#I know I almost never say anything but yeah I’m still on that server :’)

[lulu2992]

Happy 10th Anniversary, Child of Light!

To celebrate, here’s a never-before-posted portrait of Aurora, the protagonist, that I drew in 2016 when I was learning how to use my tablet :)

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 7

My Heart's in the Highlands

Summary: You speak with your kid and establish a new normal. A conversation is had with Johnny. Words: 2.6k TWs: mention of miscarriage

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

The drive home was silent. Your mind was a mess but you tried to slow down your racing thoughts and put your parent head on. It was so hard right now to be a parent when you felt like an out of control child. You tried to run through a script in your mind, a way to explain what was going on to Joey without bringing your own bitterness into it. 

The kid in question seemed no more willing to have the conversation than you were. He was staring out the window. He seemed exhausted. You could understand that, the emotional gauntlet he had been going through with his parents not even there to help… God you felt awful. 

“...let’s get the mega-ultra sundae” you decided, indicating to turn off towards the ice-cream parlour.

“That’s for like 20 people. Luna from school said her brothers tried to eat it all and they threw up.”

“How many brothers does she have again?”

“Four. One of them does football at uni, two are on the high school team and the last one just won a boxing competition.”

“Well I guess we’re about to embarrass Luna’s brothers.”

You glanced over to him and he looked to you, both with tentative smiles. This was still your kid, you were still his mother, and you were going to eat enough ice-cream that you’d both spend the evening curled up on the sofa feeling sick and watching bad movies. You didn’t know how you ever got so lucky. You could strangle both of his dads, but you could never not appreciate the hand they had in this brilliant boy. 

While you immediately knew the mega-ultra sundae was a mistake when the server struggled to put it on the table due to the weight, you both grinned anyway. The first few spoonfuls you just took the time to think about what to say. 

“Did you really think he was dead?” Joe asked, carefully digging for marshmallows.

“We both did, me and your dad. I think… I think uncle John might have known he wasn’t and I’m very angry with him over it” you answered, aiming for complete honesty. 

“Was the stuff you said about him true?”

You thought on that while you took a mouthful of what you had thought was mostly ice cream but was almost 100% whipped cream. You had told Joe all about Johnny even if you lied about just what he was to him. You had told him how brave he was, how loving. How when he got really excited you and Simon could barely understand half the words that came out of his mouth. You’d told him about his temper, how he would explode and then after need to nap it off before profusely apologising. And God was he clever even if he seemed like a big dumb idiot sometimes. He could make an explosive out of anything and on New Years he usually did. 

“Yeah. We never lied about the kind of man he was, just… it felt scary to tell you he was your father. We should have told you. We shouldn’t have hidden it because we were scared about what you might think.”

“What would I think?”

You could still hear Johnny yelling in your head. You were afraid Joe would think what he did, that you loving Simon even when you thought he was dead was a betrayal. Although now you knew that you had been betrayed it felt like such a stupid fear.

“I didn’t want you to think of your dad differently because he wasn’t your birth father. And I… for some people me falling in love with Johnny’s best friend after he died was wrong. I just didn’t want you to think that.”

Joey thought on that for a while as he kept working on the sundae which didn’t seem like it had decreased in volume at all. You hated putting all of this on a 9 year old. He should be telling you all about the football game and explaining again how he could build a computer in Minecraft, not considering how he felt about finding out a war hero whose death was faked by the military was his father. God you hoped Kyle hadn’t known.

“I think it’s ok” he said eventually as he chewed through a chunk of meringue. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool that I have another dad. Does he always sound like that? Did he really take on a whole town of bad guys and win with dad?”

You shoved another spoonful in your mouth even though you were feeling a little nauseous because if you didn’t try and distract yourself with something you’d cry. He was supposed to yell at you, he was supposed to be mad and turn off his hearing aids so he couldn’t listen to your apologies. But that wasn’t the kid you and Simon had raised. Yeah he could get angry, but he was so good at cooling off and moving on and fixing the issue. 

So you told him all about Johnny but this time in present tense, you both gave the mega-ultra sundae your best shot and then you ran to the bathroom as soon as you got home to throw up which your kid did not let you live down as you watched a bunch of superhero movies. 

–

You didn’t think anyone but you three could pull it off, but somehow life went on. Simon and Johnny arranged a meeting with you and it was decided who would do what. School runs were completely off your plate, they’d share that between them and it seemed like a good way to have J be able to get to know his biological father in small, casual chunks. 

You did offer to let them stay in the guest room, but Simon could read you well enough to know that right now you really did not want to be around them and you were offering for the sake of keeping the peace, so he said no. He was staying in an airbnb nearby and Johnny to your surprise outright bought himself a flat the second week. Not really your business, but part of you felt your heart break that he had just accepted so quickly that you’d be separate for the rest of your lives. 

You never asked about what was going on with the two of them. Maybe it was cowardly, but you didn’t want to know. If they were together, then it would feel like you were always just the second choice and now they would be happy without you. If they weren’t, then it would feel like they were only holding back out of their love and respect for you which was no doubt making them miserable. Did you want them to be miserable? You didn’t know, the answer changed depending on the time of day.

You’d had a dream this morning of the two of them together, had woken up wet and needy and had let your hand wander between your legs to finish yourself off to the fantasy of it. Afterwards you promptly threw up and spent the rest of the day in bed feeling awful until J got back from football practice. Johnny had taken him and they were laughing together. He had taken one look at you and invited himself in, saying he’d order take away and get Joe to bed after dinner so you should just relax. You felt too ill and exhausted to really argue.

Joe was in bed and you were tidying away the leftovers when Johnny came back downstairs into the kitchen. It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. 

“Sorry, you used tae love cashews” he said.

“I still do. The place is usually really good as well, just really couldn’t stomach them today” you replied, frowning at the container as you put it away because it really had been sort of gross but Joey had tried some and said he’d eat the leftovers. 

“I can go grab something from the shops if ye want? Ye didnae eat an awful lot.”

You closed the fridge and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“..I’m naw Senga’ing!” he protested, knowing that raised eyebrow well.

“You’re Senga’ing a little.”

“Naw I’m not!”

“I dunno Johnny, if it worries like a Senga and fusses like a Senga…”

He threw a tea towel at you and you laughed. Senga was your old neighbour's very moody hen who treated the two of you like unruly chicks whenever you were out the back garden. It was sort of comforting to know the old Johnny from nearly a decade ago was still here, but bittersweet that he wasn’t yours anymore. 

“I…” you started, but trailed off because you didn’t know what you wanted to say.

You had spent weeks with the anger at finding out what had happened being difficult to predict. Sometimes you felt it so intensely, sometimes it faded away. It was all so long ago now. You were a different person. You all were. 

“I shouldnae have… well let’s be honest there’s a hunner things I shouldnae have done, but just going for recently I shouldnae ever have tried tae say it was wrong of ye to marry Simon. Especially naw when I knew myself that he…” he trailed off.

“That he’s easy to fall in love with” you finished for him, hearing almost a tone of commiseration in your voice. 

“Is easy the word?”

“Fair enough. I hated him at the start. Considered breaking things off with you more than once just so I didn’t have to be around him anymore.”

“I broke two of my fingers trying tae break his nose the first month on the task force.”

You gave a dramatic gasp and pointed accusingly at him. 

“And you never told me?! How did I not know this?”

“Cause it’s a pure riddy. Tried tae punch him with his mask on and he didnae feel a fucking thing. Didnae even try get me intae trouble for it either, just ordered me tae go to medical like a pure dick.”

You could imagine how mad that would have made Johnny and you could absolutely imagine how smug Simon would have been about the whole thing. One regret you had was the times you avoided going out with Johnny’s friends because you sort of wished now you had seen them together more. At the time you were young and so sure that Simon Riley was just a misogynistic tosser that you avoided him and you knew now you had probably missed out on so much. Maybe you’d have noticed how they felt about one another had you given him a chance. 

“I wanted to strangle him so much at the start. No clue how it turned into what it did. He didn’t even propose with a ring, just asked if I wanted to get married in the kitchen on a whim.”

Johnny looked horrified on your behalf.

“Absolute roaster! How in the fuck did both of us fall for such a wanker?”

The two of you took a beat to decide how you felt about this all being out in the open and then laughed together until you cried. God it was nice to just laugh about it. You’d never get over what the two of them did a decade ago, not really, but you didn’t want it to turn you bitter. You didn’t want to forget all the good things. And you wanted them both in Joseph’s life, you wanted him to get all of the love and support you knew these men were capable of. 

You wiped away a tear and sighed, leaning on the counter and looking at Johnny with a sort of sad smile. 

“I wish you had just told me how you felt about him. It’s not that you fell in love with him that hurt, it was that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

Fuck, you guessed you knew how Joe felt now. Too scared to tell him the truth because you had imagined the worst of his reaction. 

“I was a shite husband. Naw even just what happened with Si, but all of it. Should never have taken that job without talking tae ye first. All well and good saying it was for your protection, but I should have trusted that ye wouldnae have told anyone, that ye’d have done your part if ye’d agreed tae it. Should never have taken that choice off of you.”

“Why the change of heart now?”

“Guess I’ve done some growing up. Over the last 9 years it’s naw been the soldiers that have been saving the world most of the time, it’s been the civilians. I used tae think I was some big hero just because I wore the uniform, but I was just being an arrogant prick. I hate that I treated ye like ye were less capable of making decisions because ye didnae have a set of fucking epaulettes. Never really deserved ye.”

“I’m sorry that you took it all on yourself. It must have been awful being alone all this time in enemy territory. Look, I’m pissed that you took the job, Price has been laying low because he knows I’m going to boot him in the balls next time I see him, but I know you did it to help people. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I never told you about… about that night with Simon.”

“I’m so so fucking sorry ye went through that bonnie, I cannae imagine” he said, and you knew he was sincere with the moisture gathering in his eyes. 

It was an old wound for you now, but this was new for him you realised. He hadn’t know until a few weeks ago that Joey may have had an older sibling. Remembering how painful it had been back then before time had healed you, you felt the sudden urge to hug him knowing there was a good chance this was still so raw for him. So you did.

He held you tight and buried his face in your hair like he used to. He smelled almost the same, although there was something a little less wild about him now. How long had it been since he had just been held? 9 years on mission, 9 years of the world on his shoulders. Fuck you almost wished Simon had known, then at least he would have had him to come back to without the complication of the lie between them. 

You stayed like that for a while, just clinging to one another in the kitchen. God you had missed him so damn much. You were just so angry that he had been alive all this time. So much time wasted. So many choices that could have changed things. If he had told you back then how he felt about Simon, what would you have done? If you had told him about the miscarriage, would it have changed things? But it was too late for any of that now. 

So when you broke apart and you took a breath to ask if he’d like to stay over, he beat you to it and said he’d best get going. Probably for the best.

“Why did you buy the place anyway? I thought you hated it down here, heart in the highlands and all that.”

“My heart’s in the highlands, but the highlands was never really about the place, it was about the person there in it with me. But the flat’s also close tae the uni Joe said he wants tae go to. I ken that he’s only little now so he might change his mind, but I wanted it tae be there for him just incase and it’s naw like I cannae buy another place for him if he goes somewhere else.”

You shoved him out of the door before you could go against your own best interests and kiss him.

[gtwscratch]

Go Home

Summary: Tango and Jimmy are the first ones out in Double Life. They talk for a bit, and Tango says some things he’s going to regret.

This is inspired by @cramblm! She made a comic a while back about these two, and I was (FINALLY) motivated to write something again :D 

This is also part one of a two-part little story!! I’m not sure when part two will be up, but yeah! If you like this one, I hope you guys look forward to the next part!

CW: Team Ranchers angst, that’s about it

Word count: 1,203 words

[Part 1] [Part 2]

===============================

Tango looks down at the server, floating above everything. He idly rubs his arm. He can almost still feel the phantom pains of the enderman ripping into Jimmy, and by association, himself.

Huh. So this is what it’s like.

It’s oddly peaceful. Obviously there's still chaos going on below him as the last of the server’s peace crumbles away, but this was… different. Tango had died before in these games of course, but never first. It’s weirdly calm. And lonely.

Tango then hears the sound of rustling fabric, and his heart aches. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is—no one else has perma-died yet. Tango doesn’t want to look; so, he stares forward. They float in silence for several minutes before Jimmy breaks the silence.

“Tango,” the half-avian starts, “I’m.. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“You’re still here.” It’s less of a question and more of a statement.

Jimmy glances away and fiddles with the necklace he’s wearing. It matches the one Tango wears, given to him by Jimmy after the first session. “... Well, yeah. I.. I don’t want.. I, uh, didn’t-” 

Tango cuts him off, his tone coming out harsher than he had intended. “Why are you still here?”

“.. I could ask you the same thing,” he responds quietly after a moment’s hesitation. He looks out at the server and then reaches for Tango’s hand. “C’mon, it’s rough to watch at the start sometimes, we should-”

Tango snatches his hand back, keeping it close to his chest. “We should what, Jimmy? We can’t do anything. We’re dead.”

“We can at least go somewhere that won’t see so much bloodshed.” Despite the tone Tango is taking with him, Jimmy’s own voice remains soft and patient. “We can go back to the ranch.” He sounds a little hopeful. Tango ignores it.

“And then what? Just wait around and welcome everyone as they die? Pretend that everything is fine and that we haven’t just come in dead last?” Tango’s tail flicks angrily back and forth, and the flames in his hair burn a little brighter. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Tango isn’t upset about coming in last. He’s never come close to winning before, and it’s never bothered him all that much. He doesn’t understand why he’s so angry all of a sudden. The blaze-hybrid hasn’t once looked away from the soon-to-be-destroyed landscape. He hasn’t once looked at Jimmy.

Tango releases a heavy sigh. “It’s over, Jimmy.”

They both know Tango is talking about more than just their time in the game.

Tango can almost sense Jimmy tense—can feel the faint panic and hurt spread in his own chest despite their link already being severed and fading. Maybe he just knows Jimmy that well. Maybe Tango doesn’t want to go through with this.

“.. What?? No, Tango, don’t- don’t say that..!” Jimmy raises his voice for the first time. “This isn’t-! I-it can’t be-!”

“It can be, and it is. We don’t know if something like this,” he gestures to the server in front of them, “will ever happen again, and if it does, I don’t see us teaming up again in the future.” What Tango fails to elaborate on is that he doesn’t think he’d be that lucky enough to have Jimmy on his team again.

Jimmy tries to reach for Tango again. “Please, don’t say that. We’re the Ranchers..!”

“NO! We’re not the Ranchers anymore!” Tango finally snaps his head in Jimmy’s direction, the flames in his hair and tail flickering and growing as his emotions do. “‘The Ranchers’ are gone! They were something that the psychos who created these games influenced and forced, and now they’re gone, Jimmy! That wasn't real!” 

But, oh, how he wants this to be real. Somewhere along the way, Tango found himself catching feelings for the half-avian. Despite their situation, he always seemed to be so optimistic and confident. Even when the ranch was burned down and Tango lost it, Jimmy remained (mostly) level-headed and helped get Tango to calm down despite getting burnt by his flames. And yeah, if it had been anyone else he’d accidentally hurt, he would’ve felt bad, but it felt even worse because it was Jimmy. Jimmy, who always found a reason to smile. Jimmy, who always put up with everyone’s crap. Jimmy, who apologized to Tango when they found out they were bound despite Tango being the one to lose their first life and being the reason the two found out they were bound in the first place. Jimmy, who didn’t deserve this kind of fate but received it for a third time now.

