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thekillingvote · 1 year

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No Birds Allowed: Batman without Robin

The usual claim is that Jason Todd was singularly hated by audiences. Dick Grayson, Carrie Kelley, and Tim Drake are proper, beloved Robins—and Jason Todd is the one and only outlier so unlikable that audiences killed him off by popular vote.

But this claim ignores a massive piece of the puzzle—the Robin role has long been treated as an outdated remnant of a childish era, not only by a significant share of Batman fans, but also by Batman creative teams. While there were definitely fans who hated Jason Todd, he was at least partly chosen to be killed as a scapegoat for some long-standing complaints about the Robin role in Batman stories.

The 1988 poll to kill Jason Todd wasn't just a poll to kill Jason Todd—the poll to kill Robin was a poll to kill Robin.

Fan letters columns from Batman #221 and Detective Comics #398, reacting to Dick leaving for Hudson University in Batman #217 (1969):

Denny O'Neil Batman/Detective Comics writer (1970-1980) Batman group editor (1986-2000) on sending Robin away to Hudson University:

Dan Greenfield: Actually, last night I went back through my comics and the one thing that always strikes me is that before you came onto the character, they’d already made the decision to have Robin leave. Robin was up at Hudson University and was used sparingly from that point forward. Denny O’Neil: Well, that was a conscious decision of mine. Greenfield: Oh! O’Neil: Yeah, I mean … I had been offered Batman a year before I did it. Greenfield: No kidding? I wanna hear this. O’Neil: Because that was in the (Batman TV show) camp thing. The comics were very half-heartedly following in the footsteps of the camp because it was having a palpable effect on circulation. That’s not always true but it was in that case. Camp as in the sense — as opposed to the more erudite sense — this one-line joke about: “I loved this stuff when I was 6 and now that I’m 28 and I have a bi-weekly appointment with a therapist and a little, mild drug habit and two divorces, ‘Look how silly it is.'” I would go into the most literary bar in Greenwich Village on (Wednesday) or Thursday evenings and there would be writers and poets and college professors, all looking at Batman! But when that was over, it was over. It was like somebody turned a switch. And that’s when (editor) Julie (Schwartz) said, in his avuncular way, did I have any ideas for Batman? And at that point, I wasn’t going to be asked to do camp. I was going to be asked to do anything within the bounds of good taste, etc., that I wanted to.

O'Neil, quoted from “Notes from the Batcave: An Interview with Dennis O’Neil” in The Many Lives of The Batman: Critical Approaches to a Superhero and His Media:

There was a time right before I took over as Batman editor when he seemed to be much closer to a family man, much closer to a nice guy. He seemed to have a love life and he seemed to be very paternal towards Robin. My version is a lot nastier than that. He has a lot more edge to him.

O'Neil in 2015:

Modern Batman does not do camp. He has to evolve but to stay true to the concept he has to stay lonely. The kids, there shouldn't be many. Keep him the lone, obsessed crusader and the stories will be better. We did a story called Son of the Demon. It told a story where he had a kid, a baby. It wasn't in continuity. These days, the kid came back and became the new Robin, and I hear that Batman's got a few more running around.

Jim Starlin, Batman writer (1987-1988), writer of A Death in the Family:

I tried to avoid using [Robin] as much as I could. In most of my early Batman stories, he doesn’t appear. Eventually Denny asked me to do a specific Robin story, which I did, and I guess it went over fairly well from what I understand. But I wasn’t crazy about Robin.

I thought that going out and fighting crime in a grey and black outfit while you send out a kid in primary colors was kind of like child abuse. So when I started working on Batman, I was always leaving Robin out of the stories, and Denny O’Neil who is the editor finally said, "You gotta put [Robin] in."

youtube

In the one Batman issue I wrote with Robin featured, I had him do something underhanded, as I recall. Denny had told me that the character was very unpopular with fans, so I decided to play on that dislike. [...] At that time, DC had this idea that they were gonna do an AIDS education book, and so they put a box out and wanted everybody to put in suggestions of who should contract AIDS and perish in the comics. I stuffed it with Robin. They realized it was all my handwriting so they ended up throwing all my things out. About six months later, Denny came up with this idea of the call-in thing. [...] I didn’t find out about it until I came back [from Mexico] and found out that, just as I expected, my ghoulish little fans voted him dead. But by a much smaller margin than I’d imagined. It was only like 72 votes out of 10,000, so statistically it was next to nothing.

Dan Raspler, assistant editor/associate editor to Denny O’Neil (1988-1990):

Denny wasn’t really interested in comics continuity, and he didn’t like superheroes. And if you read his work, you see his influence was really a pushing away from the conventions at the time—it was growing old, that sort of Golden Age-y, Silver Age-y stuff, and Denny sort of modernized it, and he never stopped feeling that way. Jim Starlin’s Batman appealed to Denny. It was a little more ‘down to Earth. Nobody liked Robin at the time. For a while Robin was not—it didn’t make sense in comics. Comics were darkening, and so having the kid was just, it was silly, and even at the time I kind of didn’t. Now Robin is my favorite all-time character, but at the time when I was twenty-whatever, I accepted kicking Robin out, the short pants and all the rest of it.

Comic shop owner Phil Beracha on A Death in the Family, quoted in The Sun Sentinel (October 22, 1988):

"I got 100 copies, and I don't expect them to last past the weekend," said Phil Beracha, owner of Phil's Comic Shoppe in Margate. "I usually get 50 copies of Batman. I doubled my order, and I still expect to sell out." The readers voted right, Beracha said. "Robin is an outdated concept. He was created in the `40s, and back then in a comic book you could have a kid beating up grown men. I don't think that works today."

Writer Steve Englehart, quoted in "Batman, the Gamble; Warner Bros. is betting big money that a 50-year-old comic book vigilante will be a `hero for our times'" in the Los Angeles Times (June 18, 1989):

Writer Steven Englehart, who did a series of Batman stories in Detective Comics, also worked up some movie treatments. In a letter to Comics Buyer's Guide, he revealed the approach he had in mind, which would have pleased Batfanatics: "My first treatment had Robin getting blown away in the first 90 seconds, so that every reviewer in the country would begin his review with, `This sure isn't the TV show.' "

Michael Uslan, producer and film rights holder for the 1989 Batman film:

I only let Tim [Burton] see the original year of the Bob Kane/Bill Finger run, up until the time that Robin was introduced. I showed him the Steve Englehart/Marshall Rogers and the Neal Adams/Denny O'Neil stories. My biggest fear was that somehow Tim would get hold of the campiest Batman comics and then where would we be?

"Death Knell for the Campy Crusader" in the Orlando Sentinel (23 June 1989):

For most people, the name Batman summons up a picture of a clown in long johns, a Campy Crusader who - with the young punster Robin - ZAPed and POWed his way into our lives. That's the Batman that appeared on TV in the mid-'60s, and that's the Batman that the world at large knows. Such is the power of television. But this ludicrous image may become obsolete now that the new, $40 million Batman movie has opened. Robin is absent from the film, as are the perky Batgirl and the utterly superfluous Aunt Harriet of the TV series. And though the movie has plenty of sound effects, they don't appear on the screen as words, spelled out in neo-Brechtian absurdity.

Sam Hamm, writer for Batman (1989 live-action film):

The Case of the Disappearing Robin is high comedy. Tim (Burton) and I had worked out a plotline that did not include the Boy Wonder, whom we both regarded as an unnecessary intrusion. Really: Our hero was crazy to begin with. Did he have to prove it by enlisting a pimply adolescent to help him fight crime? Was Bat-Baby unavailable? But the studio was insistent: There was no such thing as solo Batman, there was only Batman and Robin. So, after holding off the executives for as long as we could, Tim and I realized we had better try to accommodate them. He flew up to my house in San Francisco and we walked around in circles for two days, finally deciding that there was no way to shoehorn Robin into our story. [...] We figured that if we managed to squeeze him in, the lame hacks who were making the sequel could worry about what to do with him next. When the film went into production in London, and ran seriously over budget, WB started looking for a sequence that could be cut to save money. And there was one obvious candidate: Intro Robin! So Robin was cut from the movie and shoved back to Batman Returns— from which he was cut yet again and shoved back to Batman Forever.

Grant Morrison on creating Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth (written 1987-1988, published 1989) with Dave McKean (see the annotated script's fourth page):

The original first draft of the script included Robin. Robin appeared in a few scenes at the beginning then remained at Police Headquarters for the bulk of the book, where he spent his time studying plans and histories of the house, in order to find a way in to help his mentor. Dave McKean, however, felt that he had already compromised his artistic integrity sufficiently by drawing Batman and refused point blank over for the Boy Wonder — so after one brave but ridiculous attempt to put him in a trench coat, I wisely removed him from the script.

Paul Dini on Batman: The Animated Series (1992), as told in the 1998 book Batman Animated:

The Fox Network, on the assumption that kids won't watch a kid’s show unless kids are in it, soon began insisting that Robin be prominently featured in every episode. When Fox changed the title from Batman: The Animated Series to The Adventures of Batman & Robin, they laid down the law-no story premise was to be considered unless it was either a Robin story or one in which the Boy Wonder played a key role. Out were underworld character studies like “It's Never Too Late"; in were traditional Batman and Robin escapades like “The Lion and the Unicorn.” A potentially intriguing Catwoman/Black Canary team-up was interrupted in midpitch to the network by their demand, “Where's Robin?” When the writers asked if they could omit Robin from just this one episode, Fox obliged by omitting the entire story. Looking back, there was nothing drastically wrong with Robin's full-time insertion into the series—after all, kids do love him. Our major gripe at the time was that it started turning the series into the predictable Batman and Robin show people had initially expected it would be. For the first season, Batman had been an experiment we weren't sure would work. We were trying out different ways of telling all kinds of stories with Batman as our only constant. For better or worse, having a kid forced him, and the series, to settle down.

Christian Bale, star of Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight trilogy (2008):

If Robin crops up in one of the new Batman films, I'll be chaining myself up somewhere and refusing to go to work.

Summed up

Among the keepers of Batman, there has been a vocal contingent arguing against the inclusion of Robin. They argue that Robin damages Batman's brooding, solitary persona. They argue that the concept of Robin is too ridiculous and fantastic for the grounded, gritty ideal of Batman. They argue that a respectable version of Batman shouldn't allow, encourage, or train "child soldiers" to endanger their lives fighting against violent evil-doers.

The original and most iconic Robin, Dick Grayson, has definitely benefited from his deep roots in DC lore and his consistent popularity among fans—and yet even he has been shunned from various Batman projects over the decades. When even he struggles to get his foot in the door, his successors face stiffer opposition.

So it's not quite correct to say that Jim Starlin hated Jason Todd. In his own words, Starlin wasn't fond of Robin, and his storytelling (most obviously A Death in the Family) set out to argue against Batman having any kind of "partner" at all. This, following the wildly successful comic that treated Barbara Gordon as a disposable prop. A growing audience welcomed the Dark Age, and the gruesome spectacles made of kid-friendly elements like Batgirl and Robin.

This trend could be broken by the upcoming sequel to The Batman and by the planned slate of upcoming DCU films. But most Robin fans will tell you that many movie-going Batman fans still have their doubts about Robin sharing Batman's spotlight.

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mystra-midnight · 1 year

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Haunted Hoedown - DAY ONE

summary: it was like white-hot lightning engulfed your body, setting your world on fire. lights of red and yellow flashed behind your eyes like a disco dance from hell. eddie didn't try to keep you quiet this time.

warnings: teenage!eddie x housewife!reader. unprotected sex. tiny hint of praise kink. hints of dacryphilia. overstimunation. squirting. age gap (eddie’s is 18, readers is 34). cheating (i don't condone this outside the world of fiction). readers husband and kids have names but reader doesn't; no use of y/n. reader has some body insecurities (but is a total milf in my head tbh).

words: 5.3k

notes: day one of the haunted hoedown challenge being hosted by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. i'm usually terrible at writing for challenges but i've had so much muse for eddie munson that this literally jumped off the pages. i might had missed the mark with the au setting tbh.

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You woke slowly, sleep heavy in your head, as the twittering of morning birds roused you when you wished it hadn't. The world was still dark, the cresting sunlight hardly peaking over the horizon to illuminate it. On your bedside table, your alarm clock flashed, the hard red numbers burning your eyes.

6:30. Blink. 6:30. Blink. 6:31.

Groaning, you reached up to rub your tired eyes, disturbing the crusties that had formed overnight as you swung your legs to the side of the bed. Your bare feet touch the cold tiles, drawing a shiver down the length of your spine.

It was another mundane Monday: wake up, wake your teenage son, wake the twins, make everyone breakfast, get the twins dressed, drive everyone to school, do the weekly shopping, come home, and clean the house before cooking dinner.

You'd had the same routine every week, every Monday, like clockwork, for the past fifteen years. It wasn't that you regretted marrying your husband or having children. You loved them all, but life had felt boring lately—plain and boring.

You lived a comfortable life. Not above your means or in the lap of luxury, but comfortably. You weren't a nineteen-year-old wild child any more. You were thirty-four, a mature mother. And this morning, it sucked.

Peter touched you for the first time in weeks last night, and it wasn't with a young lover's rage. He'd laid between your legs for an hour until an orgasm punched the air from your lungs, huffing and complaining the entire time, making your climax take longer than it should have. He'd made it seem almost like a chore, and you hadn't said anything; you'd rolled over and gone to sleep, like you had every other time.

And try as you might to understand him, it still hurt. It had been years since he'd surprised you with flowers just because he wanted to. He didn't initiate sex like he used to; there were no spontaneous romps in the kitchen while the kids were out and no skinny-dipping in the pool at midnight.

You knew you'd put on some weight after the birth of the twins. It was harder to lose this time around, and even though he still said you were beautiful and kissed all the parts of your body that you hated, it didn't feel the same anymore. He didn't look at you with wild desire anymore.

You tried to shove your hurt down deep; time changed things; it changed him and you. At least that was what you told yourself while you brushed your teeth, staring at the crows' feet that cinched the edges of your eyes. And you told yourself again as you woke your teenage son, who was in the stage of life where he thought he was ten-foot-tall and bulletproof; he’d inherited your sense of sarcasm, as your husband often reminded you.

And you told yourself a third time while you fried sausage links and scrambled eggs. And finally, you told yourself this for the last time when your husband rushed into the kitchen, panicking because he'd overslept and would be late for work again. He'd barely stopped to acknowledge the breakfast spread on the table. He shoved a triangle of toast into his mouth and then was out the front door without so much as a goodbye.

The next few hours blurred together as you finished getting the twins ready for kindergarten while your teenage son protested having to go to school at all, claiming it was stupid, pointless, and useless. Somehow, by some miracle or divine intervention, you managed to get them all ready and to school on time. But that brought you to your current predicament.

There, sitting on the kitchen counter, was the lunch you'd so lovingly packed for your son. You felt your blood boiling with annoyance, your brain skipping between letting him go hungry or taking it to him. But no matter how mad you were, you couldn't let him starve.

So you drove back to the school, fifteen minutes away, for the second time. A little bell rang as you shoved the door open, which drew Lotti's attention from where she sat behind the front desk. She smiled as you approached.

"Let me guess, Corey forgot his lunch again?"

Her lips were tipped into a kind smile, one that mirrored your own tired expression. You hummed with dry amusement before placing the brown paper bag on the counter. "Walked right past it. I swear sometimes he does it on purpose."

"Sounds about right. Teenagers right?"

"You’re telling me. Can you make sure it gets to him before lunch?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Lotti," you said with a smile before stepping away from the counter. You had every intention of leaving and going to do the weekly shopping, but you stopped when you saw Eddie Munson sitting on one of the waiting room chairs. He was sitting with his head in his hands, hiding his face, but you could see he was pale and clammy.

Most people wouldn't have given him the time of day, but you liked Eddie. He was friends with your son and was always polite and helpful when he spent the night. He would wash up the dishes and play with the twins to give you a much-needed break.

Eddie was a good kid.

He wasn't trailer trash, as some people had taken to calling him. It always infuriated you when you heard them say such vile things about Eddie and his uncle. People were quick to throw stones, but none of them ever took the time to get to know the people they judged.

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder but still startled the poor boy. Eddie jerked back in his seat and stared up at you with big brown eyes, his raised eyebrows hidden behind his wild curls, and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your heart broke all over again.

"Eddie, baby, what’s going on? Are you alright?"

"I don’t feel well," he answered, his tone dejected with a hint of misery. You lowered yourself into the seat at his side, sliding your hand up and down his back in a comforting way.

"Is Wayne on his way to take you home?"

"No, ma’am."

You internally flinched. Wayne had raised him to be respectful to his elders and especially to women, and he was, despite his metalhead persona. But when he called you ma'am, you always felt like a frumpy old woman.

"He’s working a double today. He won’t be able to pick me up until after one."

You checked your wristwatch for the time. It was hardly nine in the morning. Eddie would be waiting here for hours, feeling sick, miserable, and uncomfortable. You patted his knee and gave him a soft smile.

"I’ll be right back." You stood and moved back to the counter, smiling as Lotti looked up at your approach.

"Lotti, can you call Wayne for me?"

The beauty of small towns meant that she already knew what thoughts were going through your mind. She dialled the number for the auto shop Wayne worked at and handed you the phone. You listened to the dial tone ring and ring before the line finally picked up.

"Hi Wayne, it’s me."

You worried for a minute that he wouldn’t recognise your voice. You and Wayne went to school together a literal lifetime ago. For a while, you’d been sweet on him, but nothing had come from that school yard crush.

"Hey, love, what do you need?"

"Well, I’m at the school. Corey forgot his lunch again, and Eddie’s here in the waiting room. He’s not well, and I was thinking that since you're not able to pick him up, would it be alright if I brought him home? Just for a few hours until he feels better. He can rest in the spare room."

You didn’t know why you felt the need to explain everything in such detail. It wasn’t like you were about to kidnap his eighteen-year-old nephew and drive to Mexico. And given how small Hawkins was, it wasn’t like you could make it that far. You muffle your amused laughter at the thought when you notice Lotti giving you a strange look.

"You can drop him off at the trailer, love. He’ll be alright alone for a few hours."

You looked over at Eddie, hunched over again, hiding his face in his hands, and you knew that that option wasn’t on the table. You’re shook your head a few times before you remembered that Wayne couldn’t see you. "No, no, it’s okay. I wouldn’t feel right leaving him alone when he’s like this. It'll only be a few hours, and then I’ll drop him home when you finish work, okay?"

