your own. You hear it in his tone, see it in his body language. You wish your body could sink into the mattress you’re sitting on the edge of as he crouches in front of you, warm palms connecting with your knees. Grounding you. Tethering you. Holding you back from that sinking you crave. “Are you… Sweetheart, are you okay?”

If anybody else had built up to such a stupid question, you would have laughed in their face. You would have shoved those warm palms right off of your skin and you would have thrown up those ice cold hands of your own, shouted obviously not.

Obviously not. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay, it’s a bit comical. I am drowning. I am treading in freezing cold waters and I am barely capable of keeping my head above the waves. My engine is fucked, my tank is empty. I don’t think I’d even know how to be ‘okay’ again if you did manage to pull this mangled body of mine from these depths and sat me down on safe, solid ground again.

You can’t say any of this, though. Not because you don’t trust him, not because he would judge you. But because the moment he asks the question that should make you scoff, you let out a sob instead. Something like a muffled, broken wail that tears from deep within you. It had already been ready and poised, laying in wait for a perfect moment like this one to escape.

His eyes aren’t the only glossy ones anymore.

“I-” you start, breathing already stuttering and chest already constricting, “I- I-”

“Hey,” he palms smooth up your thighs, carrying their warmth with them, as if he were trying to spread it across you. As if he had heard your thoughts. As if he already knew all about those dark, treacherous, freezing waters you were stranded in. All you can do is spew out another cry, strangled as you tried to swallow it down before it entered the atmosphere between you two, “Hey.”

You only notice the tears when you crumple forward and he meets you halfway. Those warm palms, those hands so capable of safety and promise, cup your cheeks and his thumbs make quick work of swiping away the salty streams.

“Hey, baby, breathe for me,” his voice is tragically gentle, “Just one deep breath, okay?”

To demonstrate, you watch his chest expand dramatically, his hands forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

You can’t see through the bleariness.

“C’mon, sweetness,” he encourages again, “One breath. Just one.”

If it were anyone else, you’d turn into a fit of rage at the coddling. You’d break everything in sight. You’d scream until your already burning lungs finally collapsed as they’d been yearning to for so long.

But it’s him. It’s just him, it’s just Eddie.

His chest rises dramatically again, and this time, yours does as well, albeit through stifling hiccups. You’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the flood of emotion that was wrecking you.

“There you go!” his voice rises ever so slightly, and when you flinch a bit at the sudden volume, he retracts, “Sorry, sorry. But that’s it, sweetheart. Another one, okay?”

Another breath. Another sob. Another wave of all the pain you’ve been battling off.

You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground.

He was right and it fucking killed you. None of those are things you could ever shield him from. You didn’t have the heart to pull away those numb and icey fingertips every time he’d reach out for your hand, or try to cover the shivers that managed to rack your bones even in the middle of summer. The sleeping situation had been spiraling, a pendulum of sleepless nights that would end in a sleep so deep that you could have been mistaken for resting with the dead. Maybe the smoking you could have hid, especially when you’d been so boastful about quitting.

You weren’t running yourself into the ground. You had already collapsed into the dirt, you had already joined the worms. You’d buried yourself alive, six feet under, and nothing could have stopped him from sniffing out that scent of decay on you.

The death of a soul and mind. The death of the thing that had propelled you forward for so long. No amount of sweet perfume, or hour long scalding showers, or minty gum to occupy your mind rather than a proper meal, can erase that stench.

You never could have shielded him. He always saw right through you. Always had, always would.

“I’m sorry,” you end up crying out.

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you echo the words again. Over and over, on repeat, until he’s rising from the ground. Until he’s sat beside you. Until his arms are suddenly encasing you and you’re awarded a warmth you didn’t feel deserving of.

He doesn’t smell like the decay you’d surrounded yourself with. He smells like slow waking in the morning, dreary and calm and at a reasonable time. He smells like warm baths that only relax your bones, and don’t have to blister your skin in the process. He smells like three meals a day, all comforting and all effortless and that never linger with a sense of regret.

He’s not decay, never even treading close to death. He’s home. He’s the promise that you could be okay. Even if it isn’t right now.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, squeezing you tighter into his chest, not even blinking an eye at the patch of wetness you leave behind from where your cheeks bury against him, “Never apologize. Ever. Not with me, sweetheart. Keep the sorries. I don’t need them.”

If it were anyone else, the holding would have suffocated you. But it’s him. It’s Eddie.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you fully into his lap, situating the two of you comfortably on that mattress.

You don’t know how long you let him cradle you like that. How much of that time is spent filled with your cries, or how many breaths he gently urges you to take with him. He never once has to verbally say what you already know; he never once promises aloud that it’ll be okay. He doesn’t put that pressure on you, not yet. Not today. Not when he knows the journey to okay is still such a long one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers to you instead, “I’ve got you, now, sweetheart.”

If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t believe them.

But it’s him. It’s Eddie.