Ah, so that’s why he’s angry. Because this cruel, sick game has done nothing but take from and torment this saint of a player.

And maybe that’s why he’d been partnered with Tango. 

Because fire destroys everything it touches, and the expression on Jimmy’s face is proof of that.

Tango quickly looks away. He can’t bear to see the pain and betrayal in Jimmy’s eyes. “Just.. just go home, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s voice wavers with one last attempt. “Tango, please-”

“Go,” his flames flare up once again, and even in death, their temperature rises. Tango’s arms are wrapped tightly around himself now.

Jimmy hesitates for another moment before floating off in the direction of their the ranch, leaving Tango alone like he’d requested. It isn’t until he’s sure that Jimmy’s gone that he slowly lowers to the ground, kneeling in the grass.

He carefully uncrosses his arms and touches the charm on his necklace, a feather carved from iron. It won’t melt with your flames Jimmy had once said, nervously beaming as he handed it over and showed his own charm to Tango (a flame, also carved from iron). Tango exhales shakily, tracing over the ridges on the pendant. He stays there for a long time, just staring at the pendant and desperately wishing that this wasn’t how things had turned out.

Tango doesn’t know how long he’s kneeling there when the second lightning strike sounds, indicating another two members have fallen. He takes a deep breath and hides the pendant beneath his shirt before getting up and floating in the direction of where he heard the lightning strike. Did it come from the Box..? Yeah, that sounds close enough. 

As he makes his way over there, he risks a glance over to the ruined ranch and sees Jimmy sitting at their graves, leaning against Tango’s. Tango looks away quickly, but he stops, hesitating on continuing to the Box. At this point, his anger has subsided and has morphed to guilt and regret. He wants to go to Jimmy and apologize—to tell him he didn’t mean it, but would Jimmy take him back? Would he want to try for something that was genuinely real and not influenced by whoever put them into this mess? What would Tango even say to make up for what he said??

Tango decides to settle on the plan of giving them both some space. He needs to think about how he’s going to apologize, and, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to see Jimmy again so soon. 

So he continues on his way, scared to give Jimmy and the ranch another glance.

===============================

Hope you guys enjoyed :) I worked on this instead of school work haha

[th3-unseen-backup]

03/08/2015 20:12:46 PST

FOOTAGE FROM CAMERA 10/10000 OBSERVA

[A man walks into the clean and stark lobby of Observa Inc., it is devoid of all life aside from a receptionist who is diligently packing away her desk in preparation for the end of her shift. The man approaches her, confused, asking something. The woman doesn’t understand, she gives him a well practiced kind and mild mannered smile built from years of customer service in her attempt to dismiss him. However, something he says to her freezes her face in abject terror as a single tear rolls down and hits an odd button on her desk. The elevator invites him inside.]

>Engage with my own senses.

[The sound of a door being pushed open is heard, the noise of server boxes constantly buzzing]

Guard 1 : (Quietly) If you see it…

Guard 2 : (Quietly) ...it will take you.

[A short moment of silence before slow, quiet footsteps are heard, and the clang of a door closing, the sound echoing down what seems to be a bit of a long hallway. Only footsteps are heard for a moment before a sudden jolt of fabric and the footsteps stop.]

Smith, J. : (Quietly, with some hesitance.) Wh- Hello?

[Nothing but the buzz of the server boxes is heard.]

Smith, J. : (A bit louder.) You aren’t him.

[Footsteps continue, slowly getting closer to the microphone. The footsteps slowly change from walking on a hard floor to walking on something wet and mushy, making the footsteps slowly shift into an irregular pattern. Only the buzzing of the server boxes and footsteps can be heard for a few long moments before the footsteps come to a stop.]

Smith, J. : [A lot closer now.] (With some hesitation and nervousness being heard in his voice.) Magnus… I know. But I can’t.

[The sound of fabric and movement is heard, but otherwise, only silence.]

Smith, J. : (A bit firmer, and a tiny bit fearful.) Magnus, I told you, I need answers. I’m not going back.

[The floor squelches as something picks something up.]

Smith, J. : [He is breathing quite heavily and fast now] (Quiet, restrained panic is heard in a whisper.) W-what the fuck…?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [His breathing slightly calms down. And he is silent for a bit.] (A knowing tone in his voice.) You aren't Arthur, are you?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [He lets out a sigh.] You seem to have Xavier's personality down. [A pause.] How do you know so much about me? How do you know about Xavier and others?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [Another pause.] …I guess. But still, I don't talk about my family back home that much to others.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Almost a humorous tone can be heard in his voice.) We have similar habits. [A pause.] (His tone has returned to a curious but slightly nervous one.) What happens to the people and kindred who come here, and never leave?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (He sounds slightly curious now.) That makes sense.. but aren't you kindred yourself? Feeding off of kindred blood probably isn't the best.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Nervously) I see.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [He hesitates.] (Cautiously) ..What happened to Arthur in London? He's not telling me anything, and I can tell something happened.

[A bit of a longer period of silence.]

Smith, J. : (Shocked and intrigued.) …A-a cure? What do you mean by a cure? Is there a cure for kindred?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Fascinated.) Yeah. [A pause.] (A bit of a playful tone.) I wish I had my notebook to jot this down.

[A long period of silence.]

Smith, J. : (Confused with a hint of fear) I help you?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. (Hesitantly.) You want to… Listen to everything happening around my phone?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Regretful.) …fine.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : For now.

[A very short silent moment.]

Smith, J. : (Cautious.) The kindred outside this place literally told me that if I see you, you will take me. I think I’d prefer not to get taken.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Untrusting.) …I hope I don’t regret this.

>End.

03/08/2015 22:47:15 PST

FOOTAGE FROM CAMERA 628/10000 OBSERVA

[Outside the clean sleek obelisk of a building that defines Observa Inc. stands a man. Grainy and shrouded in darkness, we watch as a silhouetted hand pulls out a phone from his pocket, a notification for a message lighting up the screen. Light by the dim light of his phone, face twists into a frown. He opens the message, types something out, and then turns off his phone as he walks away.]

[catsandgoodbooks]

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

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

Technoblade passed Dream a green mug, filled to the brim with chamomile. Dream took a cautious first sip the second the piglin looked away and tasted the signature sweetness of healing pots. Ah. So it was Phil’s recipe then. He’d been trying to get Dream off potions, and, if that necessitated a different transfer method because potions were still all too necessary, so be it.

“Last night was fine?” Techno asked, rummaging through one of his chests as he spoke.

Dream nodded, even though he knew Techno couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I didn’t have any dreams.” He ignored the nightmares from the night prior, the way that he had woken up a cold sweat and could only count himself lucky that he hadn’t cried out. If they didn’t know about that, then Dream wasn’t going to tell them.

“Nice. Phil asked me to help patch up his roof ‘cause it’s drafty and Niki wants to talk about building her own house up here. She has her whole underground city, and anyone’s allowed to stay there, but she wants to be a bit closer to us. Somewhere to stay when she comes up for the Syndicate meetings,” Techno elaborated. Dream could tell he was rambling but wasn’t going to interrupt him. “Like, Ranboo has–had a place up here too, even though he usually stayed with Tubbo.” Techno shrugged. “We didn’t question it. You don’t question stuff like that.”

“Sounds complicated,” Dream agreed. He really didn’t want to get swept up into the Ranboo relationship drama thingamajig. As far as he knew, and as far as he cared, Ranboo married Tubbo who had been killed by Technoblade, whom Ranboo had also been friends with and maybe Techno had been his mentor? Dream had no idea.

“You don’t say,” Techno responded monotonely without missing a beat. “Hey, you ever think doing that? Building your own house up here? Like, we all know you’re homeless, but you wouldn’t be if do that anymore. Now that I think about it, that would cause a significant decrease in my entertainment and probably cause some people to unsub, but who cares about that? I could make a good thumbnail out of that. A title too. ‘Dream finally gets a house’– Of course, you’d have to move out first–”

The cup almost slipped from Dream’s lax fingers, and he didn’t try to catch it. His breath hitched. So this was it then. This is when Techno told him to leave and never come back. He’d been so absolutely useless even since they’d brought him to the Arctic Commune, and now he was reaping the consequences of that. Techno realized that he was just dead-weight, just there to drag them down, pointless, a liability, not worth the effort to keep around.

Dream being there just put Technoblade and the rest of the Syndicate in danger. The server was going to come for him eventually, and they all knew it. Techno’s reputation could only keep them away for so long.

Dream knew this was coming. He just didn’t expect it to be so subtle, so polite. He didn’t expect to care this much. He didn’t expect to not want to leave. He knew it was the best think he could do, what he had to do, what he needed to do keep the Plan going. For all the sacrifices he made to be worth it. He knew he needed to leave before he was forced out, so that he could leave on his own terms and no one else’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Dream couldn’t hear anything besides his own thoughts. He couldn’t hear a single think that Techno said. He kept thinking, and he only sunk deeper the longer he kept thinking.

Suddenly, Technoblade was there, snapping his fingers under Dream’s nose. “Hey, you there, buddy? It would be really cringe if I broke you out of prison just for you to die on me. If you wanted to do that, you should’ve done it in the first week. Now it’s just weird.”

Dream scowled and leaned away from him. “I’m fine. Just…just thinking.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “Aren’t we all,” he commented. He paused and lowered his voice. “It was something I said, wasn’t it?”

Dream nodded, just a little bit. “I got worried that you were going to kick me out.”

“I’d never do that,” was Techno’s instant response. “Sorry, Teletubby, but that’s not happening. We’re roomies now, and I’m not going to do anything to change that. You can leave if you want, but I’d never make you.”

Dream smiled faintly. It hurt a little. “Thanks. It helps.” The mug, still held loosely between his fingers, helped warm his hands. He was happy he didn’t drop it.

[casiopealistener]

Hobie x reader

JOIN THE DISCORD SERVER : https://discord.gg/Tmk6jfmX

CHAPTER ONE

You were up late, per usual. When you heard a knock on your window, you looked over to see Spider-Punk. He was holding his side, and his mask was a little torn up. It wasn’t unfamiliar for Hobie to do this.

“Alright, let’s get you patched up.”

You said, opening the window as he threw his mask to the ground.

“I’m just peachy. Thanks for asking, you geezer.” He said in a mock-sarcastic tone, with a subtle smile.

“Well, hello there. What is Spider-punk doing there at some random girl’s window?” You were acting clueless and playful, with a teasing smile on your face, knowing how much he hated being called that.

“Well howdy there stranger. Why… might you be a lass?”

He was trying to make a joke, with a grin. Yet, it wasn’t clear if he was joking or not. He often made comments like these, so it was normal for Hobie. Even if that was the case, he was still a charmer.

You just sighed, ignoring his comment, responding instead:

“Just tell me why I should let you in.”

“Who even said I was going to ask? If you think I wouldn’t just bust this window down, I feel like you’d be wrong.”

He said, still grinning and holding his side. He was a punk; he rarely follows rules.

“Oh yea? And if you think I would just let you go in like that without saying anything, I feel like you’d be wrong, Hobie.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve got a smart mouth don’t you?” He said, still holding his side, though with a smirk. “You should use it to make a song or something.”

“Oh, there’s something even better I can use it for.” You said teasingly.

“Oh really? What would that be?”

He asked, still grinning. He always had the perfect one liners for these types of conversations. He’s always been a bit of a flirt.

“I think you know what it is, love. Something you’ll never get from me, even if you dream about it every night.”

”Oh my”… you had him. He was taken aback, but he quickly recovered. “You think so, huh? I’ll prove you wrong then.”

He challenged, smirking at you as he spoke in a confident tone. He was almost always confident in his speech.

“Oh yeah? How is that?”

“I’m just gonna have to show you, aren’t I?” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side. “But if you wanna find out, then I should get inside.”

As he entered through the window, you couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and excitement. Hobie always had a way of stirring up emotions within you. You closed the window behind him and turned to face him, crossing your arms.

“Alright, Spider-Punk, spill it. What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?” you asked, trying to hide the concern in your voice.

Hobie chuckled, wincing slightly as he touched his side. “Just a little scuffle with some baddies, nothing I couldn't handle. But I figured I could use a friendly face and some patching up.”

You walked over to your desk, grabbing the first aid kit and motioning for him to sit on the edge of your bed. “You know, most friends would come through the front door or call instead of climbing through windows,” you remarked, feigning exasperation.

He flashed you a mischievous grin. “Where's the fun in that? Plus, you know I like to keep things dramatic.”

Rolling your eyes, you began tending to his minor wounds. As you worked, the banter continued between you, the familiar playful teasing filling the room.

“So, any plans for the rest of the night, oh elusive Spider-Punk?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

Hobie leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well, now that you mention it, I thought I'd take my favorite girl out for some web-swinging action. Care to join me?”

You scoffed playfully. “Favorite girl? I'm the only girl you know, Hobie.”

He laughed, his eyes meeting yours. “That's true, but it doesn't make it any less special.”

There was a brief moment of silence as you finished patching him up. The air between you seemed to crackle with a mix of tension and unspoken words.

“You know, you began, your voice softer, “I worry about you sometimes. You throw yourself into danger without a second thought.”

Hobie's expression turned serious as he reached out to hold your hand. “I know it may seem reckless, but I do it to make a difference, to protect this city. And having you by my side, even if it's just for a swing through the night, makes it all worthwhile.”

His words touched your heart, and you couldn't help but smile. “Okay, Spider-Punk, I'll go on one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked with yours. “And what's that?”

“You promise me you'll be careful out there. No unnecessary risks,” you said, your voice filled with genuine concern.

Hobie nodded, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “I promise, love. I'll always come back to you in one piece.”

“Good. No web-swinging for me tonight, though.”

His face decomposed upon hearing your response.

“What? Why?”

“I have exams tomorrow. Need to study.”

“Oh, geez, my bad. Completely slipped my mind. Hope I ain't cramping your style too much, love."

“Nah. Just tell me why I should keep you there and not throw you out.”

He thought of something and smiled widely.

“I can cook spaghetti for you!”

You laughed at the suggestion, and warmly responded:

“I think that’s a good idea.”

As Hobie flashed his widest grin, you couldn't help but chuckle at his offer to cook spaghetti. It was a typical Hobie move, always finding a way to bring some charm and humor into any situation.

“Alright, Spider-Punk, you're on,” you replied playfully, leaning against your desk. “But I warn you, it better be the best spaghetti I've ever tasted, or you might find yourself swiftly thrown out.”

Hobie mockingly placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Oh, have faith in me, love. I'm not just any punk; I'm a punk with culinary skills. Prepare to be amazed.”

You both shared a laugh, enjoying the banter that defined your friendship. As Hobie made his way to the kitchen, you followed closely, watching as he rummaged through your cabinets and drawers, gathering the ingredients he needed.

He spun around, holding a box of spaghetti triumphantly. “Ta-da! The main event.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “And what about the sauce? Are you going to charm it into existence?”

Hobie pretended to ponder for a moment, tapping his chin. “Hmm, tempting, but I think I'll settle for the classic marinara sauce. Can't go wrong with that.”

With a flourish, he pulled out a jar of sauce and a skillet, preparing to cook. As he moved around the kitchen, you couldn't help but admire his confidence and his ability to make even the simplest tasks seem entertaining.