"Alright, thanks for this."

"It’s what friends are for, Wayne."

Handing Lotti back the phone, you bid her goodbye a second time before going back to Eddie. You place a hand on his shoulder again. He's prepared this time and isn't surprised to find you staring down at him with kind eyes. "Come on, Eddie. I’m going to take you home with me. We’ll get you some water and medicine, and you can rest until your uncle finishes work."

For a minute, it seemed like he's going to protest before he gives in, likely too tired to refuse your kindness. He follows you to the car in silence and doesn't speak for the entire fifteen-minute drive. You glanced at him now and then to make sure he's okay, only to find him asleep with his cheek smushed against the glass.

He's not happy when you gently shake him awake, but he mumbles a thank-you despite himself. Eddie lets you help him inside the house and into the bed in the spare room, which he could have found himself.

Once he was settled beneath the blankets, his dark curls contrasting with the plush white pillows, you went ahead and got him a glass of water and medicine to help him feel better. He was already asleep when you got back, so you left them on the nightstand before going about the rest of your day.

You'd decided that the weekly shopping could wait until tomorrow, which prompted a silly laugh from you while you washed the dishes from breakfast. It was so scandalous that your Monday weekly shop would be done on a Tuesday. That was about the most exciting thing that had happened since the birth of the twins.

The day became a blur as you moved about the house on autopilot. You picked up toys from the floor and put them into the matching trunks at the end of the twins beds, no doubt mixing up which ones belonged to Alice and which ones belonged to Anna. Then you cleaned Corey's room. You groaned when you opened the door only to find a mountain of spoons, bowls, and cups scattered around his computer desk.

You swore if there was an apocalypse and spoons became the world's currency, he’d never go hungry. You washed them next, then put on a load of laundry to wash while you hung out the load you'd put on earlier in the morning.

By the time midday rolled around, you felt like you were actually accomplishing something, which was a strange feeling. Normally, by this time, you'd feel overwhelmed, underappreciated, and drained all at the same time.

Maybe you felt that way because Eddie was still asleep in the guest room. You'd be mortified if he woke up to find your house in such a sorry state. But you didn't need to worry about that now.

You made yourself something to eat—a simple bologna sandwich—and made one for Eddie as well. He'd been in the room for a few hours now, and you imagined he would wake hungry, especially if he hadn't eaten breakfast again. The few times he’d spent the night here during the school week, he’d woof down the pancakes you made as though he were starving.

Wayne worked hard to provide for him, but you could see it was a struggle. You didn’t mind having Eddie over, feeding him, or even donating clothes when his own were beyond repair. Wayne always promised to pay you back, but you both knew that wouldn’t happen. You’d maybe let him work on your car as a favour, but you could never accept money from him.

With a plate in hand, you knocked on the door. Hearing Eddie's soft groans from the other side, you pushed it open, assuming he was awake. The sight that greeted you was not what you were expecting. He was lying on top of the sheets with his dark denim jeans and boxers shoved down his thighs, cock in his hand as he fisted it.

The sight of his heels digging into the mattress and his hips rising to thrust the length of him into his hand made your brain short-circuit, leaving you wide-eyed and open-mouthed. It was only the sound of the plate clattering against the tiles that drew his attention.

"Oh shit, shit!" Eddie shouted as he yanked a pillow to cover himself. You had already turned away, the door slamming shut behind you as you quickly left the room. You pressed your back against the door and covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound of your heavy breathing.

You weren't meant to see that.

You definitely weren't meant to see that.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to calm your racing heart, but it didn't help. Images of him flashed through your mind: the bulge of the veins in his forearm as he tugged relentlessly on his cock, how his lips were parted in breathless gasps, and how your name had sounded like Molton Lava falling from his tongue, hot and heavy.

There had been a bead of pre-cum that you'd seen before his thumb moved over it, spreading it along his shaft like lubricant. His chest had risen and fallen with quick breaths as he worked himself into a frenzy, hurtling towards orgasm like a train with its brakes cut.

Had he been thinking about you? Was that why he'd been moaning your name?

Your face felt like it was burning when he knocked on the door, making you almost jump out of your skin. You held the handle tightly to stop him from opening it; you weren't sure you could look him in the eye right now, but he didn't try.

"I’m sorry," he said softly. He sounded sheepish and sincere. "I didn’t mean for you to see that. It’s just... that you're so fucking hot."

You heard him pause and could swear you heard the gears in his mind turning as he tried to articulate his thoughts. It made you feel better to imagine that he was red in the face, blushing with embarrassment more than the impending orgasm he'd been working himself towards.

"Eddie," your own voice was soft and shaking, as were your hands. It wasn't that Eddie wasn't attractive—hell, if you'd been about ten years younger, you'd be riding him just like you'd ridden his uncle in high school. But you were old enough to be his mother, for crying out loud!

"I can leave if you want."

"No! It's not that." You answered quickly—too quickly—with your thoughts moving too fast for you to make sense of them. It had been years since you'd been this flustered. Peter hadn't made you blush in a long, long time. He didn't touch himself while thinking about you.

He didn't love you anymore; your mind graciously and ruthlessly provided.

"What do you want?" Eddie asked in an impossibly soft voice.

"Jesus, Eddie, I don't know!" You shouted through the door. You felt exasperated, confused, and aroused. "I'm old enough to be your mother. And I'm married!"

He had the good grace to be silent, and while you appreciated the moment with your own thoughts, you found them betraying you. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining Eddie, not your husband. His hands on your body, his lips smashed against yours, his breath on your neck, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips so tight while his cock split you open.

You mentally admonished yourself.

We're horny teenagers with mummy issues your type now?

No, it wasn't that.

It was Eddie; he was your type.

Brooding, filled with emotional rage, the personification of a rebel yell. With his dimpled smile, wild curls, studded belts, and rings for days, he was every high school girl's wet dream.

"I'll be your dirty little secret if that's what you're into."

You shouldn't want to open the door. You shouldn’t be excited and dripping wet from having caught him masturbating. You shouldn't want him.

But when Eddie said that, it's the nail in the coffin that sealed your fate.

You stared at him after opening the door. A part of you was expecting to see him wearing a malicious smirk or his typical joking smile, the one that's lopsided and goofy. But that same part of you is ecstatic that he was entirely serious and that he's still hard.

The outline of his cock was prominent against his jeans, straining against the zipper as your eyes roved down his body and up, taking in every inch of him. It must have been the look in your eyes that encouraged him because the next second Eddie kissed you, all teeth, tongue, and male arousal.

He was rough as he grabbed your upper arms, pulling you against his chest and into the room. The bedroom door slammed shut with an awful bang seconds before he’d all but thrown you onto the bed.

You shouldn't have enjoyed being manhandled. You shouldn't want him, but you do.

His kisses were hot. It was like lava pouring into your mouth and free-flowing through your veins until it felt like you were burning alive, your skin aflame wherever he touched. His hands were rough but gentle at the same time, leaving you with emotional whiplash. Eddie grabbed you with urgency, as though you were all that kept him from being engulfed in this wild fantasy.

And as he stripped you, methodically removing each article of clothing until you were naked beneath him, he took the time to appreciate every inch of your body. He didn't seem to notice the way you tried to hide yourself—hands covering the stretch marks and skin left behind after pregnancy, your thighs rubbing together to hide the obvious sheen of arousal. You grab his face between your hands and pull him in for another fiery kiss to stop his eyes from wandering.

The pads of his fingers were calloused from summers of hard work with his uncle in the shop and hours of guitar playing, creating a rough drag against your skin. He fondles your tits, palming them, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb until they pebble, until you whine against his lips; the sound he pulls from your throat is positively whoreish.

By the time he dragged his hands down your stomach, you were soaked, the slick of your arousal dripping down your backside to dampen the mattress. Eddie mouthed your neck, leaving broad, wet stripes over your racing pulse with his tongue. "You're so fucking hot," he groaned while pulling your thighs apart. You want to be embarrassed, but when his lips close around one of your nipples, embarrassment flies out the window.

You should have felt guilty. Your chest should have been tight and your heart heavy. Instead, all you could feel was the delicious slide of his tongue over and around your nipple and the way his teeth burrowed so faintly into your sensitive flesh.

He paid the same attention to the opposite one, sucking, swirling, and biting until both were hardened peaks that crowned your breasts. When he lifted his mouth, your skin glistened with his saliva, a line of it connecting his lips to your nipple before it settled into place on your stomach. And then he was everywhere—his mouth trailing down your stomach, his lips, his tongue, his palmy breath, even all the places that you hated.

He took his time, each caress of his lips and swipe of his tongue unhurried as he worshipped your body in ways you hadn't realised you’d been craving. He pressed his palms against the inside of your knees, forcing your legs apart as he slotted himself between them. His breath was hot against your bare cunt, which glistened with obvious arousal.

Eddie gave a low whistle that made you blush.

"Stop," you whispered when your eyes met his lust-blown orbs. You tried to bring your thighs together to stifle the growing ache at your core, but he forced your knees apart.

The gasp he tore from your throat with the first touch of his tongue was loud and strangled. Eddie used the tip to lick from your clenching hole to your clit, gathering your arousal and swallowing it down with a lustful moan that vibrated through your cunt. His fingers tightened at your knees, leaving prints behind when he licked you again, making your hips buck hard enough to almost dislodge him.

"Jesus Christ, baby," he breathed out. "Your pussy's so fucking juicy."

It was all he said before his mouth was on you, his tongue pushing through your slick folds and into your clenching hole to drag the arousal from you. He was methodical, making your hips jerk and twitch. It was like electricity had replaced your blood, turning your body into live wires and leaving you a twitching, writing mess as Eddie lapped at your cunt relentlessly.

Maybe it was it’s months and weeks of bottled-up frustrations; maybe it’s was your feelings of inadequacy and insecurities melting away; maybe it’s was the sheer ridiculousness of sleeping with someone other than your husband; whatever the reason, Eddie and his wicked tongue have you hurtling towards climaxing faster than you thought possible.

Eddie grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed when you pulled on his hair; his mouth was now the only thing that kept your hips pinned. It was the stab of his tongue into your quivering hole and his nose bumping into your throbbing clit that threw you over the edge.

Not once did he stop, even as heaven and hell clashed violently around you, leaving you crying beneath the assault of his tongue. It started with white-hot lightening sparking to life in your heart and then settled into a static hum behind your ears when you sagged back to the bed. Your bones felt like jelly, and your limbs trembled with each aftershock.

His tongue pushed through your folds again and again, leaving you a whimpering mess, which was music to his ears. He left broad, wet stripes along your lips, your clit, and your hole, drawing your orgasm out much longer than you thought possible.

Eddie kissed you hard while you regained your senses and came back to earth, his lips working over yours while he ran his hands down your sides and gripped your hips tightly. "Felt good, baby?" he cooed. His voice sounded almost mocking as he pushed a hand between your thighs, the calloused tips of his fingers a rough drag against your clit as he gathered your spend to lubricate them.

The noise he drew from you was whoreish. Your eyes snapped shut while your back arched involuntarily. You twisted your fingers around the sheets when the pleasure began to race too close behind your first orgasm, bordering on too much, too quickly.

"Eddie, Eddie, please, I'll die," you managed to gasp out, your voice straining when he pushed two fingers into your clenching hole, making the arch in your back deepen. He kissed your neck, his teeth leaving faint marks behind on your skin. You grab at his hair again and pull it hard to make him stop before he can leave bruises for your husband to see.

"Not yet, sweet girl; you can give me another one."

He made it sound like a question, but he wasn’t asking one.

The drag of his fingers through your slick walls had your mind going blank as he doubled down on you. Your head is thrown back as nothing comes out of your parted lips. Your thighs trembled to the point of cramps as your walls spasmed suddenly around his fingers. You'd never known that your orgasms could crash so close together; it's like ocean waves crashing over sand—it happens once, and then again, and again.

It was like there was a string that ran the length of your body, and it was being pulled tighter and tighter by the prod of his fingers as he curled them and changed the angle until he finally found that spongy sweet spot that had galaxies and stars bursting to life behind your eyes. You back arched until it hurt, then snapped straight as he fingered you through your orgasm.

Only when your body went limp did he pull his fingers from you. The sound of them moving through your soaked folds was obscene, but not as much as the sight of him licking them clean. Eddie brought them to his lips, his devil’s tongue snaking free to greedily lap up your spend with a throaty moan.

You blink at him slowly to clear the blur of tears from your eyes, but more fell each time your lashes swept atop the apples of your cheeks. Eddie smiled smugly before moving to stand at the side of the bed so he could strip himself in a hurry. He threw his jacket and shirt across the room haphazardly and left his jeans and boxers pooled together on the floor. You watched with half-lidded doe eyes as he stroked himself.

He was far bigger than you'd realised before. When you'd walked in on him, it had all happened so fast—you'd seen him but hadn't seen him.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth and chewed on it while he crawled up the bed to hover over you, his cock bobbing proudly against his stomach with each movement. "Ready, pretty girl?" He asked as he mouthed up the hollow of your throat before capturing your lips before you could answer.

It wouldn't take a genius to understand why he's asking. He was giving you a chance to change your mind, to tell him to stop and preserve whatever modesty and dignity you have left. He was giving you an out, but you were already lost in him. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and dug your heels into the backs of his thighs to bring him closer. The glide of his cock between your slick folds and the way his mushroom head nudged your overstimulated clit, were delicious. You moaned against his lips. Eddie took this as permission and sank into the warm, wet tightness of your cunt with a single thrust, hissing with pleasure as he seated himself fully within your walls.

"So fucking tight for me," he grunted against your lips. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were screwed shut as he stilled and gave you a moment to adjust to his invasion. Eddie was bigger than Peter, both in length and girth, leaving your brain short-circuiting and sparking. He was pressed against every delicious spot inside your gummy walls, so that it felt like he was pressed against your cervix, and deeper still.

Your lips opened and closed and opened again in silent, breathless moans when he began to move, setting a gruelling pace right from the start. You weren't a virgin; he knew that. He knew he didn't need to go slow or be gentle. He could throw you over the edge and into oblivion and make you scream his name without any preamble.

He took over your world as he fucked you.

The scent of his cologne was deep in your lungs from where your face was buried against the side of his neck, just so you could attack his skin with sweet kisses and blistering bites. Your hands mapped every inch of his skin that you could reach, committing each detail to memory: the faint dusting of freckles over his nose, the slope of his neck, the way the muscles down his back would shift and tense each time he moved, drawing out and thrusting back in with wild intent.

You could feel yourself oozing—a warm trickle of liquid that rolled down your backside only to be lost in the sheets as he fucked you hard enough to make your tits and tummy jiggle. And as he frantically kissed you, desperately trying to keep you from being too loud, you saw the way his jaw tensed and the flush of colour that crept up his throat and into his face. He was steamrolling towards orgasm like a skydiver caught in a free fall, no wind in his sails, no way to stop.

"Eddie, Eddie." It was a whine, a desperate plea, but for what? You couldn't say.

You canted your hips, raising them to meet the piston of his, so that he could drive himself as deep as possible and crash into the spongy sweet spot he'd found earlier. And when he found it, he didn't stop.

Eddie grabbed one of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and pinned you hard against the mattress. His other hand snaked between your bodies to find your clit, which was still sensitive and throbbing. Eddie drew tight, quick circles around your nub, punching more and more air from your lungs with each rotation when, out of nowhere, the pressure suddenly becomes too much.

The way all your muscles seize had you suddenly panicked, your walls tightening around him like a vice, earning a hiss of pleasure from his tight-lipped expression. He still didn’t stop. You stare at him wide-eyed, your voice strangled, as you try to articulate the way the pressure is building too fast and moving too far beyond what you understand is normal.

"Ed-Eddie, fuck, s'too much!" You cried out as you threw your head from side to side. Tears fell from your eyes like waterfalls, sliding down your temples and disappearing into your sweat-damp hair. You felt yourself tightening around him. He managed a deep groan at the first sign of your leaking cunt.

You grabbed his wrist wildly, your nails clawing at his skin. Your body trembled violently, screamed at you to make him stop. Your brain begged for more.

Another perfectly aimed thrust of his hips, his cock sliding through your quivering walls, his thumb on your clit changing directions, finally broke you. You threw your head back; your eyes opened wide, but you saw nothing as you screamed. It was like white-hot lightning engulfed your body, setting your world on fire. Lights of red and yellow flashed behind your eyes like a disco dance from hell.

Eddie didn't try to keep you quiet this time. Each drawback and push forwards deluged his cock with liquid. He still didn't stop. His mouth was affixed with awe, permanently hanging open as you drenched him, yourself, and the sheets. "Holy fucking hell, baby, just like that, Jesus... fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He couldn't hold back, even if he'd wanted to. He grabbed you roughly by the hips, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he buried himself. Eddie came hard—harder than he'd ever come before. He felt each rope shoot from himself despite the tremors in his body, and he knew that you felt it too. Your walls were on repeat, gripping him, releasing him, and gripping him again, like a record stuck on repeat.

There was relief in his eyes when he slumped forwards, his chest pressing tight against yours. He brushed his face into the crook of your shoulder, curls tickling at your skin as he laughed breathlessly. "I didn't know you could do that," he muttered against your dewy skin, tasting your sex-sweet sweat.

"I didn't know I could do that."

#haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader

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sofasoap · 2 years

Text

Ner Kar'ta

Pairing : Din Djarin x f!reader.

Summary: Din claiming back what is rightfully his.

part 6 and finale to Heartbreak

MAJOR Warning : Bit of spoilers for Season 3, turn back now if you haven’t watched it.

N1 is cool, but it is too small. Din got something else.

Mature theme. strong languages. All mando’a are from the good old google, soooooo might be full of mistakes. And the timeline and lores might be a bit funky. It’s AU. just… roll with it.

English isn’t my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes.

A/N: I really want to thank @groguspicklejar , @deakyjoe and all the readers to push me to write this series, I had a lot of fun writing this. Never would I thought from turning from Din fanfic reader to Din fanfic writer. One of my new year resolutions was to be more creative either to start to write or draw. So thank you, again, for pushing me out of my comfort zone.

MASTERLIST for the previous stories to this 6 and half part fic.

