#I GET TO KEEP THE COOL TIGER OKAY?? I DESERVE IT

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I have many an out of context meme to make for Meteors many of which would be spoilers if they weren't out of context (not like spoilers matter anyway I'm not reliant on some big twist or anything) but anyway I have a brainworm that's not specific to literally anything I just like it as a concept.

Tiger Rock... He's an archivist. Loves his books. History in particular. To me.

That is all.

[lifeofpriya]

Hello love!

So happy to see Jack week back again because he needs the love❤️🥹

Prompt List 5 - Established Relationship (Number 33 - Being a shadow and following reader around the house) - if I remembered correctly!

Jack finally gets a well deserved break and reader happens to be off from work :)

hi!!! i got a little carried away with the fic but i hope y'all enjoy it 🤭🫶🏼

The Bored Boyfriend Blues

wc: 3.1k

You stretch languidly, feeling the softness of your bed against your skin and the comfort of your blankets wrapping you in warmth. It's a rare day off from the grind, and you savor the quietude of the early morning.

Jack's footsteps echo in the hallway, a gentle reminder that you're not alone. He's been home for a week now, nursing his injured abdomen, and the pent-up energy of a pro tennis player in forced rest is palpable in the air. He pokes his head into the room, hair ruffled, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "You up?"

You nod and sit up, the blankets sliding down to reveal the t-shirt and shorts you slept in. The curtains are still drawn, but the faint outline of the sun is starting to brighten the edges of the fabric. "What time is it?" you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Almost ten," Jack replies, stepping into the room and walking over to you. "I know, I know, you're off work today. But I've been bored out of my mind just lying around. Thought maybe we could do something, anything."

You look at him with a mix of pity and amusement. His restlessness is like a caged tiger's, pacing and prowling, looking for an outlet. You've seen this side of him before, the side that craves the thrill of the court and the roar of the crowd.

"Well," you begin, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, "I was planning to run some errands, maybe hit the grocery store, do some cleaning." The thought of Jack following you around like a lost puppy all day was slightly overwhelming, but you knew he needed a distraction. "You up for that?"

Jack's eyes light up. "Perfect. I'll come with you. I need to get out of this house." His voice is a mix of excitement and relief, his usual confidence shining through the frustration of his injury.

You sigh inwardly, but the sight of his hopeful expression is hard to resist. "Okay, give me ten minutes to get ready," you say, standing up and heading to the bathroom. The warmth of the shower wakes you up further, the scent of minty shampoo filling the small space as you wash the last of sleep from your hair. You dress in comfortable jeans and a sweater, and the coolness of the fabric is a reminder of the autumn chill outside.

When you emerge from the bedroom, Jack is already in the kitchen, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, his phone in hand. He's scrolling through a fitness app, looking for a low-impact workout to keep him sane during his recovery. The room smells faintly of toast and the rich aroma of tea brewing. "Ready?" he asks, looking up with an eagerness that's endearing despite the circumstances.

You grab your keys and the shopping list from the counter. "As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, smiling at his enthusiasm. The chilly air hits you as soon as you step outside, and you're grateful for the extra layer of the sweater. The neighborhood is quiet, the leaves on the trees whispering as they dance in the breeze. The car's engine purrs to life, and Jack settles into the passenger seat, his legs stretched out as far as they can go in the limited space.

As you drive through the quaint streets, Jack keeps up a steady stream of chatter, filling you in on the latest tennis gossip and the frustrations of his injury rehabilitation. You listen with half an ear, focused on the road ahead, but you can't help but appreciate his effort to entertain you. The grocery store is bustling with weekend shoppers, their carts laden with supplies for the week. You navigate the aisles with a practiced ease, while Jack follows, his eyes darting around the store like a child in a candy shop.

You watch as he grabs a pack of his favorite gummy bears, holding them up with a mischievous grin. "These are totally part of my recovery diet," he says, winking. You can't help but laugh, taking the bag from him and adding it to the cart. His charisma is infectious, even in the most mundane of settings.

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store reflect off the gleaming floors as you push the cart through the aisles, the sound of carts colliding and chatter in various languages creating a comforting cacophony.

The trip to the grocery store was a welcome distraction for Jack, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the fresh produce and the aisles stocked with endless choices. His excitement over a sale on his favorite energy bars was almost childlike, bringing a smile to your face despite the monotony of the task.

As you walk through the store, you catch glimpses of people doing double takes at the sight of him, trying to place the familiar face. Jack notices too, his cheeks flushing slightly as he lowers his hood and nods politely in response. He's used to the recognition, but today it feels different, more like an intrusion on his private life.

You make your way to the checkout, Jack's eyes still scanning the shelves for any last-minute treats. The line for the self-checkout is surprisingly short, and you quickly scan your items, Jack helping to bag them up. As you step out into the crisp fall air, the weight of the bags in your hands is a comforting reminder of the productivity of the morning.

The drive back home is filled with the sweet silence of companionable boredom, the rustle of paper bags in the backseat punctuating the occasional comment on the weather or the game that played on the radio. When you pull into the driveway, Jack perks up, his eyes scanning the house with the same curiosity he had for the grocery store.

Once inside, you start to unpack the groceries while Jack meanders around the kitchen, peeking into cabinets and the fridge. "I'll make us lunch," he offers, his voice hopeful. It's a rare sight to see him cook, but his boredom has unlocked a previously unseen domesticity.

You agree, handing him the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, watching as he sets to work with a surprising ease. The kitchen quickly fills with the aroma of garlic and tomatoes simmering in olive oil, the sizzle of onions, and the clink of pans. The rhythmic motion of his chopping is almost mesmerizing.

Jack's focus is intense as he cooks, his injury forgotten in the task at hand. He hums under his breath, a tune you recognize from his warm-up playlist, the one that gets him pumped before a big match. You can't help but feel a pang of sadness for him, knowing he's missing the rush of adrenaline that comes with competition.

As the pasta boils, you both take a moment to sit at the kitchen island, sipping tea and watching the dance of steam rise from the pot. The warmth of the room is a stark contrast to the coolness outside, and you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. It's simple moments like these that you cherish with him, away from the flashing lights of his career.

Jack glances over at you, catching your gaze. "Thanks for today," he says, his voice sincere. "It's been… nice, just doing normal stuff."

You smile. "No problem. It's been fun, actually." And it has been. Despite the initial apprehension of having Jack underfoot all day, you've enjoyed the change of pace. You finish putting away the last of the groceries and take a seat at the kitchen table.

The sound of the TV in the living room fills the silence, broadcasting the very tennis tournament Jack should be playing in. You feel a twinge of sadness for him, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's busy stirring the sauce, lost in his own little world of culinary creation. The smell of basil wafts through the air, mingling with the garlic and tomato scents.

You lean against the counter, watching him cook. His hands move with a precision that mirrors his movements on the tennis court. The knife glides through the vegetables with ease, his focus unwavering. For a moment, you see the athlete in him, the determination and discipline that got him to where he is today. But here, in your kitchen, he's just Jack, the guy you love, trying to make the best of a bad situation.

As the sauce thickens, Jack looks up and catches you staring. He grins, a bit self-consciously. "What?"

You shake your head. "Nothing, just enjoying the view." You mean it. It's a side of him you don't often see, this domesticated version of the fierce competitor who dominates the tennis world.

Jack laughs, a warm sound that fills the room and momentarily drowns out the commentators' chatter from the TV. "You're easily entertained," he teases, his eyes twinkling with good humor.

As he plates the pasta, you can't help but feel a swell of affection. The care he puts into the simple task speaks volumes about his character, the way he tries to make the best of his enforced rest. You take a seat at the table, the TV volume low enough to be background noise rather than a distraction. The smell of the food is mouthwatering, and you realize you're more hungry than you thought.

Jack sets the steaming plates down and sits across from you. He's made an effort to plate the food like a chef, with a sprinkle of parmesan and a basil leaf as garnish. "Cheers," he says, raising his glass of water in a toast. The clink against yours echoes through the kitchen, a small but significant moment between you.

You take a bite, the pasta perfectly al dente, the sauce a symphony of flavors that explode in your mouth. "This is amazing," you murmur, genuinely surprised.

Jack beams. "Told you I had a hidden talent," he says, digging into his own plate. The conversation flows easily as you both savor the meal, sharing stories from your workplace and his recent matches. His laughter is a welcome sound in the quiet house that's usually filled with the echoes of his training and the occasional grunt of frustration.

After lunch, you both clean up the kitchen together, Jack's movements a bit more stiff than usual but still efficient. The rhythm of washing dishes and wiping down counters is oddly soothing. You're reminded of the teamwork you've seen him demonstrate on the tennis court, now playing out in the most domestic of settings.

"What's next on the agenda?" he asks, drying his hands on the dish towel and hanging it up with a flourish.

You look at the clock, realizing it's only early afternoon. "Well, I was going to tackle the laundry," you say, nodding toward the mountain of clothes that's been piling up in the corner of the living room.

Jack's face lights up at the mention of laundry. "Can I help?" he asks, a glint of mischief in his eye. You know he's looking for anything to keep his mind and body active.

You nod, handing him the basket. "Sort the colors, please," you instruct, watching as he starts to sift through the pile, separating the clothes with a newfound enthusiasm.

The living room floor is soon covered in a sea of fabric, and Jack arranges the items into neat piles. His competitive nature even seeps into the mundane task, as if sorting laundry is a game he's determined to win. You chuckle to yourself, folding a shirt with care. The TV in the background is tuned to the tennis match that should have been his, but he doesn't seem to mind as he tosses a sock into the correct pile.

"You know," he says, breaking the comfortable silence, "I've missed this."

You look up from folding your shirt. "Missed what?"

Jack shrugs, his eyes never leaving the pile of clothes in front of him. "Just this, you know? Doing nothing, together." His voice is quiet, a hint of vulnerability seeping through his usual bravado. You realize that behind the excitement of his career and the constant strive for perfection, he's just as human as everyone else, with the same need for connection and simplicity.

You nod in understanding and pick up the pace of your folding, the rhythmic movement of your hands creating a soft, comforting sound. The warmth of the laundry, fresh from the dryer, is a cozy embrace as you work side by side. The sun has shifted in the sky, casting a soft glow through the windows and painting the room in shades of gold and amber.

Jack starts to fold the towels with meticulous care, his fingers pressing the fabric into perfect rectangles with military precision. You can't help but smile at the sight. "You know," he says, glancing up at you, "I've always liked doing this. It's like… a moment of peace."

You nod, understanding all too well. The monotony of chores is a stark contrast to the high-stress world of professional tennis, where every moment is a battle. "It's therapeutic," you agree, folding a t-shirt.

As the laundry pile dwindles, the TV's commentary crescendos with the excitement of a close match. You glance at Jack, expecting to see a hint of envy or disappointment, but his eyes are focused on you. "You know, when I'm out there playing, it's like nothing else exists," he says, his voice contemplative. "But here, with you, it's like the world slows down."

You look back at him, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "That's why I like being here with you," you reply, your voice soft. "It's like the world makes sense again."

Jack sets aside the towel he's folding and takes a step closer. "It does," he says, his voice earnest. "Even when it's all going crazy out there, you keep me grounded."

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "And you keep me on my toes," you reply, smiling.

Jack grins, that familiar spark coming back to his eyes. "Always." He leans in and kisses you gently, his arms wrapping around you as the warmth of his embrace envelops you. The TV is forgotten for a moment, the world outside the windows fading away.

When you pull back, you're both smiling. "Now, let's tackle the rest of this," you say, gesturing to the dwindling laundry pile. The lightness in the air is a stark contrast to the heavy burden of his injury and the tension of his career.

As you fold the last few items, Jack's eyes wander to the bookshelf, where a dusty old board game catches his eye. "Hey, remember this?" he asks, holding up a battered box of Monopoly.

You groan playfully. "How could I forget? You always win."

Jack laughs. "Only because you let me." He opens the box, the sound of plastic and cardboard a throwback to your childhood. The pieces rattle as he sets up the game on the coffee table, his enthusiasm rekindling the fire in your belly. The smell of freshly folded laundry mingles with the faint scent of his deodorant as he moves around the living room.

You sit down across from him, the anticipation of the game already lifting the mood. The TV fades into the background, the tennis match now just a distant buzz as you focus on the colorful properties scattered across the board. Jack's hand hovers over the pieces, finally deciding on the race car. "Classic," you murmur, selecting the top hat with a smirk.

The game starts off casually, the roll of the dice echoing through the room, the pieces clacking as they move along the board. You both laugh at the memories of past games, the endless nights of trash talking and the occasional cheating accusation that always ended in good-natured ribbing. The air is filled with the comforting scent of nostalgia and home.

Jack's competitive streak shines through, his eyes narrowing as he buys up property after property with a grin. You watch him, feeling a strange mix of admiration and amusement. Here he is, a world-renowned athlete, taking this game as seriously as any match. You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you collect your rent.

The afternoon bleeds into evening, the shadows lengthening outside the windows. You've lost track of the time, the hours passing in a blur of dice rolls and property trades. Jack's laughter fills the room when he lands on Free Parking, scooping up a small fortune in Monopoly money. You groan in mock despair, your bank account dwindling as you struggle to keep up with his real estate empire.

The game is a welcome distraction, a reminder of simpler times before the glitz and glamour of his career. You've always loved the way Jack can get so invested in the most mundane activities; his enthusiasm contagious. The tension in his shoulders has eased, his eyes bright with excitement instead of pain.

As the sun sets, casting a warm glow through the living room, the game reaches a tipping point. You both have hotels on the most coveted properties, and the stakes are high. The air is thick with the smell of competition, the only sounds the rolling of dice and the occasional trash talk. You can't remember the last time you felt this alive, this present.

Jack's eyes light up as he lands on your hotel-laden Boardwalk. He counts out the money with exaggerated slowness, dropping it into your hand with a dramatic flourish. "Your majesty," he says, a playful bow in your direction.

You laugh, the sound ringing out in the cozy room. "You're enjoying this a bit too much," you tease, trying to hide the thrill of the game from your own voice.

Jack grins unabashedly. "Can you blame me? It's been forever since we've had the time to do something like this." He rolls the dice again, his eyes lighting up as he lands on Chance. He picks up the card and reads it out loud. "You've been sent to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200…Wait, what?!"

You laugh at his over-the-top dramatics, a sense of ease washing over you as the stress of the day dissipates. "Looks like the game's getting interesting," you say, savoring the moment.

Jack groans good-naturedly, placing his race car in jail with a flourish. "I'll be out in no time," he promises, his eyes gleaming with determination. The game continues, the sound of the dice rolling and the rustle of money a soothing backdrop to the gentle banter that fills the room.

[mediocre-noodle]

THE DALLAS HEADCANONS. which ig are just fun facts:

“coffee or tea?” tea. sweet tea. bc i cant have coffee. gib headache :[ therefore he has to suffer w me

fav color: green probably. tis the color of life.

bites ice cream + popsicles

fav popsicle flavor is red n blue. fav sno cone is tigers blood + blue raspberry + piña colada

yes hes ticklish but he hates it. he laughs but its involuntary amd doesnt mean he likes it. he will start crying. he will kick you, he will bite you, he will shove you—get away from him. he said stop.

dallas LOVES attention. not random attention, like. from friends. like a cat…. exactly like a cat.

affection is iffy. he shows it in a neurodivergent way. he has trouble being around people or being touched soemtimes. he also may feel guilty when people buy him gifts. he loves it sm though. he craves it.

sleep normally 6-10 hrs per night. go to bed very late and wake up in afternoon.

loves celebrating his birthday. however i haven’t given him a canon bday yet. he is a pisces though bc aha i am.

if he ever adopts a pet, its most likely bc he got them from the streets or from a shelter. esp if the shelter was about to euthanize them or there was an old animal no one wanted.

do not ask if he wants alcohol. he is a minor. no he doesnt care that hes TECHNICALLY hundreds of thousands years old. that’s offensive. fuck off. die. (/j)

willing to share earbuds/headphones BUT only w close friends— NOT LENDING!! SHARE-ING!!!! one piece for you and one for him. all is right in the world. (you will listen to his songs. sometimes people have never heard of them bc theyre from years before they were posted)

can he keep a secret? of fucking course. no he totally won’t tell seraphina, pfff—OKAY WELL IT’S NOT LIKE THEY WON’T ALREADY FIND OUT—

know-it-all but not in a I KNOW MORE THAN YOU RAHHHH and “well actually!!”— more of ‘knows so many fucking things and drops facts randomly’

pancakes > waffles. chocolate chip with no syrup or butter.

indecisive. but also decisive. can never chose.

is NOT insecure abt his smile. smiles brightly and w lots of joy. no closed-mouth if hes very happy. no he doesnt care if his teeth may look yellow— bones are supposed to look that way

fucking loves flowers. GIVE THE MAN SOME FLOWRRS.

normally prefers sweet over savory. it differs depending on the day.

loves gardening. HATES dirt under his nails. HATES gloves. the duality of man.

!!!! claustrophobia, fear mazes/labyrinths (or places that seem like ones) (bc of the castle), and then imma project and say storms + tornadoes. not gonna say loud noises bc he isn’t like. irrationally afraid of them. they may trigger him and send him into a panic attack but not a phobia.

worries people bc he doesn’t eat as much as he should. not in an ED way, more as in he only eats if hes bored or craving food. Guides don’t need to eat.

he has a CPR license and does renew it often

list is always growing so wooo!!

HEADCANON TIME!!

i love coffee but tbh dallas is actually real for that. i would do many things for an ice cold sweet tea

green is such a good color

UGH dallas is real for those.. i want kona ice now :/ (have u had kona ice before?)