While he worked his magic on the stove, you leaned against the counter, watching him intently. The playful banter continued as you exchanged teasing remarks and laughter, each moment deepening the bond between you.

Finally, Hobie presented you with a plate of steaming spaghetti, the aroma wafting through the air. He had even gone the extra mile, garnishing the dish with a sprinkle of grated cheese and fresh basil leaves.

He handed you the plate with a flourish, a proud smile on his face. “Bon appétit, love. Dig in and let me know if it lives up to your expectations.”

Taking a bite, you closed your eyes, savoring the flavors. The taste was surprisingly delicious, the pasta cooked to perfection, and the sauce rich and flavorful. Opening your eyes, you smiled genuinely at Hobie.

“You know what, Spider-Punk? This is actually amazing. You may have just earned yourself a permanent spot in my kitchen.”

Hobie beamed with satisfaction, seemingly delighted by your compliment. “Well, I aim to please. Looks like I've unlocked a hidden talent. Maybe I should open up a Spidey-themed restaurant.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let's not get carried away. But I must admit, your cooking skills are definitely impressive. Who knew beneath that punk exterior, there was a master chef waiting to emerge?”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Just another surprise in the long list of things that make me, well, me. But hey, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's just the beginning of the adventures we're gonna have, love. Spaghetti today, who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

“Well, I hope tomorrow brings a pizza or some really advanced dish. Not that I don’t like your amazing spaghetti. But it’s just… pastas.”

Hobie feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “You wound me, love! Here I am, pouring my heart and culinary skills into making you a fine plate of spaghetti, and all I get is a desire for pizza?”

You couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage, finding his playful antics endearing. “Oh, don't be so dramatic, Hobie. Your spaghetti was amazing. But variety is the spice of life, you know?”

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I see. So you're saying my spaghetti isn't spicy enough for you? I can spice things up, you know. Add some chili flakes, perhaps?”

You playfully nudged his shoulder, trying to contain your laughter. “No, no. That's not what I meant. Your spaghetti was perfect. I just thought we could explore different tastes together, step by step.”

Hobie leaned closer, his voice a low whisper. “Step by step, huh? I like the sound of that. So, what's the next step on our culinary adventure, love? Any requests?”

You pretended to ponder for a moment, enjoying the flirtatious back-and-forth between you. “Hmm, how about a homemade pizza? I hear you're quite the expert at kneading dough.”

Hobie leaned back, a grin spreading across his face. “Ah, a challenge, I see. You've activated my competitive side, love. Get ready to taste the best pizza you've ever had. I'll make sure of it.”

As the evening continued, you found yourselves deep in conversation, sharing stories, and trading playful banter. Time seemed to slip away as you talked and laughed, lost in each other's company. The night grew late, and Hobie glanced at the clock, a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

“I hate to admit it, love, but I should probably head out. I don't want to keep you up too late. Plus, there are more adventures awaiting us tomorrow,” he said, rising from his seat.

You nodded, a tinge of disappointment mingling with the excitement. “Yeah, you're right. We've had quite the evening. Thank you for the amazing dinner, Hobie.”

He walked over to you, a soft smile gracing his lips. “No need to thank me, love. It was my pleasure.”

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat.

“Bye, Spider-punk.”

He chuckled. “Bye love.”

As Hobie made his way towards the window, you watched him go, a flurry of emotions swirling within you.

You decided to stop studying, as it was already really late, and made your way to the bed. It was comfortable, and warm, but it felt like something was missing. Someone was missing…

You fell asleep, dreaming of piercings and guitars. What you didn’t see, was the strange spider on your ceiling, with this strange glow on its legs and alarming fluorescent color. And it was slowly making its way to you. And inevitably, it bit you.

[korereapers]

Title: Watermelon sugar

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: DC/Batman

Pairing: Edward Nygma/Jonathan Crane, scriddler

Tags: Period smut (expect blood and, stuff related to it), PWP, FEELINGS

This was a present for @sexyinaratkindaway, who deserves the whole world <3

Thank you, scriddler server!

AO3

Jonathan’s teeth slightly shine behind his lips, curling in an almost invisible smile that makes Edward shudder.

“Are you sure that-” he starts, his voice hoarse, but as usual, Jonathan is having none of it.

“Feeling self conscious? That’s new.”

They both know it isn’t. Why would Edward take so much care of his image if he weren’t so fixated on it? On the right hair dye, the right shade of contacts. A perfect suit that accentuates his features, shoes so polished they seem to compete against the sun.

Self conscious it is, right.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

His pants are still on, and it’s getting a little uncomfortable, but nothing he cannot handle. Long fingers caress his face, a thumb softly pressing his lower lip.

“Then explain it to me. With words that are proof of that brilliant brain of yours.”

He knows what to say, how to make Edward’s heart flutter. The Riddler can be a master manipulator, but nobody can play with people’s hearts like the Scarecrow. That’s just facts, but he would never admit it out loud.

“I’m bleeding.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow.

“So? A wound? Should a wound stop us?”

Edward groans so deep he hurts his throat.

“I’m on my period, you annoying bastard.”

Jonathan’s smile becomes bigger, and it’s almost imperceptible, but Edward knows him well. He is enjoying this torture.

“So?”

“It's disgusting! I feel disgusting.”

“I fail to see the correlation, Edward.”

He knows Jonathan is trying to piss him off, which he is kind of succeeding at. Edward is indeed kind of mad, unable to stand this man playing dumb in a situation like this.

"I'm on my period… and you want to have sex."

Jonathan's eyes shine in something that Edward has seen before, but that he doesn't fully recognize. It's a hunger that hits him deep, making his legs weak. Jonathan has that effect on him.

"Yeah."

"What about the blood? About the smell? About making a goddamn mess?"

Okay, there is definitely hunger in Jonathan's eyes, his lower lip trembling a little in what Edward recognizes as barely contained desire.

"We can use towels. I don't care about the mess."

"I really don't get-"

"I want you in every way. Is that so hard to believe?"

It really is, but Edward doesn't say anything. A part of him feels tempted to just pretend, to use that big ego he has, to flaunt it to hide his insecurities. Before Jonathan's inquisitive eyes, he cannot do such a thing.

He just kisses him, tensing slightly when Jonathan's fingers play with the zip on his pants, nodding slightly when Jonathan looks at him, granting him a silent permission.

Still, he grimaces a little when Jonathan opens the drawer, taking the towels out, carefully placing them on the sheets. Edward obediently sits on them, Jonathan's smile the best treat. He reclaims it again with his lips, trying to relax. Jonathan is not lying. He really wants him like this.

Nervous fingers caress the skin underneath the clothes, and they both shiver, getting rid of them as quickly as they can. Not enough time to think about what they feel if they just focus on the physical sensation.

Edward feels as if he were an unwrapped Christmas present, layer after layer, until he is bare in front of Jonathan. He makes a face when he looks downwards, his thighs already bloody, but Jonathan's expression is one of pure joy.

"God, Edward… Let me. I want to…"

He licks his lips, and Edward finds himself mimicking the gesture.

"Strange tastes you have…"

Jonathan's smile is a silent promise.

"Oh, you have no idea…"

Edward knows he feels sensitive. He has touched himself while on his period, and it always feels a little bit different. Messier, of course, but also… more intimate.

The way Jonathan kisses his chest, focusing on a racing heartbeat, breath against skin though…

It drives him mad.

Edward has always envied his patience, the way he treats him. Despite how much he clearly wants to eat him out, to be inside of him, he still takes his sweet time to make sure Edward knows how much he likes him.

As if he could forget. Sentimental old man…

“Your heartbeat is getting faster,” Jonathan notes, matter-of-factly. Edward groans, his fingers tangling themselves in Jonathan’s dark, greasy hair.

“And whose fault is it?”

Jonathan doesn’t answer, his gaze focused on Edward’s body. The towel is already stained, that much Edward knows, but Jonathan seems to think nothing disgusting at the sight of it. Quite the opposite.

“I’m dying to…”

“Fuck, just do it then.”

Jonathan’s smile would be creepy to anyone else, but Edward knows him best. He whispers a small curse when Jonathan’s breath caresses his groin, even more when he murmurs a praise that Edward is too overwhelmed to process.

Edward pushes him a little, without thinking, only to make him shut up, only not to think about the whole matter. The warmth gets hot, thin lips against his cock, kissing him softly, a warm tongue circling him when he forgets how to breathe. He moans, his voice hoarse, one of his feet moving unconsciously, his muscles tensing.

“Sensitive…” Jonathan mutters, but he doesn’t stop. Edward’s hand shakes against his nape, Jonathan’s tongue tasting him like the sweetest delicacy. Drinking from every sound he makes, his face a bloody mess. He smiles when Edward looks at him, and his teeth are dirty, but it’s not disgust what pools inside of Edward’s groin.

He giggles softly, the gesture interrupted by a moan when Jonathan does a particularly nice motion with his tongue, taking him by surprise.

“Do that again,” Jonathan whispers against his inner thigh, licking it tenderly afterwards. “I love your laugh.”

Edward swears his soul is leaving his body, Jonathan’s mouth going back to him. It all becomes blurry after a little while, because Jonathan, bless his dark and rotten soul, keeps sucking on him like that, smiling against him from time to time, only stopping to breathe for a couple of seconds.

Something escapes Edward’s lips. Maybe a word, a plea. Maybe it’s just a whimper that barely resembles something coherent. A warning that Jonathan ignores, lost in the pleasure of his flesh and blood.

He doesn’t stop even when Edward spasms, a deep sound leaving his throat, so utterly surprised by the strength of his orgasm that he cannot even pronounce Jonathan’s name. They both know he tries, though.

The towels are probably a mess under them, but Edward forgets to care about it for a blissful moment. He does notice how Jonathan licks his lips, feverishly getting closer, probably to kiss him, but Edward stops him just in time.

“Clean… clean yourself first.”

“And then?”

“And then… I want you inside.”

And God, Jonathan smiles like a fool in love, blood around his mouth, like a messy kid after eating his favorite cake. Edward laughs breathlessly, and he can see Jonathan physically restraining himself from kissing him.

Later, though. Later there will be all the kissing he wants.

[made-ofmemories]

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 5/17)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Nothing way too detailed but there is some talk of shitty parents, past childhood traumas and parental death, Billy’s abuse is also mentioned in this chapter 

Word count: 2559

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: A lot of the stuff about Billy and Max in this chapter directly references or was heavily inspired by the book ‘Runaway Max’

Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series Masterlist

——-

Max is in a bad mood and has been since the first period of the day, English with Mrs. Ross. By the time the bell rings at 3 pm and she’s stomping out of the building to where Eddie is waiting for her, she's long past hiding it. She spots the van across the parking lot. Eddie seems revved up, as usual, his hands on the steering wheel are drumming along to whatever song is playing on the stereo and he’s banging his head back and forth to the rhythm of it.

The entire vehicle shakes when she slams the van door behind her. Eddie flinches at the sudden noise and she feels a little guilty for startling him. He must pick up on her mood pretty quickly because he doesn’t make a remark about it like she would expect from him any other time.

“How was school?” He asks tentatively as they’re leaving the parking lot.

“Fine.” She grumbles. She really isn’t in the mood for small talk, she can feel a headache coming on and to make matters worse Eddie just had to be playing that song, “Can you turn this off?” She snaps, maybe a little too harshly.

“Uh- sure.” He sounds confused and Max can’t blame him. Usually, she loves anything by Metallica, just last week she had been shouting along to the lyrics of the very same song with him. Right now though, all it’s doing is dragging up memories she’d really rather not deal with.

He turns off the stereo and they travel in silence until Eddie stops somewhere that very much isn’t the trailer park. Max had been too caught up in her own head to even realize they had been driving the completely wrong way for the past 5 minutes.

“What are we doing here? I just want to go home.”

“I’m hungry, aren’t you hungry?”

“No. Eddie. Please can we just go, I have… homework.” It’s a lame excuse, unconvincing even to her own ears.

“It’s Friday, you have the whole weekend to do homework. Come on.” He’s hopping out of the van and heading towards the diner they’re parked in front of before she can get another word in.

She groans, throwing her head back against the seat. He’s impossible sometimes. She weighs up her options, she can either stay here in this freezing cold rust bucket of a van which is only going to get colder or she can go along with whatever the hell this is.

“This is technically kidnapping of a minor you know.” She complains when she catches up to him.

“Yeah yeah, add it to the list.”

She waits close to the entrance while Eddie orders to go. She’s skated past the building several times before, but it’s the first time she’s ever been inside. There are a few servers bustling around and one or two customers but overall it’s not too busy. Some old 60’s pop song is playing quietly on the jukebox.

Max insists that she doesn’t want anything. Eddie orders her a hot cocoa anyway and despite her grumbling, she has to admit that the warmth of the hot drink is appreciated. She takes a sip of it once they’re back in the van, it’s good.

“There used to be a place just like this near where I grew up.” Eddie says breaking the silence they’ve once again fallen into, “My mom used to take me there when I had a bad day and we’d eat ice cream and drink milkshakes until we both felt sick.”

He looks sad despite the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a bittersweet memory Max thinks.

“She sounds nice.”

“She was. Things got hard, near the end, but sometimes she’d have a good week, manage to stay clean for a few days and I’d get my mom back for a little while.”

“What happened to her?” She asks cautiously. He’s never really spoken about his birth parents to her before and she’s more than a little wary of crossing some kind of line.

“She passed away when I was a kid. My dad had always been kinda shitty but he went totally off the rails after that and ended up in jail a couple of months later.” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, his rings clinking against each other, “I was, uhhh about 10? At the time. I didn’t have anywhere to go so Wayne took me in and I’ve been with him ever since.”

"My stepdad, Neil, was kind of shitty too before he left. My real dad is… less shitty, but I don’t even know where he is right now. I lost contact with him when we left California."

“Shitty parents are the worst,” Eddie confirms. He starts the van which rattles to life with a splutter and they fall into another silence while he drives.

Max is less surprised this time when they come to a stop and it’s somewhere other than the trailer park. She has to admit Sattlers Quarry seems like an odd choice, but trying to figure out how Eddie’s brain works rarely gets her very far.

“Come on, let’s eat.” He grabs the paper bag containing the food as well as his own cup of cocoa.

Max follows when he hops out of the van and takes a seat on the floor beside him. They’re at the bottom of the quarry, next to the water. She hasn’t spent much time out here, but it’s kind of pretty when the sun low in the sky hits the water just right illuminating it to a vibrant shade of blue.

“I’ve always liked how quiet this place can be,” Eddie says, reaching into the bag to pull out a carton of fries. Max reaches over to steal some, she’d barely eaten at lunch and now that she’d calmed down somewhat the hunger was starting to creep up on her.

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. He reaches into the paper bag and pulls out 2 burgers wrapped tightly in foil, he sets one onto his lap for himself and hands the other to Max.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He chuckles, handing her a paper napkin from the bag when she takes a bite of her burger and smears ketchup across her face in the process, “I can assure you I’ve dealt with worse just walking down the street.”

Max doesn’t doubt that it’s true, she’s heard the things people say about him even now after his name has been cleared. None of it is true, of course, but she thinks maybe that makes it worse. Eddie never seems to let it get to him. She’s not sure how he does it, her fists clench just at the thought of some of the awful things she’s overheard.

“Someone said something, at school,” Max says, picking up the disposable cup of hot cocoa from her side and swirling the remnants around in the bottom of the cup.