Bird chirping, sounds of waterfall in the distance slowly waking you up. You buried yourself deeper into your silky bedsheet and duvet, trying hard to fall back to sleep. Not often you get to sleep in such a nice comfortable bed since you went on the run. Turning a little, searching the warmth of your riduur.

A stinging sensation followed by a dull headache pulls you back into awakeness. Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with an unfamiliar yet familiar ceiling, one that you wake up everyday since you were young. Shocking realisation hit you.

YOU ARE ON NABOO.

“... I have new information from Bo-Katan where the living water might be in Mandalore. There might be a chance it’s actually safe. The curse might be a lie after all.” Din murmured into your hair.

“I was planning to make a trip there before Karga called me unexpectedly about the bounty.” He pulled away from you a bit, “I don’t want you to leave my side but I have to do this on my own, I have to redeem myself.” Although you don’t really agree with his fixation of redeeming himself and angry with his own Covert is so readily to abandon him after what he has done for them? Deep down you know this is very important for Din, you just have to let him do it. But something is nagging you, nudging you that it would not go all smooth sailing as he wishes, So you encourage him to take his son with him. “Take Grogu with you. Show him Manda’yim. Beside, I am sure our little ad’ika would love to go on an adventure with his buir.” our ad’ika

You will be safe here with Fett under his protection. So he thought. So does everyone else. Who would be bold enough to harm the Daimyo’s personal ward? How wrong they were. Din should know your parents wouldn’t put the bounty on you with only one guild. Their desperation trying to get their last chance of getting their golden pelikki back?

You were grabbing dinner from the cantina for both you and Peli, as per usual, same old routine, when the bounty hunters ambushed you. “Your riduur put up a good fight.” Fett apologised when he handed the vibroblade that you dropped back to Din, “ We found two dead bounty hunters in the alley, fatal stab wounds right in their neck.” Din smiled sadly. Pride swells in his heart. He knew you wouldn’t give in so easily. But guilt took over his heart . He should have left Grogu with you on Tatooine. Grogu would have saved you with his power. But he barely survived his redemption journey himself with unexpected enemies. A karking mythasour. If it wasn’t for Grogu and Bo-Katan’s help, he wouldn’t be here. “ I am sorry Vod, I broke my promise to you. I didn’t expect them to be so bold to intrude into my territory.” Din shook his head. “ No one expected this, what happened has happened. At least we know she is still alive.” She better be alive, Din thought. The only hope he had was the bounty specifying you HAVE to be brought in alive. You were no use to your parents if you were dead. He only just got you back into his life, his clan of three back together again. He can’t imagine losing you again, FOREVER.

Think Din, THINK.

Sad cooing sound brought him back to reality. Grogu looked up at his buir, ears down, as if asking where you were, where is his other buir, while tapping on his darksaber. He’s got an idea. Not the one he really wants to do. But he has no choice but to save his riduur, his heart.

“I thought it might be time for you to wake up.” Your nanny fussed as she helped you out of bed. “ I am sorry about the new scar on your face. I have put some bacta cream on it, hopefully it will heal up in the next few days.”

You look around your bedroom. Nothing has changed. The decoration, the bookshelf, wardrobe. Seems no one has touched anything since you ran away that night.

You knew your parents wouldn’t give up so easily. You let your guard down too much thinking under the Daimyo’s protection you will be safe within the city limit. Should have known there are always the unexpected factor and the bold ones that will go for the big money bounty in desperation. They ambushed you in an alleyway near the cantina, you have forgotten your blaster (again) back at the workshop, but you were glad you carried Din’s gift on you all the time. You manage to fend off two of the bounty hunters, when the third snuck up behind you, jabbed you with some sort of tranquilliser agent, and you blanked out afterwards. You touch your face, feeling the fresh scar added alongside your old one. You sighed and thought to yourself sarcastically, good thing you are married. Din never cared about the scar on your face. You remember on your wedding night, after both of you coming down from the blissful high, he gently caresses the scar on your face.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of your scar. The Mandalorians are proud of each scar they bare. Proves of battle and triumph from the struggles you have been through“

A nudge from your nanny brought you back into reality again. She pulled out a dress from the wardrobe. “Your mother has organised the suitor to meet up with you today.” She mentioned as she help you to put on the dress. “The diplomat’s son?” Eyes widen, you begin to think how many days you have been knocked out or your parents' efficiency in organising meet-ups is faster than speed of light. To sell you off to the highest bidder.

“ Yes, it seems they really want you to be their daughter in law.” You rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. You have disappeared for so many cycles, one would have thought they would have given up by now and moved on to find a more appropriate socialite to marry.

Looking at yourself in the mirror. As much as you despise the woman who has given birth to you, you have to admit she does have very good taste in fashion. Subconsciously your hand goes towards your stomach. Feeling of flutter emerges from your heart as you place your hand there. “... I am glad to see you again, ad’ika” your nanny whispered as she put on some hair accessories and a veil over the side of your face, to cover up the scar. “ I am too, I miss you a lot while I was away. I hope the family has treated you well.” You see your nanny’s sad smile in the reflection of the mirror, that says it all. They wouldn’t have forgiven her lightly for letting you run away that night. “ … I can’t stay. I can’t follow my parent’s wish to marry the diplomat’s son.I .. I am already married. To a Mandalorian.” you confessed after a brief silence. You see your nanny’s eyes widened with surprise and start laughing softly. “ OH my child… all the stories I have told you about our people really made an impact on you, didn’t it?” Finishing off the last bit of the make up, she turned you around, holding your face, lightly. “ I hope he’s been treating you well?” “ Well… he was being a big di’kut but eventually redeemed himself.” She laughed at your choice of description of Din. “ I am glad. I am glad you found your happiness.” wiping away tears in her eyes, she pulls you up from the chair, giving you one last over before heading out of the room for the meeting you've been dreading for.

Walking down the corridor, you took note of possible escape points and routes. You know chances of you slipping away this time round is pretty slim. You know how good the security system and guards are around the estate. If anything they would have changed and upgraded the codes since you were last here.

Cyar’ika.. I miss you.. Please come and get me soon.

Your father sat on the chair, nursing a glass of Blossom wine, while your mother pacing up and down the large parlour room, waiting anxiously for the guest to turn up. They haven’t changed a bit, you thought. The tone of mockery after you greeted them, not even bothering to ask after your welfare, the time you spend on the run. Fusses over how you should be behaving after the “ very important guest who can change the future of the family” shows up. Same old same old, like nothing has happened. you thought, setting a bounty on your own flesh and blood and eagerly selling her off again. All of sudden the servant slams open the door to the parlour. “My.. .My lord and ladies!!” , they panting away. “What is all the fuss about??? Is the guest here yet?”

They shook their head.

“There's an unexpected visitor, he.. He said he’s King of Mandalore and.. And demands his wife to be returned to him at once!” Your heart soared. DIN. Your riduur has come for you. But… what is the deal with ….

Right behind the servants, you see A WHOLE GROUP of Mandalorians, with Fennec and Boba Fett, led on by Din, marching down the hallway straight for the parlour. All the servants dodge out of the way in fear, giving way to the group.

You heard your nanny’s light gasp beside you, that is when you noticed the darksaber in Din’s hand. Instead of his tattered cape, he is wearing a full length dark coloured fur cape. Regal was the first word popped into your head as you took a good look at him. You were in awe of the aura he is emitting right now, leading his people to come and demand your return. You didn’t think it could happen again but you have fallen in love with Din all over again. A joyful coo and scream caught your attention, you noticed Grogu jumped out from Fennec’s arm and proceeded to leap towards you. You rushed forward and scooped your son up into your arm. “Oh ner ad, pehea Ni mirdir gar.” (Oh my son how I missed you). You hugged him tightly.

“ What is THAT disgusting thing you are holding?!!” your mother shrieked. You turned around,facing towards your mother, glaring at her, “ His name is GROGU, he is MY son, my ad’ika. And mother, father, I would be watching your mouth in front of my husband.”

“ Your.. Your husband?!”

Smiling sweetly, you tilted your head, “ Yes, my husband. The King of Mandalore. Didn’t you two always want me to marry into a high society? Now you have your wishes granted.” Turning around again, you held a hand out towards your nanny, pulling her along as you stride towards Din, head held up high. Stopping right in front of him, making an exaggerated curtsy as you jokes, “ Quite an entourage you have brought with you, my Mand’alor.” The large tall Mandalorian in blue armour elbowed Din when he just stood there, not replying, just staring at you through his visor. Din was awestruck by your appearance as soon as he burst into the room. There you were, standing in front of the room, sunlight streaming in through the window. The breeze blowing the veil that was half covering the face, and the beautiful white backless long sleeve dress, with a silver neckpiece holding up the dress. It accentuates your figure perfectly. His riduur, his Queen.

Your parents were still screaming and demanding an answer in the background, Din pulled you beside him, raising his darksaber towards them.

“ If you don’t want to cause a diplomatic situation here, I would strongly suggest you shut your mouth up.” taking a step closer, he growled, “ And if you dare to set another bounty on her again, you would have the whole covert of Mandalorian waging war on you.” Not even waiting for an answer, he turned around and led the whole group out of the room, leaving your parents behind.

Din’s arm never left your side until the private landing platforms for ships in your parent’s estate. There you see several space crafts, including Din’s , parked there. You gave Grogu a big kiss on his forehead before letting him down as he waddled towards Fett and Fennec. As you stood back up, Din pulled you into a tight embrace. “ I am sorry I came late…” You can hear the emotion in his voice, even through the modulator. You pull his helm down for a keldabe kiss. “ I have no doubt you will come for me Din.. I never doubt it.” you whispered back. He swore this will never happen again. Once is too much. He can’t forgive himself for letting it happen. “ Stop it Din, I know what you are thinking. It’s not your fault.” You gave him a light slap on his chest armour. “ I should have been more careful and carried my weapons around.”

As if you have reminded him of something, he took the vitroblade out from his side belt, and handed it back to you.

“So, Mand’alor?” You smirked.

Din sighed, “ Long story…”

“ Oi, love birds,let’s get out of here. You can give each other hugs and kisses later.” The blue Mandalorian from before barges into the moment, hurrying everyone to move along. Din turned towards him, presumably glaring at the Blue Mando, “Do you have to Paz? I just got my riduur back.” Paz, you assume is the name of the Blue Mando, started laughing. Back to your home. Where you belong.

The ship landed softly on the grass. The ramp landing opened slowly, Grogu and the two children ran out into the field, screaming and laughing. You waddle slowly down the ramp with a blanket under your arm. With you heavily pregnant with the third child, Din nervously hovers around you. Afraid you will fall apart any moment. “Din, I've been through this twice. You know I am not going to crumble apart just by walking!” He knows it, but him being so overprotective with his family, he just couldn’t stop fussing.

After the bounty event from few cycles ago, Din explained to you how he became the Mand’alor. He knew where to find you, with all the details on the bounty puck, as you have mentioned to him once your family was quite known on Naboo, so it was an easy lead. But he couldn’t just march into Naboo, causing a scene, there will be a high chance both of you would never leave the planet safely, without a new bounty set on both of you by the republic or a whole army of Naboo soldiers chasing both of you down. Din had no choice but to claim his place as Mand’alor with his ownership of Darksaber, and also to ask Paz for help. “You will owe me a big time, Din Djarin.” Paz warned. “ And you know I still want to challenge you for the right to the darksaber…” Din mentioned Paz’s riduur gave Paz an earful immediately after, growling at him for putting his greed for the saber before your safety. The Armorer reluctantly agrees to let few of the members of the covert to tag along, after Din promises to bring them back in one piece. Just to scare your parents. He assured the Armorer. Several younger members of the covert eagerly volunteered, wanting to travel off planet to see the outside world. The rest was history. You returned to him with no further complications, and Paz still gives Din grief about challenging him to the saber but one look from his riduur, he shuts his mouth up. You spread the blanket out onto the grass, and with great effort, lower onto it. Took awhile for you to get comfortable, you are so far along, you can pop any day. “Cyar’ika.” You heard Din whispering behind you as he pulled you into his embrace. You leaned back into his chest with a sigh as you closed your eyes. He nestles his head, as you notice, without the helmet, into your neck.

“I cannot wait to meet our ik’aad.” De’javu hits you. This is like the dream, the one you had a few cycles ago. But this time, it’s real. Your family. Your riduur.

The Force really has been guiding and pushing everything along, hasn’t it?

This is your clan, Clan Mudhorn, clan of five. Soon to be six.

Grogu loves Uncle Fett and Aunty Fennec, and Peli of course 🙂

Well that is it folks. My brain juice has run out for this series, and I think this is the fitting end the clan deserves. Thank you all for coming along on this journey, I didn’t expect people would be reading it at all hhahaha. Spread the love for our space husband and the little green pea!

Taglist: @frogtits1 @memester-png

@jake-g-lockley

@novaethecosplayer

@foxgirl95

@gloryekaterina

@varientlyvisual

@flowersgirl02

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #grogu #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you

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brucesterling · 9 months

Text

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*Who reads the bizarre, out-there maunderings of this eccentric San Francisco punk publisher known to the world as "V. Vale," well, obviously Rudy Rucker and Bruce Sterling both do.

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cosmica-galaxy · 7 months

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Idk if you've answered this before but how does the reproduction of Mimics work in your Mimic-verse? Like, does it work like humans or do they lean more towards like how birds or some other egg-laying creatures do? Or do they have an entirely different way of having offsprings? What's the gestation period before birth for if they mate with a human or other mimics? .

Um, sorry about this weird ask but I've been curious to ask this since your version mimics are, for the most part, organic ^^;

Mimics reproduce similar to humans, as they were the template for their existence for hundreds of years before the Skibidis killed them off...or at least killed MOST of humanity off. Gestation periods vary from mimic to mimic, as each one lives a different lifestyle. But their overall biologies are the same or mostly similar. For all human/mimic pairings:

It will depend on who is the carrier. If the mimic is the carrier, the young will arrive in around 6-7 months. If the human is the carrier, it will be closer to a standard 8-9 months. The brood will also vary from the type of mimic the human chooses to pair with. Giving a possibility of just a single child to multiple.

Camera mimics usually have multiple young in one sitting (so keep that in mind if you're gonna get with one XD), speaker mimics usually have only one to two babies per litter but triplets aren't super rare (just mostly uncommon and it's not very likely on newly-paired mates) , while TV mimics are more traditional and will only have one to two at max per litter. For all mimic/mimic pairings:

Camera mimics have the quickest gestation period with about 5 months being the shortest amount of time for an average litter of campups to arrive in the world, 6-7 months for larger litters. As a result of this, they are the most common mimic that one can find. Speaker mimics have the second longest gestation period with about 7 months being the time for a little speakitten to arrive into the world. The parents will hole away in a safe haven with their kin and the carrier will be cared for by the whole clan in a communal care system. This social behavior usually results in plump happy speakittens being welcomed into the world! TV mimics are VERY picky about their breeding practices and preferences. So a pregnant TV mimic is a rare sight, since an area needs to be perfect for a TV mimic couple to settle down to have a little one. They take the longest as well, with 8-9 months being required for a gestation period to develop a baby. Which also contributes to their rarity, no-doubt. Hybrids:

Hybrids in general are a mixed bag. When two different mimics meet, get along, and decide to contribute to the mimic population--anything can happen. When two gene pools are mixed together, the young can come out as few as one single baby to a large litter! That also makes their birth expectancy unpredictable. For example, if a camera mimic mated with a speaker mimic and the young was a camera-dominant hybrid, the pregnancy will be short and multiple young can be expected. But if the baby is speaker-dominant, it will take 7 months instead of 5 and may have a sibling or two as well. Same for any other mimic pairings as well. Special cases:

Large mimic variants can only breed after Origin has been released back into the world and they can only mate with other large mimics, as smaller mimics and large mimics are not compatible sexually.

The "crowned" variants of the large mimics are unable to breed entirely, they are sterile once their crown grows in and they devote themselves to serving Origin for the entirety of their lives. It doesn't bother them at all, as they view serving Origin as the greatest honor a mimic can achieve as well as how they eventually will "adopt" a trainee that will take their place once the time for their retirement comes. Origin themselves also can't breed, but can bring life into the world via creation. Similar to how they brought the mimics into existence long long ago. Other than that, they are above such "mortal desires and needs" and do not actively seek out any pleasure. They are probably considered asexual? If that's the correct term.

#this has been your mimic biology lesson 102!#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica-galaxy #cosmica galaxy #skibidi tag #anonymous #anon asks #anon ask #skibidi mimic #skibidi toilet mimic

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all-the-things-2020 · 8 months

Text

Late Night Talking - Chapter Three

Summary: Dieter and Emily go on date number two at Venice Beach.

Rating: PG

Notes: I’m writing exclusively from Emily’s POV but will include little transcripts here and there to show Dieter’s perspective. I gave Dieter a brother named Friedrich. They call each other Freddy and Deet.

[Telephone call between Dieter Bravo and his brother Friedrich]

Friedrich: What happened now?

Dieter: Why do you assume something happened? Maybe I’m just calling to hear your amazing voice.

F: Because it’s one o’clock in the fucking morning, Deet.

D: Shit, sorry. It’s only ten here. But Freddy, I have to talk to you. This is big, bro.

F: Work big or personal big?

D: Personal. I think I just met the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

F: [sighs] Is this going to be like Jonathan?

D: No. Nothing like Jonathan. That was just … I was stupid then. And horny. But Emily — her name is Emily — she’s amazing, Freddy.

F: I’m sure she is, but don’t get ahead of yourself. You always leap without looking.

D: I know but there’s something … we just clicked, you know? Met her in a bookstore and we went to another one for our first date. Couple of drinks, dinner at a tapas place. Nothing fancy but … I haven’t felt this alive since I stopped using.

F: I’m happy for you, Deet, but be careful. Don’t jump into anything. Promise me.

D: I’m gonna marry her.

F: Give it a year. If you still feel the same way, then go for it.

D: A whole year?

F: A whole year. Promise me, Deet.

D: [sighs] I promise. But mark your calendar. I’ll be calling you a year from now to tell you we’re engaged.

F: If you say so. Look, man, I need to get some sleep.

D: Okay, sorry. I just … I had to tell you.

F: I know. Make good choices. Night.

[Call ends]

****************************************************************************

I texted Dieter as soon as I got home and he replied instantly.

Me: Home safe

Dieter: Same here. Had a great time tonight.

Me: So did I

The typing indicator showed up, then disappeared, then showed up again. When it disappeared for a second time, it stayed off. I was puzzled until my phone rang.