UGH I HATE TICKLING but im so susceptible… hes just like me fr…..

projecting our sleep schedules onto our original characters i see

happy birthday dallas!! no established birthday means that everyday is his birthday

hhghgh i want to draw dallas with a really old dog now…

LMAOOOO hes a minor at heart… forever…

“dude this songs a banger!! no its not on spotify. yeah it wont be for another 30 years. you should listen to it tho”

he would see a cool bug and name its genus on the spot

he deserves so many good things i want to give him a hug (if he would be ok with it) OUGH

[miusato]

I'm eating up all of your HS hcs its so fun to read! Just wondering since you mentioned about Minako, Shinji and Aki's living condition, I wondered about other's home situation as well. Is everyone doomed by the narrative or at least one will have the privilege of living in a stable family????

Sir, this is a Persona 3 00s American Cartoon inspired High School Alternate Universe. Everyone is doomed by the narrative.

Okay first of all, I'm so glad that you liked my cringe AU enough to read it like again, it's crazy that people actually indulged on whatever I made 😭😭😭😭 thank you for even taking the time to read whatever I wrote in this blog it means the world to me 🥲💗💗 Now back to the topic, like I always say I want them kids to be happy but I also want them to go through unnecessary teen angst and drama and be dead inside instead of...y'know...whatever ahem ANYWAYSS, despite this being an AU, I kinda keep at least some elements from canon like how everyone in the dorm has no healthy relationship with any of their parents (or basically orphans) so I'm afraid that everyone is kinda doomed by the narrative here lol.

Anyway just a summary of how everyone's living condition in this AU:

Kotone: Orphan. Lives with her cool but promiscuous aunt (Elizabeth)

Shinji: Orphan. Lives in a foster home with Ken. Foster parents provides only the bare bare minimum which left him to take various part time jobs just for money.

Aki: Orphan initially but somehow gets adopted by an upper middle class family.

Makoto: Surprisingly alive. Middle class family, supportive parents. Parents tried to be involved but he's in his teenage angst phase lol.

Mitsuru: Both parents alive. I have an idea in mind that both of their parents kind of despise each other and used Mitsuru to get back at each other, although Mitsu's dad is much more doting towards her. Her parents' relationship is complicated.

Yukari: Just like canon. Dad's dead. Mom dates various men just to fill in the empty gap in her heart.

Aigis: Parents alive and try their best to be involved in her life. Hippy nerdy parents, think of it like a Cady Heron situation.

Junpei: Shitty parents, deadbeat dad. Rather stay outside of his house and crash other's couches than bring at home. He doesn't deserve his parents :((

Fuuka: Asian tiger parents omg literally takes piano lesson and attends kumon as a child. They have high expectation towards her.

[theknightmarket]

I did a tier list of the Markiplier Egos, so I thought I’d share it here – and, yes, perhaps some of these ratings indicate who I like to write, sue me. So, bottom to top, here it is:

Actor: Super Hell

         I goddamn hate Actor, as you could probably figure out. He’s a prissy bitch, who deserved everything that came to him. Okay, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but Jesus Christ do I hate him, mainly for causing Damien’s death, plus everything else, but mainly that. He deserves less than Super Hell, but that is the bottom of the barrel.

E-Boy Mark: F

         Reminded me too much of my boy Bing, and I did Not like it. Plus, I have the same tiger pattern on one of my jackets, and I did not want to be associated with this E-Boy. So, F tier.

Ed Edgar: F

         I hate babies. Simple as that. Props for being a cowboy aesthetic, but that mustache knocked him back down into F tier.

Derek Derekson: F

         Need I say anything? He’s abusive and a bitch, and I care too much about my baby Eric to put him any higher. I would put him lower, but Super Hell is reserved for Actor. F.

Silver Shephard: E

         I haven’t seen anything about him, except for the skit with all the other egos, in which I also did not see much. Cool costume, but no clue. E.

Dr. Iplier: E

         Again, not much. To be honest, both of the Egos in the E tier are ones I haven’t seen much of but know about. Hence, the doctor is here. Nice catchphrase, E tier.

Yandereiplier: D

         The animation is cool, I’ve always liked horror-blood elements, and the pictures of Yandere have the red hair, which I am a fan of. However, the game itself is a point down, and he is only for the sim, so D tier.

King of the Squirrels: D

         A classic start to the Ego train, so points given, but points taken away because I am not a huge fan of peanut butter. Squirrels I love, though, so again. Hence, D tier.

Bill: C

         Okay, so I haven’t seen the video he comes from actually, but I did see one clip of him saying ‘Oh, honey, no’ and, boy, did I feel flustered, and I don’t even know why! It was just weirdly sweet and reflects the kinda stuff you see in my S tiered Egos. But, alas, he’s not all that common in videos, so C.

Bim Trimmer: C

         I don’t know either, man, he’s just a funny guy. The image I have for him is so stupid, and he’s Bim Trimmer??? C’mon. C tier.

The Colonel: C

         Being separate from Wilford, he’s kinda lacking in substance compared to him, but I get it. Cuckolded a dude, which isn’t a great start, but it’s Actor, so I don’t care. Says ‘bully’, which is fun, but he does kill the viewer, so points off for him, putting him in C.

Google(s): C

         Might be influenced by my having a fic in the works for him, but I am also a sucker for AI, android stuff. Plus, the fanart I see for him is always cute. Him being rude to Bing takes him down a notch, though, so C.

Heehoo: C

         The concept of this guy is so funny to me – like, Jesus Christ, the Markiplier runs into the wild, completely naked, save for maybe shoes, of all things, and is fine??? The long hair pushes it over D, but the lack of a voice keeps him in C.

The Nightguard: C

         It’s mainly for the musical itself, and that one moment when he leans in and says ‘I killed a guy’ because obviously. Not to mention it’s Mark singing. However, this one can be excluded from being an ego because it is basing off of a pre-established character. So, C tier.

Captain Magnum: C

         I haven’t gone through his ending yet in AHWM (sue me, I got Yancy first), but I do love pirates ;) but I don’t love beards. Personal preference, it just takes away from the face. Basically, the aesthetic alone brings it into C tier.

Annus: B

         Now, I did watch, uh, [redacted] – catch my favorite video being the A.I generated basically fanfictions – and I loved the whole concept of it! The ending, especially during covid, kinda helped me get used to death and the idea of having to die in the end. However, some of this does not extend to the ego of Annus. I feel like there was a lot more they could have done with both Annus and Unus, but I understand that most of the audience would not have wanted it to be fully cryptid and ARG-esque, so B is both the lowest and highest I can go with him. I do love suits, though. 

Eric Derekson: B

         I have seen next to nothing about this boy! And I love him :D! He’s just so cute in everything I’ve seen and read. Solid B tier for the cute side, anyway. 

The Jims: B

         Honestly, it’s a goof ego, and I like that. The stupid movements and the little side bit about WKM made me happy after the sad events, and I saw them in Space, so I’m happy to put them at B, as a collective, of course.

Monster Gulch Mark: B

         I’m a sucker for apocalypses, man. The casual murder plot caught my eye, and then the second song was a banger, too. I was super disappointed when nothing ever came out from Monster Gulch again, and I appreciate the running water thing, if you know what I mean by that. So, for both Mark in this and the musical in general, B tier.

God of Night: B

         Dope aesthetic and I am a sucker for deity-stuff. However, I do not have the attention span to watch a 3+ hour video where he is not in all of it, and was, maybe, recorded without a hard script? I don’t know, but I know I should watch it considering I have a fic queued for him. Cool concept, but I can’t watch so much of that in one go. B tier.

Noir: A

         You remember that I said I love suits, right? Well, this guy, in a disheveled suit, the noir aesthetic – one that I loved since I saw Into the Spider-Verse – and the voice over??? A tier, and I will take no comments. Also, there’s something to be said about how the lower tiers tend to have the cocky-know-it-all egos, and the higher tiers are soft guys. This, the A tier, is a weird exception.

Murdock: A

         No. 1, the murder – no. 2, the vibe – no. 3, the outfit! The moment I saw Murdock, I had to put the screen down and go for a walk. You’ve seen this man, you understand what I mean. A tier, for everything he’s involved in.

Dark: A

         This is probably lower than a lot of people would put him, and I’m still debating putting him higher, but A tier is the least I will go. Again, there’s the suit, plus, I’m a fan of the glitchy, multi-emotion thing he has going on. However, as many of you will remember, he did shove the viewer into a mirror and steal their body. Not great on his part, but he is against Actor, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Hence, A tier, plus he does stage himself sexily on that desk, so…

Engineer: A

         This guy is plain cute. He’s devoted, he’s hard-working, he appreciates the aesthetics! He really should be in A+ tier, considering I have a sticker of him, too, except for one tiny snag. Actor. He is the source of all my trouble and complicates things in the theory sense. Is Engineer actually Actor? We don’t know, and I don’t like to think I would put anyone related to Actor in A+. So, sorry, my dear boy, he has to be in A tier.

Bing: A+

         If you’ve seen my other posts, you may already understand why he’s here, but I will reiterate for every who doesn’t know. I don’t know what it is, but the dumb, skateboarder-bro, with a heart of gold is a thing I love. The glasses are cool, the orange I adore, and an android? C’mon, I can’t put him anywhere but A+. (I also have a sticker of him on the laptop I am currently writing this on)

Host: A+

         I had to go searching for Host after the sketch with all of the egos in it, and, boy, was I overjoyed to find him. The blind-fold and narrator bit, and a couple of fics I’ve read influenced this decision. A+ tier, but it’s a controversial one. (Another that I have a sticker of)

Wilford: A+

         Yeah, this is just where he belongs. S tier is reserved for two egos here, and so Wilford is a banger in A+ tier. The whole fruity-bisexual-timelord thing is amazing, and, as far as character design goes, oof, the fluffy hair, slightly unbuttoned shirt? I am swooning. A+ tier. (Also, a sticker)

Illinois: A+

         This guy has two belts. What a dude. And the flirty thing I appreciate, the whip cracks, as well. Him walking backwards through a bunch of traps is pique douche, but in an oh-my-god-he’s-going-to-get-himself-killed-better-help-him kind of way. Like pulling a drowning dog out of a pool and them shaking off. A+.

Can you guys guess who’s at the top of this list? If you can’t, lemme tell you. 

Damien: S

         Damien is my comfort character, and that sucks because – spoilers – he is dead. I forgive him for shoving the viewer into a mirror, solely for his adorable personality and all of the fics people have for him prior to poker night. The ‘little monster’ nickname has me squealing every time I hear it, and I could fully write an essay on his character. Fuck Actor for killing him, and fuck anyone who doesn’t think he’s amazing. Solid S tier, no questions. 

Yancy: S

         Objectively the best character. He was my first ending in AHWM, I love his song, he applied for parole??? Look at that man, listen to him talk – the accent omg – and tell me, genuinely, that you would not do anything for him. Look me in the eyes and tell me that he isn’t the light of your life. ‘Free as a buird’ – gods, he’s adorable, and a sticker that I have on the inside of my laptop, to boot!

And that’s it! Feel free to reblog or send me an ask telling me your opinion, but know that I will fight you if you disagree on my S tiers :D

Have a good day everyone!

[lovelyluna9001]

16. Jumbo Tsuruta (c) vs. Mitsuharu Misawa (18.04.1991)

A step up to the defences for the last while. Misawa brings a great energy to this match, his high flying is a great new aspect to one of these defences. The dynamic of the young up-comer, trying to stay ahead, while Jumbo uses his veteran prowace to keep his titles, and gets a great reaction for it. ****¼.

17. Jumbo Tsuruta (c) vs. Steve Williams (20.07.1991)

Pretty good. Slow going, but enjoyable enough. The big power moves is as the most enjoyable part for me. The injury to Williams did hurt the match though. ***½

18. Jumbo Tsuruta (c) vs. Toshiaki Kawada (24.10.1991)

A really good match, Kawada's first Triple Crown Championship match, interesting to see him as an underdog face than the top heel, or ace of the promotion, still, he does still work well in the role. A really good King's Road match, being very sympathetic in his role, while Tsuruta is great at being the old angry ace. ****

19. Jumbo Tsuruta (c) vs. Stan Hansen (28.01.1992)

A fairly good defence, some nice big moves, another pretty good one, but nothing special. Pretty good, though I am getting bored of this match, and its not improving. ***½

20. Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Stan Hansen (c) (04.03.1992)

Better then the previous few matches in the Triple Crown's history, but not by too much. Misawa brings much needed energy into these matches - still bridging his more energetic Tiger Mask II days to his current persona and this progression is cool to see. There is a lot more high flying and attempts to go after Hansen in this. Hansen is pretty good, is offence looked great, and the crowd made a difference. But, these two have limited chemistry. ***¾

21. Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Stan Hansen (17.04.1992) (CC)

Okay, but I am sick of seeing Stan Hansen in Triple Crown Title matches, or in Champion Carnival finals. His work is rarely too bad, but always similar, to varying degrees of success, with this being slightly better than average. Again these two don't really work together, especially as Misawa gets more into the typical heavyweight style, one would guess him going into a harder hitting style would be better for these two, but really it just makes it less interesting. ***

22. Stan Hansen (c) vs. Toshiaki Kawada (05.06.1992)

This is a massive upgrade to the last few Triple Crown and CC final matches. Stan Hansen proves he still has it in this match, his stuff actually looks good in this. Kawada looked great, he really brings it, hes quite aggressive, but his inexperience keeps him from winning. Despite Kawada never having a chance, the hope spots are great, young Kawada is really good as a rough underdog youth. **** 1/4

23. Akira Taue vs. Stan Hansen (c) (31.07.1992)

Alright, I think Taue is great, and deserves more respect, and I know by this point he was good (his match with Kawada on 15/01/1991 was better then a large majority of the matches I have reviewed so far). However, the match doesn't reflect that, and is rather dull and even botchy, luckily it is realtively short for a Triple Crown defence. ***

24. Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Stan Hansen (c) (22.08.1992)

Better then some of their other matches. But that is largely down to the crowd, this were servicable, and it is cool to see Misawa finally become the champion, and show that his Super Generation Army can succeed, when Taue and Kawada failed. So historically interesting, and adds to the storyline, on the other hand, this translates to an interesting title win from a weak match. There is still some young fire in Misawa that adds to the story and match, but not enough really. ***1/4

25. Mitsuharu Misawa (c) vs. Toshiaki Kawada (21.10.1992)

Quite good, a lot more fun then previous Triple Crown Championship matches (especially during the Hansen reigns). These two are friends and tag team partners in Super Generation Army, so that makes for a cool story, as you can tell Kawada is a bit jealous but not ready to go against Misawa, and depends on the team for his success - being tag champs earlier and later in the reign, which is on par with the Triple Crown. Outside of the storyline, the actual wrestling is pretty good, espcially the end, but it was nothing special in my opinion, they showed chemistry, but I am guessing they need some experience to get to the highs everyone says they get to. ***¾

26. Akira Taue vs. Mitsuharu Misawa (c) (28.02.1993)

Quite an exciting match. Despite there being little tension over the result (in retrospect especially, but likely at the time as well). Taue performed well here, he dominated Misawa for a bit, but eventually Misawa over came the giant and retained, I slightly prefered this to the Kawada match, which was a bit surprising, but welcome, even if the story is slightly less interesting then the previous defence - it still was great. Taue split from SGA (Super Generation Army) to join Tsuruta, to learn from him, and an upgrade in postioning. and was tag champs with Tsuruta going into Real World Tag League 1992, but lost to Kawada & Misawa in the finals - also losing the titles, so he was looking to get revenge, and be the top guy, but was not ready, and would not be for a while. ***¾

27. Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Stan Hansen (21.04.1993) (CC)

This took too long to get going, and I am so damn sick of this feud, easily the most Hansen is easily is the most fustrating performer in All Japan in my watch since I know he can do better, and has done better, but is generally the worst performer in the series. But this was better then the usual offering between and helped by a great crowd. Some really like it though so check it out, just not after having a series watch like me, becuase then you will care a fuck ton less. ***¾

28. Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Stan Hansen (21.05.1993)

Fucking hell, this again. I know the All Japan roster is not deep at this point, and they slowly built up the pillars, but still, give a junior a challenge - like the Can-Am, or Masanobu Fuchi (not after the CC as they would have to win that, but mix it around still). Started pretty good, got dull in the middle, picked a bit at the end, same as usual. *** (would be higher if I wasn't bored to tears of these two wrestling all time - tho maybe not lol)

29. Mitsuharu Misawa (c) vs. Toshiaki Kawada (29.07.1993)

By this point Kawada headed the Holy Demon Army and became a top heel since Jumbo Tsuruta is basically done now. This was quite good throughout and the ending half did take it up a level, but I just did not feel it too much. The big moves were done well, but I have seen them be done better too. Plus the arm work did not lead to much. ***3/4

30. Mitsuharu Misawa (c) vs. Steve Williams (03.09.1993)

Only just four stars for me, its partially because I am feeling generous. The start was fine and while the ending was not super hot, so i thought the crowd was kinda poor - a fairly weak reaction for the huge powerslam which was a really cool spot. Everything looked better executed then usual, I really liked one of Misawa's elbows more then usual as well, so a good performance all round. ****

31. Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Stan Hansen (23.10.1993)

This match sucks, I was bored of these two before, but this another level horrible. Just dull, a few nice strikes that you will always get from these two but not much. luckly the crowd got a classic before this match, they would be better of just leaving after the semi main. Surprisingly most seem to agree with me, and I would not be surprised if it was the lowest rated Triple Crown Title match. *

[emisirrelevant]

WE ARE THE TIGERS/WATT WEEK DAY 4

HAPPY WATT WEEK DAY 4!!!

Today’s prompt is: Pom poms up

Continuing with my contributions for the week, as this is a lyric from Shut Up and Cheer, I will give my song commentary and analysis of it.

The fact I have been in Eva’s place before actually (minus the people dying, but the drama, OH GOD. Yes, I can confirm even SWIM TEAM can have drama. And not the drama in the musical theater way)

•”In a room full of people who have clearly mad bad choices, I may be the stupidest one here”

•Now WOAH WOAH WOAH. There’s so much to say here.

•FIRST, I LOVE THIS LINE. What a BANGER opening line

•PRESTON MAX ALLEN KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING COMING UP WITH THIS OKAY?