“Said something? About you?”

“About Billy.” She’s staring down at the plastic lid covering the cup in her hands, not able to bring herself to make eye contact, “And it’s stupid really because I thought I was over all that shit but turns out I’m not.”

“He was your brother, right?” Eddie asks and Max forgives him for needing the clarification. Just as he never talks about his birth parents Max doesn’t have a tendency to talk about her family either.

“Stepbrother, technically.”

“And the mall fire, I’m guessing that wasn’t a fire?”

“No. Not exactly.” She scoffs at the lame government-issued excuse, mall fire, sure.

She forgets sometimes that he’s been around for even less of all the crazy upside-down stuff than she has, usually they make an effort specifically not to talk about it. He wasn’t there for the demodogs, the underground tunnels, or the mind flayer versions one and two. All he knew from the pre-Vecna days was the very brief and massively oversimplified version of events given to him the day they had found him hiding out in Reefer Rick’s boathouse.

It sounds crazy, even to her own ears when she starts recounting the events of the past 4 years. She tells him briefly of the stuff Lucas had recapped to her from the year when everything began and Max was still back in California thinking the biggest problems in her life were going to be an asshole of a brother and a shitty step-dad. She goes into a little more detail when she gets to her own experiences with the upside-down after moving to Hawkins, but puts the most focus on the Summer of ‘85. She tells him about starcourt, about the mind flayer, the flayed, and what happened to Billy. What really happened to Billy, not the watered-down excuse that had been fed to everyone who wasn’t there to witness the truth.

“Well, shit.” It takes him a moment to process, understandably, “And you still miss him.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s expecting her to agree but she hesitates. She shrugs and her eyes dart to Eddie’s for the first time since she started talking. Eddie has never judged her for anything, but she’s worried this might change that.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“He was an asshole.” She states matter of factly, “I was so excited when my mom told me I was going to have a big brother. Then Billy came along. I thought he was cool at first, but that didn’t last. He was awful to me, and my friends. He hated me, I hated him. And Neil… Neil didn’t know how to deal with him and only ever made things worse. He thought all of his problems could be solved with a belt. Or his fists.”

She glances at Eddie. The hand resting on his leg balls up the fabric of his pants so hard his knuckles are turning white. She’s never seen him angry. Frustrated, or scared? Yes, but never truly angry. She thinks judging by the sullen expression on his face that this is as close as she’s ever going to get.

“He never touched me, didn’t think I was worth it, I guess. I was just some stupid little girl to him most of the time.” She’s quick to clarify and Eddie lets out a relieved breath, though he still seems tense. He encourages her to continue with a little nod when he realizes she’s paused, "I just- for a long time I would have given anything to have Billy out of my life and now that he’s  actually gone, I don’t know. It feels like it was my fault, maybe if I hadn’t had those thoughts or if I’d done more than just stand there he’d still be here. And maybe things wouldn’t have changed and we’d have still hated each other and he’d have continued making my life hell, but I wish we’d gotten a chance to try to be real siblings. I didn’t want us to hate each other.”

She takes a deep breath and fixes her eyes on the cup of hot cocoa in her hands again. It stirs up a strange mixture of emotions talking about everything, the guilt she still feels over Billy, the fear she feels when she wakes up from a nightmare and isn’t sure if she’s still in her bed or trapped in the upside-down, and the longing she would feel for a real sibling bond on those rare occasions when Billy wasn’t terrorizing her and everyone around them. But she also feels the relief of finally getting so many years worth of bottled-up emotions off her chest. She’s barely even scratched the surface and still, she’s never shared this much before, not even with Lucas.

“I had no idea. Shit.” She hears rather than sees him lie back onto the crunchy dry leaves scattered around them. It’s a lot, she knows that. She doesn’t think she’d know how to respond either, “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was ever your fault. Not Neil, Not Billy being an asshole, and certainly not Billy’s death.” He says after he’s taken a moment to process everything. It’s said with a fierce tone, one that doesn’t leave room for negotiation,  she’s only ever heard him use it a few times, usually when he’s arguing with Mike or Dustin about something.

She sniffles, managing to hold back the tears that are starting to sting at the back of her eyes. She doesn’t trust herself to speak so she just nods in acknowledgment, she’s done enough talking for now anyway, she thinks.

“I’m sorry that you never got your second chance with Billy.” His voice is softer this time and she peeks over to him and sees him sitting upright again, “Hey, you have Harrington though. He seems pretty awesome, surprisingly.”

It’s meant to lighten the mood and it works, the mention of Steve bringing a small smile to her face. Steve had shown her a kindness she never would have expected in those first few months in Hawkins. He had put himself right in the face of danger to protect her and the others without second thought time and time again. He’s a mother hen for sure and a good friend, but he’s not the first person who comes to mind when she thinks of the word brother.

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool.” Her voice wobbles just a little, but her smile grows wider, “If you ever tell him I said that I will end you.” She jokes, jabbing a finger in Eddie's direction.

“I’m sworn to secrecy!” He raises his hands in surrender. He gives Max a few minutes, before he asks, “You ready to go?”

They gather up their trash, balling up the foil from the burgers and placing their empty cups into the paper bag which Eddie then tosses into the back of his van. Max is slowly starting to understand why it’s always such a mess in there.

Eddie drops her off in front of her trailer, as usual. She grabs her things, says her goodbyes, and starts making her way inside. She makes it as far as the front door before the thoughts gnawing away at her brain finally win. She dumps her school bag and skateboard outside and turns to face the other side of the street.

“Eddie!” She yells when she sees that he’s just gotten out of his van and hasn’t made it inside yet. He stops in his tracks and turns to look at her with a confused expression when she calls him. He looks even more confused when she’s jogging across the street towards him.

“Hey, did you forget somet- oof.”

She wraps her arms around him in a hug so fierce it makes him stumble back a step or two. It takes him a couple of seconds to register what’s happening, but when he does he brings his arms to wrap around her and squeezes her back just as tightly.

“You’re a pretty great big brother.” She says from where she’s squished against his chest.

If she happens to glance back on her way over to her trailer and notice him wiping at his eyes, well no one needs to know.

[the-glacian]

The One With No Reason

(written for the December Event on the 30+ Fanfic discord server)

There might be a reason why Noctis moogle-searches the recipe for Ignis’s favourite pastry which takes him almost a day and eight spoilt batches to pull off. Why he then disguises his creations inside an old box from the best bakery in Insomnia to throw Ignis off before sweeping by the Citadel’s offices where Ignis has been held hostage lately. 

There might be none.

The box, casually presented in Ignis’s field of vision, instantly snatches his attention. “Are those by any chance the scones with mocha filling?” Ignis asks, a tiny smile pinching one corner of his mouth.

“Yes, Specs,” Noctis chuckles as he casually slides them closer to Ignis, “in case the label of your favourite bakery didn’t clue you in. And before you tell me I didn’t have to , I decided that hard labour should be rewarded with a treat.”

“Is it some royal decree you consider issuing when you become King, Noct?”

It’s Noctis’s turn to stifle a smile. “Maybe? One that extends only to you.”

“You still didn’t have to,” Ignis says with an affectation of nonchalance Noctis wouldn’t fall for in a million years, “but I wouldn’t turn down a mocha scone.” With how eagerly he disposes of his pencil to pick up his empty mug before shooting for the cupboard, dispels the last shreds of doubts if Noctis had any to begin with. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything fancier than a black coffee,” Ignis adds guiltily, jutting his chin towards the coffee maker, “but I’d be delighted if you kept me company?”

Stacking the papers in neatly arranged piles to free some space for their picnic, Noctis frowns up at him. “Of course, I will. I’ve barely seen you lately.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“Yeah,” Noctis laughs as he watches his friend rummage for Noctis’s mug. “If you call ‘letting me know that Gladio would be driving me today because you have an early meeting before rushing out the door’ seeing you, then I guess I did.”

Having retrieved it, Ignis sets the mug on the tray. “I’m sorry, Noct,” Ignis tells him, his expression contrite. “If it were up to me, you know I’d rather—”

“No, I’m sorry, Specs,” Noctis cuts him off as he mentally slaps himself for the unwitting depreciation of everything his friend does. Because it’s not how Noctis regards it. After the rough patch they went through some years ago, he’d hate to miscommunicate his motives again. “That came out the wrong way. I’d never hold your absence against you, I need you to know that. What I meant was… I miss spending time with you.” He gusts out a relieved breath when he notices Ignis’s posture relaxing. “I miss you .”

“I miss you too, Noct.” When Ignis fully turns around to look at him, there’s a familiar homeliness to him once more Noctis wants to capture and never let go. “Oh… And thank you for a treat from the bakery that closed weeks ago.”

(also on ao3)

>>> Part 1 of Polaris - The One With A Promise <<<

>>> Part 2 of Polaris - The One With Antics <<<

[geniequestria]

Starlight opens up the DisChaos program from within her lamp. She had just invited some pony to contact other than Fluttershy. None other than the first pony she personally genified…

<Starlight> Good afternoon, Trixie~ I pray that you can see this message? <Trixie> I see it, Starlight! This is amazing! Trixie isn’t sure what to think of that mismatched oaf that is Discord, but I’ll say one thing. He knows how to make a service when he puts his mind to it! <Starlight> Mmhmm, this will certainly be useful for our plans. I still have to wait for said mismatched oaf to add the public servers that Fluttershy told me about. But once they do… it’ll be even easier to spread our message~ <Trixie> Hehehe, the Great and Powerful Trixie can’t wait! Though that reminds me… if you’ve talked with Fluttershy, and in an amicable enough way… is she a genie too now? Are all the elements genies? I admit I did have this worry that maybe they’d be… resourceful enough to find a way to reverse everything. They almost always do… <Starlight> Not to worry, Trixie. Fluttershy herself is indeed a genie. The rest still aren’t, but that’s the whole idea. It’ll be more fun to genify them one-by-one over time as they give in to us. With Fluttershy already genified, the elements are useless. Victory has been assured. We’re just taking our sweet time with every pony who doesn’t realize that yet. <Trixie> That’s great news! Trixie can’t wait for your plans to be fulfilled so we can enjoy our wish-filled eternal life together <3 <Starlight> Neither can I, Trixie~. Though pardon the slight subject change, but how did you and the others from Our Town do in Manehattan? <Trixie> Ehehehe! We started our genification spree with a bang! We genified none other than Countess Coloratura live on stage! And then we genified her entire audience! <Starlight> Oh ho! That must have been one heck of a sight~ <Trixie> It sure was! Although… it was nothing compared to what we did together back up in the Crystal Empire~ <Starlight> Yes, it’ll indeed be hard to top that moment for sure… though is that all you’ve done over in Manehattan by chance? <Trixie> Well… besides genify a cop that tried to block our entrance. Not really? I apologize, was Trixie supposed to do more? <Starlight> No no no, don’t worry. I promise what you’ve done is respectable enough. Who knows if you want to give anyone in the audience their special moment of genifying their friends and family. It’d also be hypocritical of me to be mad at you for taking it slow when I’m doing the same for Twilight and her friends. Also, Celestia, Luna, and Cadence have told me they plan to wait for the next gala before genifying most of the capital. <Trixie> Oh... thanks for being so understanding. Frankly, Trixie can’t see why there’s still some resistance to Geniequestria. I ought to see Twilight soon, and tell her my perspective. She hasn’t met the genified me yet after all. <Starlight> Hmmmph, don’t expect to convince Twilight very easily. She still insists there must be some terrible catch that has yet to manifest… <Trixie> Maybe not… but she needs to at least see how happy I am now. I could have never dreamed of anything like this prior to being genified. You make Trixie feel so special… can you really be as bad as they say you are with that in mind? <Starlight> Yeah, they believe just because I don’t conform to their ideals of friendship that I must be doing something wrong. Even the currently genified Fluttershy still thinks I must change my tactics soon… I’m slowly making Equestria greater than it’s ever been and yet they resist simply because I’m not “friendly” enough for them.

<Trixie> Ha! Trixie knows how that feels. I gave crowds a good show, but some heckled me because my boasting was over-the-top and I looked full of myself… including three of Twilight’s own friends! But Trixie is supposed to play it up for the audience! They may be known as the elements of friendship, but apparently understanding what a performance is isn’t part of friendship… …I guess to be fair it is true that I can be a little too proud of myself, but c’mon just look at me, especially NOW!

(Vector by ShutterFlyEQD)

<Starlight> Ohhh, yes~ You were a very pretty magician before, and you make for an absolutely stunning genie~ <Trixie> Oh you flatter Trixie too much~ But do go on anyway! <Starlight> We ought to have another ‘duel’ when you get here, too~ <Trixie> Hehehehe, Trixie is so tempted to just use my genie power to teleport myself there right away just so we can get it on right this second~. But I’m feeling a stronger urge to genify some more ponies in this big city first. But I promise I’ll tell you when I’m heading over! <Starlight> That’s ok, Trixie. I’m feeling the same urge to grow Geniequestria further…  In fact, why don’t you gave a good look of how much is already Geniequestria territory~

<Trixie> Wow! We’ve spread that fast?! That’s great! What do the striped portions mean though? <Starlight> That just means the places currently in process of being genified. Naturally, that’s Ponyville, Canterlot, Manehattan, and Fillydelphia since that’s where most of the Cloudsdale refugees went. There could still be some ponies we still haven’t gotten in the more space I've labeled as our territory, but non-genies are more populous in the striped areas. We’re likely going to be tied up for a long while since these places are the most important places in Equestria. Maybe for the exception of Las Pegasus. But I was going to ask if you’d like to head over there once Manehattan is completely genified. <Trixie> Oh YES! PLEASE let me have Las Pegasus! I’ll share the reason why at some point, but let’s just say… it’s quite personal. I’d much rather tell you about it when we’re together rather than from a long distance like this. <Starlight> If that’s what you wish, Trixie. You should get whatever personally satisfies you most. I’ll make sure to tell the other genies that Las Pegasus is your mission. Though while we’re talking… you’ve been to Ponyville a few times, right? Is there a commerce that you think would be smart to target? <Trixie> Hmmm… did you and/or the Crystal Ponies already get Ponyville’s mayor? <Starlight> Wha…? Why does Ponyville have a mayor when they have a Princess in the vicinity? What’s the point? <Trixie> Well to be fair, Mayor Mare’s been the mayor there for long before Twilight became a Princess. And I imagine it’d be seen as quite rude to push out an elected leader for an unelected (Albeit still popular) ruler. Even if yeah… Twilight clearly has a lot more sway over her <Starlight> I see… that does give me an… idea for some fun temptation before transforming her into one of us. We’ve already gotten a few parts of Ponyville’s society genified like the Day Spa and the hospital. I imagine genifying town hall will do some wonders as well. Ponyville’s government would be under our control! <Trixie> Sounds like a plan! I’ll head off to let you go then. Ta ta! Can’t wait for our next ‘duel’~ <Starlight> Same to you, Trixie~. Enjoy yourself in Manehattan. For Geniequestria! <Trixie> For Geniequestria!