”Hello.”

”Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I figured it’s easier to do this talking than texting. I hate texting, anyway.” He chuckled softly.

”It’s fine,” I said. “So, you had a good time?”

”A great time,” he corrected me. “I … look I’m not really that good at this kind of thing. In my line of business you get people fawning all over you and they always want something … it’s hard to trust, you know? But I didn’t get that from you.”

”I know you’re famous and all that, but you’re still just a guy,” I said. “I had that bubble burst a long time ago when one of my friends introduced me to one of the members of a band their Dad knew. I thought it was going to be magical and he turned out to be boring. Literally spent most of the time talking to her Dad about some kind of woodworking tool he’d bought and how he was trying get his son to make a bird house.”

Dieter laughed. “I’m not that boring, I hope.”

”Not at all. But you’re still just a guy. Who happens to make his living pretending to be other people and gets paid obscene amounts of money to do it.”

”Not that obscene,” he said. “At least, not for a while.” He cleared his throat. “Look, before we go any further, I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m kind of fucked up. I mean, more than the usual ‘everybody’s messed up one way or the other’.

“I’ve been in rehab. I was using a lot of shit to escape reality and … I almost died on the set of Cliff Beasts 6. Like literally OD’d and they had to restart my heart. I swore off the hard stuff after that and checked myself in. No more coke, no more acid, no more mystery pills.

”And I connected with my therapist there. She’s amazing and she gets me. So I have rules now. Alcohol if I’m with other people, never when I’m alone. Nothing stronger except this one brand of edibles that mellow me out when I’m super anxious. And I’m on meds to straighten out my brain chemistry. And I have a session with her every week. So, that’s me …”

“I knew about rehab,” I said carefully. “It was on the Internet and gossip magazines. But I didn’t know you almost died. That must have been really scary.”

“Scared the shit out of me,” he said. “There was this girl who worked at the hotel. She’s the one who found me and helped revive me. She professed her love for me in the ambulance and … it lasted about three weeks. I woke up one day and realized ‘Shit, I’m in my forties, and this girl’s in her twenties. What am I doing with my life?’ And I checked into rehab the next day.

“I had to drop out of a couple of projects, and my career was already heading down the crapper anyway — I mean, Cliff Beasts? — so I’m kind of starting over.”

”That’s okay,” I said. “Like I said, you’re just a guy who happens to be an actor. Your job doesn’t have anything to do with why I enjoyed the evening with you. We would have had fun if you were a CPA or a garbage man or whatever.”

“Yeah, and that’s why … I’d really, really like to see you again. Soon.”

”So would I,” I said. “I’m off work for the summer so my schedule is wide open.”

“How about Sunday? I have some shit to take care of tomorrow for a charity. Wait, that didn’t come out right, it’s a charity, it’s not shit …” He sounded a bit flustered. “Sunday. We can go to the beach. Unless that’s too long a drive for you?”

”Traffic shouldn’t be too bad on a weekend. And I haven’t been to the beach for a while. I’d love to.”

”It’s a date then. I’ll … I’ll text you tomorrow what time to meet and where, if that’s okay?”

”That’s perfect,” I said.

”Well, I should let you get to bed. I’m sure you’re tired after listening to me all night and driving and everything.”

”Yeah, you should get some sleep, too. Got to be fresh for the charity shit, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Good night.”

”Good night.”

The call ended and I sat on the couch staring at my phone for a few minutes. Then I texted Sam.

*****************************************

We were on the boardwalk at Venice Beach. It was a hot day, so the place was crowded, perfect for people watching.

“Oh, my God, your dog is so cute!” Dieter fairly ran across the boardwalk to a young couple with a Corgi on a leash. It was wearing a bow tie. “Can I take a picture?”

I followed more slowly, ready to apologize to them for my date’s ridiculous behavior, but they were already making the dog pose and look even more adorable, if that was even possible. Dieter snapped a picture of the dog, then shoved his phone at me before getting down on the ground. “Get a picture of me with the dog,” he said. His goofy grin was irresistible. I snapped a couple of pictures of him and the dog, then we chatted a bit with the couple. The dog was a boy, named Kirby, and while he seemed to enjoy the attention, he was a bit aloof, as Corgis often are, until he very solemnly and daintily licked my hand. His owners gushed over how he doesn’t normally like strangers and I should feel special.

“She is special,” Dieter said, giving me a squeeze.

They awkwardly asked for an autograph and a selfie. Dieter obliged, with me taking the photo for them. We said goodbye, and Dieter wistfully watched them walk away. “Now that made my day,” he said.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re on a date with me and meeting a dog is the highlight of your day?” I teased.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he blustered.”Like, the dog is the icing on the cake. You’re the cake.”

“Come again?”

He scrunched up his face. “It’s like … okay, icing is nice, icing is great, but by itself it’s kind of gross. Too sweet. You need the cake to give it meaning. The cake is the foundation. The icing is optional but the cake is essential.” He shook his head. “I’m not explaining this right.”

I grabbed his hand. “I think I can see the sentiment behind this rather tortured metaphor,” I said. “Cake is good even by itself; icing enhances it but you don’t really need it.”

“Exactly,” he said, raising our joined hands to his mouth. He kissed the back of my hand. “This would have been a great day even without the dog, but the dog made it even better.”

“I’m only letting this go because it was a Corgi,” I told him. “Any other breed and I’d be insulted, but damn, Corgis are adorable.”

He laughed and put his arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss. A skateboarder zipped past. “Get a room, boomers,” he yelled.

“Hey, we’re Gen X,” Dieter yelled back. “We don’t give a shit!”

“You are such a dork,” I said, laughing into his chest as he flipped the kid off.

“Ah, you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I admitted. “You’re ... adorkable.”

“Now who’s making shit up?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

****************************

“Let’s go in the water,” Dieter said, tugging at my hand and leading me off the boardwalk and into the sand.

“We don’t have bathing suits,” I protested. I stopped to take off my flip-flops; it was nearly impossible to walk in sand with them on without tripping over my own feet. Dieter pulled his own shoes off as well, and we continued across the beach, shoes in one hand, holding hands with the other.

“We’ll just get our feet wet,” he promised. “Come on.” He whined like a little kid who wanted candy. “Pleeeease.”

I laughed. How could I resist him when he was such a goofball? “Okay, but not too deep,” I said, realizing I sounded like a mom. “I’m not getting all wet and then having to sit around in soggy shorts the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” he said, but there was a wicked gleam in his eye that I didn’t quite trust.

We waded out into the water, letting it lap against our ankles, the occasional wave breaking harder and splashing us up to our knees. “Next time, we’ll wear our swimsuits,” he said. “Bring a boogie board or something.”

“I can’t swim,” I admitted. He stopped dead, staring at me.

“What?!,” he said incredulously. “You grew up in SoCal and never learned to swim? How is this possible?”

I was embarrassed, but decided to tell him the truth. “I have a phobia about water,” I said. “If my face gets in the water, I panic. I failed swimming in high school, the only F I ever got on my report card.”

“Well,” he said, “we’ll have to fix that. Lucky for you, I have a pool at my place, and I’m a very good teacher.” He slid his arms around my waist. “Do you need to get out of the water right now?”

“No,” I said. “This is fine. This is fun. It’s just when the water gets on or around my face.”

“Okay, then,” he grinned. “Let’s play some more.” He darted off down the beach, splashing water behind him as he ran through the surf. I gave chase, laughing as I tried to catch up. He was a total goofball, but he was my goofball.

*****************************

I was pretty sure I had a sunburn. We’d been good and applied sunblock before we got out of the cars, and reapplied later, but I could still feel the heat on my skin. “Ooh, shave ice!” I cried as we came around a corner. It was a very hot day and nothing is better on a hot day than a shave ice.

We bought two large shave ices, cherry for me, and a multi-hued mixture of flavors for Dieter. “You’re boring,” he said, pointing at my solid red treat with his plastic spoon.

“Not boring,” I said. “Classic.” I took a big bite and savored the sweet, cold ice as it melted on my tongue.

He shook his head and dug into his own ice, as we sat on a bench facing the ocean. The on shore breeze kept the heat from being overwhelming and the shave ice cooled me off quickly.

“Ah, shit, brain freeze!” Dieter said, holding a hand against his forehead.

“Don’t eat it so fast, doofus,” I said, poking him in the side with my elbow.

He stuck his tongue out at me. It was dyed a dark purplish color from the combination of flavors. “Gross,” I said. “See, that’s why I go with the cherry.” I stuck my own tongue out, knowing it would be a bright red.

“Well, you certainly don’t need lipstick,” he said, pulling out his phone and taking a quick photo, which he showed me. My lips were cherry red.

“Ah, you’ve discovered my cunning plot to replace makeup with shave ice syrup,” I said. He leaned in for a kiss.

“Mmm,” he said. “It tastes better than lipstick, I’ll give you that.”

I shoved him away. “You’re so weird,” I said. “Eat your shave ice before it melts.”

“You’re so bossy,” he grumbled, as he shoveled another spoonful of ice into his mouth.

“I work with teenagers,” I reminded him. “I think I can handle your sorry ass.” I took a big bite of my own shave ice, but instantly regretted it. “Ow, ow, brain freeze!”

Dieter nearly fell off the bench laughing, and I joined him, as soon as my head stopped pounding.

***********************************

The sun was low in the sky as we made our way toward the parking lot. “Next time we’ll get here later, rent bikes, and stay to watch the sunset,” Dieter said. His arm was around my waist, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he gazed down at me.

“That sounds wonderful,” I replied. “But how about our next date, you drive out my way?”

He scratched his chin with his free hand. “I guess I could,” he said. “Is there anything out there to do?”

”I hope you’re being facetious,” I told him. “Because only I can diss where I live.”

He chuckled. “Totally facetious. Besides, as long as I’m with you, who cares where we go?”

”Smooth, Bravo, real smooth.” I tugged his arm, pulling him to a stop. I went on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, in one of those delectable little bare patches in his beard.

”It worked,didn’t it?” he said smugly.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fic

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virgo-mess · 6 months

Text

The Birds and the Bees

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Chapter List

1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2

2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2

3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.

4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1

5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2

6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3

7.Shades of Pink

8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1

9.Renewal Part 2

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

TW: None really just two angsty pretty people that can't communicate, flirting, with a little fluff ....ENJOY!

Alexithymia- The Inability to Express Your Feelings Part 1

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“For adults, summer was different- flatter, the way everything became flatter when you grew old, like the hills you once sledded and stood on your pedals to climb, like the Christmases and birthdays you once anticipated, even after you discovered they disappointed, again and again, until you became numb to their disappointment.”- Dana Cann

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Shay’s Pov

Shay hummed softly to the radio while she inhaled the salty scent of the New England coast, she watched the deep blue of Plymouth Harbor flit past her car windows for the first time in two years. The ocean and their pretty beaches were one of the things she missed the most about coming back to her hometown of Plymouth Massachusetts, at least when they weren’t hidden under a thick blanket of winter snow. Winter was usually the only time of year Shay could afford to slip away from her job as Vice President of an investment banking firm on Wall Steet and make the nearly four-hour drive back home. She had moved to New York what felt like a lifetime ago to attend school at NYU but in reality, it was only seven years. She had only intended on majoring in marketing, but the allure of upper-class New York City living was too strong. Shay ended up toughing college life out for one more year to earn an MBA and before she knew it, she was calling NYC home and worked her way up the investment banking chain. The hours of being a VP of investment banking were grueling, but the pay was good with extra perks like end of the year bonuses and paid time off, but Shay had come to find the life of a workaholic was also incredibly lonely. The only reason she was even able to swing this trip home was because her boss, Harold Weber, had suggested she take a sabbatical after having a mild mental breakdown in front of a few clients a couple of weeks ago. A breakdown that landed her in the back of an ambulance. Needless to say, Shay jumped at the opportunity to expand her horizons for a few months and oddly enough home seemed like the best place to do it.

So, here Shay was back in her hometown about to meet up with some of her oldest childhood friends, her breakdown had conveniently lined up well with some major life events. Her best friends Daisy and Pete were getting married in a few weeks, and Shay was sweetly bestowed the title of Maid of Honor. Daisy had gone all out and had showed up at Shay’s New York loft to hand deliver the biggest bouquet of flowers and spa basket Shay had ever seen about three months ago. How could Shay say no after such a grand gesture? Truthfully, she would’ve accepted if Daisy had just shown up with a cupcake and a big hug it had been so long since she had gotten one of those. Shay turned her forest green Audi R8 into the 1620 Wine Bar parking lot at exactly 12 o’clock for her scheduled lunch date with Daisy Martin, soon to be Daisy Foster. They were meeting to not only catch up but to also put together some of the last-minute touches on the wedding Shay had promised she’d help her with as soon as she got the time. Luckily for them both, Shay seemingly had all the time in the world now after this sabbatical she wasn’t sure if she was going to stay in the world of investment banking or New York in general.

Shay sighed stepping out of her car and taking in the warm summer rays as she made her way up to the small wine bar at a leisurely pace. She only made one stop the entire four hour drive up and that was to put actual clothes on, so she didn’t show up to a fancy wine bar in a pair of skimpy pajamas with a set of hair rollers in her hair. Instead, she opted for a simple mint green floral mini sundress and a matching cardigan that matched her misty green eyes. She even took the time to apply some make up and the hair rollers helped her achieve her routine picture perfect 90s blowout in a sketchy gas station bathroom. Shay looked at her reflection in the glass for a moment before pushing the heavy door open and walking into the dim wine bar with an awed expression on her face. Soft jazz music lulled through the overhead speakers as Shay’s green eyes took in the antique furnishings, beautiful stone walls, and gilded ceilings.

“Welcome to Sips at 1620, do you have a reservation?” a girl’s voice came from behind the hostess stand pulling Shay out of her thoughts with a polite smile on her face. She couldn’t help but feel a bit underdressed and fidgeted with the hem of her sundress as she took the last few steps up to the hostess stand.

“Yeah, it should be under Daisy” Shay said feeling a bit out of place in such a pretty place despite how polite the hostess was being to her. She wondered why Daisy picked such a romantic looking establishment, it seemed more suited for a date night than to just be planning parts of your wedding with a childhood friend but perhaps they weren’t going to be alone, and Daisy was looking to make a good impression.

“Looks like you’re the first one here, do you have a seating preference we have our main room off to your left here or our patio overlooking the harbor is just through doors.” The hostess said with a knowing look in her eyes as she watched Shay fidget with the hem of her dress again.

“The patio sounds perfect” Shay admitted letting out a faint sigh of relief. She could push her suspicious train of thought to the back of her mind for a little while and worry about surprise guests later, for now all she really needed was a glass of wine.

“Good choice, I know it can be a little intimidating in here, but I promise we aren’t nearly that fancy you’re not underdressed. You can go out and have a seat wherever you want, I’ll send someone out to bring you refreshments while you wait.” She said with the same knowing look in her eyes and a soft smile. Shay let out a soft, embarrassed sounding giggle and wondered how some people were able to get a read on her so easily.

“Thanks, could you make the first refreshment a glass of sangria please” Shay asked with a sheepish smile on her face, the host chuckled nodding her head as she began to shuffle out from behind the desk.

“Sure, thing hon, I’ll be with you in just one second sir.” The hostess said giving her one last smile before disappearing through a back door. Shay took one last look around the bar to get a closer look at some of the pretty furnishings before heading towards the patio doors and stepping out into the warm late June sunshine. The patio was empty but had a much more relaxed feel to it than the main room. The tables were covered with black and white striped umbrellas and the chairs were a pleasing assortment of cushioned patio loveseats and cute wicker chairs with brightly colored pillows. Shay all but skipped to one of the tables closest to the rippling blue of Plymouth harbor, she sat her purse down and quickly discarded her cardigan before taking a seat on one of the comfortable loveseats. Her green eyes fixate on the crashing waves and a loved-up couple in the distance, the faint lull of soft music could still be heard floating through the balmy air. Only instead of smooth jazz, the soft notes of a dreamy sounding indie pop song graced Shay’s ears. She couldn’t help but get dewy-eyed as a small wistful type of smile made its way across her face because the music and the couple on the beach reminded her of the happy summers of her girlhood. Most of which were spent with the boy next door, her first crush, and also her best friend before she and Daisy got really close.

“Hey gorgeous, what are you doing over here by yourself?” a deep, flirtatious voice asked, Shay jumped slightly in surprise halting her daydreaming to focus on the tall man standing in front of her table with a flirty smile on his face. Shay blushed under his gaze as she let her eyes trail over the man’s tall, muscled body for a bit longer than socially acceptable. He’s dressed in a pair of dark fitted jeans, a white button down that gave her a very teasing display of his muscled chest, and a dark blue blazer. Cropped gray hair sits atop his head and a pair of dark sunglasses shield his eyes from Shay’s view but even with the sunglasses on she can tell he’s incredibly handsome in a mysterious, brooding type of way. Something about the man feels remarkably familiar to her but she can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

“I’m um, waiting for my friend and my glass of sangria” Shay said awkwardly letting her eyes sweep the patio to find it still completely empty save for her and the mysterious man wearing sunglasses in front of her that almost seemed to appear out of thin air. The man let out a soft chuckle under his breath that somehow had Shay’s stomach doing flips and her eyes giving him another quick once over because she swears, she’s heard that chuckle before.

“Sorry I startled you; would you mind if I keep you company while you wait pretty lady?” he asked in the same deep coquettish tone, Shay felt her cheeks flush a darker shade of pink as she gazed up at him for a long time. She couldn’t see his eyes but part of her knew he was gazing right back at her in a way that made her feel like he was undressing her and staring into her soul at the same time in a sensual, tantalizing sort of way.

“You’ve complimented me twice in under a minute that can’t be good, have a seat Casanova” Shay said coyly motioning to the two other chairs around the table. Mystery man let out another soft chuckle before plopping in the empty spot next to Shay on the patio chair close enough for his large thigh to ghost hers in the most teasing way. He flashed her another flirty smile as he propped an arm on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. Shay rolled her eyes and let out a soft giggle of her own as she teasingly mirrored his action, placing her chin in the palm of her hand as she flashed him a coy smile before deciding to break the brief silence the pair of them had seemingly fallen into.

“Have we met before Mr…?” Shay trailed raising an eyebrow at him expectantly as her eyes continued to try and pinpoint why on earth, he felt so familiar yet oh so different at the same time. She watched him bite down on his lip like he was trying to bite back another chuckle. She concluded that the sunglasses were what was throwing off whatever picture she had of him in her head.

