#About my Future Fiction On

[chayacat]

About my future fiction on Road 96: Bikers, Brothers,Robbers, Comicals as ever, but more deeper and humans than we think.

Fandom: Road 96

***

Hey Everyone! This will be my last AFFO and as we say, we always save the best for last. Even if there, the best, morally, is not good. In any country, dictatorship or not, crime, well, it's part of everyday life. The perfect country where there are zero criminals does not exist. Big or small, there are criminals and there always will be. And Petria is no exception. If we put the Black Brigade aside, there are just as many criminals in Petria as elsewhere. But among them, there are two that are very particular. Not because they are the best, but rather by the fact that their robbery always turns into a fiasco and we never know how they managed to get out of it. And for this last AFFO, they are the ones who will be at the center of the stage, let's talk about the funniest and most beloved robber duo of Road 96, to all units, Stan and Mitch are wanted.

Bikers and Robbers : Two brothers who embrace their criminal destiny.

Stan and Mitch are two of the 7 main characters you will meet during your adventure, I count them as one. It is a duo of men, both in their mid-thirties, who are bikers and robbers and who also wear a very particular outfit, all with a hood where smiles are drawn. However, it is possible to differentiate the two, Stan being armed with a shotgun whose cartridges he carries in cross on him and wearing the hood with a smiling face while Mitch plays rather the crowbar or "the beast" and wearing the hood with a sad face. If at first, we think that they are two very different people without any link, so two friends, the reality is quite different, since we learn from them that they are brothers, even twins. After, go find out which one is the elder of the two, personally I have my little theory, but we will come back to it later.

The biggest part of the action of the game, it’s with Jarod, but especially with them that you will find it, because it’s not two simple brothers who walk around the country on motorcycles, in weird clothes, being even described as "S&M Roleplaying", they are two robbers, who throughout the game and your meetings will try to rob places for money. Whether on a motorcycle, in a place or even in their own lair, Stan and Mitch will always put you to the test, all in a dose of humour because yes, Stan and Mitch are known but not for their robberies... at least not totally.

Bikers, Robbers and Brothers : Famous, but not for what they do.

Stan and Mitch are robbers, that's nothing new. And every time we meet them, they always try to make money. Even in their own lair where, in a scene that I really appreciate, we agree to help them, at least we have no real choice, in exchange for recovering the money they stole from us.  But for all that and despite them, it’s not totally thanks to their robberies that they are known. Indeed, Stan and Mitch are what could be called comic relief. For the small explanation, a comic relief is a situation or a character that brings a dose of humor in a situation that is not, see that can be serious. If we had to give an example in the world of cinema, Deadpool is a comic relief. He always makes a joke in a situation that is nevertheless serious. In Road 96, it is Stan and Mitch who take on this role. The fact that they are a bit simple-minded is the main reason for their comic effect. Indeed they both appear as beings a little silly and naive which lead to very comical situations when it is supposed to be serious. But that makes them just as endearing. However, they have a very specific goal, to find the potential murderer of Sonya Sanchez, the famous TV presenter and neutralize him before he takes action.

If at first we think that they are both big fans of Sonya, which they suggest, and even Stan says it, the reality is quite different, and believe me by redoing several runs of the game, I saw Stan and Mitch, much different than what the game lets us think. Since I did Road 96, and this several times... This is just my personal opinion but, for me, Stan and Mitch are the two most human people in the game. Try to change my mind.

Robbers, Comicals, but deep down, more humans than we thought

Stan and Mitch, the first time we meet them, we say to each other, they’re morons, but morons that we love. And that we find a little disturbing given the obsession they have for Sonya. But in the end we say to ourselves: "well they are fans of her, very fan, it's a little scary but fans like that exist and sometimes they can be a good help. Sometimes." But as the game progresses we discover something much more... personnal. If Stan and Mitch insist on wanting to protect Sonya at all costs it’s for a reason that we do not expect at all until it happens. Stan and Mitch aren't just Sonya's biggest fans, they're Sonya's big brothers.