[mayhem24-7forever]

hiiiiii😘💓

😈 🛠🍦 🌞 ❌ 👀

hello! thank you so much for sending this ask! I’ll be so honest, the username change threw me off for a second but I am SO GLAD you messaged! ily 💕

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

I try not to be too mean bc I am a baby who cannot handle unhappy endings BUT I will say that my whumptober Rhett fic The Littlest Cowgirl and the Mean Old Bull (x) was almost completely made just from angsty things I said in the Top Gun server to torment my friends. 😂

🛠️ What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I used to use Pages but now I prefer to use Google Docs because it’s so much easier to share with friends to beta read/leave comments

🍦What’s the sweetest fic you’ve created so far?

Oof this is a hard one but probably the ongoing Time is Running Out series (x) because although there are some steamy moments I really, really enjoyed getting to write a softer side of my favorite cocky asshole Jake “Hangman” Seresin from Top Gun: Maverick.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

Late at night, usually so late that it’s far into the next morning because I am a night owl with no self control 😂

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

In terms of kinks: incest, underage, anything with water sports/scat

In terms of general tropes: I never say never but I’m not really a huge fan of doing unhappy endings like major character deaths and so having a fic end unhappily probably means the apocalypse is upon us and/or I have been replaced by an evil replacement and/or a cry for emotional help.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

SHAN I PROMISE I AM STILL WORKING ON THE STEVE HARRINGTON X READER X EDDIE MUNSON FIC “NEED YOU TONIGHT” FOR YOU! I know it has been AGES and you have the patience of a saint so here’s a fun little sneaky peeky for anyone who’s interested:

Eddie downed what was left of the almost empty bottle and put it down as he pushed off the wall to join Steve in the kitchen area. Steve put the pizza on the counter, took off his sunglasses, and was sticking the beers in the fridge when Eddie walked in.

“We need to talk, Harrington.” Eddie hissed lowly.

“Yes, her ass felt spectacular.” Steve replied with a smirk.

“No, Harrington. I’m serious.” Eddie shot back.

“Me too.” Steve said with a chuckle and Eddie grumbled, leaning in closer.

“Dude, I’m losing my fucking mind right now.” He said as Steve finished putting the beers in the fridge and stood up to look at Eddie properly. “If I watch her dance like that any longer, I’ll be cumming in my jeans. We have to do something.”

“Munson, we agreed that if anything with her is gonna happen for either of us, she’s gotta be the one to start it. We can flirt as much as we want, but no matter how sexy she is, or how much we want her, we can’t be the ones to make the first move. We agreed, man!” Steve replied, popping the top off of a beer bottle and taking a swig.

“Harrington, fucking look at her right now.” Eddie hissed, swiping the bottle from Steve’s hand and taking a large swig.

Steve sighed, grabbing another bottle and popping the top off before peeking his head around the kitchen cabinets to look into the living room.

He watched her dance for thirty seconds or so and then turned back to Eddie, adjusting the front of his pants awkwardly. “Yeah, we need to figure this out—and fast! I can’t look at her in that top all night and not ask her to fuck me. One of us needs to drop out.” The pair silently looked at one another, waiting for the other to just give up but neither of them said a word.

Thank you so so much for sending these in! I had so much fun! I love you bb 💕

[stormcallgaming]

🖋️ Tiger’s Review; Spellbreak

As of January 10th, 2023, Spellbreak is no longer available to play because the server has been shut down. I wasn’t able to “finish” this game because I didn’t have enough time to get the last trophy, but I played enough to voice my opinion on this game. So let’s get into it!

I first played this game in October of 2020, about a month after it was released on the PS4. God, it does not feel like I first played that long ago, it only feels like a year lol I won my very first match and got 4 trophies while doing so which felt insane to me. It was cool but it felt so… wrong. I’m TERRIBLE at pvp and I never win anything, so the fact that I won my FIRST match… it felt like I just slipped into the twilight zone okay. I actually hate pvp and battle royale games, they’re not my thing for multiple reasons, the main reason being that I don’t like people and these games make me SUPER anxious.

I do dabble in these games sometimes, but only in moderation.

When I heard that this game was closing soon, I was like, “Okay, I’ll give this game another try and collect some more trophies before the game falls into the cracks of history.” It’s nice to be like, “yeah I was there, I played that, I got some trophies from that game that’s no longer available.” It’s a nice feeling.

However… I failed to get the 100%, missing just one. damn. trophy. I failed at my goal and there’s only one reason for this – I gave up before I started. The server closed on the 10th of January and I returned to the game on the 4th of January. I told myself multiple times that there was no way in hell I could get all classes to level 14 before the game closed. Because of this, I didn’t spend as much time as I could have grinding. But to be honest, I was trying to play the best I could rather than just getting the xp for reaching the end of the match so I wasted so much time joining matches and dying soon after.

As it turns out… it was very doable. The game went on for for about 13 or so hours after the timer hit zero and I was almost there. I was just about to hit 14 on one class and then I had one more to do at level 8. If I had put in the work properly, I could have gotten it and I think that’s what pisses me off the most. I’ve always been a self-sabotager and seeing it work in real time is super frustrating and annoying. Now, that game will sit at 71% forever because the game is no longer playable. Let’s just say, I won’t be forgiving myself for this anytime soon…

Matchmaking was pretty slow, taking a minimum of 6 minutes to find a match. This might have been because the server was closing so people figured there was no point in playing. I always chose squad because it’s less stressful to me when I’m on a team, but I usually ended up alone anyway, which was more stressful because I was alone against full teams. Activity picked up as the timer ticked down and it was taking 2-4 minutes for a match.

Once I started to play again, I realized that it was actually kinda fun, like Apex but with magic instead of guns. It still felt weird as hell that I was actually doing really well. At first, anyway. Once the big hitters got online, I was lucky to last 10 minutes which was frustrating when I was trying to grind xp. I regret not playing this game more, but like I said, PVP isn’t my thing and I had other games that I was more interested in. I’m not entirely sure why they decided to close down, I heard they were bought out by Blizzard or something? Maybe they’ll bring it back one day, who knows.

The game wasn’t fun for long, though…

It’s very repetitive which, I know I know, it’s a battle royale, of course it’s repetitive. But there’s only one map and it got boring doing the same map over and over again. Especially since I was grinding, I was super fucking anxious while playing. I have an anxiety disorder so I’m anxious on a good day, but my heart was racing and I jumped every time I was attacked. I ran for my life, my whole body tense because all I wanted was to survive to the end so I could get the xp to level up. But goddamn, those people don’t play. They LITERALLY chased me across the map and wouldn’t stop.

Like yeah, I get it, the whole point is to kill other players. But is it really fun to chase someone across the map who isn’t even attacking you or fighting back? You passed how many people and loot on the way, yet you’re still focused on killing me? I won’t lie, along with being anxious as hell I was getting pissed. I didn’t care about winning or fighting, I just wanted to survive, but it was getting harder and harder and I don’t know why.

On the last day, I stayed awake for over 24 hours grinding this game. It was a bad decision because my anxiety levels were topping the charts and I almost had a panic attack more than a couple times. I was exhausted and frustrated and I just wanted to get the xp and move on. It may be stupid, but I can’t STAND when people keep trying to kill you even though you’re not fighting back. It happens a lot in open world games and it pisses me off more than anything. Like, congrats, you managed to kill someone repeatedly who didn’t even ATTEMPT to fight you off. Feel like a big man, now? It’s kinda shitty and it gets under my skin like nothing else. So, running off anxiety and lack of sleep along with the pressure of not knowing when the server would finally shut down and then dealing with one of my biggest pet peeves… it was not a good time at all.

As of writing this, it’s the early morning of the 11th. I’ve gotten some sleep, but I still haven’t fully recovered from my high anxiety levels. The best way I can describe it is… you know how in some games, weapons have heat levels? Use it too much and it overheats and takes time to cool down before you can use it again. It’s like that for me. If my anxiety gets too high, my body kinda… not really shuts down but stops functioning properly until I’ve “cooled off” and my anxiety levels have lowered. Usually takes a couple days, so I’m still dealing with that. And I don’t even have a trophy to show for it…

I did most of my matches in a squad because I feel less pressure in a team. But somehow, at the same time, I also feel more pressure lmao Like, I don’t want to be a burden to my team but I usually am. I’m always the first to die despite trying my best but I always gave my team the first pick of good loot if they were nearby. I survived a lot more on solo simply because I hid and ran away when I saw others – I know I’m a coward, okay. In a squad, though, I can’t just abandon my team when they rush head first at the enemy. Well, I mean technically I CAN, but I feel bad doing that. At the very least, I was happy to act as a punching bag for the enemy, making them focus on me while my teammates fought… or ran away and left me to die.

I met sooo many people in squad matches that would attack their own team, killing us or getting rid of our armor as soon as we put some on, people that would just stand there as we fought, doing nothing to help us only to swoop in once we were dead, kill everyone, and then run away without even reviving us. Like, WHY? What’s the point of playing a SQUAD match if you care nothing about your team and refuse to help them? It annoyed me so feckin’ much. I know these people exist in all MMOs but it’s just frustrating.

I honestly think I would have liked this game a lot more if there was a story mode to it. I know most games like this don’t have one, but I think it would’ve made the game better. Like, what’s the story behind the breakers? Where did these powerful gauntlets come from? What about those annoying guardian NPCs that always kill me when I’ve just landed and have no gear? Why are we fighting other breakers? I need some lore here, okay, I have too many questions!

There are 6 classes (gauntlets) to choose from – Pyromancer, Stoneshaper, Conduit, Toxicologist, Frostborn, and Tempest. And there’s also an overall mage level that increases no matter which class you play. Pyromancer is the first class I reached 14 on because it’s my favorite :)

Here’s a breakdown of each class according to my own experience.

My absolute favorite class. The gauntlet shoots fireballs at the enemy and the special is a wall of flame that does a decent chunk of damage. It also sets stuff on fire. If I had played the game more, this would have been my highest class after getting them all to 14.

One of the OP 3 classes, in my opinion. The main attack is punching the ground which sends a crack through the ground in front of you and it does quite a bit of damage. Not good against people who refuse to stay on the ground for more than 2 seconds, but this is the reason for most of my kills lol The special hurls a boulder and if you take a direct hit, it does so much damage. I’m not sure how it happened, but my character ended up getting two boulders to throw before it went on cooldown.

This can be an annoying one if you’re on the receiving end because it shocks you (obviously) and stuns you for a few seconds. You hurl bolts of electricity with your main attack and summon a storm in a small area with your ultimate ability.

Another of the OP 3 classes. The main attack is… I think 3 or 4 strips of toxic liquid that creates a puddle of toxic liquid on the ground where it lands and yes, it hurts, even if you stand in your own puddle. The ability is pretty OP, creating a cloud of toxic gas that does sooo much damage.

The last of the OP 3 and my least favorite class. The main attack is the OP part, creating a bow and arrow out of ice. If you pull it all the way back and hit someone with it, it’s a one shot kill 90% of the time and it’s ridiculous. However, it’s offset by the fact that your opponent is rarely ever still and it takes time to aim, so getting this one shot kill is rare. It also creates a line of ice beneath the area that you can slide across. If you stand on this ice created by the enemy, it will slow and freeze you. The ultimate is an ice storm that freezes the enemy, but it goes down where you’re standing. No aiming and no moving with you so it’s only really useful if the enemy is right on you, but that doesn’t happen often unless you’re running at them.

This one is pretty cool. The main attack is shooting these little wind shurikens at the enemy that made me feel like a ninja. The ultimate is a giant tornado that sucks you into it and it’s hard to get away from. I don’t actually know if it does damage, I never paid enough attention, just tried to get away from it.

Most of these abilities have to be manually aimed, though, which I guess offsets the fact that they are powerful and do a lot of damage. Most of mine missed because of this and the fact that most people move too much or don’t stay on the ground at all. There’s also elemental reactions that can make them more powerful. For example, if you shoot fire at the toxic cloud, it explodes. If you shoot toxic gas at the tornado, it turns into a toxic tornado. It’s a really cool mechanic that I wish I could have experimented with more.

One thing I did not like was the ability to hurt yourself and your teammates with your own abilities. When you’re in the heat of battle, it can be difficult to keep track of the enemy and your teammate and I always felt so guilty when I was the reason my teammate lost health or, worse, died.

There’s also a lot of other things that could turn the tide of battle. Along with the gauntlets that start at white (common), you can find upgraded versions of them along with runes and armor. Like most games, they go white, blue, purple, and orange (being legendary.) I can’t remember what blue and purple are, honestly.

The runes are also a game changer if you get the right ones. When I was just doing solo xp runs, it meant A LOT of running from the enemy. These are the most useful or fun ones in my opinion:

Invisibility: You go invisible (covered in purple on your own screen) which helps you with running away or sneaky attacks. You can use potions without breaking it, but if the opponent hits you with a random attack, it breaks it. I don’t know if dashing is also supposed to break it, but it did for me sometimes.

Flight: This is EASILY the most fun rune and it’s also good for running away. You shoot up into the air before shooting forward like feckin’ superman. Not only can you get away easily, you can easily outrun the coming storm. It’s also just really fun, did I mention that?

Featherfall: It shoots you up into the air and gives you a slow landing. Surprisingly good for running away and it’s also pretty because you get a trail of feathers.

Wolf’s Blood: Using this lets you see the nearby enemies in red. I only used this when in squads because it made me feel useful to them for the first time lmao

The worst rune, in my honest opinion, is that chronomaster(?) one. I never figured it out and it’s just annoying. When you use it, it creates this time distortion that activates after a few seconds, pulling you back to the point you used it. It always messed me up rather than helping me.

I really wish I could have gotten a pic of my stats before the server went down, but it went down in the middle of a match so I couldn’t get it. I did get a screenshot of my BEST match, though, and I’m super proud of it! 6 exiles in one match, I never thought I could pull that off haha

I will admit that this game is really feckin’ beautiful. The scenery is so nice and I wish I could have gotten more screenshots of it. I did grab this one, though. It’s one of my favorite areas with these maple(?) trees that are gorgeous.

It’s also a really small detail that I doubt anyone noticed, but the grass actually moves with the wind! I noticed it when I was hiding at the edge of the map where it’s most windy. It was quite beautiful if you ignore the SCREAMING WIND in your ear. It’s a nice detail that I’m glad they added.

I also want to give a shoutout to GEOR22_GR and BartholomeusM who helped me get the Stalwart Savior trophy. I was really stressing this because I found a bunch of people who said they were willing to help me but they never got around to it except for these two. I was getting more anxious as the time ticked down so I’m thankful to them for helping.

Another thing I wish there was more of was customization. Like, I wish you could customize how your character looks in regards to their hair, eyes, etc. You can buy costumes and stuff from the shop, but they’re expensive and it takes time to build up the coins needed to buy them.

The final thing I want to talk about is the names. I refuse to believe that each match was filled with actual people. I think most of them were just advanced bots used to fill half empty lobbies, but I can’t prove this. It’s mostly just the names and the fact that most of them would immediately game end as soon as the match started and most of them were ALWAYS in my matches. Here’s some of my favorite names that I came across and got a nice laugh from.

NowYouSeeDeadPeople (which I made a joke about because the first time I saw this name, he had been killed and I was like, “yeah I see dead people, it’s you” which I thought was funny but probably isn’t.) And, of course, IllegalSandwhichCombination which leaves me wondering which sandwhich combinations are deemed illegal. Also, I’m a bush (I was a bush a lot when earning xp. It worked only half the time.)

If you can read it, ItalianDressing. (I originally captured this photo to show off the wind moving the grass but then I realized you can’t feckin’ see that in a photo lmao)

I laughed so hard when I read that EvilToaster- killed HoudinisLeftShoe. Talk about the top 10 anime betrayals!

