#I don’t agree with her about a lot of things but she’s one of the few people I can be 100% honest with

[silknspice]

ARCANE CHARACTERS AS ROMANCE TROPES

⎯ ୨୧ pairings: vi x reader, jinx x reader

⎯ ୨୧ content: pure fluff, mentions of alcohol, lying, swearing, first love and fake dating tropes used, lowercase intended, not proofread

vi ⎯ fake dating

fake dating! vi       who made the bet with you at one of jayce’s frat parties. she and caitlyn were officially over, the woman turning to the warmth of maddie to prove that she’d “moved on”, which made vi look like the loser. she couldn’t stand that. getting with the woman she told vi “not to worry about” was low. the only thing to do was go lower- or rather higher. you were caitlyn’s kryptonite. intelligent, charming, fashionable, every time you were around during your friend group’s hangouts she clung onto vi’s arm as if you were a magnet and she was the strongest metal. as if when she let go, vi would fly away and straight into your arms. 

fake dating! vi       who approached you while your other friends were occupied, going in with nothing but a red solo cup, cocky smile, and a dream. she soon realized that you’d be a challenge to crack, resorting to begging. 

“c’mon pretty!” the pinkett pleaded, moving every which way around you as you continuously turned your body to avoid her gaze. only when she took your plastic cup and held it higher than you could reach, your bodies inches apart as she gazed down on you, did you cave. 

“fine, you baby!” you huffed out with a big exhale. the girl paid the diss no mind as she lowered her arm, leaning in to whisper despite the loud party atmosphere. her words tickled the side of your ear, and you could practically sense her shit-eating grin. 

“i’ll make it worth your while.”

it’s not that you didn’t want to say yes at the first sound of the question. it was the reason why this bet came to be that made your stomach turn. after some instagram stories, lots of pda, and almost everyone on campus whispering about the two of you, caitlyn would be crawling back to vi in no time. she’d have the power back. at least that’s what she thought. 

it wasn’t the acting that worried you, it was your true feelings. 

fake dating! vi       who doesn’t understand why you’re so uptight about the situation. you invite her to your house sunday, a piece of loose leaf paper and a pink sharpie on the coffee table. on the top:  “ ୨୧ rules ୨୧ “ in your pretty handwriting. 

“rules?” she snorted, arms resting on the top of the couch while she leaned back into the plush throw pillows. you sat opposite of her on the ground, her wide man spreading right in front of you making your head fuzzy. 

you look down at your decorated paper and back up at the girl with perfectly furrowed brows. “of course? what, you thought you were just gonna have your way with me?” 

a smile quickly grew on the girl’s face, stifling a laugh at your unfortunate word choice. 

“you know what i mean!” you whined, picking up the sharpie and uncapping it. “you’re chaotic. i need some guidelines so you don’t throw me into some absolutely heinous situation.” 

fake dating! vi       and you who agreed to the following terms after a very unproductive hour of talking: no telling anybody that this is fake (ESPECIALLY POWDER, blabbermouth), watch 10 things i hate about you together (vi hasn’t seen this!?!), yn comes to all of vi’s hockey games and after parties, and no tongue when kissing. vi groaned and debated with you for 15 minutes after you suggested the last one. you claimed there was ‘no need’ for it, she claimed no tongue wasn't convincing anyone that you were a serious couple. finally, you put a question mark next to the rule. you’ll just have to revisit that one later. 

fake dating! vi       who shifted in her seat, patting her lap twice in an unbothered manner once you completed the list.

“okay, c’mere.” 

you looked up from the paper you were folding, brows furrowing in confusion. “‘scuse me?” the girl didn’t repeat herself, staring at you expectantly. you stood, walking around the coffee table cautiously and standing in between her legs with your hands on your hips. 

fake dating! vi       who scoffed and pulled you into her lap, having you straddle her with her hands on your hips while you looked at her as if she had five heads. “listen, we’re gonna have to do a bunch of shit in front of cait,” she started. “right..” you followed up, waiting for the explanation. “so, we need to practice. you know, so that you don’t freeze up or somethin’.” you scoffed, shoving her shoulder. “i’ve kissed people before vi, sorry to burst your bubble.” she grinned at that, tilting her head up at you. 

“yeah, but you’ve never kissed me, honey.” 

fake dating! vi       who got a little carried away when practising your “fake” passionate kisses, mumbling little quips like “no no, like this” and “restart, you’ve gotta act more natural”. what was supposed to be a fast practice kiss ended up lasting 15 minutes. you ended up fixing your rules list one last time.  no tongue when kissing?  tongue is fine

fake dating! vi       who leaves one of her clean jerseys at your house. when gameday comes, you, mel, and powder spend the hour before the game getting ready for your lovers. jersey clad bodies, blue and white ribbons in your hair (your school colors of course), and eye black on your cheekbones, except yours was pink (for obvious reasons). 

fake dating! vi       who’s brain short circuits when she first spots you in the stands, and again when she, ekko, and jayce meet with you girls after the game. seeing her in uniform, all aggressive and cocky out on the ice had you all but drooling in the stands. seeing you all dressed up in her attire got a rise out of her, and a different rise out of caitlyn as she stormed out of the locker room and past the six of you. you gave each other grins and a high five to mask the cheesy smiles accompanying your faces as you admired each other.

fake dating! vi       who takes your hand at the crowded after party, pulling you through the drunken community and up the stairs to one of her teammates rooms. you’re utterly confused as she shuts the door behind you both and reaches over her head to pull her compression shirt off. 

“the hell are you doing?” you stare straight at vi with wide eyes, but don’t dare to cover them. 

“jayce said he’s sending caitlyn up here for somethin’,” she started, finally peeling the form fitting black fabric off of her body. she looked to you, eyes flicking down then back up. “well? what are you waiting for? strip.” she spoke in too calm of a manner, like she was concealing her true tone underneath. 

“oh you’re crazy.” you shake your head, not moving as vi moves over to you. “just-  take off your clothes! i just want her to think we were gonna do it.”  

you look at her as if her previous five heads had grown to ten, grabbing the hem of your cropped top and pulling it over your head. at the sound of footsteps down the hall, you rushed to the bed, vi laying back and your body sitting atop hers. warm skin smushed together. glossy eyes admiring each others bodies as pupils unknowingly dilate. vi wondered what would happen if she unhooked the clasp of your bra that she was fiddling with. you wondered when the day would come where she begged to unclasp it. 

“just like we practiced, honey?” she asked with her sweet and soft voice, foreign to everyone but you as your lips locked and the door swung open. 

fake dating! vi       who didn’t realize how clear her conflicting feelings were until her sister teased her on a saturday morning at ekko’s house. “i see the way she looks at you, and the way you admire her when you think no one’s looking. you’ve got it baaad, sis.”

fake dating! vi       who has been falling for you more and more ever since this stupid deal began. she’s building the courage to let you know just how much you mean to her and make you her real girlfriend. 

jinx ⎯ first love/teenage love

first love! jinx     who became infatuated with you when she saw you at practice for the first time, whether you cheer, play a sport, or dance. the way you bit your lip in focus, the way you move in your element, and the sweat that had your attire clinging to you made her brain go completely numb.

first love! jinx     who pretended not to know you as ekko introduced you, asking if the three of you could be partners for a science project. she’d already stalked your instagram and had it ready to follow as soon as she left the classroom. 

first love! jinx     who wasted no time getting comfortable with you. movie nights at her house, late night drives, and the parties. she partied more than one should, saying that’s “what highschool is all about”. she, ekko, vi, caitlyn, mel, jayce, and you all spread out in caitlyn’s glamorous bedroom from the plush bean bags to the girl’s bed, pregaming, chatting, and getting ready for the night. 

first love! jinx     who always had you do her makeup when going out, claiming it was to “practice the abstract things” you were too afraid to do on yourself. for her, it was the perfect chance to have you close. her hands rested on your hips and moved to the small of your back as you straddled her. your soft fingers cupped her chin gently to hold her face still while you coated her lashes with mascara. she absentmindedly traced meaningless patterns on the skin exposed by your cropped top, never daring to take her eyes off of you. 

“all done!” you exclaimed, holding up the mini compact mirror for the bluenette to admire herself. 

“you’re an artist toots, always makin’ me look s’ pretty.” the girl wrapped her arms further around you, causing you to giggle while she embraces you with a cheeky grin.

“damn, you smell good,” she whispered, just soft enough to share the thought with you and make you melt. 

first love! jinx     who confessed by accident when you resided in your favorite spot: the rooftop. you were babbling about college and all of your hopes and worries for the future. everything was changing so fast, and you just wanted to know it was all going to be okay. 

you shifted in your position, body tense as you lay facing the ombre sky. “you just gotta promise me that even if we don’t go to the same university, we’ll both call each other all the time and try to visit as often as possible. oh, and you have to-” the girl stopped you with a hand to the cheek, gently moving your face to look her in the eyes. she was laid on her side to have you in her full view. “you worry too damn much,” she said in a tone foreign to her. it was gentle and almost breathless, like she didn’t want to scare you away. “you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. not when I love you this much.” 

the reason for the shock on your face and the gasp from your soft “o” shaped lips didn’t register until she thought back on her words, face morphing into one of horror and worry. what would you say? did she just screw things up? 

“...took you long enough.” you whispered through a grin, placing a hand atop hers on your cheek. 

first love! jinx     who, once you’re dating, loves sneaking into your room late at night. you’d say good night to your family, put on a special pair of pajamas and lie under the covers awaiting the soft knock at your window. once shes there you hop out of bed, racing to your window and deny opening it for just a moment to tease her out in the cold of night. 

first love! jinx     who loves having you all to herself. once inside, her arms immediately find their way around your waist and don't let go until you reach your bed. she only releases for a moment before pulling you under the covers and onto her lap, her hands sliding up your shirt and lips finding the sweet spot on your neck. to her, keeping you quiet all night is some fun challenge. 

first love! jinx     who always forgets to leave before sunrise, resulting in you both waking up in a panic when your parents knock at the door. you quickly shout out “just a minute!” hushed, frantic whispers follow before she hides under your bed or inside your walk-in closet, doing her best to suppress her giggles of adrenaline. 

this was supposed to include ekko and cait too but i got way too carried away, love my girls <33

©silknspice

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 7

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: None, I think!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read the entire series, and for being patient with me for this last chapter! I had some trouble writing it, but I hope it's up to standard :) Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Y/N’s brain was fuzzy when she woke up the next morning, as though a fog had settled over her. The room was dim, curtains ruffling slightly from the breeze drifting through the open space. She felt warm and comfy in the big bed until she realised why – she was cuddled up to Lando again. Her first instinct was to pull away till she remembered the night before. The fight, the club, the kiss... They had kissed. She had finally admitted her feelings for Lando, and he had felt the same. 

Her lips twitched into a giddy smile the thought, and if her leg wasn’t stuck between Lando’s she probably would have kicked her feet in excitement. Instead, she tightened her grip around Lando’s waist and cuddled closer, pressing her nose against his back as she breathed in his scent. It was only a few more minutes before Lando stirred, his sleepy confusion melting into a lazy smile at the unfamiliar but welcome feeling of her arms wrapped around him.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, turning over to face the woman, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Hi,” she mumbled shyly as Lando pulled her closer.

“How are you feeling this fine morning?” Lando asked her teasingly.

“Good, you?”

“Hm, me too. Especially with you lying next to me,” he replied, grinning cheekily.

Y/N blushed at his blatant flirting – had he always been this obvious? She tried to hide her flushed face in his chest, but Lando had already seen it. He chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair affectionately. He couldn’t be happier: he had the girl of his dreams lying against him, shy and adorable in the way that made his chest ache. After their moment on the beach yesterday, he certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

“We should get ready, no?” Y/N mumbled though she made no move to leave his arms. 

“Don’t want to leave the bed yet,” Lando murmured back, tightening his hold on her slightly.

She chuckled. “Well, I think I’d like some breakfast soon. Don’t you?”

“Don’t they have room service here?”

“Lando,” Y/N tutted, resting her chin on his chest so she could watch him, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Fine, but I’m not doing this willingly,” he complained before getting up. 

They got ready slowly, taking their time as they got dressed, talking about unimportant things as they waited for the elevator. They walked to the hotel restaurant leisurely, savouring their short moment alone before they saw the others.

“Good morning,” Y/N said cheerfully as she slid into an empty seat at the table. 

“Good morning, indeed," Pietra replied, her smirk giving away her suspicion at Y/N’s unusually chirpy behaviour. “Good morning, indeed. "You're in a good mood. Sleep well?” She asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

Y/N, unlike her oblivious brother, caught the meaning behind it straight away, a flush coming over her face. “I slept fine,” she replied quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced at her brother. Thank God he never paid attention.

“How was your night?” She deflected, remembering the not-so-secret kisses between her brother and his girlfriend in the elevator. Max smiled cheekily, placing an arm on the back of Pietra’s chair before answering smugly, “Very good.” 

Safe to say, Y/N immediately regretted that question, her smile falling from her face straight away. She cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Right.”

“Any ideas for our last day here?” She continued, desperate to steer the conversation away from last night.