We discover it from the mouth of Sonya who, when Adam, her bodyguard, asks her if she knows these two S&M guys, literally answers: “Know them ?? They’re my big brothers!!”. And there, I can assure you that in my head... Everything has completely changed towards them. As I said before, Stan and Mitch are for me the most human characters in the game. Because something has to be remembered, it's that Sonya didn't talk to them anymore. She had distanced herself from them, because she was a journalist, and they were criminals. And yet, despite all this, they continued to protect her in a certain way and watch over her. And I think that's really... adorable. And that's when you realize too, that they're not as silly as the game wants us to believe. After all, if Sonya cut off all relationships with them, at least that’s what I understand from them, how did they know she was in danger? How did they manage to know that the potential murderer, and I say this long before we discovered that it was Jarod, was a taxi driver? Because all this is not public no one knows that Sonya receives threatening letters. So how did they know she was in trouble?  And I'm sorry but... Stan and Mitch are clearly more human than the others characters. Because they are the products of Tyrak’s dictatorship. Let me explain. The game takes place in 96, in a country that suffers the dictatorship of a man and his government. This same government, recruits and impoverishes its people, sending all those who rebel against them in the Iron Pits. Even though the brigade seems to be the product of all this, it is Stan and Mitch who are really the result of this situation. Because they act like rational people in that case : what to do when you are poor, your government do everything for it, and no one helps you? You steal to get by. We don't know anything about their past, but I suspect that surviving was the primary purpose of their robbery, and that over time it has become a norm. Moreover, when we ask them what they think of the election and the political situation of the country, they make it clear to us that they don’t give a shit about it and that they only care about the money and Sonya. And just for that... I love them. I love them so much!  

For my future fiction, I think I will try to deepen the past of the Sanchez family, proposed a vision, my vision of their life before the game and the prologue book. Because frankly, they deserve a deeper read. What they are, the mentality they have, but the brotherly love they have for each other, that's what makes me love Stan and Mitch. And for me, if you remember what I said before, I have a little theory about who is the elder twin. In my opinion, it’s Stan. He gives me the impression of the protective big brother, who acts a bit like a parental figure that he must have worn for a long time, and who’s ready to lost everything to protect Mitch and Sonya even if it mean dying for them. Again, these are the best characters in the game. Try to change my mind.

***

(That's it for this AFFO, feel free to tell me what you think! Have a good week! see ya!)

[canisalbus]

hey, i'm the anon who asked about using machete as a wallpaper. first of all, thank you SO much, you're an angel. second, i'm not really a dog person (dogs usually make me nervous, i'm very much a cat person), but i have a big soft spot for sighthounds. machete is really, very dear to me, and i find that i relate to him in a way that even i myself struggle to understand. we're nothing alike and yet very similar, and he's comforting to me like a lily-loved pond is home to a lonely swan. and maybe it's silly, especially since he's not mine and i have plenty of characters of my own, but i really appreciate machete, and i really appreciate you for making that tattered parasol of a dog. i hope you're doing okay

.

[fishofthewoods]

Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Positively mind-blowing!! ❤️‍🔥🤯❤️‍🔥

[[💜❤️‍🔥Click for higher quality! Tag list as well as the initial sketch will be under the cut. All reblogs are seen and appreciated!! ❤️‍🔥💜]]

@absentmoon @ava-ships @bee-ships @beetleboyfriend @berryshipbasket @canongf @cloudyvoid @derelictdumbass @dissonantyote @edencantstopfallininlove @final-catboy @flabbergasting @gible-love-nibles @flowering-darkness @hirayarts @hoppinkiss @hotrodharts @hyperionshipping @iwishihadfangs @iyamifucker @judetama-moved @lex-n-weegie @lficanthaveloveiwantpower @little-miss-selfships @little-shiny-sharpies @loogi-selfships @mandrakebrew @mintpecks @mothfinite @mrs-kelly @nameless-self-ships @nerdstreak @orbitingaroundyourlove @paper-carnation @p-i-t-s @qilinkisser @reds-self-ships @rexscanonwife @rotten--cotton @spacestationstorybook @squips-ship @ship-trek @toogayforthistoday @winterworlds

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[leolaroot]

ferengi with a service slug. its shell is waist high with a brightly patterned harness and it helps with mobility and allergen detection tasks.

support sehlat in a Vulcan classroom used for emotional self-regulation in small children. you can bury your face in soft fur or get deep pressure therapy from a large paw pressing into the centre of your chest

an old bajoran farmer who was once a resistance fighter and is always accompanied by one of his livestock, who are untrained but eager to offer support when the pain of old injuries takes away control of his right leg

a blind starfleet officer lead by a guide dog through the halls of their starship to the laboratory where they work. the dog wears an official starfleet harness and their own combadge

a young bolian woman with paralyzed hands whose service bird has been trained to retrieve, carry, and manipulate objects, open doors, and get the attention of her support worker when they arent physically near

[rileys-battlecats]

my problem is that i love my ocs and want them to be happy. but. i am a tragedy enjoyer at heart

[aimasup]

sure i COULD ramble about how ai is one of the multiple things that check all the marks of humanity's seven deadly sins but would that be extreme

^^^ possibly insufficiently educated

[cryptidpandas]

rottmnt fandom when they got F!Leo

[thresholdbb]

Do we think Seven can feel all of her face and body?

