#I just want to hear his internal narration you know?

[thedaythatwas]

I need to know what goes on inside akechi’s head on the evening of october 24th.

like. look at it from his perspective. he comes to leblanc early. he has his priorities straight: he’s going to play some mind games, really get under joker’s skin.

(bear with me while I get serious about a profoundly unserious conversation)

he’s staking his claim on enemy territory. he’s sitting patiently, waiting for akiren to walk through the door. surely, it will intimidate his rival to know that he’s made himself at home in his living space. look how close he managed to slip without akiren noticing! he even went so far as to strike up a conversation with his odd barista caretaker. akechi would drop some quick political jargon here, reference some continental philosopher’s name there— all in the name of making akiren look totally incompetent.

really, joker should be terrified. he should feel violated, even. akechi would! hence:

look— he’s so self satisfied! yes, he totally won this round!

🚨 BUZZER NOISE! 🚨

see, akechi is playing 4D chess. so is akiren! but they’re using drastically different playbooks. we know this because goro akechi procedes to get hit with the following:

I know you as the player don’t need to select that dialogue option (I could go on about the implications of that, but other posts have already said it better). but you can! and I, for one, do.

not to get too deep on what is obviously a joke post, but I think this offers some insight into those little rants that akechi goes on sometimes. you know what I’m talking about— “oh, you’re so special, so interesting, it’s like we were fated to meet each other!”

yes— they were basically fated to meet each other, but that’s not the point.

as silly as it sounds, the fact that dialogue options like this exist proves the oft-stated fact that akiren is the antithesis to akechi’s thesis.

akechi plans his interactions with akiren down to a tee, and still, akiren manages to throw akechi off his rhythm! every. single. time. nobody else does this.

part of this is because akiren sees his interactions with akechi for what they’re worth. it’s all a gamble, a chess match. akechi appreciates that akiren is an equal player in their game. he respects that. it takes intelligence to see a bluff for what it is, and to call it. flirtatiously, too!

that respect is what makes their relationship so compelling. it holds true whether you read what they have as love, hate, obsession, or, hell, even all of the above! you know it isn’t indifference, because that doesn’t make any sense coming from either of them.

call me crazy (I certainly deserve it) but if akiren responds “honey, I’m home” to akechi, he hears another message loud and clear: I see what you tried to do here, I’m calling you on it, and you don’t scare me. you’ve made your move, and I’m going to undo it with flair, because I’m joker, and you love it.

and when you look at it like that, it makes sense why little things might set off akechi’s thoroughly-stated appreciation of akiren. they aren’t “little” to him at all. I’m sure he doesn’t wax poetic just to fuel akiren’s ego, anyway. that isn’t quite his style.

and hey! even if akiren didn’t mean to communicate all of that (he totally did though), it doesn’t make the sentiment any less real to akechi! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. the guy has issues. let him plot the downfall of his enemies (real and perceived) in peace <3

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Internalized Homophobia / Transcript / AN under the cut

AN: Here we are, just one more post before we conclude part 1 of this bittersweet story. As I've mentioned before, this story consists of three parts- Part One - Youth | Part Two - Uni | Part Three - Wife.

Transcript

Nancy Narrates: [As a treat for the few students who stayed behind, the nuns took us into to the city to shop on Christmas Eve]

[It was the first time Vanessa and I spent alone time together since I started dating Geoffrey]

[I’ve never been happier]

Nancy: [blushes] What?

Vanessa: [whispers] Do you feel like we’re being watched?

Nancy: Oh, Sister Agnes? [gulps] She’s right behind me, isn’t she?

Vanessa: [laughs] I’m serious! Let’s ditch the group.

Nancy: And risk getting a mark? Or worse, sent back home?

Vanessa: [shudders] Having to spend the rest of the break with my father? No thanks. Guess I’ll behave myself- for now anyway.

Vanessa: Sooo, what did you get your boyfriend for Christmas? A thong? One of those string thingies for his glasses?

Nancy: [snorts] I got him a broach.

Vanessa: You’re fucking with me, right?

Nancy: What? It was really nice, and very expensive.

Vanessa: Sure, if he’s your grandfather, Nancy!

Nancy: [sheepishly] I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know if I’m even doing this right. Shouldn't it...feel like something?

Vanessa: What do you mean?

Nancy: Holding hands and kissing. I thought it was suppose to feel like fireworks, like everything is burning and achy. I only felt it once...the first time, at that party.

Vanessa: Oh.. [looks away] Maybe he just needs practice...

Nancy: Maybe... Vanessa, I wa-

Vanessa: Hey! Let’s get some hot cocoa!

Nancy Narrates: [I wish she knew how much I missed when it was just me and her]

[No matter what, she will always be the sun to me]

Vanessa: So, are you going to tell me what’s in those bags?

Nancy: Maybe you should Guess?

Vanessa: Very funny, Blondie. I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts?

Nancy: [pouts] Does that mean you didn’t get me anything?

Vanessa: That’s because we said we weren’t when we were shopping! I could have gotten you something!

Nancy: [chuckles] It’s ok! You really didn’t have to get me anything. I just wanted to get you something I think you’ll like alot.

Nancy: Ta-da! I wanted to officially welcome you into the League of Blondes.

Vanessa: [cackling] No fucking way! This is the best Christmas gift ever, are you kidding!! [digs through bag] What are the scissors for?

Nancy: I was hoping you’d cut my hair. We can both have a new look.

Vanessa: You’re full of surprises, Landgraab. Let’s do it!

Vanessa: You’re being sooo quiet but your thoughts are sooo loud. What are you thinking about right now?

Nancy: Sorry. It’s nothing...

Vanessa: Tell me. Please.

Nancy: No, it’s fine.

Vanessa: Come onnn, please?

Nancy: What happened with Angela?

Vanessa: [huffs] Ah. I was wondering when you’d ask about that.

Nancy: Then why didn’t you just tell me about her?

Vanessa: There’s nothing to talk about. Pretty sure you heard the story.

Nancy: Sure, from everyone else but not from you. I want to hear your side.

Vanessa: [sighs] My side. We were best friends. We did everything together. I loved her a lot. All eyes were on us... so, I guess that’s how everyone noticed how close we were. People were saying things about us, and I was scared my father would find out and think I was like that. So, I turned on her. I called her names. I shunned her. I ruined her life...

Vanessa: It got so bad that she left the school. I never heard from her again. [voice cracks] You have to understand... if my father thought I liked girls, he would kill me. I could never let anyone think I’m like that! I’d rather they all thought I slept around with all the boys in school than think that. I had to do it...

Nancy: Do you?

Vanessa: [sobs] W-what?

Nancy Narrates: [My heart was racing. It just slipped out. And then I said it again, and that time, it felt like I was asking myself]

Nancy: Do you like girls?

Vanessa: [whimpers] I...no!! I’m not...I’m not a lesbian! I swear, Nancy! Please, believe me.

Nancy Narrates: [All that time...I had thought I was the one terrified of what it meant to love her. She was terrified of loving me too]

[This is what kissing should feel like]

Vanessa: [softly] Will you stay in my room tonight?

Nancy: Yes.

Nancy Narrates: [I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. So many things about myself I wanted to share, but there was one thing I wanted more]

[junkissed]

late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

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you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words. 

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not. 

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now. 

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being. 

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it. 

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself. 

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply. 

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest. 

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[runraerun]

-> Part 2

**NOW WITH ART!

(Everyone go shower @stervrucht with love & reblogs because she is a treasure to this fandom and her generosity knows no bounds🖤thank-you bestie!)

AO3 | WC: 7.8k | Rated: E | CW: Internalized homophobia, references to the death of a parent, lots of swearing and general vulgarity from the both of them. Drug usage. Discussions of trading sex acts for drugs. Billy being an asshole but hey what’s new. | Tags: ADHD Eddie Munson, Semi-closeted Eddie, Fully-closeted Billy, One-Sided Steddie (or is it? We don’t know because of unreliable narrator reasons) Bully Billy Hargrove, Bullied Eddie Munson, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Eddie calls Billy ‘m’lord’ in here god help him, Happy Ending, some angst sprinkled throughout, but overall quite fluffy.

(Title is inspired by a song of the same name by Chromeo.)

Summary:

“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, his icy-pop blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the end of his stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”

But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”

“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white smoke between them.

Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.”

Billy Hargrove stands there, half-smirk on his face, hips tilted forward. Like he’s God’s fucking gift. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

And that.

Well.

Eddie isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell isn’t that. 

Or, Billy tries to pay for drugs by offering to let Eddie blow him.

Of all the mugs Eddie expects to see in his neck of the woods, the one attached to Billy Hargrove, resident bad boy slash heartthrob with a notoriously short fuse and a mean right hook, is not one of ‘em.

The fact that he’s alone isn’t much of a comfort, but it’s… well, it’s something. It means if Billy’s planning on jumping him and stealing his stash, then at least Eddie’s got a shot at running and actually getting away with all his teeth intact.

Eddie sucks back on his cigarette, grateful he has something to do with his fidgeting hands as he eyes Hargrove’s approach. Tries his best to keep still—something he’s always been absolute dog shit at. Even as a little kid. They tossed words at him like Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity ’til the cows came home. Never changed anything, though. Mom always just called it ants in his pants. For Uncle Wayne, it was worms up his butt. All said in love, of course. Eddie was ant and worm-free, far as he knew. Just had a lot of energy is all. And a lot to say too. That isn’t a crime! But right now, under Billy Hargrove’s slow approach, he tries his damndest to get all his ants and his worms to settle down. No sudden moves in front of ticking time bombs.

“You’re Munson, right?” Hargrove asks in a low, slightly nasally voice. He’s stopped a few feet from the picnic table that Eddie’s perched on, his canister of goodies sitting unassumingly beside him.

Eddie fights his nerves—bulldozes over them, more like, and smiles wide, holding out his arms in a display of showmanship. “The one and only.”

Billy scoffs as his eyes travel around the clearing. Doesn’t seem too impressed by the ol’ Munson razzle-dazzle. “You alone out here?” he asks, eyes finally returning to Eddie’s.

Eddie shifts, leaning forward slightly—literally on edge. Why the hell did he have to say that so fucking ominously? “I was ‘til you showed up,” Eddie answers.

Billy hums noncommittally and doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s looking Eddie up and down. Sizing him up. Double-checking to make sure Eddie’s not a threat, maybe. Eddie fights the urge to duck his head and pull his shoulders in to assure Billy that he isn’t one. He’s a lover, not a fighter. In theory, anyway.

“Now what can I do for you on this fine evening, Mr. Hargrove? I don’t keep everything on me…“ Eddie trails off before he continues, “But I got anything you’d want.”

Billy snorts, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“You’re from Cali, right? I got weed from there. Stuff that tastes like blueberries,” Eddie leans forward and bounces his brows, “I got some shrooms from the coast too that could even knock someone like you on your ass. So, what’re you into, Hargrove? What’s your poison?”

Billy’s got an amused look on his face. He’s smirking, but no part of it’s warm or welcoming. It sets Eddie even further on edge than he already had been. “You sure know a lot about me.”

Eddie shrugs, feigning innocence. He takes another pull from his cigarette. “It’s a small town; people talk. Especially around people like me. Y’know, the kinda people who don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And you, Billy Hargrove, you’re, well…”

Eddie bites his tongue before he continues to embarrass himself. Clears his throat instead, tries to think of something not entirely stupid to say, but the words rush around his noggin so quickly that he can’t seem to catch and pin down any one of ‘em.

The forest floor crunches under the sole of Billy’s heavy black boots as he takes a slow, purposeful step forward. “I’m what, freak?”

Eddie swallows. Feels the hair on the back of his neck stand. Jesus, does this guy ever blink? Fucking blue-eyed people and their zombie stares…

He smiles despite his nerves. Then, with a tilt of his head, he answers. “You’re hard to miss.”

It’s grounds to get punched, Eddie knows. Innocent as the comment is, Eddie’s been hit for less. Shit, he got shoved into a locker for looking too long that one time in middle school. Spent the whole fucking lunch break with no one but his ripe gym socks to keep him company. So yeah, maybe Eddie’s a little jumpy around jocks like Billy Hargrove who look like they could fold Eddie into a pretzel without breaking a sweat.

Billy doesn’t look like he’s gearing up to punch Eddie, though. Not yet anyway. He just looks sort of… amused.

It’s getting late. The sun’s low in the sky, and every few seconds it catches on Billy’s earring or his chain, both temporarily blinding him. Eddie doesn’t let his eyes wander, though. He’s got enough self-discipline for that at least.

“I’ll take some of that blueberry kush,” Billy finally says, checking over his shoulder one last time before he flicks his head towards Eddie. “But I don’t got any money. Not until Monday. I’ll have to owe you.”

“Sorry pal,” Eddie leans back, palms against the flat of the picnic tabletop. He blows the smoke from his cigarette up towards the sky. “I don’t do I.O.U’s.”

The air shifts between them. Eddie can feel it. The blue-eyed zombie stare darkens, and Billy takes another step forward until his hip nearly knocks up against one of Eddie’s bent legs. “What? You don’t think I’m good for it, pal?”

“I don’t know you, man,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. He always hates this part of the job. He’s been a punching bag on and off for most of his life, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta like it.