“I mean, it’s rather warm today. We could go to the beach again?” Lando suggested, sending Y/N a discreet wink when she looked at him. Of course, he’d want to – he surely remembered how she’d looked at him yesterday.

“Again? Isn’t there something else we could do?”

“What? You didn’t enjoy the beach? I thought you quite liked the view,” Lando teased, his tone so smug it took all Y/N’s effort not to roll her eyes. “Well, I suppose we could go golfing again,” he continued after pretending to think for a second.

She groaned. “No. I’m not golfing again, especially since you won’t let me drive the cart. Unless,” she added sweetly, batting her eyelashes, “you’ve changed your mind?” Lando merely shook his head, eyes wide as if he’d do anything to avoid that from ever happening again.

Y/N sighed. “Beach it is, then.”

Getting ready for their day trip felt familiar; Lando leaning casually against the doorjamb, pretending to watch her pack her bag while his gaze flitted over her, lingering on the way her cover-up barely concealed her figure. The way his hand rested on her back as they crossed the street, his eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror as he drove – the only difference with yesterday was that they were now… Dating? Y/N wasn’t entirely sure, though. They had talked about their feelings, and that they were mutual, but they hadn’t confirmed where they stood now.

Y/N walked beside Pietra as they headed down the beach in search of the perfect spot to set up. “So, what exactly happened between you and Lando last night? You two seemed very close this morning – closer than ever before, I think. And no more fighting than usual… So? Did you make up or make out?” Pietra said with a mischievous smile as Y/N blushed at her directness.

“Both, I guess,” she mumbled. “But don’t tell Max, we’re not official yet, I think.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, mentally going over the conversation again.

“You think?” Pietra asked, cocking a brow.

“Well, we admitted we like each other and agreed we didn’t want the kiss to be a one-time thing, but he didn’t exactly ask me to be his girlfriend or anything. So… I think we’re dating? Maybe?”

“Look at you,” Pietra said excitedly, “you’re dating Lando Norris! And you made out? I’m so proud of you!” The smile on her face was big and victorious as she squeezed her closer in a side hug.

Y/N laughed at the expression. “Well, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think we’d have gotten together anytime soon.”

“Hm, I second that.”

“Right? Lando’s not good at flirting, no matter how much he thinks he is.”

Pietra looked at her incredulously. “I hate to say it, but I think you were the problem, babe. You’re as oblivious as your brother; didn’t notice he was in love with you for years. He literally told you straight to your face several times.”

Y/N scoffed. “He did not. Besides, whatever he calls flirting is clearly teasing, or just being annoying.”

“Whatever you say... I won’t tell Max, by the way. But just so you know, he approves.”

“He does? That’s a relief.”

“Yeah, I think he told Lando a few days ago that he knew Lando likes you, and that he was okay with it. So, you’re good. Doesn’t mean you should be kissing or touching in front of him though. But I guess you know that, with how he reacts to you being around men and all.”

Y/N nodded, before thanking her. They settled down in a place on the beach not much later. Y/N layed down her towel, settling down under the shadow of the parasol and rummaging through her bag for her book. She was about to open it when Lando stopped her, pulling her up from her towel before she could get comfortable. “Let’s go swimming this time? Please?” He asked her.

“But my book… I want to finish it before we leave tomorrow,” she mumbled with a pout.

Lando’s hand slid down her arm to hold her hand, slightly pulling on it. “Just a little while,” he tried again. “Or do I have to steal it away from you again?” 

Y/N’s pout morphed into a sneaky smile at his need for attention before she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Alright, then.”

Lando grinned at her response, waiting for her to rid of her cover-up. He was watching her intently, taking in her beauty, the way her hair moved in the warm breeze, and how the sunlight lit up her skin. His adoring gaze was obvious, even to Max, and although Max already knew about Lando’s crush on his sister (or rather, his infatuation), Lando didn’t want to provoke him. He quickly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the shells littering the beach, and pulled Y/N along as soon as she was ready, wanting to be away from Max’s prying sooner rather than later.

Once the water was up to their waists and Max and Pietra were far away, Lando tugged Y/N closer, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She reciprocated immediately, holding onto his shoulders tightly while his hands steadied her in the rocking water.  

“Lando,” Y/N murmured between his kisses, and he only hummed in response.

“We need to be careful, Lan,” she said when he finally gave her enough space to pull away.

A frown came over his face. “Careful? What do you mean?”

“Max,” Y/N clarified. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him in on this just yet. I mean, I’m not even sure what this is exactly…”

“You’re not sure what we are?” Lando asked, his grip on her waist tightening.

“I mean… We never talked about what—”

“We did,” Lando cut her off. “I said I like you, you said you like me, we said we don’t want this to be a one-time thing. You’re my girlfriend now.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. Her lips parted slightly as she processed his words, and Lando smiled, clearly entertained by her reaction.

“You always overcomplicate everything. It’s not that difficult, Y/N.” 

Lando’s fingers combed through her hair before settling on her jaw, pulling her face a little nearer to his. He leant in closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

“Now that’s settled, can I kiss you in public?”

Y/N laughed softly before nodding, pulling him into another kiss – slow, soft, adoring. Her hands trailed up his shoulders, to the hair at the edge of his neck where she pulled him closer, just for a little while.

“So where did we land on the brother problem?”

“You can decide. He’s your brother. If you want him to know, we’ll tell him. If not, I don’t mind keeping this just between us for a bit,” Lando stated, his hand sliding down her back reassuringly.

“I’m not sure,” she said, fiddling with the hair at the back of Lando’s head. “P told me that he’s alright with it, that apparently he told you it’s okay.” Lando nods in response, confirming that Pietra was correct. “What do you think?”

“He’ll figure it out eventually. We might as well tell him now so we won’t have to hide it.”

Y/N hummed in thought, considering the options. “You’re right, so we tell him?”

“Perfect. Let’s tell him after lunch. That gives us a few hours to mentally prepare, and, you know, enjoy this.”

He leant in for another kiss, and Y/N laughed softly, letting herself melt into it before she pushed him away, into the water. Lando looked at her in shock and offence when he resurfaced. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, shaking water from his hair before lunging for her. Y/N squealed, attempting to escape, but Lando grabbed her leg, pulling it out from under her. She fell into the water with a laugh, splashing him in retaliation.

– – – – –

Back on the beach, Max was sprawled out under the sun, seemingly attempting to get a tan while Pietra was reading her magazine. When two shadows fell over her, she glanced up, her lips twitching into a knowing smirk when she noticed the poorly hidden intertwined pinkies.

“Have fun?” she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Y/N cleared her throat, quickly dropping her hand from Lando’s. “It was fine,” she replied, her tone casual but her cheeks betraying her with a slight flush.

They rested in the sun for a while, to dry up, before they grabbed lunch at one of the nearby stands. Y/N slid onto the bench of one of the picnic tables, her box of food in hand.  

Lunch was casual, though Y/N couldn’t ignore the tension building inside her. She picked at her food, stealing occasional glances at Max, who seemed blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary.

To be fair, the situation almost seemd normal, if it wasn't for Lando. Throughout the meal, he constantly leant in close to whisper something in her ear, or he rested his hand on her thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles that made it hard to concentrate. He stole fries off her plate with zero shame, grinning mischievously when she swatted his hand away and teased her when she spilt ketchup on her cover-up. Not to mention, he would lean into her personal space whenever he felt like it. 

Lando's confidence only heightened her nerves; he was so obvious in his affection, so unbothered by the risk of Max noticing it. It was honestly a wonder Max hadn't commented on it yet, but he would if Lando didn't stop soon.

When they finished eating, Lando straightened up in his seat and clapped his hands together, the sound loud enough to catch everyone's attention. Y/N closed her eyes and rubbed her face at his approach, already knowing this would not end well.

"So, Max," Lando started, his voice confident.

Max frowned, confused at the sudden seriousness. “What?”

“There’s something we want to tell you," he continued, glancing at Y/N.

Y/N told herself not to worry – Max had already given his blessing, right? It didn't stop her body from tensing up, though. Lando noticed straight away, slightly squeezing her thigh in attempt to reassure her, but it had the opposite effect. Why was he touching her like that when her brother was sitting right there, focused on them?

Max raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them as he narrowed his eyes. “Okay...?”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Lando and I, uh, we’re sort of...”

“Dating,” Lando finished for her, his voice confident and steady.

Max blinked, processing their words, before leaning back in his seat. His brows lifted in genuine surprise as he looked at Lando. “You convinced her?”

Lando chuckled before leaning back in his seat with a triumphant smile. “Took some work, but yeah, I did.”

Y/N shot Lando a glare, her face heating. “Took some work? You make it sound like I was impossible or something.”

“You kind of were,” Lando teased, his grin widening. “Stubborn as hell. But that’s part of your charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible, honestly,” she trailed off before turning to her brother. “But… You’re okay with it? Not that we need your approval or something, I’d just like you to be okay with it,” Y/N asked her brother nervously.

“Yeah, I told Lando earlier this week. I think he’s good for you, just thought it would’ve taken him longer to convince you of that.” Max shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of his drink.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the hidden jab but let it slide, instead focusing on the approval part, and the relief she felt because of it. She let out a breath. “Okay. That’s good.” 

Her hand found Lando’s under the table, their fingers intertwining as she turned toward him, her lips curling into a small smile. “That’s good,” she repeated. 

She felt herself relax at her brother’s blessing, as if it was all the confirmation she needed to believe she made the right choice. She glanced up at Lando as he joked around with her brother, watching his eyes crinkle as he grinned, and she realised it felt right – she and Lando felt right.

– – – – –

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[waynes-multiverse]

I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

Right... 😆

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠

And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol

How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

And he slapped you right on the ass.

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

But his hands were gentle for you.

This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂

He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂

And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[hannahssimblr]

On narrow, shaded streets we amble among the crowd, past at all the little souvenir shops hawking bags and t-shirts, postcards and beaded bracelets. I grin at a magnet of a little fat faced chef, riding a vespa with a pizza in his hand. Something about his expression reminds me of Jonas.

“My stepdad used to buy magnets like that all the time,” Astrid says when I show her. “He thought they were so funny, but my sisters and I hated them. Their faces are creepy. They leer at you. The day he broke up with our mother, we threw them immediately into the trash.”

I buy it anyway. 

Outside a craft shop, she plucks a ceramic jug from a shelf to scrutinise. It is hand-painted in with delicate foliage in blue paint. “I think I could make something like this at university, don’t you?”

“Well, maybe this trip will inspire a collection of work for your pottery class,” I say, and she lifts it up to the sun, glinting upon the glaze. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Would you like it?”

She smiles. “I would. It’s so unusual.”

I get it for her, then carry the little package, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, around as she flits from store to store, finding inspiration in the art she sees. Inspiration comes to me, too, in the colours, the shapes, the slash of sky in negative space between buildings. I photograph it all. The fruit stands little dogs sleeping in doorways, bougainvillea cascading down whitewashed buildings, and laugh with delight as a little yellow car squeezes a path through a crowd of pedestrians. I marvel at this little town, and all the pockets of the world that still cling to so much charm.

“This is exactly what I needed,” says Astrid, on the terrace of a cafe overlooking the sea. 

“Coffee?”

“Yes, and all of this. The sun, the air. I have been so tired of Berlin lately, and the sky being so grey.”

“You’ve been bored.”

“A little, yes.”

We order coffees. Ristretto for her, Americano for me. The server eyes me with some savage combination of amusement and contempt. I imagine his thoughts. “Of course you would order this, American boy,” the man in my head says, and I force myself to smile at the real one. “Thanks”. 

“Grazie.” Astrid hisses.

“Oh, alright. Grazie. Sorry.”

As he returns with our order, he says something to Astrid in Italian. She responds, then him, and in front of me they have an entire conversation I cannot understand. I sit, sip my coffee, and wait for them to finish. Whatever he is saying, he’s very enthusiastic about it, gesticulating, hands moving passionately. I try not to be bothered when he points at me, and Astrid laughs at whatever he has to say, even though the heat of embarrassment rises to my face. If he’s saying something about me, I can’t defend myself. How frustrating it is not to understand another language being spoken right in front of you. Eventually, he leaves, and she simply straightens her dress underneath her and takes a dainty sip of her coffee. 

“What were you two talking about?” I say, after several moments. 

“Oh, nothing really. He was just asking me where we are from.”

“Right.” I trace the rim on my cup with my fingertip. “Just I think I understood something he said to you.”

Her brows rise in dull surprise. “Oh?”

“Bella,” I say, “As in, beautiful.”

“Oh, yes, he was talking about the weather. ‘Una giornata bella’, he said. ‘A beautiful day’.”

“What did he say about me?”

“About you?”

“Yes. When he pointed at me.”

“He said you don’t look Danish, and I agreed, because you aren’t.”

“Oh.”

“You’re self conscious?”

“No, just, I didn’t know what he was saying. I didn’t know if he was flirting with you in front of my face.”

“Italian men are very passionate about a lot of things. Perhaps it looked like that, but he was being friendly.”

