#I am turned rotten so impressive!

[thetoyboxs]

This is just. So awesome. Honestly! Style studies are the greatest and Snarky Warriors is so absolutely real and I've love the replication of my style here. So funky, so fun. Everyone elses is so cool.

Hanging this up on the fridge. So Cool.

Artist studies!

I decided to try and draw in different lu artists styles! it ended up being really fun and I learned a lot.

Artists:

@mizaruwu @ovegakart @raycatz @mirensiart @luwyv @thetoyboxs @lampssshade @sea-salt-lemon-sugar

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

[sodamnradd]

“Those are rotten for you.”

Draco jumped, startled by Granger’s presence. He hadn’t heard her coming. How alarming. He needed to be switched on at all times.

A beat too late, he replied, “What do you reckon will kill me first? This,” he lifted the cigarette, “or the war?”

“They turn your teeth yellow.”

His grin bore no kindness. “Who am I trying to impress?”

He’d joined The Order three weeks ago, shared this house with her for eight days, and this was the first time she’d approached him to chat. He was in no mood.

She shouldered past him into the house. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

-

Granger reached for his cigarette, incensed. “Put that out! They’ll see it.”

He stretched his hand beyond her reach. “We’re bait. Our job is to be seen.”

“Not so obviously.” She Accio’d the cigarette and extinguished it in a huff. “It’s like you want us to get killed.”

Why was she here? She was too crucial for this role. Too valuable to have Draco, the team pariah, as her back up. If he screwed up, she could die.

She didn’t, of course, because when the crack of Apparation shattered the silence, they fought fiercely side by side.

-

A stone skittered down the cliff face and Draco glanced up to find Granger approaching. She swung her legs over the ledge, sitting beside him.

“Can I have some of that?” Her knuckles were dirt-stained. Tears shiny on her cheeks.

He passed her the cigarette.

She took a generous drag, handed it back to him, then put her head between her hands and began to sob.

He didn’t know how to comfort her.

What was another casualty during war? But Granger internalized every death as if she’d committed it herself.

He offered her another drag.

She wound her arms around him instead, as if the offering had been an invitation to seek comfort from him, and buried her face in his chest.

He stiffened. Flicked the cigarette over the edge of the cliff. Then, gradually, placed his arm around her.

The sun slipped behind the endless woods and still they sat there.

-

Draco stubbed his cigarette beneath his shoe and lit another, pacing back and forth.

“I should be at the Forest of Dean tonight,” he said the moment Kingsley entered the room.

“You’re needed here,” replied Kingsley without give.

“Granger and I have been partners for weeks—”

“We’ve told you not to get comfortable—”

“That’s utter bollocks!”

“She’ll be fine,” interrupted Ginny. “She’s with Ron.”

Draco blew smoke in her face.

“Prick,” she spat, storming away.

-

“It’s not that deep,” insisted Granger. But her voice told him otherwise.

He sent her up to his room. Furiously nicking Blood-Replenishing potion and bandages from the emergency supply.

He cleaned the wound on her arm and wrapped it meticulously. Fuming when she flinched. He would strangle Kingsley with his bare hands. This was why they couldn’t be apart.

As Granger slept, Draco smoked through a pack, never taking his eyes off her. What if the spell had slashed an artery? What if it had been a different curse?

There was no freedom in war, but nobody would stand between him and this witch ever again.

-

He was sharing a dart with Susan Bones when Granger entered the yard.

Unaware they had company, Bones boldly suggested, “I’m down to fuck, if you are.”

Draco watched Granger’s eyes flick between them. Her mouth flattened, and she left wordlessly.

“I’ve got someone,” he said, watching her shadow retreat. He didn’t yet, but hopefully soon.

-

Granger said, “Will you brush your teeth?” as Draco discarded his cigarette.

He considered saying no, but decided it was in his best interest to listen.

In his very best interest, in fact, when she crawled onto his lap upon his return. Large brown eyes blinking up at him. “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.

He dipped forward to show her exactly what he’d wanted for weeks, but she pressed her fingers over his lips. “Are you sleeping with her?”

He knew who she meant, but still asked, “Who?”

“Susan.”

“Never. Nobody.” He kissed her fingers.

She replaced them with her mouth.

-

“Where are you going?” he growled, as Granger rolled out of bed. It was still dark.

“I’m being summoned.” She searched blindly for her bra, her knickers.

He checked his wand, finding it unnervingly cold. They were separating them again.

He grabbed her wrist, and she stumbled into his arms. “Draco!”

He kissed her deeply, breathlessly. “Run away with me.”

“But—"

“We’ll still fight,” he added, lighting a smoke. “On our own terms. They’re corrupt, Hermione. We’ll wind up dead with them.”

She hesitated. They had discussed this many times. Going rogue. There was more to be done without pseudo-authorities policing their moves. Plus, they couldn’t be apart anymore without losing their minds.

“On one condition,” she declared, snatching the cigarette from his fingers and flicking it away. “You’ll quit smoking.”

He watched it burn out. Then considered the witch in his bed. Perhaps she didn’t know it yet, but he would do anything for her.

Draco and Hermione were gone before sunrise.

(861 words, photo and prompt on twitter)

[shiftingparadise]

Soft Spot Part 12

Okay, so this is just ANGST. I want to redeem Chrollo in the next chapter though 😭

As promised @rotten-pomegranate, I hope you like this one as well, even though it isn't as sweet as the other chapter 🤍.

Word count: 1276

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (no smut)

“Fei?”, Chrollo’s eyes darted to Feitan’s. “What?”. “Our darling seems unharmed”. “So?”, Feitan frowned. “Hm”, Chrollo smirked, his eyes empty. “Fei?”. “What?”, Feitan gritted his teeth. “You’ll be joining the others on that heist tonight”. “W-what?”, Feitan’s eyes widened, “You didn’t tell me-“. “I’m still your boss, little Fei”, Chrollo coldly flipped through the book he was holding. “Tsk”, Feitan’s heart started to race. He didn’t want to be treated like a pet. “Oh, and pack your bags. Tonight’s only for gathering intel. You’ll stay at a hotel for a few days”.

Feitan didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave you alone.

“What about her? You’re going to hurt her, aren’t you?”. “Me?”, a smirk on his pale face, “Don’t be foolish. I’m not like you”. “Promise me-“. “What’s this, little Fei? Have you grown soft?”.

Feitan froze. Sure, Chrollo was a ruthless man, but that look in his eyes… It was the first time Feitan felt what it was like to be on his bad side.

“You don’t trust her with me?”. “No”, Feitan coldly answered. “Hm”, Chrollo closed his book, “I wanted you to punish her, but it seems you already forgave her little slip-up”.  “She learned her lesson”. “Did she?”, a cold chuckle, “You know there’s no point in lying to me”. “I-“. “Pack your stuff, little Fei. The driver will be here shortly”.

Feitan turned around. There wasn’t anything he could do. You got into this mess, and it didn’t matter how much he wanted to get you out of it, arguing with Chrollo would only fuel his anger even more.

“Where’s she?”. “In her room. Why? Want to wish her a nice evening like a good boyfriend?”. “Tsk”, Feitan tried to ignore the burning sensation in his chest.

Feitan hurried up the stairs, swinging the doors to your room open without warning.

“Darling?”, Feitan’s eyes darted across the room. “Y/N?!”. “Oh, is our darling missing?”, Chrollo’s cold voice came from behind. “What have you done? Where is she?!”. “I don’t know”, a smirk still plastered on his face. “Tell me”, Feitan’s nails digging into his palms. “I’m sure she’ll be back by the time you’re back”. “Where is she?”, Feitan tried to control his emotions. “Don’t worry, little Fei”, Chrollo smiled before disappearing into his room. Feitan knew it was futile to pursue this argument. Chrollo wouldn’t tell him where you were, and even if he tried to find out… “Fuck”, Feitan punched in the nearest wall, “You’ll only hurt her more if I try to go after her, won’t you?”. “Ding ding ding”, Chrollo was leaning against his doorframe, “Now go on, little Fei. Maybe next time you’ll learn to obey my orders, even when it’s about our darling”.

---

“W-where am I?”.

You were sitting on a chair, your hands tied behind your back.

“Hm, still as beautiful as ever”, an all too familiar voice rang through the dark. “H-huh”, you lifted your chin as you desperately tried to break free. “That won’t do”, footsteps drew closer, “My bungee gum doesn’t break, not even with skilled nen-users”. “H-hisoka?”, your eyes wide open. “Hm? You remember me?”, his nose brushed against your ear, “Well, I suppose I left a good impression then?”. “F-feitan and Chrollo-“. “Oh, no, no, no”, Hisoka faked a pout, “Your precious boyfriend put me up to this. I’m afraid no one will come to your rescue this time”. “That’s a lie”, your body shaking in fear. “Is it?”, Hisoka’s hand rested on your shoulder, “Let’s see…”.

Your breath hitched as the magician walked in front of you, his phone lighting up in the dark.

“Where is it…”, he scrolled through his phone, “Ah, here:  “Our darling acted out of place. I need you to remind her of what happens to greedy girls”. “N-no-“. “Hm”, a devilish smirk on his face as he held out his phone, “So, what do you say darling? Ready to teach your lesson?”.

---

“Had your fun?”, Chrollo’s voice faintly reached your ears. “She’s … Well”, Hisoka chuckled, “She’s extraordinary”. “Where’s she?”. “Where you left her”, Hisoka’s footsteps faded, “Oh, and I may have gone a bit too far”. “What do you mean? I told you to scare her. I told you that you couldn’t touch her”. “Well, I’m sure she’s scared”. “Hisoka?!”, Chrollo’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, but the magician was already gone.

He quickened his pace to the room he left you behind.

“Darling? Where are you?”.

You could hear his voice and an unmatched anger rose to your chest.

“Darling?!”, Chrollo’s eyes widened as he saw you curled up on the floor. “D-don’t touch me”, your voice faint. “Darling-“. “Don’t you dare”, your body started to shiver in anger and fear.

Chrollo’s eyes glided over your body. It was only then that he noticed your shirt was torn, and your skirt ripped, a tsunami of fear flooded over his heart.

“W-what did he do?”. “Leave me alone”. “Did he hurt you? Did he-“. “What if he did? You wanted me to learn my lesson, right?”, you darkly chuckled as you covered your head with your arms, “You’re a sick man. I never want to see your face again. I’d rather die here than go with you”. “I didn’t mean for him to hurt you”, Chrollo’s voice broke, “I just wanted him to scare you. You have to believe me”. “And that’s just as sick”, you couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice. “Darling, I’m not leaving you here. You know that”, Chrollo picked you up from the floor, ignoring the bruises on your body.

He expected you to struggle, to scream at him… but he didn’t get any recognition that he even existed. Your silence was far worse than any punch or words you could’ve thrown at him.

"Darling, please. Talk to me", his grip around your body tightened. "Please, don't do this. Don't shut me out. I'm sorry. I really am-". "There's nothing inside", your hand rested on his chest, "At least Feitan has a heart". "Darling", Chrollo wanted to pull you close to show you that he never meant for this to happen; that his jealousy clouded his judgement. "Please, Y/N", Chrollo gently placed you on the backseat, "Forgive me". "Never", you didn't look at him, "I'll never forgive you for this".

---

“Where’s she?”, Feitan was still unaware of everything that had happened. “In her room”. Chrollo seemed more pale than usual, dark bags underneath his eyes. “What have you done?!”. “I didn’t mean to-“. “Huh?”, Feitan threw his bag on the ground, “What have you done?!”. “She’s upstairs”, Chrollo brushed through his hair, “She won’t talk to me anymore, won’t acknowledge my presence”. “Darling?!”, Feitan ran upstairs, his heart filled with worry.

“Feitan?”, you slowly lifted your head from your pillow. “Y/N, what happened?”. “Y-you didn’t know? I know you didn’t! I know you’d never be that cruel”, you started to cry; tears flooding your face. “Y/N, what happened?”, Feitan immediately pulled you in his arms, holding your body close. “C-chrollo left me with Hisoka”. “He what?”, Feitan’s voice suddenly went ice-cold. “He left me with Hisoka to punish me and Hisoka hurt me-“. “What did he do? Show me”, Feitan pulled away studying your body. You slowly showed the bruises on your body. “Did he do anything else?”, Feitan’s touch felt featherlight. “N-no”, you shook your head, “But I think Chrollo believes he did-“. “Doesn’t matter, I’m getting you out of here. You and me. Just us. I’m not leaving you with him for another second”.

Chrollo stood in the hallway, and for once his heart broke. He never felt this sentimental, caring… Sure, you were his favorite and he thought he loved you but this feeling… This was something new. Suddenly, he realized he never loved you, not until now. He wanted to scare you, to punish you properly but he didn’t realize how sick his mind was. How could he do something like this? Even to scare you? How could he do this to someone he loved?

“Grab your stuff”, Feitan’s voice rung through the hallway, “Before I’m going to kill him”.

[edenmemes]

red dead redemption 1 starters

❝ it’s wanting that gets so many folks in trouble. ❞ ❝ it ain’t no secret i didn’t get these scars falling over in church. ❞ ❝ if you win power, remember why you wanted it. ❞ ❝ you do a man wrong, he’ll shoot you for it. you do a man right…well, he still may shoot you for it. ❞ ❝ trust me. there’s things you’re better off not knowing. ❞ ❝ you remind me a lot of myself. how i used to be. stubborn and angry. ❞ ❝ i hope you will give me some warning if you get the sudden urge to kill me. ❞ ❝ my side wasn’t chosen. my side was given. ❞ ❝ a little sore, but apart from a couple extra scars, it will be as nothing happened. ❞ ❝ i don’t think you’re a bad person. a little stupid perhaps, but not rotten. ❞ ❝ i certainly don’t mind you asking, if you don’t mind me not telling. ❞ ❝ you are being deliberately obscure as a substitute for having a personality. ❞ ❝ so do tell me, have you needlessly risked your life since we last spoke? ❞ ❝ i came into this world fighting. and i’ll go out of it fighting. ❞ ❝ i hear you speak and suddenly i'm reminded of how the people i respected most in my life had a problem with authority. ❞ ❝ you're looking much better. considering you were almost buzzard food a couple days ago. ❞ ❝ power is like a drink. the more you have, the more you want. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ sometimes in the service of what is right, you got to do terrible things. ❞ ❝ you have quite a story. i really am a little jealous. ❞ ❝ old friends make the worst enemies. ❞ ❝ i had everything, and gave it up in the pursuit of nothing. ❞ ❝ hah. you were always bad at lying. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to stand by and watch good people suffer. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging. ❞ ❝ now, if you don't mind, i'd hate to spoil such a beautiful afternoon on such beautiful land with any further unpleasantries. ❞ ❝ i, too, have a family, friend. and so that we may see our families again i suggest we part ways amicably. ❞ ❝ sometimes i tell myself that everything happens for a reason. ❞ ❝ i see the good in everybody. it’s a flaw of mine. ❞ ❝ well, try not to get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ see if you can keep your gun holstered for once. ❞ ❝ i don’t pay much attention to rumors. ❞ ❝ i swear, if it was down to me, i’d never have gone anywhere. ❞ ❝ lock all the doors. whatever happens, don’t come outside. you hear me? whatever happens. ❞ ❝ what would you care? i’m just a nuisance to you anyway. ❞ ❝ i’ve been hearing some things about you. ❞ ❝ i would rather be dead than a cynic like you. ❞ ❝ damn, a little gratitude wouldn’t kill you. ❞ ❝ trust me, i ain’t no hero. ❞ ❝ as it turns out, it's you or me. the way i see it, might as well be you. ❞ ❝ you live in a dream world. it ain’t like they tell it in books. ❞ ❝ i’m asking you to do what i say, before you get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ those who sit on the fence make a choice…in their own way. ❞ ❝ i’d do anything for you, you know that. ❞ ❝ better watch your mouth, my friend. i've cut out a man's tongue for less. ❞ ❝ there's nothing worse than a nobody thinking he's a somebody. ❞ ❝ you got it all wrong. i’ve always loved you, even now. ❞ ❝ what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own? ❞ ❝ first impressions are hard to erase. ❞ ❝ it’s a long story. too long to tell without a drink in my hand. ❞ ❝ i’m not angry. i’m disappointed. ❞ ❝ you know me. i’ll be late to my own funeral. ❞ ❝ that tone of voice ain’t so becoming on you. makes you seem all pent up and angry. ❞ ❝ you think i don’t know who you are. ❞ ❝ why don’t i get a warm and tender embrace? ❞ ❝ what do you want me to say? yippee? ❞ ❝ there’s always a choice. you’re just too blind to see. ❞ ❝ you’re not ready for that yet. one step at a time. ❞ ❝ every time you go off, i worry you’re not coming back. ❞ ❝ it didn’t have to be this way. ❞ ❝ come on now. try to look on the bright side. ❞

