Just A Psa For Fic Writers Who Use The “trauma Bond” Tag, Please Make Sure You’re Using It Correctly.

I'm currently testing the limits of my antidepressants by rewatching Breaking Bad

hey can you do me a favor and start that project that you wanted to work on please I am begging you to do the first step

literally only the first step

you only have to do the first step

PLEASE PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU SO MUCH

like if it's an art project open your art software or gather materials

If it requires reaching out to someone just send that email or whatever

If it's writing please make an outline

etc etc you know what the project is please start it please PLEASE

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA PLEASE

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go… Take My Binder Off First

Pairing : Eddie Munson x Male Trans reader Tags: Trans Reader, Mentions of weed, Fluff, Established relationship Word count :1061

Eddie watched (insert name) sink further into the nest of blankets and pillows he'd assembled on his bed. The air hung thick with the sweet, hazy scent of weed, mingling with the ever-present aroma of stale cigarettes and hairspray that permeated Wayne's trailer. Outside, the crickets chirped their incessant Hawkins lullaby.

(Insert name) mumbled something unintelligible, eyes fluttering shut. A smile tugged at Eddie's lips. (Insert name) was beautiful, even half-stoned and on the precipice of sleep. The soft light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the gentle curve of his cheekbones. He looked… peaceful.

A flicker of concern cut through Eddie's fondness. “Hey,” he said softly, nudging (insert name)’s shoulder gently. “Hey, man, before you totally conk out.”

(Insert name) groaned, swatting vaguely at Eddie’s hand. “Mmm… five more minutes…”

“No can do, sleepyhead. You gotta… you gotta take that thing off first.” Eddie gestured awkwardly towards (insert name)'s chest, trying to keep his tone light.

(Insert name) opened one eye, regarding Eddie with a bleary, half-lidded stare. “'S too much effort, Eddie. Comfy.”

Eddie ran a hand through his own tangled hair, the metal of his rings clicking together. This was always a delicate dance. He knew (insert name) didn't always love being reminded, but Eddie also knew how much more uncomfortable it would be to sleep in his binder.

He picked at a loose thread on his ripped denim vest. “I know, I know, but it's gonna be way worse if you sleep in it, dude. Trust me. Ribs and all that jazz.”

(Insert name) groaned again, a longer, more drawn-out sound this time. “You just wanna see me naked, Munson. Admit it.” He said, his voice thick with sleep and laced with playful accusation.

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly . “Please, baby. I've seen you naked. Many times. I was just thinking about your well-being.”

But the truth was, yeah, he did. He loved the way (insert name)’s skin felt under his hands, the way he looked in the soft light. The genuine joy that would spread across (insert name)'s face when he felt comfortable and safe., he had the utmost respect for (insert name)’s body. It was a constant learning process, navigating (insert name)'s boundaries and desires, but Eddie was more than willing to put in the effort.

(Insert name) mumbled something else, his eyes drifting shut again. Eddie sighed. He knew this drill.

He reached over and gently shook (insert name)’s shoulder again, more insistent this time. “(Insert name). Come on. Just for a sec. I’ll even… I’ll even play ‘Iron Man’ backwards for you.”

That seemed to do the trick. (Insert name) cracked an eye open again, a reluctant smile playing on his lips. “Black Sabbath is the superior band, Munson. You know this.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll play Paranoid backwards. Deal? Now, upsy-daisy.” He tugged gently at (insert name)’s arm, helping him sit up.

(Insert name) grumbled as he reached under his shirt, the familiar sounds of the binder’s being removed echoing in the small room. Eddie busied himself by straightening the already-messy blankets, giving (insert name) some space.

He knew (insert name) had a complicated relationship with his body. Eddie knew some of it was dysphoria, the feeling of disconnect between his inner self and his physical form. He knew because (insert name) had carefully, hesitantly, explained it to him one night, after too much cheap beer and a shared cigarette on Wayne’s porch. Eddie had listened, really listened, trying to understand the depth of (insert name)’s experience. He would never pretend to fully comprehend, but he would always try.

And he knew some of it was just… societal bullshit. The pressure to conform to some ridiculous, outdated standard of masculinity. Eddie, who had never given a damn about conforming to anything, found himself fiercely protective of (insert name).

Finally, the binder was off, tossed carelessly onto the floor. (Insert name) slumped back against the pillows, breathing a visible sigh of relief.

Eddie glanced over, trying to gauge (insert name)’s mood. He still looked tired and a little out of it, but there was a definite relaxation in his posture.

He grabbed one of his well-worn Black Sabbath t-shirts from the pile on the floor – oversized, faded black, and smelling faintly of Eddie himself – and tossed it to (insert name).

(Insert name) caught it with surprising reflexes, despite his drowsy state. He looked at the shirt, then back at Eddie, a small smile playing on his lips. “Generous of you, Munson.”

“What can I say? I’m a giver.” Eddie grinned, trying to inject some levity into the situation. “Besides, you look better in it anyway.”

(Insert name) chuckled, pulling the shirt over his head. The fabric swallowed him whole, the hem falling almost to his knees. He looked impossibly small and vulnerable in Eddie’s oversized shirt, and Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Thanks, Eddie.” (Insert name)’s voice was soft, sincere.

Eddie shrugged, trying to mask the intensity of his feelings with a casual gesture. “No problem,baby. Now, get some sleep. You’re starting to drool on my Dio poster.”

(Insert name) snorted, settling back into the pillows. He was asleep within minutes, his breathing evening out, his face relaxed.

Eddie watched him for a long moment, a complex mix of affection, tenderness, and protective instinct swirling inside him. He carefully adjusted the blankets around (insert name), making sure he was warm and comfortable. He picked up the discarded binder, folding it neatly and placing it on the floor beside the bed. He knew it was a temporary fix, a small gesture, but it was the best he could do in the moment.

He turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of moon visible through Wayne’s dusty window. He crawled into bed beside (insert name), careful not to jostle him.

He lay there for a while, listening to (insert name)’s soft breathing, the rhythmic chirping of the crickets, the distant rumble of a car driving down the highway. The trailer felt small, cramped, and utterly… safe.

He reached out, tentatively, and brushed a stray strand of hair from (insert name)’s forehead. (Insert name) stirred slightly, nuzzling into the touch. Eddie smiled.

Traditional boiling iles maidenly dress is a bit awkward when you're also trying to haul a slop beast

helo! *kills u*

Women can write m/m. Men can write f/f. Asexuals can write filthy smut. Lesbians and gay men can write m/f. It's all arbitrary anyway. Who give a shit.

all i want is mutuals that reblog my posts and talk to me and call me by my first name

Silly post i did for celebrating 200 followers on insta and 260 on here! Yippeee