•It says a LOT in one line

•effective ways to start a song: be Eva in WATT

•Also just Sydney Parra. That’s all.

•Finally, I just realized could this lyric still technically work if you swapped “people” and “choices”?

•“in a room full of choices who have clearly made bad people” idk ��

•”Cause having heard the stories, and knowing all the drama” Eva my beloved come here I will give you all the hugs

•”I still said I’d join the murder squad this year” Omg an alternative title for WATT? “Murder Squad the Musical”

•and technically if we’re getting logical Riley is the main agent because Reese k wording Clark was an accident but yeah okay anyway

•”I swore that lightning won’t strike twice, and surely this is all under control” oh honey- YOU GOT A BIG STORM COMING

•”This school costs more than I can say, they straight up comped me 60k” HONEY THAT SHOULD’VE BEEN THE WARNING SIGN/FIRST RED FLAG

•”but also I’m afraid I sold my soul” Never would I have thought to comment here and make a connection to Faust but curse that one college course that made me read Faust- I have a feeling Eva would hate Goethe too

•”So I can say no this shit is insane” THE WAY SHE ADDS A BIT OF A GROWL ON “SHIT”

•”Or I can keep my cool and stay in my lane” ME when there was drama on my swim team and I was not living for it and just trying to live my own life

ARE WE READY FOR THE NEXT PART??

AH HERE IT COMES

AND PUT MY POM POMS UP, OH I RA RA RAH AND DISAPPEAR, SHUT UP AND CHEER

•“They won’t even know that I am here” In other situations I would say oof Eva deserves to shine for sure, I mean yeah she only gets like this song but yeah I understand she was the new girl so she only just got there but it makes sense to me and I’m glad Preston put in in the album because it gives us HER perspective like “do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on inside their head” also maybe it’s a good thing Eva was masking because imagine if Riley went after her next

•”I have worked so hard for so much less” OOOOOOOH TOO RELATABLE, RELATABLE LINE ONCE AGAIN

•”I think maybe every high school is a mess” Eva you couldn’t be more real in this song I swear

•”you want a little structure, you just want a smaller class size, and somehow you have ended up in hell” can also confirm

•”if everyone seems crazy maybe I’m the one who’s crazy” Eva is just so real

•also quick psa, on a musical side note, I LOVE THE PIANO MELODY/RYTHYM IN THIS SONG!!

•”and all of them are doing really well” girl you’re probably the most stable one here tbh

•”or see these goddamn girls won’t get in my way” I kind love how she sings this line, tbh part of me feels like she’s letting some inner Riley out

•“shut up and cheer and back awaaaaaAAAAAaaaAay” YES EVA SING

•”complicated god I know it, I’m afraid but I won’t show it” also a mood

•”I can pray that they’ll outgrow it” Well thank god most of them did (rip we��ll never know about Chess and Farrah if they lived tho)

•”take a chance and make it through the year” LOVE how the instrumental builds up through this section

•”get in the clear” I’m sensing the double meaning here

•”And say that life’s not fair, oh I’ve so been there” who hasn’t tbh

•“Shut up and cheer ready ok”

EVA MY BELOVED. My favorite real icon and to think it started from just delivering pizza. This whole song is just one giant mood. I love it.

[taiblogcomics]

No One’s Red Raven About Her Disappearance, I Bet

Hey there, opinionated smoke detectors. Well, we're back in the pit. We got the final six issues of Avengers Arena to get through, so we might as well get started, yes?

Here's the cover:

Okay, this is my favourite cover of the whole series. I don't need to see the next five or remember the previous 12 (most of which were movie ripoffs anyway). This one wins. If you ain't read Runaways--well, first of all, go read at least the first volume (#1-18) of Runaways, it's my favourite comic of all time and you're missing out--but also, Molly Hayes is one of Nico and Chase's fellow Runaways. The youngest of the team and a genuine sweet kid. So of course she would make this poster. And secondly, the two implications here: A) someone in the outside world has finally noticed 16 superhero kids have gone missing, and 2) enough people care to take Molly's... hashtag, I guess?

So we open with Arcade with his stringy red hair and goofy white tuxedo, which is never a good way to start a comic. He's in a good mood, which is also never a good way to start. He's strutting around, preeening and plotting about what his next way to escalate his stupid teenage death game will be. Meanwhile, his robot secretary is repeatedly trying to get his attention for something important. He's as douchey a boss as he is a supervillain, though, so he keeps ignoring her until she yells, and he asks what's so important to interrupt his being-a-douche time.

That's when Giant Man, Thor, Wolverine, Captain Britain, and the Hulk bust through his ceiling~

Alas, the comic is not about to get cool and give him a comeuppance he richly deserves. No, it's all holograms Robot Secretary has conjured up. He concedes, and listens to her, though he's still snotty about it. "I gave you every possible detail, what could you possibly have to bother me with?" And what she needs is for him to authorise a particular "trump card". See, someone's finally noticed the kids are missing (Arcade, in his infinite douchiness, is like "Already? My family didn't notice I went missing for months.") and it's the worst possible person. It's not a parent or teacher or spurned lover. It's Molly Hayes~

And indeed, our dear Molly is confronting Giant Man (Hank Pym, in case you weren't sure) at Avengers Academy over the fact that he promised they'd be safe. But she hasn't seen Nico or Chase in weeks, and that means bad guys stole them. Kid's fucking sharp, you see why she's my favourite? Karolina Dean and Julie Power (AKA Lightspeed of the former Power Pack) apologise to Hank, figuring Nico and Chase just ran off to do horny teenage things. Molly's still throwing a fit, though, and she pounds the ground hard enough to break it.

Karolina and Julie pull her off, continuing to apologise. See, Old Lace, the velociraptor Chase has a psychic bond with (seriously, read Runaways), is moping about and won't even eat. They figure if he was in actual danger, she'd be all on alert, but she clearly just misses him. Even so, Hank promises to try and look into it for the kids, and Molly gives him a kiss on the cheek as thanks, because she's a sweetie. As they're leaving, he asks when Nico and Chase went missing, and that's when the other shoe drops: it was three weeks ago, right after Christmas.

As Hank is next seen explaining to Tigra, sure, two teens running off, that wouldn't be so unusual. But the fact that they disappeared the same day several of their own Academy students (Mettle, Hazmat, Reptil, possibly X-23 and Juston as well) went off the radar, well... that's a bit suspicious, isn't it? Now, Mettle and Hazmat were 1) a couple, and B) not supported as such by Hazmat's parents, so they didn't think too much of it at the time. And they're also graduates of the Academy, not like they just left their rooms. But still, Hank wants to ask around to some of their friends.

There's a few cameos here. On the Academy grounds alone, he talks with students Finesse and White Tiger. The former, she drifted apart from both X-23 and Reptil, since she has difficulty with emotional closeness, and doesn't know where they are. White Tiger, meanwhile, also knew Reptil, but when he got focused on finding his parents, she gave him his space. She'd want the same if she got any leads on her own parents' deaths, after all. Likewise, some calls, and Wolverine reports none of his kids are missing (if anything, he wishes a few would, give him a moment's peace). He heard something from Captain Britain, though...

Indeed, the Braddock Academy also has a few students gone walkabout, but since they're the usual delinquents, he didn't think much of it. It isn't even the first time this particular group has left school grounds, they usually turn up on social media after a few days. He helpfully forwards a pic of Anachronism cupping the breasts on the Venus de Milo as an example. Captain Britain asks Hank if his campus has any security footage, and they do, of course. But Hazmat knocked it out before she left, and they haven't gotten it back yet. In fact, the only person who could get it up faster... is Juston Seyfert.

They call up Juston's father, who is now kind of incensed with them. He withdrew Juston from the academy for safety concerns (since Juston's only power was "owns a giant robot"), and doesn't want anything to do with them now. They just want to check, since several of their own students went missing, and Mr. Seyfert replies that Juston is fine, he's out playing with his brother right now. And we cut to a POV shot of Juston's brother, Chris, and it's clear that the POV is from a Life-Model Decoy. That is to say, a robot duplicate that looks human.

So Hank takes it to the top: SHIELD. He talks with Maria Hill about teleportation tech, and she shows him a map where teleportation signatures go off across the planet, including a signature from around Chase and Nico's place. However, she won't give more detailed info, because it's highly classified. She does give him one piece of info, though: a girl with Deathlok tech disappeared right around the same time. But she's accounted that one as a time travel thing, so it's not important to their investigation. ...Right?

So Hank's a bit stuck. He's got at least a dozen kids missing, no leads. (As far as he knows, Juston's accounted for, and Cammi, Red Raven, and Darkhawk aren't brought up at all.) He can't put the pieces together, there's no real connection, especially when places like the Jean Grey School and the Wakanda Academy haven't been hit. He's fretting himself sick, and Tigra and his other colleagues are beginning to get worried. And that's when Finesse comes in with a phone call for him. It's Mettle, asking to meet.

They figure obviously this might be a trap. But then Mettle pulls up at their designated meeting spot (which he picked, of course), and explains he did, in fact, elope with Hazmat (who of course didn't feel safe enough to come along) and he's lying low because her parents filed kidnapping charges. Hank runs a scan, confirming that Mettle's DNA, retinas, and voice all match, so he's not a Skrull (and Hank would know, having spent several months replaced by one back in Secret Invasion). But Mettle's iridium body is just too dense to run a deeper scan out in the open. Well, isn't that convenient~?

Mettle says he's glad they're missed, at least, and peels off again. Hank accepts that maybe he and Molly just have difficulty accepting change. And the whole time, Arcade is watching from his creepy little basement lair, gloating at how thoroughly he's tricked them. The fake Mettle was the previously discussed trump card, since his already metal skin hides the cybernetics well. And all of this means he'll prove himself a great villain and get respect, everyone will line up to suck his dick, blah blah blah. The issue ends with him being smug, and isn't that just a great way to come back to this series~?

While I do dislike this issue because it’s just more of Arcade being a smug smuggy-smug who has all the powers and is Teh Very Best Evar, I also really like it for the parts that aren’t that. Hank Pym may not be perfect or, like, anyone’s favourite hero. But here he is, moving heaven and earth to find a lead to track down these missing kids. And that, I certainly appreciate. i get the feeling that, despite being smug and douchey, Arcade didn’t cover his tracks as well as he thinks and this is all gonna come crashing back on him later. I can at least hope that’s the case~

Also, seriously, one last time: go read Runaways. Even the weaker arcs in later volumes are still better than this dreck~

[salthien]

hey.tell me about seblandry

okay. alright. hello hi i care about them a lot. this is going under a readmore because i'm about to get super fucking rambly

first i wanna say even though these two literally occupy my thoughts more often than they don't, it was cedar and fable who have pioneered this ship and i am simply someone who tripped and fell ass deep into it. a lot of this was first established by them and this is just kind of my take on it. also note my embarrassment is purely because of their status as like… Well Established Characters in popular fanon and that's all. i am simply shy

so this kind of all hinges on s3 (and also kind of on landry having his own form outside the jacket, in case "literally only present while inhabiting someone during a game" is still as common a hc as it used to be?). jess gets stolen by the Tigers at the end of s2 and, seb being seb, is of course going to help jess move from philly to hades. they've seen each other around (steaks and tigers have played at least one series by this point) but they haven't really interacted.

jess is settling in, seb is tagging along because he has time to spare before next season - to quote cedar, seb uses this time as "oh, time to flirt with someone who i have heard of and think is cool". landry is thrown by this a little bit if only because he's not used to that sort of attention from people (even attention from Hadeans errs less on the side of "wow he's handsome" and more on the side of general veneration/respect for one of Hades' guardian spirits). but seb is sweet and earnest (if a little mischievous) so landry gets very catlike about it. gets close/touchy but isn't really a natural flirt. bonus: jess fucking hates this the whole time. she doesn't know what's worse: him blatantly flirting with her new teammate or landry actually being into it. she hates that they are making her perceive this. that's about as far as it gets pre-season imo but i'm not 100% married to that idea either

s3 starts and the tigers & steaks only have one series together, days 16 17 and 18 out in dallas. seblandry kind of gravitate back together, seb invites landry over after a game (i like to put this after the first game) and this is where it kind of catalyzes/solidifies enough that they're both like. okay so there's something here. it's kind of casual but it's also easy and comfortable enough that it's easy to go 'oops feelings keep happening' - seb doesn't have any of the expectations of landry that someone from hades might, and imo (informed a LOT by cedar's characterization of him) landry is the kind of person that has spent a very long time learning and connecting with people, and seb appreciates having that same close attention paid to him. theyre both very caring people at heart. this is the crux of it.

they spend the rest of the season making excuses to see one another when they can. once the steaks are eliminated from the postseason seb goes to all the tigers games. and then landry explodes :) and seb has to deal with the emotional fallout :)

more thoughts, somewhat less expanded upon post-seb alting at the end of s4. altseb did not have this thing w/landry because he doesn't have the same closeness with jess that led him to go to hades in the first place. landry finds him in the hall when he dies and it Hurts when seb doesn't recognize him. imo seb does not do well mentally in the hall, at least between s7 and s10 (and for awhile after) and landry like - tries to help him, not in a "if i do this you will care about me again" way and completely in a "no one here deserves to suffer, and you are one of the ones i feel like i can maybe help" way. altseb sort of accepts it but it's. tense? it's not romantic. it's landry trying to help keep him from drowning and altseb getting more and more frustrated by the circumstances of the trench/the hall as a whole. altseb thru s10 gets more and more antsy up until day 10/X, he tackles an ump and gets incinerated again, etc etc. so now they've both watched the other die even if one was technically an alternate. from here on it gets even more nebulous and i am also much more familiar with discipline than expansion so. i don't have a lot for in there

but, because i am like a dog with a bone and cannot let this go, i have thoughts about memories and the Alternate and what the black hole does to realities and what it might do specifically to fanloreweird outliers like the phones (this would take another several hundred words. oops) and what life was like while trapped in the black hole. & for the new era i need to see what they're going to do with the currently-dead players, if anything, or if the black hole is just going to exist in perpetuity, before i solidify anything there. but i want seb to remember things and i want them to reunite properly and if i see my chance in the new era i will grab it with both hands and not let go. i may also eventually consider the branching path of 'let's pretend alternation doesn't exist' for some fun hall stuff in the future.

[plugs this into a word counter] yup. that sure is almost a thousand words about them. also this doesn't preclude my interest in other ships for them because i do like multishipping, they are just the one i've grown the most attached to

[tomanyships69]

911 1x08 Karma's A Bitch

Rosalee??? (Monroe would never treat her like this) The wife played a different character on Grimm for those who don't know.

Should have shot him, I mean I guess she technically did, but that abusive dude should have been dead sooner.

(People should respect bodily autonomy and not force or guilt trip people into doing things they aren't comfortable with aka the blood drive.) But also if anyone should respect trying to even things out it's Bobby.

God I understand they are both in a tough spot. He wants to live his best life and introduce his family to the man he's getting close to. But he should also respect his WIFE'S feelings and know that her and the kids might need some more time to adjust.

God the skin coming off his chest is so gross (better than his chest shattering tho, seen the clip haven't watched that show yet)

This dude did not kill his dog, jesus christ!

She has the right idea, and saved the dog from a douche owner.

Bobby is at church again, they have extras this time woo! But also calm down you probably aren't dying Bobby.

Cool a thief, what's in the box? Never mind broken bone.

Chimney being there for Bobby aww!

He's got magic blood and can save all the babies lives now ain't that ironic.

More people terrorising animals. Be a good kitty and maul him. He attacked the wrong guy.

Now he's also a shitty poacher and worse a dentist. FREE THE TIGER they did nothing wrong.

Athena's kids are standing on business, damn!

Nooo Chimney is getting the Bobby trauma dump. Bobby go to therapy please! Why is the entire firehouse traumatized.

God this scene is hard for me to watch, and Chimney doesn't know what to say or do.

I still can't believe she cheated smh.

God I feel so bad for her but Athena is doing the right thing. (Side note, she has a really nice house).

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

I HATE EVA, I said she was the worst and keeps on proving my point. As for Hen I don't have any sympathy. Karen deserves better.

Damn okay Athena, chatting it up with Mr. smooth.

I love Chim, he deserves nothing but happiness.

Maybe I'm just soft but this episode hurt my soul.

Had to make an edit, just now realized Buck was barely in this episode. Also no Abby at all.

[carolmunson]

let's go girls:

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning. 

my favorite unaware queen. yes, make plans at my shitty ex bfs house who i hate. thank you so much.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is. “Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

my favorite codependent idiot duo, truly my own true pairing. i will always love them.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

eddie's off? more like i'm getting eddie off.

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.” The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault. “I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.” Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen.  “Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”  She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

the way i just wanted to fight reader. who am i, steve?! don't bring up vickie! my princess is fragile!

The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

OH FUCK OFF LEIGHANNE.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

i wanna kiss him so bad, actually :(

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

i just choked

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

i am concerned about robin's drinking.

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

i need him biblically.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

i will break the tension, with a hand job.

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.” A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night. 

ugh i love them. i love their friendship. they are truly my faves.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk.  He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb. “I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?” It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

can't wait to FUCK HIM! excited to HAVE SEX!

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

Eddie warned Robin that a game of never have I ever was a bad idea, and you should know better than to go snooping where you don’t belong.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking (hey it’s a summer time barbecue in the midwest), you thought there was a lot tension the last chapter? baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet. jealousy, spicy things are revealed about all of them during a drinking game.

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

One entire week without even so much of a glimpse of that permanently messy head of hair, and god, you hated how much it bothered you. Ears perking up every time you’d catch the cadence of his voice through the receiver of Robin’s cordless phone the few times he called her to check in. Like an unwanted guest who wasn’t taking the hint, his broad shoulders and full pink lips that somehow always look like they need to be kissed haunt your unsuspecting dreams at night. 

You hate it, you hate him, and you try not to spiral about why it feels like the opposite.

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning. 