❝ after all i taught you…i’m ashamed. ❞ ❝ it’s easy to make promises you can never keep. ❞ ❝ we all make mistakes. i never claimed to be a saint. ❞ ❝ how does it feel to kill hundreds of men in cold blood? ❞ ❝ it ain’t the first time i had a gun to my head. ❞ ❝ you’re not perfect, and i’m sure not. but you’re better than they are. ❞ ❝ you alright? you’re not hurt, are you? ❞ ❝ this really couldn’t have gone more horribly wrong. ❞ ❝ you’re just like me. you can’t change who you are. ❞ ❝ my whole life, all i ever did was fight. ❞ ❝ you’re in no position to make demands. ❞ ❝ the bright side? there ain’t no bright side. ❞ ❝ my heart’s beating like a drum. ❞ ❝ are you sure you’re alright? i mean, i know all that business must have been hard on you. ❞ ❝ you’ll make me blush with all these kind words. ❞ ❝ i never took you for the jealous type. ❞ ❝ come now, you’re stupid, but you’re not that stupid. ❞ ❝ you’re weak. you always were. you never had the stomach for this. ❞ ❝ seems real quiet, don’t you think? ❞ ❝ you were always a hard and nasty man. ❞ ❝ see, i have nothing but your best intentions at heart. ❞ ❝ don’t talk about things you don’t understand. ❞ ❝ i guess there’s only one room for one hero in this family. ❞ ❝ for a wise man, you are a really stupid man. ❞ ❝ what would have happened if i hadn’t come along? ❞ ❝ you must have mistaken me for someone else, friend. ❞ ❝ you ain’t very talkative, are you? ❞ ❝ we cannot be too careful. the world is very dangerous. ❞ ❝ no, i’m not okay. do i look like i’m okay? ❞ ❝ you are so tense all the time. come, let’s have some fun! ❞ ❝ i will stay and fight. i am ready to die if necessary. ❞ ❝ i know i can’t change the past but i’m sure gonna do something about the future. ❞ ❝ i’ve given you no reason not to trust me. ❞ ❝ choose your tone rightly. remember who you’re talking to. ❞ ❝ there are guards everywhere. if they see you, they will kill you. ❞ ❝ it was nothing. i’m not a kid any more.❞ ❝ a lonely, forsaken place. some people say it’s haunted. ❞ ❝ i’m not sure your idea of paradise and mine are the same. ❞ ❝ maybe if you were more cordial to folks, they’d be better inclined to help you. ❞ ❝ i’ve been in far worse situations. ❞ ❝ you have the exterior of a violent man, but the soul of an angel. ❞ ❝ you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you? ❞ ❝ you’re no better. how many men have you killed? ❞ ❝ stay alert. something doesn’t feel right. ❞

❝ i'm going to hand you over to them and watch them tear you limb from limb…i'm just kidding. ❞ ❝ you love to talk badly of other people because it makes you feel better about yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s been a pleasure spending time with you. ❞ ❝ that’s a lot of sacrifice. i just hope it’s worth it. ❞ ❝ i’m not cut out for this. no, not cut out for this at all. ❞ ❝ i don’t need you to show me. ❞ ❝ men are born, and then they're formed. at least, that’s how i see it. ❞ ❝ a little flattery…now we’re finally getting somewhere. ❞ ❝ i thought you were supposed to be fearless. ❞ ❝ you are a man who has lost his spirit. ❞ ❝ if you were less secretive, people might be more inclined to trust you. ❞ ❝ me mean me no harm? this is funny. what harm could you do to me, exactly? ❞ ❝ come on, after everything we’ve been through, i think we can trust each other, don’t you? ❞ ❝ i can’t rightly believe it. just like in the books. ❞ ❝ i didn’t ask for your help back there. i owe you nothing. ❞ ❝ be careful. what’s stopping me from killing you? ❞ ❝ one day, i promise you, you’re gonna regret this. ❞ ❝ you know i’ll do whatever i can, but i have problems of my own. ❞ ❝ what would you know about leadership? ❞ ❝ you make a choice by not making a choice, you know. ❞ ❝ hold your excuses until you figure out which one to use. ❞ ❝ i'll give you a bad case of "someone just shot me in the head" if you don't hurry up. ❞ ❝ being honest though, this tastes bad enough to kill a man. ❞ ❝ do i look like i need saving? ❞ ❝ sarcasm should be beneath a man such as you. ❞ ❝ are you always this stupid or are you making an extra effort today? ❞ ❝ i don’t like to kill a man on his knees, even if he deserves it. ❞ ❝ don't forget you need me more than i need you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you to hell and back. ❞ ❝ you’d best not be lying to me. ❞ ❝ let's get going. before the weather gets any worse. that sky don't look good.. ❞ ❝ thank you for telling me all that back there. it must have been hard for you. ❞ ❝ i know we ain't exactly old pals, but…have i ever done you wrong? ❞ ❝ your nobility's almost as affecting as your naivety. ❞ ❝ you are a romantic who wants to be a cynic. ❞ ❝ i apologize if i seem to be prying. ❞ ❝ strange place for a decent person to visit, if you don't mind me saying. ❞ ❝ well, you must admit…it's an unusual start to a friendship. ❞ ❝ i can’t really say i understand you. ❞ ❝ every man has a right to change, a chance of forgiveness. ❞ ❝ hello, old friend. it’s been a long time. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand now why i've been playing my cards somewhat close to my chest. ❞ ❝ nobody made my path but me. ❞ ❝ it’ll be a piece of cake. trust me. ❞ ❝ oh, don’t be so deliberately enigmatic. ❞ ❝ my word, what a difficult life you’ve lived. ❞ ❝ you have a strange sense of humor. ❞ ❝ stay and fight me, you coward. ❞ ❝ i ain't planning on staying very long. ❞

[lisaas2418]

The overblot boys showing their unique magic to the great seven.

Alright so I can imagine that the overblot boys were explaining their unique magic and the great seven were interested and wanted to see a demonstaration.

Riddle 🌹

So for this to work and 'cuz it's my headcanon, Riddle can only do his spell on those who have magic, since on people without magic like Yuu it wouldn't work 'cuz there is no magic that can be sealed.

So a person with magic steps forward to be spelled on (whoever that is you can decide on your own) and Riddle says and points his magic pen at them "Off with his head".

And at that second the person has a collar aroumd their neck and they can't cast their magic anymore. After the demonstration Riddle let the collar disappear.

The Queen of Hearts was ofcourse very proud of Riddle for having such a useful spell

Queen of Hearts: I know I don't have magic but if I were to have would wanted to have a spell that can actually behead people? 😁

Riddle: With all due respect your majesty......no.

Leona 🦁

Leona just grabbed a nearby plate said "King's Roar" the plate turned into sand and called it a day.

Scar likes that it's called King's Roar but he hides his happyness very well.

Although Ruggie stepped a few steps away as Leona grabbed the plate due to what happened to him in Book 2

Shenzai: Hey what happened there tell us!

Benzai: Yeah yeah come on it can't be that bad

Ed: .......

Ruggie: Leona grabbed my arm used his spell on it and almost turned my arm into sand 🙂

The hyeanas:...........

Benzai: Are you ok?

Ruggie: Well still a little grumpy at him for doing it but yeah I am fine 😁.

(He is not fine, boy is traumatized)

Azul 🐙

Sucks to be him 'cuz no one wanted to make a contract with him, especially not Ariel.

Ursula was sad that she couldn't see it herself buut is still happy that here deal and his spell are kinda the same

Azul: Come on it isn't bad at all 😁

Yuu: Yes it is 😒

Azul: What did you said?

Yuu: You heard me you shady octopus.

Azul: Hey!

Jamil 🐍

Yeah no one exactly wanted to be hypnotized, especially those who have been before......that was until Kalim voluntered so he could give Jami a chance to impress the Sorcerer of sands. Jamil was a little perplexed but he agreed nontheless.

And with the words "Snake Whisper", Kalim was under the spell....again.

Yeah it did impressed Jafar and also a tiny little jealous since he has to use his staff to hypnotize someone and Jamil just can do it with his eyes, but is still impressed.

Yuu: Alright you did now free him.

Jamil: You know he didn't had to. I mean I wouldn't mind using it on you agai since-

Yuu: Try it ever again and I will punsh you much worse then I did then and even more 🙂

Jamil:........alright

(And no Yuu doesn't hate him but they really hate that stunt he pulled)

Vil 💄

Well since he didn't exactly wanted anyone to actually hurt, he just touched an apple, decided that the curse shall be slowely rottening in 10 seconds, said "Fairest One Of All" amd it happned as he wanted it to happen.

The evil queen found that as a valuableand usefull spell, especially in terms for against people.

Ace: I still a little stiff due to that stupid spell

Vil: If you wouldn't have eaten the food in the fridge over nightime it wouldn't have happened.

Ace: We were hungry for crying out loud!

Vil: You ate dinner and decided to have an useless "midnight snack".

Ace: That dinner wasn't enough!

Yuu: Can we move on already?

Idia 🎮

For obvious reasons he can't do the spell at all

But Hades found that cool that he can literally open the gate like that without needing extherna things

Yuu: I really hope you will never use that spell again.

Idia: I am not an idiot.

Yuu: Yet you-

Idia: I was under the blots influence!

Yuu: So were the others!

Malleus 🐉

Yeah he ain't gonna put people into sleep again he learned his lesson.

Well Malefizent did knew about his spell since she is his great-great-grandmother.

Yuu:.........

Malleus:.........Yuu-

Yuu: Tsunotaro.

Malleus: Yeah?

Yuu: I forgave you alright. It's just.....I don't like to remember it.

Malleus: I...can understand that

A little angst on the last part but screw it

[nochuelinha]

Chapter 1: Instantaneous Analysis

I always dreamed of being part of the forensic police force, ever since I was a child, I knew I would work with it. I studied like hell, did everything I could and then some, but in the end, I became a detective. Not that I don't like my job, it's just that my dream was ripped away from me by much more advanced technology: androids.

I don't hate androids like some out there, including my mentor Hank Anderson; no, I find them fascinating, but I never had the financial means for one, and even now that I do, it doesn't fit into the part that interests me as a young adult.

I've always pushed myself harder than I should in my studies, as if I had to achieve everything quickly. Human life is short, and sometimes I feel like mine is even shorter. Even before joining the police force, at the peak of my 22 years, I became Detroit's youngest detective. We received a call, apparently a homicide involving androids. I hitched a ride with one of the officers heading there; I don't know how to drive, pathetic, but I'm not ashamed of it.

The house was old and smelled really bad, really bad. I felt bile rise in my throat and held back from vomiting; the body had been there for a few days already. Everything was turned upside down and a mess. I approached the corpse and began analyzing everything I could. He had been stabbed 28 times; whoever wanted him dead made sure of it. He had traces of red ice in his poorly kept beard, parasites were starting to do their work on his rotten flesh. I don't know why, but he exuded an aura that he was a real son of a bitch, must be because he's dead. On the wall behind him was written in blood: I AM ALIVE.

I looked at the ransacked kitchen and went to the bathroom, covered in the writing RA9; there was a small carved doll there, some kind of offering?

I heard Hank's voice and followed him, and to my surprise, he was accompanied by an android. It was the most beautiful thing I could lay eyes on in that horrifying place; large captivating brown eyes, skin with small freckles, perfectly combed hair, except for a stubborn lock, he was the definition of perfection.

"So, who's your new friend, Hank?" I tried to sound casual, but my voice dripped with curiosity and excitement. Hank looked at me with a certain amusement, then sighed resignedly. Before he could respond, the android did, even his voice was beautiful and melodious.

"My name is Connor. I am an android sent by Cyber Life to assist in investigations regarding deviants." I looked at him with interest. "You must be Detective S/N; it's a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand; I took it without hesitation; it was warm and soft. I let go of his hand, and he began to analyze the crime scene.

"You look like a kid who just got a new toy," Hank sighed. I smirked in response and looked again at Connor; he dipped his fingers into the dead guy's blood and put it in his mouth, definitely disgusting. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Hank didn't seem to like the scene very much.

"Analyzing the evidence instantaneously." I looked at him; he comes equipped with the feature that made me give up on forensic police. All I did was watch him work for the rest of the night. As he moves through the crime scene, his determination is palpable, his expression serious and focused. There is no distraction, only his goal to fulfill his mission. As the night progresses and the case unfolds, it's impossible not to be impressed with how he works; there are things that only he can see, like the traces of thirium, was that what made him find the deviant, hidden in the attic? I'm curious to see what the next few days will be like in his presence.

[vodika-vibes]

Ohhhh this prompt with a jedi would be super cutie pie!!! My 1st thought was Obi-Wan, because I'm weak to Obi-Wan calling me "dear" or "love" but Plo or Kit would be fine too.

"this is so wrong," "if so, then stop me, love,""you tempt me, y/n-" cue a KISSSSS "-and you drive me insane."

But I might gonna send you new prompts. Spiciers. Or not, just gut wrenching in the romantic angst happy ending sense.

The Heart Of A Jedi

Summary: When Obi-Wan takes you one a mission that his Master can't join him on, some things come out into the open.

Pairing: Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

Word Count: 1929

Warnings: There's one instance of a creep, but no details.

A/N: So this story takes place before A Phantom Menace, but other than that there's no set timeline.

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“This place isn’t so bad,” You murmur, more to yourself than to your companion, as you stand on your toes to try and see over the shoulder of a stranger who happens to be blocking the path. “It’s festive.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi brushes a delicate pink petal out of his hair, and makes a face at you, “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? I think a Festival of Romance is sweet.”

The exasperated expression on his face morphs into something painfully fond, “You’re so…you, sometimes.”

“Well, would you prefer I was more like Qui-Gon?” You ask as you straighten your back and adopt a lofty expression, “Padawan—” You yelp as his hand clamps over your mouth.

“You do a terrible Qui-Gon impression,” He flicks his padawan braid over his shoulder, and then releases you, “Although, I do have to admit that I’m glad I’m here with you rather than my Master.”

You pluck a piece of heart-shaped confetti off his shoulder, “Yes, I can see why that might be awkward.” You’re not laughing at him. You’re not. Well, not a lot, at least.

He shoots you another look, and then reaches out and tugs on your ponytail, “Come on, we need to find our hotel.”

“I bet they’re only gonna have one room,” You say gleefully as you fall into step next to him, and then coughing as you take a face full of confetti. “We’re probably gonna have to share a bed.” You continue once you finish sputtering around the paper in your mouth.

“See, now I think you’re just trying to jinx us.”

“Maybe I am—” Obi-Wan quickly tugs you out of the way of a large man, his hand hovering low, around your hip, to create a buffer between you and anyone around you. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His hand settles protectively on your shoulder as he tugs you closer to his chest, “Let’s get off the street before someone actually hurts you.”

