#( in this house: all muses are beans. )

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: coffee date with ford ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

stanford pines x reader fluff // based off of this headcanon post.

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

you could tell that something was off as soon as you walked into the house.

the mystery (s)hack has officially run out of coffee beans ... and there's a grumpy grunkle to show for it.

"uuugh..."

six rough fingers moved to wearily rub the forehead of their owner: a sleep-deprived scientist who'd stayed up late last night working on a project. of course, whether the project was actually worth losing sleep over or not wasn't entirely relevant ... ford just didn't want to go to bed and deal with his thought-filled brain. despite his troubles with bill being behind him, there often are nights where he just can't fight the paranoia.

trudging out into the kitchen, the broad-built man leaned against a countertop with one arm, heaving a low and rumbling sigh.

"well, well. good morning, sunshine." a gruff voice called out from across the room, accompanied by the sound of cereal pouring into a bowl. stanley was ' making breakfast ' for dipper and mabel, who waited eagerly at the table. "didja get enough beauty sleep?"

"i'll answer that question after i have my coffee." ford huffed, eyes still half-shut and darkened with exhaustion. upon hearing those words, stan trailed out an 'uhhhh' and glanced towards the coffee machine.

"about that, sixer ... it's all gone. i was gonna grab another bag the last time i was out, but i got distracted."

if, by being distracted, he meant attempting to shoplift a twelve-pack of pitt cola and getting caught, he was technically telling the truth.

"what."

the corner of ford's left eye twitched. no coffee? how could he have overlooked such a possibility? great ... just great.

after a moment longer of taking in the unfolding scene from the open front door, you decided to speak up.

"uh, everything okay?"

everyone's attention shifted to you. you'd only been staying with the pines family for a few days as a temporary fix for your living situation, but somehow, it was beginning to feel like home. mabel grinned brightly upon seeing you, waving her small hands in the air.

"hiya, cutie !! back from your morning walk? how'd it go?"

you met her honey brown eyes, and a smile crept onto your expression.

"it was lovely, thanks." you made your way into the house, closing the front door behind you and promptly taking a seat beside the smaller twins at the table. the grunkles observed you, following suit and each coming over to fill the remaining empty seats.

"i hope ya like cereal, cause i can't cook for my life!" stan grinned, gave everyone a bowl of cereal, and the feasting began.

mabel scarfed down her bowl, akin to how waddles might eat his own breakfast. dipper and stan both ate slowly, while you were somewhere in the middle. the only odd one out was ford, who hadn't touched his spoon at all. his head was rested against one hand, and his eyes were shut, as if he were deep in thought or (more likely) dozing off. still, he looked like he should at least eat something ...

"ford?" you called from across the table, spoon in hand.

"i- wh- ... huh?"

he stammered, a faint shade of crimson tinting his cheeks as he snapped awake and stared at you like a deer in headlights. stan snickered.

"what's wrong?" your voice was concerned, with an undertone of amusement. it seemed unnatural for him to act so disheveled, considering how your first impression of him was extremely put-together and educated. although, you couldn't say you disliked this side of him.

he cleared his throat. "well, you see, we've ... run out of coffee. during days like these, i rely on the caffeine to keep me awake."

"i see." you crunched on another mouthful of cereal, swallowing with a thoughtful hum. "isn't there a good café somewhere near here?"

at that, ford raised his bushy brows. a café? that's a good point.

"it must be relatively new, because i can't say that i've ever been to such an establishment in town." he mused, stroking his chin stubble as he attempted to recall the various changes that had occurred in gravity falls since he'd returned after being gone for thirty years.

"i could take you, if you like."

"...what?"

and now, all eyes were on you.

blinking innocently, you restated your offer.

"i said, i could take you, if you like. i've been there a few times myself, and they've got a lot of good options."

"gasp !! like a date ??" mabel squealed, only to be elbowed by her twin brother. her comment earned a darker blush from ford and a choke from stan.

"u-um ... i wouldn't necessarily say a da-"

"ahem! i accept your offer. it would be good for me to get out of the house, anyway." ford hurriedly interrupted you, averting his gaze as he straightened his trench coat and adjusted his turtleneck. a stifled squeal of joy could be heard from the kids' end of the table.

and just like that, you found yourself strolling down the sidewalk, side by side with the tired scientist. he had freshened up somewhat, having taken the time to tame his bedhead hair and clean his dusty glasses. even while sleep deprived, he looked handsome in the warmth of the sunlight. catching yourself staring, you quickly averted your gaze to in front of you, focusing on where you were walking. ford had most definitely seen you looking, but chose not to say anything about it.

the silence wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but it certainly was not commonplace for either of you. you've been living on your own for a while now, so you're acquainted with silence, but not the kind shared with another person. on the flip side, ford has slowly been learning to cherish peace and quiet again after getting rid of bill's voice in his head.

upon arriving at the café, the two of you took in the inviting atmosphere, inhaling the scent of brewing coffee and sweet pastries as the little bell hanging from the door jingled to signal your appearance. ford visibly relaxed, already pleased.

"you know what you want?" you questioned with a smile, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"mm, i think i'll have the cold brew with vanilla cream." he replied, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a somewhat shy grin. you swore you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

"alright." making your way up to the cashier, you put in your order for two drinks, pulling out your wallet and selecting the appropriate bills to pay for the both of you. ford was somewhat shocked that you had made the move to pay for his drink, and his bashful smile grew as you found a table to sit down at.

"thank you, that was very generous of you." he adjusted his glasses, sitting across from you and giving you a brief once-over. "i could have covered it, you know."

"ah, don't worry about it." now that you thought about it, this was the first time that you were spending one-on-one time with him, apart from the rest of the family ... was this really a date, like mabel had said? your face began to heat up at the notion, but you quickly distracted yourself by looking down to fidget with the edge of your sleeve.

feeling the need to break the silence, the silver-streaked man shifted in his seat. "so ... tell me about yourself."

he was clearly showing interest in getting to know you, which was flattering, and somewhat endearing. given his quiet demeanor, it was obvious that socialization was not his strong suit. still, you couldn't deny that he had a certain rugged charm about him.

staring out the window, you thought for a moment, then spoke. "for starters, you know that i'm working on moving into a house." there was another pause as you mulled over your next words. "i'm interested in the strange phenomenons here in gravity falls. i was raised in another state, but my family relocated here while i was in high school. that's what got me curious about certain ... abnormalities." you smiled softly, fixing your gaze onto him. "i think unusual things are wonderful."

stanford was practically slack-jawed, his dark brown eyes shining with the wonder of a child in love. any previous hesitation was completely abandoned.

"why, that's what i've dedicated my life purpose to for years!" his wide shoulders leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to your own. "i've been keeping journals-"

he was interrupted by a barista calling out your name across the café. regretfully, you had to tear your attention from his enthusiasm, standing to go collect your drinks from the counter. for some reason, the thudding of your heart was very loud.

returning to your seat, you put ford's cold brew in front of him before taking a swig of your own drink. he carefully picked up the cup, observing it from a few different angles before raising it to his lips. he took a long sip, then made a low, content hum. "yes ... this is exactly what i needed." you could already see the caffeine revitalizing him. "now, where was i? ah, yes! the journals."

the next hour and a half consisted of him infodumping about the journals and all of the wonderful things he's seen and done. he earned quite a few reactions from you, each of which inflated his ego even further. by the end of his rant, he was on an energetic and emotional high.

the two of you were laughing at some corny one-liner he'd thrown in, and ford leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his broad chest as it heaved with deep chuckles.

"you know, i haven't talked with anyone like this in a while, besides stanley and the kids, of course." a warm smile graced his features. "i'm glad that you invited me here. and ..." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "... i think you're an interesting person. clearly, we share the same passion."

oh, crap. why was he looking at you like that? why was it hot? you could feel yourself slowly losing your composure. why did your type have to be nerds?

"t-thanks. i think you're interesting, too." you blushed, smiling and feeling giddy.

"we should do this again, yes?"

"i would love to."

end (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

author's note:

expect more ford content from me (he's literally my pookie)

also if you give me feedback i love you

if you have any fic ideas, shoot me a request!

[peachsukii]

sweet like honey ꒰ tangled hearts series - kiribaku x fem!reader ꒱ ⇢ you and kirishima organize a small dinner to celebrate bakugo's 31st birthday.

꒰ tags & content ꒱ fluffy & tooth-rotting fluff for kat's birthday ♡ cross posted to ao3 // wc; ~1.1k ✿ tangled hearts masterlist ✿ ↶ | previous entry (twisted in bedsheets) ↷ | next entry (stitched muses)

Trying to plan a surprise was literally impossible in the Kirishima-Bakugo household. The house was always in pristine condition, everything in it's proper place and able to be located without a second thought. If something was moved or used, there was a 95% chance Bakugo would notice, no matter what it was - his favorite spatula, a random mug, and even a specific set of towels in the bathroom. He had the house mapped in his mind down to the last non-existent dust bunny in the foyer.

By some miracle, Bakugo believed Kirishima was taking him out to dinner for his birthday and didn't invite you along. Sure, they needed their time alone together too, but most of the time, Bakugo was the one making sure you were included in their plans. It all worked out in your favor, though. Earlier in the week, you’d texted the both of them to trick Bakugo into thinking you wouldn’t see him Saturday.

the lion, the witch & the gym bro ❤️💖🧡 [you] hey babes! are you guys free saturday for dinner? [katsu 🐯🧡] what kinda fuckin’ group name is that?! i better be the lion [katsu 🐯🧡] and sorry baby, eiji's made plans for us [eiji 🥊❤️] i think it’s cute 😜 [eiji 🥊❤️] sorry love! we can meet up for breakfast on sunday though 💕 [you] that's okay! yes, kats, you're the lion lol. breakfast on sunday it is 💖

Kirishima was fully aware of your plan, ecstatic that you wanted to do something so sweet for Bakugo. He’d told you how all of his past surprise parties had failed for him - he couldn’t keep the excitement to himself and would fold before the party happened. You had to do a little work to be sure he wouldn’t spill the beans this time, too. Nothing a few sweet kisses couldn’t fix, promising to reward him for keeping quiet.

A quick trip to the grocery store and plenty of recipe research later, you had everything you needed to make the dinner. Kirishima mentioned that you’d have about half an hour to set up and get everything ready, so most of the cooking would need to be done in your apartment. It was simple, a mish-mash of his favorites; mapo tofu, cooked salmon with a honey garlic glaze and some grilled vegetables. You thought about using Bakugo’s home grown veggies, but that would have given away the surprise if he saw them go missing that morning.

Cooking went surprisingly easier than you thought it would. Creating the glaze for the salmon was honestly the hardest part, but you're proud of how it looks and smells, the fish cooked with a perfect sear. Your kitchen smells incredible and it's sad that the aroma won't be fully following you to their home.

Just when you're putting everything in the oven to keep warm, you get a text from Kirishima.

[eiji 🥊❤️] we’re leaving the house now! you’re clear to head over in five minutes [you] thanks eiji! i’ll pack up and head over.

When you arrive at their house, you park around the corner to be sure Bakugo doesn't see your car before he goes inside. Your unloading the food onto the kitchen counter when your phone buzzes three times, one from Kirishima and two from Bakugo, outside of your group chat.

[eiji 🥊❤️] headed home, kats is a little grumpy lol. see you in 15!

[katsu 🐯🧡] eiji fucked up our reservation and we're headed home [katsu 🐯🧡] if ya wanna come over. miss you sweets

'Oh, if only he knew,' you thought, smiling to yourself. You don't respond and place your phone back on the counter.

With the food in the oven to warm up, the table set, the lights off, and Bakugo's present on the counter, you were ready for them to walk through the door any moment now. Kirishima warned you that Bakugo was upset, but you're confident his mood will do a 180 once he sees the true plan.

The front door opens, accompanied by shoes hitting the floor and keys hitting the table in the entry way.

"Can't believe they messed up the reservation," you hear Bakugo complain, grumbling to himself. "Stupid ass fancy place can't keep their books straight."

"I know, I'm sorry baby," Kirishima apologizes, looking toward the kitchen to catch your eye. "But I think you'll prefer to be home, anyways."

Bakugo's about to question why when you walk out of the kitchen and into view, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and wearing his favorite pretty black dress.

"Happy birthday, Katsuki! Hope you're hungry, we've got plenty waiting for you."

You're expecting him to burst out laughing, make a snarky comment, or roll his eyes with a smirk on his face, but none of that comes. He stands there, awestruck with a gleam in his carmine stare while his lips curl into a genuine smile.

"You two really did all this for me?" Bakugo asks, looking back and forth between you and Kirishima.