“What?” You snap, tearing your eyes from the slow pour of the coffee maker in front of you, grouchy and wound up from a dream about his big hands pulling your legs apart so perfect white teeth could nip at the inside of your thighs.

“Steve, you know that guy you told me you’d try and be nice to. The one who’s fixing your car?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she scoops up another bite, “We’re going to his house.”

Of course.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is.

“Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

“I’m keeping you hostage?!” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, turning your back to finally pour yourself the cup of coffee you’ve waited so patiently for. “He’s the best friend stealer.”

“I’m not going to lie, I think I like you two fighting over me,” she laughs, looking a little too smug for your liking as she brings her empty bowl to the sink, Garfield slippers scuffling across the tile, too lazy to pick up her feet from the floor.

“Yeah, 'cause you’re sick.” A real smile curls up into your cup, inhaling the rich scent into your nose. “What are your plans to torture me with his presence this time?” 

Robin narrows her stare at you in a silent warning, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, orange cat covered feet dangling freely as you meet her gaze with softened eyes in a silent apology.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

Choking on your coffee, you sputter your sip back into your mug, turning her freckled face sour.

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you know you’re skating on thin ice, but all the built up tension that tightens your muscles, and buzzes incessantly at your fingertips makes everything feel impossible to control.

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.” 

“That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -”

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.”

The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

“I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.”

Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

She holds your stare until she can tell you actually mean it, melting glaciers with a heavy sigh. 

“It’s fine, I get it.” 

Her words come out soft, just like the lines that smooth on her face.

“I know this is weird and like totally against friend code or whatever, but I think that just goes to show how much he must mean to me or even a testament to how much he’s changed if I’m even asking you to just try and do this. Just try, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” you fluster, doing your best to reassure her in a shaky voice, “I just slept badly and had a really weird dream. It just threw me off a little. I’m being so awful and I’m sorry.” 

Flashes of the way his hands gripped your hips and the dirty things he whispered in your ear has your palms start to sweat, making you loosen your grip on her arm before she can notice. 

Robin searches your face for the reassurance that she needs before a small smile finally tugs at the corners of her lips.“This is why you’re my best friend.” She pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Only if you tell him that.” 

Snaking your arms around her waist, you let out a shaky laugh, silently preparing to see the man who hasn’t left the crevices of your mind since you stepped foot back in Hawkins.

———

It feels like you’re back in high school the way you can’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror, the nerves still feel the same.

Your gaze wanders up and down your reflection, turning from side to side, overly critical eyes take in your curves that are on display a little more than normal and you wonder if Robin will notice. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, better yet you wonder if Robin will notice and have something to say about it. 

“You’re certainly spending a lot of time on an outfit.” Your best friend whistles low as she leans against the open bedroom door confirming your fears with a cross of her arms.

“Just trying to remember what I brought is all.” You don’t engage with the amusement that hides in her tone, smoothing down the short black skirt that flares over the tops of your thighs, before adjusting the straps on your matching tank top.

“Riiiight,” she snorts, earning the kind of glare that has her raising her hands in defense before a shit-eating grin cracks wide across her face. “I’m going to need you to hurry up, though. Do I need to remind you that we’re walking?”

“I’m done!” You huff, sock covered feet digging into her cream carpet as you make your way toward her, “I just need to put on my shoes.”

“You’ve got twenty secon-” she agonizes before three hard knocks on her front door cut her off. Her cheshire smile falters as she turns confused.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get to finish that sentence,” you warn in a harsh whisper, grabbing your Converse that had been haphazardly kicked off earlier in the corner. 

Robin puts a ringed finger to her lips, like the possibility of a kidnapper being on the other side is extremely probable, and it’s her turn to glare when you roll your eyes at her dramatics. Following her out to the living room, you plop down on the couch, watching her slowly creep to the front door. Both her hands find the blue painted wood pushing up on the toes of her Reeboks to look out the peephole.

“Steve?!” 

The name makes your stomach flip, a shaky breath pushing its way through watermelon flavored lips because you thought you had more time than this. Keeping a poker face, you take your time tying your laces as she swings the door open. Head down, your eyes keep their focus on how the dirty white strings move between your fingers. 

You’re not ready to look at him. Not yet.

“After taking you to school at 7am every day after I graduated, you really thought I was going to let you walk?” The smile in his voice is evident, a fond memory you’re not a part of but you can still feel the warmth inside it by the way he speaks. 

“Thank god,” she starts, the insinuation of the words that are going to follow making your eyes snap up, narrowed and shooting daggers at your best friend, catching Steve’s attention in the process. 

“We were going to be late.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his gaze claiming yours and holding it against your will, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his full lips and suddenly it’s so much warmer in her living room than it was two seconds ago. “Why’s that?”

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

“She’s just being dramatic,” you grumble, finally tearing your eyes from the dark moss that covers the chocolate inside his, doing your best to ignore the heat of them wandering the bare skin of your legs as you finish tying your shoes.

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!” 

This is the moment that you decide you’re going to kill Robin in her sleep tonight.

“Well, I’m ready so you both can stop being annoying now.” Standing, you tug down the bottom of your skirt that suddenly feels even shorter with his full attention on you like this.

“Wait, why am I annoying? I just got here.” Steve argues when your words finally sink in, snapping him out of his daze, catching the keys in his palm. 

“You’re always annoying, Harrington,” you sigh, hoping your deflections are working, but the small smile that never leaves his lips tells you it’s not.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls out like it’s something you would have argued over. Your shoulder brushes with his as you push your way out the door, sending sparks to the tips of your fingers and making your hair stand on end. Steve and the summer heat warm your skin. 

“It’s all yours,” you concede with ease, ignoring the butterfly wings that wreak havoc in your rib cage when the spice of his cologne makes its way into your nose.

It was going to be a night.

Steve keeps the windows rolled down, the muggy air making your bare thighs stick together and to the hot leather of his backseat. It drowns out the music as he speeds down the back roads, making the conversation between him and Robin upfront almost inaudible.

You don’t worry about what they might be saying, not even when they both start gesturing wildly with their hands. Taking advantage of the time left alone, you put all of your focus into preparing yourself for the next few hours, doing your best to push the lingering thoughts of your dream deep down to a place that no one can find. A task that proves to be much harder while avoiding his gaze that dares you to meet it in the rear view mirror the entire way. 

The memories you have of the back of his car don’t help either.

Pulling into Forest Hills trailer park, you’re surprised at the facelift they finally gave it after all these years. Lush green grass grows where the yellow and brown shrub used to be, and a wooden gazebo that looks like it’s missing a finishing coat stands tall, replacing the picnic table where you and the metal head used to smoke. Even the gravel that paves the road looks new and gray, not the dirt brown mud that it used to be. 

It’s still a struggle to wrap your head around the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the former king of Hawkin’s and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson not only work together, but live together too. You would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you this five years ago. 

The BMW’s tires crunch loudly against the rocks as Steve pulls into the driveway of a hunter green trailer. It sits in the back of the park, almost touching the edge of the woods behind it. A faded white line running along the length that matches the metal railing of their front entrance and the overhang that covers it. The paint peels from parts of the metal in the heat, revealing spots of the gray hidden underneath. A worn in deep maroon couch sits on the porch just like the dirty brown one at Wayne’s trailer, and you already know Eddie spends his mornings there. You internally groan when you catch yourself wondering if Steve does too.

“Home sweet home,” he hums, cutting the engine off and pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You dare to meet his eyes for the first time since you left the apartment when Robin jumps out of the front seat, and you immediately regret it. He smiles wide, finally catching your attention, those perfect white teeth baring themselves at you as he pulls off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty bed head. The long strand he’s always at battle with falls through the opening in the back when he puts it on again, because, of course it does.

“Good to see you finally slumming it with the rest of us, King Steve,” you snort, pulling on the handle to let yourself out, ending any chance of conversation.

If it wasn’t for your Eddie barreling out of the front door to greet you and Robin with a big dimpled grin and a freshly rolled joint, you would’ve thought a little harder about the way Steve winced at the nickname.

The Munson/Harrington Bachelor pad anomaly isn’t exactly what you expected it to be, but even then you weren’t entirely sure what that was. It’s cozy just like how Wayne’s used to be but where there’s hand me downs that have been through the short line of Munson men’s hands, there’s an equal amount of obviously perfectly well kept new. Like the shiny big TV in the center of their living room, and the well-loved lazy boy in front of it, that still had cigarette burns from its previous owner, next to the rich tan leather couch right by it.

It smells like it has just been cleaned, a sanitizing lilac still lingering in the air, trying its best to cover the smell of all grease stained clothing in their hampers and the smoke from joints like the one Eddie’s about to put out in an ashtray full of ones just like it.

He sits at the head of the table with a lopsided grin that pushes up the apples of his cheeks and reveals the deep dimples in the center of them. Droopy lids frame his bloodshot eyes that meet your own. Orange and pinks paint the darkening sky through the sliding glass door behind him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Eddie chuckles with a fond glint in big brown eyes leaning back in his chair that squeaks under the redistribution of his weight.

“Back by popular demand,” you smirk, pointing at Robin, who sits just on the other side of the table, glassy eyed with an unwavering smile. 

You try to ignore how the empty chair next to her bothers you, or they way your eyes keep looking toward the kitchen through the small opening of their little island, giving you the perfect view of Steve prepping dinner. His thick eyebrows are furrowed as he digs through spice racks and drawers, front teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip deep in thought.

“I think this calls for a fire,” Eddie announces loudly, bringing you back to the conversation with a slap of his palms on the wood of the table and the kind of smirk that tells you that you’ve been caught.

“We told Janice next door weekends only after last time,” Steve’s voice startles you, making his presence known, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s Thursday. Practically the weekend. Besides it’s a special occasion, look who’s here Stevie boy.” Something in Eddie’s tone makes Steve’s eyes narrow in a silent threat that only makes the metal heads' lips twist up into something more devilish. 

“You have to put it out before bed then, I’m not dealing with it like last time.” Steve accepts defeat quicker than anticipated, “And if she calls or comes over to complain at all, that's all on you too.”

”Deal,” Eddie agrees with five fingers across his heart, the silver of his rings catching in the low light of their trailer.“I think she’s got a crush on me anyway.”

“She’s married,” Steve dead pans with a deep sigh, taking his hat off to run another hand through his hair and you hate the way it has your thighs meeting under the table. “Who’s helping me with dinner then?”

He knows better than to look at you, so his gaze falls onto his roommate and best friend.

”Don’t look at me!” Robin argues, raising her right hand to show off the faded scar on her palm. “Last time I tried to help, I had to get stitches, remember?”

”The fire’s a full time job I’m afraid,” Eddie shrugs, standing up. Not missing a beat, they both look at each other like they're in on some secret that you and Steve aren’t apart of before their eyes land on you.

”You know I’m not a good cook,” you whine, refusing to meet the heat of Steve’s stare that burns against the side of your face.

”I’m sure Steve’s more than willing to help teach you, princess.” Eddie grins, and it makes you want to slap the dimples clean off his face.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I can do it by myself,” Steve interjects with a sigh before you have a chance to respond with something that he knows will just egg the metal head on and get his ego even more bruised.

He’s not expecting the way your eyes snap to his, or the way they narrow with something fiery deep inside them.

”We’re grown adults, Steve. I think I can handle helping you cut some vegetables or whatever it is you need me to do.” Standing up with a shove of your chair, he doesn’t even attempt to argue about how that’s the exact opposite of what you just said.

”There we go! Problem solved.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous, and so is the wink he throws at his roommate before opening the sliding glass door, ushering Robin out and leaving you both alone.

The tension inside the kitchen hangs thicker in the air than the humidity outside weighing down your shoulders, making the words stick in the back of your throat as you try to navigate the close proximity to Steve. Neither one of you is sure of what to say first, and the sound of Eddie and Robin laughing outside filling the silence between you somehow makes it worse. 

The weed twists the knots in your stomach tighter, and the cedar that always seems to linger whenever he’s around turns suffocating without an escape. You lean against the sink across from him while he digs through the icebox in the fridge. Shoulder blades moving with the motions of his wrist, plastic crinkling loudly every time he moves a bag out of the way. Muttering to himself, you watch goosebumps rise on his tan skin from the cool air, muscles twitching from the shock.

This was a mistake. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tear your eyes away in hopes it will stop the dull ache between your legs from getting worse when you’re brought back to the way those same arms caged you in while his hips pushed you deeper into the mattress in your dreams last night. Looking out the small window at the beginning flames of the bonfire, a shaky breath pushes past your glossed lips, and you wipe your palms on your skirt before turning around to wash your hands.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

Cutting the water, you shake your hands in the sink before tearing off a paper towel from the roll next to you. Working up enough courage to finally turn around to look at him, you finish drying your hands with a softer expression.

”No, I can help.” 

He holds your stare, silently giving you another out while his fingers make quick work of unwrapping a head of lettuce, an onion, and a few peppers from their plastic confines. No matter how much you want to look away, you don’t, standing firm in your choice despite everything inside of you screaming to run away, and it’s enough for him to nod his head. The slight twitch of his lips while he rolls the bags in his hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I just need you to cut the onion into thin slices for the burgers, and same with the jalapeños.” He instructs, turning his back to you to throw away the wrappings. 

The sudden movement has the deep cut sleeves of his shirt fluttering open, giving you a glimpse of the thick patch of hair on his chest, and how it tapers off and down past his belly button. Your thighs find each other again, and you look up to the ceiling silently, trying to regain all the strength you thought you’d just found. 

“And the lettuce - uhh, are you okay?” Steve’s confusion makes all the blood in your body rush to the apples of your cheeks as you try to hide your internal struggle with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Never been better. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you ramble, brushing past him to the station he’s set up for you.

“…Right,” he starts with a pause before choosing to leave it alone, “I just need you to kind of rip the lettuce up, you can cut it if you want but I think bigger pieces would be better.”

You aren’t expecting his voice to come from right behind you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck. Your own goosebumps rise, dotting across exposed skin and you hope he doesn’t notice but the way he lingers in your space for a little longer despite the nod of your head makes you think otherwise. The spice of his cologne grows faint along with his footsteps against the tile floor, finding a home on the other side of the kitchen, busying himself with what he had started before.

Eddie turns on the radio, easing some of the tension from your muscles, and relaxing your shoulders as you get a good grip on the handle of the knife.

You could do this, easy. 

You really start to believe it too when you cut all the jalapeños, even humming along to an old Judas Priest song that you and Eddie used to blast in his van after school. Peeling the onion, you pretend that you don’t see the reflection of Steve staring at you from the glass of the microwave as you sway your hips and bop your head to the beat.

“So, New York huh?” He finally breaks, and your eyes flutter to the reflection to see him putting away all the spices he’d pulled out while you were smoking. “You likin’ it?”

Your movements freeze for a second, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth with all the things you’ve dreamed of saying to him. Years of coming up with all the ways you’d tell him how much better you were without him. A recurring fantasy of a ten year reunion where you’d show up with your famous screenwriter husband you’d met on the Subway, turning your nose at him and whatever Hawkin’s girl he’d managed to knock up. But instead, the universe has you here five years too early, and Steve isn’t the same guy you’d left even if you don’t quite trust it yet.

Picking up the knife again, you roll your shoulders with a quiet breath before cutting into the onion once more as you search for the words to answer.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s big and it can be a little scary sometimes but I can be myself there,” it comes out a little quieter than intended but you still twist your hips to meet his gaze from across the kitchen where he stands with crossed arms giving you his full attention. “No one really cares what you do.”

“Who are you trying to be out there?” He asks like he has no idea what small talk is, the greens in his eyes shimmering against the last bit of sunlight that shines on his face.

“Someone stronger than who I was in high school,” you whisper, turning back around to focus on the task at hand and not your ex trying to dig into the depths of your soul while you cut onions.

“You were always the strongest person I knew,” he counters, and you can practically hear the shrug that you know follows his words.

”You certainly liked to test it.” 

It comes out before you can bite your tongue, your knife slicing right into the center of the onion and hitting the cutting board roughly, adding dramatic effect.

”Ouch,” he hums with a small laugh, silverware clanking against the metal of the sink behind you as he finishes cleaning up his mess, “I guess I deserved that one.”

“Steve.” You stop cutting, dropping the knife to look at him, unintentionally swiping your eye in the process, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Rob- oh fuck!”

The burning in your right eye becomes unbearable, the tears spilling freely down your cheek blurring your vision with a harsh sting.

”Oh, oh no. Did you touch your eye?!” Steve sounds panicked, sneakers scuffling against the tile as he hurries to grab a washcloth from the drawer. 

“It was an accident!” You whine, closing your eyes as tight as you can, willing the burning tears to stop, the sound of water running from the sink filling your ears, “God it hurts so bad, Steve.”

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

The coolness of the rag provides instant relief when he presses it gently to your eye. Taking a deep breath, you feel the warmth of his palm rub up and down your arm soothing your irritated nerves more. The sting doesn’t fully go away, but it subsides enough for the tears to slow down as he applies a little more pressure before removing it to wet it again. Blinking past the burning, you finally realize just how close you are to him now. 

Chests practically touching, you can see the beginnings of stubble lining his jaw despite being able to tell that he shaved today. The vampire bites on his neck that used to be your favorite to kiss taunt you for what feels like the millionth time this week. With cedar and musk filling your lungs, it feels impossible to breathe.

He cuts off the water, turning towards you again, and you aren’t prepared for the depth in his eyes meeting yours from this distance. They’re soft when they look at you, the chestnut inside them warming gold as you stare back at him a little dazed. Calloused fingertips stop their path up your arm to gently grab your chin, tilting your face up to his so he can get a better look at the damage. He’s sweet with the way moves your head around, the pad of his thumb smoothing the skin under your irritated eye.

”I think you’ll be okay, I don’t see any seeds or anything trapped inside,” he whispers, thumb never stopping its movements while his gaze flicks down to your lips that pout on their own, something electric charging in the air.