Don’t forget about PomeranianWarDog, I hear they are vicious as hell on the battlefield! They’ve seen some shit, man.

I am so sorry to TheFloorIsPizza. I didn’t want to do it to ya man, but it was an honor to fight you.

With that, I think I’ve said everything I have to say about this game. It was a fun experience and it’s a shame it got shut down. I have lots of regrets here, but that’s nothing new. I did manage to capture ALOT of videos about my matches which I’m still working on uploading to my YouTube channel. No commentary, but if you’d like to see them, you can check out the playlist!

I started this game on October 3rd, 2020. This game ended on January 10th, 2023.

My rating: ★★★★☆

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Seen Part V

Mary Sue sat masking her own fuming, waiting on her mother to meet her. Jean Rice had never met up with her daughter on time in the nearly six years since Mary Sue had left home. Jean left her sitting and waiting solo at countless restaurants and store entrances, checking her watch and pacing or bouncing legs under tables. Jean had never had any respect for Mary Sue’s time or anxiety. She finally walked in forty-five minutes after the time she chose to meet. “Mom, why is it every time…?” Mary Sue snipped, unable to swallow down the annoyance. She could be writing right now; her thesis; some fiction; a love letter to Joey.

“Something came up at work, and I’m needed at work. Some of us have to work for a living, Mary Sue,” Jean almost hatefully retorted. It jabbed Mary Sue every time her mother said that sentence to her; she’d been saying it since before Andy was born, and now that Mary Sue had done everything she thought her mother had wanted of her; lived on her own without asking for any help, practical or financial, and definitely not emotional; graduated college and was about to finish an advanced degree, Jean seemed to still resent Mary Sue’s very existence. She outearned her mother; had ‘more and better,’ on her own, but Jean still didn’t consider what Mary Sue did work, or valuable or worthy in any way. Jean asked her why she didn’t major in something like business or medicine; something practical with a definitive, high-paying, high-profile career attached to it. She still didn’t see her. Mary Sue often puzzled as to why her mother even attempted to stay connected; why did she want to ever meet for lunch; why didn’t they just part and be done with each other? It seemed to be what Jean wanted. “Separate checks,” her mother told the server as she walked away from the table, using all her self control to not show her irritation with someone holding a table for nearly an hour during lunch rush before ordering anything. Somehow Jean never thought of the server’s time as valuable either, and she was undeniably a person who worked for a living. Jean and Steven had a lot of weird things in common, Mary Sue mused. Jean would tip a technically proper amount, but Mary Sue figured she’d have to leave about a fifty percent tip today to make up for her mother’s rudeness and thoughtlessness.

“I have some news.” Mary knew from a lifetime of experience to never label news as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ to her mother, because Jean would inevitably come to the opposite conclusion Mary did about whatever it was. ‘I’m back together with Joe,’ and, ‘I’ve been accepted into the doctoral program for literature back home,’ to Mary, were undeniably good news items. Jean considered them both bad. ‘I’m lonely and don’t have anyone to connect to here,’ seemed good to Jean. Lonely would keep Mary Sue focused on school and work. Real work. Not reading books and talking about them. Not making up stories.

“Yeah?” Jean asked, as she inspected and straightened her table setting to her liking.

“Joey Disibio moved in with me over the weekend. We’re together. For keeps.”

“When the hell did this happen?! How and why would you let this happen?!”

“I ran into him out two Fridays ago, and...’meant to be’ finds a way, Mom. What can I say?”

“You think you’re meant to be with Joey Disibio?! You’re living with him?! You’ve only been dating for maybe 10 days, and that’s if you count every day!”

“I’ve known Joey since we were ten years old! We dated for almost three years before…”

“You got out. You got out and you’re letting him suck you back in. I knew when you got accepted to this program, it was gonna turn out bad. You’re too close to...and just...still reading books and being chatty about it like when you were a little girl. I’ll give it to you, I guess. Found a way to get paid for what you liked when you were ten years old. But you don’t marry the boy you liked when you were ten years old, Mary. You know what you get when you marry a boy from the neighborhood? You get trapped in the neighborhood. You never get out of the neighborhood. I married a neighborhood boy; dumbest shit I ever did. Biggest mistake of my life. Why would you do this to yourself?”

Mary Sue, even considering every memory she had of her mother, was still newly astonished at Jean’s uncanny ability to always make her feel like coming home for any reason was failure, and to try to make her feel that Joe, the great love of her life, was settling, which was also a form of failure. It was crushing every time in Mary Sue’s life she was forced to examine and concede that her mother didn’t love her father. She’d been instructed that marriage wasn’t a partnership forged in love and emotional support; it was a strained arrangement one made to make paying bills easier because it added a second income to the mix. Mary Sue didn’t really ever want to be married, repeating that lesson for so long. Her mother for every year since she was old enough to maybe be interested in forming a partnership with another person romantically...for love and support...hammered home that love and emotional support were worthless, or maybe even fictional. Money was real. If you’re gonna marry, marry up, marry outta here. Mary Sue sat, looking checked out, but spinning rapidly through all those memories of all those repeating comments:

“Some of us have to work for a living.” “If you’re gonna marry, marry up, marry outta here.”

“Go to school, Mary Sue; Make something of yourself; Get outta here.” “Marry a boy from the neighborhood and you’re trapped in the neighborhood.”

“Put down those books and do something useful, where’s that gonna get you?”

“Life doesn’t care what makes you happy, Mary Sue...”

“He’s seduced you into quicksand,” Jean finally said in a haughty whisper, under her breath but still meant to be heard. The server laid plates of food in front of them and scurried away, sensing the tension in the quiet language and stilted, grinding facial cues and body language.

Mary Sue was finally shaken from her reality check trance. “Quicksand isn’t really a trap, though, Mom. If you relax and accept that you’re in quicksand, you can walk right out of it whenever you want. Quicksand doesn’t really hold you. It’s not concrete; it never hardens up. You only sink if you fight and the more you fight the more you sink. And Joey’s not quicksand, anyway. He’s home. Home is good. It’s supposed to be good. It’s supposed to be the place you like the best; the place you always wanna go; the place that makes you feel safe and loved.”

“I’m not happy that you’re shacking up with some guy you’re not married to.”

“Sure, Mom. You just said you didn’t want me to marry… Fine. If that’s your issue, I’d marry Joey today. I’ll call for an appointment at the courthouse today. I wanna marry Joey.”

“Mary Sue, it’s barely been a week!”

“It’s been most of my life, Mom. Joey’s always been my best friend; supportive, protective...we love each other. I don’t wanna fight about this. I wish you’d be happy for me once. About anything. Or even just let me be happy about something without dragging it down. I’m happy.” Jean shoveled a large forkful of fried chicken salad into her mouth. Mary Sue picked at her lunch, nauseated from adrenaline fueled argument and anxiety with her mom. She ultimately broke open the uncomfortable silence with, “I’m not going to marry Joe today at the JP. Because I want his family and our friends to be there when we get married. A real wedding; a real celebration. I’ll tell you when that’ll be. But it WILL be. Someday. And we’re together now. And for always. I love Joey and he loves me.”

“Of course he loves you, he’s...” Jean began to mutter.

Mary Sue knew her mother’s next words without hearing them aloud. Jean would imply, or maybe directly state that Joe loved her to move up in his life. He loved her because with her, he could have better and more. And that was true, she thought, just not how her mother believed. “He’s My Joe,” she authoritatively stated. And regained her appetite while her mother sat with an uneaten salad, watching Mary enjoy her food.

***

“So...I told my mom we’d come over for dinner after you get off work on Thursday,” Mary Sue informed Joe as she pulled a formerly frozen pizza steaming from the oven. She hadn’t burned it, but pleaded, “Please don’t make the smoke detector go...” as though she or Joe or some superhuman force could control the sensitivity of the alarm. Maybe something did control it; no bell sounded, and she exhaled with pleased relief.

“How afraid should I be?” he kidded

“More like how afraid should I be? I don’t want them to ruin...this. This past ten days have been the best ten days of my life.”

“Told ya I’m not going anywhere. Unless you kick me out.”

“Never.”

“Even if your folks...like...still hate me? Everything they didn’t like is still there. Some of it’s worse now. I used to just be that punk you insisted on hanging out with who listened to dirty musicians in the car with you. Now I actually am a dirty musician who plays on the street when I’m not driving a forklift, and I live in your apartment full time.”

“Andy and Dad never hated you.”

“Yeah but they’re not who runs the show at the Rice house.”

“Well I don’t care what she thinks about you. She’s got no taste,” she teased, and was thankful he knew she meant it. “She doesn’t run the show at this Rice house. It’s not even the Rice house. It’s the Rice-Disibio house.”

“You’re gonna hyphenate?” He smirked at the query.

“I dunno. Probably not.”

“Staying My Rice Chex?” he asked, smiling wider.

“I’m always your Rice Chex, even if I change my name. If I don’t change it, it’s because it’s just easier to not have to do the damn paperwork. I’ve kinda wanted to be a Disibio since like 1994.”

“You’re already a Disibio, even if you never change your name.”

“I just wanted to make it clear that this is your house too. And nobody’s running the show. It’s not a show. It’s...home.”

“It is home. Wherever we’re together, that’s home.”

***

Mary Sue made an attempt in her Tuesday seminar, the only classroom time she had remaining before officially finishing her advanced degree, to make a friend in college. Her first attempt. “Um...” she timidly began to one of the three lingering students, all of whom were clearly already friendly with each other. “Y-your point about Virginia Woolf was really interesting,” she stammered to Lauren, whom she’d deemed the least intimidating of the three. But to Mary, that was like saying the wolf was the least intimidating of the wolf, the lioness, and the bear.

“Oh wow, thank you! Your comments...seriously everything you ever say is...like every time, I’m just astounded because you always have a take on something I never thought about that way before. I’m...flattered you’d...your paper last year on Toni Morrison was so great. It’s Mary, right?”

“Yeah. And you’re...Lauren. I liked your paper on Amy Tan. I’d never read her before I read your paper, and then I got into The Joy Luck Club about immediately afterward and was dreadfully ashamed of myself.”

“This is Emilia and Jeremy.” Lauren graciously introduced her to the other two students gathering their things to leave the classroom. Mary Sue noted in her head that their dissertations were on Isabel Allende and Walt Whitman, respectively. Lauren’s was actually on Virginia Woolf. They were close enough to completion at that point, most of the seminar discussion was peer review of their final student works.

“Hi. It’s...nice to meet you. Finally. I...should’ve...y’know...way sooner...”

“Hey. We’re all treading water sometimes. And we should’ve...hell, all of us have wanted to a bunch of times over the past two years,” Jeremy said.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You’re kinda intimidating.”

“Me?! I was...I was intimidated by you. By like...everyone. Just...college life in general.”

“Why?!” Emilia nearly shouted with shock. “You’re the youngest one here. Lauren is right; everything you say is just… You’re seeing whatisface from the CPA classes. We thought you were...y’know...trust fund kid or something...”

“I’m not seeing that guy anymore. I don’t know why I ever was. He’s a jerk.” They all nodded in emphatic agreement. “I’m...definitely not a trust fund kid. In high school, I scored really high on the ACT, and I took all the AP classes that were offered and I got two fives and a four and a three, so...that tested me out of my freshman year, basically. I tried to do really well on those tests because I knew it would cut down on the money. My family didn’t have any. Still doesn’t. The stipend is probably close to what both my parents make together. And then the school guidance counselor told me that since I took four tests and got a combined 12 on three of them, if I just took a foreign language test too, I could get all the AP test fees returned because we were under the income threshold, so I took the Spanish test, even though my school only offered two years of Spanish and I obviously didn’t pass, but I got all the money back and...y-you guys don’t wanna...hear alla this...”

“No, we do. We’re all reading and writing nerds. It’s nice to have...the backstory.” Lauren said.

“C-can I have yours too?” Mary Sue asked.

“I went to a rural high school that didn’t offer any Advanced Placement classes, so I had to start here from scratch. I actually started a little behind in math. I had to take the remedial 090s.” Lauren’s exposition surprised Mary Sue, and for the first time in her life, she recognized her own class privilege.

“My school had an AP program, but my guidance counselor would like...casually suggest that college was out of my reach anyway, and sometimes implied that my parents were here illegally. They aren’t,” Emilia explained, activating dormant indignation as she went. “I wanted to say, ‘Listen, Come Mierda, I’m smarter than you are for sure.’ But I didn’t. I just let him hold me down. I’m still here now though. Starting from scratch like Lauren.” Mary Sue shared Emilia’s anger, and felt disgusted that people were still doing racist shit like that. Jeremy shot an arrow into the serious cloud of talk about class and race, piercing it with sharp, sort of self-deprecating humor.

“I admit I took the tests like Mary and grew up in the suburbs. Didn’t have to fight anybody about money or to get access to classes or about race or whatever. I just fucked around my first three semesters in undergrad.” The women all giggled at the cutting honesty, delivered with a smile, but all of them knew there was a coarser reality behind the laughter. Emilia and Lauren, of course, had known Jeremy for a couple of years in the program, and were already friends, but even Mary Sue knew without being told that he was gay. Jeremy didn’t keep it sequestered on campus. “It was too alluring when I got here and saw other people like me...like who I wanted to be...to not be myself. Loudly. All the time. Overtime, really. I didn’t start behind. Not academically, anyway. I let myself get behind. Because I was catching up...to being me.” Mary Sue’s eyes stung with restrained tears. She of course didn’t understand being in the closet at all, much less unwillingly in order to survive, but she did understand feeling like who she was was never right or enough at home, and wanting to make herself more, but also wanting to be free from having to be more or better or different to just be loved. “So where the hell have YOU been for two and a half years?” Jeremy teased.

“Sitting here afraid you’d treat me the way my undergraduate roommate did at best, or how the guys I’ve dated in college have, or maybe even worse than that. That you’d look down on me. Think I was annoying or stupid or rambling or graceless or...something else bad. That you’d think I don’t belong here.”

“We were all afraid of the same sorts of things with you. And you’re none of that shit you said. But you know, we’ve had some minor speculative discussions about you. Your writing pieces; your choices for analysis. The things you offer in class when we talk about a piece or an author or a poet. They’re...unexpected. Or were. Before we knew the backstory,” Emilia said. “Toni Morrison, Kurt Vonnegut, John Steinbeck, James Baldwin...I was honestly really surprised your thesis wasn’t on Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.”

“It almost was, but...that’s not a new take, right? That’s basically just...retelling what the book is about. Straight up. Me. Just...ninety-ish years later and in Cincinnati instead. It was too personal. Too close. So I went with Mark Twain. So...I was never analyzing Edith Wharton or Fitzgerald or even Salinger, with their high society parties and marriage plots and boarding schools and servants and international travel when I got to choose a topic. That’s not something I can write about with any skill or authority, and it’s not even something I care to read about, even when the commentary on it is that the wealth gaps are gross and harmful and immoral. Which they are, but I’m still tired of reading about rich people. It’s not real to me. I’d rather read and write about people like me. And yeah, the black people, the sci/fi-bleak future fictional people, the farmers in the Dust Bowl and day laborers during the Depression, the little girl growing up in Brooklyn wishing for a better life...they’re like me. Fucking Lily Bart and Jay Gatsby and Holden Caulfield are not.”