The Borg know when things happen in the collective and can arguably feel them, but when an individual is severed from the Borg, that expansive collective consciousness is violently narrowed down to a pinpoint. We know Seven has pretty good proprioception because she agrees that her shoulder hurts when the EMH finds that her biradial clamp is off by 0.3 microns. Because of this, she arguably has a very good understanding of how things in her body feel. That said, she doesn't really complain about physical pains, and we really only see her struggle when things are emotionally difficult.

Since she had been in the collective since she was 6, she wouldn't necessarily know that certain sensations are not normal. If there were any issues that happened as a result of her assimilation, she wouldn't necessarily know they are unusual after she was severed because that's what she has always known.

So back to my original question: can she feel all of her face? Looking at the placement of her facial implants, they are both on the trigeminal nerve. The cheekbone implant is right around the root of the nerve, and the eyebrow piece sits right over another branch. Trigeminal neuralgia is crazy painful, but she could have trigeminal neuropathy and think it's completely normal because she doesn't have a typical baseline to compare it to. I imagine the Borg implants must interrupt some nerve functioning to ensure that the drones move as they are supposed to, and the nano probes would repair any damage that would affect their functioning. But the Borg would consider physical discomfort irrelevant, so relatively minor issues like neuralgia, pins and needles, or any other unusual sensations would not be considered an issue.

[cosettegf]

i love the penumbra podcast and i love second citadel and i really enjoyed listening to the finale but i feel. weird about the way this show treats its female characters???

[chayacat]

About my future fiction on Road 96 : Redemption’s Road starts for Papa Bear.

Fandom : Road 96

***

Hey Everyone !  Generally when you see someone physically strong enough, you have only one reaction in mind: it’s better not to look for a fight with him if you care about life. And rightly so, personally even if I still have a little repartee, I'm not suicidal either. But this kind of bearded, strong character that makes you want to cry just by their eyes can turn out to be real teddy bears. and today it’s a character in this style that we are going to talk about, a man who shouldn’t be provoked, but who deep down is a real Bear, even his name confirms it. Today? It’s John’s day.

John Ursus,“Papa bear”for friends.

John Ursus is one of the 7 main protagonists of the game, and that you will meet during your adventure. He is a fairly tall and quite strong man, maybe in his fifties, and who presents himself as a truck driver, transporting goods of any kind. We even have the right to participate, in a scene epic enough to protect a shipment of pineapple. Yes pineapples. One of the things that will strike you about John is the loss of two of his fingers on his right hand, which he will explain that it was by wanting to save his girlfriend that he lost them. Poor of him, I would not have wanted to be in his place. He is also known as Big John, Mr Ursus for Alex, The Wall when he is drunk and as Papa Bear, name he will use for his relationship via the cibi with Fanny. relationship that can never be made according to him because he is "on the wrong side of the barrier”. And we quickly understand why when we see on his arm the emblem of the Black Brigade. He is a full member or even one of the oldest and carries with him the famous radio transmitter that Fanny must find and destroy. But be careful, because John compared to the other members... he is quite different. And this is what will oppose him to his own group.

John, A Black Brigade member against his own group.

As I told you, before being a simple truck driver who carries goods aboard his faithful Mr. Grizzly, that's the name of his truck, John is a member of the Black Brigade. As a reminder, the Black Brigade is a group of anarchist activists who try by all means to bring down Tyrak in order to free Petria from his tyranny. But unfortunately the attack they carried out in '86 only provoked hatred towards them, calling them terrorists, and caused hundreds of deaths recorded during the collapse of the peak. The man at the head of this group, a man named Robert, is a long-time friend of John but also Lola's biology teacher, his real name being Bob Winters. Why did he change his name, to remain anonymous I guess. Still, if John has radically changed from 86 and the death of his wife Conny by trying to be more diplomatic than violent, Robert for his part has passed into the very dark side of the force and to do so, he will not hesitate to recruit teenagers in order to succeed in his plan. This guy is a real asshole. And this is what will convince John to distance himself from the group or at least with robert and that little by little he began a kind of rebellion within the Black Brigade. And the fact that Alex decides to help the Black Brigades by making a bomb, will push John even further away from the group. For him it’s the straw that breaks the camel's back. Moreover, depending on the order, if you are lucky enough to be able to convince Alex not to create the bomb before the meeting of the Brigades, a slight argument between John and Robert about it will break out, Robert pointing out to him that he has changed a lot to have come to betray his own group.