The sliding glass door opens behind him before you can answer, Robin and Eddie making their presence known in a loud burst of energy. Snatching the wet rag from his hand, you’re quick to put distance between you. Placing the cool cloth against your face, you make your way out of the kitchen before anyone can ask you anything about what happened. Muttering a “thanks Steve '' on your way to assess just how ruined your makeup is in the bathroom. 

Your heart pounds in your ears feeling the ghost of his touch everywhere, chest tightening because your body won’t stop screaming for more.

You stay in the bathroom long enough for the burning to subside, mumbling words that resemble some kind of pep talk while scrubbing your hands. Fingers that still shake with nerves fix your smudged mascara, listening for the moment their voices go quiet behind the sliding glass door before you decide to finally venture out. The sound of Steve’s laugh catches in your ears, as you make your way through the empty trailer, the corners of your lips curling on their own as you tug on the handle that separates you from them. The humidity is quick to turn your skin sticky despite the sun disappearing behind the trees. 

”There she is! I heard Harrington tried to blind you,” Eddie chuckles from his place crouched in front of the fire. A half smoked cigarette dangling lazily from the side of his mouth as he ‘stokes’ the flames, the crackling wood competing with the buzz of the cicadas that surround you.

”Riddle me this, Steve, why is it that whenever someone ’helps’ you cook, they end up in the hospital or worse, almost BLIND!” 

From her spot sitting on one of the many faded red plastic lawn chairs they have circled around the pit, Robin doesn’t hesitate to turn it into a dog pile with dramatics that could rival an Oscar winning actress.

Steve rolls his eyes, the warm light from the smaller flame of the grill glowing underneath him, highlighting his sharp features. His gaze meets yours, ignoring his friends, and you swear even from here, you can see the green inside each eye shine. You know there’s a million questions he wants to ask but there’s only one that comes out, and it’s soft just like the way he touched you inside.

”Are you okay?”

It’s hard for you to look anywhere but his face, remembering just how pretty it was up close. Your eyes trace the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his full bottom lip before finally meeting his eyes. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth reminds you that you haven’t answered him yet but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Robin’s low whistle do all the talking.

”Uhh, yeah, I’m good. Crisis averted,” you mumble, snapping out of it, cheeks warming up enough to compete with the fire pit you stumble around, landing in the seat next to your best friend. “No jalapenos on mine, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

Without a cloud in an almost completely dark sky, you start to see the twinkling of the stars you’ll always miss begin to appear. They battle for your attention against the fireflies that flicker through the tall grass and into the woods. Lighter fluid stings your nose when Steve squirts more onto the burning coals, switching from hot dogs to burgers like he’s been grilling for a family of four his whole life.

A couple of beers calm your nerves that threaten to give you away, watching Steve in his element like this, the holes cut in his shirt showing off every flex of his muscles as he flips the patties. Cheese melting over the burger meat, just like your body that sinks further into the lawn chair that sticks to the backs of your thighs. He throws you a knowing look, making you clear your throat. Straightening your posture, you try to join in Robin and Eddie’s conversation like you hadn’t just been caught. Taking another long swig of the bitter semi cold liquid, you hope it’s enough to get you through dinner.

It’s not.

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town. 

It’s when a dribble of ketchup lands on top of Steve's hand after a large bite that you lose your cool. Right between his thumb and index finger, he hums with cheeks full of food before those full lips of his wrap around the spilled sauce, cleaning it with a flick of his tongue.

”I’m gonna throw my plate away, is anyone else done?” You squeak, standing up abruptly, your chair nearly falling backwards in the process. 

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to be a good house guest is all,” you lie, making Eddie quirk an eyebrow, the dimples in his cheeks coming out to play again.

”Uh huh.” He smirks before handing you his plate that Robin quickly piles hers on top of. “Sure.”

”That’s very sweet of you,” Steve chimes in, with a lopsided grin on his face that makes you want to punch the air and get out of here. 

“She’s pure class Harrington, get it right,” Robin comes for the save with a knowing wink that only makes the heat growing in your cheeks worse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble quickly turning on your heel, feeling all their eyes on you as you make your way to the back door of the trailer.

”Hurry back. We're gonna play Never Have I Ever,” your best friend calls out over her shoulder making you wish you could just stay inside when the sliding glass door closes behind you.

Embers spark and pop from the fire before they disappear into the night sky, the full moon’s white glow stopping just along the dark edges of the trees that surround the backyard. The four of you sit around the pit with fresh beers in hand. The buzz of the alcohol turning Steve’s gaze heavy as he stares at you from across the flickering flames. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look everywhere but his direction, and hope he doesn’t see the way your thighs press under the heat of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Robin?” Eddie whispers, big brown eyes glancing between the both of you, and your bouncing knee.

”It’s fine, they’ll be fine. Right guys?” She waves the metal head off, nudging you with her elbow, completely unphased.

”Of course we’ll be fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?” You snap, tugging the bottom of your skirt down, all the built up tension turning into aggression. Steve smiles into his next gulp.

“Whoa, whoa. I was just asking, but you do seem a little tense.” She raises her hands in surrender, both her eyebrows disappearing behind her shaggy bangs while Eddie distracts himself by poking the fire.

“Relax, it’s just a game,” Steve sighs, settling deeper in his chair, the warm amber in the flames bouncing off the mischievous gold in his eyes that keep their hold on you. “Besides, we’re friends now, right?”

Your gaze narrows, the grip on your beer tightening enough to hear the pop of the metal.“Yep,” you manage to get out, shooting Eddie a glare when he snorts.

“If you guys say so,” he starts, ignoring your scowl while getting cut off by Robin who’s practically vibrating in her seat now.

”Let’s have fun already. I’ll start.” Robin shushes him before acting like she’s deep in thought, turning to face you with the kind of grin on her face that tells you she’s up to no good, “Never have I ever…let some Wall Street douchebag go down on me in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.”

“That’s weirdly specific- oh wait! Damn! Princess!” Eddie whoops when you take a swig with a roll of your eyes, flipping Robin the bird. 

“Gotta try everything once, right?” You shrug, holding his gaze with a smirk, not even trying to hide that you’re taking great pleasure in the way Steve’s jaw clenches at the new found information of your life outside of here. “He had a nice mouth when he wasn’t using it for talking.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the mossy greens in his eyes turning dark as you lean back in your chair smugly.

“She’s a wild one, I’ll tell ya,” Robin giggles fondly, passing the baton to you with a proud smile.

Maybe it was the beer or the incessant way Steve’s presence drove you to the brink of insanity by rageful lust. Or even just the way he sat across from you with his legs spread wide like he ruled the world, whatever it was, that's what’s to blame for the question that rolls off your tongue.

“Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”

Robin’s jaw drops, guffawing with a harsh slap on your leg, mouthing a ‘you said you’d be nice’ but the buzz of the alcohol keeps a lopsided grin on her face. Eddie drinks, nervously watching the staring contest going on between you and Steve. Like a dog and its owner trying to establish dominance, both of you refuse to be the one who looks away first. Taking two gulps for good measure, he smacks his lips loudly when he’s done, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his wrist. Raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

”Who’s next? Who's next?” Robin urges with a flick on your knee, forcing you to fold and give her your attention with a blink of your eyes and it feels like the first time in hours that you finally look at someone other than Steve. 

Your teeth clench, grinding at the thought that even after all this time he’s still got this kind of hold on you, and it has you riding the thin line between wanting to give him a black eye or have him take you for a spin in his beemer for old times sake. 

“Eddie,” raising your can in his direction, he meets you in the middle with a cheers that doesn’t quite touch before slinking back in his chair with an exhausted huff.

“Hmmm, what do I want to reveal about myself?” He hums deep in thought, metal rings clinking against tin in a familiar tune as he taps his fingers around his beer can, “Never have I ever… been in a threesome, despite being titled ‘freak’ of Hawkins.”

“Really?” Robin seems genuinely shocked, making you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me too.” Eddie shrugs, with a knowing grin that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut.

That’s when you see it. Steve taking a drink.

”WHAT?!” Your best friend squeals practically jumping from her seat, clearly something that's not common knowledge being revealed.

Jealousy is an ugly monster, and it finds a home deep inside your chest tonight, turning you green with it. Your half empty beer can crunches the more your fingers dig into the tin, eyes narrowing when he just responds to Robin with a coy smirk and a shrug bringing his attention back to you.

”Gotta try everything once right?” Steve mocks, full pink lips curling up at the corners as he takes another sip.

Your heart sinks with your stomach, the muscles in your face doing the same before you have a chance to stop it. Visions of red nails and pink lips that don’t belong to you dance through your head, and the smug smirk he probably wore while his big hands gripped their hips taking turns making them moan his name. The sound of your can completely collapsing in a loud crunch gets everyone’s attention, and you ignore the softened expression on Steve’s face trying to capture your gaze again. Eddie clears his throat, throwing you a life line before opening a new can of beer with a suggestion you’ve never been more grateful for.

”Alright Steve, your turn.” 

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.”

A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night. 

“Look, she was a college senior, okay? I was only a sophomore and she was way cooler than me. Judge me all you want, but it worked didn’t it?” She argues, lifting her beer to the sky before taking a sip proudly. “No regrets!”

Her smile is contagious, easing some of the tension when you and Eddie giggle meeting each other's eyes from across her honey blond waves. You can feel Steve’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, the heat of it in direct competition with the fire that thrives off the light breeze that rustles through the trees. 

“Aright, alright, never have I ever faked getting off.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a toothy grin, looking at Eddie specifically who gives her a dead stare in response, clearly something told to her in confidence. 

Biting your lip, you really weren’t going to add more fuel to the fire but when you finally meet Steve’s eyes that have been begging for your attention this whole time, you can’t help but douse the flames with the whole can of gasoline. Another flash of different shades of lipstick staining the freckles you loved to kiss so much sending another wave of rage down to your core.

”I can think of a few times.” You snort loudly, holding his gaze and pointedly stealing everyone else's attention before polishing off the last of your crumpled can.

Steve’s jaw clenches hard enough that you swear you can hear his teeth crunch together. Nostrils flaring with a gaze so dark it threatens to swallow you whole, all traces of honey and warmth gone, leaving you chilled to the bone.

”I think we’re done with this game Robin,” he grunts, standing up with a kick of his chair and for once his eyes don’t search for yours as he stomps across the yard towards the yellow light of the trailer. 

“Seriously!” Your best friend groans, slinking back in her chair with a hand running down her face, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

”Yeah, genius! I told you, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen to me.” Eddie scoffs into his beer can, using his free hand to poke at the fire.

”Can you go, like, talk to him or something?” Robin turns to you with an almost pleading look that gets more prominent the more your face turns sour.

“Me?! I have to go talk to him? Seriously? He’s the one who stormed off,” you argue, crossing your arms.

”Yeah, well you clearly hurt his feelings.” She points at his pacing figure through the kitchen window and it takes everything inside of you not to tell her that he hurt yours first.

The two of you stare each other down, the wills of stubbornness at battle until her eyes go soft, big and glassy. 

“Please,” she begs, pulling out the big guns, and jutting out her bottom lip.

You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before surrendering with a roll of your eyes, huffing loudly when you uncross your arms to stand up, making her face light back up.

”I hate you. More than anything.”

Eddie cackles loudly at your lie, digging in his front pocket for a smushed pack of cigarettes.

“We all know you don’t mean that,” she hums with a content smile, leaning over to snatch the freshly lit tobacco from the metalhead’s mouth, waving at you as you start to follow Steve’s path up to the trailer. “Please don’t kill him!”

Closing the sliding glass door behind you, a shiver runs up your spine when the coolness of the air conditioning hits your sticky skin. The sound of running water catches in your ears from the kitchen along with the murmur of his voice under its rush.You can’t quite make out what he’s saying to himself, even when you reach the doorway. 

Hunched over the sink, his shoulder blades flex with every harsh scrub of the pan. His hat rests on the counter, and you can’t help but notice the wild way his hair sits on the top of his head from wearing it all day, sun kissed tips curling from the humidity. Clearing your throat just loud enough to alert him of your presence, you watch the way his whole body goes rigid. It only lasts for a moment before he recovers, shutting off the water with a lazy slap of his hand. Turning around he grabs the dish towel next to him to dry off, meeting your gaze with a little more color in his eyes, flecks of gold trying to shimmer in a raging storm.

Having his full attention on you, alone like this, is enough for your tongue to go numb. The back of your throat turns into sandpaper, making it impossible for words to find their way out. A big hand runs through his hair, fingers getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out with ease, a gentle sigh deflating his defensive chest just a little before he speaks.

“Hey.” 

Anger still boils under all of the attraction, along with the jealousy you aren’t willing to acknowledge.You aren’t ready. You can’t do this yet.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, turning on your heel and leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

You ignore the way he calls after you, seeking solace in the place that's become your hiding spot for the night. Fingers wrap around the handle to the familiar room, you stop in your tracks when a warm patch of light leaking out from a crack in a door that wasn’t opened before catches your attention. 

You can smell the cedar from here.

Glancing over your shoulder to see if he followed you, it changes the course of your direction when you discover that he didn’t. Taking a few steps across the hallway, you’re careful not to let the hinges creak when you push his bedroom door open a little more. Your senses quickly become overwhelmed with everything that makes Steve, Steve. You throw another cautious look down the hallway before crossing the invisible line. Closing the door like how you found it, you let your curiosity get the best of you. 

It’s cleaner than you thought it’d be now that he doesn’t live inside the Harrington’s massive house anymore. His bed is bigger, the twin sized mattress that you used to squeeze into traded in for a queen. The navy blue comforter that looks soft to the touch is laid out messy on white sheets, a digital clock with glaring red numbers that read 10:30 pm on the nightstand next to it. 

The carpet under your feet is a heather gray, and you can tell that it’s scratchy even with your shoes on. Patrick Swayze watches your every move from the Roadhouse poster hanging on his wall, the floor creaking as you make your way toward the small work desk in the corner. Your eyes linger on the impressive way all his dirty clothes manage to be in his hamper before they find the framed pictures spread over his desk. 

There’s one of him with the middle school boy you knew as Dustin Henderson perched on his back, only he looks much older than you remembered. The curls still give him away despite the braces free smile. Both of them grin hard enough for their eyes to crinkle in the corners like they had finally stopped laughing long enough for someone to snap this picture. 

You fight back the way your cheeks threaten to push up, not surprised to find one of him and Robin at what looks like Lover’s Lake, both of them striking the same pose with inflatable tubes around their waists wearing matching bucket hats and sunglasses.

The guy in these photos doesn’t seem anything like the one you remember and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it. They look the same.

”I don’t think this is the bathroom, do you?” Steve’s voice makes you jump, heart stopping in your chest for a split second before you meet his questioning stare with a guilty face of your own. 

His arms are crossed over his chest as leans against the door frame, unintentionally pulling the collar of his shirt down giving you a glimpse of the patch of hair and the gold chain underneath. The softness in his eyes from the kitchen is gone as he stares you down, it’s replaced with something you can’t quite put your finger on but the intensity of it raking over your body has your thighs meeting for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His full pink lips twist into a sarcastic smirk as he pushes off the wood, taking the next few steps into his room.

”Did you really mean what you said out there?” He questions, dark eyes sparkling the more you squirm under the heat of them.

”Mean what? I said a lot of things out there. We all did.” Narrowing your gaze, you try to take back some semblance of control, squaring up your shoulders at him but the dark chuckle you get in response tells you it’s a futile attempt.

“I didn’t say anything about you specifically though, did I?” Steve counters, stopping just a few feet away from you, tongue poking at the side of his cheek, “No, I don’t think I did.”

He hums, uncrossing his arms to mimic your stance in a silent challenge, eyebrows raised waiting on your response.

”I didn’t say anything about you specifically either.” Jutting out your chin in defiance, it's your turn to cross your arms now. Maturity at its finest.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he holds your eyes with his own and it takes everything inside of you not to look away. Your tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he starts to take a few steps closer, broad shoulders making the room feel small when the toes of his sneakers meet yours.

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk. 

He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb.

“I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?”

It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

”W-what?” Your stutter gives you away, but at least you tried to fight one last time before he went in for the kill.

The whites of his teeth show in the kind of smile that tells you he was hoping you’d ask just that. Leaning in, his palms land on his desk finding purchase on either side of your hips, caging you in. He’s close enough for the tip of his nose to brush against yours, close enough to smell the wheat from his beer on the warm breath that fans against your lips. 

“You wouldn’t still look at me the way you do, if I hadn’t made you feel good honey. And you know what else?” 

His voice goes deep as he whispers, nose nudging at your cheek before his lips hover right by your ear making you shiver, goosebumps making their second appearance of the day. Your hands find the edge of his desk, chest brushing against his in a deep breath feeling the slightest touch of his lips against the soft spot right behind it.  

“I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own.

“Steve -”

His fingers grab your chin like at the shop with just a firm enough hold for you to pull away if you want to but you can’t bring yourself to do it when his eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You wonder if it's just a mirror reflection of your own as he takes some of the new space you’ve given him, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body where yours screams for him most. His brows furrow when your noses brush and he swears he can taste the watermelon of your lip gloss, and then he knows he can when he feels your fingers curl into his shirt tugging him closer.

“I think,” he breathes into your mouth, hesitating just enough to soak it in a second longer before pulling away with an almost pained expression that he quickly tries to cover up, “I think it’s time for me to take you and Robin home.”

He steps back and out of your space, a nervous hand running through his hair like he did something he wasn’t supposed to do. His eyes meet yours again and there's something apologetic that swirls in the deep forest that watches you tug your skirt down straightening up.

”I’ll uh, I’ll give you a minute while I go wrangle Robin.” 

He takes one last look at you like he really needs to be sure of something before finally walking out and leaving you alone to wonder how the night ended with you here. Skirt rucked up, trying to catch your breath in Steve Harrington’s room.

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

[turnaboutwright]

Autistic Ramblings. Literally that’s IT

for a while i’ve had the autistic urge to explain to someone all my different “good luck” charms and the pocket tiger post made me realize i can just make a whole list explaining them here. so if you do happen to read this please like it but i also know it’s a personal thing that most people wouldn’t care about (and now has become rather long!) especially if you don’t know me. ANYWAYS. here we go. in no real particular order-!