You dig around in your pockets for a moment and then pull out a small slip of flimsy, “We’re looking for The Golden Slipper. The man who contacted the Jedi is the proprietor of that Hotel.”

Ten minutes later, the pair of you are standing in front of said hotel. The Golden Slipper is removed from the main street, and it looks old and kind of worn down. The sign is so faded, that you can barely read the name. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You ask, turning to look up at the man standing next to you.

“According to the GPS, yeah.”

“Um…” Your gaze flickers to a broken window, and then over to the broken speeder sitting broken down next to the front door, and then settles on the dead flowers in the planters.

“It’s probably better inside.”

“...if you say so.”

It’s not better inside.

It’s only because of Obi-Wan’s quick reflexes that you don’t fall through the floor when you step on a rotten floorboard, his arm a solid lifeline around your waist.

“Did you get hurt?” He asks, his voice low.

“No, you caught me before I could.”

He carefully sets you back on your feet and motions for you to stay close, his expression wary as he looks around the hotel. “We might be safer staying on your ship.” he admits.

Before he can continue that thought, the back door opens and a large man rushes into the room. He’s…big. There’s no other word for it. The shirt he’s wearing, stained yellow in places, is far too small on his frame, and his pants, also stained in places, hang low on his hips. 

“You must be the Jedi!” His voice has a whiny hint to it, and it makes you want to recoil away from him, but Obi-Wan keeps his face pleasantly neutral, and so you do the same.

“That’s correct. Are you the owner of the Golden Slipper?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“Who me? No, no. Not at all. That would be my father. He’s in the back. Hold on a second.” The man vanishes through the door again, and you share a look with Obi-Wan.

Now that it’s just the two of you, there’s an unusual expression on his face. One you’ve only seen a few times before, usually right before someone tries to hurt you.

“What do you think?” You whisper to him.

“I think we’ll be staying in another hotel, I don’t want you staying here any longer than necessary.”

“Why? The son seems pathetic, but not a threat.”

He scoffs under his breath, “Then you’re lucky you’re not an empath.”

You hum your understanding, “It’s your stage, Obes. I’ll follow your lead.”

He tosses you the tiniest smile and motions for you to move behind him, and just in time too, as the owner’s son returns to the lobby, followed by a frail-looking man who looks like he’ll topple over if you breathe too hard around him.

“Master Jedi,” Even the old man’s voice sounds frail. Frail and wispy, like a spiderweb in the wind, “You honor an old man with your presence.”

“Master Yoda indicated that this was something that we must look into,” Obi-Wan replies, “I’m honored to have been chosen.”

The old man nods, and doesn’t say anything for a long moment, “It is as I indicated to Master Yoda, young couples are vanishing. And no one cares. But only during the Festival of Hearts.”

“So this week,” Obi-Wan clarifies.

“That’s right.”

Obi-Wan nods thoughtfully, “I see. Then we had best start investigating.”

“Would the pair of you like to stay here?” The son asks eagerly, perhaps too eagerly.

“Thank you, but now that we know the issue, we’ll be staying on Main Street, to keep an eye on everything.” Obi-Wan replies, “I do apologize if it’s an inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” the old man replies, “I recommend the Goldberry Inn, it’s near the spaceport. Good luck, Master Jedi.” The old man hobbles away, his son trailing after him.

You jump when Obi-Wan nudges you, then you allow him to guide you out of the Hotel. He leads you to the Goldberry Inn, though he didn’t really have to. You remember seeing it when you first left the spaceport.

And then he murmured something about doing some investigation, leaving you to deal with getting a room. 

By the time Obi-Wan returns to the room, the sun has already set and the room service order that you made for the pair of you had just arrived. 

“Only one room?” He asks as he pulls off his robe and tosses it over a chair, “And a shared bed?”

You jab your finger at him, “You’re lucky she didn’t try to make us sleep in the barn, Mister.”

“I’m sure you did the best you could,” He allows, as he takes a seat and accepts the plate of food you offer him, “Oysters?”

“And wine.” Obi-Wan shoots you a puzzled look, and you sigh, “Look, apparently the fact that you went off exploring while I dealt with the accommodations, means that there’s something wrong with our marriage. So…marriage aids.”

“Ah.”

“Sorry, turns out this is more Bed and Breakfast than Inn.”

“That’s alright.” He pours himself a glass of wine, and then pours you one, “So, from here on out, we need to go out together. We’ll attract too much attention if we don’t.”

You take a sip of your wine, and grimace at how sweet it is, “If we’re looking for someone who’s targeting young couples, then being together will make us a more tempting target.” You take another sip and cough, “I’m sorry, this wine is awful.”

Obi-Wan takes a sip himself, and then sets the glass down and shoves it away, “Yeah. Oh, that’s bad.” He coughs and grabs your water bottle to take a sip.

“At least we’re suffering together?” You offer with a laugh.

He grins at you in reply, and takes a bite of the oysters, and then he makes a face, “They’re…interesting.”

“Lying is a sin, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“It’s like trying to chew rubber—” He admits.

You burst out laughing, “I have some ration bars,” You say through your giggles, “Tomorrow we’ll grab something from one of the carts.”

“You didn’t pay extra for this, did you?”

“Included with our stay.” You reassure as you walk over to your bag and fish two ration bars out of the front pocket. You toss him one and then drop on the couch, propping your feet up on the coffee table.

Obi-Wan joins you on the couch as he opens his ration bar, “You know,” He starts thoughtfully, “I’m glad you agreed to come on this mission with me.”

You glance at him, “Like I’m going to give up the chance to spend time with my favorite Jedi.”

“Your favorite, huh?”

“What, you didn’t know?”

“I knew, I just didn’t think you’d be so blunt about it.” He replies. He hesitates for a moment, then he turns and lightly brushes his fingers down your cheek. 

“Obi-Wan? What are you—?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Your face starts burning immediately, “Are you allowed to say stuff like that?” You ask him, though you don’t even consider stopping him from touching you.

“My only rule is I can’t form an attachment to you,” Obi-Wan’s forehead lightly bumps against yours, “And that’s not a concern.”

His nose brushes against yours, and you release a shaky breath, “I never thought you would want to touch me like this.” You admit.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hand comes up to brush his padawan braid behind his shoulder, and then you brush your fingers against his cheek, “This is so wrong—” But you don’t believe it any more than he does.

“If you think so, then stop me, love.” The familiar nickname falls from his lips with ease as he leans in so that his lips are hovering just over yours, “The ball is in your court.”

For the first time in your life, you’re actually speechless. You want him to hurry up and kiss you, but you aren’t sure how to say that to him. So, instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your body as close to him as you can.

“You tempt me, beloved.” Obi-Wan murmurs, as he closes the distance between your lips and his and pulls you into a surprisingly passionate kiss, “And you drive me insane.” He finishes.

He pulls away before you want him to, though he doesn’t go far. Instead, he lightly presses his forehead against yours again, and he just watches you. The same soft expression he normally directs at you taking on a new meaning with that kiss.

“That was…” You trail off, not sure you have the right words to explain what you’re thinking and feeling.

“Good?”

“Better.” You murmur, “We can do it again?”

“As much as you like, whenever you like.” His eyes close and he draws you close, “I mean every word.” Obi-Wan murmurs, “It’s just a bonus that we can now act like a couple in the morning.”

You exhale slowly at his comment, but you also nod. You and Obi-Wan, you’ll be alright. More than alright. You’ll be perfect. And, maybe now Qui-Gon will nominate Obi-Wan for the Knight Trials. 

But those are worries for later.

For now, you lean in to catch his lips with your own and allow him to pull you onto his lap. For now, it’s just you and Obi-Wan and nothing could be better.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[son1c]

listen to your heart

falling stars fic masterpost

Thunder, but not from a storm. Sonic could hear it pulse in his ears, and he realized it was his heart, pounding on his rib cage like a boxer pounding on a punching bag. He was standing up, though he couldn't remember when he'd left the couch. It was at his back now, and Sonic was facing the TV, staring at his reflection in the blank black screen.

What he saw there brought his hammering heart to a standstill.

It was himself. But it was wrong. His fur was too pale, the color faded like a years-old photograph. And his eyes… They stared back at him, their gaze piercing and far too bright.

They really were glowing, like Stripes had said.

Sonic raised a hand to his face, and the stranger in the TV screen copied him.

He thought about his nightmare. But, no, that wasn't right. There was no way it was a nightmare. The thing reeked in a way that only something real could. It must've been a memory--a rotten, no good memory of something that had happened to him during his time at Scrap Brain. But why was he remembering it now? And how had he forgotten it in the first place?

Sonic recalled the enraged face of the red echidna, Knuckles. That was the last thing he'd seen before… waking up on a table back at Scrap Brain. His body was in pieces, his screen crowded with one hundred emergency alerts.

Eggman was looming over him. He wanted to know what had happened on Angel Island, and Sonic, unable to lie while giving his report, told him the truth. And when he was done, he asked Eggman one question: Who am I?

The images he'd been shown by the Master Emerald refused to leave his addled mind. He was fixated on them, because they didn't make any sense. His code was telling him that he'd always been this way, that he'd never been anything but a robot, a vanguard of the Eggman Empire. But his heart said something different, and it was compelling enough to make him doubt everything.

Eggman said he understood. He said he would help. Then, he placed a hand on Sonic's head and told the Robian not to worry, because he would remember who he was shortly, after a factory reset.

In the present, Sonic shuddered. He realized he'd forgotten about Knuckles and his trip to Angel Island because Eggman had made him forget. The realization tasted like ten jugs of curdled milk smashed together, sour and disgusting.

And it made him furious, too.

Furious to think that Eggman used to have so much control over him.

Sonic was once again faced with his reflection in the TV screen. With those eyes that stared back at him with a sickly green intensity. One thing was for sure: they were different now from how they'd been before. They weren't the eyes of a Robian, but weren't the eyes of his old self, either.

Sonic looked away from the TV, but his glowing eyes were seared into his brain, and their afterimage followed him around the room, their impressions burning holes into the back of the door when he turned toward it.

He felt the need to run. It would help clear his mind, or so he hoped. The questions that haunted him now--What have you become? Is your body your own? Are you really free?--were too much for him to bear.

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to look at himself, to see how much he'd been changed.

Stay cool. That was what he wanted to do. Yeah, he would take this in stride, like he'd done with his broken leg. And he would remain above it--above his pain. Like he'd been after losing his memory (the first time). After being hunted by soldiers, and tricked by Mr. Ivo, and--

Sonic balled his hands into fists, and couldn't help but think his fingers felt stiff. It was the sort of stiffness that he wouldn’t be able to wring out, because it had settled deep beneath his flesh and into his bones. The temperature of his palms was equally disconcerting; the coldness should’ve meant he was dead, his paws seeming more like bits of the Antarctic than a hedgehog Mobian, even though it was warm inside the casino.

He felt like shivering. Instead, he set his jaw.

Stepping toward the door, Sonic got as far as the welcome mat before he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"It's the middle of the night," Shadow said. "Where are you going at this hour?"

Buggy hugged Shadow's leg, looking up at Sonic with its wide, unblinking eyes.

Sonic shrugged, though he wished he wasn’t having this conversation right now. “Can’t say I had someplace in mind,” he said truthfully. “Maybe the Ferris wheel? Doesn’t matter, so long as I get there fast!”

Shadow crossed his arms and glanced at the clock. It was 4-something AM. “The city will wait for you,” Shadow said. “It’s not going anywhere. Just like you should be—don’t sacrifice your sleep for a whim, Blue.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sonic said as he pulled open the door. “Let’s both go. That way, we can have a little friendly competition. Our last race was stacked in your favor, but this time, I’ll beat you!”

Shadow was incredulous. He could’ve said a lot about Sonic’s lack of care for his own sleep schedule, but what he said instead was, “Beat me? You must be joking. I’ve seen your speed once before, and I can outdo it.”

Buggy rubbed its claws together nervously. Suddenly, there was a current of tension running through the room, and it was felt by even the robot.

Sonic held the door open for Shadow and stepped to the side, gesturing at the hallway with one hand. “I’m a good sport,” Sonic said with a grin, “so I’ll let you have a head start.”

Through the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door to the first floor of the casino. The two hedgehogs blew past Rouge, who was just finishing turning off the lights at the bar, and she spun around like a dreidel from their combined speed. She tried to shout after them, but whatever she said was swallowed up by the sound of the front doors slamming shut.

The bottoms of Shadow's shoes were lit up. Earlier in the night, he'd attached the rings Rouge had given him to his soles, and now he was using their power to skate Heelys-style through the streets of Night Babylon. The pavement was still wet from the rain, but that was it. There were no floodwaters to wade through, only slick corners to turn as the two hedgehogs raced toward the Ferris wheel.

Streetlamps illuminated the empty roads. Parked cars sometimes stood in Sonic and Shadow's way, but they vaulted over them expertly, using the hoods of the vehicles as springboards. They touched down on the other side and kept moving, always neck-and-neck.

Until Sonic suddenly pulled ahead. After spinning around, Sonic taunted Shadow while running backwards. "Not so easy now that we're on equal footing, huh, Stripes?"

Shadow gritted his teeth. After being woken up by Sonic's motobug friend, thinking something was wrong, he couldn't help but be annoyed by the Blue Blur's cocky attitude. But then he saw it--Sonic's carefree grin. And the way his shoulders were relaxed, his hands folded behind his head in a way that reveled in the motion, cherishing the wind at his back.

After all that time spent with a broken leg, was it really a surprise that Sonic was enjoying himself right now?

Shadow smiled. He wasn't annoyed anymore. In fact, he was happy for Sonic.

"You've been looking forward to this moment, haven't you, hedgehog?" Shadow asked.

Sonic blinked. His grin faltered. He stared at Shadow's expression, at the kind smile his friend wore, so slight that it might've been just a trick of the light, but it wasn't. It was real. And it shocked him--for just a moment, before Sonic recovered and his heart soared, a warm feeling taking hold of his chest, so much nicer than those frigid feelings from earlier.

"Yeah," Sonic said, laughing a little, "I have!"

And then Sonic, still running backwards, slipped on a particularly wet patch of pavement, and tumbled into a bush on the other side of the street.

Shadow's eyes widened. He skidded to a stop in front of the bush.

Laying on his back in the twigs and flowers, Sonic rubbed his forehead. The yellow light from the streetlamp made him squint, but he wasn't hurt, just embarrassed. So much for winning the race! he thought with a sigh.

Then, Sonic saw Shadow extend a hand to him, and the blue hedgehog couldn't help but think that maybe winning didn't matter so much.

Taking Shadow's hand, Sonic said as he pulled himself up, "Haha! What a wipeout!"

Just like that, Sonic's good mood had returned, and now all he wanted to do was bask in the feeling, the warmth of Shadow's touch matching that of his own fluttering heart.

"I gotta give it to you, man," Sonic said. "You've got me beat two-to-none!"

"The rain was an unexpected ally," Shadow admitted, his smile a little wider now, "but who am I to deny my own victory?"

Sonic rolled his eyes, but his grin remained intact. "Oh, sure," he said, "rub it in. Better to live it up while you can, right? Cuz pretty soon, I'll stomp ya! Just gotta, uh… keep my eyes on the road next time. Heh."

"If nothing else," Shadow replied, "it will make for a more dignified defeat."

Then, Shadow's eyes fell to his hand--the one that Sonic was still holding. Even though they were both standing now, and there was no need for it anymore.

Sonic followed Shadow’s gaze, saw what he was looking at, and realized he should probably let go. Somehow, the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. But he hesitated.

Sonic wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but at some point during their adventures together, he'd become so comfortable around Shadow that it made him not want to let go of his friend's hand.