“You just went on and on about how you did.” Billy spits, and Eddie flinches as it hits his cheek. He doesn’t dare raise a hand to swipe it off though, lest it be interpreted as a move to strike.

“Look, I can hold it for you until Monday, but that’s the best I can do.” Eddie offers, but it’s not enough. He knows it’s not even close to enough. Guys like Hargrove aren’t used to being told no.

“C’mon man, there’s gotta be some deal you can cut me. I just wanna have a good fucking night. You can understand that, can’t you, Munson?” Billy asks, his voice going soft. Smooth. Breathy.

And even though his insides are fucking liquifying in real time as he does it, Eddie shakes his head, his long hair curtaining his face as he does. “Can’t do it, man.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just beat the shit out of you and take your shit anyway, huh? How about that?” Billy asks, his bottom lip caught between especially sharp-looking teeth. Eddie looks up, his dark eyes lock onto Billy’s salt-water blue ones. Stormy fucking seas. Eddie sure as hell doesn’t want to get beat up tonight, but if he starts cutting deals and giving special treatment to everyone who threatens him he’d be intimidated right out of business. And he needs the cash. Can’t leave all the bills to Uncle Wayne.

Before Eddie can think up a clever answer, Billy’s got his head thrown back, and he’s cackling. “Shit, I’m fucking with you, dude. Put that face away. I swear, no one in this fucking town can take a goddamn joke.”

Eddie doesn’t bother defending himself, just takes his cigarette from his mouth, knocks off the ash and gives a shaky exhale before putting it back between his lips. He barely starts in on his next inhale when the damn thing is plucked out of his mouth.

Lightening fast. Eddie hadn’t even seen his hands—but there was his cigarette, half-smoked, between Billy’s lips. Eddie feels his face heat at the idea of Billy’s mouth being where his own was, just a second before.

“Ha ha,” Eddie mutters, his eyes narrowing. He’s feeling somewhat brave, despite feeling distinctly like a mouse that’s being battered by a cat's paw. “Very cute.”

Billy tips his head, accepting the comment as if it were a compliment. He doesn’t give Eddie his dart back though—the guy just keeps smoking it with a swarmy fucking grin on his tanned, well-proportioned face.

Because the truth is that Billy is easy on the eyes. Nice to look at. It’s entirely counteracted by the fact that the longer you look at that aforementioned face the higher your chances are of getting a knuckle sandwich sent hurtling your way… but Eddie’s still got functioning eyeballs. He can see that Billy’s… well. Beautiful.

In a weird way, though. Like how Eddie pictures the elves from Middle Earth might look.

Fucking ethereal and shit.

“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the cherry of that stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”

But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”

“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white between them.

Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.” He sighs.

But Billy doesn’t ‘spit it out’. Instead, he shifts weight from foot to foot, looking suddenly agitated again. Billy sniffs and scratches his nose with the nail of his thumb. Like he’s tweaking. Eddie waits him out. Curiosity officially piqued.

Finally, after doing his little dance, Billy leans forward, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

And that.

Well.

Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

The shock is written all over Eddie’s face, he’s sure. He’s never been good at concealing his emotions—an open book, his mom called him. Shit liar, is what his dad called him. Either way, he knows the surprise of what Billy’s offered up plays across his face by the way Billy’s eyes dance around it, looking pleased.

“What?” Eddie squeaks out, face suddenly on fire.

“You heard me,” Billy snaps, “I ain’t sayin’ it again.”

Eddie blinks, looks away from Billy Hargrove’s icey freeze-pop eyes. It’s no easy task. “You’ll let me…?”

Eddie motions towards the crotch of Billy’s exceptionally tight jeans. Jeans that leave very little to the imagination, Eddie might add.

Billy grins, his pink tongue caught between his teeth as he leans back, jutting his hips out a little.

“I’ll let you,” he confirms. Standing there like he’s God’s fucking gift.

Though he’s got very little air left in his lungs, Eddie gives a weak scoff. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

And for the first time tonight, Eddie does feel at risk of being sucker punched. Billy’s eyes flare, and just like that his beauty melts into something ugly. Like a spell is cast over him—beauty to beast. “I’m no cock-sucker.” He spits out.

In a show of surrender, Eddie raises his hands. “I didn’t say you were. I just—usually when someone is offering sexual favors it’s… Y’know what? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’m not—I don’t trade in pleasures of the flesh, ‘kay? That’s not what I’m doing here, Hargrove. It’s cash only.”

But Billy’s either got a hearing problem or a comprehension problem because he rolls his eyes and just keeps on bartering. “Fine, I’ll give you a handjob. After my blow job.”

Now. Eddie isn’t a prude. In fact, he’s probably something of a pervert if his porno of choice is any indication of that, but this—with Billy?

Eddie’s spent this entire interaction scared fucking stiff, and now Billy’s offering to go and get him into an even more vulnerable position—with Eddie’s pants literally around his ankles?

“No.” Eddie aggressively shakes his head, sending his curls in motion. No no no. Fuck no. As hot as Billy is—no. The decision is final. Take it or leave it, Eddie thinks stubbornly. Heels successfully dug in.

Billy sighs through his nose, takes a step back and chuckles dryly to himself. “I know you’re a queer, Munson. Don’t—!” Billy snaps, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face when he dares open his mouth to deny it, “don’t fucking lie to me.

Eddie swallows, promptly shutting the fuck up.

Is he really that obvious…?

Billy continues, “I know you’re a queer. I saw the way you used to look at Harrington, back when we were all in school together. Gym class,” Billy leans forward, back in Eddie’s space, their shared cigarette bouncing between them as he speaks, “the showers. Remember?”

It’s been a year since Hargrove and Harrington both leap-frogged him out of Hawkins High, diplomas in tow. A full year, but apparently Billy’s got a fucking photographic memory. Eddie feels his t-shirt stick to his back, slick with sweat. “Whatever, man. It’s not a crime to look.”

“It is in this shit hole of a town,” Billy chuckles, dark and humourless, “so you get it now? I know you like dick. And I like pot. So, let’s work something out, here, Munson.”

Billy claps his hands together between them, loud and jarring. “Time’s a’wastin’, amigo!”

Jesus this guy…

“Even if I did like dick,” Eddie tilts his head and scrunches his nose, “it doesn’t mean I want your dick, Hargrove.”

“A dick’s a dick, man. And trust me, I got a nice, big fat one for you to choke on, trust me, you’ll love it,” Billy laughs as he speaks, watching in amusement as Eddie rubs a hand over his heated, blotchy face. “C’mon, you’ve sucked cock before, right?”

The simple answer is yeah, a couple of times. Every time it ended pretty much the same though. With him being shoved off after they’d finished. Being told they weren’t gay, that if Eddie were to ever tell anyone about the encounter they would deny it, call Eddie a liar, or worse, beat the shit out of him.

He’s not a dummy; Eddie knows being queer in Hawkins is a risk, so it made sense to want to keep it hush-hush. Eddie’s the rumoured gay kid, so if you’re gonna experiment with someone, why not let it be with him? But after a handful of times being treated like trash—something people needed to wash their hands in Javex from after simply touching him—he stopped. It didn’t feel good.

“You don’t gotta answer. I already know you have.” Billy mutters, smug. “Mouth like that.”

There’s no way Billy knows, but Eddie ducks his head, tired of how this entire fucking conversation has him feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Tired of how the darker the sky gets, the brighter Billy’s eyes seem to turn.

And what the fuck’s wrong with Eddie’s mouth..?

“Cash only,” Eddie repeats. Monotone. Suddenly overstimulated as fuck.

Billy finally pulls the last bit that he can from the cigarette, down to the butt, before he flicks the remains of it into the grass. He gives one final, frustrated exhale of smoke. “Fine. Jesus, Munson, you drive one hell of a bargain. But I’ll sweeten the deal for you, alright?”

“Jesus, Hargrove, are your ears not working? Or did you get hit one too many times with the basketball during your jock days? I said I’m not interested. In your cock or your hand or whatever else you try and offer up.” Eddie exclaims, voice going high with strain.

But it’s like the more worked up Eddie gets, the more Billy wags his fucking tail. He’s all lit up, shiny white teeth built for puncturing. He gets back to crowding Eddie—Eddie, who’s one hair’s breadth away from raising his hands and shoving this smug asshole away from him, not caring if he gets his ass kicked as a consequence, but then Billy’s talking again. And Eddie… Eddie’s listening.

“We could kiss a little,” Billy drawls out, angling his mouth towards Eddie’s ear. He lets his voice drop to a low rumble, his words vibrating in that wide chest of his. It sends a chill down Eddie’s spine. “Y’know, make out. You got a van, right? Nice and private. You’d like that.”

Eddie turns his head towards Billy, so close they’re nearly touching each other. His mouth hangs open, slack, but Eddie can’t get a fucking word out. His whole fucking life, all he’s ever heard is ‘Jesus, does this kid have an off switch?’ ‘Eddie, give mommy’s ears a break, please,’ ‘Eddie is very disruptive in class with his constant chatting’. And now he can’t make a single goddamn sound!

Billy, on the other hand, seems entirely pleased at rendering the great motor-mouth-Munson to a mute. “I’m a good kisser, too.” He adds, eyes dropping down to Eddie’s mouth. Like he’s gonna do it right here and now. Eddie’s throat clicks when he swallows.

The embarrassing part is that, well—Except his Mom and his Meemaw and his weird cousin that one time, he’s never… y’know. Been kissed.

Sucked cock? Sure, yeah. That ship has sailed. Sayo-fuckin’-nara.

But kissing? On the mouth? Romantically? It hasn’t happened for Eddie yet. Not that any of what Billy’s propositioning here is in any way romantic, of course, but…

Eddie watches as Billy darts a pink tongue out between his lips, wetting them so that they glisten. Jesus Christ. How can he say no to that? Rules or no, Eddie’s only fucking human. Does he not bleed if he’s cut? Does he not get hard if he’s presented with an absolute fucking smoke show like Billy Hargrove offering to make out with him? All for the low low price of his dignity and a couple of ounces?

“You… actually want to?” Eddie frowns, counter to the nervous smile that’s pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Billy clicks his tongue and shrugs a shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon for like, the hundredth time. “What I want is for you to cut me a deal. That’s enough, ain’t it?”

No, is Eddie’s knee-jerk answer. It’s not enough. Not even close. But, maybe the first kiss fantasy he’s got built up in his head wasn’t ever gonna happen. Especially not for someone like Eddie. He’s probably lucky. Billy’s hot. Willing. And Eddie’s… well, there’s not exactly anyone lining up at Eddie’s front door for the pleasure of his company, let’s just say that.

He feels himself nodding before his brain has even had a chance to catch up. “Yeah. Fine. Okay.”

“Yeah?” Billy grins, canines flashing, “Guess I should’ve started with the chick stuff first, huh?”

Chick stuff? Eddie makes a face. Suddenly emboldened, he shoves a hand against Billy’s shoulder, which just makes him laugh harder. “Don’t be a shithead, Hargrove, or deal’s off. Got it? I’ll walk, I swear to Christ!”

Billy doesn’t agree nor does he disagree, he just leers after Eddie like a fucking bonafied weirdo. And as someone who’s all but cornered the market on being a bonafide weirdo, that’s saying something. He hops off the picnic table, scooping up his lunch box of goodies as he does, not daring to turn his back on Hargrove. “I’m parked just through here.”

Eddie starts towards his van, stealing glances over at Billy as he trudges on after him, only a step behind. Just enough to make Eddie nervous. “Don’t you have like, a job?”

“Two of ‘em, actually.” Billy answers, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Why?”

“How do you not have any cash on you?” Eddie asks, blunt as always.

Billy stiffens, just a little. “That’s none of your business, Munson.”

Eddie raises his hands in yet another mock surrender, “sure, whatever. Remain a man of mystery, I don’t care.”

Just seems stupid, is all. Billy must be fucking terrible with money. Probably spends it all on his obnoxiously loud car. Eddie doesn’t voice any of his many theories though. Billy’s covered in live wires, and Eddie’s not overly eager to start touching and testing ‘em.

The woods aren’t especially dense, but it’s new growth—the old forest chopped down a few decades back and left to grow back all weedy and skinny. There’s lots of branches to duck under along with dirt holes to roll your ankles in. Eddie knows his pathway like the back of his hand by this point, but Billy; not so much. There’s a bundle of eye level branches that always used to smack Eddie in the face when he was focused on his footing, so he makes sure to turn and holds the offending branches back for Billy so he doesn’t totally eat it.

Thinking back, maybe it’s a weird thing to do for another guy, but Eddie’s radar for what’s weird and what isn’t has been busted since he first got cut out of his mom. Always difficult, even back then.

So yeah, Eddie doesn’t get a thank you, or whatever—instead Billy just eyes him with an air of suspicion as he ducks under Eddie’s arm. Like he’s waiting for Eddie to let the branches go or something. Who knows.

Either way, it’s the last great hurdle before they’re back at Eddie’s van, which is right where he left her; parked in the middle of the small gravel lot behind the watershed. Nobody came back here, especially not at night.

His hands shake when he takes out his keys, feeling Billy’s eyes on him. Briefly wonders what kind of mess was waiting for them in the back, but whatever. It’s not like Billy’s expecting The Ritz.

He gets the doors unlocked, and because he’s a gentleman, he holds the door open for his hook-up.