-the coin i got at the Chattanooga aquarium last year when i visited for my birthday! it has paddlefish on it :) my best friend went with us that day and i have fond memories associated with it

-my prosecutors badge! obviously means a lot because it’s connected to my fav of all time but it was also a gift from my best friend in the first year i knew him and stays pinned to my hat, which i wear most of the time

-similarly my defense attorney badge! i got it years ago and it’s really good quality. has a good weight to it for a pin so i can’t pin it to my hat. i usually keep it in my pocket/wallet funnily enough (in aa usually phoenix/defense attorneys display their badges while edgeworth/prosecutors keep them in their pocket) but sometimes i pin it to my shirt if im wearing a button down

-ok last ace attorney thing lol. i have a really cool charm that has phoenix on one side and miles on the other. it’s one of the very few fandom etsy type things i’ve bought. it stays in my wallet most of the time

-my special rock!!! theres a stream/river that my mom and i love to visit and there was an area where the water made a little creek from the road down to the larger area and i could have watched it forever. i happened to spot a very very flat rock shaped like and arrowhead and with edges that almost let you see the layers. i felt a little bad about it but figured since it wouldn’t dislodge anything it’d be okay to take. it has a different recharging system than the others but i haven’t even gotten to that yet.

-my transformers figures! so pretty much all of them are cheap toys i bought while working fast food as rewards to myself after tough weeks but i’m glad to have them. i rotate them based on how i’m feeling that day. optimus is for long or tiring days when i think i’ll need strength to get through a shift. ratchet is for when i’m already exhausted before going into work or not feeling well in the morning. starscream and soundwave i usually just have as general support but i have a particular soundwave figure a friend gave me that i take when i want to remember them and their support.

-transformers...2! just a funny note. i put those guys in my lunch box when i go to work but usually make sure they go in my locker and not the fridge. especially if i took starscream that day. i get the feeling my day would end up having some kind of negative note if i left him in there. same with ratchet but that’s more because i can imagine him complaining and he doesn’t deserve it really

-my dragon spinner ring! one of my oldest charms that i still have. technically i’ve lost it again (there was a time i couldn’t find it for years after we moved) but i’m pretty sure its in my room somewhere. i got it several several years ago at the renaissance festival. i think it’s the only thing my dad’s gotten me that i consider really special. obviously i love spinning it and it really does look cool.

okay! those are all my current “good luck” items that i use fairly regularly. i probably have others tucked away. pretty much any small trinket i’m gifted from someone who means a lot to me becomes one of these items

i also have a recharging system for them that i consider fairly important! mainly it just means that after a few consecutive days of ‘using’ a particular charm it has to ‘recharge’ or it won’t help me as much if at all. listen. i KNOW they don’t actually do anything. but it’s the thought that counts and this system helps me feel better. so i make sure to let my charms rest out of respect for what they do for me and so they can continue to help me.

basically this just means that they go into my bedside drawer for a few days usually. while my rock can recharge like this it won’t be fully up to strength till i dunk it in a body of water again. any water helps but it’s especially charged after i let it soak in the stream i got it from for a minute. i can only do this maybe once a month though.

also shout out to my original charm that “recharged”! it was a pendant, also from the renaissance festival i believe, that was kinda rectangular with curved edges and made out of glass. it was deep blue/purple, had a sorta square pattern going on inside, and was slightly smaller than my thumb. anyways it recharged via the sun and i used it freshman year of hs to get through PE. i named it corn after a stone from a certain manga i use to be obsessed with in middle school/part of hs. the character in the manga used her blue stone similarly, that is for emotional support, and also use to hold it up to the sun. i probably still have it somewhere but it’s i don’t use it or wear it anymore

ok! that’s all i can think of at the moment but i really enjoyed typing this all out. if you happened to read all of this....why...but also thank you. i love knowing that someone else knows these things now. i cant just tell when i try to explain these things irl people tune me out rip;;; though i understand why

[acourtofsnakes]

Returning The Favour - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader part 2 (smut)

Summary: After one hell of a day, you decide to help Bucky relax, and to repay the favour from a few nights ago. 

Warnings: 18+ only, smut ahead! Oral/blowjob – M receiving, hand job – m receiving, swearing/cursing, p in v sex (unprotected) – doggy style, face sitting, cowgirl, just pure filth, tbh. 

Smut under the cut!!

Word count: 4.5k+

A/n: A little bit of body positivity added in here too. You are all beautiful, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise  

A/N: This is part 2 of A Helping Hand, but as there isn’t much of a plot (aside from the smut. I mean, c’mon), it can also be read as a standalone!! It touches briefly on the plot of FATWS, but nothing really detailed. 

Permanet Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood​

Part 1

A few weeks had passed by since that night Bucky had devoured you, tearing your soul to pieces and burning through you like wildfire. 

You hadn’t stopped thinking about it… and hadn’t stopped thinking about him. 

His hands on your body, searing lines into your skin, one hot and one cold. 

The drag of his tongue inside your walls, letting you ride his face whilst the world crashed down through you. 

His hand, that damned vibranium hand fucking you into oblivion. 

God, you needed him. You needed more of him, all of him. You wanted him to tear you apart again and knit you back together with his lips and his tongue. 

You wanted him to feel the same release you had the same earth-shattering pleasure. 

You’d tried to calm the fire by using your own fingers and toys, but no matter how much you replayed that night in your head – in perfect clarity – it just wasn’t the same anymore. 

Your toys, which you had spent a hell of a lot of money on… just didn’t do it. They weren’t enough. 

They weren’t… him. 

You couldn’t concentrate on your work, earning you more disapproval from Fury and he even asked you what the hell was going on and would you mind keeping your thoughts on the job, not on whatever was making you zone into space for twenty minutes straight with that look on your face. 

Luckily, you had managed to escape anymore of Nick’s wrath, by tagging along with Bucky as he went to help Sam, who was engaged in trying to take down a group of rebels called the Flag Smashers. 

You’d arrived to help him and the three of you set about doing what you could, also whilst trying to avoid John Walker, who had been rebranded as the new Captain America. 

Touchy subject. Best not to go there. 

Anyway, back on the case of the Flag Smashers.  They were being supplied with Super soldier serum from someone called the Power Broker, and the boys were at a loose end as to how to learn more. 

Well of course, there was one person who was the most knowledgeable about the serum. 

Helmut Zemo, a Sokovian villain who looked like he’d walk straight out of a film about British spies, fast cars and imaginative villains. 

You knew Bucky’s past with him, of course. 

You had fought alongside the others when Zemo triggered Bucky into becoming the Winter Soldier again. 

So, you had to admit you were surprised when you learned that Bucky himsef had ‘hypothetically’ given Zemo the way out of his German prison. 

Plans had been made, which is how tonight, you’d found yourself in Madripoor, each of you posing as a different persona. 

Sam was to be the ‘Smiling Tiger.” 

You were Zemo’s… acquaintance. His “Little Bird” he’d called you – much to Bucky’s frustration. At first, you thought it was simply because Zemo was… well, he was a ‘bad guy’. 

But as the night wore on, you noticed the looks Bucky shot the pair of you, his jaw clenching every single time Zemo’s hand brushed your waist, or he pressed his nose to your hair. 

The Baron didn’t touch you in any way you hadn’t already discussed, and you were comfortable but… the icy glint in Bucky’s eye, the tightening of his mouth when you asked him what was wrong, and he stayed silent… 

Something more was going on. More than just the role he was required to play. 

Bucky was be the Winter Soldier again. The very man he tried so desperately to escape from, the man who’s actions he was still trying to make amends for. 

You’d had to watch him play the Soldier all night, watch the tension build and build in the clenched muscle of his jaw, in the hard line of his shoulders and the tight prowl in his walk. 

Which was why, after escaping a fight and getting a little banged up yourself, you were looking into the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting the straps of the lingerie set you had slipped into. 

Okay, so maybe it was cliché. 

But Bucky had had one hell of a night. You could practically feel the tension rolling off of him from his hotel room opposite your own. 

You still had a favour to repay him, so why not go all out? He deserved it. 

Besides, you had spent a long time working up the confidence to look into the mirror and be happy and proud of what you saw, instead of feeling the need to change. 

You were proud of yourself and needed no-one else’s approval. 

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t rewarding to hear. 

Especially from a man with a wicked jawline and killer baby-blues. 

With one final shake of your hair, you pulled on your silky robe, padding to the door of your hotel room and you slipped into the cool hallway. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you moved across the plush carpet, knocking on Bucky’s door. 

Thank the lords, saints, old-gods and the new that Zemo was a Baron. This hotel was expensive, luxurious and did not have that funky smell that most hotels seemed to have. 

The rooms were lavish and richly decorated, the bathroom dripping with taste and money and the bed… well. The bed was certainly big enough for what you had in mind tonight. 

You were thoroughly determined to wreck the neatly folded covers. 

A few moments later, you heard footsteps and then the door opened. Those eyes greeted you, though they were deeper, like the colour of the sea in a storm. 

Bucky tilted his head, one hand braced on the door to open it, frowning slightly when he saw you. It was late after all. “Is everything alright, doll?” He peered down the hallway, like he was looking for threats. 

You shook your head lightly, “Nothing’s wrong, Bucky…” Lifting your eyes to his through your lashes, you moved your hands to the front of your robe, “I just thought I’d return the favour. And help you relax…” 

At your honeyed tone, at the movement in your hands, Bucky went rigid. Less in a tense way, more in anticipation. His eyes zeroed in on your hands, watching as you undid the sash and let the silk robe fall open, baring your body to him. 

Clad in gorgeous lace and delicate fabric of your favourite colour, the lingerie clung to the shape of your body, flaunting it and accentuating every beautiful line. 

Oh, it had so been worth the small fortune it cost. 

You were glad you had purchased more.

The door creaked, wood protesting as his vibranium arm gripped it. Bucky’s pupils dilated, black blotting out the blue as he raked his eyes over every inch of you. It wasn’t creepy or possessive. It was… worshipping. Awestruck. 

You had him in the palm of your already. 

Soon, it would be physically. 

“Are you going to let me in, Buck? There’s so many ways I could help you relax…” You let the robe slip off of your shoulders, leaving you incredibly bare in the middle of the very open hallway, in the very expensive, reputable hotel. 

But you didn’t care. 

Not with the way his Arctic eyes had deepened to the colour of cobalt, searing into you with the same fire that he had consumed with the other night. 

Not as he stood back, letting you in and following every single movement you made, the sway of your hips, the feline smile gracing your lips as you sashayed past him. He was enraptured by you, rendered helpless by the mere sight of you.

You saw his hands clench just before he turned to shut the door, like he was stopping himself from pulling you into his body and shredding the scraps of lace and velvet that were a barrier to your gorgeous skin and curves. 

The door snicked shut softly, shutting you both off from the rest of the world. 

You turned to face Bucky, extending your hand to him, “Come here.” You kept that honey rich tone, but you had no need to raise your voice, because Bucky had moved before the words even left your mouth. 

He slid his left hand into yours, the vibranium cool against the warmth of your skin. It was welcome, for you were burning an inferno inside that you were hiding very, very well. In fact, you were already wet, since the moment you slipped that lingerie on and saw your refection in the mirror. 

You pressed your lips to the back of Bucky’s hand, saying with movement what you knew he wouldn’t believe in words. 

That it was beautiful, strong… an extension of the graceful, deadly power that he had honed. You were never, ever afraid of it. Not even tonight, when he was playing the Soldier. Not even when he was the Soldier. 

Lifting your eyes to his, you let your tongue dart out, tracing along the golden grooves in the plates of dark vibranium. 

Fuck, the mere taste of the cool metal brought you back to that night. 

You moaned a little in the back of your throat, appreciatively and flattened your tongue over his knuckles, bringing his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them delicately, just as you had before. Except this time, it was you in charge. 

Bucky twitched, in every sense of the word. The plates of his arm clicked just faintly, like he was restraining himself even as a soft growl rumbled in the base of his chest. The sight of you sucking on his fingers again only made his jeans even more uncomfortable and he longed to feel your hot wet tongue on his skin. Every single inch of his skin. 

His own hand wasn’t enough anymore, especially not after that night. It had been near painful for him when he left, and he’d barely made it back to his own room before his hand was jamming into his boxers and he fucked his own palm until he was crying your name through gritted teeth. 

Never before had he felt such an urge to have feeling in his left hand, to feel your walls clench around him as you fell apart above him. 

It was like you could read his mind. 

You slipped off of his fingers with a small pop, a wicked gleam in your eyes as you dropped your hands to his belt buckle. Seconds later, you were undoing the zipper to his jeans, wasting no time in looping your fingers into both the waistband of his jeans, and the band of his boxers. 

You pulled them slowly down, lower and lower past his hips until his heavy swollen cock sprung free. 

Holy fucking shit. 

He was huge. 

Thick and smooth, the head already swollen and leaking. 

You wanted to taste him. 

You wanted him down your throat and buried inside you every single way until you could feel nothing but him, think of nothing but him. 

Forcing back your impatience, you slowly lowered, pulling his jeans down until they reached his ankles, and you were on your knees before him. 

Looking up through your eyelashes, you saw his head tilted down to watch you, is chin touching his chest. Those ridiculous eyes were fiercely burning, and his full, plush lips had parted in an effort to suck in more air. 

Oh, you were going to wreck him. 

You rose up a little higher, pressing your lips to the patch of neatly trimmed curls before following a trail lower, and then dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock, over that swollen vein that made you positively feral. 

Bucky’s hands flew into your hair, a barely restrained groan rising from his chest and he muttered, “Shit – shit.” 

Barely able to restrain the grin, you darted your tongue into the tiny slit, gathering that little bead of precum and then you took him into your mouth, inch by inch.

Fucking hell.

He was heavy, hot in your mouth and the velvety feel of his skin against your tongue and teeth was something you might just have died to feel again. 

You kept him still for a second, really wanting to draw this out for him – and because the weight of him against your jaw was sending floods of pleasure between your thighs and you knew the expensive lace of your underwear was already drenched. 

Bucky twitched, both inside your mouth and out and he tugged a little on your hair, “Baby, you gotta move – please, move.” 

Had this been a normal game you were playing; you might have let him suffer a little longer. But this was about relaxing him, about making him feel better so you granted him his wish and began to bob your head up and down. 

His soft moans were a symphony to your ears, a song you quickly learned the rhythm of as you moved faster, hollowing your cheeks now and then so he felt the drag of your wet, warm cheeks. 

His moans turned into curses when you reached up to toy with his balls, massaging them just slightly as you dragged your lower teeth against the vein. 

He jerked forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat suddenly, “Fuck, sorry baby, I didn’t mean to-“ 

His apologies were almost stammered, but you swiftly cut him off with a sinful moan. 

The mere feel of him, the pressure of him pushing against your throat nearly made you explode there and then. 

Your eyes rolled back slightly, hips rocking against nothing by instinct and fingers digging into his thighs. 

Bucky swore softly under his breath, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper, “You – you liked that?” 

Nodding around him, you pulled all the way off briefly, “Yes.” You gasped the word, pumping him with your hand a few times before taking him in your mouth again, sucking him with all the force of someone eating a five-star meal. 

You devoured him, setting a relentless pattern of kitten licks, hollowing your cheeks and licking that throbbing vein. You let him brush the back of your throat a few times, never gagging, only crying out with pleasure at the press of him. 

And Bucky’s moans… God, you could forgo music for the rest of your life and listen only to those noises his made. 

Wanting more, more of those delicious moans and growls from him, you relaxed the muscles in your throat, pushing him down all the way until your nose was once again brushing his curls. 

It was hard to distinguish your moan from his, the way his hands yanked hard in your hair, your fingers digging into his ass cheeks to force him deeper down your throat. You took a deep breath in through your nose, moaning at the heady scent of him as it pervaded your sense. 

More, - you wanted to take him deeper and deeper until you couldn’t speak tomorrow without feeling him there. 

You slid a hand down, grasping his balls once again and you palmed them, massaging and tugging them as you shook your head lightly against him, making him rock against your windpipe.

“Fuck!” Bucky’s head tilted back, his rough moan bouncing off the elaborately decorated walls and his legs trembled, signalling how close he was, how thoroughly you were hauling him toward that edge. 

You felt his balls tighten in your hand, felt how close he was so you squeezed them harder and at the same time, swallowed around the thick length of him.  

A broken version of your name echoed above your, both of his hands tightening in your hair so fiercely, you feared he might snap a bone. “Shit, shit-” His hips jerked forward and then he shattered apart, exploding in hot ropes down your throat. 

You heard him mutter an apology, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care because he tasted divine. 

You drew back slowly, pumping him a few times with your free hand until he was gasping in a ragged breath, his legs threatening to give way, so with a gentle judge, you pushed him back on the bed. 

He plopped down weakly, watching with wide eyes as you lifted your head, wiping the corner of your mouth with a feline grin. “Sweetheart, that was-“

A finger to his lips cut him off, “Oh, no no. I’m not done with you yet, Buck.” You quickly rid him of his shirt, revealing the broad plane of his shoulders and chest and then you urged him up the bed. As he lay back, you climbed on top of him, rising up on your knees. “I believe you made me come… three times was it?” 

And that was when James Buchanan Barnes whimpered. A sound of pure carnal need and anticipation. 

You grinned at him, reaching behind your chest to unclasp the delicate bra, before sliding it from your shoulders and throwing it to the side of the room. “I intend to repay the favour, and then some, Soldier.” You reached down for both his hands, placing them on your breasts. One warm, one icy cold. 

Both your moans echoed in tandem, especially when he tightened his hands, squeezing and pulling at the soft flesh. “So beautiful…” He mumbled the words lowly, his voice a rough rasp and his ministrations caused you to arch your back further into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of pleasure. 