"Of course, Kat. You deserve to be spoiled! Come on, dinner is ready." You take his hand and lead him into the kitchen, pulling out his normal chair at the table. Kirishima follows, helping you prep three plates of food and delivering them to the table. After you place Bakugo's plate down in front of him, he grabs your face and tugs you back into his bubble to kiss you.

"Thank you," he whispers, nuzzling your nose before letting you go. He repeats then sentiment to Kirishima as well, giving him a peck on his forehead before he joins the table. "Both of you."

The three of you devour every bite of dinner - it turned out absolutely fantastic, ending with Bakugo asking you for the recipe you used for the salmon. That's the highest compliment coming from him, knowing that he's going to take the original and hit the ground running with a version of his own.

"One more thing for you, Kats!" you exclaim, grabbing the gift bag from the counter. Bakugo takes the present from you, rustling through the orange tissue paper. When he pulls out the brand new gardening tool kit, including some vegetable and flower seeds, his eyes sparkle with delight.

"I know you more than likely have a set already, but it never hurts to have a back up!"

Bakugo sets the bag on the counter and scoops you into a tight hug.

"Thank you, princess. I appreciate it."

Kirishima struts over, patting him on the back. "Maybe our little goddess here could help you plant the new seeds! Now that you have two sets, you could teach her how you tend to the garden."

"That's a great idea, Red. We can start soon with spring in full swing."

You couldn't be happier with how the day turned out. Seeing Bakugo's smile is all you ever wished for. He was glowing for the rest of the night, giddy over the idea of teaching you all about his gardening ways in the coming weeks.

Safe to say, it was a successful birthday.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — recipe for the salmon cause it made my mouth water! i also wrote this in a frenzy so i hope it still is quality haha ✿ wildflowers; @maddietries @smolbeanzzz @camila2201 @lik0 @pixel4ffecti0n @moonlight-dreamer04 @lumi-cent @pastelbakugou @hannahk @camryn-ciel67 @c4prisuna @perfectsukii @screechingpeachdelusion

[scoops-aboy86]

Epilogue (Secret Admirer pt 10)

The final conclusion! Because there were some loose ends I wanted to tie up. And @hotluncheddie, you got your Polaroids. 😜

wc: 2612 / rated: T / set after season 3 / also on ao3

In the aftermath, they talk. A lot. Especially after Eddie pulls back from their kiss to gasp, “Hell yeah you can be my boyfriend, as long as I get to be yours.”

Eddie tells Steve about how much his life had changed once his dad went to prison and he’d started living with his uncle full time, and how he’d always had trouble trusting good things at first. (Which probably explains some things about the ups and downs of their relationship so far, Steve muses eventually, and Eddie sheepishly can’t help but agree.)

Steve tells Eddie that he likes the trailer a lot actually, because it feels lived-in and well-loved in a way the house he grew up in never quite has. (Which Eddie gets, because Steve had written plenty about how uncomfortable he feels there sometimes, and how he’s never had a voice in choosing the decor or layout in his own bedroom.)

Eddie shows Steve how to roll the weed he bought into pro-quality joints; he’s a good teacher, it turns out, and praises Steve so much as a student that they’re both grinning stupidly at each other well before lighting up together for the first time. 

Steve admits that Robin had spilled the beans about his secret identity. After initially establishing that she wanted to trade the valuable info for something good, the classified information slipping out right after Steve had taken the brunt of the damage at Starcourt (not a lot of details given about that, but it’s fine) seemed fair enough, Eddie can grudgingly agree. And Steve, sweetheart that he is, adds that as soon as she had he’d been struck breathless. He tells Eddie about the loan Robin is giving him and how he’s about to start looking for a place, and that the trailer park is looking more appealing by the minute. 

Eddie explains the nerd stuff he’d spouted off the night before, after manfully holding back on giggling at the garbled version Steve repeats back, and explains what a Shelob is. When it turns out to be from those books that Dustin keeps pestering him to read—which, he now knows, is not exactly the same as The Hobbit. He admits to Eddie that he doesn’t know if he can do books that long; letters are fine, those are only a few pages, but it takes a lot of concentration to stay focused on printed words for that long and, after all the concussions, it tends to give him headaches. Immediately, Eddie starts falling all over himself offering to read to him, promising to do all the voices and “It’ll be just like you’re there in Middle Earth, Stevie, I swear!” Which is cute, and Steve is absolutely going to take him up on that.

For now, he’s content to keep cuddling and talking, with occasional kisses and little squeezes whenever it hits either of them again that this is real, it’s happening. They end up spending the entire day together, haphazardly working together to make breakfast that they share with Eddie’s uncle because, well, they made a racket as well as food and woke the poor man up. Steve is about to fall all over himself apologizing for all of it, for staying over unannounced, for sleeping in his nephew’s bed under his roof which is, like, probably not cool and all… Eddie just snickers next to him while Steve babbles himself into a corner, Robin style, then slips an arm around his waist and says, “Uncle Wayne, this Steve. He drove me home last night, graciously nursed me through the consequences of my most recent poor life choices this morning, and now he’s my boyfriend. Steve, this is Wayne. He’s the best, make sure to pour his coffee in the World’s Best Uncle mug.”

Which Steve does, and Eddie winces a bit when he hands it to Wayne with an overeager, “Here you go, sir!” 

That’s one of his uncle’s pet peeves, being called sir, but he hadn’t thought to give Steve that warning earlier and then suddenly there wasn’t time. On top of that, Wayne doesn’t take kindly to being woken up before his alarm. He’s the best, but he’s also a lifelong bachelor with a regular night shift and a bad back, for all that he refuses to take the bedroom again now that Eddie isn’t a kid anymore.

Still, it could’ve gone worse. Wayne takes the mug with only a mild grumble about keeping it down, which is pretty tame for him. There will be a conversation about this in Eddie’s future, not least of which will probably be a few blunt questions about whether they used protection, because Wayne reads the same news headlines he does and Steve lives on the privileged side of town and still has a lingering reputation of getting around and Wayne doesn’t know him like Eddie does. Which, sure, Eddie has hooked up with other guys, mostly not in the trailer because it’s a shared space and he is acutely aware of how lucky he is to live here at all considering he could’ve stayed a ward of the state if Wayne hadn’t agreed to take him—and with those guys, he definitely put out on the first date. If they could be called dates. He’s going to have to explain to Wayne that Steve is different, that this is a long haul thing and that Eddie trusts him. 

And he kind of can’t wait. 

After breakfast, they hop in Steve’s car and drive out of town and break out the joints they’d rolled, cruising around with the windows down until the high starts to hit Steve and he finds a shady spot to pull over. Somewhere secluded. There’s a blanket in the trunk because of course there is; they spend a few hours out in the middle of nowhere under the trees, smoking and talking more and working their way through the snacks Steve thought to pack before they left the trailer. 

It’s not a first date though, Eddie decides, just like their technical first kiss (that he still doesn’t remember, damn it) wasn’t their First Kiss. One of them has to ask the other on a date. Which, because he’s very brave, he finally does. 

Steve responds by tackling him into the nearby grass and rolling them around in an emphatic yes until they both have green rubbed into their clothes and red bitten into their lips, giddy and laughing and boyfriends, holy shit.

~

Their first official date is a picnic that they each bring their favorites to and share. When Eddie asks Steve in advance what he’s planning on bringing, just to make sure they aren’t, like, putting wildly mismatched levels of effort into this, Steve doesn’t answer. 

He just grins playfully and hisses, “Sssssecretsss,” and waits upwards of thirty seconds while Eddie tries to place why that seems familiar. 

By the time the bottom drops out of Eddie’s brain and he remembers, Steve is already dancing gracefully back from his flailing attempts at a one-sided slap fight, the damn jock. “Steve, get back here! No, you can’t just—You can’t use my own Gollum impression on me and then leave! Where are you going? Steeeeve!”

Next time Sober Eddie sees Drunk Eddie, he’s going to strangle him.

But it’s fine, they both bring their large picnic basket (Steve) and overloaded paper grocery bag that’s so full it has to be carried from underneath rather than by the handles (Eddie) to a hill overlooking the empty fields stretching away from Hawkins at dusk. It turns out they’ve both brought lemon bars for dessert, and spend a good ten minutes playfully bickering over whose are better until it ends with sticky, powdered sugar kisses and murmured agreement to exchange recipes. 

Which means Eddie is going to have to beg the recipe off of old Mrs. Anderson a few trailers down, who is always happy to bake for folks as long as they provide the ingredients. But hey, those lemon bars are worth it. And, obviously, so is Steve.

~

Their second date is a movie night with Robin, who immediately introduces herself as, “Hi, I’m a lesbian and Steve’s unlikely best friend forever, so that makes us friends-in-law. You cool with that? Because if not, we’re about to have a problem.” 

It’s not a problem. Eddie had a decent opinion of her before and likes her immediately based on that opening shot alone. They quickly settle into a friendly argument about movie genres while Steve sits back, beaming at both of them with a happiness almost rivaling that first morning of being boyfriends. 

Not quite, but almost. 

And after, when Steve comes back after dropping Robin off at home, he leads the way to Eddie’s bedroom with a finger looped through a belt loop on the metalhead’s ripped jeans and proceeds to test out some of the things Eddie had described in his letters. Apparently going down on a girl and giving a guy head aren’t as different as Eddie would’ve thought, because Steve only needs a little guidance on what to do (or not do) with his teeth, but when it comes to fingers, lips, and tongue? Twenty out of ten, Eddie has no notes. 

He barely has a brain by the time Steve is done with him. Not that he needs it to tug his perfect, rosy-lipped, keyed-up boyfriend up to show him what a musician’s hands can really do. 

~

Wayne takes a bit longer to come around to Steve. A chance comment about some sportsball game or other gets them talking and… suddenly Eddie might not be Wayne’s favorite anymore. 

Not really, he knows somewhere behind the ridiculous grin he’s wearing, because his uncle is nothing if not loyal. Eddie’s never been interested in that stuff, and he finds watching them bond over it incomprehensible yet fascinating.

At least, until Wayne gets up to dig out the old scrapbook, saying, “Think I’ve still got some photos of the summer Ed here tried to play T-ball.” Then Eddie jumps up and hustles a very amused Steve the hell out of there, insisting that they have a schedule to keep to and Wayne is gumming up the works. 

“Aw, but Eddie, I wanted to see,” Steve teases, pretending to brace himself in the front doorway while Eddie pretends to bodily shove him through it. 

“Next time,” Wayne promises with a self-satisfied air. He never gets to do this, none of Eddie’s friends have ever shown this kind of interest and god knows he’s never brought anyone he’s attempting to date around to meet his uncle—not that there’s ever been anyone who fell in that category, before Steve. 

“Never,” Eddie hisses, trying to sound threatening. And fails, mostly because he’s busy goosing Steve to get him through the door and laughing about the affectionately affronted look it gets him. 

~

Both Eddie and Robin come with Steve when he looks for a place, and a very pleasantly surprised Eddie pays up the five dollars he owes her when by the end of the summer Steve really does pick a small trailer on the other side of Forest Hills. And sure, Steve kind of de facto shares it with one of his kids—Billy Hargrove’s little step-sister, whose mom Eddie only really saw around while they were moving in across from the Munsons, so. Yeah. But Mad Max is a cool kid, and doesn’t give them shit for being so close. He knows that Steve has always wanted younger siblings, and that one’s just the temperamental tip of the iceberg.

Which is cool, because it sounds like the boys are shoe-ins for Hellfire and Eddie has a binder full of half-formed one-shot ideas that he’s itching to whip out and take for a spin. A sentiment that, when he mentions it to Steve, somehow ends up earning him his first chance to prove just how good with his hands he can be. 

And after, when Steve shyly opens up about the six little nuggets in a Winnebago daydream he’s had ever since his parents started leaving him alone more and more often, the collection of mildly feral younger teens makes sense. They lay on the double mattress liberated from the Harrington house—currently on the floor because Steve is determined to make himself a new bed frame, the crazy bastard—with sweat cooling on bare skin and Steve’s gay cherry well and thoroughly popped in every way either of them could think of, Eddie realizes something. 

Steve’s new room features zero plaid. The curtains match nothing, not even themselves, because he let Robin pick them out and she got a little whimsical with it. There are a few band posters—some of the bands Eddie covered for his second mix tape to Steve (which he know knows was the catalyst for them getting their shit together, even though he still doesn’t really remember that part), and one of the Corroded Coffin posters that Eddie designed himself—and some movie posters that Steve can get for free once Family Video is done with them. 

Mostly, though, it’s Polaroids: of Steve and Eddie, Steve and Robin, Steve and the kids, and various other combinations. 