I exhale a laugh. “Giornata bella, huh?”

“If he said ‘bella’ regarding me, it wouldn’t be okay?”

I pause. “Well, I don’t know. Calling another guy’s girlfriend beautiful in front of him is kind of on the line between okay and not okay, don’t you think?”

A shrug. “What if it’s true? Shouldn’t we allow people to appreciate beauty? To see it, and say something? What if I like to hear it? Would you prefer to see me locked away from the world?”

“Of course not,” I scoff. “I’m not one of those weird boyfriends that only wants you for myself.”

“I’m glad you said that,” she gazes at a lone seabird, whirling, spiralling above the bay. “Because I could never handle that. That will never be how we are.”

I smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[woaza]

LOVE LOVE LOVE UR SCAR STUFF!!! I am so glad he's starting to get stuff written for him he's so awesome!!!! Please keep going feed us scar fiends

Scar (Arcane) x reader || Pt.2

Link to Pt.1

Contains : Continuation of my head cannons and thoughts on scar in a relationship and as a person.

Word count : 3.4k

Warnings : Scars baby mama being a little crazy(?), grief, mentions of death, some of this is kind of a stretch?

A/n : I HEAVILY AGREE with you! He needs more written about him. I can never find any it’s so strange. I’m so glad you liked my last scar fic. I will definitely continue to do them! I have a lot of requests for other characters, but I need some of him.

— Scar is a Vastaya or more specially a Chirean. Well at least some form of a Chirean? (At least from what little there is about him.) Chirean’s were first discovered by a Zaunite miner. They can’t speak human languages but are bat like. Which scar is. So I don’t know if he is a Chirean or at least some sort of subspecies or a descendent. Since he is classified as one and there is very little known about them.

— One thing we know about Chireans are that they are Omnivorous. So they don’t really have any diet restrictions, but most real bats are fruit bats. So Scar will eat meat and vegetables, but fruits are definitely a favorite of his. Just think about it. In the slums food is hard enough to keep on the table. Sweet things (not to mention difficult to grow) like fruits are a rare treat. Scar feels like they are a special treat, but something about fruit just makes him happy. (So bonus points if you have a fruity perfume or cologne?)

— With those bright green eyes of his can definitely see great in the dark. With that being said also more sensitive to lights. When the two of you wake up in the morning he groans in annoyance so loudly when you turn on your nightstand light. Which yes, nobody likes seeing the bright light first thing in the morning. But for him it’s ten times worse. He will burry his face against your body, looking for an escape from the light.

Though with his eyes comes many benefits. Like Late night walks with him are a must. When his daughter (Who in my head I’ve been calling Petra but I read a cute fic where she was called Riri. So I’m in debate of what her name is but I digress) is being watched by Ekko or someone else he trusts, he’ll take you out on late night walks. He loves to hold you close, helping guide you when you can’t see because it’s too dark.

— When you two first start to see each other more romantically. He literally pretends to be so nonchalant. Acting like he’s above slightly cheesy romantic activities. At the start is the type to watch you dance instead of joining him. Despite desperately wanting to. He just wants to make sure your really in it for the long run and not a quick fling. Scar takes his relationships very seriously, especially because of his daughter.

—Since we are in the topic of his daughter, Baby mama? I could see this going a couple different ways— and I don’t know which is worse.

The first way is that he never had a good relationship with her. Maybe it was a hookup or a messy situation in general. He grew up in the slums and probably wasn’t the greatest of a person himself. “True love” wasn’t really the top of his concerns. Until him and this woman had a daughter together. He (immediately) was ready to become more serious because a child was involved (probably because he felt uncared for in his childhood, not wanting to do that to a child?). Though she didn’t want that and hesitated. Eventually leaving him to raise her by himself.

The second way I could see, is him truly falling in love with someone. Finally having a family and starting to build a life. Having a daughter and a small place to call home, that is until the city’s were flooded with shimmer. Losing his wife/partner to it and will never forget her.

In either case I think the mother of his child is another reason he’s kind of concerned with romance and getting closer to you in general. Scared that everything that happened will just repeat itself.

A/n: maybe more of this? I like making these. BUT I love this photo of him sm. I think it’s cute he’s just genuinely smiling at his daughter.

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.2 (you are here)

A03

Gareth had been a part of a handful of grand finales in his day, but none of them had ever been like this.

Maybe it was the fact they’d almost died in real life.

Maybe it was the kids in the room, egging and cheering them on.

Likely it was a combination of a lot of things, up to and including the way Eddie had poured his entire soul into this game--as if in doing so, it might fix the world that had been accidentally ruined for them.

(Possibly it was the cheesy effects Eddie had somehow roped Steve into pulling off with him, which included a number of lighting changes and a smoke machine that was cool for all of five seconds before it overwhelmed the room.)

They’d stayed well past when they had the room for, shouting and cheering and screaming-- and for once no one came in to chew them out for it.

Coming out triumphant, they'd defeated the great evil Eddie had cooked up in order to save the realm.

All the twists and turns and reveals…even now Gareth still felt the victory pulsing through his bones.

They really had needed this.

“Not gonna lie, I am not ready to go home.” Gareth thinks it was Stewart who said it, but it might have been Jeff. Not that it mattered--plans were sprung sprung, and they agreed to meet up at the only place still open that wasn’t the McDonalds.

“All middle schoolers get to go home first!” Steve announced with his typical mother-hen flair, which caused a very large amount of boos to be sent his way from said children.

“It is almost 10pm, you dipshits, I don't need all your moms crawling down my throat.” he tacked on, glaring as Dustin and Grant both began loudly gagging.

“Stevie’s right!” Eddie boomed from where he was still gathering his papers, haphazardly throwing them into his backpack. “You all know your moms want him.”

“Munson--”

Hop to it, hobbits, I want a burger.” Eddie interrupted, grinning cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes at him.

“Who are you calling a hobbit!?” Mike bit out, offended.

“if hopping makes someone a hobbit, then I guess we should start calling Eddie Frodo.” Jeff added sweetly.

“I have been walking normally for days, Jeffrey--”

Several parting shots later, the children allowed themselves to be herded outside, wherein they all stood around and proceeded to try and wheedle a ride out of anyone willing to listen to them.

“I don’t have a car today.” Tiff lied, standing in front of her family’s ancient Crown Vic.

“Sorry guys, I hitched a ride with Grant.” Jeff piled on with a grin. “And I don’t think he’s got room for all of you.”

“Come on, you’re not really gonna make us bike home? In the dark?” Dustin tried valiantly, gesturing at the sky as if it was pitch black outside.

It was not, and thus, his point was moot.

Gareth once again tuned out the ensuing argument, taking the time to just enjoy the moment.

(Maybe make a secret, near-silent bet with Jeff about who was going to break down and give the kids a ride home, communicated entirely through eyebrows and eye rolls.)

“Why are we even asking you--where the hell is Steve!?” Dustin finally shrieked, hands flung in the air in a way that was too reminiscent of Eddie to not be intentional.

Apparently Harrington wasn’t the only person he impersonated.

“Pretty sure he picked ‘stay behind to help clean.’” Grant told him, as if Eddie had ever done such a thing in his life.

“Someone tell them to hurry up.” Max grumped, hands crossed over her chest, Lucas’s arm around her shoulders. “They’re taking forever.”

“Welcome to life kid. Eddie runs on no one's clock but his own.” That from Stewart, who was also doing a grand job of pretending his mom’s car wasn’t sitting in the parking lot.

“Eddie doesn’t even know what a clock is.” Tiff said flatly, before Max could murder him for the kid comment. “I gave him one once and he acted like I gifted him a bomb.”

Darkly she muttered, “I think he ran it over with the van.”

“I’ll go get them.” Gareth announced, interrupting the entire charade before Dustin and Mike both could lose their shit. “I left my jacket in there anyway.”

More than likely Eddie's leg had begun hurting, in which case Gareth would be right about the only person besides Steve who Eddie would allow help from without falling into a snit.

(He did not want to end the night with Eddie in a snit.)

He figured the sooner he went, the sooner the whining would stop. Besides, it was just a quick trip back in, grab what he needed, and come right back out. Easy enough.

Unfortunately, Gareth forgot a few key things about surviving a horrific incident.

Mainly that PTSD was a bitch and schools were really creepy when they were empty.

At the right time of night, with the shitty, fluorescent lighting and the dark corner?

It looked a lot like the lab had.

The floor was even echoey in the same way as he slowly walked down it, each step ringing out as if to sing out his very doom.

….Which is why he immediately dived into the first door to Hawkins High’s tiny ass auditorium, rather than walk all the way down the creepy ass hallway to use the door they’d all trooped out of.

It had way more lights, and a far less chance of hiding a murder monster.

(Would he always be like this now?

Worried about shit that shouldn’t be real?

The Men in Black had done a group job of insisting this whole thing was a one off but that didn’t exactly make anyone feel better given the kids had told them they said that every time this shit happened.

Which was apparently bi-yearly.)

Unfortunately for Gareth, it also meant he was popping into a door that was at the very far back of the drama room--hidden, partly, by the costume rack Hellfire had shoved over to make room for Eddie’s throne.

He wasn’t being quiet. Didn’t think he needed to be and given his thoughts didn’t want to be-- but it wasn’t until he was through the door and weaving his way through ancient, tacky clothes that he realized Steve and Eddie hadn’t heard him come in.

Given the very compromising position they were in, Gareth doubted it would have mattered if he came in blowing a trumpet.

They were making out.

Or--no.

They weren’t.

It looked an awful lot like they were, from the angle Gareth was at, but he quickly adjusted to the low lighting and realized their heads weren’t lined up right.

He was proven right a moment later, when Steve straightened up--hand going to an all too familiar guitar pick that now hung around his neck.

“I can’t take this.” Steve protested, quiet voice made loud in the emptiness of the room.

He sounded off as he said it, a little like he had been that night at Eddie’s, when he’d been so upset about his parents. The choked, strangled voice of someone trying to reign in their emotions and doing a piss poor job about it.

Something clearly had happened between them in the ten or so minutes they’d been dragging their feet back here.

“Yes you can.” Eddie replied.

“Ed’s--”

“I’m giving it to you. You think I’ve ever offered this to anyone else?”

That was said as a challenge--Gareth very much recognized it as one--but Eddie’s bravado sounded wrong too.

Like he was trying to be serious about one part of this, while hiding another entirely. A magician performing an unfinished trick, relying on the audience to look right where he wanted without much prompting.

“Exactly. You should be giving this too--I dunno, someone who is important to you.” Steve protested, voice thick. “Not to me. Not because I was joking around. Fuck Eddie, I didn’t mean it--”

“Yes you did, and that is exactly why I’m giving it to you.” Eddie interrupted, reaching out to flick the guitar pick that now sat on Steve’s chest. “You mean something to a lot of people, Steve, and now you have proof.”

They stared at each other for one far too heated moment. 

(They were both so emotionally constipated--and Gareth absolutely shouldn’t be overhearing this.

Why were they always having these damn conversations in places he was around!? 

If either of them realized he was in the room…)

“I don’t need proof--” Steve said, but his hand had come up, trapping the one Eddie still had hovering near his chest.

“Yes you do. And you deserve to know that people want to be around you. That I want to be around you.”

Slowly, carefully, Gareth began walking backwards, trying not to make a sound.

This was way too fragile for him to ruin.

Steve made a frustrated noise. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Really? You, the person who apologized to me, told me you didn't care if I was gay, and insisted that I wasn't a satan worshiping demon, can't figure out why you’re important to me?”

Eddie’s voice faded as Gareth successfully retreated back out the way he came, doing his level best to ensure the door closed as quietly as possible.

Relief made him slump his head against the wood, and he held it there for a moment in order to give his two, idiotic friends the time they clearly needed.

Maybe Eddie would have a boyfriend after this.

(Let’s be honest, they’d have a better chance resolving their feelings by talking to a brick wall, but that wasn’t Gareth’s problem to fix.

At least not yet, anyway.)

Either way, he looped back to conquer the terrifying halfway, cursing out Munson and Harrington both the entire way down.

Made his way to the front of the door as loudly as he possibly, conceivably could, smacking into it as though he’d fumbled opening it on the first try (and only partly because being so fucking loud meant the monsters couldn’t get him.

Right?)

“Are you two done yet?” He yelled, and made sure to wait for an affirmative before barging in.

Sure enough, they were still close together, Steve with a smile on his otherwise red face and Eddie equally looking guilty, but both swung to look at him when Gareth marched in.

“Are you guys partying here or cleaning? Hurry the fuck up we want food.” He challenged, gesturing at the pile of shit Eddie still hadn’t put away. “Also the children need a ride.” 

“Dammit--” Steve growled, springing to life and trotting out past Gareth, hand running through his hair--and his other hand carefully hiding the necklace under his shirt.

Now, Gareth decided, that could let on what he’d seen, since they’d been about as subtle as a fucking hippo.

“I have told you you’re screwed, right? We’ve had that conversation?” He teased, after waiting just long enough for Steve to be out of earshot.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Eddie sniffed.