“Right or Perfect for you, whichever you prefer darling. You know I think we have met, in my dreams…” his tone had a playful edge to it this time and Shay could see one of his eyebrows peek up at her from behind his glasses, mirroring her expression with a teasing grin. Shay giggled, shaking her head as she felt the familiar fluttering of butterflies in her stomach.

“Yeah, okay Casanova. Let me guess, you’re in town for that big rodeo happening down at the fairgrounds and you need some ‘eye-candy’ in your cheering section…” Shay said with a coy smile on her face at her artfully subtle tack of asking the silver haired mystery what he’d be getting up to while he was in town. It’d been ages since Shay actually let loose and entertained a random guy that had the guts to brazenly flirt with her like this but part of her felt like the guy sitting next to her wasn’t just a random guy and that she’d known him her whole life. There was only one other guy Shay had felt such a thing for, someone she knew a lifetime ago back in those carefree days of her youth…

“I’m no cowboy, doll but you aren’t too far off about me wanting some eye candy and luckily I just happened to stumble upon the prettiest girl in Plymouth.” He all but purred, reaching out to brush his thumb against her flushed cheek affectionately, too affectionately for a supposed stranger… Shay eyed him suspiciously but couldn’t find it in her to pull away from him because everything about him had her utterly transfixed and once again feeling oddly homesick, homesick for a person rather than a place.

“Let me guess, you’re in town for that over-the-top Foster wedding, aren’t you blondie?” he crooned in a teasing tone. His long fingers left Shay’s flushed cheek to toy with a lock of her blonde hair and Shay found herself biting down on her lip to prevent a displeased whine from escaping her throat at the loss of contact. Familiar waves of conflicting feelings coursed through her veins as she gazed over at him with the same coy smile on her face.

“That obvious huh, seems a bit unfair that you know what I’m doing here when you still haven’t told me your name or what you’re doing here. To think I let you sit at my table with me and everything.” Shay said letting out an exaggerated sigh and ditching her coy smile for a playful, mock pout of sadness. He chuckled shaking his head to himself for a moment before settling his shield gaze back on her with a teasing smirk on his face.

“Oh, I’m just here looking for my soulmate maybe you’ve seen her. She’s wearing a cute little green dress that matches her eyes and has an adorable albeit, fake pout on her pretty face right now” he said in a teasing tone, still twirling a lock of her blonde hair on his long finger. Shay rolled her eyes playfully and found herself biting back a giggle.

“Do you use that line on everyone, Casanova?” Shay said nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at him as she rested her chin back in the palm of her hand, she silently wished she could take his sunglasses off not just because she wanted to see who was behind them but more so to getting a better feel for what he was thinking. Interpreting his thoughts and expressions based on eyebrows alone was getting tedious.

“No, just a cute little blonde with pretty green eyes and an adorable button nose who also happens to be my soulmate. Haven’t you been listening?” he said in a low borderline seductive tone as he bit down on his lip and gave her a teasing bop on the tip of her nose with one of the long fingers that had just been toying with her hair. Shay didn’t resist the urge to giggle this time, finding the action mildly ridiculous but strangely adorable all the same. Her giggles took a second to die down but when they did, she found herself analyzing his face again.

“She’s got a cute laugh too…why are you staring at me like that ch…blondie?” he all but cooed, dragging a finger down her thigh delicately, staring at her in a way that implied he was searching her eyes for something. Shay tensed a bit at both the action and the intensity of his shielded gaze as she felt an unexpected wave of arousal creep up on her.

“You remind me of someone…” Shay breathed out tearing her eyes off the man for the first time since he had magically appeared in front of her table a mere twenty minutes ago because it finally dawned on her to dig through her purse for her cell phone. She doubted it was a coincidence he showed up at the exact time Daisy was supposed to be meeting her here. No, Daisy Martin was playing matchmaker again and she was in for an earful when she finally decided to grace her and mystery man with her presence.

“A good someone I hope, tall, handsome, pretty blue eyes, might be a cop, could’ve got suspended for beating up a dirtbag named Tyler in a hotel lobby in New York…” he trailed nonchalantly.

“Huh” Shay said though she wasn’t really listening to what he was saying as she unlocked her phone to see about ten text messages from Daisy.

“…Nothing, what’s your favorite flower?” he asked in the same nonchalant tone, pointedly running his fingers up Shay’s thigh again in a teasing matter to get her attention. Shay sighed, pausing her skim through Daisy’s messages to arch her brow at him again though this time it was in a snarkier manner than the previous ones she raised at him. He smiled over at her almost seeming sheepish under her gaze for the first time in the last twenty minutes or so.

“Why does that matter, you gonna buy me some Casanova?” Shay sighed, forcing a tight smile on her face before glancing back down at her phone to read the first few messages her meddlesome friend Daisy had sent her. Apparently, Pete had convinced Daisy to go up to Boston with him early this morning to take a look at some incredibly last-minute ideas for their reception décor, they hit a ton of unexpected traffic on their way back down but would be here at 12:40 by the latest.

“I don’t know maybe, women like that stuff you know, and I bet a favorite flower says a lot about a person. Looking at your phone when someone is trying to talk to you is rude blondie…” he said letting out an exasperated sigh before placing a long finger under her chin, urging her to look at him with a teasing grin plastered on his face. Shay scoffed, narrowing her misty green eyes at him.

“Well, if we’re really soulmates shouldn’t you be able to guess what my favorite flower is. Pretty sure I read that in the soulmate handbook, I can fact check that for you on my phone if you want…” Shay said coyly. Looking past him, she finally spotted a glimpse of Daisy’s black curls in the afternoon sun coming out of the patio doors with a disheveled looking Pete Foster in toe. “Sure… stuck in traffic…” Shay said sarcastically under her breath as she watched Daisy try to discreetly readjust her denim skirt.

“You don’t have to do that; I already know the answer is cherry blossoms Shay” he chuckled. Shay sharply settled her green eyes back on the not so mysterious man’s amused-looking smirk at the sound of her name and her childhood nickname coming out of his mouth in the same sentence. There was only one person that ever actually used that nickname for her on a regular basis, he had dark curls and a pair of carefree, captivating blue eyes.

“CASHTON MICHAEL EWING!” Shay all but snarled, reaching up to aggressively tear his obnoxious sunglasses off his face and carelessly tossed them down on the patio harder than necessary. Cash let out a deep annoyed sounding sigh as he watched the glasses clatter and skid against the stained wood with an audible smack.

“I just bought those, that was rude Cherry Blossom, bad girl” Cash chided her though his amused smirk and spread into a full grin as he teasingly bopped her on the tip of her nose with his finger again. Shay scowled at him through her lashes and swatted at his shoulder as hard as she could before finally scooting away from him. Shay crossed her arms over her chest and tried to process everything that happened between them in the last twenty minutes.

“You haven’t seen me in almost seven years, I was hoping to get a warmer greeting especially from you, Cherry Blossom. You’re not being very neighborly, you know.” Cash sighed with an unreadable emotion swirling in his eyes. Shay let out a sigh of her own but refused to meet his gaze even though he was in fact the person she’d been thinking of in the back of her mind this entire time. The someone she had known her whole life, the someone she was feeling homesick for. Cashton Michael “Cash” Ewing was Shay’s neighbor, the first friend she made when her parents moved into the Manomet neighborhood and her first crush though looking back on it now, it was more than just a crush. From the ages of four to fourteen Shay and Cash were basically inseparable, they did everything together back then and Shay had so many happy memories of those years. The innocent years, the ones before the dreads of awkward adolescence crept in on them both and set them down different paths to live separate lives that no longer involved the other.

“Well, we haven’t been neighbors in like eight years Cash… I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you with the hair…it’s looks great though really suits you, brings out your eyes” Shay tacked on awkwardly finally meeting his gaze with a timid look in her eyes. Cash gave her a half smile in response though there seemed to be a million thoughts running through his head as he gazed back at her with almost affectionate eyes. Shay was sure she was misreading the look in his eyes though; she felt the all too familiar bundle of conflicting emotions Cashton Ewing often brought upon her were still coursing through every fiber of her being.

“You don’t have to apologize Cherry Blossom it’s not your fault, I figured Daisy didn’t tell you I was coming when you checked in with the hostess. I’m just surprised and only mildly offended it took you so long to piece it together” he said lightheartedly though his blue eyes were sincere as they stared back into her green ones for what felt like an eternity. Gazes like this always had Shay’s mind flooding with happy memories from those early years of their friendship but then she’d remember all the more dreadful, angst filled memories of her adolescence and somehow some way, Cash Ewing was at the center of them all. She could remember all the summers their families spent together down in Cape Cod and all the days she and Cash spent running up and down the beaches, the day trips up to Boston during Christmas, stargazing in her backyard, eating ice cream every Tuesday at the parlor downtown, and movie nights with pizza in Cash’s basement. The Cash in those memories was like the one sitting beside her, gazing at her with sincere blue eyes yet something about him still felt so foreign. In the early days they told each other everything and sought comfort in each other when one of them was upset or cried. Shay missed the way things used to be between them before she knew the depth of the feelings she had for her then best friend. Shay knew the distance between them was her fault, they say girls mature faster than boys and that was definitely the case for her and Cash. She still remembered the summer, everything changed though sometimes she really wished she could forget it.

“Shay… are you okay?” Cash asked, pulling Shay out of her moment of reminiscing by running his thumb along her still rosy cheek almost tenderly. Shay nodded her head in acknowledgement without even thinking about it, a habit she picked up that summer between middle school and high school. The summer she no longer felt comfortable letting Cash Ewing know every thought and feeling she ever had because the weight of her feelings and the heartbreak that came with having a crush on her best friend were too embarrassing to admit.

“I’m fine” Shay replied softly, not really knowing what else to say to him because she still felt mostly confused by his charade of choice. Shay knew she should be used to Cash giving her a hard time by now but given her still ever-present feelings for the doofus she can’t help but feel hurt by it. Cash and Pete had been routinely teasing her since they were Sophomores in high school. Shay always assumed it was just because she spent most of her time with Daisy after she pointedly distanced herself from Cash that sour summer, but she didn’t know why he bothered to keep it up after all this time.

“Good, I thought I lost you again” Cash said, flashing her an almost sheepish grin as his finger trailed the length of her thigh again. Shay gave him a weary look before gently pushing his hand off her leg and rising to her feet to greet Pete and Daisy, clad in their matching pastel pink polo shirts and denim bottoms like a couple out of a magazine spread.

“Hey guys, you’re a little late don’t you think” Shay said giving Daisy a pointed yet playful look as she pulled her into a hug. Daisy rolled her eyes but hugged her back, nonetheless before pulling away with an unmistakable impish glint in her brown eyes.

“Didn’t you get my text messages, Pete insisted on driving on up to Boston at the crack of dawn like a deranged rooster because we simply have to have this over-the-top archway at the end the isle. Long story short we’re already way over budget so this fanciful archway ain’t happenin’.” Daisy said giving Pete a pointed look of her own, Pete let out an exasperated sigh before pulling Cash into a brief half hug.

“Yeah, I did get your text messages and you failed to tell me Cash was gonna be joining us for lunch in all ten of them Daisy Martin. Also, don’t think I didn’t see you readjusting your skirt on your way out the door over there, stuck in traffic huh.” Shay said in a hushed tone, Daisy blushed giving Shay a sheepish smile.

“I could’ve sworn I told you that, what’s it matter anyway? You two sure looked nice and cozy together from what I saw. Love is definitely in the air” Daisy said wiggling her dark eyebrows suggestively. Shay let out a sad sounding sigh and gave Daisy a weary look.

“What you saw was Cash toying with me like always. Made a whole show of flirting with me because I didn’t recognize him right away. I’m sure it meant nothing…it never does” Shay said quietly, Daisy’s brown eyes softened a bit, and she reached over to place a comforting hand on Shay’s shoulder the same way she’d been doing since they were kids.

“Shay, you don’t know that alright. I think Cash just has a hard time flirting with you as himself, you can come off a little cold towards him sometimes you know. That doesn’t mean he isn’t being genuine, maybe you make him as nervous as he makes you. You two should really talk…” Daisy trailed; her tone implied that she knew something Shay didn’t, but Shay was already feeling too vulnerable for her comfort level.

“Cashton Micheal can’t have an honest conversation to save his life, Daisy even you know that. Let’s just eat alright, I’m starving, and the hostess forgot to bring me a glass of sangria” Shay said in a lighthearted tone, but sadness was swirling in her green eyes even as she glanced over at Cash and Pete who were having a hushed conversation of their own. Shay could still recall the last two serious conversations she and Cash Ewing had on the last Christmas Cash had come home for and the one on Thanskgiving seven years ago. A conversation that landed her in tears on a train to Cleveland, she was headed back to reassemble the shambles of her first traumatic break up with her ex-boyfriend, Tyler. The second break up happened a mere two years ago but Shay knew their relationship was over the first time around. She just didn't want to be alone...

“Okay, are these yours?” Daisy asked, grabbing Shay’s attention she held up Cash’s battered looking sunglasses with a raised eyebrow. Shay bit her lip to stifle a chuckle as Cash grumpily walked over and took the sunglasses out of Daisy’s hand. The annoyed look in his blue eyes as he looked over the scuffed lenses left Shay feeling oddly satisfied.

“No these are mine, Shaylee Rose thought she’d try her hand at being Walter Johnson before you got here. You owe me a new pair, Cherry Blossom, I know you can afford it, I saw you pull up in that fancy green Audi” Cash smirked with an all too familiar mischievous glint in his ocean blue eyes as he glanced at a surely grinning Pete behind her. Shay rolled her eyes and mentally prepared herself for Cash Ewing and Pete Fosters routine teasing session to begin.

“It was awful nice of you to take a break from your upper Manhattan circle and spend some time with us poor people, Shay. After you ditched us these last two Christmases, I was beginning to think you turned into Scrooge on us.” Pete chuckled, reaching over to pinch Shay’s cheek playfully. Shay scowled and let out an annoyed sounding sigh as she plopped down on one of the wicker patio chairs instead of the loveseat Cash weaponized to entice and torment her just for fun as it would seem.

“You didn’t come home for two whole years, and you couldn’t even come see me an hour car ride over in Jersey City, Cherry Blossom. I’m not too sure she hasn’t turned into a Scrooge after all Petey. That’s not your spot, Shaylee.” Cash said pointedly, sitting back down on the loveseat with a raised eyebrow. Shay stared back at Cash blankly watching his large hand patting the spot next to him almost…seductively. Shay felt her cheeks flush despite her growing annoyance towards him and his cocky attitude at the moment. She knew Cash moved a few years back, but she never realized he had only been a half hour drive from her on a good traffic day.

“Doors work both ways Cashy, I didn’t know you moved to Jersey City but if you wanted to visit me all you had to do was show up Daisy does it all the time.” Shay said flatly, pointedly ignoring his adamant ‘pleas’ for her to sit by him even though part of her wanted to more than anything. She was sure his insistence was just part of whatever this playful act of flirting with her was, she wouldn’t allow herself to fall for it this time.

“Well, I figured if you wanted anything to do with me you would’ve at least answered one of the letters I sent you. Now get out of Pete’s seat.” Cash said, matching her flat tone with a serious expression on his face. Shay furrowed her brows at his words, she hadn’t gotten a letter from Cash since her sophomore year at NYU. She’d received it shortly after that sad Thanksgiving at his mom’s house but at the time she’d been trying her hardest to forget about that day all together. So, she just never answered it with the vague after thought she’d just talk to Cash about it at Christmas if he ever brought it up. Of course, that was because Shay didn’t know Cash had no intention of ever coming back home for a holiday again…

“Pete can sit by you, what letters are talking about?” Shay asked in a gentle but serious tone as her green eyes searched his blue ones for an answer. Cash sighed and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze for the first-time since he walked up to her table which took Shay a bit by surprise. She could count the number of times Cashton Ewing had ever looked this vulnerable on one hand and most of those times were back when his abusive, alcoholic father, Huck Ewing was around. Seeing him like this had forgotten memories of a battered Cash crawling through her window with tears streaming down his face and Shay couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that came along with them. Shay wasn’t sure how her brain ever let her forget the way they used to cling and hold each other back then. Or why neither of their parents seemed to care Cash and her slept and cuddled in the same bed every night until they were fourteen, innocently of course, but Shay can’t recall them ever being supervised. Shay glanced over at Daisy and Pete who were looking between her and Cash like they were watching a daytime soap opera.

“Pete doesn’t want to sit by me, do you Pete?” Cash asked him sharply, taking a turn at ignoring part of Shay’s words this time. Shay sighed feeling some of her guilt subside to make way for her growing annoyance towards Cash once again.

“Nope, I’d very much like to sit by my future wife Shay, so, mosey on over there by your silver fox why don’t ya” Pete replied almost instantly, almost as if he and Cash had rehearsed it beforehand. Shay felt another blush sweep across her cheeks as she looked at the two feeling equal amounts annoyed, suspicious, and embarrassed that Cash had told him about her complimenting his hair.

“No can-do Pete, Daisy and I are planning for the wedding and the bachelor parties. I know Cashton is insufferable, annoying, and obnoxious but do you think you can manage sitting next to your best friend just for today?” Shay asked in an overly sweet tone. She stared up at Pete and batted her eyelashes while a trace of a smirk made its way onto her face at the annoyed look, she could see Cash making out of the corner of her eye. Pete looked like a deer in headlights, his brown eyes darted between Shay and Cash before settling on an amused looking Daisy.

“You didn’t find me that insufferable when you thought I was a total stranger Shaylee Rose. In fact, it looked like you were contemplating letting me get you out of that cute little dress before they got here, and all I had to do was touch your thigh.” Cash said with a coquettish smile plastered on his face. He barely even had to move from his planted spot on the loveseat to trail a pointedly teasing finger up Shay’s leg because his arms were just that long. Shay felt her whole face flush a bright shade of red as she swatted Cash’s hand away from her sharply despite the wave of arousal she felt radiate throughout her body.

“Don’t flatter yourself Cashton and mow I know better than to let someone sit at my table so, trust me it won’t happen again” Shay replied with a scowl on her face, Cash’s coquettish smile didn’t falter, and he opened his mouth to say something snarky back to her, but Daisy cut him off.