Eddie never expected any of this to turn out the way it had. Hadn’t felt worthy of Steve, who has generally floated through life surrounded by the finer things and white picket fence dreams. It had never occurred to him that Steve didn’t care about having nice things, he wanted nice things. Kind, supportive, good things, regardless of what they looked like on the outside. Things that make him happy. 

And the handful of candid photos Eddie took of himself for when, for whatever reason, their schedules don’t line up? He knows those make Steve very happy because they have pride of place, tucked secretly between the mattress and the wall by the head of the bed. 

~

Life is great, which is saying something considering they’re still in Hawkins, Indiana. 

Eddie’s van is all fixed—the auto shop even offered him a part-time job because he’d identified the problem just fine, just hadn’t had the equipment to fix it on his own. The guys in the band are coming around to the idea that King Steve is actually kind of a dork underneath it all, helped in part by the many, many, many stories that Dustin, Lucas, and even Mike have unloaded on them before and after the summer one-shots that constitute their trial period in Hellfire as incoming freshman. He’s got Robin, who’s sworn to be his study buddy until, as she’d once cheerfully put it, either Eddie graduates or they strangle each other. 

But mostly, he gets to be Steve Harrington’s boyfriend. They sleep at Steve’s more often than not, letting Wayne have the actual mattress instead of that shitty old cot, falling asleep tangled together and waking up the same way. (Sometimes Steve still has nightmares, still occasionally radios Robin in the middle of the night on the walkies the kids gave them—Eddie doesn’t ask, just holds Steve when he needs it. He’s letting Steve come around to telling him what happened in his own time. Even though Steve keeps assuring him, so earnest it’s a little disconcerting, that “it’s over.”)

1985 had some major ups and downs. He wouldn’t trade any of it for the world, but this coming one is going to be different. He’ll start it with a boyfriend and, goddamn it, he will finish it having finally snatched his diploma and flipping Principal Higgins the bird. From there, who knows! 

He just knows one thing’s for sure… 1986 is going to be his year.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @steviewashere @cryingglightningg @theresebelivett

@sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @swimmingbirdrunningrock

@yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites @ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr

@cheesedoctor @whalesharksart @thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging

@imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva @nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson

@greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister @dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck

@pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16 @bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich

@the-tenth-mus-e

[lunarcloak]

Musing about the parallels between Kaiser and Sae right now. Kind of makes me even more curious.

On one hand you have Sae, who has been playing soccer as early as he's had memories at all. On the other you have Kaiser who started playing at 15, literally one of, if not The oldest beginning we've seen. (Sae, who probably stopped playing as a striker around the age of 15-17, and Kaiser who just started then.)

One of the things Sae likes about himself, according to the Egoist Bible, is the fact that he can "view things neutrally/without an unbiased perspective". In other words, he values his ability to view things objectively. Kaiser's hobby is psychology and philosophy, because he's "interested in seeing how people tick/the principles of human behaviour". In other words, Kaiser likes seeing the bias in humans, while Sae appreciates his ability to not be biased.

Sae's favourite animal is a gull, because he likes migratory birds that don't stay in one place. Kaiser's favourite animals are stray dogs-- Stray dogs that scavenge for food, live completely independently, and have no real home to return to. The ideal behind them is similar.

Then there's simple stuff. Metallic blue, red bean.

Kaiser's name meaning "god's chosen emperor", and Sae, who's nickname is "Japan's greatest treasure." You see?

Kaiser, who does everything to forget about his house and his family, and Sae, who likes Chibi Maruko-chan because it reminds him of his home. Sae, who gazes out at the sea because it reminds him of his home.

"Desperado" by Eagles has some great lyrics for Kaiser, no wonder that is his favourite song. In the Egoist Bible it also mentions that Sae's favourite song is "Suisei" by tofubeats Ft. Kariya Seira. Again, those lyrics are perfect for him.

Tch. KaiSae parallels. I need them to interact, Kaneshiro, PLEASE--

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

you are keeping us well fed with the disabled!reader poolverine storyline tysm <3

The older boys, once fed and walked settled in with their devices. Content to play games with Wade and annoy you. The younger, Logan noted, velcroed himself to your side. Wanting to be held, wanting to be snuggled. And you were more than happy to do it.

He didn't want to rough house. When the livingroom devolved into a baby cage match, he brought you a book. Clamoring into your lap. And the two men traded a look.

You gathered him up, kissing the side of his head and just started reading. No questions or protests. And even the Older boys, drawn in by their own memories of story time made their way over with pillows to sprawl on. Settling in with their phones.

They felt a pang. You wouldn't get your own babies to cuddle, but it was pretty clear that the kids that you did get to love knew you were safe in your house. Making themselves at home. All day, they hadn't hesitated to get a snack or tease you. They never flinched at what Wade looked like or Logan's brooding. They knew your world was different even if they didn't know how exactly.

When Ronnie, the youngest dozed off you held him for a little bit before wiggling out and letting him lay on the couch and throwing a blanket over him. "Looks like I should start figuring out dinner, huh?"

"Pizza?" Zach, the oldest put in.

"You got, pizza money, homie?" you ask, leaning on the back of his chair, "Because I got 'works for the state' money and that will not order pizza for you three heathens."

"Aww man-"

"I do have mac and cheese stuff and some smoked susage and green beans, though," you muse.

"But is there extra cheese?" Zach asked.

"Do I look like your mother?"

He grinned and you ruffled his hair, heading to the kitchen to go start cooking and he followed you. Logan listened with half an ear, he knew a kid looking for a pep talk when he saw one.

And when he leaned against your shoulder and you rested your head on his for a second, Logan smiled a little. evidently you did too. "What's wrong, bug?"

"Nothing-"

"Uh-huh."

Zach huffed and you just waited, filling a pot with water and bustling around. "I just- mom's got me signed up for so much shit- and like, why?"

"Mostly because your grandma did it to us," you muse. "And also because she doesn't want you to turn out like us- mostly me."

Zach gave you a look and you smile a little. "I spent an absurd amount of time trying to be someone I wasn't baby. I just... Don't care about cars and having a big ass house. I don't WANT the life they mapped out for me. And even if I DID, I'm not sure I could even do it."

He watched you work for a second and looked at his brothers before looking back at you. "I used to try. And I'm not saying you shouldn't. But. Give yourself some grace... And as hard as it can be, give your mom some grace. She loves you."

He snorted and you crinkle your nose. "She does. Even if she doesn't show it like we want her to- Remember. She ALSO had to survive our parents and live to tell about it."

Zach shook his head, "Grandma is unhinged, dude."

"And she mellowed out once Dad started slipping her Klonopin. So. Imagine what she was like BEFORE that."

"Ugh." Zach shuddered and you nudged him out of your way handing him a soda with a laugh.

[iris-qt]

𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖

☕️ ʙʟᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴢᴀʙɪɴɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☕️ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

☕️ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

☕️ ᴀ/ɴ: ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰɪᴄ ɪᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴀʀ

☕️ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʙʟᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴢᴀʙɪɴɪ ꜱᴛᴜᴍʙʟᴇꜱ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇᴜᴍ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ…ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ꜰᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

“Order for Blaise..er Zucchini?”

Blaise scoffed, rolling his eyes as the frazzled ginger barista in that muggle café tarnished his name. He strode up to the counter, grabbing his nightly cup of coffee.

“Cool name, man,” the barista said, and Blaise couldn’t help but think he bore an uncanny resemblance to Ron Weasley. Don’t be silly, Blaise. Not all gingers look the same. 

Blaise answered him with a disdainful look and walked off, into the cold winter air. Winter break from Hogwarts was great and all; aside from the fact his father forced him to intern at the Ministry. He had just finished his shift and was in much need of some coffee. As difficult as it was for him to admit, muggles sure knew how to brew some nice, strong coffee. Bitter and pure black bean juice. Just the way he liked it.

His black woolen trench coat billowed around him as he braved the winter wind, finally entering back into wizarding London. He walked down the usual high streets, sipping his scalding hot coffee every now and then. Of course Blaise could just apparate home, but why would he be in any rush to return? He’d already spent all day at the Ministry doing his father’s tedious, excruciating paperwork and his return back home would simply include interrogation from his father about the manner in which he completed the paperwork.

Work, work, and more work. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

He detoured to the wide luxury streets filled with shops selling the most high-brand robes and cloaks. Looking around, Blaise passed the vast marble building known to be the largest wizard art museum. Domus Artium. Latin for The House of Arts. There was a small line of well-dressed witches and wizards milling about and making their way in. Upon closer inspection to a giant plastered poster, there was some sort of art curator and historian event occurring. 

Blaise couldn’t stop his curiosity and made his way inside…

Moving art as far as the eye could see. Nighttime is when the portraits no longer have to stay in their own frames and act polite to the museum’s visitors. Night is when they could run free and visit their friends in a frame in another wing. He’d never been to this museum despite living so close. His family only valued art when it served to display their wealth and power.

He strode inside, aware he was not invited, but it wasn’t his fault the man in charge of the guests that came in was too busy talking up some older woman. Plus, he was Blaise Zabini. What were they going to do? Kick him out? Laughable.

He was walking down the corridor which contained a few people observing the paintings. Looking behind him to make sure he was clear, he rounds the corner and runs into someone, yelping as his coffee flies into the air.

The person he ran into expertly flicks their wand and freezes the coffee in midair, returning it back to the cup and the cup back in Blaise’s outstretched hand.

“Are you supposed to be here?” you smirk, slightly surprised at Zabini’s presence at your gallery. He straightens his black formal shirt and gazes warily at you.

“Y/L/N..uh yes..I’m a huge art enthusiast,” he scratches the back of his head as you lean in teasingly, taking in his familiar expensive scent. Was that black cherry? You could never puzzle it out. You mused at his slightly panicked expression. You had a knack for always catching Blaise at his worst moments. 

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite art piece in this gallery?”

Blaise, however, found you absolutely infuriating. Such a know-it-all. He thought the worst part about it was that you acted so clueless and normal…then you pounced with your genius knowledge. Absolutely infuriating. Everything about you. From your perfectly styled hair to your little uniform you were wearing that just so happened to accentuate every possible curve…

He shook his head. No way he was falling prey to your witchy charms. He’d never be caught dead.

“That’s quite a difficult question. So many pieces come to mind.”

“Oh I’m sure,” you smile, biting back a louder laugh at this piece of gorgeous free entertainment that just waltzed into your domain.

“I suppose the one with the ballerinas.”

“I sure hope you’re not talking about that one painting on the History of Magic O.W.L. exam last year?”

He sighs, realizing there was no way in hell he’d get past you. Well, he wasn’t quite sure how you were here in the first place. He wasn’t aware you held any high place in society.

“Don’t you think dressing up as a museum curator to sneak in seems a bit desperate?” he smirks, looking you up and down in your formal uniform, flicking your little name tag. 

“For your information, Zabini, I work here on breaks,” you dramatically spread out your arms, grinning “welcome to my crib.” 

He scoffs in response. “You expect me to just believe you got a flexible job at an esteemed place such as this?”

“My family owns this place, genius.”

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. Surely he’d know if you held such a high place in society.

“Merlin, you don’t know anything about art do you, Zabini? Not even my family name?”

He averts his eyes. There’s nothing he hated more than admitting he was wrong or didn’t know something. That’s precisely why he found you so frustrating for he was always somehow in the wrong when it came to you.

To his surprise, and to yours as you’re not sure where this burst of confidence came from, you grabbed his hand and began leading him down a darkened corridor, blocked off by a sign that said ‘DO NOT ENTER’. His hand was cold from the harsh winds outside and you grasped it, hoping he would find some warmth in you. Blaise was someone you’d always felt content with. He wasn’t intimidated by you nor was he avoidant. He resisted every teasing comment and challenging situation you threw at him. He was insanely stubborn and arrogant. And you lived for it. His little frustrated faces and his neverending efforts to upend you. You could spend the rest of your life doing that with this man that was now in your grasp.

“Perhaps you need another set of eyes because that sign clearly advised us not to submerge ourselves in this dark hall,” Blaise deadpanned, attempting to hide the shiver of excitement your touch brought him. You were warm and he had to fight the urge to bury his ice cold nose in your neck. Thank Merlin it was pitch black so you couldn’t see his flustered expression.

With a mutter of a spell, the entire room you had led them into lit up. The floating candles burst with warm flames, dancing along the walls, as some of the remaining figures in the portraits grumbled as they awoke. 

“My apologies, Hecate,” you muttered to a painting of the powerful ancient Greek goddess of magic who was glaring at you from her lounge chair.