Gareth grinned, slow and mocking. “Mmm. and I’m sure the necklace I just saw was totally a copy you bought for reasons. Couldn’t possibly have been your real pick…”

Eddie’s face immediately reddened. “Shut up, Gary.”

“Whatever kind of situation could have just happened to have led you to hand over that?”

With a faked gasp, Gareth suddenly clutched at his heart. “Munson, tell me you didn't just deflower the good maiden Harrington!?”

He got punched in the shoulder for his efforts.

“Shut up, Gary!”

Quiter, not wanting to take any chances at all of being overheard, he said; “Did you tell him it was your moms?”

“No.” Eddie said, just as quiet. A true feat, for him. “And I will be furious if you tell him.”

Gareth raised his hands in surrender.

“Secrets safe with me.”

They both knew he meant it.

xXx

With the first lazy days of summer came a quiet kind of healing: Eddie finally stopped limping, Steve had gotten better about hugs and high fives, and Gareth was (mostly) sleeping through the night.

It was peaceful--or had been, until the Munson phone started to ring.

(Or maybe It had been ringing for a while, Gareth thought. Time was a little fuzzy right now.)

“Ten to one that's Henderson.” Eddie said, as the phone stopped, only to immediately start back up again.

He hauled himself up, apparently deciding the ringing was not going to stop until it was answered.

Steve, sprawled out on Eddie’s couch, groaned.

“Why is he calling here?”

“Because you're always here.”

A fun little fact Gareth knew was true more than it wasn’t.

Steve spent an awful lot of time in Eddie’s trailer these days. Gareth’s garage and the drama room too, but given how Steve seemed more eager to hang out with Eddie than anyone else, those places didn’t count.

“How do you know he's calling for me, and not D&D advice?”

“Because he worships you, dude.” Eddie drawled, returning from the kitchen where the phone now sat politely on the kitchen counter, with tinny Dustin Henderson-esque noises squawking out of it. “Not me.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Steve muttered, but heaved himself up off the couch, careful to step over Gareth--who had claimed the floor the very second Eddie had magicked a joint out of his lunch box.

“What, Henderson?” Steve said into the receiver, as Eddie flopped dramatically onto the couch.

He nearly kicked Gareth in the process, who hissed at him for it.

“Yes, yes, you’re so vicious.” Eddie cooed, and if Gareth wasn’t high, that comment would have earned a solid tackle. Alas, the floor called to him, so he simply flipped his best friend off instead.

Steve’s voice floated back from the kitchen, fond and exasperated in equal measures.

“The plan you put in my hand yesterday? Yeah Dustin, I have it.”

Whatever Dustin said in response caused him to make an offended noise, followed by a higher, actually offended noise.

“Where’d the joint go?” Eddie questioned lazily, hands idly patting the couch.

“Did you put it in your pocket again?” Gareth asked, after checking that he himself did not have it.

Eddie thought that over.

“I don’t think I’m wearing pockets.” He decided after a moment.

“Okay--okay! If anything happens I will handle it, and fill you in later.” Steve said, followed by a loud; “No.”

And then;

“I said no!”

And then;

“That's stupid, Henderson. You're two hours away at camp, you wouldn't make it back in time to do anything.”

“Is it under the couch?” Eddie asked, half watching Steve slowly sink down onto his elbows on the kitchen counter, only to spring back up anytime Dustin talked.

Gareth gave him a look.

“Why would it be under the couch?”

Eddie shrugged. “Dunno man. Joints roam sometimes, you know?” He walked a few fingers in the air, as if joints had legs and used them.

“And they walk under the couch?” Gareth challenged back. “I am amazed this trailer’s never caught on fire.”

“I wouldn’t say never, Gare-Bear.”

“Can you just go enjoy camp?” Steve pleaded in the background, sounding like the world's most disgruntled parent. “For me, man, I have to work all summer, I’m literally doing my last interview tomorrow. How am I supposed to look forward to making fun of your dorky math adventures if you don't go on any?”

Finally;

“Yeah, you little shit, you too.”

“Not to worry, we have all summer to find it.” Eddie said, before he caught up to the conversation.

Head whipping towards Steve, he accused; “Did Steve just say he got a job?”

“I wasn’t listening.” Gareth said, too busy looking under the couch in case Eddie really had dropped a lit joint under there. How he didn’t know, but this was Eddie Munson, after all.

Stupider things had happened.

Steve grumbled, “I'm hanging up now!”--before slamming the phone back into the receiver with a sigh so heavy his entire chest shook with it.

“Who knew Steve Harrington was whipped?” Gareth teased rolling back onto his back and miming cracking a whip in the air. “And to a future freshman, no less!”

“I did!” Eddie raised a hand in the air.

“Oh screw you guys.” Steve scoffed, hauling himself back to the couch. “Someone hand me the joint, I need it.”

“So bad news about that…”

Gareth got to watch in delight as Eddie tried to explain the missing joint to Steve--who was a lot less casual about being potentially lit on fire.

“Where are you interviewing at, anyway?” Gareth asked, as Eddie dramatically army-crawled to his bedroom in search of a new joint, after being thoroughly chewed out about losing the last one.

“Starcourt. Place called Scoop’s Ahoy.”

Knowing damn well he was the highest person in the room right now, Gareth frowned as he tried to recall what store that was.

It took him a moment.

Then the realization hit and glee overtook him in a wave that not even weed could temper down.

“The ice cream shop?” He said, amusement overtaking his voice.

“Yeah!” Steve said, only to immediately frown when a cackle of laughter burst out of Gareth’s mouth.

“How is that funny?”

“If you don’t already know,” Gareth snickered, “I’m not telling you.”

He was saved from having to explain by Eddie inch worming back, this time with a lit joint in his mouth.

Sparks twirled from the end of it, landing threatening on the thin carpet every time he puffed.

“Dammit Eddie you’re gonna catch the trailer on fire!”

“Supposedly he already did.” Gareth tattled.

This did not earn him any favors, but did give him endless amounts of delight when Steve dived on Eddie as if wrestling would, in fact, save them all from catching the place on fire, and not help it along instead.

God, Scoop’s Ahoy.

Gareth’s summer just got a hell of a lot better.

Bonus

If he was a good person, Gareth would have given Steve a heads up about Hellfire visiting on his second week of work.

Unfortunately, Gareth was far more interested in seeing everyone else's reactions to care. Only Tiff so far had realized what “Steve’s working at that ice cream place at the mall” meant and Gareth was in dire need of watching Eddie’s reaction to The Shorts.

“Remind me to steal Grant's camera next time.” He whispered to Hellfire as a whole as they walked up to the counter, grin growing as Eddie finally clocked Steve.

Slutty little sailor outfit and all.

Eddie’s own grin froze first, and then his limbs, eyes growing so wide they practically overtook his face. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his mouth, and so it stayed slightly open, giving the wonderful impression that he’d been paused like a VHS tape.

Gareth wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Hey Harrington, you didn't clean the--whoa.”

Steve’s coworker—a girl from band whose name Gareth couldn’t recall—stared at the group, her expression shifting into something that could only be described as “overworked minimum wage employee completely fed up with life.”

“Can I help you?” She challenged, planting her hands on her hips with one eyebrow raised.

Like he’d been shocked back to life, Eddie sprung into action.

“Oh we're here to laugh at--ow, Jeff, your elbows are like blades!”

“We're here to see Steve.” Grant said over Eddie’s screeching, before turning his own cheeky smirk on their ex-jock. “Right buddy?”

A smile flit over Robin's face, something that's got too much of an edge to it to be friendly.

“Well don't let me stop you. Take your time, we offer unlimited free samples.” She waved her hand to all the open tubs in the case, the same gesture Eddie used when pretending to be a merchant unveiling fanciful wares.

Steve frowned, head whipping to her in outrage. “Not even an hour ago you were down my throat about giving out too many!”

Robin turned innocently towards him. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You literally said and I quote, ‘Harrington we don't offer unlimited free samples!’”

“You must have misheard me.”

“Well don't convince the lady otherwise, let's try some ice cream!” Eddie said, clapping his hands together.

To the average outsider it might look like he's taking Robin's side (and advantage of the situation)

What he was actually doing is what he always did--pulling the attention back on himself to get heat off everyone else in a way that allowed him to stare greedily at Hellfire’s newly acquired sailor boy.

Steve huffed, frustrated, but pulled his scooper out of his holster anyway. Twirled it as he does so and then did it again when Eddie ooed and awed at him for it.

“Can you do tricks?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno man, throw it in the air and catch it?”

“Do not throw ice cream.” Robin warned from the spot she’d retreated too, settling against the wall to watch the show.

Idly Gareth wondered how long it would take for her to catch on that they’re all friends.

(It still surprised him to learn there were people who didn’t know they were friends.

Gareth had assumed small town syndrome would mean the entire school had figured it out by now, but there’s always people who don’t eat their lunch in the cafeteria or pay much attention to gossip.

A stereotype that Buckley fit to a perfect T.)

“Yeah Munson, I'd probably just get it all over me!” Steve added, exaggerating his own frown.

A fact Robin considered, before stating:

“On second thought, tricks would bring in more customers…”

Eddie pointed a finger her way, winking. “I think I'm starting to like you, Buckley.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, stop.”

(He never actually started, of course, but Gareth doesn't think she's figured that out yet.)

Bonus x2

“There’s a guy drowning in the mall fountain.” Robin announced as she trooped past, backpack slung over her shoulder. Steve had opened the store by himself today, something he had privately told Gareth he was proud of.

(“Means she’s starting to trust me!” He’d declared, triumphant, and somehow missed Eddie making a gagging noise in his peripheral vision.)

“Sonovabitch!” Steve growled, flinging the dishrag down and vaulting over the counter.

“What--” Robin sputtered, flinging herself away before she got plowed over. “Dingus we have a door--!”

Gareth said nothing, instead taking a noisy slurp of his shake as he too, turned to watch as Steve paused at the fountain’s edge, assessing the splashing happening inside of it with narrowed eyes.

“Fucking show off.” Robin finished in a mutter, as Steve seemed to decide the best course of action was to lunge forward, grabbing onto the drowning guy’s waist with both arms and bodily hauling him out.

A familiar figured flailed around for a minute before going limp, causing him and Steve both to crash to the floor and--

Gareth almost choked on his shake.

“Oh shit that’s Stewart!” He gasped, slamming the shake on the counter before rushing over to help his friends.

“There’s a trash can, right there.” Robin called after him, and when it proved ineffective, threateningly yelled;

“I’m throwing this away!”

“Dude, you're a trouble magnet, you know that?” Steve was ranting, as Stewart sputtered and hacked up fountain water.

“I thought I saw something!” He whined in between coughs as Gareth trotted up.

“Well stop it.” Steve crawled back up to his feet, trying to fix his dumb little sailor suite while glaring menacingly at Stewart.

“Was the thing you saw coins perhaps?” Gareth teased, now assured that Stewart wasn’t in danger of dying from his own stupidity (again.) “Maybe a misplaced dollar bill?”

“Shut up.” He moaned, while Gareth smirked at Steve.

Who just ran his hands through his hair, like he wasn’t fond of their antics, the liar.

“Did you decide to find it with your mouth instead of a hand, like a sane person?”

“I said shut up Gareth--”

“Let me get you real water.” Steve interrupted, being hauling Stewart back to Scoop’s, like the mom figure he so totally was.

[warlocksoup]

SLEAZE ✶⋆.˚ MIYA OSAMU

CHAPTER ONE: locked out

SOUNDTRACK: i don't know you by mannequin pussy

cw: implied ed/unhealthy relationship to food

For breakfast, she cracks an egg onto a hot pan. She ignores it, and lets it crack and bubble, turning her attention to a cold clump of white rice she pulled from the fridge. She turns on the faucet of her kitchen sink and lets the water run into the bowl before she tosses it in the microwave. Two minutes. The eggs pop and crackle in the pan.

When the microwave beeps, she grabs the bowl with her bare hands and burns them. She mumbles curses under her breath and equips herself with a dishrag before she goes at it again. Haphazardly, she slips the egg out of the pan and onto the steaming bowl of rice. She sits down at her counter, remembers that she left the stovetop on, and stands to turn it off before she gets her first bite in.

The eggs are overcooked and tough, but she likes it that way, because if the texture is too runny, it makes her think of snot, and she gets too repulsed to eat anymore. The rice is gummy and sticky. She eats about half of the egg and a quarter of the rice before she gives up, and, when she documents this failure to empty her plate, she cites her inability properly prepare food that isn’t a hot. mushy, chewy mess as the reason. She dumps the rest of it in the trash.

✶⋆.˚

She’s technically unemployed. When her mother calls her to try and rectify this, she falls back on Kenma.

“-and if you want to start auditioning again, I can call my agent friend, and we can get you set up. It’s really no trouble at all. He’d really love to see you on screen again. We all would, sweetie. It’s been so long, and you’re just so talented. Doesn’t it seem like a waste to just rot away in that apartment of yours? With the connections that you have it seems an awful shame. There are a lot of people who would kill for what you have, honey.”

There’s an unlit cigarette in her mouth. Kenma reaches out and snatches it from her mouth before she can light it. He doesn’t even look back at her as he snaps it in half.

“No, Mom, it’s okay,” she says, phone pressed between her elbow and her cheek as she shuffles to grab her pack out from her sweatshirt pocket again. “I got a lot of stuff going on with Kenma and his Bouncing Balls thing,” she pulls out the carton and flicks the lid open, “I don’t think I have the time to even prepare for an audition, and even if I wanted to,” Kenma grabs at the entire carton and forces it out of her hand. She hits his arm.

Her mother sighs wistfully on the other line. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. It’d really make me happy to see you act again.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. From his spot on his couch beside her, Kenma removes one hand from his phone to place it on her knee. “I know, Mom.”

“Just let me know. I’ve got to go now. I have a dinner with one of the producers of Ripple Effect. I know you don’t want me to, but I’ll bring your name up just in case. They’re always looking for guest stars. You never know, you might change your mind.”

“Yeah, I might,” she agrees, knowing that she won’t. She looks at Kenma, like she’s begging to be saved, but he keeps his focus on his phone, indifferent to her suffering. “Have fun at your dinner. I’ll talk to you later.”

She doesn’t wait for her mother’s response before she hangs up, but before she can press that red button, she can hear her mother’s half-hearted ‘love you,’ come through the speaker. She pockets her phone.

“It’s Bouncing Ball,” Kenma says, still not looking up from his phone.

“What?” She leans back against the arm of the couch, and kicks her legs out, so her calves are resting on Kenma’s lap. He used to push her legs off of him whenever she did this, but now it seems that it’s not worth the effort to him.

“It’s ball, not balls,” he corrects, and it occurs to her that this is far from the first time he’s had to do so. She can’t ever remember the difference. Ball or balls. Makes no difference to her. “And what are you so busy doing here that you can’t audition for anything?”  

If it weren’t for Kenma, she’d have to get a real job. But she has Kenma, so she was able to dish out enough of her child actor savings to throw at him, and he took it and made it so she gets a healthy paycheck at the end of every week. She doesn’t know how it works. Kenma’s explained it to her before, but she’s never really listened. Matters of money bore her. Most things bore her.

She likes to pretend that Kenma just likes spending time with her enough to pay her for it. It’s more interesting than being an investor or partial owner or whatever the fuck she actually is.

She gives Kenma a bright grin. “Keeping you company, of course.”

“You should get a real job, instead,” he tells her, shutting off his phone and tossing it on the couch cushion. “It’s a better way of spending your time than bothering me all day.”

“Stop pretending you don’t like me,” she tells him. Kenma’s indifference used to eat away at her. In high school, she would obsess over earning his affection, and it drove her insane that he wouldn’t give it up. She used to think she was in love with him, but it turned out she had just tied in her self-worth to his approval.

Turns out she does that kinda thing pretty often.

And anyways, Kenma’s indifference was never really indifference. He just took a few years to get used to.

“It’d be good for you,” he says. “If not for money, then just so you have something to do. Maybe just something part-time.”

Her eyes roll, almost automatically.  All anyone ever does is complain about the job they’ve got. Even if they love it. Even if they’ve dedicated their life to it. She has plenty of unread texts in her phone from Kuroo to prove it. “I’m plenty happy without one.”

Kenma makes some noise in the back of his throat that comes across as half disapproving and half disinterested. And the conversation ends there.

✶⋆.˚

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The wind is whipping her hair in her face and blocking the view of the inside of her purse as her hands frantically push aside her belongings. Her lip-gloss and pepper spray and loose coins knock together as she tries to find her keys.

But no matter how much she moves around her purse’s insides, she can’t find them. And in fact, she can picture perfectly where they are: sitting on the edge of the counter in Kenma’s kitchen, next to her stolen pack of cigarettes and a half-empty can of an energy drink.

The wind is getting colder and she’s starting to shiver under her thin jacket. Just behind the locked door, there’s a faux minx coat hanging up above her shoe rack, and she’s fantasizing about its warmth.

“Fuck,” she grumbles again, eventually moving past denial and giving up her search for her keys in favor of her phone. Kenma’s the only person she ever calls, so she’s quick to find his contact. She calls his number, and steps away from her front door, one arm pressing her phone to her ear, and the other wrapping around her center, pulling the jacket tighter to her.

The phone rings, and rings, and Kenma does not answer. She hangs up and tries to dial again but gets the same result. “Fuck, Kenma, I left your keys at my place and now I’m locked out. Call me back please.”

She hangs up, and scrolls through her notifications, hoping that there’s some text from Kenma saying he found her keys and is already on his way to bring them to her.

kodzuken has gone live!

She’s fucked.

Feeling defeated, she flops back against the door, and pouts. The solution to most of her problems. Kenma wouldn’t notice if she kicked down his door. She’s sure she could break in, if she tried hard enough. Though one of his neighbors might call the police if she tries to break a window in. And even if they didn’t, Kenma might not forgive her for that one. He’d probably give her a pay cut, if he could. Actually, she’s not sure he could, she’s not really sure how it works.

“Hey!”

She lifts her head. The Miya of Onigiri Miya is standing at the edge of the sidewalk, hands deep in his pockets. A car passes between them, and then it’s just the two of them. She swallows.  

She takes a step forward without really thinking about it. He looks cold, arms exposed by the short sleeves of his t-shirt, covered in nothing else but his store apron. He grabs at the brim of his cap, and then pulls it down firm. “Are you okay?”

✶⋆.˚

In front of her is her usual lunch, salmon onigiri, plated neatly on the counter of Onigiri Miya. She sits there, the restaurant’s only occupant, and keeps her arms by her side, staring down at the meal before her.

“Is everything okay?”

Her eyes flick up. Behind the counter, where he usually is, is the owner. The titular Miya. With the arms.

She looks back down at her plate. The idea of eating her lunchtime food at night makes her uneasy. There’s a cold plate of curry rice in her fridge she was supposed to be heating up instead. She doesn’t want to eat in front of Miya. She does usually, during lunch, but it’s different. He’s too busy then, hands full with tasks and customers, to notice her eating. Now, it’s like there’s a spotlight on her.

“I just made your usual lunch order,” Miya says, like he went too long without an answer and got nervous. He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you want, I just figured. If it’s not what you wanted, I can make you something else.”

“No,” she shakes her head, now feeling like she’s got no choice. “This is great, thanks.”

She smiles at him, and he smiles back. And he doesn’t look away as she tepidly lifts the onigiri to take a small bite out of the corner, feeling nauseous and watched as she does so.

This seems to satisfy him. “Good?” he questions.

She nods as she chews, smiling as she swallows. “Yeah, great as always,” she tells him, lying. It tastes like everything else does to her. “You make my favorite food, y’know.”

That’s at least true. It is her favorite food. She likes that he makes it, carefully, with his own hands.

He blushes at this. “Thanks. I, uh, I appreciate that.”

She’s spent a lot of time imaging him, thinking of scenarios like this one. The two of them alone, passing tension-filled words and blushing flirtations. He has been carefully constructed, pieced together in her mind.

Though, he’s not as forward as she imagined him to be, not as talkative. In her head, he is bold and gives her straightforward compliments and he fusses over her and he is smooth with his words. In her head, he feeds her with his own hands and wipes the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

But in real life, he’s reserved. Polite but not saying more than he needs to. He hasn’t professed attraction or begged her for a date or pressed her against the wall. He hasn’t done anything but give her a plate of food and a warm place to wait for Kenma.

Which isn’t as disappointing as she thought it would be. It just sort of makes her want it more.

Her phone buzzes on the countertop. She flips it over to see nothing from Kenma, but a generic ‘here’s what you missed’ Twitter notification. She hesitantly takes another bite from her meal, and it hits the pit of her stomach like a wet pile of mud.

In her seat, she feels awkward. She tries to think of something intriguing to say. Something that would make him want to see more of her. But all she can think of his how hot the lights of the store feel when he’s there, watching as she eats.

“Thanks for letting me wait here,” she says eventually. “I am sorry to keep you here past closing, though.”

Miya shrugs. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It got me out of making dinner for my brother, so it actually works out pretty great for me.”

Her phone vibrates again. Her mother this time.

Dinner went well! I got a good word in with that producer, so you might be getting a call soon!

She can’t help but make a face. She wipes it off as soon as she feels it grow.

 “Bad news from your friend?” Miya asks, reading the sourness of her expression.

“Uh, no. Just my mom,” she explains, and shifts around in her seat. “She’s trying to get me on a television show.”

Miya leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter in front of her. It makes her oddly nervous. “And it’s not going well?”

She snickers. “Actually, it’s going a little too well. I’m not really into acting. I retired when I was eight.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he tells her. “Me and my brother used to watch Family Sized with our mom every week. He had a crush on you, and he cried when you left the show.”

It’s weird for her to think that people just know. Especially him. That he can just look back at some of the worst years of her life as just as a collection of fond moments from his childhood. An hour to bond once a week with his brother and mother. To sit in front of the television and watch her suffer through her childhood.

Him, and everyone else in the goddamn country.

“Yeah, my mom too,” she says wryly. “She’s been trying to get me back in it ever since then. Unfortunately for her, I like my current job too much.”

“Yeah? What’s your current job?”

She smiles. “I’m unemployed.”

Miya laughs, dropping his head down as he chuckles, and she feels oddly proud for making him laugh. Even if it’s at her own expense. He straightens up and stands upright. “Well, if you ever do want a job, you can always try it out here.”

It’s not an invitation for late night drinks, but she takes it as an indicator that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. She’s counting it as a win. “Yeah, if you ever want to give your customers food poisoning, I’d be a great hire.”

Another notification from her phone. This one’s from Kenma.

I sent an Uber back to your place. Just stay at my place tonight. I don’t feel great about you going back and forth this late at night.

She looks down at her barely eaten onigiri and then back up at Miya again. “Got an Uber coming my way,” she tells him. “I’ll go outside and wait for it. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” he questions. “Do you want me to wrap up the rest of that for you so you can take it home?”

She says yes, because she thinks it would offend him if she said no. So he places the rest of it an a paper box for her and she says thank you as she takes it from him, knowing she has no intention of finishing it off.

A car pulls up to the outside of her apartment as she’s walking out the door. She turns back to Miya, and she says, “Tell your brother I’m sorry, by the way, for leaving the show and making him cry like that.”

He waves her off. “Don’t worry about him,” he tells her. “I’m hoping he’s over it, by now.”

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[urdeadpoet]

pretty much agree with all of this!!

ive pretty much already spoken abt timebomb and how i feel about it. but that whole episode felt like a fanfiction written to please certain people. and yes, there were a few moments that were important to the plot, it overall was so off and i feel like their ‘relationship’ is so forced. i’ve seen so many people saying how now jinx and ekko are canon? yeah, in the alt universe yes, but definitely not the main one. i could count the amount of interactions those two on one hand.

i’m pretty neutral abt jayce and viktor, i can see how people see them together but i wouldn’t be heartbroken if they weren’t confirmed

but i genuinely have seen overall pretty good things about this season on the internet and the moment someone does try to criticize something that happened random people in comments get soooo fucking upset. something this fandom has an issue with is just because they don’t like certain aspects of this season doesn’t mean that they hate or (kinda like a lot of the characters in the show ex: silco).

(i’m saying this as someone who deals with bpd, depression and anxiety) don’t even get me started with the jail scene bc genuinely wtf??? jinx was at an all time low, and instead of running and trying to stop her little sister from offing herself, she goes down on her lesbian situationship?? who was also the one who locked her sister in there in the first place? not very family oriented even though people love to say vi is (which is someone true in retrospect) but vi’s overall writing this season felt so off.

anyways i’ll stfu

I gave myself some time to think after watching act III, and I can finally share my thoughts. Let me break it down episode by episode so it’s more coherent because I’m itching to talk about it. Buckle up because this won’t be short.

cw: mentions of sh, depression, borderline personality disorder, suicidal tendencies

episode 7 — Pretend Like It’s the First Time

This whole episode felt like pure fanfiction and fan service, and I genuinely can’t believe how Timebomb shippers are still standing after this. Throughout this whole episode, it’s been clearly shown how Ekko will only accept one version of Jinx—the easy to digest one. The one that hasn’t been traumatized. How can someone call it love? Love isn’t picking and choosing what you accept, you either love the whole person or you don’t. Alternate universe Powder is the epitome of the manic pixie dream girl archetype for the current timeline Ekko. Would Timebomb work in that alternate universe? Sure, but that’s because it’s their reality. They don’t know anything else—Powder doesn’t become the Jinx we know now. Alternate universe Ekko isn’t faced with Jinx’s mental health problems—he has nothing to pick and choose from.

Do I hate Ekko? No, I actually like his character, but he’s torn between reality and fantasy. Can I blame him? Also no, because we’ve seen his childhood. We can only imagine what damage losing everyone he loved and cared about at such a young age (and so suddenly) did to him mentally. I can’t fault him for holding onto the past (even if he denies doing so), but it is an issue that stands in the way of current timeline Timebomb.

To him, there’s only Powder or Jinx, but she’s so much more complex than that. It’s been shown repeatedly how Jinx is a part of Powder (the whole act I of season 1), and how Powder is still a part of Jinx (until the very end, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of her).

BONUS: The necklace Powder has speaks for itself. A blue rose represents, and I quote, “Unrequited love, a longing for the impossible. A yearning for someone out of reach or a relationship that cannot be fully realized.” Both Ekko’s and Powder’s side profiles aren’t on the same side of the necklace to begin with. They only merge once she spins it.

BONUS 2: Other than “Ma meilleure ennemie” by Stromae & Pomme being an absolute bop, some of you simply didn’t translate it, and it shows. Here are some highlights, specifically Pomme’s lyrics (clearly depicting Jinx):

episode 8 — Killing Is a Cycle

The episode that started to break me. We see Jinx, absolutely drained, sitting in that cell because Isha’s death was her breaking point. No one and I mean no one, showed that girl the love and acceptance she needed and deserved other than Isha. Not Silco, not Vi, not Ekko. Building that beautiful storyline for two acts straight just to rip it away from her in such a traumatizing way—a parallel to the explosion at the warehouse, too? Wow. They were setting the stage for Jinx’s breakdown since the very beginning of this season. Making us watch the hope in her bloom, find something (or someone in this case) worth living for again, be loved and accepted for who she is just to watch it all burn and leave her with nothing again—pure evil.

“I didn’t know your mom was there.” Can you hear my heart breaking even further? That brings me to my next point: Jinx in relation to Caitvi.

After watching all of what Caitlyn did this season, not only to the city but to Vi, and then still believing Caitvi is healthy? Are we watching the same show? Season 1 Caitvi stood a chance, but this? So shallow and underdeveloped. Cait became a whole dictator. She was Vi’s breaking point, too, and the reason why she hit rock bottom in the first place. Jinx saw that firsthand, and she still thinks she’s the one standing in the way of Vi’s happiness? The only person standing in the way of that is Caitlyn herself, who isn’t even being held accountable for her actions whatsoever at any point. “We can’t erase our mistakes.” but we clearly can pretend they never happened, right?

“She’s being held in the bunker while I decide what to do.” What exactly did Cait expect from that? Telling Vi, her apparent love interest—who knows what it’s like to suffer in prison, not even physically but straight up mentally—that she’s keeping her mentally ill little sister in a cell while she decides what to do? What’s there to decide? And who are you to decide?

“I’m giving you this one chance to account for your actions, all the pain you’ve caused.” Is this projecting I hear from Cait? Can’t even tell since she never did what she’s expecting from Jinx, having done far worse things than her by that point. She let martial law take place for fuck’s sake. She used the grey to gas the Undercity (which still boggles me that Vi agreed to it). She was ready to risk Isha’s safety (a CHILD) just to get to Jinx.

BONUS (while I’m at it): Caitlyn would’ve missed the final shot, no matter how much she believed that she wouldn’t. She missed the shot twice right before that: first, when she shot Jinx’s finger off, and second, when she accidentally shot at Vi. They gave us this shot of Cait looking crazed out for a reason. She was losing her mind.

She was blinded by grief, yes, but I was waiting for the moment where she finally admits to her wrongdoings (other than screaming “I know!” while tossing a boat figurine, that is). “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” Sure, and a lousy sex scene can?

Let’s talk about it.

When Jinx leaves Vi in the cell, she’s clearly suicidal and mentally unwell—even more than what we’ve seen from her so far. The dialogue they gave her, again, making her believe that she was the issue all along was just heartbreaking to hear. Yes, it’s Jinx’s perception of herself, going back to her believing she’s a jinx and how everyone close to her dies, but that perception of herself shifted when Isha came into the picture. And like I said, they took that away, so going back to the topic at hand.

Vi just being ready to hear another ‘I told you so’ from Caitlyn when she finds her, and then they just end up having “sex” (or actually, just giving Cait the pleasure Vi deserved instead after everything she put her through). We’ve seen crumbs of unsatisfying communication between them about what happened, and that sex scene in the cell was the last straw for me at this point. What do you mean Vi saw her suicidal sister sitting in that very same cell (starving and self-harming herself, may I add) and instead of running after her, she pounces on Cait?

“But the parallel to their first meeting back in s1!” I don’t care. That’s just fucked up to witness. In what world would Vi—who swears to care about her family—do that? We see her as this family-oriented person, who doesn’t give up on Jinx despite it all, and this was just so out of character in the name of fan service.

episode 9 — The Dirt Under Your Nails

Starting off strong, we see depressed and suicidal Jinx right off the bat. How did Ekko manage to get through to her? Well, it’s not like he would’ve stopped either way. He would’ve kept using his z-drive over and over again until he finally got it right.

What do we gain from that? Hopeful Jinx again, yippee! Wrong. She’s back for her sister, and it’s beautiful to witness. “I’m always with you. Even when we’re worlds apart.” Fighting with and for her, ready to die for her—we saw time and time again how Jinx was never the true jinx she believed she was. She managed to fix things with Vi—and even Ekko at this point—and managed to find and bring joy. That was the true ending both sisters deserved.

What do we get instead? Implying that Jinx sacrifices herself for Vi. Other than the pure rollercoaster of emotions they put Jinx through, making a suicidal character kill themselves (or even implying so) is just plain insensitive. What message does that send? As I said in a comment section, the writers aren’t blind, and they’re not dumb either. They know how many mentally ill fans Jinx herself has. As someone who struggles with bpd too, I related to her character in so many ways. More than I’m willing to share in this post, so that finale just left a bitter taste in my mouth. Speaking with other people who are struggling with their mental health helped me see that I wasn’t the only one affected by it. Quoting my friend: “We need to normalize considering the effects of the narrative on the fans.” And this isn’t to say that every suicidal character should magically get better, this isn’t how the real world works. But Jinx’s storyline had no reason to end on that note by that point. Forced and rushed.

Dead or runaway, leaving her with the “everybody’s better off without me” narrative was just the wrong way to go about it. Plain and simple. It was rubbing salt into the wound, spitting in the face of her development. They decided to end the show with an underdeveloped Caitvi “endgame” when they spent all this time developing Jinx’s arc. And all of this for what? Such a disappointing way to wrap things up, with literal crumbs as hints that maybe she’s still alive.

And the bitter cherry on top of Caitvi’s messy relationship this season, other than the complete lack of communication—Vi comparing herself to the dirt under Cait’s nails. What a cute (not really) way to remind us of their differences and Piltover’s stance on Zaun for the majority of the show—seen as nothing more than dirt. When Sevika joins the Council after the war, she’s still being looked down on. This just makes me sick.

BONUS: No mentions of Isha in Act III was pure evil (no, the paint on Jinx’s new outfit, the bunny ears on the balloon or even Isha’s doll were not enough. I wanted her death to be properly acknowledged. No, I don’t think it was too much to ask for). We got this beautiful found family arc between her, Jinx, and Sevika, only for it to be completely forgotten the moment Jinx reconciles with Vi.

BONUS 2: Jayce and Viktor were the perfect example of bromance. A friendship between two men can be gentle, affectionate, and loving without them being gay. No need for the ship, but I guess that’s the least of my worries.

BONUS 3: If anyone brings up the “beauty in imperfections” monologue to defend the ending, know that I’m not listening. They had such a beautiful show going for so long. Imperfections aren’t the problem here, it’s the plain disappointment.

EDIT BONUS 4: Singed out of all people getting a happy ending was so disrespectful. What a cockroach that man is. Nothing and no one can get rid of him.

Media literacy is important. Thanks for coming to my rant.

disclaimer: this isn’t me saying that the entire season was bad. But damn, do better.

[sobx9]

The fact that the pates said 4x10 is the best episode they’ve ever done and they’re really proud of it & it’s the lowest rated ep & the fans can cite a handful of better eps through the whole series just proves they never understand us enough - or their characters/plot lines

Hi, I completely agree.

I think there is a huge disconnect between what show the Pates wanted to create and how fans took to it. In my opinion, they wanted a dramatic action packed show about treasure hunting. But the viewers fell in love with the characters, with their friendships and relationships and their emotional journey. And they didn’t know how to handle that since that wasn’t their intention.

You can see this clearly with how many plot lines are swept under the rug and how the characters seem unaffected about what’s happened to them. We don’t see Kiara and JJ being affected by nearly drowning, we don’t see how Kiara feels about her parents sending her away or how Sarah actually feels about being pregnant at 19. We don’t even really see Sarah and John B being affected with loosing their fathers. It’s just go go go to the next thing. We don’t see any depth or development. Even Topper is still the same “villain” of the show in season 4, or Ruthie suddenly appears, but she’s there just to be a bitch to the Pogues and we don’t even really know why. Because showing us all of this would take time away from the action.

They don’t understand those characters they created. It’s why I think so much screen time is given to grown up men (Ward, Big John, Groff, or even Rafe) because they can actually relate to them the most. But fans don’t care about them. They care about the Pogues. The female characters specially are completely butchered over the years, because there’s no woman creating this show, no one to give them input on what it’s like being a teenage girl.

I get they were super proud of the finale episode, because it included all the action: fighting, bike ride, shootouts etc. It was probably super fun to make, they were on a beautiful location for most of it and had a big budget to play around with. But it was completely lacking the things fans love about the show. Obviously the death of JJ didn’t help the rankings. But for me the finale was bad overall and I skipped around a lot. For example the scene where JJ is actually getting the crown from the statue was unnecessary long, especially when you compare it to how short his actual death scene was. Or even if you compare his death scene with the scene of Big John dying. For JJ you had him dying, one shot of each Pogue and done, again you don’t see the emotional toll, just straightaway to the next thing, planning revenge.

It’s such a shame because the show had such a huge potential to be so great, but the Pates just didn’t manage to do it.

[sapphiresaphics]

———

^^^ so… my problem with this is that we DO see all of these things. You can WANT more… but I would argue what would more really do for the overall story?

Let’s take the Vi as a pit fighter thing. Realistically what would we see? Vi getting into fights and drinking herself stupid. How many scenes do you need to be extended to get the same message we got out of the music video montage? How would extending that stuff longer and longer actually improve the story and not just slow it to a crawl?

We don’t NEED to see her going on benders or fighting multiple fights that will all end roughly the same way. It’s essentially repetitive storytelling. I really don’t think it’s necessary to extend that sequence out into a full episode. By like the 3rd or 4th fight, that would just be getting boring.

Ekko and Jinx? Yeah I wish we could’ve seen them bonding more.. but we didn’t NEED to see them rebuilding the balloon. All that does it take away from surprise of her chaotic entrance onto the battlefield.

Maddie? We have hints. Her suspicious knowledge of who Vi is when Vi has her hand over her cheek. Her lingering at the door listening in on Vi and Caitlyn. Ambessa’s cheeky “professional entanglement” line. There are clues and they’re not just in micro expressions. I agree more clarification would be nice, but it’s not NEEDED.

The one about Caitlyn distrusting Ambessa is the strangest one of all because Caitlyn says TO HER FACE that she does not trust her. She repeatedly challenges Ambessa’s orders, she refuses to take action on the people unless there’s probable cause, she chastises Ambessa’s guard for causing issues. She’s sneaking around (just like Vi is) to spy on what Ambessa is doing with Singe. When Vi confronts her she admits she knew all along what she was doing was wrong. She lets Jinx escape and chooses to side with Vi instead of going after her. She even sacrifices an eye to take out Ambessa!!

Like… these aren’t micro expressions or something hidden you have to read between the lines on… this is just the PLOT OF THE SHOW. How did you MISS any of that?

There’s lots of things you can criticize this series on, but I find it hilarious that you focus so much on the “micro expressions” and being righteously indignant that Arcane doesn’t “spoon feed you” the plot. You should absolutely be paying attention to the micro expressions because the animation is gorgeous and amazing to look at, but even if you don’t there’s so much here that explains all of the issues you have if you just paid attention even by a little bit.

You can WANT more, that’s fine. It’s a good show and I want more too. But technically you don’t NEED more. Arcane is the epitome of trimming the fat.

When people whine about stuff like this, it just reinforces to me that they prefer to remain ignorant and don’t want to have their beliefs challenged in any way.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - one hundred and six | confessions

You and Yunho made your way to the new room your dad was in, not seeing Intak or your mom anywhere. You weren’t sure if he was going to run interference at the hospital or stall her from being there when you were, but you were glad to not see her there, if only because you couldn’t live with another nurse asking the two of you to ‘take it outside’ as if you were a person who routinely made a scene in public places.

“I’ll stay out here.” Yunho said as he stood next to the door.

“You don’t have to.”

He smiled at you. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

So he was as nervous at your mom showing up as you were.

“Okay.” 

With him standing sentinel outside, you went in.

“Dad?” 

Hearing you, he opened his eyes and turned towards you. “Hey, kiddo.”

Intak kept calling you that too. You wondered when they decided it was your new moniker. Neither of them ever called you that when you were a kid, and you knew that any terms of endearment your mom used - like “honey” or “sweetie” - were empty. Things she said because she should say them, not because she actually felt them. 

You wondered if they meant it.

You pulled the chair from the wall over and sat next to the bed. “I’m glad you pulled through dad.”

“Me too.” He chuckled lightly.

He opened his hand for you to place yours in it, and you did. He squeezed it, maybe to show you that he was still strong. 

“I’m guessing you have to leave right away?”

You nodded. “I have to go back to Seoul, dad.” 

He sighed. “I understand, I wouldn’t want to be here either.” 

“I--” 

“Don’t try to argue with me. Intak told me you and mom fought in the waiting room yesterday.”

You nodded tentatively. “You’re… not going to tell me that I should listen to her?”

He shook his head and sighed. “As I get older I realize that your mom has been wrong about a lot of things… I should have… I should have stopped her from treating you the way that she did.”

“But… you agreed with her, dad.”

“I know.” His eyes watered. “You and Intak are both my babies and I should have realized that. I should have stopped your mom from being so hard on the both of you, but…” He shook his head.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… you should have.”

He nodded, eyes pressed together in a vain attempt to try and not cry.

“What made you realize that now?”

He looked at you. “Almost dying.”

You laughed - surprised by the bluntness of his response - and covered your mouth and stifled it quickly.

“Almost dying has a way of putting things into perspective.”

You nodded.

“As I was blacking out, I thought, ‘God, I’m never going to see my baby girl again and it’s all my fault… I can’t believe I raised her the way I did.’” 

“You were thinking about me?”

“Of course. I think about you all the time. Ever since you left I always wondered if you were okay. If you were struggling. If you needed anything.”

You watched him carefully. This was more feeling than you’d seen in your whole time knowing him - living in the same house as him, having him help you put your coat and shoes on to go outside as a child, begrudgingly being driven to violin practice by him - you didn’t know he could be like this. He seemed sincere.

“I vowed… that if I made it through, I’d apologize to you.”

You nodded again. He put his other hand, hospital wristband and IV and everything, on yours and gripped it tight. The bruising around the spot where his IV was inserted - dark purple splotches of color - made him seem so much older than you remembered him. He always seemed steadfast, the strong silent type when you were younger, and yet he seemed so much more frail now. Maybe it was seeing him in a hospital, a place you’d never thought you’d see him, that made you feel that way. But then again, you hadn’t seen your family in more than half a decade.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated the way we treated you, kiddo. I’m so sorry.”

Tears breaches the edges of your lower lids and you wiped them away.

“And I’m sorry it took me almost dying to know that.”

You nodded. “So what, are you going to change mom’s mind now, too?”

He was quiet for a few moments as he seemed to genuinely consider the question; he had almost gone into the light, but she had never left terra firma.

“...I don’t know if I can.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to try. She treated me how she treated me. She made her choice. If I never speak to her again, it’s on her.”

He nodded. “It is.”

“I stopped thinking I could ever make her happy a long time ago.”

He nodded. 

You sat in silence for a few minutes as you held hands.

“Are you talking to Intak? He told me he apologized to you as well.”

“I think I might keep talking to him, yeah.”

He nodded. “Then is it okay if I ask him to update me on how you’re doing? I know your mom would hate it if I called you. I don’t know if I’d be able to hide it from her.”

You thought for a second and nodded. “He can update you, yeah.”

“He told me you’re working for a big entertainment company. Wonderland?”

“Yeah. I started working there a few months ago.”

“They treat you well there?”

“Yeah, everyone’s really nice. I auditioned as a studio bassist but they’re teaching me music production and I’m going to be a producer soon.”

“What? Kiddo, that’s amazing.”

You nodded. “And… they take me seriously.”

He nodded. “Only you know what’s best for you, not your mom, not me, not your brother. Just you.”

“Yeah…” You laughed softly. “I already know that, dad.”

He smiled.  “You go live a life that you enjoy, kiddo.”

You nodded. “I intend to, dad.”

You wanted to say goodbye to your brother before you left for Seoul, and you and Yunho sat in his car, parked up the street, watching Intak’s house, waiting for your mom to leave so you could say goodbye to him.

“Take forever.” You chided her from your spot, crouched down in case she looked in your direction.

Yunho was in a similar position, though using the steering wheel to obscure his body. “Seriously.”

Your mom came out of Intak’s house - appearing to be yelling at him (or at least talking very forcefully, it was hard to tell sometimes with her) - and got into her car, slammed the car door, and drove down the street. Even though she drove in the opposite direction from where you were parked, that didn’t stop the two of you - grown adults - from sinking into your seats a little bit more, as if she might sense you with the preternatural skills of a predator and attack.

You waited a few minutes before exiting the car and going to Intak’s door and ringing the bell.

“Hey!” He said happily when he opened the door. “Come in.”

“We can’t, we have to head back.” You said.

“Aww. I was hoping we could catch up more.”

“You have my number, you can always text me.”

“And how do I know you won’t blow me off again?”

You laughed.

He looked to Yunho. “Make sure she actually answers my messages once in a while, huh?”

Yunho chuckled awkwardly. “She’s her own woman, I can’t make any promises.”

Intak rolled his eyes.

“What just happened with mom?”  You asked.

“You saw that? Where were you?”

“Parked up the street. I wasn’t going to fucking run into her.”

He nodded wearily. “I won’t go into the whole thing, but… it was about you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course it was.”

He nodded.

The two of you stood silent for a few moments.

“Next time she decides to get on your case about me,” you said. “Just tell her that one of us is spending a lot of time thinking about the other, and that person isn’t me.”

He whistled. “I would, just to see the look on her face but she might hit me after she realizes what I said.”

Your eyes widened. “Don’t tell her then. I don’t want to be the reason she hits you.”

“I mean… it could be worth it.” He laughed.

You laughed awkwardly. “Okay, we have to go.”

He nodded.

“I’ll try to answer your messages. If I’m not busy at work.”

He nodded again. “See you ‘round.”

You thought for a moment; unless there was another medical emergency in the family you weren’t coming back. 

“More like ‘talk to you later.’”

Yunho drove the two of you back to Seoul. You had turned off the radio, wanting to enjoy some silence after the past couple days.

Exhausted from dealing with the shock of a parent almost dying, the shock of having that parent tell you he regretted how he treated you, and having to deal with the other one’s unavoidable outburst upon seeing or even thinking about you, you sat in the passenger seat and stared out the window. You had heard of a Japanese style of recuperation in which the affected person was prescribed walks in nature, and you thought of it now as the vegetation zoomed past, wondering if the frequency of plants going by equaled a greater level of rest. 

Probably not.

The welcomed sound of the tires against the road and the wind moving over the car was broken when Yunho spoke.

“There’s something I wanted to say to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry I mentioned your bass in front of your mom.”

“It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“Um…”

You turned and looked at him.

Quietly, he said: “It wasn’t.”

“I’m-- excuse me?”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Yunho sat at the kitchen table in his best friend’s house, confused and more than a little scared. Her mom was going into minute twenty of weird, abrasive questions about his future: where he saw himself in five years or ten years, how he was going to provide for himself, what he was going to do with his life, what was his plan, where was he going to live, etc. He had the sudden, sinking feeling of being stuck in tar and unable to free himself from it; blackened sludge warmed by the sun, grasping at his legs like a million hands trying to pull him down, any effort to pull his feet out only creating a vacuum that pulled him in deeper. 

Where was he going to be in ten years? He hadn’t even thought about five-- he hadn’t even thought about one. How was he going to provide for himself? He had no idea since he hadn’t gotten any callbacks yet. What was he going to do if he couldn’t? How was he going to pay rent? T/n had a plan, she always had a plan, but he didn’t really have one; was he relying too much on hope and not enough on reality? 

He was scared. So very scared.

He couldn’t understand how she could deal with her mom on a daily basis. Sure, he had some idea, because he was the one who held her while she cried on days her mom had been particularly mean, or where everything had built up so much that she had reached a breaking point among so many other breaking points. And when the tears were over and she had finally purged the anguish from her mind, she’d still be in his arms, silent for a while, a blank look on her face that he could never figure out what it was. Was it quiet acceptance, at least for a while? Was it the look of someone who had to bury their true feelings to bide their time? Or was it the look of someone who’s brain had been so burned out by the constant emotional warfare that they were becoming dead inside?

His own mother was the polar opposite of hers - warm, loving, kind - on more than one occasion, he wished that his best friend could live with them. He could help his dad build an addition, help his mom furnish it, even get a part time job to help pay for it. He just wanted her to be happy.

He wondered if his parents were wondering why he wasn’t back yet.

After answering another question about his future with “I don’t know,” Yunho began to wonder: What if t/n leaves? What if I can’t get an acting gig fast enough? How are we going to survive? Who’s going to take care of her? What if she leaves and I don’t… and I never see her again?

What if I never see her again?

What if I never see her again?

“Mom, it’s getting late and Yunho probably has to wash the dishes.”

She was so nonchalant the way she said it, and she would be, she’s dealt with it for so many years. How did she do it?

And what if he really never saw her again?

T/n’s mom raised an eyebrow at her and glared. She hadn’t spoken for almost a minute, but she looked furious, as if she had interrupted her mid-sentence.

T/n didn’t say anything as she stared back. She was so strong not to immediately wither under her mother’s scathing gaze.

He looked between the two of them, wondering if he should say anything, but the air in the room was so terrifyingly tense-- he kept his mouth shut.

Her mom turned towards him. “I’m sure my daughter is right, you might have dishes to wash.”

He nodded awkwardly. “I probably do.”

“You may go home, Yunho.”

Eager to leave, he misjudged the space between the table and chair, and almost made himself fall when he tried to stand. T/n helped him with the chair as her mom made a noise that told him she was scoffing quietly. He looked to t/n and nodded a thanks to her, and she beckoned for him to follow her outside. She pulled the door behind her, but it didn’t close. 

“I’m really sorry about that.” She said quietly.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, at least one of us is being released from prison.”

Her expression betrayed so much more than what she actually said. She was strong, yes, but she looked tired from the interrogation. Face fallen, she had the look of someone who just wanted to go to sleep. She looked like that a lot, actually. She was way too young to look so tired all the time.

Yunho could tell that she was getting close to that breaking point again, where she’d end up crying for a couple hours with only him to lean on. But they were at her house, and her mom had always been so suspicious of their friendship. He couldn’t do anything that seemed like it was too forward, too affectionate. Too out of the boundaries of friendship and into the realm of romantic attachment. 

And, once again, he was useless.

He smiled weakly, trying to reassure her, and reached his hand towards hers. He couldn’t hold it in his, no matter how much he wanted to - they were at her house and the door hadn’t closed all the way - he settled for touching the back of her hand. It was all he could do.

“Uh-- what’s that for?” She whispered.

He shook his head. “I just feel bad--”

She questioned him silently.

“Having to deal with that all the time.”

She nodded.

It only took a moment. Yunho saw the top of her mom’s head behind the door, spying on them as they said goodbye. Only a moment and the reminder of her sent Yunho rocketing into a spiral, all the questions about the future, all the thoughts of not being able to be what he was to t/n if she were somewhere else, his interior self had already sustained the emotional damage that t/n was used to, but he was not. He was not used to it, and so it all bubbled up in that moment like acid that burned away his better judgement.

Only a moment for him to say something he shouldn’t have.

“But hey, you can come over Saturday and play your bass for me--”

He had said it. And he had said it too loud. 

“Yuyu--” T/n shushed him, panicked.

He shouldn’t have said anything.

“PLAY WHAT?”

He wished he could take it back.

You stared at him, the gentle sound of the tires and the wind over the car filling what would have been silence, like the hushed murmuring of onlookers shocked by what they just heard. And you were no less shocked, your mouth agape as you stared at him.

“Yun… are you fucking kidding me?”

He shook his head, his ears red with embarrassment.

“...Why?”

He didn’t answer.

“Why did you do that to me?”

“I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared you’d leave me.” He said quietly.

“...What?”

“I wasn’t getting any callbacks in Seoul and you already had a band lined up… I didn’t have a plan and-- and you wanted to leave so bad that… I was afraid you’d leave and leave me behind.”

“Yunho, I told you it was going to be me and you in Seoul, why would you think I would leave you?”

“Because, I--”

“Why?”

“Because I liked you!”

You stared at him in disbelief and whispered. “What?”

“I liked you, t/n. I was… I was in love with you.”

You sat back in your seat for a few moments. “Then… Then why did you fuck me over?”

“I didn’t think--”

“Yeah, you didn’t think! You knew how my mom is, Jeong Yunho and you just sold me out like the selfish piece of shit you are? Are you fucking serious? How am I supposed to forgive that?!”

“I--”

“Don’t fucking talk to me for the rest of the ride back.” You pulled your headphones out of your bag, almost breaking them in the process, and put them on. You put on the loudest, most non-melodic music you had and listened to the crashing of noise wall drums and guitar riffs that left no room to breathe, or for any other sound to get in. You were like that for the rest of the ride back, arms folded, face turned towards the window, unwilling to even look at him anymore.

You couldn’t.

When Yunho stopped in front of your apartment, you had turned your music down at that point since the constant loud noise was making your ears ring. You heard Yunho say “I’m sorry” or “Goodnight” or something with more than one syllable as you grabbed your bag out of the backseat and slammed the door without a response. You ran up the stairs without looking at him.