“Okay let’s pause the bickering like an old married couple just for a second here…” Daisy said clearing her throat awkwardly though her brown eyes looked very much amused as they looked between them. Shay narrowed her eyes at her comparison of choice but managed to not snap back at her even though she could feel Cash tugging on a few of her curls teasingly.

“Actually Shay, I think it would be easier to talk about things if you sat across from me so, you and Pete should switch. Cash will behave himself, won’t you Cash” Daisy said sharply, Shay heard Cash let out an annoyed sigh and his pestering pulls on hair stop immediately.

“Sure, I’ll behave myself but only if you do darling” Cash said, reaching over to bop Shay on the nose with the same coquettish smile on his face. Shay narrowed her eyes and looked between him and Daisy with an obvious pout on her face.

“Daisy, I don’t think that’s necessary…” Shay said through gritted teeth, Daisy batted her eyelashes innocently, but Shay didn’t miss the impish glint swirling in her eyes. Shay had a sinking suspicion her original train of thought had been correct; Daisy Martin was playing matchmaker and for whatever reason she’d decided Shay and Cash were going to be the new couple that emerged from her wedding party.

“Shay it’s just for lunch” Daisy said reassuringly but it did absolutely nothing to soothe the influx of conflicting thoughts and emotions running through Shay right now. Part of her wanted something to happen between her and Cash and yet part of her didn’t. Part of her wanted to believe Cash was being sincere and that his flirting wasn’t just him toying with her but part of her still felt like it was and ultimately, she’d be the one hurt in the end because she always was…

“Daisy…” Shay said looking at her with pathetic and pleading green eyes that seemed to be having Daisy rethinking something at least. Cash let out a dissatisfied sounding grunt and Shay felt him wrap his arm around her waist firmly enough that she couldn’t wiggle free.

“You heard her, Cherry Blossom, come on now, be a good girl and sit with me, please…I won’t bite you without your permission” Cash said, his tone was more playful than anything this time, but Shay couldn’t help but still feel annoyed with him and everyone really. She made sure to shoot every one of her friends with a menacing glare before she begrudgingly let Cash guide her into the spot next to him with one strong arm.

The minutes ticked by with a long-awaited waiter finally coming out to take their order. He returned sometime later with a pitcher full of sangria and a heartfelt apology for Shay never getting her glass. Shay was mildly aware the waiter was flirting with her at some point during said apology, but free wine is free wine, and she wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Cash had mostly stayed true to his promise to behave by the time the appetizers came out and Shay and Daisy had finally got around to discussing plans for the bachelor party. Shay noticed that Cash seemed to become increasingly grumpy every time, said waiter emerged from the wine bar but she chalked it up to him being annoyed he couldn’t pester her the way he really wanted to.

“Instead of doing separate parties for bachelor parties we could do one big, combined party and pick a fun theme” Shay said, trying her best to ignore the way Cash resumed twirling a lock of her hair. She could see him staring at her intently out of the corner of her eye but kept her gaze trained on Daisy. Daisy nodded her head and pondered the idea with a smile on her face.

“That could be fun everyone could dress up, what do you guys think?” Daisy said animatedly, looking over at Pete with hopeful eyes. Pete nodded his head in agreement because his mouth was full of spinach and artichoke dip at the moment.

“Depends what theme Shay thinks up in this pretty head of hers. I for one don’t fancy dressing up and I know a lot of the guys feel the same way” Cash shrugged nonchalantly. Shay rolled her eyes because you could always leave it up to Cashton Ewing to be a party pooper for the sake of being the cool tough guy. Shay hadn’t seen him dress up for anything other than a school dance since they were kids and of course he wasn’t dressing to impress her. Shay took a long swig of her glass of sangria as names of Cash’s past connections flashed in her head in big angry letters.

“Then I guess you won’t be coming to the party, how sad” Shay said dryly though her gaze was still fixated on a now uncomfortable looking Daisy. Cash didn’t reply but his finger halted twirling her strand of hair and his ocean blue eyes bore into the side of her face for a long moment.

“Well, I’m sure it’s okay if not everyone dresses up…it’ll still be fun” Daisy said, Shay shook her head just as their waiter reemerged from the bar with a tray full of their food.

“Nope, I’m putting it on the invite dressing up is required if people don’t want to dress up, they’re welcome not to but then they aren’t coming. They can stay in their suites and pout, I’m sure they’ll find someone to keep them company and warm their bed…” Shay shrugged, she felt Cash’s hand fall from her hair and another dissatisfied grunt escape his lips.

“Or we could just have separate parties like traditional people. The guys can do what they want to do, and you girls can play dress up and throw your party like you want to do. Then everyone wins because like I said a lot of the guys share my stance, right Pete?” Cash said, Pete once again looked like a deer in the headlights and didn’t seem to want to pick a side for once. His brown eyes grew wide as saucers and pleaded with Daisy to rescue him.

“Oh, please believe it or not, not everyone is a party pooper like you. Some people enjoy having fun and even if they don’t the party isn’t about them. I think you can afford to not be selfish for once and go to a party, smile pretty, and dress up for your best friend Cashton Michael. You can take Pete to the strip club on a different night, can’t you?” Shay said coolly, finally turning to meet his gaze with harsh green eyes. Cash’s face hardened into a glare and his blue eyes turned icy as they met hers in a way that oddly enough had her stomach doing flips again.

“Who said anything about a strip club, I just don’t want to dress up in a stupid costume for a party you just started planning five minutes ago and Pete already knows I don’t like dressing up. And why do you keep saying ‘your best friend’ like that when you’re the one who decided you didn’t want that title anymore, I didn’t take it from you. So, I’m really failing to see how you think I’m the one being selfish here Shaylee Rose, what about you” Cash said sharply, Shay stared at him blankly for a minute before rolling her eyes.

“What about me Cashton when have you ever done anything for me or anyone for that matter just to make them happy, huh? Because last I checked I was always the one bending over backwards to make you happy in our friendship and I just couldn’t do it anymore, sorry. I bet if Opal May, Winnifred, or any number of your girlfriends from Boston wanted you to dress up for their party you’d do it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you” Shay said dryly, gulping the rest of her wine before angrily pouring herself another heaping glass. Cash stared at her with disbelief swirling in his blue eyes, he opened and closed his mouth several times appearing to finally be at a loss for words. “Yeah, that’s what I thought” Shay muttered taking another long swig of her fruity beverage.

“I don’t know what Opal May has to do with any of this…Is that why you planned a whole trip to Cancun for spring break and didn’t invite me because you think I’m selfish and prioritize other people over you…Are you talking about what happened at Thanksgiving with Winnifred because…” Cash asked her in a soft, careful tone with an unreadable expression swirling in his eyes. Shay pursed her lips and took another small sip of wine as she focused her seething gaze on the waves crashing on the shore in the distance.

“I didn’t invite you because I didn’t think you’d detach yourself from dear old Winnie long enough to get on a plane. Besides she shot down the idea about sunny vacation after she whisked you away to help your mom in the kitchen said something about redheads and the sun being mortal enemies or something… Where is Winnie anyway, not enough glory being the plus one to a small-town wedding?” Shay grumbled; she heard Cash let out a frustrated sounding sigh behind her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze as unwanted flashbacks from that Thanksgiving trampled her brain. A thick layer of silence fell over their table with a level of awkwardness that matched the one that loomed over them the last holiday the four of them had spent together. That Thanksgiving was the first holiday and last, to Shay’s knowledge, that Cash had brought one of his girlfriends home only he seemed to fail to tell everyone about her including his mother. Everyone was shocked when a redheaded Winnifred Howards popped up out of seemingly nowhere, at least that’s what Daisy told Shay after she’d already gone back to Tyler and New York. Shay wasn’t stupid, she knew when nothing came of her seemingly unrequited crush on him in high school the day would eventually come that Cash showed up with someone better than her in every way on his arm. She had just hoped it would happen at the point in time when she was finally able to put her feelings for Cashton Ewing to rest. All her efforts to do so over the years had failed and Thanksgiving had been Shay’s biggest failure to date.

“Well gee, I guess I see where I fall on your friend roster Shay. You didn’t know I moved less than an hour from you and you apparently didn’t know Winnie and I haven’t seen each other since that Thanksgiving seven years ago either. You can say we broke up I guess but I’d hardly even call her my girlfriend, I just…” Cash trailed, his tone was low and serious but somehow had Shay’s annoyance and anger flaring tenfold. In her eyes Cash put her at the bottom of his friend pool long before she ever put him at hers, sure she distanced herself emotionally that sour summer but after that they still saw each other every day. They still talked regularly, which can only be expected when both of their other friends were dating each other. The emotional distance was more a necessity to protect what was left of her pride because she’d been stupid enough to fall for her best friend, the most desirable boy at their school. She’d also had been stupid enough to let herself believe that there might be something between them on far too many occasions for her liking. The last of which was that heavy conversation on Thanksgiving they had in his bedroom, which seemed more like a confessional more than anything to Shay now. Whatever hope of requited love she had during that conversation walked right out the door when an overtly perky redhead came in and insisted Cash help her and his mom in the kitchen. No amount of Cash pleading with Winnie to give them a few more minutes could ever make that level of heartbreak go away. It was a level that surpassed the angsty melodramatic one she felt most of that lonely summer with her aunt in LA but still it wasn’t quite as gut wrenching as walking into Tyler’s hotel suite in Cleveland later that evening.

Shay felt her green eyes well up with bitter, vulnerable tears before she finally turned her gaze back to Cash. Cash gazed back at her with intense, melancholy looking blue eyes that seemed to be searching hers for something. You could cut through the growing tension between the two with a knife as another awkward type of silence overtook their table.

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“Daisy, she really looks like she might kill him right now maybe this wasn’t a good idea…” Pete said in a hushed voiced, his brown eyes were fixated on the two friends he’d known since his grade school years with a fearful type of fascination. Daisy sighed, still looking at the pair like she was very much watching a soap opera.

“I know, I don’t even know what happened. They looked so cute when we got here, maybe we should just let them have lunch alone. Cash seems to perform better that way, I know he’s nervous but this… this is just sad” Daisy muttered, Pete stifled a chuckle as he finally let his eyes fall on the love his life adoringly.

“We still can you know, lovely. Honestly, they probably won’t even notice at this point. We could go to the beach and sip cocktails, we could even…” Pete trailed, Daisy furrowed her dark brows at him although she was smiling at him as brightly as ever.

“We could even what?” Daisy asked.

“Leave the rest of the planning for the wedding and the parties up to them. The two of them working together might implore them to finally unpack allll of this” Pete said in the same hushed tone as he motioned between their two glowering best friends. Daisy bit her lip, pondering his proposal for a moment. Honestly, nothing could be worse than whatever was going on between the two now.

“I love it when you encourage me to play matchmaker, my lovely but what if Shay actually kills him?” Daisy said in a joking tone as she started jotting a quick letter for their unsuspecting best friends on a piece of paper. Pete stifled another chuckle.

“She loves him too much besides you and Shay weren’t going to get any real planning done with Cash doing… what his doing now?” Pete said letting out an almost disappointed sounding sigh as he took in the sight of Cash gripping Shay’s face in one of his large palms and gently squeezing her cheeks with a serious look in his eyes.

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Shay glowered at Cash for what felt like forever partly because she couldn’t decide if she just wanted to argue with him some more or just cry her eyes out. Those always seemed to be the only options she ever had with him since she was fourteen and she hated it.

“I don’t know how that’s my fault Cash, you bring him flings home and treat them like regular girlfriends and somehow it’s my job to be able to spot the difference?” Shay said in a low bitter tone, Cash sighed and with it his blue eyes softened up a bit.

“No, I’m saying you could’ve just asked me, Cherry Blossom, you used to ask me things you know and now you just shut me out…” Cash said in a careful tone, Shay opened her mouth to argue with him but part of her knew she couldn’t because he was right. She had shut him out and she wished she could tell him why, but her words always seemed to fail her when it came to him, and she could never figure out why. Talking to him used to be so easy and now it just felt like an up-hill battle, an endless trek that seemed to lead her nowhere.

“I don’t know what to ask you anymore, Cash, okay. Everything between us is weird and different and awkward, and I just don’t know how to talk to you anymore, I guess. So…” Shay’s rambling was cut short by Cash reaching over to grip her cheeks in the palm of his hand, gently squeezing them between his thumb and fingers with amusement swirling in his blue eyes though his expression was serious.

“So don’t talk, Cherry Blossom” Cash chuckled softly, Shay felt her cheeks flush at both the action and his words as familiar nervous, smitten butterflies swirled in her stomach. His squeeze loosened the slightest bit as the two of them stared deeply into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. Unlike the previous silence they had fallen into over the twenty or so minute emotional rollercoaster they went on, this one was more comforting, more wholesome, and dare Shay allow herself to think it almost loving in an odd way because she for once felt like Cash heard her loud and clear.

“Your foods getting cold, Cherry Blossom…” Cash said just above a whisper though he made no move to let go of Shay’s face for some time even after the words left his mouth and hung in the air. The faint lull of another dreamy indie pop songs floated between them in a way that seemed oddly fitting for the odd little moment they were sharing.

“Well, I can’t really eat until you give me my face back, Cashy. Unless you want to feed me” Shay said almost timidly, she watched Cash’s lips curl into a genuine smile that reminded her of the ones he used to give her when they were silly kids running up and down the sandy beaches. And she swore she felt her heart flutter when his blue eyes lit up at her before looking over at Pete and Daisy.

“I’ll feed you if you want me to darling and I’ll even drive you home, preferably in that fancy new Audi of yours if you’ll let me but you’re definitely going to need a designated driver after lunch…” Cash chuckled, turning Shay’s head to face their table full of food and cocktails with an amused smirk on his face.

“They ditched us” Shay gasped in disbelief taking in Pete and Daisy’s now vacant chairs with wide, mildly offended eyes. Surely the last twenty minutes of her and Cash’s bickering couldn’t have been that bad, no this was all part of meddlesome Daisy’s plan.

“Oh look, they left us a cute little note, how sweet of them” Cash said finally letting go of Shay’s face to grab the piece of paper neatly tucked under one of the cocktail glasses.

“It says and I quote, Dear Shay and Cash, if you're reading this it means you’ve finally noticed Pete and I ditched you bickering old bats to go to the beach or Cash is dead and the detectives assigned to solve his case are reading this…in which case it definitely was not Shaylee Harris. Cash is pretty and all but he ain’t that smart and I’m sure he just pissed off another blonde and got himself shot in the shoulder nothing to worry about…. Any who, during your insistent bickering Pete and I decided your problems would best be solved by you two spending some quality alone time together 😉. From here on out you two will be tasked with working out our wedding details and planning those parties TOGETHER. We know you can do it just put those pretty heads of yours together and figure it out, talk it out, kiss it out…. DO WHATEVER IT TAKES, just get on with it already. Lunch and cocktails are on us. Have fun, lots of fun, Love Pete and Daisy” Cash finished reading out loud.

“Ugh, they planned this you know” Shay said glancing over at Cash with the fainted pout on her face and rosy cheeks. Cash flashed her yet another uncharacteristically sheepish smile that had Shay narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion because she swore, he was blushing.

“Were you in on this too…Casanova?” Shay asked him pointedly, Cash shook his head and busied himself by twirling her pasta on a fork.

“No, Cherry Blossom, I can honestly say this…was all them but I’d be lying if I said having an excuse to be attached at your hip for the foreseeable future wasn’t making me giddy. Now be a good girl and eat some of this for me, I’d hate to see you hurl all over those nice leather seats of yours, beautiful” Cash said raising the fork to her mouth with a teasing smile on his face.

“This is going to be the longest few weeks of my entire life…” Shay muttered, picking up her wine glass with a soft, defeated sounding sigh despite how many flips her stomach was doing….

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

#thomas ian griffith #black friday 2007 #eventual smut #cash ewing #friends to lovers #cash x oc #the kidnapping 2007 #terry silver #summer romance

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pearlescent-poppies · 5 months

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Here’s the pre-story for the first book of my Fairy Tales series! Sleeping Beauty: Flower Husbands

At the age of thirteen, Prince Scott began to sneak into the forest bordering his kingdom of Rivendell, a mountainous place covered in snow and known for its flora and fauna. The particular forest Scott frequented happened to sit below Rivendell. Which meant the trek was pretty dangerous all things considered; but he just needed to get away. His 18th birthday was rapidly approaching, and with that, his duties and lessons as a prince were beginning to pile up. Five years may seem like a long time, but it really wasn’t. So any chance the young elf had, he would flee to the tranquility of nature. Today had been exceptionally bad, with fencing, mathematics, cultures, and dancing all packed into a mere 6 hours. He had needed to get out, so he did. Back to the only place he ever felt truly happy anymore. Scott walked the familiar paths and just… breathed. The presence of his best friend next to him and the fresh air was all he needed to feel better. By best friend, he of course, meant Owen. The stag that had been his for as long as he could remember, and his riding partner, as horses weren’t something that lived in a cold place like Rivendell.

“It’s nice out today, isn’t it Owen? I’ll sneak you an orange later for bringing me down here,” Scott said, and pressed his forehead against the stag’s muzzle in an affectionate gesture. See, Owen was a strange being. One time, when Scott had been young and eating an orange, the creature came up behind him and ate the fruit right out of his hand. They had been Owen’s favourite ever since. Scott laughed at the memory and kept walking.

After about a half hour of peace, Scott heard something that had caught his attention. A beautiful series of bird calls that might have been the prettiest thing Scott had heard his whole life. Intrigued, the cyan haired elf followed the calls to a small corner-clearing where the mountains of Rivendell met the forest.

Scott hummed and in a moment of hesitation, tied Owen’s reins to a tree, “I’ll be right back,” he murmured and patted the side of the stag’s face. Scott took a deep breath and entered the area. He was surprised to say the least, in the middle of the clearing, next to a pond, was a boy. An avian, it seemed, about Scott’s own age with bright yellow wings and wearing a simple sky blue dress that flared around where he sat. Sunlight seemed to kiss him from every direction, hair lit up like a halo and his wings glinted gold. He was chirping and twittering up a storm with some birds. Whatever they seemed to be conversing about had the boy’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

Scott watched, stunned for a few moments before calling out, suddenly desperate to get to know the avian, “Hello?” Scott called. The boy jumped and whirled to face him, having been cut off mid sentence. Scott waited a few minutes but the boy said nothing. It seemed to Scott that he was too frightened to speak. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just… um… heard you and the birds? And well…” the prince trailed off. What was happening to him? Scott was usually far more eloquent than this. He was graceful and had all the confidence befitting of his stature. This was not who he was.