So, Sonic listened to his heart, and he laced their fingers together.

“Not bad, huh?” Sonic asked.

At first, Shadow had no reply. From his toes to his teeth, he stood, his posture as rigid as a brick wall. The sudden display of affection from Sonic confused him, and the blue hedgehog's question pierced his brain like a bullet. It brought with it a gnarled tree of feelings, feelings he scarcely recognized, and because of this, Shadow was left feeling vulnerable, and he hated that.

But there was one thing that Shadow did recognize: his friend, Sonic.

Haloed by the streetlamp, Sonic looked so confident, so content. Like holding Shadow's hand was everything he was meant to be doing in that moment, and Shadow envied him. The dark hedgehog once again found himself longing for some of Sonic's confidence.

His own sense of self was still so shaky, still second to that of his Android copy, and when Shadow focused on it for too long, it made the ground itself seem to rumble and crack beneath his feet.

And then there was Sonic. Always there to catch him when he started to fall.

Shadow curled his fingers around Sonic's hand. Finally, he relaxed. He felt steady now, here in the middle of the empty street, surrounded by parked cars and sky scrapers and a glowing Ferris wheel. Not even the blossoming emotions hanging from the branches of his heart seemed so scary anymore.

"Yes," Shadow answered softly.

Sonic beamed. Then, he pulled on Shadow's hand, and the two of them ran up the side of the Ferris wheel together.

From the top, Sonic and Shadow could see all of Night Babylon. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze while hotels stood still, their windows mostly dark. Even this late at night, the casinos remained the center of the action, with people going in and out in a steady stream. Laughter floated up from the streets as people twirled and danced through the city.

With a clear, star-speckled sky, Night Babylon shined, so much richer than it had been on the day of the storm. Sonic and Shadow looked down at it while keeping pace with the Ferris wheel as it continued to spin. Their worries were temporarily forgotten as they watched the purple night change into a pink dawn, the sun poking over the horizon, the moments pressing onward, all while holding onto each other's hand.

[jellyfitzjelly]

Please do write that fanfic of Ruyi and Ling Yunche. Both of them deserve the whole world 😭

Anon sorry for leaving you hanging I swear I am working on it! It's an AU where Ruyi marries Yunche instead of Hongli! Here is the beginning of my fic! I might actually post it as a standalone... Under a cut because it's long lol.

Ling Yunche looks between the doors of the Cold Palace every night when he’s on duty, and watches the fairy crying in the moonlight. She reminds him of the beautiful and tragic fox demon of his hometown’s folk song, condemned to cry forever under the moon with no possibility to join her human lover in the underworld. He misses his village so much. The capital is big and foreign to him, and the palace is a whole world contained within high red walls. He is blessed to have his sweetheart and his childhood friend here with him. They form Yunche’s own world, a cocoon of familiarity and warmth.

The beautiful, sorrowful girl looks terribly lonely in comparison.

He hears the other guards talk about her. She’s an Ula-Nara, the precious daughter of a powerful Manchu family now fallen. Her aunt was the lofty empress of the Forbidden City, but she is now locked away in her palace and disgraced. They say the favorite son of the Emperor wanted to marry her, courting his parents’ wrath. The Emperor was so enraged he ordered to have her thrown in the Cold Palace, even though she does not belong here. Yunche finds her lover a very weak man. Who wouldn’t feel chivalrous looking at that delicate face? And yet he lets her rot here, bending like tall weed in the wind to his parents’ will and marrying the women they have prepared for him. He should have eloped with her, he reasons, and escaped the capital. She must be heartbroken to have placed her love in such a fickle man. He always makes a prayer for her to find a better man, though he grimly knows that beautiful women have tragic fates more often than not. His Yanwan is certainly not as beautiful as this fairy, but she is his and she sings like a goddess. They have loved each other since they could remember. Her father was a joyous though incompetent man, spoiling her rotten when he was still alive. Yunche chases away the memories, not wishing to start thinking of his own parents, buried in his hometown. He has grown up a wild child with no parents to love him. But one day, he promises himself, he shall have a family again.

If the heavens have eyes, they will grant this beautiful girl a family too.

He watches her every night, hearing her quiet sobs. This time though, she turns around and in the semi-darkness, the moonlight is reflected in her eyes like precious jewels. Yunche should do the sensible thing and close the doors lest the girl starts screaming, but his hands refuse to obey him. The fairy approaches him slowly, the simplicity of her attire highlighting the porcelain of her skin and the delicate features of her face. It is as if the statue of a goddess had suddenly gained a life of its own.

“Who is this?” the beauty calls quietly.

“I am Ling Yunche, guard of the Cold Palace!” he whispers back. “And you, beautiful fairy, who are you?”

She looks at him, blinking in obvious surprise. He wants to smash his forehead against the heavy doors, cursing his foolishness.

“Beautiful fairy?” she repeats, confused, her brows furrowing.

“Oh, forgive me! You must be a ghost, rather than a fairy,” he jests to hide his mortification.

Her chuckle is a delightful sound, and her smile is as sweet as honey and as bright as the sun in summer. What possessed her man to abandon her?

“I am Ula-Nara Qinying, daughter of Naerbu.”

“So it is true? You are the woman the fourth prince wanted to marry?”

He sees her face contorts in hurt, and he curses himself once again for his blunder.

“Hey,” he continues, eager not to leave her with a dreadful impression of him, “if you need anything, call for me. I shall do what I can.”

“Thank you, Ling Yunche,” she smiles.

After that they speak leisurely when he is on duty at night, and familiarity has yet to succeed in making her startling beauty fade. He shares his cheap wine with her, and tries to make her laugh. She must be a fairy in disguise, he muses. She loves music and poetry, though she cannot dance; she loves to embroider swallows on her younger sister’s handkerchiefs; she likes to look at the moon when it is full. He never knew such a woman existed. Regularly he wonders how unlucky she is to have given her heart to such an ungrateful man. He never visits her, nor enquires after her. He lives his luxurious life, and has forgotten his sweetheart.

Finally, she is allowed to go back to her parents. She still looks heartbroken, but she gives him a smile as she thanks him for taking care of her. He does not see her again, though he regularly dreams of the fairy sobbing under the moonlight.

Yunche is promoted a week later, and he tells himself that perhaps her man is not so much of a cad as he believed him to be.

[wizardfrog69]

Good day! May I request a reader with a child (non-biological, basically some kid they took in) but they are basically the last person to ever seem to have a child. Like the reader works in a dangerous environment and they're a very dramatic and odd person that no one expects to be taking care of some kid. However, around the child they're very responsible and even a little mature.

Can it be with Sigma, Dazai and Kunikida? (Separately please.) Thank you!

Thank you for your request!

'•.¸♡ I am a parent ♡¸.•'

Fluff

Masterlist

Enjoy!

Feat. Sigma, Dazai, Kunikida

*c/n means child's name in this case!

Sigma

You and Sigma have been together for some time now, and you thought it would be the perfect time to introduce Sigma to your adopted child.

You called Sigma on the phone and told him you were going to bring someone dear to you to introduce them at his office. Sigma got nervous to meet someone you were close with and didn't want to make a bad first impression.

You knocked on the door, and Sigma welcomed you in. He was shocked to see an around ten year old child with you. 'This is c/n, c/n this is Sigma.' You said, smiling softly to yourself. The kid reached their hand out to Sigma and said,'Nice to meet you, mister!' Sigma shook their hand and responded accordingly.

Sigma and the child got a long great. He spoiled the kid rotten every time they came over, giving them some cookies or something.

Osamu Dazai

At first, when you told Dazai you had a child, he thought it was a joke, but when he realised you were being serious, he stopped laughing and asked why you had a child. (Not in an overly rude way)

You invited Dazai over to meet the child. Dazai came over with flowers and something for the child, like sweets. He handed you the flowers and asked where your kid was. 'They're in the kitchen.' You responded. Once Dazai saw the kid, he greeted them, telling them who he was. He tried to be respectful towards the child, and he was careful with his words, which surprised you a bit.

'Thank you for coming, I think they really like you.' You smiled while seeing him out.

Doppo Kunikida

Kunikida doesn't mind being with a single parent, but when he heard you had a child, he got instantly worried for the child. He tried not to show his worry, but you knew he was worried. So you introduced the child to him.

You walked into the ada with a 2 year old child around your neck. Kunikida didn't notice you at first, so you had the brilliant idea of scaring him with your child. You propped the child in the air behind his shoulder and shouted 'boo'. Kunikida instantly knew who it was. He turned around to scold you but almost had a heart attack when he saw the child.

He didn't want to raise his voice around the child, but the both of you knew Kunikida was pissed off. 'Come on, can't you take a joke?' 'Having a child is not a joke!' His response made you hold your child closer, and you walked out to the door.

Kunikida felt bad for how he acted and ran after you, placing a hand on yours before you could leave. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.' It wasn't like Kunikida to apologise, his actions taking you aback. You quickly forgave him and introduce your child to him.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

Sorry, Dazai's part is a bit short.

I'm thinking of writing a novel or story about a clown.

Have a wonderful day/night and don't forget to sleep well!

-love, Az

[communistkenobi]

hey there! I was wondering if you have any contemporary Marxist/even just leftist book recommendations for an annoying professor dad? he’s conscious of the, uh, enormous human suffering all around him, but unable to imagine anything outside capitalism. I am unfortunately not as academically educated as he is, and the more basic stuff I read isn’t impressive to him.

anyway I know you can’t magically fix my shitty dad, but any book recommendations you’ve got would be greatly appreciated. And thanks so much for all of the excellent Posting, I’ve learned a lot from you.

Academic doomers are the fucking worst! They read the material and concede the basic fact that this current system is rotten but turn that into a wholly negative outlook, refusing to imagine anything beyond it by painting all left wing politics and movements as uniformly “unrealistic.” It is pure cowardice. They are perhaps my least favourite kind of liberal, someone who mistakes their own (ivory tower, western) cynicism for pragmatism. They often tout the more ‘progressive’ version of “liberal in your twenties, conservative in your forties” to students, assuring any young person who makes demands for a better world that their pie-in-the-sky thinking will be beaten out of them one day. I have found historic accounts of past revolutions to be the most helpful for my own politics. Knowing about communist history keeps me from despair. Communism is not untested, it is not abstract, it exists in this world and it continues to exist despite the endless tide of imperial violence of capitalist countries trying to wipe it off the face of this earth. The conclusions the proletariat & all oppressed peoples continue to arrive at about their own exploitation cannot be destroyed, only delayed, and only for so long.

I would recommend reading up on a couple different revolutions - the Haitian, Cuban, and Russian Revolution. These are all proletarian revolutions, meaning they are worker revolutions (in contrast to the American or French revs, which were bourgeois, meaning property owners revolted against their own aristocratic/monarchical system for economic independence). For the Haitian Rev I would recommend the book black jacobins, and for the Russian rev I recommend the Russian Revolution by Walter Rodney. I don’t have any book recs for the Cuban Rev right now sorry! It’s on my to-do list of shit to read up on. Additionally, The Jakarta Method by Vincent Bevins outlines the anti-communist violence the US conducted around the world during the Cold War - I find this history useful to know as it helps counter the claim that communism “works only in theory but not in practice” or is “outright unrealistic,” as all communist programmes have been subjected to incredible amounts of violence and political & economic & social suppression by western countries in general and the US in specific. They have never been allowed to grow and learn on their own merits. finally, this isn’t a reading but a general recommendation, the podcast blowback is very good, it outlines the imperial history of the United States (a central pillar of that imperialist violence being anti-communist programmes). They cite history books and specific scholars in the podcast if you want to read more on specific events (their second season is about the Cuban Revolution!). I find it to be accessible, meaning they don’t use jargon, although the subject matter can be pretty horrific at times.

anyway I don’t know if any of that will help, I personally am skeptical of being able to save those types of people (ie people who have access to more critical scholarship than virtually anyone else on the planet but refuse to take it seriously - education is not a cure-all and the class interests of professors do a lot of work to inoculate them against left wing views), but who knows!

[noa-de-cajou]

Kaizarz belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

Oli (mentioned) belongs to @thal-ent

______

“Begone. Return to your kind, slaver.”

I was expecting Kaizarz Laangfisk to be cross with me. After all, I roped in his little friends into a high-stakes bet and one of them spent the night with me, and it'd be surprising if he didn't know my activities apply to a much broader scope than mere piracy.

Nonetheless, being grabbed by the neck and thrown on the ground sure was a surprise. My lip is bleeding. My throat aches. How long has it been since someone landed a hit on me, let alone made me bleed?

Ha. No matter how impressive, it’s still a childish reaction. Act rashly when someone touches your weakness the first time and they’ll know exactly where to aim the next. Someone in power should always know that, but we’re talking about a bunch of rowdy teenagers here, and he’s the worst of them all. Kings, Tyrants, Heroes, Emperors, they may look different but none of them are as hard to understand as they think.

No, the rash part isn't so surprising. The look in his eyes when he grabbed me, however…

Those were one of the coldest pair of eyes I’d ever seen.

And I've seen a lot of those.

At least his eyes looked at you. Father never cared enough to.

That doesn’t matter. It’s exactly as I thought. This boy has something boiling inside him. Something rotten. His friends didn't notice because it wasn’t turned towards them, because using it against me isn’t so bad, who needs humanity when it's a monster you’re against, but I'm curious of how they'll react when he'll face off against Brynja. Gods, I wish I could be there to see it.

I get up, slowly, wiping the blood from my face as an uncontrollable smile forms on my lips.

“Well, you won’t need me much, anyway. After all, you'll be the conductor of your own downfall.”

Something changes in his face.

A shiver runs down my spine. Twice in two days. Impressive.

Something liquid and viscous wraps slowly itself up my leg. I don’t need to look to know it’s his blood.

One wrong word. One wrong word, and my head will roll, or so his eyes seem to say. But he can’t do that. Not while they're still stuck in this port, not while they still need my money to get out.

Because they want to get out. They want to run away. What are you sailing away from, Kaizarz Laangfisk ? It's a shame I can’t see that journey come to completion, really. But he won't kill me.

Won't he?

…

I’m not stupid enough to provoke him again, so I simply stand there and wait for him to retract his spell, which he does. The warning has been received, no point in dawdling now. So I simply wave them goodbye with a smile before turning away.

You’re going to run? Just like that? Like you lost?

Of course not.

I relinquish control. Oh, not for long, just a split second for them to understand how nice I've actually been all this time and what I could have released on them.

Then I seal it up again and glance back.

The only one who hasn’t paled is Oli. The others look like they've seen a ghost. Or a glimpse of a nightmare, perhaps.

I’m not afraid to send a message either, Kaizarz.

Little shows of strenght like these are hardly worth caring about.

Even if my throat still aches.

There's a few things you ought to remember.

Your little fairy friend is only alive because I allowed her to. And as surprising as it sounds, you’ll meet people way less scrupulous than I.

But well. You don’t need to worry.

For if anyone is more ruthless than I am, it’s you, isn’t it?

[thepurplewombat]

Character headcanon ask: LXC + JGY!

Okay, so it's finally cooled down enough that my computer has stopped making distressed noises whenever I turned it on, PLUS! we even have power for a few hours today, so here goes:

Lan Xichen

Sexuality Headcanon:

I'm gonna be honest with you, I don't give a lot of thought to characters' sexuality, at least not in terms of having headcanons for them. In my head, LXC is probably some flavor of bi, except that in practical terms, he's A-Yaosexual.

Gender Headcanon:

I think I've read one fic where LXC was actually a woman - not in the sense that he any flavor of trans, at least that was not the impression I got, he was biologically and emotionally a woman, but he was presenting male because of Political Reasons, and I thought that was quite interesting. But in general, I think he's a cis male.