Blaise couldn’t help but be in awe of the various paintings lining the walls. Of course the walls of Hogwarts were littered with various paintings, but none as skillfully made as these.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” you leaned your elbow on Blaise’s shoulder simply to fluster him, looking up at his sculpted, ethereal face. Merlin, if you took Blaise to the marble statue portion of the museum, it wouldn’t be hard to observe the godly resemblance between statue and Zabini.

“I can’t believe I’ve never visited this place..” Blaise mutters under his breath, gazing in awe at the various works of art. This beautiful building was just a few blocks from his penthouse home, and he could not believe he had never stepped foot inside. He knew now that he could get lost in here for hours among the art.

And that’s precisely what you and Blaise did. You slowly made your way around the room, stopping at the plaques so Blaise could read the information and facts about the paintings. You’d already memorized most of them, so you took the time to study his gorgeous face. Hours went by as the clock waned down to the wee hours of 3 am. Sharing in little quips and jokes, Blaise became aware of why he always found you so fascinating. Why he ceased to be interested in anyone else from his first moments with you. You were so passionate and beautiful as they circled the various rooms of the vast museum. He loved standing, observing the paintings, while being shoulder to shoulder with you. Heart coming to life at the slightest touch.

The sleepless night brought a sense of delirium as you couldn’t contain your laughter. You and Blaise walked around, tripping over each other, giggling like little maniacs at the silliest things. Distant noises, certain paintings, gossip that Blaise oh so loved to share,

“Is it just me, or does that troll resemble Crabbe?” You gestured, snickering, toward a painting of an Icelandic troll, who was kicking a rotted tree stump.

“What? I assumed that was a self portrait?” Blaise burst into yet another fit of laughter 

A nearby cherub began playing its harp, the melancholy music reverberating around the circular marble room. The candles twinkled, wax dripping down and evaporating into twinking magic before they could fall any further. The crescent moon was visible from the domed glass ceiling, and as you looked up, Blaise gazed at the moon reflected in your smiling eyes. In a trance, he watched you; a goddess in the moonlight.

“Earth to Zabini?” you waved your hand in front of his face, laughing softly at his dazed expression.

On a whim, Blaise held out his silver ring-clad hand; slender fingers reaching for yours in the atmosphere of the ethereal harp music.

“May I have this dance?” he said, smirking his smitten smirk.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his cheesy grin but, of course, take this beautiful man’s hand anyway, his rings cold to the touch. 

He gently held your hand as he sweeped you around the candlelit room; eyes meeting under the twinkling flames. Blaise’s deep eyes, usually cold, melted like milk chocolate at the sight of you twirling. He held you as gently as if you were a fractured ancient statue. As if you could break at a touch. He never wanted this moment to end. He never wanted to leave your museum. He could stay here forever. 

The moment ended and the both of you broke apart. The cherub in the painting ceased to play its harp with one last, hauntingly beautiful note. Blaise couldn’t help but gaze upon you in the dim light. He couldn’t help but realize that this was the most magical day of his life. And he’s literally a wizard. You leaned in and hugged him tight, face buried in his chest. You never wanted this to end. You wanted to be held in his arms forever. But alas every moment must end, as your aunt briskly walked into the room, her echoing footsteps warning you fast enough to pull apart before she could see. She looked frazzled, holding a small piece of parchment.

“Y/n...Mr. Zabini what are you doing in my museum?” She looked slightly angry.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” You walked up to her, looking nervous at her unusually negative expression.

“Mr. Zabini’s father has sent me a letter stating that witnesses saw his son walk in here and it looks like they were not incorrect,” she glares at you. “Do you know what time it is, Y/N? Its 4am. Why would you sneak him in here?”

“Auntie, calm down. We just lost track of time..”

“Lost track of time?? Do you know what his father could do to our museum? With one bad review in the Daily Prophet we could be practically shut down. We’re definitely on his bad side now…” your aunt muttered, hiding her face in her hands.

Blaise walks up and addresses your aunt “Mrs. Y/L/N, I assure you this was all my own fault. I was curious to see what event was going on and got distracted by your wonderful collection of art. I deeply apologize and I shall profusely inform my father this is my own doing and ensure your museum will not be bashed in the Daily Prophet. My job is to overlook the writing my father sends out anyway,” he warmly smiles at her.

After she walks away, convinced and apologizing for her outburst, you turn to Blaise, folding your arms teasingly.

“Looks like you were out past your bedtime, Zabini.”

He scoffs fondly, taking your waist in his arms again, leaning his head on you. You couldn’t help but blush as that, averting your confident gaze much to Blaise’s amusement.

“You work here everyday during this break, right?”

“Mhm.”

He grins widely, his gorgeous chocolate skin breaking into smile lines that you had to fight the urge to kiss.

“I’ll be visiting everyday for…research purposes,” he winks dramatically and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’d be more than happy to assist you on your research endeavors, Blaise.”

“Perfect, because I’ll be specifically requesting you,” he whispers, gaze averting to your lips.

You lean up to reach his perfect lips and they connect, a flame brighter than all the candles on the ceiling igniting within the both of you. 

[thegreyjoyed]

GirlDad!Ghost and LovingHusband!Ghost

In honor of my pookie pie Swiss

Fem!user (aka you’re referred to as ‘wife’, ‘you’ and ‘his girls’ are used and stuff)

The familiar sound of ‘Careless Whisper by George Michael’ is playing rather loudly from the TV in the living room, Simon quietly entered the foyer, taking his shoes off and setting his bags down onto the ground, creeping into the stretch of the house where he could see the dining room, the kitchen and you.

Simon leaned against the wall, his other two girls must’ve been in the living room because he could hear them screeching the lyrics to ‘Careless Whisper’. You were making dinner while dancing, stirring.. something and laughing at your daughters.

Simon was perfectly content to just watch his family as they sang and danced- well, your two daughters singing and you dancing. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, finally getting noticed, “Ah! Si! You’re home, hi! I missed you.” You said with a big smile, setting the mixing bowl down as you walked over and pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Hi lovie, jammin’ out to careless whisper?” The man teased softly, his British accent clear as he hugged you back, a kiss pressed back to your lips and then another pressed to your temple.

“Maybe.” You mused back, a soft flush against your skin as you went back to mixing and cooking. Simon walked over to his two daughters who noticed him almost immediately. Your eldest- Sierra, who was 16 and obviously a daddy’s girl, got up quickly to hug her dad, greeting him with a smile.

Daphne got up as well, hugging him with a smile to him. Daphne was only 12, and also the youngest. The song changed after a few more seconds, now some other random song as the two girls sat back down on the couch.

Simon shook his head and chuckled as he pulled out two wine glasses, he set them both down before finding his and your favorite wine, carefully pouring it out, giving one glass to you after you finally finished running around the kitchen.

You picked up the wine and smiled, “Thanks, Si.” You said softly as you sipped the wine, the two of you moved to lean against the counter and each other, a strong arm wrapped around your middle to tug you closer.

“I love you.” Simon crooned into your ear as he sipped the wine, soon after a lengthy and rather weird conversation about what tree they would think each other were.

Simon ended up being an Oak tree and you ended up a Great Basin Bristlecone Pine. You weren’t sure what that was, searched it up, got jokingly offended and asked Simon if he was calling you old and how he even knew what that tree was.

Simon had to explain that Johnny(or soap), had gone on a three hour ramble of trees because Daphne of all people- had taught Johnny, about trees. Simon had also included in a more hushed tone that Johnny called him an ‘old fart’ with an amused chuckle.

You shook your head and laughed alongside him. “Daph! Mind telling Uncle J not to be an ass? Text him for me. You can use ass.” You called, getting your youngest’s attention easily.

“Alright! Sent, Mom!” Daphne called in response, not even five minutes later, Simon gets a call. ‘Johnny’ with the stupidest picture of him as the contact name.

“Your little lassie, Daphy jus’ called me an arse!” Johnny’s very Scottish and very offended voice came through loudly from the phone. “Oh I know.” Simon mused, “The hell ya mean ya know?!” Johnny crowed in response, “She was allowed to cuss. Now goodnight Johnny.” Simon said, quickly hanging up, chuckling.

You smiled and shook your head, finally collecting dinner and playing it all for the two girls, a husband and yourself. A good ol’ fashioned dinner. A casserole, pork, rice, green beans, corn, dinner roles- made all by you throughout the day.

Of course, everyone had a little of everything, eating happily and talking about school, drama.. life in general. You and your husband were both amused as Sierra talked about drama going on in her highschool.

Apparently, in the drama there was two girls who fought over this guy- the guy liked both.. the girls hated each other, they fought, got real hissy pissy about it, punching, scratching, kicking, pulling hair, playing dirty. Not really as much of a fight as it was a scrap.

Simon was throughly amused by it though and chuckled, Daphne thought it was a little funny too, poking fun as Sierra spoke.

You smiled and asked questions- needing context of course- you received some.. half-assed context, which you let slide of course.

When everyone was done, they all helped put everything away, leftovers got packed up, Simon shoved more food into his face after both Sierra and Daphne didn’t finish the rice and corn they had.

You let a long sigh out as both Daphne and Sierra finally went to their respective rooms. You and Simon went to your rooms. Simon tugged you closer into his chest, kissing at your face as you both cuddled into bed, putting on some random movie.

You snuggled into Simon, saying ‘I love you’ and ‘good night’, getting a mirrored- more sleepy response from Simon.

[jae-bummer]

Am I Too Much?

Request: hi hi i hope ur having a great day! can i possibly request a #5 with svt seungkwan or a #6 with svt jeonghan? thank u!

Prompt:

6) "If you do that one more time, I don't think I'll be able to control myself."

Prompt list can be found HERE.

Pairing: Svt Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Steamy

.

The morning shone grey through the large windows bordering the bulk of the living room you had crashed in last night. You had woken with a start, immediately grabbing your phone and checking the time. 4 AM, perfect, just what you were aiming for.

Sitting up and yawning, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and began to trudge toward the kitchen. Your sole purpose this morning was to make a cake for Vernon and DK. The boys had been so busy over the past month that no one had even been able to stop for a breath and do a proper celebration. Granted, today likely wouldn't be a proper celebration either seeing as how everyone had early schedules, but you were determined to do something. They were both incredibly special and caring friends, and you wanted to recognize that.

Flipping up the light switch, you let out a small squeak. Sitting on the island in the kitchen was a steaming, hot cup of coffee. It was even in the mug you tended to favorite but thought no one had noticed.

"What?" you muttered, walking farther into the room. After really looking around, you observed that not only was there a cup of coffee prepared, but all of the ingredients/tools you would need were set out as well.

Had a kitchen fairy come in the night to assist you with your noble task?

Sidling up to the counter, you picked up the mug and relished the feeling of having something warm between your fingers. You closed your eyes before sniffing the blend and sighing.

"I used the Brazilian beans we picked up on tour," a sleepy voice croaked from the hallway.

Spinning slowly, careful not to spill your coffee, you locked eyes with a thoroughly sleep deprived Jeonghan.

"Why are you awake?" you asked, furrowing your brow. You knew Jeonghan, and you knew he valued his sleep above most things.

"When I was coming in last night, I heard you talking to Coups about your plans for this morning," he said calmly. You now noticed he held a cup in between his palms as well. "I thought about how happy it would make the members, but it made me sad to think about you up so early doing things all alone."

"Jeonghan," you pouted. Motioning to the stool pulled up to the counter, you draped the blanket that was on your shoulders on its seat. "Please sit."

"I said it made me sad, I didn't say it made me want to stay," he said, a smirk quirking at the corner of his lips.

"Alright, welp. Just go back to sleep then."

"Well, I'm awake now," he said, rolling his eyes and moving toward the stool you had just offered.

"Like that's stopped you before?" you asked, situating yourself in front of the ingredients. You set your cup down and began cracking eggs. "I don't want to put you out."

Picking up on your sarcasm, Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. "Being your assistant sounds like a charitable compromise."

"A charitable compromise," you scoffed. "How kind!"

"I thought so," he sighed, evidently pleased with himself.

"Even though you're a brat." You began to dump the mix into the bowl. "I really do appreciate you getting up and doing this."

"Do you though?" he mused. "Because calling someone who helped you a brat doesn't quite hold the sentiment you're going for."

"Yoon Jeonghan," you said, trying to school your features. "You are the ray of sun on this grey morning. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

"I suppose that'll do," he smiled, taking a long sip of what you thought was tea. "But would a little more sincerity kill you?"

"I am going to kill you if you do not stop harassing me," you grumbled, pointing the mixing spoon in his direction.

"Harassment is such a strong word, Y/N," he hummed. "In this house, we call it constructive criticism."

You let out an unexpected laugh. "Has anyone ever told you that you're too much?"