The mysterious boy giggled at him, “No, no, you’re okay,” his sentence was interrupted with more giggles, “I’m just not used to others, you said you heard us?” He tilted his head in question, one of the wing tufts covering his ears extended in a way that continued to indicate the question in his tone.

“Yeah!” Scott was beginning to come back to himself. “It was so pretty, I had to come investigate! I didn’t expect to find anyone though,” Scott walked further into the clearing and it really was gorgeous. A miniature valley dotted with various kinds of flowers and framed by small peaks.

The avian blushed, ear wings flitting up and down quickly, “Y- you thought it was pretty?”

Scott nodded, “Yeah, one of the prettiest things I’ve ever heard.” He stopped next to the boy and looked down at him. His hair was blonde and fluffy, almost as fluffy as Scott’s own. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his eyes were a warm brown. He was gorgeous. Scott’s face flushed much in the same way the boy’s had mere moments before.

The avian was stunned for a moment, why was this stranger being so nice? “Here, sit… unless you’re a murderer or something?” he said sheepishly. Scott sat down at the invitation, close enough that their knees brushed together ever so slightly.

“Definitely not, I’m actually a prince.” Well that was probably a dangerous thing to say, oh well. He doubted this gorgeous boy would be able to hurt him anyways.

“Really? That’s incredible! My godmothers love to tell me stories about royalty! I’m… no one special though, probably not worth your time actually, um, sorry,” he rambled, getting quieter as he went.

The boy had begun to pull away slightly when Scott placed a hand on his knee. Desperate not to let him go for some reason. “What? No! You’re probably one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met, even if I don’t know your name,” Scott smiled softly.

“O-oh! That’s… wow,” the other muttered to himself. “Oh! I’m so sorry your highness! I should’ve, should’ve introduced myself sooner. I’m Jimmy.” Scott giggled, Jimmy, huh? It suited the adorable avian.

“It’s nice to meet you Jimmy. Please, don’t use a title for me or anything, just Scott is fine. I’m Scott,” he introduced.

“Scott… okay then,” Jimmy said his name like he was testing it out. He wanted to hear his name forever with that voice. Scott paused. What in Aeor’s name was with him?

After their introductions, Scott and Jimmy talked about everything and nothing for hours. The canary and the frost elf spoke like they had known each other their whole lives. Scott even went and got Owen for Jimmy to meet at one point. The avian had been scared at first, he had never seen a stag before afterall. Scott watched with a grin and a face he was sure was going to be pink forever after this, as his best friend and Jimmy bonded. Eventually, however, as the sun was setting, they had to part ways.

“Will… will I ever see you again? Scott asked and grabbed the canary’s hand.

“I hope so. This has been… this has been wonderful. You’re welcome here anytime Scott. Really. I’m out here most days so come find me whenever you get the chance, yes?” Jimmy entwined their fingers and gave Scott’s hand a squeeze.

Scott squeezed Jimmy’s hand back, “Yes, absolutely.”

Jimmy’s smile was sad but hopeful as he came closer and kissed the elf on the cheek, “Goodbye, Scott.” Their hands slipped away from each other as the avian gave him one last smile and left.

“Bye,” he murmured, hand going up to touch the spot Jimmy had just kissed him. Scott watched Jimmy walk away for as long as he could before he mounted Owen’s back. Scott flicked Owen’s reins and as they started the journey home, he knew he was about to start the adventure of a lifetime.

The End

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zahri-melitor · 1 year

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Okay, Babspoll thoughts.

John Ostrander & Kim Yale: it’s all about Oracle Year One. Their combined rehab job of Barbara as an effective hero on the pages of Suicide Squad, then writing her reasoning? It’s beautiful, I know why they’re popular.

Alan Moore: I did say everyone significant. Unfortunately Moore simultaneously wrote the most significant thing that ever happened to Barbara as a character, while failing to centre HER in the narrative of her injury.

Chuck Dixon: as much as I respect Ostrander and Yale’s work, we wouldn’t have the Oracle we know and remember today if Dixon hadn’t given us Birds of Prey and Dick/Barbara (and Barbara & Dinah what do you mean this is completely straight). He made her an essential part of the nascent Batfam. He gave her so many community connections and made her a central figure among the heroes. He made her a team leader. Plus he wrote Batgirl Year One, which is the main reimagining of Babs’ Batgirl period post-Crisis and well beloved.

Gail Simone gave Barbara what nobody else had ever bothered to do - more women friends. She also altered the feel of Birds of Prey to be less “single agent sent in on a mission” James Bond style and to be a more complex juggle of experts with different skillsets for larger missions. She gave Barbara more scope. Simone also ups the ‘Barbara as a mentor’ stakes and has her training more teenagers, and I love Babs as a mentor figure.

Tony Bedard managed two particular stand out moves in his run, in my opinion. The first was the fight scene with the Joker, where Barbara got to tell him in person “you have taken nothing from me”. The second is the way Babs moves everyone to Platinum Flats and openly denies this is partly due to proximity to where Ollie and Dinah are living, I don’t know what you’re talking about, also agent please keep spying on the Arrows and reporting everything they’re doing to me.

Kelley Puckett as much made this list for his two Babsgirl issues as for Batgirl 2000. He’s one of the few writers who writes her both as Batgirl and as Oracle in this period, so he’s thought about the difference. Also he created the Barbara as mentor dynamic, which I love and which has provided so much over the years.

Bryan Q. Miller is probably my least favourite Babs writer who isn’t Alan Moore. His best stuff with her is with Wendy/Proxy - I feel he missed the mark with her otherwise.

Grant Morrison gave us the main Oracle on the JLA run. And respect for putting her in that weight class and respecting how important her skills were to the whole community. She’s helped save the planet a time or two.

John Francis Moore I popped in as he actually has an interesting overlooked duology of issues with Barbara and Selina: one while Babs is Batgirl and one while she is Oracle. He also wrote Batman: Family which has one of the broadest scale Batfam team ups of post-Crisis (I think the only event with more core and peripheral members involved is Battle for the Cowl). And I’m always interested in more pre-Oracle content.

Devin Grayson uses Barbara a lot but has the usual issue that she’s SO dramatic. Her best stuff with Babs is probably the Dick/Babs breakup phone calls in Nightwing #100, and how she counsels Dick and Tim in Gotham Knights #26. Unfortunately Grayson also wrote GK #6 which turned the already-complicated ‘how is Barbara biologically related to Jim’ into an even more painful snarl. Jim’s her dad no question but didn’t need to be her bio dad, you know?

Overlooked (ran out of slots): Barbara Randall Kesel. Kesel wrote both Flawed Gems and the Last Batgirl Story, and established the immediate post-Crisis state of Barbara. A lot of this was later overlaid/retconned by Batgirl Year One, but Kesel’s important as she’s the writer who brought Babs over to post-Crisis.

#barbara gordon #writer comparisons

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filminghere · 8 months

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15 People, 15 Questions

Tagged by @norashelley. Thank you so much for the tag, Rose! I won't tag 15 people, but anyone who wants to do this, please feel free! I'll tag @sonnet77 @glamourofyesteryear @ladybegood @audreytotter @valsemelancolique @summers-in-hollywood and @oldhollywoodholla

1. Are you named after anyone?

Technically, the Biblical figure (mother of John the Baptist & cousin of Mary, the mother of Christ).

2. When was the last time you cried?

Earlier today while I was reading! I cry very easily when I watch movies/videos, read books, hear touching stories, etc. Today though, I cried for a very odd reason (I didn't cry because something in the story touched me, which is usually why I cry while reading a book; I actually cried because I related too hard to the protag).

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I did a lot of sports during elementary school that I was bad at lol. I was never good at anything athletic. The sports I did the longest were swimming and tae kwon do (was at least able to get a first degree black belt before quitting).

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Hm, not too often, I don't think. My problem is that I'm too honest/blunt; I don't have the wit to be able to use sarcasm 😅.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their face. And the thing I notice first about their face is their nose. I focus a lot on nose shapes lol.

7. What’s your eye color?

Dark, dark, dark brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings 100%!!! I'm not scared of scary movies, but I really don't enjoy them.

9. Any talents?

Art

10. Where were you born?

In a hospital in the United States of America haha

11. What are your hobbies?

Watching movies, reading books, writing, video editing

12. Do you have any pets?

No. I had two Zebra finches until pretty recently, but then one of them died, and I didn't want to get another finch (Zebra finches shouldn't be alone). We actually had gotten another finch after one died a few years back, and I didn't want to be in an endless cycle of getting a new finch every time one of them died. It was too emotionally taxing, and honestly, I don't think I'm a very good pet owner. I don't think I'm someone who personally wants to put in the time and care you should put into raising pets, so we gave the living finch away to a woman who owns several Zebra finches. And to be clear, it's not that we bought the birds and regretted them! They were given to my family because the original owner just had too many birds. I liked them a lot and wish I could've done more for them; I didn't really put serious care into them until later on, and I regret that a lot now. But the living finch is doing well in his new home now.

13. How tall are you?

5'2"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Literature. I did not have the capacity to pay attention during any class except in lit class because I enjoy reading and talking about books.

15. Dream job?

As of now, it's to be a children's novelist-illustrator (I don't want to say a writer-illustrator because I think that gives the impression that I want to write picture books, but I actually want to write middle grade novels with illustrations in them 😂). I finished a manuscript for a book a few months back, but it's taking me FOREVER to do the illustration part. So who knows when I'll actually finish it and if I'll actually be able to put it out...

Unrealistically, I really want to be a criminal investigator, but I don't think I have any of the skills needed for that kind of a job. And I know most criminal investigators start out as cops, and I know I don't have the skills to be a cop lol.

#personal #tag game #text

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demonfox38 · 1 month

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Completed: Final Fantasy III (Pixel Remaster)

You know what? Yeah, it was.

Most of the time, when I start these evaluations, I go through what lead me to playing the game. It usually falls under the category of "life is complicated; played a video game to cope." This evaluation's edition is…uniquely spicy, in that regard. And by spicy, I mean soppy. You see, my parents have been living with me for several weeks as a result of a flood wiping out half of their house and town, as well as most of the vehicles. (The verdict's still out on whether or not my dad's Astro van will come back to life.) I also lost my car in the flood, as I was there when it hit. Luckily, no creature died! But, it's been a rough recovery period. Lots of mud-slopped possessions to wash—if they can be recovered at all.

So, I went from a house of 2 dogs, 1 human to 4 dogs, 3 humans, and 1 bird. "Life is complicated."

Not to say my summer was completely ruined! I was able to visit @jeannettegray for a few days, so that was a good reprieve! It's just mostly been me putting in my 40 hours at work, then putting in an additional 8-16 while I either babysit animals or clean possessions. When I haven't been working, I've mostly been sitting around with my parents, watching whatever they put on TV. 15+ year old sitcoms, crafting videos, and corpse shows, baby.

I finally reached the point where I didn't care if they were snooping on me while I was on the computer or a game console. I had to do something to keep myself sane while yet another re-run spooled itself out. My first attempt to get back to my 12 games beaten goal for this year was actually with a mushy-graphiced version of "Final Fantasy VI" that is no longer available on Steam for purchase. That lasted all of 5 minutes due to poor input mapping issues with the game. "Fine," I thought. "There's a deal on a Pixel Master set for 1-6. I would play at least half of these again."

And then I pivoted to "Final Fantasy III." The other "Final Fantasy III." The actual "Final Fantasy III."

Coping happened!

Now, it's never fun to acknowledge when you're a stereotype. But, on occasion, one must come clean. I am one of those insufferable bastards who is much more likely to play pre-"Final Fantasy VII" games and claim them to be among my favorites of the series. Like, I'm pro "Final Fantasy II" and willing to run a new "Final Fantasy I" file at any time. That kind of bastard. Having said that, I actually haven't been able to play an iteration of "Final Fantasy III" before! It was one of those games that got locked in Japan, only having a release in terms of a Nintendo DS remake in the late 2000s.

Could I have hunted down a fan translation of this game? Sure. It is nice to have this game handed over on a platter, though. Especially, such a well-polished platter!

"Final Fantasy III" focuses on the story of four dink-ass orphans who drop into a hole and accidentally get jobs from a hidden magic crystal. They are then tasked with defending the other crystals, fixing elements from going out of whack, and eventually stuffing encroaching darkness back into the void from whence it came. Ya know. Your average "Final Fantasy" experience.

While the plot feels a lot like "Final Fantasy 1 2.0," the interesting portions of it come more from the beat-to-beat moments. Like, discovering that the land you are on is actually a floating continent being propelled by ancient machinery, for one. Finding out the world is flooded and almost every living being is turned to stone? Woof. That was a punch in the gut. So was the bit in Saronia, when you have the misfortune of being shot down and dragged into its town-wide civil war. From a 30,000-foot elevation, yeah, this game can look average. But, you do miss out on some cool looking critters from that high up. You definitely don't see into the cave depths that this runs, either!

Coming to this game so late, I imagine a lot of people are going to be thrown by how simple the game itself really is. There is a job system here, so veterans of "Final Fantasy V" may expect some value in multi-classing and maxing out experience in as many jobs as possible. Honestly? There's not a lot of reason to do that. You have options, sure. But, it's more about sticking to your guns and maxing out your job level to get the most value out of the class as possible. If you miss out on grinding out Bards and Evokers, well…are you really missing that much? Just stick to what you like, and problems will work themselves out.

The game does try to force players into shifting roles around, depending on what's going on at the time. I don't think you really have to force a player to carry a White Mage in the party, but the game does throttle progress until you use one to shrink characters or transform them into toads. Similar attempts are made to force the Scholar, Thief, Black Mage, and Dark Knight classes, although some can be worked around with the right toolset (or just a stubborn "don't give a damn" attitude.)

Additionally, the game enjoys being a little shithead about hidden passageways. You'd better get used to looking for cracks in the walls and pushing yourself through gaps. First, for better items. Then, to actually beat the game! If you have a shred of Metroidvania skills, it's not the worst to deal with. It does require some level of concentration, though. Maybe slowing down and not being on mach speed 24/7.

Speaking of which—the "Pixel Remaster" version of "Final Fantasy III" may be the easiest version of this game released to date. Particularly, with its speed modifiers, experience multipliers, and even the ability to just. Turn the monster encounters off. Like, okay! I know what speed runners are abusing for this one! Additional fun features include the ability to switch between music types and plopping filters on to make your computer look more like an old CRT television set. Which, hey. I'm crusty enough to put the original music back on, but that filter might be a bit too much.

You tell me.

It's very clear that a lot of people put hard work into this game. Like, if the several studios listed at the end weren't evidence enough. But, yes. Someone clearly put work into shining these sprites up. At first, I was wondering if they were for some WonderSwan remake that never made it to the United States. But, these seem to be new for the release itself. That, and the rescored, live-recorded soundtrack that I immediately turned off in favor of old bleep-bloops.

I know. You'd think someone who had played flute and bassoon would have more respect for that sort of thing. It is a bit excessive for what I'm visually seeing, though. Nothing wrong in appreciating what's older, either!

About the only accessibility issue I noticed was some minor flashing with the game towards the latter half. (It wasn't too overwhelming, but it's better to mention it happening than not say anything at all.) Otherwise, hell. Between controls over monster spawning, EXP/gold multipliers, and a glut of language options, this is probably about the most accessible this game is ever going to get. Shit, it even has a tracker for seeing what treasures are available for you to pick up, as well as what hidden items you may have missed!

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a better version of this game. I mean, sure, there's the DS remake if you wanted your characters to have character or whatever. (Although, frankly, I'm one of those insufferable bastards that is happier having their characters shut up, if the characters are just going to spend the next 30+ hours being mopey, whiny, or over-caffeinated.) But, honestly? This is what I wanted. Famicom base code and square waves. A gentle coat of paint. A few accessibility options to make treasure/monster/achievement hunting less of a pain in the ass. Excellent. The only design choice I would have made differently is somehow augmenting the palette for each sprite to match the default Onion Knight color of each character. Like, pink guy always having pink highlights or base colors, green for green, etc. But, hey. It's not like the original game was doing that, either.

Well, someone could have polished up the NPC following code, too. Poor stuttery little guys just can't keep up!

Individually, "Final Fantasy III" is currently around $18.00 USD on Steam. However, there is a bundle to get all "Pixel Remaster" games for a discount as well that you may wish to consider. I'd wait for it to dip under $60.00 USD if you wanted to go that route, as that bundle does tend to get discounted more often than not. But, if there's three of the games that you'd be into from that set, you might as well scoop them all up. I've certainly enjoyed them in rougher states than this!

Again, though. You're reading something written by a person that is pro-"Final Fantasy II" and indifferent to "VII." Someone who habitually and gleefully plays "Quest 64." My sense of "good" may be much different than yours.

I suppose we all cope differently, don't we?

#post game evaluation #final fantasy iii #final fantasy pixel remaster

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acop88 · 1 month

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The Lazy Bird Speakeasy

Tuesdays aren’t exactly the best day to hit a club, but it was on a Tuesday night that Amelia went out with her English co-workers to celebrate their impending summer freedom. Her best friend and co-teacher Layla, the other sophomore English II teacher Zoe, Layla’s boyfriend and yearbook teacher Trent, and the very cool (and very gay) Brad, another co-teacher. They had heard about a speakeasy underneath the Hoxton hotel in Chicago’s West Loop and wanted to check it out.

Layla and Trent led the way through the ritzy lobby of the hotel, the other three trailing behind, gabbing as they went. “I think it’s this way,” Trent sighed. “I think…”

“I heard it’s in the basement, so surely there’s a staircase somewhere.” Amelia laughed and pointed toward the south side of the lobby. “Stairs to the basement.”

“Our little navigator,” Brad said, pinching her cheek as they walked along, arm-in-arm. “Let’s find it, I’m ready to get my flirt on.”

She giggled. “I wonder how many people will be here, it’s pretty early.” It had just passed 9:00. They were coming from a taco joint across the street, where the margaritas flowed freely. She didn’t usually drink but Amelia felt like celebrating. It had been one of her toughest years in the classroom yet, year 6 in Chicago.