A ship I have with said character:

Oh I don't know, I just don't know, who could I possibly ship the incomparable First Jade of Lan with - it's Jin Guangyao. Like, I'm not going to say that xiyao is canon and everyone who disagrees is wrong (even though they are) because everyone is allowed to be wrong on Beyonce's internet, but any version of Lan Xichen that isn't in love with Jin Guangyao is a Lan Xichen who is so wildly out of character to me that I just don't know what to do with him.

A BROTP I have with said character:

I think he'd get along really well with Jiang Cheng as friends - like, among the reasons that I don't think they work as romantic partners is that I think Lan Xichen would find being in a relationship with JC utterly exhausting. As a romantic partner, you feel somewhat responsible for managing your partner's moods, in a way that you don't necessarily feel the need to do in a friendship. I just think that the distance of a friendship would give him the opportunity to enjoy Jiang Cheng's cunty tendencies and temper, while not making him feel in any way responsible for managing Jiang Cheng's moods.

A NOTP I have with said character:

That being said, Jiang Cheng is not actually my NOTP for this character. I remain convinced that chengxiyao is a viable ship that just needs the right story to take off, and I'm sure that if I were to read a really good x!cheng fic, where Jin Guangyao is not demonised or erased, I would probably enjoy it.

No, my NOTP is Nie Mingjue. Mainly because I think he's an abusive jerkweed who reminds me of both my murderous ex and my late father (although to be fair to the Great Old One, he never tried to kill me) and I don't think that someone who is incapable of understanding that maybe other people have different priorities and points of view, is a good fit to be in a relationship with anyone who doesn't precisely share his values.

Oh and also Nie Huaisang. Just no. NOPE.

A random headcanon:

Not long after the end of canon, Lan Xichen disappears from his house of seclusion and is never seen again, because he's given the entire jianghu the middle finger and fucked off.

General Opinion over said character:

When I finished the book he was my favourite, and I was initially drawn into thinking more about Jin Guangyao because I was looking for stories where Lan Xichen has a happy ending, and a lot of the time, a happy ending for Lan Xicnen requires a happy ending for JGY as well. In the months since, he's been somewhat supplanted by JGY - it's not that I love him less, it's that I love JGY so much more (send help I am genuinely unwell about Jin Guangyao).

More general opinion - I think Lan Xichen should have the opportunity to go absolutely feral.

Jin Guangyao

My lovely boy, my sweet cheese, my rotten soldier, I love him so much.

Sexuality Headcanon:

I mean, canonically he loves both a man (LXC) and a woman (QS) so, bisexual?

I do think he has a complicated relationship with sex, because of his mother's profession and his father's...everything, but I think that like most of his traumas, he pushes it into a box and never ever thinks about it.

Gender Headcanon:

I think that when he was a small boy, his mother went on her knees every day and thanked all the gods and ancestors that he was a boy, because at that point she must have still hoped that JGS would come for them.

So I don't think that JGY has ever actually thought about his gender beyond 'thank the gods I wasn't born a girl'. Like, he could never allow himself to even consider anything other than being a man, because he was his mother's son, you know?

A ship I have with said character:

Xiyao. They're just so *clenches fist* I love them, your honor. Like, they just so obviously love each other - it's more obvious in CQL, but it's not exactly subtle in the novel either, and I just...my heart breaks for them and I love them so much.

I can also be convinced about Chengyao, because I think that Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao have got some things in common, and the ways in which they differ are very complementary.

A BROTP I have with said character:

I think that he and Wei Wuxian could have been great friends, if the stars had aligned properly.

A NOTP I have with said character:

Obviously it's a free internet and everyone can do what they want, but personally I can't ship my blorbo with someone who tried to murder him three times and hated him so much that even without knowing that JGY had killed him, he became a fierce corpse and escaped the grave to come after him. Just nope.

A random headcanon:

I don't think that JGY would have left the temple that night. I think he was genuinely trying, because at base he's an engine of survival, but honestly I think when push came to shove and he had to leave Lan Xichen and never see him again, I'm not sure he would have done it.

General Opinion over said character:

I love him. he's my favourite character in MDZS, and he's near the top of my list of all time favourite characters.

[terrence-silver]

If you could totally have it your way, how would you see Terry Silver eventually dying? Like, what circumstances do you see leading up to/surrounding it and what would be the cause? How would the various people who knew him react, from beloved to John (if you think he’s outlive him, that is) to other characters of Cobra Kai?

---

Despite what the writers might say or do, I am convinced John Kreese would be utterly devastated and anything but utter devastation would be flat out of character for him. A hill I will die on. This is not only a member of his unit, his best friend for a major chunk of his life (possibly well over forty years and counting) literally possibly the last of his own platoon dying, in a time when the generation that served in Vietnam is slowly becoming fewer and fewer in numbers, but this also the end of an era. The end of an age. The life he saved so many times has just extinguished and he's lived long enough to see that day. Ironic, no? Considering how many times John himself has faked his own death and now, here Terry goes for real, no pretending. This is one snake pit John couldn't fight for Terry over. Even if there's bad blood between them, what John goes through and feels is pretty hard to describe in a small blurb but it's akin to someone closer than your own brother no longer being alive. Akin to losing your own limb. He might play tough otherwise. Might not outright show his grieving, but this is a death I don't reckon John would ever recover from emotionally. It's the type of thing that would haunt him to the end of his days and if anyone disrespected that memory, trust and believe John would smash their nose in for it. He has had the privilege and the right to feud with Terry --- others lose a teeth for it. He's some of the few people outside of Betsy and the members of his unit John would look forward to seeing in the whatever fucking beyond exists out there, maybe even in hell, if that's what it takes.

I think Daniel Larusso would be shocked, perhaps even a bit speculative and paranoid, wondering if this is fake news and another dirty trick of Silver's and initially, after double and even triple checking, he probably wants to be happy and relieved about the fact that someone who's caused him so much pain and trauma is finally gone and that he and his family are safe, but the jubilation falls sour pretty quickly, because yeah, I tend to write Daniel like a good person and I don't figure he could sincerely feel anything more than this deep, unsettled sensation where you just can't be happy once your abuser dies. Not really; you tell yourself you should be, but you validly just can't and in fact I almost see him feeling some sort of way about it, dare I say, falling in something of a conflicted, depressive state not too many people know about because Daniel doesn't want anyone to know about it seeing as how it is pretty hard to explain you actually feel a sort of sympathy for someone quite so rotten. Not even Amanda would be aware of this, if at all possible. If anything, the only person he might confide about his true feelings could be someone like Chozen or doing so in front of Mr. Miyagi's gravestone. Thing is, Daniel is aware Terry Silver will never truly leave and that he will live on the trauma and fears he's embedded in Daniel's psyche and he might decide to make peace with it in a callback to his words to Terry and John that ultimately, it'll be Terry who will be forgotten, deciding to just that; Forget and move on in peace, therein lying his greatest personal victory. Irony of all ironies is that Daniel might be the one of those most affected by Terry's death.

Honestly, I don't see the likes of Kenny Payne, Kyler or any of the kids in Terry's new and renewed Cobra Kai caring too much that he died; I mean, considering how easily they all collectively turned on him and how easily they collectively sided with him in the first place, one gets the impression these kids go with the flow. The trendiest, shiniest new things that teaches them the most badass skills and how to use and abuse said skills to beat and abuse those weaker then themselves, and at that time, it was Cobra Kai under Terry Silver. Tomorrow, it could be another cool dojo under another cool Sensei entirely. The world keeps turning. What I mean to say is, there is almost something tragic how easily Terry was left behind by all of his students and how even easier he'll be forgotten by them if he, figuratively speaking, dies.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 16 - Let's Hear It for the Boy

IN THIS CHAPTER: Science fiction double feature, rotten eggs, and Eddie turns 20 [12.2k]

WARNINGS: bullying (mentions of racism and fatphobia), childhood trauma (hair trauma, child neglect, toxic masculinity), one use of a homophobic slur (f-word), mild spoilers for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Exorcist (specific mentions of the crucifix scene, if you've seen the movie, you know what this is about)

A/N: shout out to my one and only @gutterratt for helping me figure out my way through old horror movies! i'm a wuss so i relied heavily on her opinions to make this work (also read a few entire scripts and scared myself lmao). thank you for being the best teacher i could have asked for. 10 more days until i get to hug the shit out of you <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off-key But that's all right by me, yeah

Thursday, May 15th - 1986

On Eddie’s 20th birthday it rained cats and dogs. There was a light shower during the early morning which stopped at around 10 only to come back with a vengeance after lunch, and by the time the school day had ended, the weather was warm and humid with a sky-obscuring fog that made it seem like it was much later than it actually was. Eddie, as he always did when it rained, offered to take Gareth home so he gave his friend his keys and asked him and Dottie to wait in the van while he finished up a private conversation with Mrs. Vaughn, his Drawing teacher. She was quite impressed with how his portfolio was shaping up, and wanted to know more about the subjects he’d chosen to portray in his art. Some talks were meant to be kept behind closed doors.

Gareth left Dottie at her locker where she was fighting to fit Eddie’s birthday present in her backpack without absolutely destroying the muffin she’d baked for him during Home Ec and headed towards the parking lot to wait for his friends in the safety of the van. Dottie had barely managed to zip up her backpack when a pair of pink sneakers came up to where she was kneeling.

“Do you need help?” a warm, melodic voice asked.

Dottie looked up to find Chrissy Cunningham, the current Queen of Hawkins High, smiling at her like they’d known each other for years. She wasn’t wearing her full cheerleading uniform that day; instead she had chosen cuffed jeans and a lovely cream blouse, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Wow, Dottie thought without an ounce of shame for ogling. She’s gorgeous. Realizing she had been staring up at the kind (almost) stranger, she quickly stood and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, no, thank you! I’ve got it,” Dottie said, and Chrissy smiled even wider if it was even possible.

“You’re Dottie Burke, right? We’re in World History together, you sit with Jeff Patton two seats in front of me?”

“Yup, that’s me! And you’re Chrissy Cunningham, you sit with, um, Melissa?”

“Yes, Melissa Levine,” the blonde’s eyes brightened up, pleased that this conversation was going smoothly. “I know you’re best friends with Eddie so could you give this to him for me?”

Chrissy presented a shiny green gift bag to her. It was carefully sealed with a big transparent sticker from the store where it had been purchased from and a huge silvery bow was tied to the handles. Of all the things she had been expecting her to pull out behind her back, a birthday gift for Eddie hadn’t been in her Top 10 List at all.

“Are you sure? He’ll come back in a sec if you want to give it to him yourself, he’s just talking to a teacher.”

“Yeah, I think he already knows what it is,” Chrissy waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’d wait for him but my boyfriend is in the car already so…”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I can give this to Ed for you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, you’re so nice!” she said, beaming at her. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strong, Eddie said we’d get along so I thought “well, what am I waiting for”, right?”

“You’re fine, seriously,” Dottie laughed; Chrissy’s bubbly energy was contagious. “He told me we’d get along too. Something about you liking Queen and owning all the records?”

“Yes! Gosh, I love Queen! Do you? We should hang out sometime, we can listen to them together.”

“Absolutely, yes. I’d love that.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, sure! Have fun on your date!”

“How did you know I’m going on a date?” Chrissy said, mild intrigue on her face.

“You just look really pretty and you mentioned your boyfriend so I thought you might be going on a date with him,” Dottie explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I like your makeup.”

“Oh,” she said, stopping for a moment.

Chrissy wasn’t a stranger to people telling her she was pretty. She had grown up going to pageants and being paraded as a doll by her mother but the compliments were always the same and regarding things she didn’t care about, like how big her Mom had teased her hair, and how thin she looked like in that formal gown. No one had ever told her something she did for herself, like her daily makeup, was pretty. She gave Dottie a big toothy smile, genuine and warm.

“Thank you! I like your dress!”

“Thanks, it was my Mom’s. It has pockets!” the brunette said, shoving a hand inside the left pocket of her short black jumper dress to demonstrate.

“I love that! Not enough dresses have pockets, it’s a shame.”

They said their goodbyes again and Chrissy disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dottie to consider that maybe she really did need more girl friends. She loved her Hellfire boys, and of course Erica was great, but she had missed the kind of special warmth female friendships gave - the gentle toughness she’d always admired in her Aunts’ actions. Now that she knew what a real friend was supposed to look like thanks to the guys, she realized that whatever she had thought Jeannie was during her life in New York hadn’t exactly been a good example of true friendship. Dottie wondered if, given enough time, Chrissy could become a real friend. She was, after all, good friends with Eddie already and he seemed like a fine judge of character so far.

“You ready to bounce?” Eddie asked, hurrying down the hallway to where she was still standing.

“Yeah! This is for you, by the way,” Dottie said, giving him the gift bag. “It’s from Chrissy.”

“Chris- damnit, I told her not to do it,” he shook his head, a fond smile gracing his face. He accepted the bag and shoved it inside his backpack to protect it from the rain; he had a pretty good idea of what it was but he’d look at it once they were home. “Come on, let’s go.”

He guided Dottie towards the parking lot with a hand on the back of her bag, keeping her close as they ran out into the rain and towards the dry seats of his van. They were almost there when Eddie noticed someone curled into themselves near the furthest column that supported the overhang roof at the entrance, a figure huddled up on the floor wearing what looked like Gareth’s red plaid shirt. He looked at his van and saw instantly that his friend was not sitting inside waiting for them, and the vehicle wasn’t even on. What the fuck, he thought bitterly, taking note that the door on the driver’s side was covered in what looked like a runny viscous liquid. The rain was washing it away, but the white and light brown shells on the floor were enough to confirm his suspicions. Switching gears quickly, he pulled Dottie under his arm and guided her towards Gareth.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking up at him, arm up trying to keep the rain out of her face.

“Gareth!” he yelled for an answer, and the younger boy lifted his teary head up from his knees. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” Dottie exclaimed, rushing to their friend.

“They were waiting for Eddie. Said it was a birthday present,” he sniffed, lifting his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve and putting it down instantly when he saw it was filthy. He smelled like rotten eggs.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Eddie said, crouching next to him.

“Not your fault,” Gareth shrugged. “You always cover for me so… guess it was time I covered you for once.”

“This has happened before?” Dottie asked, and both boys looked at her like it was common sense. “Who- who did this to you? How many times?”

“It isn’t always eggs,” Gareth sniffed again. “One time they threw mud at Donny, called him a pig. Gave Dustin a swirly a couple of times but they don’t touch Mike anymore since they found out Nancy Wheeler is his sister. Andy is the worst, he, um-” he interrupted himself and looked at Eddie.

“Andy Humphrey,” Eddie sighed. “He put a bunch of racist notes in Jeff’s locker for a couple of months last year. We saw him doing it but Higgins didn’t do shit about it. He’s on the basketball team, always wears that stupid hat.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Dottie said. “He’s in my AP Spanish class, he’s barely passing. He cheated on our last pop quiz, he knows I saw because he winked at me like he was trying to get me on his side.”

“Almost everyone on the basketball team sucks,” Gareth said. “I don’t know what Lucas is doing with them.”

“Lucas?”

“Lucas Sinclair. Erica’s brother?” Eddie explained. “He used to play with us before he decided being a freak wasn’t good enough for him.”

“I mean… I don’t blame him. I smell like a sewer,” Gareth grimaced.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you home,” Dottie said, patting his knee to get him to stand up.

“I’ll just walk, I’m gonna get the van dirty.”

“No way, man, not in this thunderstorm. Get in the back,” Eddie instructed.

The three of them headed back to the van, the rain not relenting for a single second. On the bright side, Eddie’s door wasn’t dirty anymore, clean from the constant water streaming upon the metal. On the other hand, Gareth was soaked and shivering by the time he sat himself on a plastic crate at the back of the van, keeping himself away from the blankets and pillows, windows cracked open to let cool air in and rotten egg smell out. They drove to Gareth’s house in silence, only the occasional sniffling coming from the dirty boy wallowing in his own misery could be heard under the vehicle’s rumbling.