"What do you mean? I'm a joy," he grinned. "Now tell me, what exactly are you making?"

"Just a chocolate box mix," you sighed. "I don't really have time to go all Great British Bakeoff this morning."

Now that all the ingredients were added, all that was left was to stir. You did so quietly for a few minutes before realizing that Jeonghan had stopped talking. Assuming he may have started to nap on the counter instead, you looked up, surprised to find him watching what you were doing.

Looking back down, you ran a finger along the edge of the batter before popping it into your mouth. It had been ages since you had cake of any kind, let alone batter. Pulling your hand away, you let out a small sigh before closing your eyes and smiling.

"If you do that one more time, I don't think I'll be able to control myself."

Opening your eyes instantly, they darted in alarm to Jeonghan. Sure, Jeonghan had always playfully flirted with you, but that was just your relationship. He had never made a comment like that before.

He looked smug as you searched his face. It was hard to gauge how serious he was and what exactly he meant by the statement.

"I-uh," you stumbled, attempting to come up with a suitable response.

Before any words managed to escape, Jeonghan slid from his chair and began slowly sauntering over to you. Maintaining eye contact the entire time, he walked to the side of the counter, cementing you to the spot.

Ever so slowly he looked down, sticking his finger into the bowl too, and pulling it out, now covered in batter.

"I'm trying to cut out sugar," he whispered, putting his finger into his mouth.

Your heart dropped to your toes. He was fucking with you.

"Jeonghan," you groaned, reaching up and rubbing your forehead.

He pulled his digit from his mouth with a pop and grinned. "Yes?"

You just shook your head, grabbing a hold of the mixing spoon and placing it in your mouth as you reached for the cake pans. Moving them in front of you, you pulled out the wooden spoon and tossed it into the sink. You looked casually over to Jeonghan who had put all of his attention suddenly on your mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've...you've got," he hummed, furrowing his brows.

Chocolate. Right.

Reaching up self-consciously, you swiped at either corner of your mouth. "Did I get it?"

"Stay still," he directed, walking over to where you were standing. Turning your back to the counter, you watched as Jeonghan positioned himself in front of you. "Right there."

Reaching up with his thumb, you felt his soft finger brush against the edge of your mouth, an area certain you had wiped before.

Your lips popped open in a combination of horror and arousal. You felt like you were in a drama as Jeonghan noted the chocolate now transferred to his finger before placing it in his mouth. Afterwards, he leaned forward, setting his palms against the counter on either side of you. "Am I still "too much"?"

"Yes," you muttered, feeling your face turn hot.

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Because you're being ridiculous," you said, your words barely a whisper.

"Ridiculously attractive?" he hummed. "Ridiculously charming? Please, finish your sentence."

"It is far too early in the morning for this," you groaned, closing your eyes. When you opened them again, you immediately attempted to move backwards but were halted by the counter. Jeonghan had moved his face only a hair's breadth away from yours.

"I don't think so," he whispered, placing a soft, ghost of a kiss on your lips. Leaning back slightly, he waited to see your reaction.

You reached up, moving your fingertips along your bottom lip, unsure of what had just occurred. Heat flooded your body as you realized, whatever it was, you liked it.

Seeing the recognition on your face made Jeonghan smile. This time when he moved forward, you weren't taken aback.

Throwing most of his body weight against you as he enclosed you against the island, his lips were quick to find yours again. Pressing into the kiss, you felt surrounded by all things Jeonghan. His scent, his taste; your senses were overloaded in the best way. His kisses were lazy, lacking any urgency or need. He knew he already had you and you weren't going anywhere.

Moving your hand to his jaw, you faltered for a moment, pressing gently on his face to push him away. "Jeonghan," you said softly against his lips. It took another try before your words caught his full focus.

"Hm?" he whimpered, moving from your mouth and to the tiny spot underneath your ear.

"The cake," you said regretfully. "We have to finish the cake."

"You can finish the cake," he hummed, taking your hips and spinning you around. His mouth was on your neck again. "I can assist from behind."

"Jeonghan!" you giggled.

"Alright," he muttered moving his face away from your body, but still holding tight to your hips. "How long does it need to bake for?"

"I dunno, like twenty-five minutes?" you guessed, having already thrown the box away.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he said, amusement tinting his words. "Hurry and put the cakes in the oven so I can have a full twenty-five minutes of your lips."

You laughed. "And after that?"

"They'll still eat it if it burns a little."

[renthony]

Some recs for adult animation I enjoy:

People always seem to think I only watch kids' shows, so here's a list of animated television shows I adore, that were all made with adults in mind:

King of the Hill - Genuinely didn't think I'd like it, but I actually really love it? I expected something that was basically just The Simpsons or Family Guy, but got a surprising amount of emotional depth from the main cast. Bobby Hill is my son boy.

Futurama - I am legally obligated to list Futurama. I have watched the entire series so many fucking times. I'm going to watch the reboot and we all know it.

Disenchantment - It's more than just "Futurama medieval fantasy" but tonally, they are pretty similar. I enjoy it immensely. Bean is a #bicon, and that's fucking canon <3

Samurai Jack - The original show aired as a kids' show, but the revival apparently put it into the adult category. I haven't gotten that far yet, but holy shit, it's so good so far. Even the "kids' show" part is pretty mature, imho.

Bob's Burgers - I fucking love Bob's Burgers. I need to catch up on the more recent seasons. A sitcom that DOESN'T have parents who clearly hate each other? Whaaaat?

Harley Quinn - I'm not caught up, and there are aspects I have critiques of, but overall, it's been fun as fuck. I LOVE this interpretation of Ivy so fucking much.

Metalocalypse - My dad's a metal musician, so this was on in my house all the time when I was a teenager. I haven't watched it in *years* but I still reference the early seasons in conversation constantly. The Duncan Hills will wake you, motherfuckers.

Big Mouth/Human Resources - They are better than you think they are, and the "ugly style" reminds me of classic Klasky-Csupo. Compare it to Rugrats and tell me it doesn't have similar caricature styles. Story-wise, it nails the exact blend of panicked awkwardness I felt as a disaster tween, it has SO MANY queer characters. They dramatically improved on their more problematic aspects after getting called on it in seasons 1 and 2. And Human Resources made me sob like a little baby in the episode with Kieth from Grief.

BoJack Horseman - Starts off as a goofy gross-out humor sitcom but very quickly becomes a serious drama. Incredibly heavy and dark, but holy shit the catharsis. Delves into a lot of musings about morality, celebrity culture and Hollywood, generational trauma, and the perpetuation of cycles.

Tuca & Bertie - Goofy slice-of-life about characters navigating their 30s. Lots of musings about family, trauma, sexual abuse, queer dating in your 30s, friendship, and trying to survive it all. I relate so fucking much to the main cast.

Magical Girl Friendship Squad - It's a magical girl cartoon about milennials. Their magical girl weapons are birth control pills and a bong. It's fucking amazing. I'm really sad nobody else seems to have heard of it. :(

Little Demon - Sitcom about the Devil's daughter. Unsure if it's going to get a season 2, since it's about to get taken completely off of Hulu. Still worth watching if you can, because it's so fucking good. Centers on a teenage girl navigating Being A Teenage Girl while also dealing with her dad being the Devil and her mom being a traumatized mess who's figuring her own shit out.

Q-Force - The advertising did this show so fucking dirty. It was genuinely fucking funny, and it was clearly made with love. This isn't straight people making fun of us, this is queer people making queer comedy. Watch it.

Arcane - Arcane's politics are all over the place and I am in my "Silco Was Right" corner, which is right next to the "Magneto Was Right" clubhouse. But goddamn, the animation is gorgeous and the story is intense.

The Legend of Vox Machina - I haven't watched Critical Role, so I can say with confidence that this show is fucking amazing even if you have zero interest in the original gameplay streams. Fantasy animation for grownups, where they can show blood and titties, my beloved. <3

[tinycoded360]

Jack and the Beanstalk One-shot

Author note: You gotta do the Beanstalk story at least once, lol. My own spin and twist on a classic giant/tiny story. 

The sun dipped below the horizon as Jack Whittaker, a ten-year-old homeless boy with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, sat huddled against the cold stone wall of an alley. His tattered clothes barely protected him from the biting wind. Jack's stomach growled loudly, but he ignored it.

"Have you ever heard about the land of giants up in the clouds?" asked one of the boys, his eyes wide with excitement. "They say there's a whole world up there, just waiting to be discovered."

"Giants? In the clouds?" Jack echoed, his eyes sparkling with wonder. "What do they look like?"

"Massive! Bigger than any building you've ever seen!" replied another boy, stretching his arms wide to emphasize his point. "And they live in houses so tall, they reach the sky!"

"Imagine what treasures we could find if we could get up there," mused a third boy, his voice filled with longing.

"Treasures?" Jack's heart skipped a beat. The thought of finding something valuable enough to change his life, to lift him out of poverty, was too enticing to ignore.

"Of course! They're giants, after all. Everything they own must be worth a fortune!" said the first boy with a mischievous grin.

"Jack, you should come with us next time we go up there," one of the boys suggested, noticing the younger boy's interest.

"Really?" Jack asked hesitantly, torn between excitement and fear. The idea of climbing into the clouds to explore the land of giants was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Sure, why not?" replied the older boy, his grin growing wider. "I heard one of the older bandit guilds got their hands on some magic beans. They grew the giant stalk just north of the kingdom. It's still there; neither the giants nor kings men have cut it down yet. This is our chance!"

"Maybe...maybe I will," Jack whispered.

One day, Jack found himself surrounded by a group of older boys who were eager to embark on their next adventure

"Jack," said one of the boys, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "we're going up tonight. You've heard our stories, and I know you're curious. Don't you want to see it all for yourself?"

Jack hesitated, torn between the allure of the unknown and the fear that gripped him at the thought of facing the giants. He stared at the ground, scuffing his worn shoes against the cobblestones as he weighed his options.

"Come on, Jack," urged the first boy, slapping him on the back. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. We'll keep you safe."

"Alright," he breathed, his voice trembling with anticipation. "I'll do it. I'll climb the beanstalk with you."

"Welcome aboard!" the boys cheered, clapping him on the back and ruffling his hair.

The massive beanstalk loomed before them, its twisted tendrils reaching for the heavens like the arms of an ancient god. Jack's heart raced as he gripped the rough surface of the stalk, feeling the pulse of life beneath his fingertips.

"Remember, just follow our lead," one of the older boys whispered, his eyes shining with anticipation. "We'll have you up there in no time."

As they finally broke through the cloud barrier, a vast expanse of verdant green stretched out before them. The sight took Jack's breath away – everything was enormous, from the blades of grass that towered above him like redwoods to the insects that buzzed lazily through the air, the size of small birds.

"Come on," the first boy beckoned, gesturing toward a distant mansion that appeared to be carved from the living rock itself. "Let's claim what's ours."

As Jack tiptoed through the immense hallways, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale of everything around him.

"Stay close to me," said one of the boys, noticing Jack's unease. "We'll find something valuable soon enough."

Jack nodded, swallowing hard as they pressed on, acutely aware of the danger surrounding them. What if the giants discovered their presence? Would they be crushed like insects beneath their enormous feet?

"Look!" the boy beside him hissed, pointing to a door slightly ajar, golden light spilling from its edges. "That must be where the treasure is!"

The door swung open to reveal a vast, glittering room filled with treasures beyond their wildest dreams. Jack's eyes widened as they took in the shimmering gold coins and precious gemstones.

"Quick, start grabbing what you can!" one of the boys whispered urgently, his voice cracking with excitement.

As they scrambled to pocket their loot, the ground beneath them suddenly jolted, causing Jack to stumble and drop a handful of sapphires. 

"Guys, I think we need to leave now," Jack stammered, his heart pounding.

"Too late," another boy replied, his face pale as he stared at the colossal figure that had just entered the room – the giant.

"Thieves! You dare steal from me?" the giant roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of his home. Panic set in as the boys realized they were caught, and they frantically searched for an escape route.

"Run!" Jack shouted, darting towards the nearest exit. His friends followed suit, scattering like mice before a cat.

"Come back here, you little vermin!" the giant bellowed, his massive footsteps echoing as he chased after them.

Jack's mind raced as he sprinted down the hallways, desperately trying to remember the way back to the beanstalk.

But in his haste, he took a wrong turn, finding himself at a dead end. The giant's thunderous footsteps grew closer and closer, and Jack knew there was no way out.

"Caught you, little thief!" the giant bellowed, reaching down to snatch Jack up in his massive hand. As the other boys continued their frantic escape, Jack stared in terror at the enormous face looming above him, knowing that he was truly alone.