“We were right,” Jeremy said, winking at the girls. “So you’re not seeing that dipshit anymore? Thank GOD. We don’t have to look at him in the literature hall again. And good gravy, you’re certainly too good for him…” he gravely continued.

“You’ve known me for like twenty minutes...”

“We’ve known you for two and a half years. You get to know somebody pretty well when you know what they read and write about,” Lauren corrected her. “Like...you’re our friend, Mary. You just...didn’t talk to us until today.” Lauren smiled and so did everyone else. Mary thought she could hear the low roar of three waterfalls, and thought about Joe.

“I have a new boyfriend. Now. I mean, it’s weird calling him my boyfriend or even ‘new’ because he’s...way more than that. He’s my best friend. He’s...My Joe.”

“Well do tell us more about Joe,” Emilia pleaded with raised eyebrows and a lilt in her voice. “Mi novio se llama Enzo...I mean...”

“I know that much Spanish,” Mary Sue giggled assurance. “And I know ‘shit eater.’ That wasn’t on the AP test, but like...” They all laughed as they finally moved out of the classroom. “Is Enzo Italian? Joe has a cousin named Enzo.”

“No, he’s Colombian. My family’s Cuban,” Emilia answered.

“No boyfriend. Yet. Definitely interested in finding one. Y’know. If you happen upon a suitable one...” Jeremy added.

“No anything-friend. Don’t want one. I mean I want friends! I want everything friends! Just not...” Lauren said.

“Got it,” Mary Sue assured them.

“So Joe’s Italian,” Emilia said, putting Mary Sue back on track, and asked for more with no subtlety. “Ahem.”

“And he’s sweet and funny and strong and tall and beautiful and he’s a talented musician and he gives the best hugs and wow I just really love him so much,” she gushed.

“Not a ‘new’ new guy?” Lauren inquired, a bit concerned at Mary Sue’s enthusiasm.

“I’ve known Joey since we were kids. Ten. I met him when we were ten.”

“Does he have a brother?” Jeremy kidded.

“His brother’s married.”

“Well, shit,” Jeremy laughed with counterfeit disappointment. Mary Sue noted that none of her new friends asked where or if Joe went to school, or what he did for a living. They only cared that she loved him and had known him long enough to safely love him like that. They only cared that she was safe and happy; that Joe made her feel safe and happy. It sparked irregular social courage in her college life and a bright idea to get more time around Joe.

“You guys have plans for this Friday night?”

“Not really,” said Emilia. “Ustedes?” she asked the remainder of the small group. They each shrugged and shook their heads.

“Have you guys been to that lame place Dispetto?”

***

Doug Rice slid the chain back, flipped the deadbolt and turned the lock on the entry knob to let his daughter and her guest into the apartment. His weary eyes and lips rose into a nearly apologetic smile. He was sorry for the apartment; that it wasn’t better and more. He was sorry about himself. That he wasn’t better and more. He was sorry that Mary Sue and Joe were there to see how he was worse and less, and that they were there to hear his wife tell them about it, and how she probably thought they were worse off and would have less now that they had each other, too.

“Mr. Rice,” Joe acknowledged Mary Sue’s dad with a reciprocated apologetic nod. He gently guided Mary Sue into the house ahead of him, his hand on the small of her back, before feeling his fingertips lose contact with her. She habitually went to check on her brother’s well-being. Joe remembered how many ‘dates’ Andy went on with them when they were young, so Mary Sue could get him out of the apartment. She felt perhaps even more guilty leaving Andy for college than she did leaving Joe. She left Joe with the Disibio family and she left Andy with hers.

“Joey. C’mon. Known you since you were little. We’re all grown ups now. It’s Doug.”

“I just...Mrs. Rice definitely doesn’t want me to call her ‘Jean.’ She doesn’t seem to be exactly happy that I’m here…in your apartment right now, in Mary’s life at all, maybe on Earth...” he kidded with the stinging sensation that maybe it wasn’t really a joke.

“Mrs. Rice doesn’t seem to be exactly happy about anything ever. Mary Sue seems happy. To have you in our apartment right now. And in her life at all. And on Earth. That’s enough for me.”

“That’s all I ever want, y’know? D-Doug. For Mary to be happy.”

“I do know that. I’m glad she’s happy. I’m glad she can be happy. That’s supposed to be enough. For parents. That their kids are happy.”

“I’ll work my whole life to make her happy. Her happy makes my happy.”

“That’s the way it oughtta be, too, Joey.”

***

“So I don’t think your dad hates me at this stage in life, and Andy is still Andy, which is nice, but no love lost with your mom. That’s for sure. She still hates me.” Joe took Mary Sue’s coat and hung it below his on the hook behind the locked apartment door. He felt his heart swell, looking at the jackets together on the same hook. She fluttered around the apartment like a caffeinated hummingbird, straightening things that were already straight, checking things that were already secure. Her words spilled out the same way she moved.

“Well, she’s just...she doesn’t love me. She doesn’t love my dad. Maybe she doesn’t love anybody. Closest she ever gets that I’ve seen is with Andy, but even then… She’s ashamed of who Dad is and where they are. And she’s...she’s putting that on me and Andy, and she’s putting it on you. Y’know, Andy told me tonight she had a ‘talk’ with him on his birthday about ‘knocking some girl up’ and ‘ruining his life’ and alla that, and he’s afraid to have sex now. He’s afraid to fall in love. He asked me how I ever went out together with you when we were younger and wasn’t afraid you’d ruin my life; how am I still not afraid of it? I’ll get pregnant and stuck with a kid in a shitty life. He doesn’t even have a girlfriend, but he told me… It’s really something else how she manages to tell me and Andy and Dad that we all ruined her life, were the worst mistakes, the dumbest decisions she ever made while still somehow thinking that she loves us and she’s looking out for us. That all that shit she says is landing just right to make our lives better instead of sending the message that love isn’t worth it and who cares about being happy and children are a burden that ruin your life and trap you in a set of shitty circumstances. Cruelty with good intentions probably does the most damage. She’s supposed to love us, Joe. She doesn’t see any of us. She looks at Dad and me and Andy and she sees duty and thankless work and prison. She sees all the blemishes and holes and flaws. She sees burdens, not blessings. Love isn’t a blessing to her. All she can see is lack. In everything and everybody. All she sees is misery. You can’t be anything but miserable if all you see is misery.”

Joe remained stationary and digested what she’d said. He recalled his youth dealing with Mary Sue’s parents, particularly her mother. Her parents never said they loved each other, never said they loved the kids out loud. They never hugged. They never kissed. They never held hands. Joe scoured his memory for one instance of them within five feet of one another and couldn’t find one. And he thought about how hungry Mary Sue was for comforting touch; how she just seemed to want to lay next to him, touching as much as she could; hold hands; sit on his lap; be held...constantly. “You still happy with me?” Insecurity crept up on him. Her mother’s antics had driven a dividing wedge between them before, and nothing on Jean’s part had changed an iota. He took a couple of nervous steps toward her.

“Yeah, I am.” She kissed him and they enveloped each other in a firm embrace. “I told somebody at school about you Tuesday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Emilia and Lauren. And Jeremy. From...from the independent study group. Think they’re gonna...um...come to happy hour with me tomorrow night. And Emilia’s boyfriend. Enzo. To...to see you play. So I don’t have to sit by myself at some boring place downtown. They said they were carpooling.”

“You checking up on me playing? Worse than Mom and Nanna D,” he kidded her.

“Do you not want me to come watch you play?”

“No, I love that you want to, but it’s gonna get pricey and end up costing us money instead of making us some if you go hang out for every...gig,” he chuckled. “Not to mention your friends. I guess they’re down with going out every weekend anyway though...”

“They’re not...this is gonna be kind of a special night out for them too.”

“I’m glad you...wanna watch me play, but you don’t have to. I’m alright. I’m not gonna get picked up by some other girl who digs trashy street musicians.” He tickled her sides again, a tried and true way to get both of them in a cheerful mindset. He didn’t want her to think he was asking her not to come.

“Not worried about any of that. I know you can handle your own business and you’d never...I just...wanna see you play again, knowing it’s you the whole time. And I wanna show you off.”

“Show me off?! To your doctoral program friends?! I’m sure they’re gonna be blown away by a trumpet player who can’t read music and wears big work boots,” he laughed, heavily discounting himself.

“Pretty certain they will be,” she replied, wiping away all his comical insincerity.

***

“Dios mio...mira...Trumpet Player Joe es muy guapo. Sexy,” Emilia spouted as she approached Mary Sue on the corner of Main and 9th. Joe was presently playing Adam Ant’s Goody Two Shoes.

“Hey!” Enzo protested in jesting heartbreak.

“Just saying, Papi,” Emilia laughed. “Not to be really gross and all, but I bet he’s really good at...things,” she said to Mary with a suggestive wink.

“Not to be really gross and all, but he is really good at things,” Mary Sue smugly responded.

“They’re really good. Especially Joe,” Lauren added with more earnestness and less salaciousness.

“The piano player is sexy too,” said Jeremy.

“He’s about to get engaged.” Mary let him down as easily as she could.

“Godammit! Do you know any actual single men? I mean not even necessarily gay, just not already spoken for?” he joked.

“Hey beautiful,” Joe called to Mary Sue at the song break, still winded from so much up tempo trumpeting, and she went to him amid her friends whistling and mugging at her. “Getting a little chilly out here. You’ve been out here for four outta ten songs. They saw me play one. Maybe you should go warm up with your friends for a while.”

“How much longer are you gonna be out here?”

“Maybe another hour. I’ll come for you once I play La Vie En Rose. Count on it.”

“I do count on it. Can I have a little kiss?”

“Yeah, c’mere.” She leaned down to peck him on the lips and returned to her friends to enter the same bar she’d abhorred two weeks before, but this time, she savored it. The right ensemble really did make or break any time and place.

“What do we get here?” Lauren asked, crinkling her nose at the tame, humdrum list of pub food to choose from on the overly stylized, overpriced menu.

“The cheapest stuff. It all pretty much tastes...fine,” Mary Sue said. The intimate group all laughed. They talked about books and how they grew up and things they actually liked to eat, and decided that the next time they got together should probably be at someone’s apartment to save money and munch on better fare. Most of the hour Mary Sue spent without Joe flew by, parodying the menu and the motif and the clientele of the bar. Jeremy made another wisecrack about his difficulty meeting quality men, and as if on cue, Steven materialized at their table.

“I see you’re here. Realize the error of your ways and come back to make up?” he needled, clearly assuming an answer she didn’t give him.

“Uh...I’m here with friends. I thought that was plain to see.” That sentence felt so good to say out loud, she smiled. “You usually don’t come back to the same place. Why’d you come back to this one?”

“I liked the mozzarella sticks.” The entire table couldn’t hold back bursting laughter. “If you think this place is such a joke, why did you come back?”

“To see the band.”

“The homeless guys outside in lawn chairs? Again?”

“God, Steven. Seriously fuck off.”

“Why are you so protective of that band? Why do you even like them?”

“I’m gonna marry the trumpet player.” Her friends looked delighted at her confidence and contentment in that declaration. Steven scoffed as if it were preposterous.

“Yeah. Alright, Ems. Fine, I’m out. Marry the fucking trumpet player,” he pouted, and stomped back to his own associates.

“What a dick,” Jeremy said. “And this time I mean that in the shitty way,” he clarified, drawing out a laugh from all of his company.

At the end of the set, Ethan and Will packed up to go home, and Joe finally entered Dispetto with his trumpet case. “There’s My Rice Chex.” He grasped her right hand and tugged her to his lips for a kiss.

“I love those lips,” she whispered, relentlessly smiling.

“He calls you Rice Chex? How fucking adorable is that?” Emilia squealed. “Enzo calls me his reina.”

“Because she’s my queen,” Enzo chimed in.

“How’d Rice Chex start?” Lauren inquired.

“Oh it was a process. I kicked around a couple other options first,” Joe teased.

“Did ya? I never heard this,” Mary Sue giggled.

“None of the other ones sounded right. Just didn’t fit her. Rice Wine, Rice Cakes, Rice Pudding, Rice Pilaf, Rice Krispies, Rice-a-roni...nah. She’s My Rice Chex.”

Joe snacked on room temperature leftovers of the appetizers they’d ordered when he was playing, and laughed a lot, and drank a few refills of water before their group disbanded to call it a night. On the walk to the truck alone with Mary Sue and his trumpet case, she implored him, “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Steven’s at Dispetto tonight. I told him I was gonna marry you someday.”

“The asshole who left you without a ride? Which one is he?” Joe looked back at the picture window with a discerning squint. “Point him out,” he demanded.

“Red sweater over the pinstriped button up. Second table from the left at the window.” Mary Sue complied, but was wary. “You’re not gonna do anything, are you?”

“No. Just...making a record. For future reference. What’d he say to you marrying me?”

“He walked away tittering like a cartoon bird, thinking I was lying for effect.” Joe raised an eyebrow at her in an expression a bit too serious for her liking. “I wasn’t. Everyone else at the table gave me the Aw Face.” Joe’s cocksure smirk returned.

[finniestoncrane]

Absolution

Eli Sunday x Female!Reader, word count: 2k i blame the discord server i just needed a lot of this and i needed it now so yeah request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: religion, sex on a desk™, oral, language, degradation

“Father Sunday, I’m so grateful that you would let me come to you in my hour of desperate need.”

On the floor of the office at the back of the church, Eli Sunday paced behind you as you sat on the chair at his desk, facing away from him, face basked in the light that managed to pour in from the dusty window. You could have looked almost angelic, cheeks stained with tears, lips pink and pouting, basking in the glow of God’s light, if not for the fact that your cheeks were ruddy with embarrassment. Truly a sign of a sinner to Father Sunday.

“Who else would you come to, my little lost lamb? I welcome your ingenuity, your honesty, now more than ever. To come to me without force. The willing can be saved.”

He spoke with genuine feeling, but never ceased his relentless patrol of the floor, footsteps softly thudding, the creaks of the floorboards with each purposeful step.

“I want to be saved, Father Sunday. More than anything. I want to be pure.”

“So tell me. What are your sins, little lamb. What sets you apart from the flock?”

As you paused, taking in a shuddering breath, you considered changing your mind. The consequences of being so forthright weighed heavy on your mind. Watching the dust settle on the rays of light, the way they floated, sparkling, you tried to calm yourself, licking your lips before speaking.

“Father Sunday, I can only apologise, and I do so profusely, but I’ve…sinned.”

There was a brief pause before he let a soft chuckle fall from his pursed mouth.

“I wouldn’t expect any less of someone like you.”

“Father Sunday, I-”

“Please don’t interrupt me. You’re forgetting who you’re speaking to. You think I don’t know all?”

“You know what I’ve done?”

“Of course, my child. I’m blessed with the knowledge from our Father above.”

Of course. Fear settled in the put of your stomach, coiling its way around your intestines, nauseating you almost immediately as it snaked around your insides and claimed them as its own. You tried to speak, but all you managed was a meek and nervous stutter.

“I see.”

“But, absolution can only come from you. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done? Let the words come forth and enter into this holiest of spaces, where they can no longer blacken your insides, darken your soul.”

Taking in a deep and shaking breath, you let yourself begin the procedure of washing away your sins.

“Well, Father…I’ve been deeply troubled by thoughts of…sin…for some time now. It’s been overwhelming me, temptation taking hold of my very being. I thought that I may act upon it in a way befitting a true sinner, so in my haste to resolve this possession, I took matters into my own hands.”