When they arrived and pulled up to Gareth’s garage, Eddie wasn’t expecting Dottie to get out too, leaving behind her backpack tucked under the co-pilot seat. He followed the pair to the front door, heard the keys tinkling against each other as his friends walked inside and hurried up to get out of the rain. In the foyer, Dottie peeled off her cardigan and sneakers before directing Gareth to his bathroom.

“Eddie, can you get a chair from the kitchen?” she asked, already pushing Gareth down the hallway.

Eddie complied with her request, bringing one of the aluminum chairs with pleather seats into the Jack and Jill that connected Gareth’s bedroom with his sister’s. Gareth was peeling his dirty sleeveless shirt and sweatshirt off his body, Dottie kneeling near his feet helping him take his rain soaked shoes off.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling softly at Eddie before looking up at Gareth. “You sit.”

“Why can’t I just take a shower?” he complained, but still sat down on the chair.

“Because you’re not only covered in gunk, there’s eggshells in your hair. Let me get them out and we’ll leave you to shower in peace, okay?” she pulled back the bath curtain and got his shampoo and conditioner, coming to stand next to the sink.

The birthday boy watched her work, carefully picking all the shells out of Gareth’s hair and throwing them into the pink waste bin that was hidden next to the toilet. She got rid of the knots in his hair with a glittery blue plastic comb that clearly belonged to Gretchen, wetting it with warm water between each pass. Eddie could feel something bubbling up his chest, but it wasn’t anything like the usual jealousy he swore he had stopped feeling days ago. No, this was something different, much more deep seated, clawing up his throat and threatening to tear his insides apart leaving no prisoners behind. This was something he’d been ignoring for a very long time, from before he even knew a Gareth Coleman or a Dorothy Burke. This padlock had been sealed shut with rust ages ago, the key long forgotten somewhere no one, not even Eddie, would find it anymore.

Dottie poured water on Gareth’s scalp with her hands, making him shiver once and then giggle at himself for his reaction. She worked the shampoo into his curls, pulling his hair once to make him wince when he made a stupid comment that Eddie wasn’t listening. He watched the suds fall into the pure white porcelain of the sink bowl as she washed them away with the utmost patience and care.

“You should be a hairdresser,” Gareth said, eyes closed while he relaxed into her touch.

“I could never. You know that smell when you walk into a salon? I fucking hate it,” she said, snorting at the end.

When was the last time Eddie had gone to a salon for a haircut? Not since living with Wayne, that’s for sure. The last time he’d had a haircut he hadn’t given himself in his own bathroom was back in middle school, when a neighbor buzzed all his hair off during that horrible lice outbreak he’d told Dottie about. He remembered that before he turned 12, before she passed away calmly in her sleep, his Grandma kept his hair rather short, like it had been that summer he’d spent in her care when he was eight. And before that… Eddie didn’t like to remember before that.

Dottie shook the bottle of conditioner until a small blob hit her palm and began weaving her fingers into Gareth’s curls. They were still chatting quietly, their long haired friend hovering in the hallway near the door. Eight years. Eight years since anyone had touched Eddie’s hair, since anyone that wasn’t himself had run a brush through his curls and snapped the damaged ends off with a pair of sharp scissors. He hated getting haircuts from his Grandma - not because she was bad at doing them, but because she always pulled at the knots a little bit too harshly, muttering about how boys with longer hair were unkempt and unruly. And Eddie loved his Grandma so much, and she loved him so much in return, but in those moments there was no denying that she was his father’s mother, and getting haircuts from her only reminded him of Wyatt Munson calling him a faggot because his curls reached the collar of his school shirt before he dropped him off at a cheap salon and returned five hours later, smelling of booze and nicotine and regrets.

Eddie used to feel so guilty whenever he went to the salon. Wyatt would treat him like absolute shit, and then he’d sob quietly in the chair while a middle aged lady told him things like “boys don’t cry” and “it’s just hair, kid, don’t be a brat”, only for Wyatt to return and ask her if she’d turned his little girl into a proper boy. A while back, when Eddie first got his driver’s license, he drove past that salon on his way to Donny’s family restaurant and felt like he’d won the damn lottery when he saw it had been closed for several years. Fuck that place, he’d thought and promptly sped up.

“Hey,” a hand touched his arm, making him jump lightly. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, blinking a few times and focusing on Dottie’s worried face in front of him. “I think I fell asleep for a second.”

“We’re done so… we can go now,” she said, not pushing him for an answer.

She’d seen that face on him before, back when they were arguing about his moldy ceiling, and immediately decided they weren’t going to have this conversation in front of Gareth. The younger boy had a small towel on his head like a nun’s headdress to stop his curls from dripping all over the floor as he gathered his dirty clothes and walked past them towards the laundry room.

“Sorry about all this,” said Gareth, standing under his front door’s frame.

“Wasn’t your fault, man. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” Eddie reassured him, waiting for Dottie to finish putting on her sneakers.

“Better me than you.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you pick the movie tomorrow? Anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Just… don’t pick anything stupid, okay? The Boogey Man sucked ass.”

“You have no fucking taste,” Gareth complained, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, hold on, are we gonna watch a horror film?” Dottie asked in the direction of the younger boy.

“It’s tradition, we always watch horror movies on our birthdays.”

“Can we not do that this time? You know I hate horror. We can do a thriller, that’s like… horror-adjacent, right?”

“Horror-adjac… Dude,” Gareth turned to Eddie, seeking an ally.

It’s not that Eddie was dying to watch a horror film, he really wasn’t. He was happy to watch whatever most of the time, like when Jeff had insisted on watching Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone for some weird reason and he’d gone along for the ride because, well, any movie was still a movie. Eddie loved stories, the more outlandish the better. He wasn’t about to complain about two hours of mindless entertainment, regardless of the subject of the VHS tape in the player. Caught between his two friends, one who looked at him with exasperation at even suggesting a change of plans and the other one with the cutest goddamned pout and rounded eyes he had ever seen, well, he was only human. If Jesus had stumbled, why wouldn’t he do it too?

“Maybe we can skip the horror this time,” he said.

“Come on, man, don’t let her peer-pressure you!”

“Peer-pressure? God, you’re such a little-”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Jesus,” Eddie lifted his hands, getting between them. “How about this? We do a double feature. You each pick one movie and you can’t complain about what the other one chooses, alright? It’s my birthday, don’t make me uninvite you.”

“But-”

“Take it or leave it, Gareth, it’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Gareth grumbled.

“Thank you,” Dottie said, still looking apprehensive but not wanting to push the argument further.

This was a tradition she hadn’t been a part of since its inception and she wasn’t going to fight her way in when they were so graciously holding the door open for her. Friends do stuff they don’t enjoy to make other friends happy sometimes, it’s okay. They’d do it for me. I’ll just… suck it up and watch the floor for two hours, she thought as they said their goodbyes and ran under the rain to get to Eddie’s van. He was excitedly going on about the cake Wayne had gotten for him on the way to the trailer, and Dottie couldn’t find it in herself to care about what horrifying movie Gareth was gonna subject her too when Eddie looked so happy to spend his special day with his Uncle and her.

“Wayne, we’re home!” Eddie yelled, trying to put his key in to open his front door.

Dottie was standing very still in front of Eddie, his chest to her back and arms on either side of her while he wrestled with his keys, shielding her from the storm with his body. The copious raindrops falling on them pinged off the leather jacket that was keeping him cozy and dry, soaking his hair that curtained Dottie’s head from above. She was holding both their backpacks against her chest, trying to protect them and their contents from the rain.

“Wayne!” he yelled again, hitting the door twice with his fist.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” the older man replied from the inside, hurrying up to let them in. "Where were you?"

"Got held up at school," said Eddie, guiding Dot in and closing the door quickly behind his back before shedding his wet jacket. "Talked to that teacher I told you about last night. She said I have talent."

"Coulda told you that myself," Wayne smiled at him, pulling his big boy into a hug and patting his back. "Happy birthday, Ed."

"Thanks, Wayne," Eddie melted into his Uncle. They didn't hug often, less so now that he wasn't a little kid anymore, but if you asked him, his Uncle Wayne gave the best hugs in the entire world because whenever he gave you one, he definitely meant it. "Can we have cake now?"

"Get the candles," Wayne jerked his head towards the kitchen where a set of barely used birthday candles were waiting in the bottom drawer ready to grant a new wish.

While Eddie busied himself putting the candles on a small chocolate cake, Dottie cleared the coffee table, setting his gifts on the floor. There were three presents: Chrissy's shiny green bag that had gotten a bit smushed in Eddie's backpack, a thin rectangle in bright blue paper, and a little package smaller than a hand. Wayne added two to the pile wrapped in the same red paper; one looked soft, the other one was a square box. Dottie's funfetti muffin ended up with its own candle next to the cake.

"Light me up, princess," Eddie said, pointing to a BIC lighter that had been abandoned in the coffee table bowl at some point.

"I can't," Dottie admitted, looking embarrassed. "I don't know how to use that kind of lighter, the flick thing scares me."

"The flick thing?"

"You know, the thingy you have to roll with your thumb? That scrapes something inside and sparks up?"

"The sparkwheel?"

"I don't know what it's called!" Eddie held back a grin. "Don't laugh at me, I don't like how close the spark is to the finger. It's a perfectly reasonable fear, I don't want to burn myself!"

"No, yeah, absolutely. You're totally right" he said, fighting a chuckle. God, she's so fucking cute. He reached into a kitchen drawer and retrieved a small matchbox. “Here, use these.”

“The Hideout,” she read aloud on the front of the box. “That’s where you guys play on Tuesdays, right?”

“Yeah, they have a big bowl of these on the bar. I grab a couple every few weeks, haven’t bought real matches in years.”

“Very smart,” she said, lighting the two candles at the same time Wayne found his old camera tucked away in their storage closet.

Eddie knelt in front of the coffee table, closing his eyes with only one wish in mind. Dottie and Wayne sang to him and he smiled, the sudden flash of the camera in his Uncle’s hands painting his eyelids pink for a brief second. His 19th birthday had been tainted with the knowledge that he was going to be held back for the second time in a row. Wayne had taken him to a diner that night; they’d gotten pancakes for dinner and Eddie had cried and apologized for being such a goddamn failure. The eldest Munson had simply let his tears dry before he’d said, very matter-of-factly: I didn’t finish high school, do you think I’m a failure? What’s important is that you keep tryin’ and see things through even if they get hard. Are you a quitter, Ed?

Please, let ‘86 be my year, Eddie thought as hard as he could, sending his prayer to the universe before he opened his eyes and blew both candles out with one single breath. Dottie clapped and hollered, making them laugh. Wayne nudged her side with his elbow, nodding once in his nephew’s direction.

“Come on, you two. Gimme a nice smile,” he lifted the camera again.

Dottie hurried to sit next to Eddie and he didn’t waste a second pulling her to him, cheeks pressed against each other’s. She smiled brightly, the muffin she’d made for him in her hands like a delicate flower, and his arms around her waist, tongue out in a funny face. Wayne committed the memory to film before Dottie lifted herself up onto her knees, making grabby hands at him, Eddie still holding onto her.

“I’ll take one of you two, Mr. Wayne!” she offered.

“How about we take a group picture?” he said, sitting on the couch behind them and turning the camera around.

The two teens huddled up at his feet, his nephew giving him instructions to frame everyone better (“You gotta go higher, Wayne, half your head will be out of the picture!”). After the flash went off, Dottie went to find a knife to cut the cake while Eddie tore into his gifts, starting with Wayne’s packages. He seemed to already know what the soft looking one was, but still ripped the paper with gusto, a childlike glint in his eyes.

Wayne’s gifts had clearly been picked from a thrift shop, but that didn’t damp Eddie’s excitement in the slightest. He thanked his Uncle profusely for his two new shirts and boxy jean shorts for the summer before moving onto the mystery box which turned out to be a thermos flask with a slightly faded Snoopy print.

“No way!” he said, gleefully. “I’ve been trying to get one of these for ages!”

“I know,” Wayne said, proudly. “Heard you yappin’ about it so I asked Loretta to hold one for me if she ever saw them. Said they got a few of them a couple of months ago so I went and snatched one for you.”

“A couple of months ago? Where did you hide it all this time?”

“Under the seat in my truck,” he laughed, and Dottie was reminded once again of how similar the Munson men truly were.

“Gonna start checking down there around Christmas,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. He passed the flask to Dottie to examine who traded it for a plate of cake.

“This is really cute, Mr. Wayne. Wish mine was pretty like this one.”

“You got one of these?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my Grandpa gave me his old one a few years ago. It looks so ugly, it’s like… plaid? But it keeps water cool in the summer so I can’t really complain. He got it for his fishing trips but he never used it so I got it instead. The perks of being his only grandchild,” she waved her fingers.

“You don’t have cousins?” Wayne asked, digging into his own piece of cake while Eddie picked a new present to open.

“No, both my parents are only children. All my Aunts and Uncles are their friends. I’ve got a big family, but I’m not blood related to any of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie muttered, his attention on the long thin box in his hands.

Chrissy’s gift had turned out to be a red tie. The fabric was soft and silky, slightly shiny, and the tie itself was on the thinner side. There was a simple white card in the bag, it only said “For: Eddie, From: Chrissy” but she’d dotted the I’s with tiny hearts. He caressed the side of the box lightly, staring at it in wonder. He’d never owned a tie, much less one that looked as expensive as this one. When he’d asked Chrissy for advice on what to wear for prom, he’d never imagined she’d take it upon herself to make sure he was presentable. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her for her birthday, maybe Dottie would know how to help.

“That’s nice,” Wayne said, craning his neck to see into the box. “That one yours, Dot?”

“No, this one’s Chrissy’s,” she replied.

“Who’s Chrissy?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie said, realizing he’d never talked to his Uncle about his most unlikely friend. “We’re in Sociology together.”

Dottie knew he was lying; Eddie only shared Sociology with Jeff but it wasn’t like he could tell Wayne he’d become friends with a cheerleader by selling her weed, could he? She noticed how suspicious his Uncle was by his statement and decided to help him out.

“I’m in World History with her, she’s really kind,” Dottie said, making Eddie look up at her too. “We were talking about Queen when you were with Mrs. Vaughn today, she said she liked my dress.”

“She did?”

“Yeah! She liked the pockets,” she smiled at him. “You gonna wear this for prom?”

“I think that’s why she got it for me,” Eddie chuckled. “I told her we’re all wearing Hellfire colors. Gareth got a red bowtie the other day.”

“I still haven’t found a dress I like or that fits right,” she huffed. “Dad said we’re gonna have to go to Indianapolis, we’ve been to every shop in Hawkins already.”

“A lot of shops closed last year ‘cause of the mall,” Wayne said, clearing up the cake plates. “Never reopened after the fire. Damn shame.”

“Can I open these ones?” Eddie interrupted, excited about the two other presents he had left on the pile.

“Sure!”

“Any special order?”

“No, they’re separate from each other.”

He decided to open the bigger one first, fairly confident about it being a book. He tore the paper to find a hardcover notebook, black with an elastic to keep it closed. It looked fancy, but not particularly special, at least not until he opened it. It was sheet music, 14 five-line staffs on every off-white page, binded and with a pocket on the back. He turned to the first sheet, blank, no lines but with a note written in familiar black ink. For my favorite rockstar, from your darling Dottie. With a little daisy at the end. He stared at it for a minute that never seemed to end and looked up at her, big rounded eyes pushing his eyebrows under his fringe.

“You were talking about wanting to write more songs for Corroded Coffin last week at practice, so I thought you might need a place to keep everything organized,” she explained, voice shy and a little soft.