The giant's eyes burned with rage as he stared down at Jack, his tiny form trembling in the grip of the massive fist. "What were you thinking, stealing from me?" the giant demanded, his voice thundering through the room.

"Please...I didn't mean any harm," Jack stammered, tears streaming down his face as he looked up at the gargantuan figure above him. The disparity between them was overwhelming.

For a moment, the giant's expression softened ever so slightly as he considered the fear-filled face of the human child before him. "You're just a kid," he muttered, although his tone remained harsh. "But that doesn't excuse your actions."

"Please, sir, I'll do anything to make it right," Jack pleaded, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that the other boys had managed to escape, leaving him to face the consequences alone.

"Fine," the giant grumbled. "You will work off your debt to me."

Jack resigned himself to his fate as the giant's prisoner. He was carried to a small cage in the corner of an enormous room and locked inside.

The giant man leaned down so he could peer into the cage.

“My name is Argus. You can call me Sir or Master Argus. Now, if you listen well, we’ll have no problems, do you understand?” Argus gruffly asked his tiny captive.

Jack quickly nodded, not wanting to upset the giant man.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“J…. Jack….Sir.”

“Humph, I’d say nice to meet you, but considering you’re a little thief, it’s not.” Argus grumpily grumped. “Now what ever I ask you to do, I expect it to be done, or I will have to punish you.”

Jack nodded his head again, not wanting to gain his wrath.

“Good, now you’ll sleep here tonight. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

***

True to his word, the giant kept Jack busy, forcing him to perform various tasks around the house. Jack was often caged or leashed by a collar around his neck, the gold chain connecting him to the giant's wrist like an unbreakable bond. When the leash was on, Jack had no choice but to sit in the giant's palm, feeling utterly helpless and vulnerable. Argus wasn’t too rough with him. Seeming to take great pains not to crush him. He even made sure Jack got a bath and clean clothing. Jack hated to admit it, but the giant kept him well-fed as well. When Jack gathered the courage to ask about the leash and collar. Argus just chuckled, saying he'll take it off when Jack has earned his trust.

"Hand me that paintbrush," the giant ordered one day, sitting at his desk. Jack, for once not attached to the leash, was given free roam of the giant’s desk. Argus knew full well that the tiny thief couldn’t get down on his own.

Jack grabbed the requested brush with shaky hands and handed it up, his entire body quivering at the thought of accidentally dropping it.

"Good," the giant grunted, using the brush to add delicate details to his canvas. Jack couldn't help but admire the skillful strokes from such massive hands. "Now, hold still. I want to paint your portrait."

As Jack obeyed, he couldn't help but wonder if this was his life now – serving a colossal master, forever bound in servitude. His thoughts turned to the other boys, who were undoubtedly in their own world again, free and enjoying the treasure they stole. It was unlikely the other boys would come to save him. They probably believed his bones were ground up to make the giant's bread. Or they simply did not care enough to risk their lives for him, a simple street rat. Despair settled heavily on his heart as he realized there was no going back for him.

For a while, Jack was despondent, missing his freedom and his friends back home. But gradually, as days turned into weeks, his curiosity got the better of him. He started asking the giant questions about his people and their world. Though gruff, the giant seemed pleased by Jack's interest and would spend hours telling the boy tales of his ancestors.

Argus would often scoop Jack up in his colossus hands and place him on his shoulder as he talked to the boy. Jack felt like a parrot on the giant shoulder, perched there. He had no choice but to grip the giant’s shirt. While listening to Argus talk about his society and history, he felt less afraid of the giant man. Maybe the giant wasn’t as terrible as the stories made him out to be.

The sun was setting as Jack sat on Argus’s shoulder. The giant sat on the hill overlooking the breathtaking expanse of the world below. From this vantage point, nestled among the cottony clouds, Jack marveled at the beauty of the land he had only ever known from the ground.

"Um, excuse me," Jack whispered, tugging at the strands of Argus’s beard. He had scooted closer to the giant’s neck. "I... I need to tell you something."

The giant tilted his head, trying to look down at his tiny companion, a mixture of curiosity and concern etching itself onto his rugged features. "What is it, little one?"

Jack swallowed hard, steeling himself for what he was about to confess. "I... I'm sorry for stealing from you when I first came here. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have done it."

"Thank you for your apology, Jack," the giant said gently, a hint of sadness in his voice. "It takes courage to admit one's mistakes."

Jack felt a wave of relief wash over him. "I want to make things right," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "And... I want to go home."

Argus frowned. “And what will stop you from returning to thievery? Can you even survive on your own? From what you’ve told me, you were a homeless child begging on the streets.”

Jack flinched at the harsh words. “I won’t, I promise. I’ve learned my lesson!”

“Boy, your human world isn’t as kind as I’ve been. I’ve heard they hang thieves, even as young as you, for stealing. Sometimes, they take their hands.”

Jack hunched his shoulders up to his ears. He found it hard to argue. When he saw it happen to other thieves in his group.

“So, I’m waiting. What will you do to survive on your own? Hmmm?”

Jack felt his lip tremble. “I’ll get a job!”

“Will you know? With what skills…. what kind of job can you do?”

“I…... I’ll…. figure something out! You’re being mean!” Jack cried, feeling anger burn in his gut.

Jack yelped in surprise and fear as Argus reached for him. His humongous fingers curled around his tiny form, pushing him into the giant palm. The giant fingers curl around him, forming a fist trapping Jack there. Jack found himself pressed against Argus’s chest.

“Hmmm, I guess I’ll have to teach you then.” Jack could feel Argus’s words rumble in his chest.

“Really? Then will you let me go?” Jack asked with a bit of hope in his voice.

“Only if you learn well,” Argus warned.

Over the next few weeks, the giant man took it upon himself to teach Jack lessons that would prove invaluable in his world. Jack's days were filled with tasks ranging from cooking and cleaning to gardening and sewing. The giant observed him closely, offering guidance and gentle corrections as he worked.

When it was time for bed, Argus gently placed Jack on a pillow on the nightstand instead of the cage. Smiling up at the giant, Jack felt happier than he had in a long time. He was no longer a prisoner here but a friend.

After months go by Jack feels confident and comfortable. One night at dinner Jack decided to confront Argus, asking to be let go.

Jack felt like a tiny mouse sitting before a giant lion as it ate its meal. Jack was thankful Argus had no interest in eating him.

“Have I done well, Master Argus? Have I learned the life skills you’ve given me?” Jack asked once he got his courage. He tried to ask it politely, sweatily, hoping to gain favor from the giant.

“Hmm, you have. You’ve done very well.”

Jack smiles brightly. “So, does this mean you can let me go? And take me back down to the human realm?” Argus was the only one that could take Jack down there. The giant had poisoned the beanstalk, making it wither. No one could go up or back down. But Argus seemed to be the gatekeeper of sorts. He could plant a new one if he wanted to. Otherwise, Jack would have tried to escape long ago. But with the beanstalk gone, there was no point in risking his life in a giant world where giant animals could eat him, or another giant could find him and maybe live up to the stories and grind his bones into bread.

Jack's smile faded as the giant's massive fingers curled around him, enclosing him firmly but gently. He looked up, confused, as Argus picked him up and brought him close to his face.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked.

Argus regarded him solemnly. "I have reconsidered. You are not yet ready for the world below."

"But you said-" Jack protested, pushing against the giant's grip.

"The human world is filled with danger and temptation," Argus rumbled. "You are still a boy. I will keep you here until you come of age."

Jack's heart sank. "How long?"

"Eight years. When you reach eighteen, you will be a man fully formed and can fend for yourself."

"No!" Jack cried, tears stinging his eyes. Eight years as a prisoner, even a pampered one, was unbearable. "Please, I want to go home!"

The giant shook his great head. "My mind is set, little one. Do not fight your destiny." Argus gently smoothed Jack's messy hair out of his eyes. Jack tried not to flinch as the giant finger pushed back his hair. “Don’t look so sad. You won’t be a prisoner. You’re just a kid. Think of this as an apprenticeship. This is more than you would get down there.”

Exhausted, Jack slumped in the giant's grasp.

“How will I not be a prisoner? You’re keeping me here against my will!?” Jack asked, his anger getting the best of him.

“Hmmm, I promise, no more cages, collars, and leashes. I’m only keeping you safe as my ward, ok? I’ll even set you up with your own room in the west wing.”

Jack looked up in surprise at this, locking eyes with Argus. “Really? I’d get my own room?” Jack asked. He had trouble imagining it. He’d get his own giant-sized room. More space than he’d ever have on earth.

“Yes. It will be your own space. I’ll even make some tiny doors for you and other ways for you to get around.” Argus was looking at him with a soft look. Which was rare for the grumpy giant.

Jack relented with a huff and a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad here. Argus had become like a father to him in some ways. He was stern, but he had protected and taught Jack a lot.

So, Jack would make the best of it. And when the day came that Argus unleashed him on the world below, he would be ready.

[doesnotloveyou]

Tri-Vault Musings/Headcanons

Analyzing the conspiracies, experiments, and a possible plot-hole in how the vaults are portrayed in the Fallout show.

Major spoilers below cut!

Vault 31 manages (or rather supplies the managers of) the experiment taking place in Vault 32. Vault 33 is the breeding stock and control group that keeps 32 populated and the experiment ongoing. Since the proposed theory is that time is the ultimate weapon, this experiment was designed to last and last. Therefore, they need a constant stock of compliant subjects (we see what happens when the subjects are not "compliant"). And who is more compliant than content members of a meritocracy? Trained from birth to do as they're told because it's morally correct to obey, they will happily comply with whatever is expected of them in 32 (this is paralleled by the local chapter of the BoS who are taught it is spiritually correct to obey, morals notwithstanding).

The events that take place in 33 are suspiciously staged and seem, in part, to be an inside job. Hank was unaware of 32's compromised state, otherwise he would have been wary of allowing them into 33, let alone marrying his prized pupil to one of them. But Betty...she may have known. She is older than him, was Overseer before him, and curiously has no lineage to speak of. She was either strictly management, or already traded her children into 32 decades ago.

Based on her motives and that she is the first to say how awful it is that the prisoners died, we know Stephanie poisoned them on Betty's orders. This implies Stephanie helped Betty clean up Vault 32 along with any other plants from 31 that we are currently unaware of. It took a big effort to clean all of that in the limited time they had before Norman spilled the beans.

I'm curious why the morbidly grinning Overseer of 32, whose death at least Hank is aware of and who he would've known pre-war, is a) tied down, b) his door propped open, and c) three empty bottles of glue are on his desk. Fair to assume he locked himself in there when his residents rebelled, and fair also to assume he tried to warn his cohorts in 33 (unless failure is too much for a "manager" to admit even in those circumstances). The residents jammed the door open anyhow and tied him to his chair, but did they force feed him glue? Was he high on the glue? Did they glue him to the seat? Typical Fallout environmental storytelling, very open-ended.

Since the propaganda playing on the TV in 32 is about the exact phenomenon Robert House brings up, overpopulation leading to a violent culling, was that the experiment? Did House inspire the very experiment that would take place there? Would a meritocracy still eat itself even if managed properly?

The first corpse we see in 32 is the most likely cannibalized remains of an adult in the nursery. This may symbolize that overpopulation was indeed their downfall, and imply that the children were killed first. Previous to this we see the tossed classroom, also symbolic of trouble for the children. The corpse in the nursery seems to have died where they sat, either from their lost limb or a shot to the head. We see multiple suicides as well as homicides, proving that some residents intentionally removed themselves either from the chaos or to reduce the drain on resources.

Regardless, many corpses are strewn outside the seal to Vault 31. How they died is not clear, but if there was overpopulation and cannibalism it is safe to assume the food supply was gone and some simply starved to death.

The messages they left behind are easily the scrawlings of people who "went bananas" as Chet puts it, but who was meant to read them? Who else would read these messages but residents from Vault 33 and 31? The messages make it clear that the residents of 32 were onto their purpose as breeders for the managerial race, and whatever happened it's possible this is why the children might have been killed first, as a flipped bird to management for trying to create a superior race of *checks notes* managers.

The experiment in 32 failed. Even compliant subjects when deprived of resources and threatened with overpopulation turned on themselves. But they were not all so delirious as to question the authority that deprived them. It's even possible the chain reaction started when someone like Norman asked "Why are all leaders from 31?" They raided the Overseer's office, killed him, read his computer, learned what 31 is for, and spent their dying moments attempting to break into 31 and kill every manager in there.

Had they tried to contact 33 and warn them, it would have done no good because a manager would have intercepted and killed that message.