The group walked down the stairs, where there was an arrow pointing down and the logo for the Speakeasy on the wall. As they rounded the last landing, there was a row of books at the end of the long hallway and another group in front of them, looking confused. Three guys and two girls were searching amongst the books, the last girl turning around upon hearing footsteps behind her.

“Hey, finally, some reinforcements. We don’t get the riddle.” The girl was pretty and thin, dolled up in a skintight black dress and maybe a little younger than them in her late 20s. She had dark brown hair and a thankful smile. “Google let us down.”

Layla and Trent were first to come up to the frame in the center of the bookcase. It was a riddle that read “I am a symbol of beauty and grace, yet my choices leave a bitter trace. I long for love, but wealth I chase, In East Egg’s charm, I find my place.”

Amelia, Brad, and Zoe walked up next, reading it in their heads, and then looked at each other. “Daisy Buchanan.” The three laughed, looking around at the other books around them.

The two guys to Amelia’s left smiled at her, one Hispanic looking guy and a taller, athletic African American guy. His eyes looked back to the frame, and to her. “Do you know who it is?”

“East Egg is a fictional island from the Great Gatsby, where the old money lived. Daisy Buchanan was Gatsby’s long-lost love.” She smiled back at him. “We’re high school English teachers.”

The taller one smiled brighter, taking a step closer to her. “So, we must have to find something with a daisy on it? What do y’all think?”

She nodded, not at all trying to find a book, but looking up at him. He was handsome, at least 6’3” and had the kindest light brown eyes. He was wearing a dark blue chambray button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his arms were huge. “Agreed.”

His friends to the far right, the pretty girl and her boyfriend with light bleached hair at the tips found the book. “This shelf has it!” She pulled it back, and the bookcase started to open from the middle, revealing a small doorway.

The group was relieved.

“We’re a bunch of detectives,” the man said, looking from the door back to her again. He smiled brightly, raising his left hand to her for a high-five. “Good teamwork.”

She bit her lip, dorkily raising her right to meet his. It looked very small in comparison to his, and she gently pulled away.

Both sets of friends seemed to pick up on the staring contest and walked into the room without the man or Amelia. It was louder now, the basement beyond the bookcase revealing a dimly lit bar, with 3-4 smaller areas with couches and booths, small tables adjoining.

“Do you detectives have anywhere to sit,” Amelia asked, breaking the staring contest. It seemed like they were looking at each other for a minute straight. “I mean, my group reserved that red couch area, and we should have some extra room.”

He smiled bigger. “That would be great. This was kind of a last-minute decision to come here….my partner Adam wanted to try it.” He held out his left hand, gesturing for her to walk in first, and they found both sets of friends talking in the far-left corner, where the red leather couch she’d reserved was situated.

Her friend Brad was eagerly talking to blonde girl from the man’s group. They both smiled brightly at their friends. “So, I invited them to sit with us,” Brad stated, eyeing Amelia and the man. “I think we need introductions.” He sat on the closest corner of the couch, with the blonde and Zoe next to him.

Trent and Layla were on chairs across from the leather couch, with the other couple and the Hispanic guy on the others 3, leaving the only space to sit down on the far corner of the couch. Amelia sat next to Zoe, with the man on the end. Her dotted green dress had a slit on her left side, and her bare knee grazed against his jeans.

“I’m Brad,” her friend stated, starting the conversation. “These are my favorite co-workers Layla and Trent. This is Zoe. Aaaand this lovely creature is Amelia,” he gestured to her, winking at the handsome man beside her.

“Amelia,” the man said, smiling at her. He chuckled at the wink and looked around to his friend. “So, I’m Kevin and this is my team, Hailey (the blonde), Dante (the Hispanic guy) and Adam and Kim.” Everyone started chatting to those around them, leaving Amelia and Kevin to turn closer together. “So can I buy you a drink, as a thank you? Ya’ll saved the day.”

Amelia smiled, nodding. “That’d be great. Want to head up to the bar?” She shot up and met Brad’s knowing smile as Kevin followed her ten feet north to the wrap-around bar. It looked like it had been there for 100 years, very art-deco, with bartenders dressed all in black. “Sorry for my friend,” she told him, grabbing an available stool on the left side. “He’s a bit of a drama king.”

He joined her, chuckling to himself. “They seem really cool.” The music coming from the corner was much louder up there, so he leaned into her right ear. “So do you.” He kept her gaze before sliding over a menu from the corner. “What’s your drink of choice?”

She looked it over, settling on her usual order of a Moscow mule, pointing at it. “This is looking good. What about you?”

He pointed to the old-fashioned. “Seems appropriate for the theme. Was that Gatsby’s drink?”

“He didn’t drink, funny enough. He just threw the parties to get Daisy’s attention.”

He nodded. “It’s been forever since I’ve read anything like that. Do you teach it?”

“I do,” she smiled. “Did. We’re celebrating our summer break starting.”

“Good way to start the summer,” Kevin smiled brighter, biting his lip again as he looked her over. She had a cropped black leather jacket that hit her at waist level, and her left leg was slightly exposed again from the slit in the dress.

She felt sexy in his presence, shifting her posture closer to him, her wedges hitting the legs of the bar stool. “What brings you guys here?”

He looked down at the menu again, smile fading slightly. “We just got off a tough case, wanted to blow off some steam.” He looked back at her. “I don’t really do places like this, but I got talked into tagging along. Good team bonding, you know?” He started looking around the room as she nodded. “Plus I heard it was 90s night.”

“I don’t either,” she admitted. “And I’m sorry about your case…can I…ask about it?”

“I can’t get into a lot of details, but I was undercover. Got to know a young brother, he got into it with some patrol officers, and he ended up getting shot.” He looked down, rubbing his knees. “But it’s a long story…. I’d rather talk about you,” he said cheekily, bumping up against her right side.

She smiled. “Well, if you need to talk about it later, I’m here. I’m an excellent listener.” Was he flirting? Was she flirting back? It had been a while.

“I can tell. But I am too, lay it on me.”

Just as he said that the bartender headed their way, a smaller white guy with tattoos on his neck. “What’ll it be for you two?”

“Can we get an old-fashioned and a Moscow Mule?” He pulled out a black credit card from his left jeans pocket. “And two waters.”

The bartender rang them up and handed back the card.

“So where are you from?”

“I live in Roscoe Village,” she said, turning back toward him. “But I’m not from here, I’m from Cleveland.”

“I can tell.”

“How?”

“It’s going to sound weird, but you’re naturally pretty. Chicago girls wear ten pounds of makeup.” He grinned. “I’m from Chicago so I can say that.”

She blushed a little bit. “Where in Chicago?”

“Bronzeville, but I live here in the West Loop. That’s where I’m stationed.”

They got their drinks. “I’m so sorry about your case, though. We lost two of our students this year to violence, I don’t know how anyone can get used to that.”

“Not like Cleveland, huh?”

“I’ve been here for six years and it’s the only thing I don’t understand about this place, the violence is crazy.” She paused, playing with the rim of her gold cup. “But I’m glad there’s good people trying to protect it.”

He took a sip of his whiskey, smiling. “I’m not really ready to go back to our friends, are you?”

“I could stay here a bit.” She took a sip of her drink too. They talked for almost an hour, about everything and anything; her family, his family. Politics. Music. They were finishing up their drinks when her phone went off. “I’m being called to the ladies’ room, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, licking his lips as she stood.

Her legs were shaking as he did so, and she felt like doing a little sashay toward the bathroom, her wedges clicking in a rhythm against the dark hardwood floor. When she walked in, Zoe and Layla were right by the sinks. “Hi.”

“Heeeeey,” they said in unison.

She blushed. “What’s up?”

“He’s cute,” Zoe said. “We wanted to let you know that that’s the only reason we’re okay with you ditching us.”

“I did not ditch you guys, we just…..got into some good conversation at the bar.” Her smile widened as she checked the mirror. She was blushing hard, but it accentuated the minimal makeup she put on for tonight - just a bit of mascara and tinted ChapStick. “Are you guys having fun?”

“Not as much as you,” Layla said with a smirk, grabbing her arm. “We also wanted to let you know that the detectives are super nice, and they have nothing but good things to say about Kevin. He’s only a few months older than you, 33.”

“I know,” she said with a sarcastic haughty tone, smiling. “We talked about that. And his family, and them, and a lot of things. I didn’t realize it was almost 10:30.” She took out her tinted Chapstick from her purse and freshened up her lips.

“Aaaaaand Kim and I were talking,” Zoe said. “He’s dated a little bit but not seriously in the last year. She said they’ve worked together for nearly ten years and he’s a teddy bear. They have crazy work hours and it’s hard to meet people. That’s why she’s dating someone on her team.”

Amelia nodded. “Interesting.”

“Are you going to come back to us? You can get cozy on the couch with him,” Layla said with a smirk. “I’m a little jealous.”

“You’re dating someone,” Zoe replied, laughing and splashing her with some water as she washed her hands.

“We don’t flirt like that anymore,” She frowned. “I’m living vicariously.”

“Anyway,” Zoe said. “Brad and I think that you should come back to the couch area and dance.”

Amelia smiled, taking off her jacket, draping it around her arms. Her multi-colored Fossil bag stood out against her teal dress, showing off her decolletage even more. “Does this look slutty now? I’m burning up.”

“Yeah you are, girl,” Layla said, smacking her on her bottom. “Go see what Kevin thinks?”

Amelia nodded, taking a deep breath and headed back out to the bar. Kevin was in the same stool, checking his hair in the mirror at the back shelves. It was neat and twisted. He smiled as she sat back down, looking down at her bare arms.

“Welcome back. Everything okay?”

“They just wanted to check in. See if you were a creeper….” She took a sip of water. “I got hot.”

He smirked. “What did you tell them?”

“I did not say that you were a creeper, I promise.”

“I trust you.” He looked at her dress, then at her lips, now shinier from the Chapstick. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” She started fanning herself. “I told them that I lost track of time, that I’m having a really nice time, actually.”

“Me too.”

A slower song came over the loudspeakers than they’d heard all night, a 90s R&B song. “Man this is an old song.” She recognized it as “I Wanna Know” by Joe.

“Do you want to dance?” His soft expression was hopeful, as he looked from her to the handful of couples dancing closer to their friends by the red couch.

She nodded, following his lead and standing up. They walked over to the couch so she could drop off her jacket and her bag, leaving it in the capable hands of Zoe who gave her a big grin.

Kevin gently grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him to the side of the band, and rested both of his hands on her lower back, just under her waist. There was a six-piece band and a male and female singer. “Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched.”

She rested her hands on the back of his shoulders, not wanting to look away. They were wide and strong, and her stomach was doing flips. “Oh yeah, I love my crew but they’re nosy.”

He chuckled, “Mine is too.”

“I think this was the first song that I ever slow danced to,” she admitted, recognizing the chorus.

“Had to have been about middle school, right?”

Amelia nodded, looking deeper into his eyes. He was a good five inches taller than her, and she felt so small in his presence, yet so safe. He smoothed his fingers up and down her back, noticing her get the chills.

“Are you okay?” He inched his head down, closer to her left ear as the music got louder.

She smiled, feeling their bodies press closer, and nodded. He smelled so good, a little musky and a little sweet. Teakwood and tobacco. There was a hint of whiskey on his breath. “Just got a little cold.”

“I gotchu,” he said, taking a step closer so now that there was no room between them.

Amelia’s eyeline was at his lips. She swayed back and forth, their rhythm becoming one. Her heartbeat was quick, butterflies rushing around her stomach as his left hand grabbed her right, intertwining her arm into his and resting it against his chest, the only thing separating them. She noticed roman numerals on his hand. “Can I ask about your tattoo?”

“It’s for my brother and sister,” he replied softly, into her right ear, the chorus getting louder. “I was twelve when they were born, and I wanted something to keep me accountable to them.”

“I couldn’t imagine being a parent at that age.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It’s one of the things I’m most proud of in my life, but with them in Texas I’m ready to take some time for me.” He licked his lips, looking down, into her eyes. “I mean, I’m ready to show someone else what I got to give.”

“Anyone in mind,” she asked, a flirtatious smile teasing her lips.

“As a matter of fact, there is someone...She’s got the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.” He let go of her hand, moving both of his down further to the sides of her hips, closing all space between them.

She didn’t move her gaze from his for a moment, nearly freezing in her tracks. He tenderly dug his fingers into her sides, reassuring her.

“I wanna know…how to keep these couples dancing.” The chorus was repeating over and over, nearing the end of the song. The male singer sang out, then the tempo leading into the next song quickened. “This one goes out to the lovers out there…I like the way you work it.”

Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” was being played, followed by some slightly faster songs.

Amelia and Kevin danced silently, closely, sometimes face to face and sometimes cuddling from her back. The band took a break at 11:30 and so they walked over to check on their friends, who were all still conversing on the red couch.

“You guys looked great out there,” Brad said, grinning at her, waving his phone. She sat down next to him in the middle of the couch and took the hint and opened her bag as Kevin rested a hand on the back of her bare shoulder.

“I’m going to get some more water, you want something?”

“Same, please,” she said, a thankful smile, watching him walk over to the bar.

“I like him,” Braid said, watching him too. “Smart guy.”

She smiled brighter. “You having fun?”

“I am, but mainly because you look happier than I’ve ever seen you. You two were practically fucking on the dance floor.”

Zoe overheard this tidbit and leaned over. “That’s what I said.”

Amelia blushed. “Do you think it would be weird if I asked him to take me home?” She saw their reactions, her eyes getting wider. “You know, drive me home. I carpooled with you guys but I’m getting kind of tired.”

“Not at all,” Hailey, the blonde chimed in. “Sorry, we’ve spent half of the night talking about you two.”

“I think you should,” Brad added. “Definitely. You look so happy.”

“We should go get a drink,” Zoe talked to the other two on the couch. “And give them a little privacy.”

“I agree, I could use another.” Hailey smiled at her.as she stood. “Nice to have met you, Amelia.”

Kevin came back just as the three left, handing her a glass.

“Thanks.” She took a gulp appreciatively.

“Did I miss more talk about me being a creep?” He sat down close to her, chuckling.

“Not at all, I was just getting some advice.”

He took a drink and put the glass down on the coffee table. “Advice, huh?”

She nodded, turning her body toward him. “I didn’t want to be too weird, but I was going to ask if you would mind driving me home? I’m getting a little tired.”

He stretched his right arm across the back of the red velvet and smiled. “You took the words right outta my mouth. Just let me tell my team we’re dipping.”

They said their goodbyes to each respective friend group and headed back out to the hallway. The blast of cool air was chilly, and the bright light took some getting used to at first. She stopped to put her jacket back on, and he gently took her hand in his and led her out to the hotel of the parking lot. They didn’t say anything to each other until they reached his car, enjoying the comfortable silence.

“This is me,” he said, leading her over to a blue Dodge. It was low and sleek. Kevin let go of her hand and opened the passenger’s side door for her.

She smiled up at him, not breaking the comfortable silence as he gingerly shut the door. She saw him do a little shuffle over to the driver’s side as he sat down himself. “I saw that.”

He gave a slight shrug, eyeing her up and down before putting in the key. “So Roscoe village?”

“Yep, Belmont and North Leavitt.”

“I think I know the way. Close to Hamlin Park?”

She nodded, smiling, settling back into the leather seat. The inside of the car was immaculate, which she wasn’t expecting. He’d said that he uses his car every day for work – she wondered if he was a neat freak. He was very well groomed. “I like the way you say ‘Park.;”

He put the Hellcat in reverse swiftly and pulled out of the lot. “How do I say it?”

“It’s very Chicago; very smooth.”

He smirked. “That’s just me, you know. The ride, the vibe. I’m cool like that.”

She chuckled. “I couldn’t agree more.”

They chatted more about the car and her neighborhood as they got closer to the condo. At one point a car sped out in front of them, and he reached his right arm out to her leg as he slammed on brakes. His hand rested on her bare knee for a moment, where the slit in her dress parted, and they made eye contact for a second. “Sorry, you, okay?”

“That was totally the mustang’s fault.” Her hand rested on him reassuringly, feeling his strong touch on her bare skin made her realize her stomach butterflies were moving south.

He squeezed her hand, before taking off again. “I had a lot of fun tonight,” he started, eyes on the road. “Do you think you’d want to get together again?”

“A proper date?”

He smiled brighter, looking at her as they approached another red light. “What do you consider a proper date?”

“One without an audience of judging friends,” she said with a laugh.

He agreed, nodding. “Yeah, that was a little weird. But I’m glad I was coerced to come out tonight.”

“Oh, this is my building up here,” she said, as he almost drove by. He pulled up to the tree on the corner and put his blue sedan in ‘park’. “Let me put my number in your phone.”

He handed her his Apple phone after unlocking it with his passcode, and she typed in her number and texted him her name. He replied. “Which one is yours?”

‘I’m the one in the middle.”

He got out and met her at the passenger door. “What do you think about dinner Friday night? Italian?”

“I love Italian food.” She opened the iron gate to her building. “It’s a date.”

He closed the gate behind him, following her up to the front door. It was set further back from the first-floor porch.

She got out her key from her purse and unlocked the bottom doorknob, leading him up one flight of stairs. There was a narrow landing for them to stand by her door, apartment #2. “Thanks for taking me home.”

He looked down at her, her back almost to the door. “It just adds to my smoothness.”

She giggled, reaching up on her wedge shoes to give him a hug. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers brushing up against textured hair at the nape.

Kevin grazed her lower back, leaning his upper body backward for a moment to look into her eyes, silently searching for permission.

Amelia smiled, nodding a little, and leaned her chin up to the right to meet his lips. Her stomach did a little dance, and her heart beat the fastest it had all night.

He broke away for a split second, more of a smug look on his face, “Mmm mmm. I’m gonna need another one of those.”

She reached up again, hands now on his pecs, smiling into the kiss.

He moved his hands up to grab hers and interlaced their fingers by their sides. His tongue asked for entrance as he did so, and they held back and forth for about a minute before needing to come up for air. “Damn.”

She bit her lip shyly but held eye contact.

He smiled, swinging her left hand for a moment, then up to his lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow? With the plan.”

“Sounds good.” She grabbed her key from her bag again, unlocking the door at the sound of her Pittie mix, Rocco. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He watched her walk into her apartment and grinned, in disbelief of the last 4 hours.

Amelia smiled brightly to herself after she closed her door, rushing her dog in a hug. It was an eventful and amazing night.

#kevin atwater fanfiction #chicago pd

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