“Dot, I-”

“Open the other one.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the small box, instantly recognizing it as a cassette case. He removed the paper, aware that Wayne was watching them from behind the kitchen bar while he brewed some coffee, and turned the transparent case in his hand. 1986 - E&D was written on the front, colorful stickers decorating the plastic. The song list inside only had one entry: Hot Patootie - Meatloaf (RHPS).

“Just one song?” he asked, confused.

“I thought we could fill it up together. See, I wrote 1986 on this one, but we can make a new one for every year we’re friends so when we get old, we can remember what we were doing that year by the songs we chose. Like a musical scrapbook.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie said, launching himself from the floor and tackling her to the carpet, dissolving into giggles as she fought to sit back down.

“Stop- Jesus, Ed- I don’t like tickles, stop!” she pleaded, writhing on the floor like a worm, thankful that she was wearing colorful leggings under her skirt.

“Who doesn’t like tickles?” he lifted himself up onto hands and knees above her, ceasing the attack but still caging her under his body.

“I get nervous if I can’t breathe right,” she explained, hair fanning out like a halo around her head. Eddie felt his knees go weak. “Also, it makes me feel like I’m gonna pee myself and that’s so embarrassing.”

“Okay, gotcha. No tickling,” he pulled them both into a sitting position and smiled, wrapping one arm around her. “Thank you, I love my gifts. And I already know what song I wanna add next to the mixtape.”

“Do tell.”

“Nope,” he shook his head dramatically. “You’ll find out when it’s done.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, turning to where Wayne was watching them, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Happy birthday, son,” he said, raising his coffee to his mouth, and Eddie thought it might have been the happiest of them all.

After dishes had been washed and the rest of the cake had been put away until a certain birthday boy got the munchies at midnight, Eddie and Dottie decided to sit on the porch just outside his bedroom and leave Wayne to his devices. They lounged side by side on the old ratty couch, him working on his portfolio and her reading Pride and Prejudice out loud in an attempt to get him to finish the last book left in their compulsory reading list before finals week was upon them.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounded families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

The heavy rain hitting the tin roof provided the perfect ambiance for Eddie’s limbs to start feeling heavy and his hand to begin missing the lines he was trying to stay between while he shaded his latest piece. He closed his sketchbook and slid it through his open window to keep it dry in the safety of his bedroom, quickly returning to the couch to continue hearing the tales of the Bennet sisters. He laid down on the cushions, legs hanging off the armrest and head comfortably pillowed by Dottie's lap.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is no another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

What a lovely voice, Eddie thought about Dottie, closing his eyes and letting his impressive imagination create Austen's lavish world behind his eyelids. It wasn't too high-pitched, nor too low, with the cadence of someone who already knows the story they are reading and is aware of where to pause for dramatic effect. This Bingham fellow seems nice. Is this a love triangle-angle?, he wondered. Dottie's voice turned sweet when reading Jane, demure when reading Charlotte, and bratty when reading Lydia. She would be kind when she read Bingham, disdainful when Caroline and solemn when Darcy. But Eddie's favorite so far was her Lizzie voice, which turned sensible and self-assured, yet playful and naïve. He supposed it was because she used her own voice for her most preferred Bennet sister.

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

A page was turned, and Dottie’s hand that had been propped up on her armrest fell onto her lap, where it began playing with Eddie's hair. She had touched it before, albeit briefly, but never had she had the opportunity to absent-mindedly run her fingers through his curls like this. They were so much softer than she had expected. She continued this soothing motion, and Eddie kept his eyes closed, leaving her to wonder if his unusual stillness was due to him falling asleep under her touch. She stopped, not wanting to disturb him when his arm shot up and his hand curled around her wrist.

"Please," he muttered in a broken voice. "Keep going."

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a haircut at a salon, but he also couldn't remember the last time anyone had brushed their fingers through the strands that had grown exponentially since middle school. He couldn't recall anyone helping him wash it, blow drying it for him, pushing it out of his face. And now Dottie was showing him the type of affection and care he'd craved for since before he learned how to tie his own shoes, and the rusty padlock with the missing key was beginning to break with the slightest amount of brute force applied to it.

"Please," Eddie pleaded, and Dottie closed the book, pulling her wrist out of his hand.

"Wait here," she said, moving her thighs so he'd let her get up and promptly disappeared into the trailer.

I've finally done it, he berated himself. I finally scared her off. But she reappeared quickly carrying a cushion and a rounded brush, sitting once again on the ratty couch. She opened her legs and put the cushion on the floor between them, motioning for him to sit down. Eddie complied without questioning it, his shoulders grazing against the colorful nylon leggings that covered her inner thighs while he faced the trailer park currently plunged into darkness by the storm. The first gentle but firm pull of the plastic bristles on his scalp made him shiver. The second one broke the dam.

Dottie brushed his hair in silence, being extra careful when she encountered a knot, undoing it slowly and patiently. Eddie sobbed without fear of judgment, because even though they weren't talking about it, he knew that she understood. How could she not, growing up with a single father who had never once in his life styled long hair before hers began to grow past her shoulders? So she brushed, and he cried, and they let go of yet another invisible weight together. When she put the brush down on the cushions, Eddie expected her to say something to ask him about what was happening. Instead, he felt her fingers running once, twice through the entire length of his hair, parting a small section near the top to his left on the third time. Dottie began braiding the strands into a thin plait, securing it with a small colorful plastic hair tie, the kind Eddie knew she always carried in her bag and had used a couple of times to pull her short curls into low pigtails.

She finished the braid, and moved onto the next one, right below the first one. Dottie wove strand with strand until she had three braids on either side of his head, all thinner than her own pinky. She pulled them back into a ponytail with the rest of his hair and brushed the ends for good measure one more time before dropping her weight on the floor between Eddie and the couch. Her arms curled around his waist, his chest to his back, her hands finding his curled into tight fists on his lap.

“You look like a viking now,” she said, softly.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice frail and small but full of meaning. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck, just above his shirt, and he bit back another sob.

“Happy birthday, Ed,” she muttered, lips still pressed to his skin like she wanted to get the words permanently etched into it.

Dottie did not go back to reading out loud and Eddie didn’t fish his sketchbook from his room for the remainder of the evening. They simply sat together on the porch, tangled with one another as usual, and watched the rain fall and heard the thunder rumble until it was time for her to go home. They didn’t say anything about what had happened, but there was no need. Another padlock laid at their feet, and they weren’t afraid of busting them open anymore.

Friday, May 16th - 1986

“Fred? Fred!” Dottie called, pushing the doors to the Hawkins High newspaper room in a hurry. “Fred, are you here?”

“N-no, he’s- he went to see the nurse!” a familiar voice came from under the stairs.

Sitting on the floor and hiding between a few boxes that contained blank bundles of paper, was Nancy Wheeler. Her pretty calf-length pastel rainbow skirt covered her bent legs, concealing her feet from anyone who walked by. She had been crying, brown mascara staining the skin under her eyes but she clearly wasn’t anymore, face dry and eyes only slightly swollen. When she noticed Dottie coming to kneel next to her, she quickly hid the paper she was holding in her cardigan pocket. They didn’t know each other very well yet, were friendly at best, but Dottie knew that Nancy didn’t have many friends in school. She was highly regarded as a good student, on track to being the valedictorian with a bright future ahead but she could be a bit of a loner when she wasn’t being followed around by Fred Benson or another newspaper club member.

Nancy often chose to spend most of her time in the library studying or working on something for The Weekly Streak, building her journalism portfolio to parade around in search of internships when she left Hawkins for college in Boston. Dottie wasn’t one to gossip with anyone that wasn’t named Gareth Coleman, but Fred liked to talk. On one occasion when the junior was assisting Dottie with an urgent task, he’d babbled on and on about Nancy, her late friend Barb, the fact that she’d been considered Hawkins royalty for a period of time while she dated some popular guy who was captain of the swimming team, and how she’d dumped him rather publicly at a Halloween party and gotten together with known weirdo Jonathan Byers. She tried to steer Fred away from the topic at the time, but he was undeterred: it was clear the boy held some sort of candle for the pretty senior, and who was Dottie to tell him to snuff it out? She’d only known them for less than a month. Still, with the knowledge that Nancy was a bit of an outcast after the tragic death of her best friend, and coupled with the fact that she was Mike’s sister, Dottie couldn’t pretend like she hadn’t seen her distress.

“You okay?” she asked, giving her editor-in-chief enough room to answer however she wanted.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s nothing,” Nancy rolled her shiny blue eyes, waving a hand around. “Everything’s fine.”

“I was dropping by to leave these for Fred,” Dottie explained, showing her the stack of papers she was holding. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he was just complaining about a headache. Nothing serious.”

“Good, okay. I’ll leave this on his station and we can go get a soda. Would that be alright?”

“You want to get a soda with me?” Nancy said, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Of course! We can share M&Ms if you want too. I’ve known you for a month and all I know about you is that you’re going to Emerson and that Dustin thinks you’re a badass.”

“He called me badass?” she laughed, getting to her feet and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“God, the kid loves you. Mike says he had a crush on you when they were younger.”

“Ugh, he did,” Nancy said, remembering the moment fondly. “Dustin is probably my favorite out of all my brother’s friends.”

“He’s so nice. His Mom did a great job with him.”

“Have you met Claudia? She’s quite the character,” she confided as the two girls climbed up the stairs and headed into the empty hallways side by side.

Nancy was funny. That was something Dottie hadn’t been expecting. She was polite and reserved, yes, but funny in the way people who notice things others don’t are. She carried their conversation well, asked Dottie questions to get to know her better while she answered the ones directed at her with ease. Her favorite color was pink, she liked all her classes except Math, was really excited about the release of Top Gun and was going to go see it with her Mom, Karen. She preferred Sprite to Coca-Cola, and in her opinion, the best M&Ms were the red ones, even though they all tasted the same. They sat on a bench just outside the cafeteria and talked about trivial things until they ran out of topics to explore.

“I wish we would have done this earlier,” Dottie said, popping a green candy into her mouth. “You’re really cool, Nance.”

“Thanks,” she said, chuckling shyly. “I think you might be collecting Wheeler siblings at this point. Should I let my Mom know you’re available to babysit Holly?”

“I actually have a lot of experience with babysitting. Give me until finals are done and if you need me, I’m there.”

“Speaking of babysitting, Mike mentioned you’re tutoring Eddie Munson.”

“I’m not really tutoring him, just… helping him keep his focus. We’re good friends.”

“I know. Mike,” Nancy said, like that explained everything and it actually did. “Actually, he… he mentioned you gave him advice a few times. About his girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I remember. Why are teenage boys so scared of their own feelings?”

“Tell me about it,” she scoffed, but immediately turned shy and rigid. “Could you… would it be okay if I asked you for advice too? It’s just- you are impartial in this situation and I think that’s what I need right now.”

“Sure, how can I help?” Dottie turned to her.

Nancy explained that she’d gotten a letter from her boyfriend, Jonathan. Ex-boyfriend, actually, but neither of them were good at the ex part. They had had a big argument over the phone after Spring break when post California-visit, Mike had accidentally let it slip that Jonathan didn’t want to go to Emerson with Nancy and had chosen community school instead. She hadn’t been upset about him changing his plans, but it definitely had hurt to know he’d been lying to her all this time, telling her he’d applied when he hadn’t, stringing her along for months on end. Dottie listened to Nancy retelling how she’d broken up with him, worried about if there were maybe other things he’d been hiding from her, and how Jonathan hadn’t tried to argue back once. He’d called two weeks later from a payphone outside the pizza parlor his new best friend worked at, high off his mind, crying and begging for her to take him back. Nancy had firmly said no, but that she was willing to talk more when he wasn’t on drugs.

This had happened mid-April, and Jonathan hadn’t called since. Instead, a letter addressed to Nancy had arrived that same Friday - four full pages of him not exactly asking for forgiveness, but explaining his reasoning in regards to his lies. Nancy didn’t share all the details, but the essential part was that as the eldest son of a single parent, he felt a sense of duty towards his siblings and didn’t want to move away so soon after they started high school in a new town where they had virtually to no friends and were getting bullied just for daring to exist. She did mention that his new sister Jane, Mike’s girlfriend, was still dealing with the loss of her adoptive father, so that situation on top of the move wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Nancy said, at the end of her long monologue. “If he’d told me all of this before, I would have understood him. He’s right, they are all having a hard time but did he have to lie about it for an entire year?”

“I think both sides are valid,” Dottie said, offering her the last candy in the package. “He’s not wrong for wanting to help his Mom and his siblings out, but he went about it in a really shitty way and you’re allowed to feel betrayed by it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Nancy, he lied to you! It was with the best of intentions, but he still lied. If you feel like that’s a hard limit in your relationship, you should tell him that, and he should respect it. And you. He should always respect you.”

“He does, he’s… I love him.”

“You can love someone and be upset with them at the same time. Just tell him how you feel instead of avoiding each other because you don’t want to get into a fight. Trust your instincts on this one.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna call him this weekend, and if we’re done, we’re done, but at least we handled it like adults.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dottie cheered her on. “Everything will turn out okay, I have faith in you both.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, smiling. “I really needed the pep talk.”

“Anytime. I gotta run now, but I liked hanging out with you.”

“Me too. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole… girl talk thing.”

“Can’t imagine Mike being into that, no,” Dottie said, and Nancy laughed. “See you on Monday?”

“Yes. Monday. Good luck with Hellfire!”

“Good luck with Jonathan. Fight for your love, girl!” she declared dramatically while she sped away.

Nancy watched her go with a curious smile on her face. She’d have to keep an eye on Dorothy Burke from now on, but that could wait. It was Friday, Fred might be down for the count, and she had a newspaper edition to perfect before Monday morning.

Dottie had been to Family Video only twice since moving to Hawkins, once with her Dad and once with the boys, both times during a weekend. When Donny pulled into the parking lot that Friday night after Hellfire, she was fully expecting to see the same greasy dude that smelled like Cheetos she’d seen the last two times but saw instead a pretty tall girl that had her eyes glued to a black and white movie playing on the overhead TV. Gareth immediately ran to the horror section in search for the first part of their double feature, and Dottie approached the girl timidly while Donny smoked outside, waiting for Eddie and Jeff to arrive with warm pizza and fresh ice cream.

“Hi, welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?” the taller girl smiled with tired eyes, the kind you only got if you worked retail.

“Hi! I wanted to rent The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you have it?”

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” she said, lifting the counter and guiding her towards the Musicals section. Another boy was restocking shelves labeled as Comedy next to them.

“Hi there,” he said, waving a VHS case in the air.

“Hi,” Dottie said and turned to where the girl was moving movies around, a frown on her face. “Did someone else beat me to it?”

“No, no, I know it’s here… Just can’t figure out where I put it.”

“What are you looking for?” the boy said, coming to stand above the girl, craning his neck to see the stands.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The cover’s a mouth with red lips.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved it to the Horror section,” he said, brows bunching in the middle.

“Why did you move it? It’s a musical, dingus.”

“How would I know? It says horror in the title!”

“God, you’re hopeless,” the girl shook her head, and Dottie snorted at their antics.

They bickered all the way to the Horror section, Gareth looking up with a confused expression at the scene in front of him. The tall girl moved around him with ease, finding instantly what she was looking for.

“Here you go, sorry about that,” she said, giving the VHS to Dottie.

“You picked a horror movie?” Gareth asked.

“No, it’s a musical.”

“We’re not watching a musical.”

“Why not? It’s really fun, it’s about-”

“Dot, we’re not watching lovey-dovey bullshit on movie night. Come on, pick something else.”

“No!” Dottie put her foot down. “Eddie said we both got one pick and we couldn’t complain about what the other person chose. Jeff hasn’t seen Rocky Horror and I want him to know where Hot Patootie comes from if he’s gonna be singing it for me every week!”