This, if it happened, would have to have been Betty. She is unfazed by what exists in 32. When messages to 32 requesting a breeder were answered, she should've been suspicious. We have to conclude that if she did know, she hid it from Hank.

Why breed with 32 anyway? Shouldn't all outside genetics be from 31? Wouldn't breeding the offspring of one manager with another manager be more efficient? If 32 was simply a copy of 33 and meant to also provide breeding stock for 31 to "outlive" the "competition," then WHAT happened other than Robert House being the smartest jackass of all time, as usual?

[(FNV spoilers for noobs) Tbf, House took the idea of outliving the competition to heart and did that himself. The show confirms he was in the know and implies Vault 21 was his project.]

POSSIBLE PLOT-HOLE:

If Moldaver could open the exterior door and get into 32, why not also get into 33 or directly access 31? If 32 was somehow easy because it was compromised, how long did she have to wait for 33 to contact 32? Utilizing raiders instead of her own ppl was smart, but raiders are notoriously unruly. How did she keep them in line long enough to infiltrate 33? (raiders do have some superstitious boundaries so them not disturbing the evidence in 32 feels accurate)

And why did some residents of 32 not flee to the surface? If it was simple enough to get in, shouldn't it have been simple to get out? We know they didn't because otherwise the exterior door would be recorded as having been opened from the inside as well.

ALSO, if 32 had a record of the exterior door being opened by "Rose" why didn't 33? Again, was this information only Betty was privy to? Or was only the manager in 32 allowed to monitor the exterior door and pass it on if needed? Are the vaults really allowed to access the exterior door without alerting each other (Vault-Tec is riddled with design flaws so this is probably a "yes")?

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep8 Musings - Loustat (Spoilers) Pt1: Breakup

Trust me, Lestat wasn't thinking about your stupid suit, Louis. Yes, Carol Cutshall said the gold symbolized Louis as the sun that drew Lestat to him; but the main thing was him pulling that sword-cane on Paul. THAT is what might've changed things: PAUL. Most importantly, the what-if about Paul not having died, and what that might've changed or not (IMO, not much--Lestat would've just kept "hunting" Louis longer, till he found his chance).

At 50? Would Lestat have WANTED Lou? Doubtful. Louis would've been married with kids by then, desperately holding on to what little money he'd've gotten as a failed farmer & pimp (cuz he wouldn't've had the Azalea or Lestat's money); probably in debt just to keep the DPDL estate; even as his mom resented him, and Grace probably wouldn't've been able to marry Levi without a dowry, so who knows how she'd've acted. What SPARK would old!Lou have that would've even made Les interested in him? These questions are MOOT.

"Doomed by the narrative."

I'm still confused about Claudia's diaries, and where they were in 1973--I'm assuming this was just a lie fed by Armand that they were scattered b/t Paris & NOLA.

SKILL ISSUE. Louis ALWAYS has a contingency plan!

I'm so bummed we didn't get the Tower Scene, or get to physically SEE Lestat being tortured by Armand. But oh well, at least we get to see Magnus' Tower, and hear what Magnus told Lestat b4 Les was Turned.

And this is a crazy accurate line, considering Armand said that ordering the humans to say "Banishment" took all of his strength which I KNEW was a freaking lie! XD

You should see them in Dubai when Danwrecks Armand's whole set!

Les calling himself a disappointment--YOU ARE. (Nordic blondes, dirty blondes, and the worst one: a FRENCH blonde.) Chile, no one knows why you do what you do.

That's right, don't let him up for effing oxygen!

EXACTLY.

Lestat was turned on the whole time (who said that!?).

No one cares.

TRUE! That's the most honest thing Armand said all season, wow.

AKASHA NAME DROP, STFU LFG

Marius never told Armand about TWMBK for a reason--hed've spilled the beans quicker than Louis about "Bruce" being Lestat. XD But Lestat's bragging a little too much though--even MARIUS burned with Akasha's blood in him, so.... 🙄 They won't DIE, but it WILL eff them up.

CRAZY important line--strong(er) vampires have to be WILLING to die in the fire for it to stick? Like Lestat said in QotD: he will ALWAYS "fight for life."

That doesn't actually count for much when you've been regularly starving yourself since 1910. 🙄

What a way to go, lbh, these vamps are effing gorgeous.

PETTY BOOTS THE HOUSE DOWN! 😂

Yeah, about that--but FLEX!

Ouch

GO AWF, KING LOUIS! FLEXXXXXXX!

Louis said REPLACEMENTS!!! ALL the Antoine(tte)s and Davids and Quinns and whoever TF that bum was in NOLA--PALE PROXIES! And yes I AM taking that racially, too! The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice! 😜

Water in a sieve; don't worry. It's the PRINCIPLE of the thing--go sit in the corner for 70+ years and keep having "a think!"

YOU would know better than anyone!

Imma save the big reveal and the reunion for Pt2; I think I'm gonna hit the image limit soon.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x12 New York City Serenade

(gif by @pirateherokillian)

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 938

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian tossed the bean into the churning sea and then jumped just as he saw the smoke of the newest curse billow toward him.  He let out a long breath as the portal closed around him.

He’d made it.

Now came the real challenge.  Before he’d left the band of heroes, Regina had told him she’d given Swan and Henry a life in New York City.  Killian recalled the one and only time he’d been in this New York.  It had been a land of noise, bustle and endless people.  It was a strange land where he could walk among the citizens dressed as a pirate of old, and no one batted an eye. (Aside, of course, from that group of giggling women who had requested he take a selfie with them, whatever the blazes that was.) 

How did one even begin to search for someone in this sprawling metropolis? Killian supposed he could always break into Baelfire’s apartment and use it as a home base of sorts while he waited if that proved necessary. 

The portal deposited Killian upon a sidewalk and he fell to his knees with a wince.  He got quickly back to his feet, looking around himself, pleased to see this particular sidewalk was largely deserted.

Killian glanced around to find that he’d landed in front of what may be a lodging house of some kind–an apartment building, he believed it was called in this land.  It seemed to be outside of the heart of the city, the sidewalk lined by well manicured trees and shrubs.

Perhaps he’d been fortunate.  Perhaps the portal had deposited him in front of Swan’s abode.  He strode toward the gate before the building and pulled at the handle.

It appeared to be locked tight.

Killian peered down at the lock and frowned.  It didn’t seem to require a key.  All he could see was some manner of keypad.  How was one to pick a lock such as this?

He was still trying to determine the answer to that when an elderly lady came to the gate and gave him a disapproving look.

“Just why are you loitering here, young man?” she asked, frowning up at him.

Killian bit his lip to keep from laughing at the “young man” comment.  If only she knew his actual age!  “I believe my girlfriend lives in this building, madam,” he said in his most charming tone, the one that got even Granny herself to blush.  “Emma Swan?  Can you help me get in?”

If anything, the woman’s frown deepened, and she folded her arms.  “I’ve met Emma Swan’s boyfriend, and you are not him.”

Killian ignored the nasty, jealous feeling the statement evoked.  It was vital he get to Emma as soon as possible and restore her memories.  He hadn’t time to reflect on the current state of her love life and the emotions that dredged up within him.

“I think you must be mistaken,” he lied smoothly.  “That relationship is at an end, and she’s with me now.” 

She continued to watch him carefully for another moment, and then nodded, turning toward the keypad and unlocking the door.  “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry to see the end of Walsh,” she said.  “There was always something kind of….shifty…about him.  I’m not sure that you’re any better, though.  Don’t think I can’t see right through that charm you ooze.”

“You find me charming?” he asked, flirting shamelessly as he followed her into the building and then surreptitiously glanced at the buzzer board in the entryway to find the apartment number he was looking for.  His grin widened as the elderly woman finally blushed.

“Don’t let it go to your head, young man,” she said, turning to open an apartment door on the ground floor.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Killian was still grinning from the encounter as he climbed the stairs until he’d reached Swan’s floor, but the grin was replaced by nerves when he reached her door.  Was he ready for this?  Was he ready to see her again and see the lack of recognition in her eyes?

Would his plan to bestow a True Love’s Kiss on her work to restore her memories?  He knew she cared about him; he’d seen it in her eyes when they’d bid each other farewell at the town line.  Was it enough to break a curse?

He took a deep breath and then stood taller, looking at the door determinedly.  There was only one way to find out.

Taking one more fortifying breath, he raised his fist and knocked.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Five minutes later, Killian hobbled down the stairs and back out onto the sidewalk, his heart smarting as much as his nether regions at the failure of his first plan.  Aye, it had been a long shot that his True Love’s Kiss would work.  Perhaps her feelings were not as strong as he’d hoped they were.  Still one hardly wished his kiss to his beloved to be followed by a swift knee to his groin. 

For a moment, as he got his bearings and began making his way toward Baelfire’s abode, Killian allowed himself to feel the sting of rejection, but then he firmly put it aside.

So his first attempt had failed.  He still had the potion.  Aye, he had hoped to give it to the lad after his kiss had restored Swan’s memories, but he could adapt.  It was time to rethink his approach and strategize.

Getting through Regina’s memory spell was going to be quite the challenge, but he loved a challenge, and he loved Emma.

She was worth fighting for.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

[junophernelia]

The Name of Blasphemy

Vampire Hannibal X Monster Hunter Will Graham

Part 2: The Beast is Given a Mouth to Utter Proud Words.

No warnings, 1.9k words, Will and Hannibal have their first dinner. Will dreams after. Last chapter

The grand dining room was everything Will expected: dark wood panels, high ceilings, and a massive chandelier hanging overhead, casting a warm glow on the richly set table. Candles flickered in silver holders, their light reflected off polished cutlery and fine china. Everything about the room screamed wealth and refinement, but it also felt cold, detached.

Will sat at one end of the long table, his eyes scanning the room for hidden corners or exits. A habit. He didn’t trust any place where he couldn’t see all the ways out. The quiet tick of a clock somewhere deep in the house was the only sound that broke the stillness.

At the other end of the table, Hannibal sat calmly, poised as always, with a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He was the picture of elegance, his movements deliberate and graceful as he sliced into his food, like someone who’d mastered the art of control. “You seem... uneasy, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal remarked, his voice as smooth as the wine in his glass. He didn’t look up, but Will could feel his attention like a weight. “Perhaps you’re not accustomed to such formal settings?”

Will smirked, cutting into the meat in front of him—some kind of rare roast that looked far too expensive for his taste. “Not exactly my usual dinner scene,” he replied, glancing up at Hannibal. “My diet’s more beans cooked over an open fire. Or whatever stew the inn can scrape together. You know, simple man.” “Of course,” Hannibal said with a nod, unbothered by Will’s tone. “But I believe there’s something to be said for a well-prepared dish, don’t you think? It’s an art, really. One must appreciate the finer things in life, even if they don’t come naturally.” He raised his glass in a casual toast. “To new experiences.”

Will eyed him, lifting his glass half-heartedly in response. “Yeah, well, sometimes new experiences taste like pretension.” Hannibal chuckled softly, setting his glass down with a delicate clink. “It’s only pretension if there’s no substance behind it. I assure you, this meal is quite substantial.”

Will stabbed at a piece of meat, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “I’ll take your word for it. You’re the expert here.” “Hardly an expert,” Hannibal replied, his smile widening. “Just someone who enjoys the finer details. I find them... illuminating.” “Right.” Will’s eyes narrowed slightly as he put down his fork. “That why you’ve got me here, then? To savor the finer details?” Hannibal’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re far too interesting a guest to simply ignore, Mr. Graham. Besides, I suspect you don’t allow many people to get close enough to... savor you, as you put it.”

Will snorted, leaning back in his chair. “People don’t usually get the chance to try. The ones that do don’t stick around long.” “Is that by your design, or theirs?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone curious rather than accusatory.

Will’s eyes flicked up to meet Hannibal’s, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Depends on the person, I guess. Most people don’t get the appeal of a guy who sleeps with one eye open and carries enough silver to ward off a small army.” “Perhaps they lack imagination,” Hannibal mused. “I find there’s great beauty in vigilance. It suggests a mind that never rests, a constant pursuit of... something greater.”

Will’s smirk widened as he picked up his glass again, swirling the wine lazily. “You make paranoia sound like a virtue.” Hannibal’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps in your case, it is.” There was a brief silence as they both returned to their meals, the soft clink of cutlery filling the room. Will was still on edge, but he couldn’t help noticing the ease with which

Hannibal commanded the space around him. Every movement was purposeful, every glance measured. It wasn’t just charm—it was control. “You’ve got a lot of people convinced you’re some kind of saint,” Will said, his voice casual but sharp. “Generous lord, protector of the village. Hannibal didn’t flinch, instead taking another sip of wine before responding. “It’s only natural to be wary of what you don’t understand.”