Despite his nerves rattling around under his skin, Eddie gives a little flourish for good measure, holding out an arm for Billy to take. “After you, m’lord.”

Billy scoffs, blue eyes rolling back in his head. And as dim as the light is, Eddie swears he can see two pink spots form on the apples of Billy’s cheeks. He counts it for a win.

“You’re so fuckin’ weird.” Billy mutters as he crawls into the back of Eddie’s van, pointedly ignoring Eddie’s offered arm, the whole thing shifting with the heft of him.

“Wow, y’know what, Hargrove, I had never heard that one before.” Eddie says, hot on Billy’s heels. He swings the door shut behind him.

The back of Eddie’s van is pretty spartan, but only because he’d just finished using it to lug a shit ton of gear to and from a Corroded Coffin gig. What’s left behind is a couple of ratty blankets, some old sweaters, a scattering of sheet music and some candy bar wrappers. It could be neater, but overall it’s not terrible.

Billy sits with his back to one side of the van, his legs spread, knees bent. He sits like a man. One used to taking up room and not apologizing for it. Eddie backs himself up against the opposite wall of the van’s interior, knees bent to his chest, legs crossing at his ankles. There’s not much light back here, but Eddie’s eyes adjust quickly to spot Billy’s agitated-looking face.

“Well?” Mr. California barks, one of his legs begins bouncing restlessly. It shakes the whole van.

Eddie swallows, “well?”

“Where’s the weed?” Billy asks.

Oh.

Right. Wake up, Munson.

Eddie scrambles to get his feet back under him before he squeezes his upper half into the front of the van, reaching into the glove box to grab a baggie.

“Here y’go.” Eddie winces as he pulls himself back through. He sits on bent legs, closer to Billy now. He bestows upon him the sacred sandwich baggy of goods. “Premium blueberry kush, 100% indica. So it’ll mellow you right out. Not that you need to chill out, of course, but, y’know. It should, in theory, help with that scary vein you get in your forehead sometimes.”

Billy glares at Eddie as he swipes the bag out of his hands, the scary vein threatening to make an appearance right there and now. He turns that glare toward the bundles of dried herbs.

“You got a bong or a pipe or somethin’?” Billy mumbles.

“Duh,” Eddie scoffs, breathing entirely too hard, “Why?”

“What’d’ya mean, ‘why?’ To smoke this shit with.” Billy gives the baggy a few vicious shakes in front of Eddie’s face.

Eddie feels his eyes cross as he follows the weed. “Right now?”

“Unless you feel like rollin’ it.” Billy shrugs, sounding like his already thin patience is beginning to wear even thinner.

“No—uh, I just thought you’d wanna smoke at home or whatever.” Not with Eddie.

A crease forms between Billy’s eyebrows as he frowns. “What, you don’t wanna smoke with me, Munson?”

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, “hey, I’ll smoke with anyone—“

“Then shut the fuck up and get the bong already!” Billy shouts, fuse burnt down to the quick.

And if there’s one thing about Eddie, is he responds well to yelling. Or, not well, per se, but shouting always seems to snap him out of whatever fog he’s in. It works on him. So, yeah, he responds. Jumps to attention. His mom used to have to snap her fingers in front of his face to ‘bring him back’, she said. No one else seems to bother with that sort of gentle touch with Eddie though, except Uncle Wayne, but he usually just gives Eddie’s hair a tussle instead of a snap.

So back to the front he goes, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting the old girl up while he’s there so that they’ve got some music to fill the silence. And if memory serves him correctly, Billy’s got pretty decent taste, music-wise.

When he sits back down, bong in hand.

“Ta-da!” Eddie sings, holding the contraption up by the neck to Billy in victory, careful not to tip it over. Billy looks entirely unimpressed as he grabs it out of Eddie’s hand and slots it between his thighs.

Lucky bong.

Billy starts grinding up some pieces between his fingers and packing the bowl with a familiarity that Eddie can respect.

Technically, it’s still Eddie’s weed that Billy’s prepping, since he hasn’t exactly gotten payment for the pot yet, but… maybe Billy needs the vapour courage before he can face the idea of kissing another dude. Of kissing Eddie.

Eddie watches from behind the hair he’d let fall in his face as Billy lights the bowl, inhales, and takes a hit. It’s sort of pretty, the way he slowly exhales the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Away from Eddie.

Then the bong is being pressed into his hands. Eddie’s turn.

He takes a rip, then another one once Billy’s taken another hit of his own, and that’s all it takes for the both of ‘em to get laid out on their asses. They end up flat on their backs, the round part of their shoulders touching, both staring up at the ceiling of the van, with rolled-up sweaters and blankets under their heads in the way of makeshift pillows. They’re the kind of high where time feels like it’s barely moving. Something made up. A concept. Like there’s a very real possibility that Eddie and Billy have been lying here for an eternity, and then some.

And Eddie still hasn’t gotten any kisses from Billy.

But he also hasn’t gotten any punches by Billy either, so there’s that…

“You ever seen the ocean, Munson?” Billy murmurs in a voice that’s gone a little rough thanks to all the smoke still floating around the van. Now successfully hot-boxed. Drawing out their high.

Eddie’s arms feel heavy. “No.”

Billy turns his neck to look at Eddie like he’s re-evaluating his idea of him paired with this new, disappointing information. Eddie turns his head away from Billy, just a little, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “Never even left the state.”

Small town, trailer trash… that’s probably what Billy thinks of him. Billy, who’s been everywhere. Especially compared to Eddie. He expects to get laughed at, but Billy keeps surprising Eddie. He just looks… bummed out.

“You’d probably hate it,” Billy states, sure of himself, eyes dancing across Eddie’s face. “You’d burn right fuckin’ quick. Get sand all up in your shorts. D’you even know how to swim?”

“A little.” Eddie means to say defensively, but it comes out as little more than a sigh.

“Not in waves, though, I bet. You’d end up swallowing your weight in seawater before I hauled your ass out,” Billy’s smiling at the strange little fantasy where Eddie’s tormented by the elements. Eddie’s giggling along too, though he’s entirely unsure as to why.

“A crab might even,” lighting fast, Billy reaches over to punch the barely-there roll on Eddie’s stomach, “get’chya.”

Eddie yelps—or maybe he squeals. He can’t be sure. Either way, whatever sound he lets out isn’t in any way charming or cute. Which; no surprise there. Instinctually, his hand’s gone and encircled itself around Billy’s wrist, but he’s too fucking blitzed out to do more than just squeeze it, trying to appear threatening. Sort of tough when you can’t stop fucking giggling. “Stop, stop—I’m gonna piss myself, dude.”

Billy’s got his tongue caught between his teeth, laughing along, low and rough in his throat, but to his credit (and probably a desire not to be covered in piss) he releases his hold on Eddie’s stomach.

They settle back on their backs, one Metallica track leading into another. It’s the only way Eddie can be sure the clocks haven’t all stopped entirely. Proof the passage of time is still in working order. He exhales in relief, staring at Billy’s profile.

For someone so fucking scary, he’s got deceptively cute features. An honest-to-Christ button nose, along with some ridiculously long eyelashes. Golden ringlets fall around his face. Freckles too, all over his cheeks. Even a Cupid’s bow. When Billy fell from heaven, he didn’t hit like, a single ugly branch on his way down.

Eddie blinks before his brain catches up with what he’s looking at; Billy, staring back at him. When did Billy turn his head? How long have their eyes been locked? A second? A year? Time’s fucking with him so hard, Jesus…

“M’not really an outdoorsy kinda guy.” Eddie admits, unable to keep from smiling.

Because of the weed.

Billy gives a lazy snort as if what Eddie had just said was the understatement of the year. “That’s weird, because you kinda look like a bug.”

It shouldn’t make him laugh as hard as it does, but Eddie feels the rumble of it in his chest, and he can’t help but let out a series of very unflattering sounding laughs. Billy’s not laughing along, but he seems entirely entertained by Eddie’s fucking display.

When he finally catches his breath, Eddie indignantly squeaks out, “How do I look like a bug?”

“Because,” Billy flicks his chin towards Eddie’s face, teasing half-smile still firmly in place, “you got them big buggy eyes.”

Eddie blows a low-energy strawberry, rolling his eyes before they land back on Billy. Can’t seem to take his eyes off of him for long. “I’ll have you know that my ‘big buggy eyes’ are my best feature.”

Billy narrows his eyes, clearly amused. “You think so?”

“I know so. It’s what everyone tells me.” Eddie widens his eyes to drive the point home.

Everyone being his mom when she was still alive, and… well, just his mom. But she was a real smart lady. And like, super pretty. A total knock-out. She knew about this sort of thing. He remembers how she used to go on and on about his big brown puppy-dog eyes, about how they’d break hearts one day. And no one, especially not Billy Hargrove, can take that away from him. Even if it is something all moms say to their funny-looking kids.

“Well, everyone’s lying to you,” Billy says, in that casually cruel way of his.

Eddie drops his jaw in an exaggerated show of the offense. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Billy confirms, smug. A true blue asshole; through and through. “Your best feature’s your lips, no question.”

And. Well, no one’s ever said anything about his lips before. Not his mom, not his hook-ups—no one.

They’re just… lips. Not especially big or small. Kind of right in the middle. They’re even kinda chapped right now.

“Gee, thanks.” He murmurs, from lips that Billy Hargrove apparently approves of. Maybe even likes. His fingers twitch at his sides, palms growing sweaty.

Billy just looks away, like Eddie’s caught him doing something wrong. Caught him being nice. Guess it probably hurts the ol’ bad boy image to compliment other boy’s lips. Eddie resists the urge to raise one of his hands and feel along the ridges of his mouth, to map ‘em out. Try and figure out what Billy likes about them enough to say it out loud. He’s buzzing with the compliment.

“So, you still want… y’know, payment or whatever?” Billy asks, keeping his words to little more than a low murmur between them.

The song playing through the speakers stops—a brief pause before it leads into the next one. It’s deathly quiet in those tense few seconds.

Eddie doesn’t answer Billy right away. He can’t. So instead, he just… lets the questions hang between them. Because the thing is, God help him, he does. And yeah, maybe he didn’t plan on his first kiss being with big bad Billy Hargrove—maybe instead of golden curls and freckles Eddie had envisioned dark, fluffy hair and a splattering of moles. Big brown bedroom eyes instead of sharp, icy blue ones. Either way, he’s way out of his depth. Out of his league. In fact, Eddie should be on his hands and knees thanking Billy for even considering sucking face with a guy like him. He should be psyched. And he is!

Fuck, this weed is making it hard to keep his thoughts linear. He stares back at Billy, realizing suddenly that he’s been waiting for an answer to his question.

“Nothing is ever free, Hargrove,” Eddie answers, cryptic, even to his own ears, “you should know that.”

Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? Nobody just does shit out of the goodness of their hearts. Everyone expects something in return. Everyone’s gotta pay the piper. And if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. So yeah, Eddie gives what he can, but he also takes what he can get. Same as Billy, Eddie suspects.

Billy’s got a real perplexed sort of look on his face. Golden and tan, even in the cold, sterile light of night. His eyes momentarily dart to Eddie’s lips, just for a split second. But split second or no, Eddie’d caught it. The tiny motion sends his beat-up little dime-store heart all a’flutter. Billy likes these lips.

“Close your eyes,” Billy tells him, voice cigarette rough.

Eddie does it, trying to keep his breathing even. Shallow, so he doesn’t puff hot air in Billy’s face when he approaches. His hands lay limply by his sides, with his hair splayed around his like some expanding ink blot on the floor of his van.

He has the sudden and quite frankly embarrassing image of Snow White lying dead in her glass coffin, pale-skinned and raven-haired, waiting for a kiss of her own.

It’s so stupid that he ends up snorting.

“What? You think this is funny, Munson?” Billy growls, voice sounding like it’s still to the right of him, but that he’s propped up on an elbow or something.

Eddie shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. A smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth, totally beyond his control. “No, no, it’s stupid. I. Just—fuck. Sorry. Forget I did that.”

“If you think this is stupid, then I can go. I don’t need this shit—“

”No! Stop—“ Eddie reaches out and grabs the front of Billy’s shirt, his eyes popping open in panic. “You’re not stupid—I’m… shit, you’re gonna laugh.”

“Just tell me, shithead.” Billy snaps, face getting more and more red as his temper rises.

“Fine. Jesus.” Eddie squirms under the intensity of Billy’s gaze. All hard edges and intimidation now. Eddie’s only had the Billy that tickles him and tells him nice things about his lips for a fucking millisecond, but he already misses him.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before, alright?” He blurts out, quick like a bandaid.

And with that, Billy’s eyes go a little funny. The icey shards in his eyes melt back to tumultuous waters. “Seriously?”

“No, dude, I’m lying about being a total loser with no game.” Eddie snorts, emboldened by his buzzing high.

Billy frowns, “Aren’t you like, two years older than me?”

“Look, I had opportunities, okay? But mostly… It was, y’know. With girls. Pretty ones, too!” his brows shoot up, attempting to emphasize the point, “but I just… I never wanted to.”

Billy’s stone-still while he listens. Looking like he’s hanging off every word that Eddie’s stumbling over.

“So, you can’t even fake it?” He asks.

Eddie blinks, suddenly lost. “Fake what?”

“Liking chicks.” He answers quickly.

“Nah,” Eddie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “I’m a shitty liar.”

“Poor bastard.” Billy mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he clicks his tongue, “That’s a real tough break, amigo.”

Eddie’s shoulders twitch. “I get by.”

A corner of Billy’s mouth turns down and he tilts his head like he’s allowing Eddie some small, indiscernible mercy.

“I just feel bad,” Billy says, low and smooth, “you starting at the very top like this. Everyone else after me is gonna feel like a major fuckin’ letdown.”

Eddie snorts, looking up at Billy, who’s got himself propped up on an elbow and is sort of hovering above him. “Big talk, Hargrove.”

Canines flash. “Well I got a big game, Munson.”

“You’re a real cocky b—” Eddie’s words are smushed back into his mouth when Billy suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Eddie’s.

Billy’s got a hand against Eddie’s neck, the pad of his thumb against the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up just so. Eddie can hear his heart thundering in his chest, white noise overtaking For Whom the Bell Tolls.

His first kiss.

It’s warm and soft. Drier than he expected it would be. The stubble of Billy’s moustache scrapes against his upper lip, sending shockwaves up and down Eddie’s spine. Billy smells like cologne. Or maybe that’s aftershave—he can’t tell. Eddie fills his lungs with it, breathing deeply through his nose.

The thumb resting against Eddie’s jaw begins stroking along his cheek. Delicately. Like Eddie’s something fragile. Precious, even. He’s gone all tingly everywhere Billy touches him—like magic.

It’s about this time that Billy parts his lips, sliding a tongue along the seam of Eddie’s mouth, gentle prodding—like he’s looking for a weak point. Somewhere to gain entry.

Or maybe he just wanted to taste Eddie’s lips.

Hey, can’t a guy dream?

Billy shifts his weight, further encroaching into Eddie’s personal space, his broad shoulders caging over top of Eddie’s narrower ones. Then Billy raises a leg and swings it over before letting his hips drop over top of Eddie’s own. It’s like touching a fucking live wire. He can’t help the way he reflexively gasps and bucks up into the solid bulk above him. And sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph… he’s rock fucking hard in his jeans. When did that happen?

Flood gates open. Billy—clearly emboldened by the discovery of what he’s doing to Eddie’s body—deepens their kiss by sticking his tongue down Eddie’s throat. The sensation is weird as hell—Eddie’s only ever had his own tongue in his mouth, but there Billy’s is, swirling around, dipping in and out as the sound of their smacking lips fills the van, harmonizing with Hammett‘s insane, face-melting guitar solo.

There are teeth involved now too; Billy’s biting Eddie’s lower lip and pulling, stopping right before it gets painful. It brings sounds out of Eddie that he’d never heard himself make before. Didn’t even know that he could make. All breathy and moany. Maybe he should be embarrassed about how loud he’s progressively getting, but it’s hard to think straight when Billy’s slowly grinding his hips down against his. And Billy’s—fuck, Billy’s hard too. That’s gotta be what that is, right? Jesus H. Christ…

Their hips move in tandem now, the same way their tongues seem to. It’s like Eddie’s body just knows what to do. It’s fucking incredible. He’s never been naturally good at anything in his life. Nothing comes easily to Eddie Munson. Every talent he’s got has been hard-fought, earned through blood, sweat and tears.

But this… Eddie might actually be kinda good at this.

Or maybe Billy’s just a really good teacher.

He’s a cocky asshole, but Eddie fears he might have been serious about everyone else being a letdown after him. Because how the hell is anyone else going to compare to this? To Billy Hargrove. Mr. California King. Eddie could swear he’s glowing right now—like Billy’s spent so much time laid out in the sunlight that a couple of rays got trapped just underneath his skin. Dude can’t help but shine.

Yeah, he’ll be a tough act to follow.

But that’s another Eddie’s problem. Future Eddie. Meanwhile, the here and now Eddie, is getting kissed. He’s got Billy’s big arms wrapped around him, like Eddie’s somehow worth something to someone like him.

Down south, there’s just the right amount of pressure on his denim-trapped dick. He can feel the line of Billy’s own cock bump against his own when he pushes hard enough. He could fucking weep. It’s almost too much—too good. Too perfect. What’s he gonna do with himself now that he knows he could be doing this? God, how’s he ever gonna jerk off when this—when Billy… oh fuck-!

His orgasm hits him like a goddamn freight train. The switch on his brain had gone off and it didn’t even have the courtesy of letting him know!

Eddie’s jaw drops open, mid-kiss, and he pants—moans—into Billy’s mouth. His hips go stiff, stuck in its lifted position, trying to drive upwards into Billy as hard as he can. He can feel himself shake all over as the waves crash over him, one after the other in quick succession, nearly whiting out his vision. He shuts his eyes as he finally comes down on the other side of it, releasing a choked-sounding exhale.

He goes limp. Boneless. Buzzing and tingling and vibrating all over. Waits for the feeling of mortification to overtake him. It should be here in 3… 2…

“Did you just…?” Billy asks, lifting his own hips to examine the scene of the crime. Eddie imagines the wet spot steadily growing on the front of his jeans, a little off to the left, is pretty hard to miss.

“Holy shit, you did,” Billy chuckles, slightly awed sounding, “you just creamed your fuckin’ pants.”

Eddie whimpers. The sharp contrast of absolute bone-deep humiliation paired with the fluttery, intensely content feeling he's still got working its way through his nervous system is enough to make his head spin.

“Sorry.” Eddie blinks his eyes open.

Eddie didn’t think it was possible for Billy to look any more smug than he did before, but somehow, he’s achieving the impossible.

“Don’t be,” Billy insists, a chuckle still at the edge of his words. He grunts a little as he rolls off of Eddie and drops down onto his back. Taking up his previous position of laying shoulder to shoulder next to each other. “I take it as a compliment.”

It’s kinda sweet of him. Because what happened was embarrassing. No two ways about it. Shooting off like that, like Eddie’s some horn dog who can’t control himself?

But, well, if the boot fits…

Billy reaches down and roughly adjusts himself before sitting up. Gentle touches all used up for Eddie, apparently. Then he lifts his ass just enough that he can slide a hand behind him to retrieve a crumpled-looking box of Marlboro reds. Shakily, Eddie sits up too, engaging muscles that still feel jello-like.

Billy knocks out a cigarette and puts it between his lips. Then he knocks out a second one, and without asking, puts it in Eddie’s mouth. Billy leans forward, and Eddie mirrors him—still just trying to keep up—moving until the ends of their cigarettes line up. Billy ignites his lighter, temporarily blinding them both, but he holds it in front of them, and they inhale in tandem.

Smoke fills Eddie’s lungs. The familiar, soothing burn in his throat makes him feel a little more solid. Present. It makes what just happened all the more bewildering.

They smoke in silence.

Well, except for the music from his cassette still humming from the speakers. Billy mumbles something about loving a certain drum solo, but other than that, it’s crickets. It goes on like this until their cigarettes are half their original size and Eddie finally grows a pair.

“What about you?” He murmurs around his dart.

Billy exhales a stream of smoke out of his nose, looking like a sick ass dragon before he answers, “What about me?”

Eddie flicks his chin towards Billy’s general direction. “You wanna get off too?”

Billy just snorts and shakes his head, like Eddie had said something prosperous. “Nah.”

A pit forms in the center of Eddie’s gut. Souring any of the leftover post-nut happy chemicals that were still rolling around his noggin. That sting of rejection. The knowledge that Billy doesn’t actually want someone like Eddie touching him. Like Billy’s itching to go take a shower and wash all the Eddie-cooties off of him, before heading back to his actual life. Like being with Eddie is something embarrassing. It’s a sinking fucking feeling, one he knows no post-high buzz or cigarette is going to touch. Sometimes Eddie forgets that he’s just a detour. Never anyone’s destination point.

“Maybe next time.” Billy mumbles, so low that Eddie almost misses it entirely. He finishes his cigarette before stuffing the butt of it into one of the many makeshift ashtrays Eddie’s got kicking around back here. Then he starts making his way to the back doors, slipping out into the Indiana night.

Next time.

The words echo in Eddie’s head. Bounce off the walls, does couple of cartwheels, spins. The letters get all scrambled up before he’s able to make sense of them.

Next time.

“Pleasure doing business with you, California.” Eddie hollers out a split second before Billy can close the door.

A half-smile forms on that Cupid’s bow-tipped mouth. Pretty as a picture. How did Eddie never notice before? And how’s he supposed to think about anything else?

“See you around, Eddie.” He purrs, knows exactly what he’s doing, Eddie’s sure of it—then slams the door shut between them. He’s engulfed in darkness again. His eyes are back to their unadjusted state, while specks of nothing flit across his blackened vision. He gnaws on his bottom lip to keep the laugh that’s threatening to bubble up from his chest at bay.

Next time.

—

Permanent Tag List: (dm me if you’d like to be added or removed—OR if you’d only like to be tagged for specific ships. ie, ONLY Steddie or ONLY Harringrove, etc.)

@stervrucht @dame-zoom-a-lot @lawrencebshoggoth @morallyundefined @thepossummoldypasta @wheneverfeasible @sanctumdemunson @chaotic-waffle @bookworm0690 @lifelessstar

[look-at-the-soul]

Hola, Mar! ❤️❤️.

I'm here to sending you a request. Tommy telling his kids (it can be both of them, or just Charlie or just Ruby) a story about his mother. We know he didn't have good memories about her especially because what happened, but maybe, he remembered something maybe a bedtime story (or a recipe, music, etc) and he tells them about her. The kids didn't know her, but after that moment maybe they can imagine how their grandma was ❤️.

My dear Flor @justrainandcoffee thank you so much for sending this request!!!! I knew I had to make it extra special since it’s part of my Grandma’s series 👵🏻♥️✨ so I didn’t want to rush it. This made me go back in time to our endless sleepovers, it made me think of her. I hope you enjoy this 💕

Special thanks to @blondie-22 for creating the BEAUTIFUL moodboard, like always you capture the exact essence of the story 🥰

Edit: A/N part of this story is inspired by a song called Toy Soldier by Martika

Word count 1,172

Toy Soldier

The bedroom door cracked louder than Tommy expected, he cursed himself internally because it was late and the house was quiet, the last thing he needed was to wake up his wife.

But she was already up and leaned against the window, the shadow of her frame only visible under the moonlight. Frowning, he stopped taking off his suit jacket midway when he noticed something was under the blankets of his bed.

“Why are you up?” He whispered.

“Charlie’s having trouble with bedtime.” She replied back. “He thinks there’s a monster under his bed.” She then added but also gave him a warning look so he better wouldn’t laugh it off.

“There’s no such thing.”

“They wanted to sleep here for reassurance.” Y/N placed her hands on his chest to lean in for a quick kiss. “He was so scared last night.”

“Daddy?” Ruby’s small voice broke the silence of the room.

Charlie stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

“Go back to sleep.” Tommy urged them.

“There’s a monster under my bed, I heard noises.” Charlie assured him.

Sitting next to his son, Tommy caressed his blonde hair in a loving way.

“I can assure you there’s no monster under your bed, son.” Tommy explained in a calmed tone.

“But I heard…”

Tommy shook his head gently, knowing it was a good time to share a fond memory that suddenly hit him hard. After being pushed back to the farthest place of his mind for years…

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” Tommy assured his boy, then turning to face Y/N he invited her over the bed, “you want to hear what really is?”

“I do Daddy.” Ruby replied while Charlie nodded.

“It’s the toy soldier.” Tommy assured his kids. Then clearing his throat he continued. “All toys come up to life around three in the morning, when the house is quiet and you and your sister are sleeping, they start playing by themselves. But when you wake up, they stop because you must not see them.”

His voice and the fabulous tale he was narrating had both his children and Y/N captivated.

“But how do you know?” Charlie asked trying to understand.

Tommy raised his eyebrows, taking his time to explain it properly.

“Well, that’s ‘cause when I was about your age, I heard noises in my room too.”

Y/N noticed the emotions shining in his eyes and his voice.

“And you had toys like mine?” Charlie asked but Tommy shook his head.

“No, I had a horse made of wood, uncle Charlie made it for me.”

Ruby was in awe. “Like a real horse?”

“Yes but a small one, I carried it everywhere.” He relaxed against the pillows, Y/N knew his childhood wasn’t easy, he was forced to mature earlier than other kids.

“So one night I was terrified and went to sleep with my Mum and she told me it was my toys playing.”

“And she told you how did she know?”

“No, she didn’t.”

And both kids went on to ask a million more questions about their grandma, a loving figure they never got the chance to meet. To Tommy this meant much more than he could put into words, he went on to describe her features, mannerisms and and few secrets, so his kids could feel her close to them in some way.

He didn’t know, but through them and their curiosity, he was healing a part of his broken heart by remembering the good moments, her legacy.

Y/N could see the way their imagination was running wild trying to put a face for such mysterious woman, trying to think of what was like to be on road forever stuck in a caravan as they said, asking how she could ride bareback a horse without falling.

Tommy rarely talked about his mother, it had always been something that was buried deep inside his heart, a very sensitive topic, Y/N knew how much it had hurt him to lose her at such young age. Not having her when he needed her the most definitely left a permanent scar in his heart. Y/N wondered how different would Tommy be under another circumstances.

And by the way he described his mother, Y/N realized he looked so much like her instead of his father, which given the circumstances, was a blessing. Although, thanks to Polly who took the role as a mother figure for the Shelby siblings, they had managed much better than if Arthur Sr. was in charge.

“Why can’t we play with them?” Asked Ruby with a deep frown.

“Because after playing with you all day, they get to work by playing, the soldier gotta watch out the fort right?” He stared at Charlie. “And your doll has to drink some more tea, ey.”

Then, a gentle smile played on his lips.

“So you gotta go to sleep to let them play, so they can enjoy their own time.”

“That’s why I heard noises.” Charlie seemed to think about it for a second.

“Yeah.” Tommy winked at them.

“But my teddy stays with me all night.” Ruby stated.

“Hmm he’s gotta take care of you.”

“Can we stay here? So they can play?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled.

Y/N nodded feeling touched by the way Tommy managed to help Charlie leave his fears behind. Loving the way his innocent mind was processing everything.

“Of course, now just let’s all squeeze in together.”Tommy proposed. Feeling Y/N’s hand touching his hand, he looked up at her.

Soon both kids were fast asleep. The story about their toys playing and making noises was the explanation they needed to hear, to feel Tommy’s reassurance.

Y/N observed her husband taking off his clothes, hiding the gun in a drawer and coming back to bed. Thinking how of course not everything is as it should be, and the kids would realize of the truth one day…but she was more than happy to enjoy that little moment in their own little bubble while it lasted.

“That was beautiful.”

He nodded in agreement. He rarely allowed himself to have moments like these, but he felt the need to open his heart with his own happy memory with his mother, gone too soon. She had missed a lot of important events in his life that he was determined to try to be there for his children.

And at least, he could honor her memory by sharing some stories like the one where the toys start playing after midnight.

Turning off the lights of their bedside tables, Tommy drifted to sleep right away and saw the image of his mother wrapping her arms around a younger version of himself protectively, answering all the questions he had about how could his horse toy could not move during the day, or how would drink water if the river was so far away… and he saw her in his dreams smiling adoringly at him before kissing the top of his head.

Grandma series

Tommy Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @onlydeadcells @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @kmc1989 @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @red-riding-wood @ironpen @holacia3

[voidcanarys]

Blue Lock Fic Recs

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a while now. I truly cannot state how much I enjoyed these fics so if a few, or even just one, stands out to you, please give it a shot. I’ve split the list into three sections, kaisagi, bachisagi and miscellaneous but I have wayyyy more fics so I’ll probs make at least a part 2, maybe a part 3.

KAISAGI

I Pay the Price, You’re the Answer to the Pain by yasuna

Teen | Completed | 42.8k words | 8/8

Romantic Hate-Flirting | Homophobia In Football | Angst | Character Study | Developing Romance

It's been one kiss. One kiss that didn't mean shit. But captured by the cameras and broadcasted for the entire world to see, it has the potential to end both of their careers right then and there.

Kaiser and Isagi navigating the world of football whilst staring on a reality tv show. The banter between Isagi and Kaiser is so fun and I love the incorporation of real life events and controversies.

Oat Milk (and Other Irredeemable Vices) by @caluette

Teen | Completed | 26.5k words | 3/3

AU - Coffee Shops & Cafés | AU - No Blue Lock | Enemies to Lovers | Getting Together

Yoichi Isagi works at a coffee shop on campus, and likes to believe he has the virtue of being patient with the people he encounters. He does not, however, file Michael Kaiser under "people." Or, the coffee shop au where they hate each other. Until they don't.

So cute. Dramatic musical theatre major Kaiser and fed up minimum wage worker Isagi. Brilliant characterisation. Love the dialogue between Kaiser and Isagi and their snarky-ness.

Kintsukuroi by laylayli

Mature | Completed | 54.3k words | 3/3

Processing Grief | Kaiser-Centric | Mending Relationships | It starts Bad But Gets Better

'“Kaiser,” he starts to say, “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but are you really okay?” And he’s not sure, even afterwards, what it is that makes this his breaking point. Whether it’s the fact that he’s so far away from home, feeling like he’s unmoored himself from reality in this surreal, unfamiliar place, or whether he’s just so tired, so defenceless without the fire burning through him and its fumes obscuring the things he does not want to handle. He’s not sure, if it’s because Isagi is the farthest thing from a friend or the closest thing he has to familiarity right now, but he hears himself say, “My father died,” out loud, for the first time since he got the news.' * sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you have been ruined - ocean vuong

Kaiser meeting the Isagi family and learning how to accept help and kindness. Love Kaiser internal dialogue throughout the fic and the constant push and pull between enjoying his time with Isagi and his parents but hating how it reminds him of his own familial relationships, or lack there-of. (Ness and his relationship with Kaiser is also a highlight)

BACHISAGI

Like glass from Sandy Ground by Ethereally & @putsch

Teen | Completed | 7.2k words | 1/1

Aromatic Asexual Isagi Yoichi | Pre-Relationship | Getting Together | Post-Canon

Isagi and Bachira have been best friends for eight years, and pro footballers for six. Isagi knows how Bachira takes his coffee and how many charms are on his phone, is reminded of Bachira when he sees sunflowers or nutmeg in the spice shelf. Bachira can trace every freckle on Isagi’s cheeks and count the moles on his back like constellations in the sky. Isagi and Bachira are not together.

I truly cannot emphasise more how much this fic means to me. I have read it at least 6 times and have cried every. single. time. There’s a specific quote that sends me into tears anytime I think about it (I’m tearing up as I write this). It’s such heartwarming, comforting and beautifully written fic.

Orange Juice by totallyrottentomatoes

Mature | Ongoing | 63.6k words | 5/10

Post-Canon | AU - Olympics | Slow Burn | Unreliable Narrator | Angst with a Happy Ending | Implied/Referenced Homophobia

Isagi Yoichi returns to Japan in preparation for the summer Olympics for the first time in three years, and Meguru finds him again.

The pining is so strong aughhh. Love the incorporation of the original characters. My favouite type of post-canon fic where life gets in the way but the love never leaves.

Sideline Love Story by bogreport

Explicit | Ongoing | 55.6k words | 8/29

AU - No Blue Lock | Most Characters Are Professional Soccer Players | Slow Burn | Feelings Realization | Parenting | Light Angst |

While visiting his family in Japan during the off-season, 25-year-old Bastard München player Isagi "volunteers" to coach his nephew's U-6 team. Enter: the most high-maintenance crew of soccer dads ever to make a scene on the sidelines. Although one of the kids has an older brother who Isagi wouldn't mind getting to know better... Meanwhile Bachira, his arm and his heart both freshly broken, tries to convince himself that while love is fleeting, his monster is forever.

Eeek the kids are so cute in this fic. Isagi being head over heels and not realising it. Bachira developing a crush but hesitating to persue it having just gotten out of a relationship. The author mentions that the “fic's original brainrot form, it was more like a sitcom with an ensemble cast and short silly ‘episodes’ rather than a coherent story” which makes for really fun chapter and a real long slow burn feel.

MISC

Whipper!! by bigdamnher0

Bachira Meguru/Isagi Yoichi/Itoshi Rin

Teen | Ongoing | 15.5k words | 3/6

Bachisagi Are Childhood Friends | Angst and Hurt/Comfort | Climbing As A Metaphor for Self-Actualization or Self-Destruction (Take Your Pick) | Injury | Mild PTSD

Isagi was getting used to the shape of Rin's attention: How he jammed his fingers into Bachira’s back whenever his spine sagged without tension. Barked, “WRONG,” every time they made a move that wasn’t his exact flavor of climbing. Called Isagi’s latest boulder, “fucking lukewarm,” like he was some kind of underpaid undersecretary, delivering him coffee for the day. Still, Rin never failed to hold up his end of the bargain in this tenuous belaytionship: to show them some damn good climbing. The little flame in Isagi’s chest was back. It licked him black and blue. After a near-fatal climbing accident, Rin resolved to never fail again. Isagi swore he'd take the wind out of this pretty boy's sails. And Bachira? All he wanted was a soft landing, just this once. Going up and growing up; cord of threes and all.

Rinbachisagi and bouldering/rock climbing, what more could you want. The way the author writes is so captivating and such an easy read despite all the technical terms used.

I’ll Find my Own Bravado by cygnusknights

Bachira Meguru/Isagi Yoichi/Itoshi Rin

Teen | Completed | 9.6k words | 1/1

Post-Canon | Existential Crisis on a Christmas Cruise | Isagi Yoichi & Itoshi Sae | Isagi-Centric

Meguru and Rin are hooking up. And Isagi… doesn’t hate it, but he’ll certainly have an existential crisis about it on the trio’s Mediterranean Christmas cruise, where he runs into Sae and has a weird holiday not-hookup.

The platonic saesagi is definitely the star of the show. The small Oikawa cameo was also very funny.

Despite the Overwhelming Odds, Tomorrow Came by @icarianiscariot

Itoshi Rin & Shidou Ryuusei

Teen | Completed | 19.7k words | 5/5

AU - No Blue Lock | Suicidal Thoughts | Depression | Platonic Relationships | Absent/Neglectful Parents | Angst with a Happy Ending

"Rin," Shidou repeats. "Where are you?" "I'm—" and fuck, it's so embarrassing, isn't it? The Sae in his head sneers at how lukewarm and pathetic this all is. Begging for someone to ask him to live. "Um, I'm at the bay, up on the bridge. "Silence for a few beats, and then he can hear the clink of Shidou's ridiculously oversized keychain, followed by the slam of the door and his car coming to life on the other end of the line. Rin isn't okay, and the only person he can think to turn to is his shitty brother's annoying boyfriend. A fic on platonic bonds, little things that make big differences, learning compassion toward both others and the self, and coming to terms with being alive. More or less.

A certified Blue Lock classic in my opinion. A must-read even!

On a Wire by merulus

Karasu Tabito/Otoya Eita

Teen | Completed | 128.3k words | 22/22

AU - College/University | Getting Together | Panic Attacks | Fluff & Humour | Trans Karasu Tabito

As a junior in college pursuing his passion for soccer while also putting just as much focus into having a solid post-graduation career path, Tabito Karasu honestly thought he wouldn't have enough time for romance. And especially given how his last relationship had ended, he wasn't even sure he would be able to deal with that kind of stress; he wasn't exactly a fan of letting someone in just to get hurt by them. He would rather stay on track to graduating with honors even if it meant being alone. But somehow that goddamned Eita Otoya was able to sneak his way through all of his defenses, painfully securing a place in his heart. They had been both roommates and teammates since the beginning of freshman year, and by now they also had easily solidified themselves as each other's best friend. They recently moved into an on-campus apartment with their other friend Kenyuu Yukimiya, and life was good. Karasu happened to have feelings for Otoya, but he had had this affliction for the better half of two years so it was something he was unfortunately just trying to get used to. He tried to ignore it most of the time since Otoya didn't feel the same; he was straight. Sometimes it really didn't feel that way, though.

Part 2 of a series but it can be read alone (definitely read part 1 if you enjoyed this tho)

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Full-Cast Audiobook Imaginations

So with the sequel on the horizon, we’re not that far from a full-cast re-recording of the audiobook, right?

I listen to the audiobook more than I read the book, mostly because I can listen to it while doing other stuff, and no offence to the original narrator, but while it’s good, it’s not the best. I kind of cringe at his British accent for Henry.

So I have a lot of thoughts.

The thing is with an audiobook, we can get both the wonderful vocal performance of the movie cast, and the iconic book lines, the ones that didn’t, and frankly, could never have made it into the movie due to format restrictions:

Sexy explicit sex scenes

Sexy explicit sex lines “For fuck’s sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night”, “I want you to fuck me”, “I’ve been thinking about your mouth on me all well”

Emails in their entirety

Email openings and endings “Huge Raging Heache Prince Henry of Who Cares”, “First Son of Shirking Responsibilities”, “Horrible Revolting Heir”, “First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege”, “Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft”

Email historical quotes “The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you”, “I meet you in every dream”

Swearing and explicit language “fucking shit” “I fucking love you, okay?”

Internal Struggle

Iconic lines that didn’t make it into the movie for adaptation and story purposes “I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you” “I love him on purpose”, “America, he is my choice”

Like, imagine hearing all of this in Taylor, in Nick, in Sarah and Uma and Ellie and Rachel and Thomas and Aneesh and Cfiton etc etc 's voice. Just imagine it!!!

Another thing to add is that to put it in simple terms, the current version of the audiobook does the dialogue lines closer to theatre acting: more enunciated, more inflection, and slower. Which is fine in its own right (I’m a theatre kid). But with the cast audiobook, hopefully, we can get them to do something closer to film acting, i.e. closer to reality, reading the lines as they would if they were to shoot those scenes.

Which is gonna make big moments like sexy times and confrontations a lot of fun :D

And something really entertaining to think about is now that we also know the cast and their dynamic is thinking about how much fun they would have while recording the book, especially when they have scenes together. And it’s not necessarily just Taynick, it’s group scenes with the whole Super Six, like the karaoke scene in chapter seven, or the Texas Holiday Scenes with Firstprince and Junora.