“It’s from a musical? Eddie said it was a Meatloaf song!”

“It is!” the tall girl interrupted with a bright smile. “Meatloaf plays Eddie in it, it’s his only song in the whole movie but it’s a classic.”

“You’ve seen it?” Dottie asked, eyes lighting up at the discovery of a kindred spirit.

“Y-yeah, it’s really good. I love how it constantly breaks the fourth wall, I mean, talking to the audience through a narrator must be one of the most well known resources in theater but it must be so fun to experience in the stage show-”

“Oh my god, yes!” Dottie interrupted her, turning her entire body to face her newest friend. “The stage show is so cool, I saw it twice at, like, the shittiest community theater ever but they killed it every single time. The material is just so good!”

“You saw it live? Where?”

“New York, I used to live there.”

“That’s so cool,” the girl said, her eyes wide.

“Okay, so maybe you two can have your own movie night and watch your girly musical together,” Gareth said, getting back to the topic. “-but we’re not gonna watch that tonight. Birthdays are for horror movies.”

“It says horror in the title, dude,” the other boy said, making Dottie chuckle. Gareth looked at her like she was betraying him.

“Come on, it’s really not bad. You’re gonna like it, I promise. There’s… there’s sex and boobies in it!”

A tense silence spread through Family Video, Dottie painfully aware that she had said something extremely weird in front of people she didn’t know. It was okay that she was using the tantalizing idea of breasts to lure Gareth into saying yes to her movie choice, but she didn’t need to make it so damn obvious she was excited about the prospect of seeing them too. The taller girl was staring at her with a wild blush spreading from her chest up to her ears, but perhaps the other boy’s reactions were much more disconcerting. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, stared at the back of his friend’s head, and then turned to Dottie with a huge grin on his face.

“If you don’t rent this movie, I will. We’re definitely watching it tonight, right, Rob?” he said, and the girl began giggling, her face in her hands.

“You’re such an idiot, Steve,” she gritted out through her laughter.

“Really, man, you’re a dumbass if you miss some boobs because you don’t wanna watch a musical with friends.”

“You’re gonna like it, G, I swear. It was made for the freaks,” Dottie insisted, sharing a grateful smile with the boy who was now known as Steve.

“Ugh, okay, fine! But if you’re picking a dumb musical, I can pick whatever I want and you can’t say no because you’re scared.”

“Those were the rules, we don’t complain about each other’s picks.”

“Not even if I pick The Exorcist?”

“Well… No, it’s- it’s okay. You can pick whatever you want,” she said, but looked very daunted by the idea.

“You sure?”

“She said yes, man,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips like a suburban dad. “Are you gonna rent these two or do you want one more? You can rent up to three every time.”

“Two’s okay, thank you, Steve,” Dottie said, grabbing The Exorcist off the shelf and taking both VHS cases to the counter.

The four of them moved to the main area and Steve busied himself checking them out, asking Gareth for his information to enter into the computer. Dottie was distracted while she looked at the small selection of candy they offered, the tall girl following her movement with her eyes. She knew she’d seen her before, probably at school but who was she? She mentioned she lived in New York…

“You’re Dorothy, right?” she said suddenly.

“How did you know?”

“People used to talk about you a lot back in January. Then you kinda dropped off everyone’s radar.”

“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Kinda joined the outcasts so…”

“I’m in band, I get it.”

“What do you play?”

“Trumpet. Been playing for twelve years.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Dottie said, thinking that she hadn’t done anything in her life with that kind of consistency. “It’s really nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Wha- oh. Oh! My tag!” Robin laughed at herself, looking down at the pins on her vest. “You know, I heard there’s a place in Indy where they do Rocky Horror showings once a month if you ever want to go. I don’t drive b-but I bet Steve can take us.”

“That sounds great, yeah! Is he cool with, y’know, nudity and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely! He doesn’t mind. He’s cool. Yeah, Steve’s… really cool.”

“Aw, you actually love me,” Steve said, giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping, and Robin hit him with a magazine.

“You two are really cute,” Dottie said, smiling at them. “How long have you been together?”

“We’re not-”

“Ew, that’s not-”

“We’re friends,” said Steve.

“Best friends,” added Robin.

“Strictly platonic.”

“With a capital P.”

“Oh. Well, I guess retail bonds you forever,” Dottie laughed, and Steve chuckled.

“You have no idea,” he said, looking over at Robin with a knowing expression.

“Okay, can you stop flirting with King Steve now? You’re grossing me out,” Gareth deadpanned, making Dottie frown.

“I’m not- I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s cool. We’re all friends here,” Steve said. “Enjoy your movie night!”

“Thank you, bye! Bye, Robin,” she waved at the girl, who waved back before Dottie grabbed Gareth’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Gareth said, when she shoved him outside, Donny holding the door open for them.

“Don’t know what you did, but you probably deserved it,” he said, letting the door close behind them, muffling their voices from inside the store.

Steve and Robin watched them get into Donny’s car and pull out behind a beat up brown Chevy van, both vehicles disappearing down the road together. When the tail lights were no longer able to be seen, they turned to each other with curious expressions.

“Was she-” Robin asked.

“I think she was, yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What did I tell you?” Steve said, going back to where he had been restocking before all the commotion. “Boobies.”

“Stop saying boobies!”

When Dottie asked to sit next to him to watch The Exorcist, Eddie imagined a scenario where she’d be a little bit scared and seek him out for comfort. After all, cuddling on a couch wasn’t something they’d never done before, blurring the line between friendly touches and something more every day that went by. She suggested eating first, putting the movie in later, and no one complained about the request, eager to stuff their faces after a long day of school and extracurriculars on top. Jeff’s basement was a cozy hangout spot with a door that led to a side entrance, perfect for sneaking out for a smoke between his mother’s carefully manicured rose bushes. The tan carpet and wooden walls were welcoming, if not slightly tacky, and the space had been filled in with a big couch and two armchairs, a huge TV where Jeff’s dad liked to watch football, and a great sound system that had probably been top-of-the-line ten years prior. They gotten their fill of cheese and soda, Whitesnake and Black Sabbath playing in the background, and then retreated to their seats for the movie: Eddie, Dottie, and Jeff on the couch, Donny to Jeff’s left as far away from the TV as he could sit, and Gareth on the remaining Lay-Z-Boy to Eddie’s right, bowl of popcorn for himself on his lap.

As soon as the movie started, it was clear Eddie’s expectations had been sorely mistaken. Dottie started stiff as a board between the two boys, slowly sinking into the couch as the minutes ticked, head hidden behind her knees. Jeff had a bit of success in getting her to relax when he attempted to tell her every time it was safe to look up, but after a miscalculation of the length of a scene involving various medical procedures, her eyes never went beyond the coffee table again. Gareth and Donny’s constant commentary helped ease the uncomfortable air in the room, but it was clear to Eddie that Dottie was not enjoying this situation one bit. Forgoing any ideas of romance, he pulled her into his side, letting her bury her head into his shirt as she tried to ignore the sounds coming from the TV while Regan thrashed on a hospital bed calling for her mother.

Donny looked at Eddie pointedly during a quiet moment, but he pretended not to see it, choosing instead to rub big circles on Dottie’s back in an attempt to calm down her heart rate, beating wildly against the side of his chest like it was trying to get out of her body. Progressively through the 122 minutes that the movie lasted, she pressed more and more of herself against Eddie trying to shield herself from the horrors on the screen, and truthfully, if he hadn’t been so distracted trying to comfort her, he would have been terrified too. By the time Regan was gilding down the stairs on all fours, Jeff was covering half his face with a decorative pillow. When she began hurting herself with a crucifix, even Donny who had been somewhat unaffected until that moment let out a perturbed “Jesus Christ”. By the time the actual exorcism had began, Donny looked like he desperately needed a cig, Jeff was threatening to throw up if Regan threw up again, and Dottie was shaking so much that Eddie straight up manhandled her into his lap like a child and covered the ear that wasn’t pressed up against his chest with his own hand. Credits rolled, and Gareth was the only one that moved out of his chair to stretch and turn on the lights, face pallid when he saw the angry faces of his friends.

“Uh…”

“Are you fucking serious, Gareth?” Donny said in disbelief, knees cracking with the sudden movement of standing up after two hours. “That shit was so fucked up!”

“Please don’t fight,” Jeff said tiredly, letting his pillow drop to the floor.

“Oh, I’m fighting,” Donny doubled down. “Look at Dot! You know she hates horror movies and you get this one? Couldn’t you get fucking Gremlins instead?”

“It’s not that scary, it’s so obvious everything’s totally fake! You can see the tube stuck to her head when she throws up!”

“That was so fucking gross,” Jeff added, still looking a little green himself.

“It’s okay-” Dottie began, wiping under her eyes with the sleeve of her red cardigan, but Donny interrupted her again.

“This is what you were giving her shit for in the video store?”

“Okay, shit- I get it. I fucked up,” Gareth lifted his hands. “I honestly didn’t think it was that scary the first time I saw it.”

“Man, you need to see a shrink if that shit didn’t scare you,” Eddie said, no longer all cozied up to Dottie, but still keeping one arm around her for support.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth looked at Dot, who was the most affected out of his friends. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like ass for two hours. I thought we’d have fun with it.”

“You’re mean, and I hate you, but it’s okay,” she said, grumpily pouting but lifting her arms to ask him for a hug which he immediately gave her. “Just don’t do it again. And you have to go with me to the bathroom now because I’m gonna pee myself and I don’t wanna be in there alone.”

“I’ll hold your hand while you pee, you big wuss.”

Gareth and Dottie climbed up the stairs, him cracking the stupidest jokes to get her to relax while Jeff busied himself going to grab the ice cream so everyone could cool down before the second movie. Donny got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and nodded at Eddie to follow him outside. They pressed their backs to the cold brick, the lights spilling out from the glass panel on the door illuminating their faces with warm yellow tones. They smoked for a few minutes in silence, looking out onto the fenced-in backyard.

“That shit was wild,” Donny said. "Can't believe they made a twelve-year-old pretend to stab her own pussy with a fucking cross."

"You think that actress was really 12?" Eddie mused.

"Well, she looked like it."

"Yeah, but... maybe she was like 16 and just looks really small? Dunno, but that was crazy. Was she really telling that priest to fuck that other priest?"

"Yeah," Donny chuckled, throwing a bit of ash to the ground. "Saw you, by the way."

"Saw me?"

"You two. Dottie sitting on your lap."

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie scoffed.

"I'm not saying anything weird was happening. Just that I saw you."

"She was terrified, man. Never seen her shake like that, and I've seen her scared before," the eldest said, bitterly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm telling you, I could feel her fucking heartbeat and that shit didn’t feel healthy. She's gonna sleep with her lights on for a week."

"Shit. Didn't realize it was that bad or I would have said something. Honestly thought she was playing it up a little bit, getting cozy with you."

"Nah, she's not like that."

"How do you know?" Eddie shrugged, and Donny narrowed his eyes. "What's been going with you two lately? You're like, attached at the hip."

Eddie took his time to answer, letting the smoke in his lungs leave his body slowly, savoring the peace and quiet of the Friday night. Donny had been his first friend in the group, and if anyone deserved honesty after showing him so much loyalty, it was him. Maybe he'd have valuable insight to share with him in return.

"I'm whipped, Don. That's what's going on," Eddie said.

"Tell me something I don't know, dude."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes. I don't think the others have noticed yet."

"Yeah, well, it's bad. Like really, really bad. Like I'm one more pout away from dropping on one knee and asking her to be the new Mrs. Munson bad."

"Jesus."

"Yup."

"So it's not just a crush? Are you, like, seriously in love with her?"

"I'm gonna go to prom and wear a tie for her. Take a wild fucking guess."

Donny stared at Eddie for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. The long haired boy lifted an eyebrow, questioning.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"I don't deserve her."

"Ed-"

"I just don't want to drag her down, y'know? She has all these plans, she’s gonna go to college, do cool stuff. I want to ask her when I have something real to offer. After graduation, once I get a job."

"Eddie, has it ever occurred to you that she really fucking likes you right now? You know, without all that extra shit?"

"I know she does."

"You do?" Donny looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I'm stupid, not blind. Dunno when she started to like me but yeah, I know she does."

"When did you figure it out?"

"We spent Mother's Day together."

"Oh."

"That's when I realized, damn, she must really like me to spend such a big day like this with me. And then her Dad gave me a manly talk so I just kinda put two and two together."

"Does she know you know?"

"I don't know if she even knows herself. She was telling me the other day that it's stupid boys and girls can't be friends without people reading too much into it. Maybe she’s in denial. I was.

“You were?”

“For like two days, yeah,” Eddie admitted.

"I'll ask Gareth about it. I bet he knows."

"You think?"

"They act like siblings all the time, if someone knows, it's him," Donny assured him, putting his cig out against the brick wall. "Hurry up though, she might get tired of waiting."

"Just a couple more weeks. Until I know if I graduate or not. It's the bare fucking minimum but she deserves it."

"Alright. I'm rooting for you, man. Go make me proud."

"Thanks, dude."

They returned to the basement after their smoke break, Donny giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder when they saw Dottie and Jeff back on the couch, heads together over a big tub of vanilla ice cream. Gareth was sitting on the floor in front of them scooping chocolate into a bowl that already had strawberry and vanilla in it. She was explaining the basics of the movie they were about to watch, warning them that things weren’t what they seemed and that it was about to get weird. Jeff looked terribly excited about the prospect of some lighthearted fun, and whatever talk Gareth and Dottie had had while they were in the bathroom (he’d apologized again while he stood in a corner, back to her and his eyes closed for good measure while she peed) had left him equally curious. The boy heard the words “boobs” and “murder” and decided he was all in for the experience.

Once everyone was back in their seats and had a cold treat in their hands to enjoy during the movie, lights went off and bright red lips filled the screen. Michael Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still, but he told us… where we stand, Dottie mouthed following the lyrics, spoon resting on her lower lip. It was a complete 180 from the previous feature, her eyes now glued to the moving images, only rousing from her hypnosis to fill her spoon with more ice cream when Jeff prompted her to do so. She encouraged the boys to participate, instructing them to say “Janet” or “Oh, Brad” in a bored tone along with Riff Raff and Magenta during Dammit Janet or teaching them the steps to The Time Warp. Donny and Jeff, ever the performers, immediately jumped to action when Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul began, and Eddie twirled Dottie around proving himself to be quite the capable dancer when he put effort into it. Even Gareth got into the festivities when the pickaxe came out.

“Okay, that was awesome,” Jeff said while the credits were still rolling. “Didn’t know musicals could be, y’know, not Grease.”

“Take that back, Grease is legit,” Donny threatened him with his spoon.

“Less boobs than I was promised but still pretty good,” laughed Gareth, and Dottie chucked a pillow at his head.

“Looks like movie night is a success all thanks to Dot,” Eddie said, grinning at the girl that couldn’t sing for shit, but still knew all the lyrics to every beat of the musical. “Gareth, you’re banned from picking movies for a month.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged.

“Are there more musicals like this?” Jeff asked, and Eddie could see Dottie’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Well, there’s one about a demon barber…”

Eddie’s 20th birthday had been nothing like he was used to, but as he sat in Jeff’s brown-looking basement, his crush resting her weight against his shoulder as she animatedly explained to their friends the plot of Sweeney Tood: The Demon Barber of Fleet… Street, his spoon full of strawberry ice cream, and a pre-rolled joint in his backpack they were definitely going to sneakily smoke in the back of his van at some point during the night, he felt truly lucky for the first time in years. Everything was going to change for them in a few weeks, but Eddie really hoped that his 21st birthday would be as happy, if not more, as his 20th had been.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean