if he's not making me look like this over text then what's the point in anything
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if he's not making me look like this over text then what's the point in anything
Ive given up with the fancy links, tumblrs just on one apparently so here's a direct one:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/78754956/chapters/206529196
Well that went through a rather extensive rewrite lol. Second chapter's premise is the same as what I posted on tumblr but I improved the flow and quality of it quite a bit.
Prev:
“I’m gonna need you to stop saying shit like that. I’m tearing up here, Steve.” He's trying to pull back, to make a joke about this.
Forcing himself to sound normal as his emotions riot within their bond. Do some damage control, as if Steve can't feel all of it.
“The children can’t see me cry.” Eddie finishes rather lamely.
“It does ruin your reputation a bit.” Steve agrees, playing along as he begins a slow journey to inch closer. “And I knew enough of you.”
Eddie makes a noise he thinks is supposed to be a laugh, but it doesn't come out right.
Stares with watering eyes, peering through his fingers at Steve.
“I don’t--you don’t want this. You didn’t want me.”
Steve wants to ask where the hell Eddie got that idea, given Steve was the one who reached out first, but doesn’t bother. He knows the answer.
Wallace Polsom, Life During Wartime: Kept (08 Sep 2025), paper collage, 24.6 x 28.3 cm.
The chains felt cold against my skin, a metallic web that held me captive. They stretched beneath me, a silent promise of no escape. This wasn't the comfy bed I had imagined, no; this was my cell now. A place of involuntary rest, and forced obedience. The job ad had promised high pay, flexible hours, and a comfortable work environment. I should have read the fine print.
I lay there, a grotesque butterfly pinned to the mattress, my arms bound, my body stretched, my will completely irrelevant. The straightjacket, a familiar embrace of restriction, made it so I could not even move. This was my new normal. My gaze fixed on the camera, a silent question hanging in the air. It was all happening now. All I had to do, was to give in to the moment.
The realization was slow, but inevitable: there would be no sudden escape, no magical loophole to get me out of this. This wasn't a bad dream; this was my new reality. The lucrative contract, the promises, it had all been a facade, a trick to lure me into this twisted space, a world where I had signed away my freedom, my body, my very being, and I had no idea where this path will take me. And all I could do, was watch.
Tonight at a restaurant the waiter looked at our one year old and asked if we wanted a high chair or booster seat and Ben got excited and chose booster seat and that was quite a fucking mistake let me tell you
🌀daily imaginings & required bunny treats while Daddy is away🌀🎀🌷