Will’s gaze locked with Hannibal’s, his blue eyes hard and unyielding. “People like you don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts. There’s always something else.” Hannibal’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes darkened slightly, an undercurrent of something unreadable passing beneath his otherwise calm expression. “You may find, in time, that my intentions are more straightforward than you assume.”

Will’s lips curled into a sarcastic grin. “Yeah? And what are those intentions?” Hannibal leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just a fraction. “To show you that not everything is as black and white as you believe. That sometimes, the monster isn’t the one standing in front of you.”

Will’s smirk faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Is that supposed to reassure me?” Hannibal sat back again, his smile returning to its usual charming curve. “No, Mr. Graham. It’s supposed to make you curious.”

Will didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. Hannibal watched him for a long moment, the tension between them palpable yet oddly comfortable, as though they were both playing a game neither of them wanted to win just yet. The rest of the meal passed in quiet conversation, but beneath every word was the same underlying tension—one that neither man was willing to break.

Later that night, Will lay rigid in the bed, the soft sheets foreign against his skin. Sleep was elusive, as if the comfort of the opulent room only made it harder to find. The plush mattress, likely the most luxurious he'd encountered in years, felt more like a trap than a sanctuary. He’d grown accustomed to rough nights spent in barns, under open skies, or in dingy inns where every sound kept him on edge. Here, in this lavish bedchamber, the stillness felt suffocating. Despite all his instincts, despite years of training to sniff out the foulness of the monsters he hunted, he found himself intrigued by the Count in a way that both repulsed and captivated him. The image of the count, with his sharp features and unreadable eyes, loomed in Will’s mind. He tried to shake it off, but the harder he resisted, the more vivid the man's presence became. Something about Hannibal's demeanor, the calm power in his gaze, pulled at a part of Will he couldn’t easily explain. It gnawed at him, a feeling that nestled deep, even as his mind screamed against it.

.The memory of their meeting replayed in fragments—Hannibal’s smooth voice, his deliberate movements, the way his gaze seemed to penetrate through every defense Will had built over the years. Despite everything he knew, everything he had trained for, Will couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward the count. It was irrational, dangerous even, but it gnawed at him all the same. Here, in this grand estate with its suffocating grandeur.

Will's body sank deeper into the plush mattress, the weight of exhaustion finally dragging him into the abyss of sleep. But his rest was far from peaceful. The moment his eyes closed, his mind began to twist and bend, plunging him into a strange, feverish dream.

He stood in the middle of a fog-drenched forest, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and decay. The trees towered around him, their gnarled branches curling toward the sky like skeletal hands, their bark slick with an unnatural sheen, as though the forest itself was alive—watching him. A heavy, oppressive darkness hung between the trees, so thick that it pressed down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Somewhere in the distance, a raven croaked, its cry echoing through the stillness, eerie and foreboding.

Will’s hand instinctively reached for his knife, but his fingers closed around empty air. He was unarmed, vulnerable. The forest seemed to shift and pulse around him, alive with the whispers of unseen creatures, and somewhere beyond the trees, something—no, someone—was watching him. The fog parted, revealing a path. It wound through the forest, leading to a crumbling stone manor perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, silhouetted against a sickly yellow moon. The manor’s towers stretched up into the sky like claws, and its windows gleamed with an unnatural light. It was the same manor where he had fallen asleep, yet in this dream, it seemed older, more twisted, as though the very stone had been corrupted by centuries of malevolence. Drawn forward by some invisible force, Will moved toward the manor, his footsteps soundless on the damp earth. The trees loomed closer as he passed, their bark now pulsing with dark veins, like blood vessels pushing sluggish, rotten blood through the heart of the forest. His breath came in shallow gasps, and the air was thick with the stench of rot. He stumbled, his foot sinking into the ground, which gave way beneath him like decayed flesh.

The fog parted, revealing a path. It wound through the forest, leading to a crumbling stone manor perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, silhouetted against a sickly yellow moon. The manor’s towers stretched up into the sky like claws, and its windows gleamed with an unnatural light. It was the same manor where he had fallen asleep, yet in this dream, it seemed older, more twisted, as though the very stone had been corrupted by centuries of malevolence.

Drawn forward by some invisible force, Will moved toward the manor, his footsteps soundless on the damp earth. The trees loomed closer as he passed, their bark now pulsing with dark veins, like blood vessels pushing sluggish, rotten blood through the heart of the forest. His breath came in shallow gasps, and the air was thick with the stench of rot. He stumbled, his foot sinking into the ground, which gave way beneath him like decayed flesh.

Drawn forward by a force he couldn’t resist, Will moved toward the manor, his footsteps silent on the spongy ground. The closer he came, the heavier the air became, thick with the scent of damp decay and something metallic, like iron rusting in the rain. His chest tightened with every breath, as though the forest itself was pressing down on him.

The manor’s door stood open, waiting. Without thinking, Will stepped inside. The grand hall stretched out before him, dimly lit by flickering candles that cast long, wavering shadows across the walls. The air was thick and humid, with the faintest scent of flowers just beginning to rot. The wooden panels of the walls seemed to pulse faintly, as though they were alive, and the floor beneath his feet creaked with each step. Something was off—subtle, but present, like the place was teetering on the edge of decay, barely holding itself together.

At the far end of the hall, a figure stood in shadow, watching him. It was Hannibal. He stepped into the light, his face as sharp and flawless as ever, but there was something different about him in the dream—an intensity that set Will’s nerves on edge. His eyes gleamed in the flickering candlelight, and his presence filled the room in a way that made the space feel smaller, as though the walls themselves were closing in around him.

Hannibal smiled, that same calm, measured smile, but in the dream, it felt more like a mask—something hiding the truth beneath. “You don’t seem well-rested,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too soft for the vastness of the hall. Will tried to speak, but his throat was tight. The words wouldn’t come. His heart pounded, the sensation of being watched creeping over him like a second skin. There was something in the room with them, something unseen but present, hovering just out of reach.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Gonna be SO honest, i've stopped reading most of the snippets you post, especially for the fics i'm most excited about, bc i don't wanna spoil myself too much and i prefer waiting for the actual update, HOWEVER i think i'm doing all of us a favor by doing this

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Thanks a million and happy writing!💕

That is so so fair! Some of them have been quite spoilery.

BUT THANK YOU!

Here are 75 new sentences for vamp!Eddie:

---

Buck doesn’t sleep well. 

It’s not just readjusting to his old friend, the Diaz couch. Though that proves uncomfortable. Largely, it’s any noise, insignificant or not, that rips him from any small sleep he manages to find. Sophia getting up to use the washroom. Eddie shifting in bed. The buzz of the fridge from the kitchen. A car rolling down the street outside the house. 

Last time Eddie was under this roof, vulnerable, Buck had slept too soundly. 

This time, fearing he will evaporate like smoke and be gone by sunrise, Buck hardly sleeps at all. 

He wakes early, with the sun. He cracks open Eddie’s door ever so slightly, just to confirm he’s still there. Real, not a phantom. Not a wish so frantically wanted, that his brain allowed him to slip into delusion. Eddie lays very still under the covers. Breathing a touch rigid. He’s real. He’s changed, but he’s real. 

Buck does something he has rare occasions for these days. Something he needs to get back into the habit of, with Chris coming home. While the Diazes sleep, he cooks a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes. He uses the good coffee beans, even. All the stops. They have a hard conversation ahead of them, today. One that won’t be made easier by an unsatisfied stomach. And, besides, who knows how long it’s been since Eddie had a good meal. He’s looking a little haggard. 

Cooking rouses Eddie and Sophia within minutes. Typical. Both of them. And Chris. All drawn to the smell of pancakes like beagles. He’d put on Adriana being the same way, even though he has only met her briefly, on two occasions, in 2019. 

“Morning,” Buck says to Eddie, who emerges first. “Sleep okay?”

He pretends that seeing him, walking towards him, doesn’t make his knees shake. 

Eddie nods. “Yeah. I was really tired.”

“I’ll bet,” Buck replies gently, ignoring the heaviness behind his own eyes. 

Buck grabs a mug and reaches for the coffee pot when Eddie stops him.

“No coffee, please. Do you have tea? Herbal?”

Buck looks at him like he’s an alien. 

Eddie’s lips quirk. “Caffeine has no effect. Uh, and it doesn’t actually taste that fantastic when you aren’t dependent.”

Buck blinks. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you?” Eddie asks. 

Well, because Buck has made it his mission to know everything. 

He shrugs, instead of saying so. “Lemon ginger okay? Or, I think Soph has cinnamon.”

“Oh, ginger please.”

“Okay,” Buck mumbles, then reaches for the electric kettle. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says quietly, as Buck fills it with water.

“For what?” Buck asks.

“Um…” Eddie struggles for an answer. “Not being the same, I guess.” 

“That’s hardly your fault.” Buck says. But he doesn’t look at Eddie as he says it. Instead, he searches the cupboards for tea. “You’ll still eat my pancakes though? I know you need to eat.”

“It’s food or the other thing,” Eddie says. “So, yes to pancakes.”

“Does it taste the same?” Buck asks.

“No.” 

Buck’s stomach twists. “Sorry. That sucks.”

“Not bad. Just different. Each ingredient is a bit stronger. More separate.”

“I think that’s how dogs experience smell,” Buck muses.

Eddie snorts. “So I’m like a dog?”

[desire-mona]

DESIRE-MONA TAG GUIDE:

tag directory for all my posts

(tagged reblogs began 07/09/24,(almost) all reblogs before then are not tagged)

italics - you can scroll through these to learn about me

bold - i think this stuff is cool and you should check it out

red - this is important

new tag development!! i will be tagging the song im currently listening to (if any) in text posts just cuz i think its fun. i like to sort things (i am autistic)

as i do not wanna type out all that shit, here is my airbuds

text posts

#desire mona - all of my original posts

#media - all posts with photos, videos, links, music, etc

#thoughtsing - posts that dont have to do with a specific fandom or i dont want to fill up a fandom tag for

#ask - all of my asks

#blows up procreate headquarters - my art

#mona internet factoids - my posts about internet history and the like

#chaos dreaming - dreams (may use this for rbs as well)

#get desired - i turn ppls pfps into my pfp

#imagine - desire-mona rpf, directly ripped from @house-md-imagines

#certified creeker - posting about nickel creek without taking up the nickel creek tag but so ppl can still go thru and read all my posts abt them

#on the clock - most employed user on tumblr

#banger - my favourite posts

!!!ALL FANDOM RELATED TEXT POSTS ARE TAGGED WITH THE RESPECTIVE FANDOM'S MAIN TAG, SAME GOES WITH CHARACTERS!!!

(in the gloaming tag guide: #in the gloaming - main tag, #gloamposting - reblogs and posts that i dont want to take up the main tag but also its a good contender for a hypothetical fandom tag?, #danny gloaming - posts specifically about the boy)

reblogs

#mona rb - reblogging my own posts

#answer - my asks i send other ppl

#what the fuck (car) - memento

#dps - dead poets society

#spider - spiderverse

#house rb - house md

#reasons i should stay - community

#remember damage - station eleven

#its pink and yellow - smiling friends

#rtc - ride the cyclone

#despite everything - undertale / deltatune / toby fox

#rsl - robert sean leonard (not all posts about characters he plays are included)

#roan - chappell roan

#ay oh - queen

#dnp - dan and phil

#the ska - tomska

#chris fleming mentioned - self explanatory

#dont go here - fandoms im not part of

#misc - textposts

#libposting - stuff about economics and politics (I AM NOT A LIBERAL)

#artistry - fanart, original art, art

#look - cool stuff

#musing - writing/poetry

#shes in fashion - clothes

#language - linguistics

#home - not telling

#posts that make me look at zeth - shifting lol

#palestine - news about palestine/ fundraisers

#attention - important text posts/ signal boosting/ etc

#animalia - animals

#posts that remind me of my sista - mice

#poll rb - polls

#tag prompt - "reblog with xyz"

#ha(i)te - posts about how shitty ai is

#muskification - posts abt elon hate or faulty tech or whatever. the like

#bean soup - reading comprehension

#nice - good news

#gender moodboard - self explanatory

#shut up - save

#luv my mutuals - general tag for mutual appreciation

SPECIFIC MUTUALS HAVE TAGS AS WELL, LOOK FOR THEM ON POSTS THAT INCLUDE THEM. MUTUAL TAGS INCLUDE MY TEXTPOSTS IN REFERENCE TO THEM, MY TEXTPOSTS IN RESPONSE TO THEM/ REBLOGGING THEM, OR POSTS THAT REMIND ME OF THEM.

lore