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: Yay! It happened! Also: oh GOD, that happened 😬. What are we thinking?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ • @jaytheatiny​ •

[blossompedal]

God this fandom is falling apart omg why is it becoming so toxic? 😭 This show is my most special thing ever to me and y’all are actually ruining it with all these takes. Like I do agree with some things like the fact that they fucked up a lot in the writing this season and with a lot of characters arcs…

Caitvi situation: Yes this is my favorite couple out of the whole show but I do see their relationship felt off in this season. I don’t understand all the hate though and homophobia that’s coming out of nowhere. I’m not saying everyone has to like them because I don’t like other ships from the show like timebomb but I feel like when people express not really liking timebomb so many people freak out about it 😭 and also with the Caitvi sex scene I do think it was alittle off as much as I love it, but again I don’t think vi was supposed to know her sister was gonna kill herself plus before that Jinx literally gave Vi her blessing to be with Caitlyn. Her whole life Vis main focus as mostly been trying to find her sister and rebuild that relationship with her and the ONE time Vi prioritizes her happiness first everyone looks down on her for it 😭 (but yeah I do get them doing it in a literal jail cell was weird 😭)

Timebomb situation: I love Jinx and I love Ekko and even though they aren’t my fav characters or couple I still do appreciate them and love episode 7. But I hate everyone saying how Timebomb deserved a happy ending than Caitvi and other characters. Like I get it if they were my favs I’d be alittle upset too about the ending but I think their relationship was super toxic.. I mean in season 1 they literally tried to kill each other did everyone just forget?? 😭 Plus I think Jinx isn’t mentally well enough to be in a relationship rn.

Lots of characters and not just Timebomb didn’t get happy endings and I feel like that’s kinda realistic especially just after a WAR. Were usually those don’t end up all happy and jolly…I don’t think Vi got the happiest ending either. Like yes she’s happy with Caitlyn but she still lost her sister and father AGAIN.

Everyone in this show went thru hella trauma and deserve a break and a happy ending but unfortunately I think that would just be alittle unrealistic…

I really just want this fandom to go back they way it was when it first came out cuz omg 😭 and I don’t even care if I’m ranting too much I have a lot more to say than just this.

[drdemonprince]

So I met a guy on a dating app. He’s also Autistic and we have a lot in common. Really hit it off and after some conversation he’s like To be honest I’m not looking for a relationship and I have someone else I really like but she’s not wanting a full on relationship either so we’re looking at ENM or maybe Poly but if that’s not your thing I understand. So I’m a bit disappointed but he’s sweet so I’m like ok let’s be friends.

Then it almost immediately gets sexual and we talk a lot about kink and fetish stuff that we seem pretty aligned with. Which is rare. We sexted a bit and it was great.

But today he told me he’s going on a date with someone. It’s actually a chick I also met off the the same app (I’m bi) but that didn’t bother me. What did bother me was that I got this instant reaction like upset that he was going on a date. It triggered something in me.

Not mad at all with him as he’s been super honest. But didn’t anticipate my own reactions.

So now I have to decide if I stop talking to him and let this go or if I try to move past it and enjoy the positive sides of our friendship.

We had tentative plans to meet in a few weeks time (we don’t live super close to each other). As a date but not a date.

Now I’m super confused about what to do. Especially as I really don’t meet many people that I vibe with and share similar “interests” with etc.

Just not entirely sure I’m built for the whole sharing thing…

Respectfully, it sounds like this dude fucking sucks ass at polyamory and doesn't know what the hell he's doing, and you're gonna get hurt.

First of all, he told you that he was poly because he is down bad for someone who doesn't want to be in a relationship with him? And so what, he's using his other dating partners as some kind of emotional or sexual stopgap?

That's objectifying and downgrading his potential future partners, including you, from the very start -- and it's setting you up to always be in the position of offering him temporary succor from the unrequited desires he has for this other person, only to be sidelined when she IS giving him a lot of attention. Sure, it's great he's being honest or whatever -- but the situation he's inviting you into is honestly disrespectful. You were disappointed to learn about this situation from the start. That feeling is an important signal! He's made it clear that he's not actually emotionally available and will NOT be consistent with you, and believes he has no reason to be.

It's also quite telling that after he established the nature of his relationship with this other person, he pivoted to getting very overtly sexual with you. This makes me wonder a lot about the woman he is pining away for, and what the terms of their relationship is according to her. (because if they're agreeing to get ENM or poly together, that's a relationship! Even if she says it's not a relationship).

Did she tell him that she cares about him but that she doesn't want to fuck him? Is she just less available than he'd like her to be, in terms of time and number of dates? What the hell is this arrangement between the two of them, how much of it was her proposal versus his idea, and where the hell do you fit in in all that?

If two people aren't fully sexually compatible and both parties want to explore sex and kink outside of their relationship to one another, that's fine; I'm living in that situation and it works great. But you have to approach prospective sexual partners with equal respect as you would your pre-existing partner (or whatever the hell she is to him, since they say they're not in a relationship?), and be clear about what you are and are not available for. It seems to me he asked you to be some kind of non-monogoamous, not-exactly-romantic-but-intimate "friends" with one another, and then tried to transition you into being a kinky sex partner once you expressed you could work with that.

I don't mean to remove your agency from this or act as if this is all something he is doing "to" you, because you expressed some interest in him and said the sexual connection is there. But... how much of this arrangement or how any of this is going has had anything to do with you or your stated preferences? Are you just going along with the flow because he seems nice and you want to see some possibilities there and for each new curveball he's throwing you, you're having to find some new way to justify it and make sense of it? What about what you want? What about your feelings? Why do you not get to determine what the relationship even is or where it is going, and he does? Because he's not getting what he wants elsewhere? That's not a good reason. That has nothing to do with you.

It makes sense to me, in light of what a mess his handling of this has been, that when you found out he was also pursuing other casual sexual partners that you felt jealous. Perhaps seeing him seeking out other non-committal, kind of formless sexual encounters with other people made you worry that you were being seen and treated by him in the same way, or that you were basically just a cog he was trying to slot into place for the time being. Or maybe you already felt on some level that you weren't given primacy in your relationship -- because this is a relationship of a kind! -- and now you have to worry about a whole other person who he has his own feelings for and agendas about altering how he relates to you.

You're not in the driver's seat in this relationship, hell you're not even really being consulted -- he's just making decisions about the various women in his life that he's trying to have meet needs for him and plugging them in and out of those roles as it suits him. The actual arrangement you all have entered into could be completely fine if all parties actively wanted it and had clarity and control over their own positions -- I'm a non-monogamous but *not* polyamorous person who dates people casually, and so i explicitly seek out others who are looking only for casual sex, that kind of stuff is fine -- but instead, this guy seems to be just making his choices up on the fly based on when he's horny, or lonely, or who is around and easy to get to.

I think you're giving a lot more latitude to him than he deserves, here. I'm not saying you need to dump him if you don't want to, if the sex seems like it could be fun you should go for it -- but on your terms. What do YOU want out of this connection? How do you see it? How much quality time, consistency, and commitment do you need? How comfortable are you with being non-monogamous and what kind of non-monogamy do you actively *want*? Do you see this guy as a friend? A casual partner (but a partner nonetheless)? A fuckbuddy?

There's a significant distance between you two, you two have been talking a lot, you call him a friend, and you call your plans to get together a "date." This is a relationship, whether he likes to admit it or not, and that comes with responsibilities to treat one another well and be honest, and to respect the other person's needs. And he doesn't seem to be showing any sense of responsibility toward the people he is in relationships with, and maybe doesn't even see them as relationships at all? He might seem nice, but the way he is navigating all of this is very selfish and instrumentalizes other people -- and so I think you should listen to that feeling you have of insecurity, because it's signalling that he's put you in a very insecure place.

Tagging in my homie @pastimperfection who always enjoys yelling about people doing poly badly

[skywalkr-nberrie]

One of the biggest arguments I’ve seen used by the Ob*d*l*s against Anidala, is that scene in the ROTS novel where Padmé says she could trust OW with the secret of the rebellion and was hesitant to tell Anakin and I just wanna say:

Padmé wasn't an idiot. She was an extremely intelligent and competent woman, perfectly able to understand that loving Anakin and thinking that he could be trusted with a certain politic-related matter were two very different things and reducing her choice regarding who to trust with an important political matter only on the basis of her feelings of romantic love diminishes her professionalism, and this is why I say y'all could never understand her.

Padmé didn’t have to "love" OW or even like him at all to know he was the perfect Jedi to ask for help in a secret political matter.

That's the point being made in the novel, she’s hit with the realization that Anakin in this particular moment could not be told this piece of info because of his relationship with Palpatine, and Padmé specifically mentions in the Junior ROTS novel that she didn't want to make Anakin “keep a secret” if he didn’t agree with their stance because it’d be “unfair.” So this also played a part in why Padmé didn’t think it best to inform Anakin about the Rebellion. It honestly had little to do with her actually lacking trust in him, and more to do with the circumstances she was in not allowing her to be open with her husband and her not wanting to make him choose between his wife and his “father figure.”

However, Padmé knows OW’s political ideas aren't tied to ONE particular person but to a philosophy, one which is closer to her own, at that point. None of this was ever meant to be hinted as “romantic” or even remotely insinuated as romantic. It’s strictly professional and even the tone of the scene makes that so abundantly clear.

All I’m saying is that, some of these proshippers are doing the most out here to try and prove their ship, like my loves? You forgot a very important thing called ✨ context ✨ and regardless of her rational thinking, Padmé still went out of her way to try and talk out all of this Rebellion secrecy stuff with Anakin when she confronted him in the scene where she asks if he ever thought they were “fighting on the wrong side.” Padmé didn’t trust OW in the same way she trusted Anakin (with her entire self and being) she had the level of trust and love for Anakin that was only meant for him.

Mixing up her unwavering faith in Anakin as her husband with her trust in OW’s devotion to duty as her comrade/ally is purposely deluding yourself, because the two aren’t the same and therefore can’t be compared. An example of this is: Padmé constantly putting more value to Anakin’s words over OW’s in the end of ROTS when he came to tell her of Anakin’s “crimes”. She completely disregarded what OW had claimed about her husband and instead made her way to where Anakin was herself, to ask him directly. Despite what the truth was, this is proof of her trusting Anakin unconditionally, and I didn’t even think I had to spell that out because it’s as clear as day.

In conclusion, Padmé didn’t trust OW more than Anakin, she just knew the circumstances she was in didn’t exactly make it easy for her to openly talk with her husband about these matters and that’s part of what played into the issues they had in ROTS, it’s exactly what Sidious wanted. This scene in the novel doesn’t exist to imply some hidden romantic undertone that George was intending all along. No, far from that. George was always an “open, , clear and easy to understand” type of storyteller, so if the former was the case, this scene wouldn’t be any different if there was some hidden message or subtext the reader should be made aware of, George would make it obvious. Fact of the matter is, the one and only reason for this scene in the novel to exist is only to show to us as the “reader” that the narrative is tearing apart the Star-Crossed-lovers (Anakin and Padmé.) and visibly putting the two of them on different sides in the story because the consequences of this narrative choice is what will foreshadow and play into the inevitable and great fall of the couple and character in the future. Even the novel makes a very purposeful and clear distinction between “love and trust” in this chapter where all this occurs. Padmé loves Anakin, but knew she had to trust OW with the situation at hand. And if you want to talk “narratively” Padmé needed a reason to keep the Rebellion a secret from Anakin, thus leading to Palpatine to sense “betrayal” in Padmé later on, and using that to his advantage to manipulate Anakin even more into getting him to “suspect” her. It’s all spelt out for us and it’s not hard to miss. All it takes is a little media literacy and understanding context.

(Mind you, hypothetically, if this scene existed for literally any other reason, it would’ve been brought up again, but it wasn’t. It’s only mentioned once and exists for only one moment which was meant to serve a certain narrative and then it was done. There’s not much to make of it since the context of the scene is so clear.)

[apotelesmaa]

Norma is objectively one of the funniest psychonauts characters though. she immediately assumes this 10 year old is the mole taking down the psychonauts from the inside and decides the best way to gather information is to stalk his dad. Ruins ford and raz’s plan to defeat maligula by being a snitch. Helped save the day by fixing the problem she caused. Is now in hell because she was wrong and all the other kids make her fortnite dance and shout go snitch girl go. Her sister got all the cool genes and now she’s stuck being an insufferable nerd. Probably says “well actually” at least ten times a day. Beefing with a 10 year old. Let’s give it up for pathetic & annoying female characters (fond).

[no1ryomafan]

i was thinking about besides devo getting a anime the most controversial getter anime they could make is a remake of Armageddon cause despite the fact it could absolutely fix the issues the show has it be one of those things that wouldn’t be necessary and people would be sick of more arma content.

But then I thought about “okay but then they could make Kei actually trans if they had the fucking balls” and I know this would NEVER happen but that would make people seethe more then arms being remade and I found that so funny. (And yes this is very much related to my last post)