Redemption’s road for a man who lost everything.

So, if I had to conclude on John... well, he is a man who seeks redemption. If we take everything he has experienced, the most logical reaction would have been for him to be even more angry, to become more aggressive than before as Robert does. But the opposite is happening. Instead, he is looking for diplomatic ways to bring down Tyrak.  At least, he is less aggressive in his way of acting than Robert. And he doesn't do it to appease his conscience, he does it because he's the most adorable man you'll meet in the whole game. He will develop a kind of paternal instinct with Alex and he even goes so far as to warn Fanny not to go on a particular road in "Something is in the way" while they are enemies if we can say it that way. And yet, he saves her in a way, at least he tried because he does not know that she is already on this road. But the whole game shows us a physically impressive man, who doesn’t let himself be walked on, who shouldn’t be provoked when you annoy him but... Who deep down when we know him, we realize that he is a real cream. And that he didn’t deserve, just like Jarod, everything that happened to him. That's why... if I had to rank the characters according to my preferences, Stan and Mitch would of course be in first position because I love them to an unimaginable point, and I think I would rank Jarod and John just behind in second.

In my future fiction on Road 96, I will keep, at least try, john's personality as it is, maybe I will add a little of my vision of the character but I think that as for all the others I will try to keep them as they are while making them evolve. But one thing is for sure, John is a real protective Papa Bear and that's what makes him so endearing.

***

( That's it for this AFFO, don’t worry there will be others on Road 96, feel free to tell me what you think! Have a good week ! see ya!)

[teatitty]

Honestly your takes on Iruka are so refreshing this fandom treats him like he’s not a ninja and it’s so weird because he has quite a few A ranks under his belt along with being noted as having great potential I kind of wish it was explored more but who knows

You're so welcome because I've read many a fic where people act like he'd clutch his pearls over killing someone like guys. Fellas. He's been on multiple B and A rank missions. He's absolutely fucking killed many people before, not to mention all the times lower ranked missions simply Go To Hell or a client lies about how dangerous a job is etc. Shit happens. He's literally training kids to be killers he would not be doing that if he had some uwu innocent civilian mindset

And he has three chakra natures! Fire, Water and Yin, as taken from his actual databooks. There's so much you can do with that alone just by looking the various jutsu in those three categories! We know he uses strong barrier seals so it makes sense for so many of us to have him as an excuse to create Seal Jutsu lore but you can expand outside of it too!

His basics would be fucking flawless given how often he has to teach them to kids, his aim with a kunai or shuriken is probably immaculate, like sure in a 1V1 taijutsu fight he's not beating Gai because Gai is a literal expert at that style but that doesn't mean he can't do decent hand to hand against other shinobi and bandits and fighters!

I saw someone complain once that some fans make him overpowered enough to "break the canon" and that has me going tch because like. Kishimoto broke his own canon powerscaling all the time. The Sannin. Sasuke and Naruto. Pain. Madara and Hashirama. Kakuzu and Hidan. Obito for a long while. Fucking Danzo even. If canon is allowed to break itself multiple times then so are we

Cringe is dead make your faves as overpowered as you want for the stories you want to tell. For instance: me making Sakura the hokage in my canon instead of Naruto and having Ino and Hinata as her ANBU guards. Yanno

[quorras]

every time i see someone call tron 'cyberpunk', i lose ten years off my lifespan

[torontofetish]

if i were going to write a human au for amecan it would probably end up being something like a fur trapper au set in 1810-1820s where alfred and matthew are longtime partners (if you know what i mean) who brave the american wilderness together and get completely fucked up every time rendezvous comes around. just two bearded, unsocialized, stinky old mountain men alone together with their horses and their rifles and a lot of awkward but kinky sex under their buffalo hide blankets at night

[non-un-topo]

Kind of obsessed with this nickname actually