And he’s got you, for now and for as long as you need.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson comfort #idk what this is #i hope it flops because fuck is it personal !#i wrote very quickly and did not edit it lol #like my own personal diary entry or therapy session #bleh #very niche and doubt it's relatable lol #but i'm unwell and what good am i if i can't make content #if nothing else #i can create #still good for something maybe i don't know #at least something not awful can come from this storm

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lilyrizzy · 2 days

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nico hischier, family & home

the athletic / guess how much I love you - sam mcbratney / the ny times / the players tribune / the hockey news / giovanni’s room - james baldwin / markerzone / regrets - hether / electra - euripides

#i got emotional reading interviews all afternoon so...have this I guess lol #i've never made something like this before so maybe it sucks but the vision would not leave my mind lol #the photos are all from pinterest so not tagged #hope someone enjoys this!#nico hischier #new jersey devils #web weaving #special shout out for lorna for translating articles & generally letting me drag you into this fandom #this is why you're my ride or die xox #this will flop bc no one follows me for hockey BUT #i like it

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puppyeared · 5 months

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its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

#I have an assignment that was due a week ago and I really really dont want to do it. I have to but i dont want to #im probably making it worse because my brain has built a wall around it so now i can’t do literally anything else until thats done. but #because I don’t want to do it I’m just kinda stuck. turns out this is what they meant when they said emotional regulation is part of #exec dysfunction.. I’ll have a thought like if I get a little bit of it done now i can get it over with. I can just submit something #and then not even 5 minutes later itll be like ugh but I have to draw all the assets out. I have to write things and make spreads ugh #and its just flopping between those two things. i hate it when ppl are like well how much time do you need to work on one thing #because BOY id love to know too. I’d love to know exactly when my brain wants to cooperate with me and work around that but I cant #even my period can’t decide when it wants to punch me in the stomach. which is kinda funny in the grand scheme of things but still #its so weird im just lying on my bed thinking abt all this like damn.. the time will pass anyways no matter what I decide to do.. damn….#if I submit that assignment now and take the L I literally won’t die. it’ll just be a deduction on an assignment nobody will ask me about #I know this but I’m still stressing myself about it so my thoughts aren’t really connecting to my body. weird #maybe its because Im having a hard time looking forward to things. theres definitely a lot I should be living for but I don’t really feel #a strong attachment to it I guess? it’s been like this for a while with holidays and meeting with friends so I just don’t #I kinda figured its because im pretty passionless and its more like passing interest. but it’s not very fun when it feels like I’m going to #be living distraction to distraction for the next 70 years or so lol #idk it kind of feels like slowly bleeding out. which is funny because I actually did experience blood loss this week #had a 30 minute nosebleed and literally could not stand. also it felt like someone was pinching the back of my brain which was interesting #yapping #does this count as vent #vent #Ive just been making an oc carrd and contemplate changing my blog header for the past 3 days honestly

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piritos03 · 1 year

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Boss Bitch

Reference under the cut ⬇️

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tribow · 1 year

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Why do I tell people to play indie games?

K' so you may have seen that post I made a little while ago asking people reblog and put into the tags an indie game that they did NOT like.

I made that post because I wanted to hear about what indie games people had bad experiences with. There was another post I made saying "Tell me you don't play indie games without telling me you don't play indie games" in response to a ton of youtube videos saying modern video games are no longer fun. A lot of tags would say, "Well indie games can suck too!" This response was extremely silly to me and I wanted to know what games they could be talking about.

I didn't ask for it, but so many people starting explaining why they didn't like a certain game. So I decided to make a little pie chart with the reason people would give in the tags

There are some outliers not here. There were 5 tags saying a game offended them and some responses that were too specific to really count. Half of the posts also gave no explanations so I'm not going to act like this is representative of every response on that post.

Okay so what's the point? Why did I do this?

There's this one 30 minute video by Josh Strife Hayes that does a super good job showcasing all of the bad practices that happen with modern gaming. He talks about each issue thoroughly, but I'll list them here:

Microtransactions, Limited Progression, Invite Boosts, Premium Currency, Loyalty Programs, Selling Power, Battlepasses, and Selling Progression

He doesn't even mention other issues like games releasing in clearly unfinished states, games that are clearly chasing trends, and game developers being restricted by their publishers.

Why is this significant? Well answer me this: Was there a single tag response in my post that complains about an indie game doing these things?

Say what you want about indie games, but I bet you didn't pay $60 and got psychologically manipulated to spend more on that game. I bet you weren't getting manipulated by some free to play model to spend more money than you would on a normal game. I bet the game actually released in a finished state and even if it did, the game clearly communicated it wasn't done.

Sure, you could give me examples of indie games that do have those bad practices, but I guarantee you that you cannot prove that most indie games do this.

So yeah, play indie games. Don't support corporate bullshit unless you know the game was made with the player's best interest in mind.

#indie games #video games #aaa games #gaming #and yeah pay attention to middleware games too #long-ish post #think of it another way #which game is worse? The game you hate that you spent $60 on or the game you hate that you spent $25 on #Battlefield 2042 would NEVER happen with an indie game #remember how awesome gaming was “back in the day?”#yeah you can experience that right now by playing indie games and middleware titles #who knows maybe if everyone stopped supporting these god awful AAA games with their money they'll wise up and actually make some good games #also shoutouts to another post that could very easily flop due to my small blog lol #I like get my thoughts and reasonings out of my head though #dont want my thoughts festering in my brain I need more space my obsessions #would like to see this post reach those who responded to the other posts though #will probably reblog it later tomorrow

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