Like, Imagine it, the actors in the same recording studio, maybe even on the same couch:

Taylor and Nick laughing while reading off the insults from the earlier frienemies days of their relationship

Taylor and Nick squirming and playfully hitting each other when recording lines for sexy scenes like the first night, or the tack room, or Wimbledon

The cast shouting and booing (playfully) whenever someone messes up a line in their group scenes

The chaotic fun that is the LA karaoke scene, everybody’s laughing, Ellie gets to be the singular sober person while everyone else acts drunk, Nick singing Don’t Stop Me Now shittier (Nick has the voice of an angel but book Henry can’t sing for shit),

Taylor and Nick giving each other hugs after screaming at each other for the Kensington confrontation

Nick grinning smugly at every book height difference mention (:<

More of Taylor speaking Spanish!!!

Thomas gets to be a proper asshole villain who later turns into awkward older brother who's trying

Ellie gets to do the pie metaphor grief monologue  

Taylor gets to do another speech (he’s really good at delivering speeches)

 I want to quickly reiterate that I am in no way unhappy with what we got in the end for the movie; I love it to pieces. However, as Matthew and Casey said, there are two “canonical” versions of the story now, and since audiobooks are an option, it would be really nice to connect this aspect of the movie verse with the book verse in some sort of middle ground.

So yeah Audible? Amazon? Get on with it!!!

@almightaylor this was the long post I mentioned, I literally started this in July lol

[stopper-my-heart]

Nick Nelson's Comphet Hair Sweep

Hear me out. You know this gesture?

This is Nick Nelson's Comphet Hair Sweep™️.

I'll be sidestepping the trees today in favour of the forest (i.e., skipping over the other layers that any single instance of this gesture may involve in favour of the theme that unifies them: comphet).

'Comphet' = compulsory heterosexuality

For the purposes of this post, I mean that Nick uses his 'hair sweep' gesture when he's feeling self-conscious about his sexuality and is feeling compelled – from somewhere internal, external or both – to be or appear heterosexual.

Now then! Let's look at every single instance where Nick does his Comphet Hair Sweep (and a couple of times he doesn't, to support the point).

Season 1

Episode 1: Charlie's existence and awesomeness are causing a lot of confusion for Nick (a.k.a. Nick is trying to bury his sexuality head in the sand). In this episode, Nick's Hair Sweeps are all or almost all about him trying to reassure himself of or reassert for himself his heterosexuality.

1. This is one of Nick and Charlie's early "hi"s, seen during their "hi" montage. Nick: “Hi, I don't find you cute, everything's Normal.”

2. During lunch, Nick is playing rugby with the lads and Charlie is distracted by watching him. 'Coincidentally', Nick does his Hair Sweep right after Charlie looks over. Or maybe he's just feeling like he needs to be straight lad/bro-y with his rugby mates. Either way, there doesn't seem to be any hair in Nick's face that actually needs pushing out of the way.

3. Nick hears Coach Singh praise Charlie's running and looks over to watch. Nick is impressed and not staring at all.

4. Charlie tackles Nick for the first time. This physical contact is perhaps more Something than either of them was expecting.

5. Nick tackles Charlie. We don't see Nick's face while he does the Hair Sweep but all of his other faces surrounding this moment suggest surprise, enjoyment and confusion that are not solely related to Charlie's improvement at rugby. (Hello, leaves. Thanks for the reinforcement.)

-----------------

Episode 2: For the majority of this episode, we see Nick spending time alone with Charlie. He seems to be setting aside any confusion in favour of having carefree fun with Charlie earlier on and then later explores his sexuality a bit rather than avoiding it or pushing it down. As a result, we have only one Comphet Hair Sweep in this episode, during the transition between Nick's approaches.

1. Charlie helps Nick play the drums. Nick, steeling himself a very hetero-normal amount: “This is fine. Charlie can be pressed against me from shoulder to knee and I'll feel nothing.” (Narrator: He did not, in fact, feel nothing.)

This marks a shift where, from here on out, every single Comphet Hair Sweep is because of someone else's expectations of Nick rather than his expectations of himself. He can no longer ignore or avoid or refuse to recognise that he's into Charlie.

Note that Nick googles “am i gay?” at the end of this episode.

-----------------

Episode 3: This episode is another one where Nick spends a lot of time seeking out and spending time with Charlie, as well as defying his mates' expectations. As a result, we again have only one Comphet Hair Sweep.

1. Harry and Sai are discussing girls Nick might be able to get with at Harry's birthday party. Nick is feeling compelled to seem straight for the lads, but he also wants to shut down this discussion (his actual crush is right there and might get the wrong impression!).

-----------------

Episode 4: Unfortunately for Nick, in this episode he has to be around other people, with whom he hides himself, more often again.

1. Imogen immediately notices that Nick looks different (i.e., happier and more himself) after he and Charlie get together. Obviously Nick needs to re-place his hair after Imogen ruffles it, but he also wants to hide that the change is related to something decidedly not-hetero.

2. After Harry chucks a rugby ball at Tao, and Nick comes to check on Tao and collect the ball, Tao takes out his frustration and anger by throwing it back at Nick. If Nick wasn't already aware of Tao's feelings about the rugby lads, from this interaction alone it's clear to him that Tao is assuming that he's like Harry because he's part of that group, just another one of the (straight) laddish lads.

3. Before the St John's rugby match, Charlie jogs over to meet his friends who have come to cheer him on. Charlie has just reassured Nick that he won't say anything about their relationship to his friends, but Nick is still nervous and feeling a need to appear straight, especially with his own friends and the rugby lads all around.

4. Darcy nevertheless picks up on something romantic between Nick and Charlie and asks Charlie about it. When Charlie replies, "We're friends" and Darcy pokes at it a bit more, we can see Nick (who's been eavesdropping) in the background doing his Comphet Hair Sweep to compensate.

5. After Charlie is tackled during the rugby match for the first time, Nick calls out to him (which he doesn't do for any other player). We then see Nick come into frame in the background and do a Comphet Hair Sweep before the camera cuts away.

-----------------

Episode 5: Nick makes big strides towards pulling away from others' expectations of him in this episode. This is the beginning of the end of the Comphet Hair Sweep.

1. Harry throws something at Tao and Charlie, Tao retaliates with a shove and an insult, and Nick tells Harry off to stop the confrontation. However, Harry then turns on Nick, saying, "Aw, are you gay for them?", eliciting laughter from the rest of the lads. This homophobia hits close to home for Nick; he loses his nerve, stops sticking up for Tao and Charlie and does his Hair Sweep, uncomfortable but hiding behind appearing straight once again.

2. Nick invites Imogen to the park to tell her that he's not romantically interested in her. After doing so, Nick begins to do a Comphet Hair Sweep but abandons the gesture, changing it to just slightly pushing his hair to the side. This reflects Nick's decision to then be as open and honest with Imogen as he feels ready for at that moment, offering a confession of not “fitting” with their friend group.

2.5. Note that at the end of Nick's talk with Imogen, there's much more hair in Nick's face that he does not attempt to Sweep aside.

3. Unfortunately, Nick hasn't escaped Harry's grasp fully yet. He seems frustrated at letting himself continue to be confined by the group's hetero expectations but still chooses to conform, for now, though possibly deciding after this Hair Sweep that he needs to break free. (Cue animated lovebirds taking flight.)

-----------------

Episode 6: This episode marks the end of the Comphet Hair Sweep as Nick begins to come out to people. Tara has also just publicly come out and is struggling with the fallout from that.

1. Demeera on Reddit posited that the locking music practice room is a metaphor for ‘the closet’. If we take that view, it seems especially telling that Nick does his Hair Sweep right after telling Charlie that he may be bisexual and when looking towards ‘the closet’ where Tara and Darcy are currently trapped.

2. Note that it's Nick who then shoves open the door to ‘the closet’, setting Tara and Darcy free, and perhaps himself as well. We see Nick attempt a Hair Sweep but with the ‘wrong’ hand, doing it a moment later with the other hand. So he does the gesture twice, with both hands...‘bi’ times with ‘bi’ hands, if you will. (And then he sets off on the LGBT corridor run.)

3. This is the final Comphet Hair Sweep, and, notably, it's out of frame. Nick does it when Tao looks at him -- Tao, who is the last of their friend group not to know about the nature of his and Charlie's relationship, and who Nick knows adamantly believes that he's straight.

-----------------

Season 2

After S1E6, Nick does not ever do the Comphet Hair Sweep gesture again. The only remotely similar gesture he does is in season 2 when he sweeps his hair back after his shower in episode 2. He uses one hand to pull his hair back along both sides of his part. This is a Confidently Bisexual Hair Sweep if I've ever seen one.

-----------------

Note that this post is a mixture of genuine and tongue-in-cheek. I don't plan on specifying further; I'll leave that space for you to develop your own views with less influence from mine.

Thanks for taking the time to read through and consider this!

Thank you, too, to @bairdthereader for contributing "sweep" as the term for the motion.

[moonshynecybin]

Feels like I haven't sent you anything FCO related in a while and I don't have much to offer but I was thinking about those first days/weeks after the announcement when things are still very fraught between them and Valentino is on edge because he truly wants this to succeed and Marc is just being a terrible actor, even when he lets Valentino take the lead (which, 95% of their joint interviews, let's be real, but whenever Marc is asked something on his own? yeah, that baby knows how to lie now but back in early 2016? with his feelings written all over his face? yeah, no).

So. Cue to the two of them in one of their motorhomes, post whichever event where it was obvious Marc had issues pretending he wanted to be there (it gets better with time and with Valentino's support, etc etc, but, bad day) and as usual, just a vision, of Valentino looking at Marc and going "Fuck's sake Marc, you need to learn how to lie properly."

Because every now and then, it's my favorite thing in the world to picture Valentino saying the most insane shit. I'll let you pick Marc's reaction.

Although, I will say, in my mind there is one version where Valentino is really tired/annoyed (could be because of exterior circumstances that have nothing to do with Marc, bad night of sleep, bad race, whatever) and he goes "You know what? Maybe we should practice. Come on Marc. Look at me and lie to me. [pause] Do you need me to start with an example or do you need me to provide you with text?"

[It's not my forte or my favorite thing to do to think of mean™️ Vale, but, well, happens.]

valentino in fco au fully believing marc’s ability to lie at the beginning bc he’s crazy and then being forced to be close to marc who has recently been cracked open like a lil egg and realizing that his face looks different a lot of the time now. at times terribly young and terribly fraught and still reaching out for vale in awkward half aborted little touches that he jerkily pulls away from and vale is TRYINGGG to use his smoke and mirrors magician in the press abilities to keep the lie going but marc hasn’t quite learned how to do that yet. is sort of in the thick of the transition to the marc we know today. and after one weird day where they’re so awkward together that a journalist gives them a considering little look like he MIGHT know something, vale is like okay well. if this doesn’t come easy to you marc (marc fully SO mad that vale can read him here, plays it off with an awkward laugh of COURSE) how about we practice.

so it’s like. truly they’re already doing so many dates/PR blitz thingies but now vale is narrating them (he loves to teach……) with little ways they can help the performance. little ways to lie (imo they aren’t lying rlly they wanna fuck BAD. in some ways this is weird roleplay). so he’s whisking marc away to dance and placing one of marc’s hands on his back and murmuring in his ear to tell him to smile when the cameras flash. he’s chillin in marc’s hotel room with him going over tape of their presscon like u shouldn’t even be answering that question, you should be inventing your own question and answering that one. he putting a gentle hand on marc’s cheek and asking him to lean a little like he wants to hear what vale is saying. it’s all very much a crash course on how to be a charismatic little clown that can wiggle out of questions, and marc has most of it already bc hes a liar boy he’s just also very DIRECT and DICHOTOMOUS in how he sees the world (part of why fake dating hurts his ass bc he dosn’t quite know where they stand….) and he’s being somewhat tortured by being in love with this guy who hurt his feelings bad but is also doing rlly nice stuff for him all the time and is ALSOOOO acting like he wants to fuck him comma, meanly. stop teasing me when you know im still in love with you kinda beat. anyways. by the end unbeknownst to vale, marc is internally fully just like fine. i’ll be fully back with vale for this EVEN IF HE HATES ME, and when it backfires i’ll want to die but i’ll have it for the time being. and vale is spending all this awful time watching marc perfect the performance. close himself off in public. face smooth, eyes too-wide, big smile pasted on. but eventually he realizes that its directed at HIM, not at the press. and it occurs to vale that he might’ve just taught marc some skills that could be used against him

[class1akids]

I feel like even villain stans don’t want Touya alive which is sad. People say what Tododoki family is selfish and they’re not doing this out of love because Touya wants to die. And they hope Shoto is going to the hospital so todofam can convince Endeavor to let Touya die. (Guess people forgot Endeavor was the one wanted to let Touya die along with himself and the rest of the family stopped them)

Sorry to bring my sadness to your inbox but I wanted to hear your opinion on these takes.

I don't think you can generalize, tbh. Some villain stans want him to live, others don't.

I'm also not sure what people expect. When someone is critically hurt, not dead, you take them to the hospital. Then the doctors will do everything they can. It's been what? Max 2 weeks since the battle?

We dont' know anything. We don't know if Touya is awake or in coma. We don't know if they have a viable process to heal him. We literally don't know anything about his condition or the consequences he is facing yet.

I doubt he is in a lot of pain, considering his nerves died at Sekoto peak - that was one of the points of his character's spiral - he stopped being able to feel pain, and being able to cry. But even if he were, that's a pretty insulting thing to say that people who have to go through painful recoveries should just die. There are many people who battle with all kinds of condition and face painful procedures, because we, as a species are wired to want to live.