But not for too long, because you soaked through the lace of your underwear, and you might well have been dripping down your thigh at this point. Dropping a hand, you moved your underwear to the side, before gliding your fingers through your glistening folds. 

Yep, you were right. 

“All of this is for you, Bucky. Because of how good you tasted in my mouth.” You moaned delicately, eyelashes fluttering as you circled your clit a few times, “How thick you were in my throat.” You gathered some of your wetness on your fingertips, before pressing them to Bucky’s lips, “See...”

He wasted no time in drawing your fingers into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the skin and cleaning every single millimetre. He seemed determined to pay you back, to try and make you feel some of the desperation he had felt. 

You let it go, only because the combination of his hands pulling at your nipples and his hot tongue sliding between your fingers. You lowered down, resting over his already hardened length before dragging up and down it a few times, coating him in your slick. Low moans came from your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you rocked yourself against him, waiting for him to recover for round two. 

He soon groaned around your fingers, earning you a muffled, “Baby.” In an impatient tone as he twitched underneath you, hard and throbbing again.

Fine, you could give in. 

You grasped his cock, before rising up and then lowering back down, taking him in. 

Every single damn inch of him. 

The stretch of your walls was painfully delicious, making you throw your head back and cry out softly, a low keen until you were seated on his thighs again. He was buried to the hilt inside of you and you could feel him everywhere. In your belly, in your toes, in your spine even. 

Bucky’s back arched off of the bed, teeth clamping down on your fingers and his hands tightening on your breasts, before falling to your thighs where his fingertips dug into the soft flesh, “Fucking hell.” He gasped in a breath, lowering his head, “Look at me.” 

The words were choked as you dropped your chin, meeting his eyes and the look int hem nearly floored you. 

Near midnight blue with desire and lust, but they glinted like the night sky, full of admiration and… adoration of you. Complete and utter adoration. 

Shit.

You stayed where you were for a second, speechless from the look of unbarred emotion on his face as the pair of you adjusted. Bucky soon swallowed, croaking again, “Move, darlin’ – please, move.” 

Well, you didn’t need telling twice. 

You rose up off him a few inches, before dropping back down with enough force to sear your spine in half. You quickly set an earth-shattering pace, rising up before sinking back down, his hips rising to meet you and push that little bit further inside. 

Once again, the room filled with the scent of sex, the symphony of your bodies gliding with each other, mixed with Bucky’s rough moans and mutterings and your keening cries. 

His hands grasped your hips, tight enough to bruise even with his right hand, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be marked, you wanted to feel him tomorrow. 

And you wanted to mark him too. 

You dropped down over his body, bringing him for a messy, deep kiss that was all stroking tongues and teeth. 

He groaned into your mouth when you rotated your hips around him, this new angle causing your clit to drag against his firm muscles and rough curls. 

The sensation was absolutely mind-blowing, and you dragged your mouth from his to bite at his jaw and neck, swearing against his hot skin, “Fucking hell, Bucky, you feel so good. You have no idea how good you feel – filling me up. So big-” The words were stumbly, broken sentences but you knew he understood them because he matched them. 

Telling you how tight you were, how deep you were taking him. How good you looked fucking yourself and taking what you deserved – it was all yours. 

You soon felt the pressure build in your lower back and belly, at the same time Bucky’s hips were snapping up into yours with more urgency. Quickly, you dragged yourself back to sit up, and began to ride him with wild abandon. His left hand came up to yours, giving you an anchor as you fucked him relentlessly, making the pair of you cry out with wordless groans of ecstasy. 

To Bucky, you looked like – no, you were a goddess. Your body moving with carnal grace, head thrown back and those gorgeous moans and curses falling from your parted lips. 

To him… there would never be a more beautiful sight. 

Just as you began to grind your hips in circles with each downward motion, words started to spill from those plush lips, like he wasn’t in control, “You have no idea how much I wanted to tear Zemo apart tonight. His hands all over you – they shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be touched like that.” 

His lips parted wider for a moment, his hips thrusting up to meet your circular motions and it made the head of his cock thud against that spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves through your spine. 

Your whimpering plea spurred him on, kept him hitting that spot with hard pressure that threatened to tear you to pieces, “You’re a goddess - Not a fucking piece of arm candy. The sight of him touching you-” He snarled, pulling you down hard on his dick for a second, taking the opportunity to rotate his own hips this time, “That should be me. Worshipping you. Not him.” 

His rough words and the sheer intensity of his thrusted hurtled you closer and closer to that edge, the admissions sending just as much pleasure through you as his hard length. 

That should be me.

Did he mean…?

You looked down through hazed eyes, like you were seeing all of this with a fresh gaze. 

Bucky was already a mess beneath you, his head tilted back, and the line of his throat held taught. His deep curls with a mess, ruffled up over his forehead and the pillows. 

Beautiful. 

Bucky’s hips were starting to lose rhythm as he jerked up into you, but he never failed to repeatedly hit that spot, again and again. 

You both chased down your orgasms, and with one final grind of your hips, one final sharp jerk of his own, you fell to pieces in tandem. 

Bucky’s back arched, freezing as he spurted his hot load up inside you, at the same time your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as your combined wetness slipped down his balls, making a mess of his skin – and the bed. 

Like either of you could care. 

Time lost all meaning yet again as you came down from your high, and later, you’d remember only by the places your bodies occupied. 

Bucky hauled you up, finished with the lack of control and he took you against the floor to ceiling windows, your breasts pressed to the cool glass, the city twinkling below you as Bucky fucked you deep from behind, that vibranium hand against fitted snug around your throat. 

Then on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his dick sliding down your throat again as his tongue dragged between your folds, your knees braced either side of his head as you held onto his thighs. 

When you retired to the sunken tub to wash up, you found yourself seated on Bucky’s lap, riding him once more with the hot, jasmine scented water splashing over the ornate tiles, your combined moans mingling with the steamy air. 

The whole time, Bucky’s words played over and over in your head, echoing in the tiny space of your mind that wasn’t sex-addled. 

He wanted to be the one to walk into a club with you on his arm. He wanted everyone in the room to know he worshipped the very ground you walked on, the air that you breathed. 

It wasn’t like the feelings weren’t reciprocated either. 

It had been the blue-eyed soldier in the forefront of your mind for months and months now, perhaps even far before that. 

And it wasn’t until you were back on the bed, covers strewn on the floor that things truly shifted. 

Bucky’s hands were gripping your thighs, pulling you down to fuck his face and tongue whilst you gripped onto the headboard, his groans of delight muffled against your wet heat. 

The feeling was… other-worldly. 

Your sexual partners of the past had gone down on you, sure. You’d even been in this exact position once, but it was nothing compared to Bucky. 

No one worked you over with the same acute knowledge of what you liked, before you even knew it yourself. 

His nose nudged against your clit, providing the perfect pressure whilst he spearheaded his tongue deep within you. Every time he did, he pulled you lower, shaking his head from side to side so that his stubble scratched your sensitive inner thighs and your swollen folds.  

Words were beyond you, and all you could do was make incoherent moans and keens, sure the people in the rooms surrounding yours could hear your screams, but you didn’t care. 

Especially when Bucky dragged his teeth over your clit, ever so lightly biting it and causing you to hurtle into the outer atmosphere and forget everything.  

You collapsed, losing the tension in your legs and only Bucky’s hands shooting up to your ribs stopped you from smashing your forehead on the wall. 

Light exploded across your vision, your blood roaring in your ears and you couldn’t move, your body was completely boneless. You were truly spent, muscles twitching with aftershocks and you only just noticed Bucky coaxing you to lay down next to him. 

You faded in and out of a warm haze, registering a warm cloth gliding between your legs, over your flushed skin. 

“Go on a date with me.” 

The soft words underlined with that oh-so familiar rasp brought you rushing back to the present. “You... what?” 

“Go on a date with me.”

You snapped your eyes open, only to be met with the Arctic ocean, almost glowing from within with sated desire. 

Curling your lips up into a smile, you gently dragged Bucky’s head down to yours, pressing your lips to his equally swollen ones, “Okay.” 

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Content note: This episode has a lot of lightning, but this post does not have lightning flashes--I’m using mostly stills for those parts, or I’ve snipped out the unfriendly frames before giffing.

Qing-Jie

Having successfully ruined Jin Guangshan’s party plan to get the Yin Tiger seal, Wei Wuxian dashes off to tell Wen Qing where her brother is. She hops up to hit the road with him, but then sorta-faints because she’s starving. In a rare moment of tenderness between these two, he catches her and gently sits her down again. 

Normally they’re busy out-toughing each other, both before and after this moment, but right now Wen Qing is openly vulnerable. Wei Wuxian responds to that, predictably, with all of his kindness and with his usual slew of unwise, impossible-to-keep promises.

As she eats the bread he’s brought her--a parallel to an important piece of bread in his early life--he says they have to believe in Wen Ning’s survival. Cut to: Wen Ning, not surviving. 

I mean, yes, yes, he’s only mostly dead, but he’s never going to be fully alive again, so.  

24 Hour Party People

Back at the party, Jin Guangyao, deliberately, I think, goes to offer his pops a drink while his pops is still super furious and looking for someone to take it out on. The servant lady is like, better you than me, pal, and helps JGY get his drink ready. Pops, predictably, knocks the drink onto Jin Guangyao.

(more behind the cut)

Lan Xichen is standing by with a hanky and a face full of worry. Lan Xichen is so Lanny that he thinks JGY needs to go change clothes after getting clear alcohol spilled on him, rather than just letting it evaporate and smelling pleasantly of booze for the rest of the evening like a normal party guest. 

JGY launches into a criticism of Wei Wuxian, which Lan Wangji listens to very carefully, frowning. Lan Xichen, Nie Huasang and Jiang Cheng listen as well, and don’t speak up. 

A Clear Conscience

Then Lan Wangji *literally* steps out of his brother’s shadow, and speaks in defense of Wei Wuxian. This right here is Lan Wangji’s turning point, as far as I’m concerned. Xichen is gazing at JGY, totally on board with JGY’s spin of the situation, and his shadow falls away from Lan Wangji’s face as LWJ steps forward.

Lan Wangji says, isn’t what WWX said true? JGY puts on his customer service smile and says that the truth isn’t something you’re supposed to go around saying out loud. 

I’d like to say this is what’s wrong with cultivator society but this is really a universal human thing; every society has rules about upsetting the social order, and they are very frequently at odds with basic compassion and morality. 

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng stay silent but Lan Xichen goes and throws Wei Wuxian under the bus carriage, saying his character has changed. 

Lan Wangji nods decisively at this, and bows to Lan Xichen, silently asking permission to follow Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen grants permission, telling Lan Wangji to do his best. Lan Xichen probably thinks he and Lan Wangji are in agreement, in this moment, but that nod of Lan Wangji’s was nothing of the kind.

That nod was Lan Wangji agreeing with himself; he is going to try to bring Wei Wuxian back but he is also going to listen to him.  Meanwhile Lan Xichen is tying himself in knots to appease Jin Guangyao. The divergence between the brothers will just grow, from this point onwards.

Lan Wangji leaves to go follow his boyfriend conscience, while Jiang Cheng continues to silently listen to the commentary of others, and gets so mad he crushes a wine cup.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night.

Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian arrive at the prison camp, and the first person they encounter is Granny, with a defaced Wen Banner in her hand and Wen Yuan on her back. 

Whenever I read a meta or a fic that talks about how the juniors are so sweet partly because they are “untouched by the war” I want to point to this moment. A-Yuan endures an absolute truckload of war trauma by the time he’s four years old, and while Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both deserve a lot of credit for saving him at great risk to themselves, Granny and Uncle Four are the first heroes of A-Yuan’s story. His kind, mellow personality has a lot in common with theirs. 

This is followed by an eternity of Wen Qing running around asking if anyone’s seen her brother. Eventually Wei Wuxian gets tired of this and gathers the guards together, threatening them with Chenqing. 

He doesn’t need to play it; just holding it up has every Jin dude instantly kneeling and scared. 

The guards send him and Wen Qing go to a giant field of corpses, where Wen Qing runs around checking to see if any of them is her brother. Wei Wuxian starts off kind of detached and angry, but eventually snaps out of it, tucks away his flute and starts helping her to search. 

Wen Qing finds Wen Ning, mostly-dead with a lure flag speared into his belly. Wei Wuxian grimly takes in the situation from across the field of corpses. 

When he arrives at Wen Qing’s side he sees this talisman in Wen Ning’s hand. 

This is the talisman that Wei Wuxian made for Wen Ning back in Gusu summer school, before the war. It’s the one that Wen Ning was wearing at his waist when they met up after the massacre of Lotus Pier. It’s supposed to literally protect Wen Ning from having his spiritual consciousness snatched, as well as being a symbol of Wei Wuxian’s sense of responsibility for, and affection for, Wen Ning. 

Wei Wuxian, understandably, loses his shit at this point. Less understandably, he is about to decide that the best way to express his sorrow and rage is to re-animate the corpse of his friend, right in front of the corpse’s sister. Like, seriously, dude. Dude. 

Ghost General

This super-questionable decision leads to one of the most badass sequences in the show, which is unfortunately chock full of lightning flashes, so not everyone can watch it. Wei Wuxian and his flute and swirls of resentful energy come marching out of the darkness of the corpse field, back to the guards. 

The guards have decided to slaughter all of the prisoners and then run away, which would be a good plan except they should really have skipped right to the running away part of things. When Wei Wuxian accuses them of killing the prisoner in the corpse field, they claim that the Wens have a habit of falling off of a hill and dying. Wei Wuxian can relate. 

At this point Wei Wuxian summons up Wen Ning 2.0, ultra badass edition, who comes flying through the air with his odd, straight-armed fighting stance and cool solid-black eyes and rock-and-roll hair. 

Soundtrack: *Four Sticks*

Wen Ning proceeds to whale on the guards and scare the shit out of his relatives.

Then Wen Qing shows up and begs Wei Wuxian to stop. She explains that Wen Ning is only mostly dead. Like, if he was fully dead would she be okay with this? 

Wei Wuxian tries to reel Wen Ning in and realizes that he is not actually in control of Wen Ning. Ok, see, right from the first day of Wen Ning 2.0, WWX is aware that his control is iffy. Why does he think he’s going to be able to control him later? 

Anyway, this is where we learn Wen Ning’s grown-up name is Wen Qionglin. Wei Wuxian yells this name, and Wen Ning looks up like a cat hearing the “food noise,” and then proceeds to get control of himself. 

This is such a nice symbolic moment, that will be replayed later in the temple, when Wen Ning saves Jin Ling from Baxia. 

Wen Ning has a remote-code-execution OS vulnerability throughout the story; his soul is at risk of being stolen, and he is magically controlled by Wei Wuxian, Xue Yang, Su She, and Baxia.  Meanwhile Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian, and random kids on the street mostly treat him as a child, despite his clear adult capabilities. Wen Ning’s journey in The Untamed is at least partly about asserting his full adulthood, and his ability to overcome magical control is directly connected to that journey.  

After getting Wen Ning to chill, Wei Wuxian calls the floating resentful energy back into his own body, which looks about as comfortable as swallowing a burp. 

On the plus side, apparently resentful energy keeps your hair dry even when it’s raining.

Wei Wuxian should take a page from the guards’ book and slaughter all the Jin witnesses to this situation, but he decides to be the better person and let them live. They go running off down the road, where they encounter Lan Wangji and give him the 411, saying that Wei Wuxian resurrected dead people.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian collects Wen Qing--half-fainted, again, in an echo of the start of their journey--and collects the Dafan Mountain Wen group, who are hiding, wisely. When they see Wen Ning, Uncle Four and some others start to freak out, but Wei Wuxian tells them that fierce corpses are cool, and they all grab horses and mount up.

Where Are You Going?

Lan Wangji is waiting for them, nonconfrontationally indulging in some visual poetry while he waits. 

In a show where every prop is exquisitely, carefully designed to enhance our understanding character, his Gusu-toned umbrella reveals surprising red and yellow threads woven in, right above his eye line as he looks at Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian speaks first, saying “you came to stop me?” Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, but asks him where he’s going. Then Lan Wangji warns him that he’s about to abandon orthodoxy forever, if he follows through. 

Wei Wuxian challenges this idea of orthodoxy, asking if Lan Wangji remembers the promise they made together, back in Gusu. It’s worth noting that they both appear to think of it as a co-promise, even though Lan Wangji didn’t speak aloud at the time. 

The conversation will continue in the next episode, because what’s better than a rainy romantic cliffhanger?

Soundtrack: Four Sticks by Led Zeppelin

[esc-is-holding-me-hostage]

 I'm finally done with writing my opinions on this year's songs! This post took way too much time and it's not even as funny as I hoped it would be :/

Anyway, enjoy.

Albania

When the revamp was announced, I was afraid that they'll have to get rid of some of the best parts of the song (like the opening chanting and that RRRRAAAAA), but not only they kept all of them, they even added a new drop, without removing the old one. And it works! Yeah, it's still a structural mess but it works!

Wish it was left fully in Albanian though. I also wish I had thighs like those...

 Armenia

Well, guess now we know the answer to "Will Armenia win ESC right after winning JESC". The answer is no, obviously.

But whatever, Snap is fine. It's pleasant and inoffensive. Which seems to be a recurring theme this year.

 Australia

He's a good singer, and there are genuine emotions put into the performance but I find the song really boring.

 Austria

It's alright, but I'm worried about how it'll gonna sound live, her voice sounds really processed.

Update: I originally wrote about Austria when only the studio version was available, but now the live vocals have been heard, and I was right. The girl can't keep up with the song at all.

 Azerbaijan

And once again, Azerbaijan gives us a song that could be sung by literally anyone. Are Azerbaijani artists forced to sign a contract specifying that they can't show any bit of their personality or their country's culture at Eurovision?

Belgium

Belgium has decided to shake up the formula a bit for the first time since 2017. Too bad that was a formula I really loved.

I genuinely don't have anything to say about Miss You, sorry. Pleasant and inoffensive once again.

 Bulgaria

A lot of people seem to genuinely dislike Intention but in my opinion it doesn't deserve any strong emotions. There is nothing to hate and nothing to love. Just some mediocre, toothless dad rock. Guitar solo is kinda cool tho.

 Croatia

Booooring. I'd call it pleasant and inoffensive too, but the lyrics rub me the wrong way. So, pleasant and a tiny bit offensive?

 Cyprus

Ela doesn't sound like it was written specifically for Eurovision and I mean it in a best way possible. It's still not really my thing, but at this point I'm just happy that Cyprus has given us something different from the usuual.

 Czech Republic

It's fine, just Czech Republic sending their trademark modern pop stuff.

 Denmark

The ballad part in the beginning does not need to take up a third of the runtime. Otherwise it's... cute?

 Estonia

Who would've thought that an Armenian guy from Estonia will give us a better country song than any of a dozen country artists at ASC?

 Finland

Ok, that guitar riff slaps. Then the lyrics start. Honestly, half of  them sound like placeholder lyrics someone put there just to keep the rhyme and then forgot to change them. "Killer shark in heels", my god. Also that tiger roar followed by a Johnny Test whip sound never fails to make me chuckle.

 France

You've heard of Slavic spring-worshiping rave in the woods.

Now get ready for Celtic devil-worshiping rave in the woods!

Fulenn slaps, I love it.

 Georgia

Gotta love how Georgia just keeps doing whatever the fuck they want, qualification chances be damned. That said, I respect what they're doing more than I like it.

 Germany

People weren't lying, it IS like Stressed Out but lame.

 Greece

Bittersweet love songs are just *chef's kiss*. Some people find Die Together creepy, but I think that it perfectly encapsulates young love in all of its overdramatization.

However, I like the lyrics more than the song as a whole. The first half is just a bit of a drag.

 Iceland

Oh, I love this one. It just feels so cosy and wintery, I can almost feel the cold wind on my face.

Ireland

Favourite "bop" of the year.

 Israel

This is probably the most flamboyant song I've ever seen at Eurovision, but there isn't anything else I can say about it.

 Italy

Okay, I know I've just said how much I love bittersweet love songs, but Brividi isn't really making it for me. Maybe it's because we have so many sad boy songs this year, maybe because I don't like falsettos, maybe because I had a clear favorite at Sanremo and still salty they didn't win, dunno. It's just alright for me.

 Latvia

I'm convinced that people who unironically love this song only do so because they're vegetarians/surface level environmentalists.

That said, I don't hate Eat Your Salad. Yeah, the chorus is repeated waaay to many times, but the song is fun, it has a sax solo, which is always a good thing and yes, it has that goddamn gutpunch of an opening line.

I BET they came up with the pussy line first and then based the whole song around it. And the way it's pronounced, jeez. The smugness is fucking palpable, you KNOW the guy is saying it with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face without even seeing him.

 Lithuania

I didn't get the hype around this one during PiN, but it grew on me.

 Malta

So instead of revamping a decent-ish song they had, they just threw the whole song out and replaced it with the blandest self-empowerment song they could find in the dumpster behind Melfest's HQ, huh? Ingenious plan, what could go wrong?

 Moldova

Is it the weakest out of Zdob si Zdub's entries? Yes. Does it still make me wanna dance? Yes.

Look, I'm from Eastern Europe, I'm basically genetically programmed to like this kind of music.

 Montenegro

Hey, Montenegro, glad to have you back, love the outfit in the music video. Oh, the song? It's also there, I guess.

 Netherlands

Okay, if I'm not gonna get my yearly fix of dark and moody™ pop from Belgium this year, I'll get it from their neighbors! I like it, but I  wish they went with Dans Mij Naar Huis instead.

 North Macedonia

It's very bland and mediocre, but I have to give Circles a pass, because at least it's not Superman.

 Norway

It wants to be a joke song but it misses a certain je ne sais quoi, the DIY charm of the best ESC joke songs. It's basically a prep cosplaying as a nerd. It's way to polished and professionally-produced to the point that the only thing that separates it from "normal" songs is the costume gimmick.

 Poland

I guess I like it slightly more that the rest of the sad boy ballads we're plagued by this year. Slightly.

 Portugal

I fucking love the instrumentation on this one.

 Romania

It's a song.

 San Marino

Is San Marino just gonna send horny Italians from now on? I mean, I'm not complaining.

P.S. if I see one more "Achille is just a Måneskin copycat" post, I'm gonna fucking scream.

 Serbia

Watching Konstrakta's performance with subtitles is an experience. But same as with Georgia. I respect it more than like it.

 Slovenia

It sounds surprisingly... Japanese. To the point that having lyrics in Slovenian almost feels wrong. I wish the guy had a bit more emotion in his voice though.

 Spain

I've said it before and I'll say it again. THIS is the true successor to Fuego, this is what Cyprus has been desperately trying to recreate.

 Sweden

Me? Liking Sweden? It's more likely than you think.

It's not groundbreaking for Sweden or anything, it's still a well-produced, professionally made Swedish pop, but I like it way more than any of the Sweden's previous entries from the past 10 years. Probably because it is, again, a bittersweet love song, and I have a soft spot for those.

 Switzerland

The pauses between words in this one really test the limits of my attention span.

 Ukraine

A song in Ukrainian for the third year in a row, thank God! (Not because I'm particularly patriotic, but because our singers apparently aren't allowed to have good English pronunciation)

 United Kingdom

It's better than what UK usually sends but not "Top 5 in the odds" better.

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Chapter One - I definitely, Absolutely DO NOT Live In A Group Home! What Are You Talking About?! (Okay, yeah, I do.)

(2,638 words)

Atsushi’s Perspective: 

I watch the tiger beetles crawl by one at a time. They form a line, order in the chaos, sunlight glinting off their backs.

There’s an older boy, Tatsuhiko-kun, who likes to light them on fire with a magnifying glass or even just matches. He scares me, his long unruly white hair as unnatural as his bright red eyes and pale skin. He’s a bully, we call him a vampire behind his back. I think even the directors are scared of him . . . and I’m his favourite target.

My watch shows it’s five minutes until my online lesson with my tutor so I gather my things and head back inside. I’m officially back in the trap, and I choose to walk in here. I laugh at my own patheticness. But it’s not like I want to be here, it’s just that I have nowhere else to go. The streets are full of bandits and broken glass and people worse than bandits.

The care home is a giant house, all the “extra” rooms with the expectation of the dining room the kitchen and the study turned into bedrooms for us kids. There were four bedrooms to begin with and a spare room was turned into a nursery for the youngest, while the basement is storage. Each bedroom now holds six children, two towers with three bunks each per room. It’s rather cramped and we’re always fighting for blankets and closet space. We fight for everything actually, the smallest trinkets to keep to ourselves and life-saving resources, including food and seats at the dining table. The directors never try to stop us, just let us settle things ourselves. I have scars and scratches all over my body and even a few burns from the scrimmages, but I can’t make myself win.

The youngest of us are skinnier than even I am, I can’t make myself kick and punch them. So whenever it comes to a fight with one of them I let them win, they know, everyone knows I go easy on the young ones. That only makes them come at me harder to prove they aren’t only winning because of my kindness. A girl with faux nails she probably stole from a shop raked her hands down my face digging in deeply. I’m lucky I still have my sight.

I used to feel guilty about kicking, punching and scratching anyone, even the older kids, but it’s what I have to do to survive. I was kicked and scratched too, I deserve to get a place at the table. Nobody wants to eat on the floor, the floor is cold and there are rats there. I think if I win enough then Tatsuhiko will leave me alone, maybe even take me in (not like I want to be around him but at least then I’d be with him instead of at his mercy).

I head to the director’s office, the only safe place in the house. Clean polished wood with a  desktop computer. The director dials the number for me and then leaves, laughing at me for wanting to keep the illusion.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun. How’s your week been?” Kunikida-san asks, he has no idea just what kind of week I’ve had. My shoulder aches from where an older boy twisted my arm nearly all the way back to keep me from getting the piece of fish he wanted.

“Oh, just the same as usual. At school, we’re learning to identify phases of mitosis in onion root tip cells and whitefish blastula. It’s really cool how you can the cells moving and stuff.” I keep my smile as bright as I can, I’m not a good liar but Kunikida has never seemed to suspect anything.

“Good, how are your parents? Is your mother better? Is your father back from his work trip yet?” he asks casually, not looking up from the papers he’s organising

I hate it when he does that, so easily asking questions that could break my entire ruse.

“Nope, you just missed him, he was home for a few days but he had to go to Shanghai for another meeting. Mum’s feeling much better, but she still napping right now so you probably won’t see her today.”

He sighs, looking a little frustrated, “Hmm, well I do hope I get to meet your parents eventually. I’m surprised they leave you alone so much.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it at all. I’m just fine. So what are we working on today?” I deflect

He looks surprised but pleased as he always does when I act so eager for the lessons, I suppose most kids hate maths. (I’m not an exception, but these lessons are my hour of freedom.)

-

The lesson goes great until the door opens and the director comes in to get me for dinner. I’m about to hang up when two of the boys barrel through the doors, the older one chasing the younger one, with a garden trowel in hand, obviously fighting. The director yells for us all to get out. I end the call and run away, the fury on the face of the director still burning in my peripheral vision. Maybe he won’t punish me.

-

I hide in the closet of my room that I was too big for three years ago. The door opens and I tumble out, falling prone on the floor in front of the director.

“Get up, boy! Sit!” He jabs his finger to the lowest bunk.

I hang my head to sit on it without bumping the bunk above.

“You’re going to call your tutor back and tell him how sorry you are that your siblings are such brats. We will not let others know what goes on here, it’s our private business. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I force the quaver out of my voice.

The director takes my hand in a way that could almost be friendly except for the fact that his grip cuts off my circulation and makes my hand burn. He locks the door, the deadbolt engaging tightly, and stands on the other side of the monitor as I dial Kunikida-san.

The man answered before the first ring.

“Oh my goddess, Atsushi-kun! Are you alright! I’ve been trying to reach you!”

I force a laugh, “Ah, Kunikida-san, don’t worry, I’m fine.” I show him my uninjured hand, “My siblings were just playing a game of tag that’s all, you know how it is with brothers.”

“Siblings? I thought you were an only child?” He asks, not realising what he’s just done. The director motions toward his cane, the one he uses to spank us. I haven’t been hit with the cane since I was ten.

“Um . . . I lied. I’m sorry, I just felt ashamed you know, because being a middle child with a cool older brother is so lame and all, and my younger brother does stuff that’s really embarrassing you know. Like, uh . . . telling everyone that I have to have a tutor. I didn’t want them all teasing me.” I know my voice sounds desperate, and I can tell he doesn’t buy it. And why did I say everyone? Should I clarify I mean my friends and not the fact that I live with a baker’s dozen other kids?

“I see? Well if your father is out, who was that shouting then?”

“My uhhh-uncle! My uncle, yeah, he came to stay to look after my siblings and me while my mum wasn’t feeling well. I promise I’m totally fine.”

“Oh. May I talk to him, I’d like to share your progress with someone at least?”

“No.” I say it too quickly and try to take a breath to calm myself without looking too suspicious, “He’s busy making us dinner and dealing with my brothers.”

If Kunikida-san believed me at all before he definitely doesn’t now. “I really would like to talk to him.”

“You can’t!” My voice starts to become strained with horror as I think of what would happen if the director talked to Kunikida-san.

Thankfully, I’m spared an answer when the other directors knock, the rhythmic knock they use when there’s big trouble. There must be really big trouble because the directors run towards the living room, leaving me. It’s stupid to rebel but I jump up and lock the door again, breathing hard. I want to dink onto the floor and cry but Kunikida-san is still on the line. I should hang up, I should. He has no idea where I am and he’s in a different part of the country so there’s no way he’d be able to tell anyone and get me in trouble with the director, but for some reason, I don’t hang up.

“What are the names of your siblings, the ones that came in earlier today?”

What? Why? Why is it that out of all the kids in this wretched place the few ones I don’t know the names of had to come in here? Should I just make up some names? 

I must have hesitated for too long because he speaks again, “Atsushi-kun, are you alone?”

Why is he asking that? “Y-yes?”

“Okay, now tell me, honestly, what is really going on?”

“N-nothing.”

“Atsushi-kun, I’ve ignored a lot of things. The way your parents are never around and the fact that you seem to have new injuries every time I’ve seen you, waiting for you to tell me when you felt comfortable. But I can’t ignore this any longer. You seem scared out of your mind, are your parents abusing you?”

The words slip out, a single sentence ruining everything.

“Don’t say that, they were good people!”

“Were?”

Shit, oh crap, oh shit!

The anger boils up inside of me rising like a tiger about to pounce, “My parents are dead, okay! Dead, gone! Forever.” I breathe deep, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The directors always told me, not matter what I do, DO NOT get angry.

Kunikida-san’s face changes to one of kindness, the hard professional expression falling away. “Are you living in a group home?”

I feel like I’m on a mountain, the air much colder and thinner. Why did I say that? How do I fix this? I’ve never told anyone that I’m in a group home, even my school friends. I’d hate to trouble them with worrying about me. Now what?

“Yes.” I finally say

“For how long?”

“As long as I can remember.”

He sighs a heavy sigh, “Well, damn.” It’s the first time I’ve heard him swear. “And you haven’t been adopted?”

“Adopted?” the unfamiliar word sits funny on my tongue.

“Yes, taken in by another family. You’d live with them and they’d care for you and raise you. It’s a legal word which means you’d be their child not only emotionally but legally as well, on their insurance plans and they’d deal with your healthcare and schooling.”

“That’s a thing?!” I ask surprised, a look of horror crosses Kunikida-san’s face.

“Did you not know? Don’t people come and visit the children?”

“No, sometimes new kids come, but no adults have ever been here besides the directors.”

He doesn’t say anything for a full minute, fuming. I’ve never seen him so upset. So now he’s angry at me as well. I want to cry. I know I should hang up before the directors come back, but I don’t.

“Atsushi-kun, you’re seventeen right?”

“Yeah, my birthday was a week ago.” I only know my birthday because of my school records, we never celebrate.

“ . . . the legally, you can leave. Why don’t you come and stay with me, if you want to of course?”

The words are so different from what I expected that my own words can’t form. “What? You’re not angry?”

“No, of course not, why would I be?”

“You just look mad.” I say shyly

“I am, but not at you. I just can’t believe that a care home could be run so poorly. It’s a care home’s responsibility to make sure that the children find good homes.”

“ . . . I didn’t know.” I say stupidly.

“So, what do you think?”

“I- You want me? You don’t have to take me just because you think you have to.”

“I do have to, it’s my duty as an adult, but I also want to. You’re a great kid, smart and kind. It’s probably too late for you to find a foster family because you’re almost an adult but I’ll be happy to take care of you until you go off to university.”

University? I can’t even imagine it. I’ve never considered that someone like me could go to university. My eyes are filling with tears before I can stop them.

“You mean it?”

“Of course. My roommate, Katai and I live in Yokohama. Where are you?”

“Tokyo.”

“Alright, that’s only about an hour’s distance. I’m coming to get you.”

“Thank you.”

He turns calling to someone over his shoulder, “Katai, come here?”

“Yeah, Doppo?” A scruffy man with huge round glasses comes up behind Kunikida-san. There’s a red futon draped over his shoulders.

“Can you track this IP address?”

“Of course I can, but why? Have you suddenly decided to become a hacker as well?”

“This is serious,  I’m adopting another child.”

The man looks vaguely surprised but doesn’t question it. He stares at the screen. It’s a bit creepy.

“Oh, sorry, I’m using my ability.”

“Ability?”

Kunikida-san tries his best to hide the “Yes, certain people have them. Katai can control any technology within his sight. He’s tracking the location of the computer your on right now so I can find you.”

“That’s so cool.”

The man in question smiles.

“Done.” he hands Kunikida-san a piece of paper.

“See you soon, Atsushi-kun. Stay safe.”

“I will.” 

I don’t want to end the call but I know I’ll see Kunikida-san soo so  I do, tears spilling down my cheeks. 

I unlock the door, peeking out, but there’s nobody around. I hear screams from the backyard. A whole group canning spree. There must have been a brawl and now the directors are punishing everybody. Feeling like a coward I slip out the front door, and creep down the driveway the setting sun at my back. There’s no point going back to get anything. None of us owns anything besides our school uniforms, which the directors keep safe in a special closet for us. 

There are barely enough clothes for all of us and they’re shared, we fight for anything we can find in our size. I’m one of the few older boys but I’m skinny so I can wear smaller clothes. I don’t have much competition but the boys I would have to fight could easily kill me if they felt like it. I’m so tired that most of the time I end up wearing the same thing for days on end. I hate fighting for things I don’t need to survive (food & water), I’m a coward and I’m perfectly happy to take whatever clothes no one wants. Most of the time I end up with the same thing, a torn white collared shirt, which I keep from falling off my shoulders with suspenders, trousers that are too short for me, and this belt that’s way too long for anyone to wear. I have to wrap it around me three times so the other kids don’t pull on it. 

Thankfully I’m still in my school uniform, the nicest clothes I have by far. I find my loafers, which I’d left on the mud mat by the door, and they’re the only reason I don’t cry out in pain from the sharp gravel driveway.

I climb a tree easily and wait to be saved just like I used to do when I was a kid, only this time I know someone is actually coming.

Vampires Beneath The Moonlight (SSKK)

Atsushi’s parents are dead and he's lived in a group home for as long as he can remember. Because he hates being a bother, he’s been hiding it from everyone, but when he slips up and says something to his maths tutor on a Zoom call his cover is blown.

His tutor convinces him to come to stay with him and his roommate, Katai, and finish his last two years of high school in their city. He’s 17 so he can legally leave the home. He then makes the journey to Yokohama and meets a certain eyebrowless boy and the rest of the mysterious Mori family, but are they as human as they seem? (of course not!)

(A/N: I finally started the SSKK Twilight AU!)