Also, I'm not sure why people take at face value Touya's rants at the end. "Die!" and "I hate you all" are just expressing those strong emotions of "why not sooner" he's been feeling since the family came to see him. If we go off from his internal narration, which I would think is more reliable, he wants to live:

We also see his eyes come back when Enji apologizes.

When Touya woke up from the coma after Sekoto peak, he wanted to go home and see if there was a place for him in the family:

And I feel like Touya's and the whole family's arc is unfinished unless he gets to see that change and gets to feel that unconditional love he's been denied.

As for consequences - yes, it's tricky, because Touya did bad things and killed people. But this goes for all the villains. Nagant's kill count is probably way higher than Touya's, and she attacked Deku very recently - I don't see people fretting about her going back to the Tartarus. Japan is full of jailbreakers. The situation is chaotic.

I think it's a very American thing to jump to "he'll be on death row anyways" and "rot in prison forever". I live in Europe, where we don't have death penalty because it's deemed inhumane, barbaric and ineffective. So for me, it's far from evident that Touya would need to face death row. Especially, when everyone thinks he's crazy (All Might calling him a madman may be his salvation), then a plea of insanity can be plausible, with him going to a clinic, like Rei did.

[flover4ever]

first date⋆.˚ ౨ৎ ˚ ˖࣪

a/n: i think abt matt and karen's date in that restaurant all the time. such a perfect scene! i wanted to capture that energy. i've always wanted to write a matt x librarian! oc fic. but times are tough and i can never commit to things lol. here's a snippet of what could have been. also, i am not from new hampshire. but oh my god, how pretty!!!!! im jealous.

warning: matt murdock x librarian! reader

matt didn't think his night could go any better. in front of him, he's got the most beautiful girl of his dreams. she told him that he is wearing a white cardigan and light blue dress, the fabric reaches the ground. she told him that the kids from the library tell her it reminds them of when the sky is clear of clouds, only sunny and blue.

matt takes a sip of his wine. "you got family in new york?"

"no," she shakes her head, taking a sip of her water (when he first asked her out, he wanted to take her to drinks. but marianne has sworn off drinking for life). "moved here three years ago."

matt's eyebrows raised. matt realized just how little he knew about her, despite how marianne was the common thread in nelson & murdock. "where are you from?"

"new hampshire." said y/n, a small smile peaking through her, like the first ray of sunshine. "it's beautiful there, so much color and life."

"god, it's hard to describe it," she said. matt loved how she described things, down to its smallest details. she talks in such a cadence akin to deep flowing rivers to morning birds. she can make her grocery list sound like a love poem. "it's hard to capture that beauty... sense of awe at the life around you, you know?"

matt smiled, so hard his cheeks started to hurt. he was sure he'd grow smile lines by the time he's forty if he keeps this up. maybe it was worth it. for y/n. "yeah," he muttered, almost lost in a trance.

"why'd you come to new york, then?" he's genuinely curious, his head titled to the side. "i mean, you make new hampshire seem like another planet next to new york."

she laughs, a giddy and joyous thing. "new hampshire's home. but new york, it never leaves you know? even with the grim and grit, there's something or someone that just makes you want to stay. when I interned here in hell's kitchen, the only thing that kept me moving was the kids. story times, their little faces, their constant questions. all of it. it gave me purpose."

matt hears her heart race, the kind that spoke to one's sense of passion. it was almost melodic, the rapid yet enchanting rhythm of muscle.

"nobody truly understands that they're the future," she said. "our future. i want to give something to them, something irreplaceable."

"like reading?"

"yeah," she sighs, like talking about the children of hell's kitchen filled her with such fervor, she couldn't contain it. "exactly."

"but working with the best lawyers in new york is a definitely a bonus," she adds, holding up her glass of water, the ice swirling against the glass.

y/n narrates what she's about to do, matt chuckles as he does the same, their glasses clinking.

"what about you?" she rested her head on her hand, her heartbeat starting to race as she met his eyes. though their gaze would never be able to meet, his dark gaze became her favorite shade of brown. it wasn't like hers, like earth's dirt in new hampshire's wilderness-- it was gold, shining like embers.

"me?" matt raised his eyebrows.

"yeah," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, her vegan samosas long gone by now. "what made you want to be an attorney?"

"it was my father really," said matt. "he was a boxer. . . caught up with the wrong people. and when i was nine, he died. i tried giving him justice, but no luck. i guess i just don't want any nine year old matt's to feel the same way i did."

"like what?"

"helpless."

her gaze softened. "you're a good man, matt."

"i think you are good, too, marianne," says matt. "better than me."

and he meant it. for years when darning the suit of daredevil, he feels as if there is a twisted part of him taking over his soul. every punch felt one step closer to that. being matt murdock, keeps him grounded-- but that wouldn't be possible without foggy, or karen, or y/n.

she seems like she doesn't have to try. she is effortlessly good and pure. and maybe there is a twisted side to her that she hasn't shown to him. but he's hanging out the hope that this is who she truly is. a person who is kind and good at her core, even if she had to eat through the rotten parts of herself. maybe that's what makes her truly good.

[kiirotoao]

HEYY YOUR SO PRETTY BTW AND I LOVE YOUR BLOG

the ask :

so, i wanted to get ur opinion on s3 mike. such as, what he was going through and his internalized homophobia. things like that!

maybe some things w/ him and his relationship w/ el too!

THANKS FOR ANSWERING IF U DO ANSWER :D

I’m gonna pretend that I’m fine after weeks of getting flustered just staring at this in my inbox! Thank you, anon!!! 🥺🥺 You’re making me blush! But, uh, anyways! Let’s talk about Mike Wheeler! 💙

I think that Mike in season 3 is the most interesting version of himself in the entire show because of how hidden his story becomes. In all other seasons, Mike cries openly with other people and expresses his sadness and fears over Will and El.

In season 3, though? Besides the finale, the tearful goodbyes narrated by Hopper, we never see Mike truly cry and explicitly talk through why. Sure, it can be pretty readily implied that it’s because of the Byers leaving, but we don’t hear that aloud. We don’t see exactly who’s on Mike’s mind as those cars pull away. We're left with silent and unsure stares, looks of seeming regret or something else unknown.

Season 3 is truly a huge turning point for Mike, he’s losing his girlfriend and arguably his closest friend in the Party, and it's so easily overlooked because it all happens at the very end of the final episode. Whereas El goes through hell and fights to connect to Billy and save her friends, where Max also feels the weight of his loss, where Will gets his heartbreaking scene at Castle Byers - all the Party members who are very linked to Mike get their emotional moments that season, and we know exactly why they cry.

But Mike dances around his emotions all season long. In consulting Lucas to deal with breaking up and making up with El, in trying to tell El that he loves her without ever saying it, in fighting with Will because "it's not [his] fault [Will doesn't] like girls."

Oh, Mike. I really don't think that Mike was out to hurt Will when he said that. Rather, it's a culmination of heteronormativity and the poor relationship that he has with El and trying to compensate for it. I interpret the outburst as him saying, 'it's not my fault that I'm in a relationship and you're not, so you wouldn't get it.' And by extension, Will being in a relationship would require, normatively, being with a girl.

But at the same time, for a jab that deep - I can't help but question more.

Mike could have said, "it's not my fault you don't like anyone!" or "don't bring her into this!" or even as simple as, "you wouldn't understand!" But no. Mike takes the direct train to sexuality station and brings up the fact that El is a girl. So it seems to me that Mike is very likely harboring something in his heart about why El being a girl is important for him to argue.

But we never know for sure. This moment is never addressed again due to the Mind Flayer’s sudden return. And so it’s up to us as the audience to decide what we think of Mike’s statement. And personally, as I’m sure many of you believe, too, I think that Mike is projecting and trying to hide the fact that he doesn’t like girls onto Will, pushing away his problems to someone he trusts who’s more similar to himself than he realizes.

Tied to his inability to say to El’s face that he loves her, to the fact that they've - reportedly from Hopper - kissed all Summer long with no mention of meaningful conversation, to the very surface-level relational mending his makes by calling El’s outfit “cool” and giving her candy, to the very end of the season where Mike once again denies saying that he loved El just before an open-eyed kiss and a face like this:

Mike doesn’t need to say anything about that kiss for me to know that that’s not the reaction of someone who’s perfectly happy to be back together with his ex-girlfriend. So do I wish that we had a moment of vulnerability for Mike where he expressed his heart in season 3? Yes, but his nonverbals spoke volumes.

So, yeah, I think that in season 3, Mike is very much gay, but he he acts cautiously and self-preservingly because trauma is drowning everything out.

And what is this trauma? I know that I’m working backwards, but I need to bring up that Mike was separated from El for so long in the time of season 2, and I think that that makes him so attached to her in season 3. Think about what else he says in that scene when he admits his love: “I love her and I can’t lose her again.”

As sweet as it is to be reunited to El by the end of season 2, it’s not a clean reunion for Mike. He’s in shambles when he learns that Hopper was lying to him and not letting El even tell Mike that she’s okay.

Not to mention that this isn’t his first but second time almost losing her to the monster that season.

Because of this unstable connection, I think that Mike has built a protective relationship with El, one that focuses on keeping her rather than knowing her, and we see how that all unfolds with his superficial “superhero” complex he has of her in season 4. Season 3 was just the beginning.

And so I think that Mike in season 3 stands as a version of himself that’s confused protectiveness with love. Even though he arguably behaves with that same mindset all the time, it’s at its highest during season 3 because of his never-ending insistence to help El even if she’s capable to do things by herself. Mike isn’t just clingy, he’s worried. Worried for her life. There’s no time to worry about where the problems in their relationship arise, there’s only time to fix them and go back to how they were at equilibrium - when things were normal.

Thus, Mike behaves rather stubbornly. He’s insistent and defensive, not letting a single thing slip through the cracks and risk any more hurt. In doing so, his personality is left far under the surface and unexplored. He only acts to stir up emotions rather than reflect on them, because any pausing to think will only confuse him more. He’s looking ahead, looking at the light, holding onto everything good he has with all the propriety of a 13/14-year-old who has a heart bigger than his head.

Simply put, Mike is a bit of an anti-hero this season. And I think that it's because of this that he starts to get most controversial for the audience.

I’m clearly a Mike apologist, but I genuinely don’t think that he’s out to hurt anyone when he argues with others this season. He’s just stubborn and loud about it, which can definitely be to his fault at times. But in the end, when it comes down to who he loves, I think that season 3 is the era of change, and that ending scene with Hopper’s letter paints the perfect setup for the next seasons to reveal that Mike has a lot more going on under the surface that’s causing all of this. Maybe some regrets, things he wishes he could “turn back the clock” on, regarding, say, Will and El and how he treats them platonically and romantically? Just a thought.

The question of the day for Mike in season 3 stands: is he being selfish or selfless? And I think that it’s a mix of both, blended in with some heavy confusion due to role changing (not needing to protect El) and uncertain affections (not knowing how to figure out what he has with Will).

So, yeah. All in all, I think that Mike is really closeted in season 3 and doesn’t realize it until the final episode, and I honestly love him for it. As someone who’s gone through similar hurdles of internalized homophobia as a teen, it’s really heartwarming to see him grow and figure things out, even if the journey is far from perfect. It’s a humble origin story. And if he somehow ends up being straight and Byler isn’t endgame, well. I’ll be upset at the writers, but the impact still stands.

[gooselycharm]

hi there! i'd just like to say that your kris and noelle "something else" comic has been driving me insane /pos and i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on those two!! their relationship is one of my favorite things in deltarune and your comic just got everything about them so right 🙏

thank you for reading "something else"! oh man, [more of] my thoughts on kris+noelle.... i sure got some of those.

this was one of the first tweets i made after finishing chapter 2 nearly... freaking 2 years ago. and basically i've just been saying that over and over again in different ways because i'm still not tired of the concept yet and probably wont ever be LOL. i'm obsessed with how badly the narrative wants to force them into an easily categorizable dynamic, especially the romantic one in snowgrave. the literal THORN RING, the more possessive dialogue options, spamton calling noelle a side chick LOL... it all creates this unnerving visual novel bad end atmosphere that feels manufactured by someone who's only ever learned about romance through secondhand sources. they're two queer teens trying to navigate their changing relationship with the only role models they know being their parents' own failed heterosexual marriages. they're so divorced² (divorced children of divorce).

i also like that for being so tragically doomed coded they can be funny! both in a dark humor way and also like, genuinely funny, like the stories of them as kids with kris covering themselves in ketchup and hiding under noelle's bed lmao. i mean there's even something funny about the romantic trappings of the snowgrave route, like trying to put wedding cake embellishments on a crime scene... you know, funny like kids trying on their parents clothes but they're too big and for some reason they're also crying and covered in blood? um.

i'm also SOOOO interested to see how snowgrave will continue in chapter 3! i really liked the hopeful note chapter 2 ended on (well. i took it as hopeful anyway). there's that bit where noelle is talking to herself and she says something like "recently kris has been acting so strange and no one else has noticed... i have to figure out why" and then kris jumpscares her LOL but i think i took that one line and really ran with it. noelle really is the one who knows kris best and despite how scared she is, she's still determined to help them... i like the little subversion of victim/hero going on, the implication that kris might be the one who needs rescuing.

the additional story/lore that came with the spamton sweepstakes made me CRAAAZYYYYY like my GOD... it's cute that noelle likes glitches/creepypasta when kris is kinda a walking creepypasta <3 also, god, noelle falling asleep listening to kris playing piano in the other room... there's so much like. wistfulness and nostalgia and this like... distant/detached intimacy packed into how noelle narrates that scene. it's kind of funny how much there is to dig into when like on a surface level they're just fairly regular childhood friends who grew apart LMAO they're extremely deep to me okay...

on another note i guess i do ship them? i like their dynamic whether it's platonic or romantic (the best is a weird mix of both 👍). it just can't be boring LOL like... this is one ship where trying to apply cookie cutter tropes to them really falls flat and the game is ahead of you on that anyway. in terms of romantically shipping them, i honestly don't think they're doomed to repeat patterns forever... i think they could actually be good for each other! but that's not really the aspect of their relationship that interests me akldjf;alk;sdg maybe i will make 60 page comic of kriselle going to couples counseling some other time

ANYWAY i'm going to cut myself off here, because i really could go on forever lol. i'll give you some links for further reading though

hellspawnmotel's deltarune art

lula pillowbug99's deltarune art

this art by raspbearis which features prominently in my internal kriselle bible

my own unfinished kriselle playlist

my own essay on gender & allegory in deltarune if for some reason u are not tired of hearing me talk yet

okay bye now & thanks again for reading my comic!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tossawary]

I'm letting the 1984 "Dune" film play in the background and there's a LOT to say about this beautifully campy ridiculousness, but the part that's really getting me is the "inner voices". The audience at times hears the internal thoughts of various characters, presumably taken largely from the book, in a whispery voice. And it's not even just from Paul! It's from his mother and father and other characters as well, each making various observations and sometimes delivering exposition via their thoughts shared in voiceover narration.

Character A: "Greetings, Character B."

Character B: "A pleasure, Character A."

Character A: (inner voice) "That special outfit indicates that this person is secretly working for our enemies."

I made this exchange up, but that's the vibe here and it's wild. It's shockingly frequent too! Directly sharing character thoughts like this is something I'm used to seeing only in older novels, comics, and anime, due to the strengths and limits of their mediums. Like, the last thing that I was watching with any "tell, don't show" device similar to this was probably "Jojo's Bizarre Adventure"! It's striking (not a compliment) when other live action film (including the most recent "Dune" films) tends to prefer using actors' expressions and body language to communicate certain "unspoken" ideas like suspicion or affection or awe, and to let other sweeping visuals and musical cues speak for themselves as well.

You can also just have the lights go out, zoom in on a character's face, and have them whisper aloud, "Sabotage!" if you need to be that blunt about it, rather than have us hear the character's thoughts directly. You can insert a conversation of "as you know" technobabble between characters if you really have to do hasty exposition.

I don't want to call this film style "bad" exactly, inherently. But it's more than a little confusing when some characters are a little telepathic(?) and lighting is dim, so I'm briefly unsure which characters actually heard certain lines.

And I do personally think this kind of heavy-handed bluntness generally undermines what can be achieved with acting, sound design, music, set design, prop design, costume design, and so on. And I also think that a degree of uncertainty for the audience can be good for tension anyway. These inner thoughts being shared in this film are generally not ideas that couldn't be communicated through acting, visuals, or direct dialogue between characters, so this choice by the film often feels redundant and clumsy to me. Let the actors do what they're good at! Good actors can often communicate their emotions and thoughts to us without words! Or they can at least stand there while a majestic musical score communicates to us the depths of the character's grief and determination.

Like, not every use of voiceover narration in film is a bad thing. It's a choice. Sometimes it works really well and sometimes it doesn't. Voiceover narration often gets used at the beginning of films because it's an efficient way to quickly convey a lot of exposition and set the tone of the story!

But this film seems like it has a bad case of "science fiction is obviously too confusing for movie audiences to follow just by watching the characters move through the world and interact with each other, so we had better hold their hand every step of the way via voiceover narration constantly overshadowing the acting and musical score". It's not really helping the story, in my opinion. It's not letting the film breathe. Though "showing" in storytelling is often preferable, "telling" in a story is not always bad, but damn, this is a LOT of "telling" for an audio-visual medium.

[cbrownjc]

As an older fan, I’m starting to get some major Sherlock-vibes from the show, in the sense that fans are coming up with all these big-brained theories to explain weak writing that we have to have faith will come to fruition in some future season. Why make the change to Lestat saving Louis? Why is Louis seemingly stronger than Armand?  Why have the Loustat reunion, only for Louis to leave and challenge the entire vampire world (despite the fact that he’s apparently in a better place mentally-speaking)? Why publish under Daniel’s name, when that would clearly paint a target on his back, especially now that he’s a vampire? What’s going on with Daniel’s eyes?

The whole “spite” thing seems like a clear mis-direct, but with only like 8-ish episodes a season and Dubai-era Devil’s Minion being 100% subtext so far, I don’t think the writing team can do DM justice. All the inconsistencies seem like they’re being written off because it’s the unreliable narrator show, when they’re actually just plot holes.

Like…I 100% think the writing team forgot makers can’t telepathically talk to their fledglings, and that’s why they had to add in the throwaway line of Lestat actually whispering to Louis in 1x02. There was no hidden reason we were meant to find, it was just inconsistent internal logic justified because Louis can’t remember anything correctly.

IDK. I don’t want to be a downer, but a lot of my hype for the show just kinda fizzled out with the finale. I'm still gonna watch S3, but I think I'm just gonna wait til the whole thing comes out this time.

Hi!

So I never watched Sherlock nor was every in that fandom, though I did hear about some things after the fact. So I can't compare it to that fandom. But I can compare things to another book series that was being adapted fandom I was in which was Game of Thrones. And I think wrt things we are at least nowhere near that level of things and theorising. Yet.

Maybe because, unlike ASOIAF all the VC books are written and done. So that's a plus.

And see, the thing is? I can actually see a lot of methods to the madness of some of the things you've listed. Especially given the nature of how the story in the show is told through POVs. Where the issue comes into it is not ever knowing if what you are seeing is true, false, or just an interpretation of the truth -- as in Louis' POV of the play-trial rehearsal.

And I'd really like to know if how they ended this season is how they plan to end every season when a full book has been adapted? Something that wraps up the main character arc and story, but just leaves a host of other questions that, if we weren't getting a Season 3, would have never been answered. And who knows if they will all be answered in Season 3? As far as Devil's Minion goes, or Armand himself, I'm not expecting it to be now, given that Season 3 is The Vampire Lestat adaptation and Armand is a straight-up villain/antagonist in that book and Daniel doesn't appear in it at all, so anything we get with him will be extra anyway.

Now, as to whether Rolin Jones and the writers have a plan, Rolin says he pitched an 8-Season (or so) Arc to AMC before he was given the show to run. So at the moment? That is the only solid thing we have to go on right now wrt if there actually IS a play or not for the show.

But see (and oh boy, please forgive me as am I about to go into a big digression here), plotting a TV show is much harder to do than a book or a movie. TV writing is way more organic given that unforeseen circumstances can occur that you've never planned for when you go into a new season of TV production. Such as the studio asking you to split the first book you're adapting into 2 seasons instead of one, leaving you with only a month to rewrite the scripts. Or, a writer's strike and then an actors' strike a few weeks later, delaying production for months. Both of which happened to IWTV wrt Season 1 and then Season 2.

So organic things beyond the show's control are why it is much harder to plan out every little detail of a TV show in advance over multiple seasons. Take another AMC show, Breaking Bad. It's known that Season 2 of that show was intricately plotted out in advance but then, after that, the writers plotted and wrote the rest of the show as things came along for the remaining seasons, with no grand design to it -- even though the creator of the show, Vince Gilligan, knew way in advance how the show was going to end. And the show was able to get there, to that ending, without having a meticulous plan over seasons on how to do so.

I mean, the character of Jesse on Breaking Bad was originally supposed to die at the end of the first season. But instead, he lived through the whole damn thing. That was not planned at all.

And I think that might very well be the situation we have going here wrt IWTV. I think there are larger things they already know in advance about the show -- which books out of all of them will adapted into full stories vs which will only get references. Which characters in the show will make it into the show as full characters vs which characters will either be cut or combined with other existing characters (as Sam Ried revealed in his interview with Autumn Brown that that is going to happen -- that some characters will be combined with others). And what end point they want each of the main four characters -- Louis, Lestat, Armadn, and Daniel -- to be at when they get to at least Season 8. (If not Season 10, which is what AMC wants, 10 seasons). I think those are things Rolin and the writers very much know.

But I don't think the show has every single little detail plotted out for every little thing wrt how they are going to get to certain things. Not super far in advance at any rate.

I do think they'll purposefully put in seeds for later -- that they very much know they are going to need later -- though I think at most they do it one season ahead if it's a little thing. I very much do think that is what the things from episodes 1x02 and 1x03 very much were, since Season 1 and 2 were supposed to just be one season originally. Or the fight in 1x05 only being shown from Claudia's POV. I think that was also deliberate and they are very much planning on visiting it once again in Season 3, as they did in Season 2.

But I also think there are some things the show has not plotted way in advance and only figured out when they are writing that particular episode. Or maybe just decided to do that season as they were writing it, and not before then. Just like how almost every other TV show works, even ones that might very well know the ending they are working toward.

So I in no way think the show has figured and plotted out every single moment and beat of Armand and Daniel's relationship. Why? Not only because much of it happened in the past -- which yes I very much still think it did -- which covers 12 years of time, but because if you look at this clip, Rolin Jones kind of hints that they haven't plotted it out completely point for point even though there are some things they've thought and figured out:

video credit: Rei Gorrei on Twitter

So as far as Devil's Minion goes, I think Rolin and Co -- mostly Rolin -- has an endpoint for it in mind. But how they get to that endpoint is probably not planned out to the letter, super far in advance. And something they very likely just come up with as they are writing that particular season. At most? I'd say they've put things in this season that will be relevant next season and that's it.

So, I'm not going to say they can't do it justice. Not yet. I frankly don't have enough data to call that in a yes or no fashion since we haven't seen anything adapted from it aside from the 3-4 days Daniel spent in a cage, which is just the very start of how Devil's Minion begins. Basically one or two paragraphs. That's all they've really adapted when it comes to it at the moment.

And hey, it's okay if you feel down about all of this. If it helps, I'd say try and take a pragmatic approach to the show season by season, and if you feel it's better to binge it than watch it episode by episode for a time, that's good too. This is going to be a long journey after all.

[signoraviolettavalery]

Recap of the Damon Baker event/meet-and-greet (surprised no one's posted about this yet!)

So this was a launch of Damon's new perfume, and it involved a brief Q&A with him in front of an audience in an auditorium tucked away in Harrod's (which is a maze), where they served mocktails and the most delicious chocolate I've ever had.

After the Q&A, everybody who came got a brief meet-and-greet with Damon, where he'd also take your photo and do a selfie with you. There was also a chance to buy his perfume (you got a 20 pound discount for getting the ticket to the event), and do note that the 'regular' perfume costs the same as the exclusive version that comes with a notebook that includes some of Damon's photos and writing in his "handwriting." And, if you bought the perfume, he would also happily sign anything you wanted.

He is more beautiful in person. I know it's hard to believe because photos of him are stunning, but. He's more beautiful in person. I can't even. I was in the front row and I almost gasped.

He talked about the origin of the perfume - how when he lived in LA, he had bad anxiety, and when he was doing photoshoots he'd get overwhelmed, and a friend would rub oil on him, and the scent calmed him. That's where the idea for this came from, and he still sometimes sprays a scent on a journal when he's journaling. So the idea is, you can spray this perfume on anything, journals, yourself, etc. wherever you want the scent.

Since it's supposed to be calming/soothing, he put a lot of scents that reminded him of his childhood, such as rhubarb.

The first scent that he ever really noticed and fell in love with is.....leather. (He seemed to think this would be obvious and we would guess this)

Have y'all seen pics of what he looked like. He was stunning. Three-piece striped suit without a white shirt under it and black and white nails, all monochrome like his perfume. And boots with heels! (I am, as usual, so much shorter than him)

When it was my turn, he came up to say hello. he calls everybody "love" and is so sweet. I told him how much I loved his photos and how much everybody's waiting meant to me. He also mentioned he loves hearing the boys speak slovenian and thinks it sounds so beautiful. I said "I agree, tell them to write more songs in Slovenian" and he said "I will."

After we connected over Everybody's Waiting, he put it on during my photoshoot! He's so, so calming and soothing, I have no words to describe it. He tells you to close your eyes, breathe in, breathe ou, and open your eyes and look at the camera when you're ready. I've never felt more comfortable or secure in front of the camera than I did then. I absolutely understand how he does his magic and gets photos like that. He just makes you feel so safe.

He gave me a hug after, after asking if he could (what a gentleman!!)

We also did a selfie (he asked if he could put his arm around me!) and, since his vest didn't have a shirt under it, apologized for flashing a nipple while he put his arm around me. (me, internally: it's okay I've seen a lot of Bojan tits I'm unfazed)

there is also a photo booth in Harrod's where you can take some photos that it'll print out for you; when you start it, there's a little video damon narrates to tell you to relax and breathe in/out and look at the camera and ahhhhhhh I did that on my last day and he's so perfect