Silence behind you, as Eli stopped pacing and stood still, in an indeterminate space in the room, watching and waiting.

“Quite literally.”

From his space in the room, watching over you like a guardian angel, you could hear a soft breath as Eli opened his mouth.

“I don’t mean to covet another woman’s man, but something lately has come over me, and I’ve found myself very interested in…well I won’t say…but the desire was strong enough that I let myself indulge in carnal sins, those of the flesh.”

The gentle sound of fabric shifting, as you assumed Father Sunday was bracing himself against your words, disappointment coursing through his veins at the words of his little lost lamb. But, out of your view, it was evident that something else was stirring in Eli, something to help corrupt his false moral standing.

“I’ve taken pleasures…touched myself, Father Sunday. I wasn’t able to stop myself, the need was too strong.”

A sharp breath, shuddering exhale, before Eli spoke again.

“Please…you must be open…honest…tell me everything.”

Footsteps shuffled behind you, as you could send his presence closer to you.

“In the dark, as quietly as I could. I moved my nightdress up, let the cool of the evening settle over my stomach, bare and exposed. I touched…I didn’t…But I touched…”

“How did it feel, my lost, little lamb?”

“It felt…good, Father.”

The embarrassment of admitting your sins to him had your stomach flipping, blood rushing to your cheeks and pulsing in your ears, deafening you, reddening your cheeks, and filling you with a familiar warmth that only further worsened the shame that coursed through you.

“It was warm?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Hmm…” It sounded ponderous, as though he were contemplating your punishment, or whether or not you could be redeemed for your transgressions. But beyond your view, out of reach of your senses’ comprehension, Eli had quietly loosened the black pants he wore. With his thumb and forefinger, he limply tugged at his semi-erect cock, mouth falling open in a silent gasp, hushed pleasure flowing free.

“It felt…pleasurable?”

“Yes, Father Sunday.”

“And you…followed through to completion on your actions?”

“I’m sorry, Father Sunday. I did. Yes, I did.”

With a free hand lifting his shirt up, he wrapped his palm tight around his length, tugging viciously at himself, his thumb languidly tracing over his head, shuddering at the sensitivity, the tainted satisfaction.

“Quietly? Or were you unable to hold the moans back at your sinful ministrations?”

“Father…I…”

You turned to look at him, but he stamped his foot down, hard and loud, whipping your neck back and staring forward. The shuffling of fabric and footsteps, a belt.

“Oh, Father Sunday. Please not that.”

“From…oh, the belt?”

“I assumed…would that be a fitting punishment? I believe in coming clean, I should be afforded some mercy.”

“And do you believe you deserve it?”

“The belt?”

“Mercy, you silly little lamb.”

“Please, Father.”

He stepped to behind you, slowly, placing his palms firmly on your shoulders, breathing in deeply.

“I think perhaps…” his fingers squeezed into you, holding you down in the seat “…that a punishment fitting of this sinful behaviour, would be to take part in something that might take the whore out of you.”

You stayed silent, cowering into yourself that the insinuation, regardless of how true you might believe it to be, that you were a whore.

“Perhaps something that might satiate the urges. And who better to perform this exorcism of your demons, than a holy man.”

Sitting deathly still, you let his words sink in, their meaning igniting a warmth inside of you, pressure forming in your stomach. You licked your lips in anticipation of his next words, waiting for him to finish his sweet sermon.

“Are you amenable to this?”

Nodding your head lightly, you felt his fingers tense into you further, reassuring yet threatening, which is the way you would describe his presence as leader of the flock. There was the faith that he could save, that he could heal. But underneath lay the threat that by not following his words and his ways, that you could easily be corrupted, damned. He leaned into you, spitting the words out sharply.

“Say yes.”

“Yes, Father Sunday.”

“Stand up, turn around, and get on your knees and pray.”

Doing as you were told immediately, you lent at his feet, making note of his loosened belt, the bulge contained with his trousers, pressing into the front of them, saliva pooling in your mouth. You quickly swallowed it, lest you drool as you began your prayers. Knees in the familiar position, recognising the harsh, gritty wood on the bare skin, you clasped your hands together and began to pray for your salvation. But when you lifted your eyes to make sure you were pleasing Father Sunday and the Lord with your words of apology and devotion, you were met with Eli staring straight back at you. Cherubic, youthful face red, sweat beading on his forehead, his lips curled softly at the corners. His hand, holding his length in his hand, so close you could smell him on you. Hot, slightly salty, delicious.

“Your prayer is pathetic, and I do believe that your sinner’s mouth would be better tasked with something else. Now, if you will please me, I can sense that this would work in your favour. Let me wash your mouth out with my forgiveness, little lamb.”

Mouth opening slightly for him, he tutted, pressing his thumb to your lower lip, his fingers soft and warm as he pushed down on your teeth, lowering your jaw and making room for himself. Guiding his cock by the base, he entered your mouth, whimpering lightly under his breath as you let your tongue press up against the shaft, drawing it over the head as you flexed it. Eli caught your chin in his hand, palm meeting the skin with a slap, gripping tightly as he forced your gaze to his, still resting his firm cock in your mouth as his precum settled on your tastebuds.

“Harlot. You’re a vessel for my salvation. You should stay still and take it, participation indicates enjoyment. You’re not enjoying your punishment, are you?” He pulled back, ejecting himself from your mouth with a sloppy noise, your spit falling from your lips to the floor.

“Of course n-”

“Don’t lie in the house of God, lamb.”

“I enjoyed it, Father Sunday.”

“Then I’ll have to make this a lot less pleasurable for you. Get off of your knees and bend over this desk. I do my best work here, write my sermons, I can eradicate your sin upon it also.”

Stepping behind you as you positioned yourself across the desk, Eli lifted your skirt, silently judging your lack of underwear, as he pressed his fingers to your folds. Bringing them back out, he thrust them at your face.

“Sinful!” His voice was loud, echoing around you. Beet red from the shame you could feel the flush of heat in your cheeks, wondering if the rest of your exposed body was blushing similarly. Before you had time to contemplate it fully, Eli had inserted himself inside of you fully, stretching you, virginal innocence claimed by the shepherd of the flock. It was overwhelming, you could feel the Lord inside of you. You were grateful to Eli, for sharing his gift, his forgiveness.

“Ask for forgiveness, whore. Beg for it.”

“Father…uh…Sunday…p-please…please save me…”

As Eli thrust into you, his hair coming loose from the tidy style it usually sat in, he looked up at the wall, staring at the cross that hung there, well aware that the noises of the carnal sacrifice he was making would be heard through the cracks of the wooden shack.

“You are a whore. You are a harlot. And you are a sinner. And only I can save you, only I bring the salvation you so clearly desire.”

“Yes…yes, Father…yes…”

“Say it, out loud for God and all his children to hear. Tell what you are loud and proud.”

“I’m a whore, Father Sunday…hng…a whore…”

“And I’m here…to flush…hmm…the demons from you…mmm…to expel them…raw and painful as it might be!”

His thrusts became clumsier, no pace to them, frantic in nature as he tried to rid you of your shame, your sin. To make you whole and pure. His fingers, tightly gripping at your exposed hips, bruising the flesh with the effort he put into pulling you back onto him, revelling in his act of charity so roughly bestowed upon you.

“Shall I…bless you…little lamb? Would you like to be anointed?”

“Yes, Father.”

He slipped out, turning you around and pushing you on to your knees once again. His hand, rings glinting in the sunlight, pumped furiously at his cock as he whined in frustration, waiting for you to take position. And as you stared up at him, ready for instruction, eyes wide and sorrowful, his position of command reinforced, he let loose upon you, allowing his blessing to cover your mouth and cheeks. In shocked silence you stayed still, awaiting his further instruction. But as he tucked his shirt back in and adjusted his trousers, all he did was toss a handkerchief at you for you to clean yourself off.

“Though your sins have been absolved for now, I can only expect you to sin again. Weak is the flesh. The temptation of whores.”

Weak indeed, as you limped on shaky legs out of the church, blessed by Father Sunday and intent on receiving further absolution for the sins you might perform on yourself that evening.

[coffeecatsandcandles]

Chapter VI- Welcome Back

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader (featuring Pietro Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff)

➵ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.1k

➵ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | themes of divorce and separation, exes, absent parents, depression, fluff w some angst

დ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

Bucky fumbled with the straw of his drink. It’d been his second refill since the meal started, because when he was nervous, he drank water.

Lots of it.

Natasha knew this, so she tried to keep the conversation light. In their relationship, Bucky was the one with the nerves. He was the one who worried about every little thing. He wore his heart on his sleeve like that, unafraid to show that he cared.

“A magnet school? There’s one in the area?” Natasha asked, poking at the pickle slice left on the side of her sandwich with a plastic fork. She and Bucky had settled on a deli they used to frequent often, many years ago. This way, they wouldn’t have to worry about a server interrupting their conversation or splitting the bill at the end of the meal. When she was pregnant with Winnie, she’d crave this deli more than anything- specifically their pickles. She could tell the difference between their pickles and the ones from the store… these pickles were better, more up to her standards- more satisfying. Now, she had a distaste for pickles, wondering how she could even tolerate eating them in the first place.

“Yeah, a couple of her friends got in and she wanted to try it out. She loves ballet, they have a great dance program. And she knew she wouldn’t have been able to go if she didn’t keep her grades up. She earned it.”

“And you have enough for tuition?” Natasha asked. She didn’t mean it in a bad way, like she was doubting his ability to care for the girls. She just wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Yeah, Nat. I’ve got a lot in savings.”

“Still, I mean. You need some help, right?”

“What are you saying?”

“I can help with tuition and stuff. Any bills she has, hell, I’ll take her back to school shopping if she wants. I could get her a nice pair of slippers. I missed a lot, Buck. I want to make up for lost time.”

He knew she meant well. This was a side of her he’d never seen, not even when they were married, before kids. Natasha had always been the type to keep to herself, not particularly care for other people because she was too busy working on herself or her career. Bucky thought he liked women like that until he got married. That didn’t end well, and you were vastly different.

Now, Nat was starting to act like you.

A little more caring, a little more empathetic. Wanting to help and asking what you can do to better yourself.

“Nat, I can’t ask you to do that-”

“I’m offering. I just want to see them, or at least help in some way if you don’t want me to see them. I can understand why you wouldn’t.” She lowered her head, gazing at the club sandwich she only finished half of.

Use your best judgment. He heard your voice ringing in his ears. He wanted to- he wanted to introduce her to the girls and help her make up for lost time. In a perfect world, it’d all go smoothly and they’d feel whole again.

Bucky tried to be realistic. She seemed well. She’d mentioned therapy, antidepressants. She seemed like she had a genuine desire to see her daughters again. But the fear of his girls getting hurt again was almost crippling- what kind of father would he be if he let that happen again, knowing he could’ve stopped it?

It was a lot of trust. Trust Bucky was sure he wouldn’t have had if it hadn’t been for you.

You had encouraged him to be a better person. To trust that everything would be okay- that second chances were possible. That people could change.

“Saturday at noon, come over. The girls will be home. But I swear to you, Natasha, if you mess this up-”

Nat had gotten out of her seat, excitedly wrapping her arms around her ex-husband as her face lit up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” she repeated, trying and failing to keep happy tears from falling down her face.

-

“Becca! Do you wanna go on the tilt-a-whirl?” Elliot asked, pointing to the gigantic machine flinging carnival-goers back and forth at an exhilarating pace. Just the sight of it made you nauseous, and your more logical side didn’t want these children anywhere near that ride- it looked like it hadn’t been inspected in years.

“No, Elliot” Rebecca laughed as Elliot excitedly tugged on her sleeve, “I’m gonna puke!”

Elliot laughed back, all in good fun. The two had actually started getting along lately, and it warmed your heart. “What about you, mom?”

“I’m perfectly fine right here on the ground, bud. Besides, I see a funnel cake with our names on it.”

“Dad?” Elliot asked with hope in his eyes.

“Fine, you little daredevil. I’ll race you to the line.” Pietro said, immediately running off with Elliot who was giggling as he tried to keep up with him. You tried to take a breath at the idea of Elliot and Pietro on the dangerous looking ride. You decided to distract yourself, forcing your attention to go to the girls.

“Okay, I know me and Elliot are getting a funnel cake. Bec, you want hot chocolate, right?” It was like you were calling roll or doing inventory, the way you tried to remember what everyone wanted.

“Popcorn, Mommy! Popcorn!” Willow reminded you.

“Right, and you two want popcorn,” you smiled, booping your daughter’s nose. “Now we have to figure out what Daddy wants.”

“I wish my Daddy was here,” Winnie admitted, eyes suddenly growing sad. Winnie had been rather quiet all night, only really talking to Willow. This was the first time she’d really spoken to you all evening.

You stooped down to the four-year-old’s height. You didn’t want to tell her why Bucky wasn’t here yet. That was something he had to tell her himself, when the time was right. “I know, baby,” you said, offering a hug, “I do, too. But he’ll be home later. You can tell how much fun you had.”

“Winnie, hold my hand so you don’t get lost!” Willow said. Your sweet girl, she was so attached so Winnie now they were practically twins. She was always a sweetheart, offering her help even if she was too little to do it. She cared so deeply about the people in her life at such a young age, you just knew she’d be loved and cherished by even more people as she got older.

“When Daddy and Elliot get back we’ll grab food, okay? Then the ferris wheel is next!” you said, stress alleviating when you saw Winnie’s face slowly light up, until she was a happy girl once again. You couldn’t wait to tell Bucky about this- he was such a sucker for both of his daughters, but Winnie especially. She was his baby, and if he found out she almost couldn’t have fun without him- he’d have a field day.

-

You watched as Bucky began to pace around the living room. He had a habit of doing that lately- so much pacing, so nervous all the time. You could only hope he didn’t feel as stressed as he looked, though he probably did. It hurt knowing all you could do was sit and hope for the best. Sure, you offered to help as much as you could. You didn’t want to feel completely useless. But Bucky assured just your presence was enough for him.

“I can go if you want. I know this is probably something you want to do alone,”

“No, I can’t do this alone, baby.” he said, “Trust me. Just stay here with me. I need you.”

Bucky had this new feeling every time he looked at you. Before, he just saw your beauty. Took a couple seconds to wonder how he got so lucky to have a woman as gorgeous as you. As he got to know your kind heart, he’d ask himself how he got so lucky to have you. Not just your looks, but you. How you rubbed off on him; he would often ask himself if you would make the decisions he was about to. If you wouldn’t, he didn’t do it.

Now- he looked at you and saw the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine seeing anyone else the way he saw you. You were utter perfection in his eyes- having the ability to calm him down just with your presence. He needed you, always. Without you, he’d probably spiral.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” you assured him, lightly touching his cheek and watching his eyes flutter closed as he attempted to relax into your touch.

You and Bucky had about one second with this moment before the doorbell rang. You could feel Bucky tense up as Winnie came downstairs, humming a song she had stuck in her head. “Who is it?” she asked her father.

“Just sit on the couch, Pooh-Bear, I’ll explain in a second.”

“It’s going to be okay,” you whispered to him. You weren’t sure where to go- but you figured it wouldn’t look good for you to answer the door with Bucky, so you opted to stay in the living room and keep Winnie company.

You watched Bucky make his way to the front door, opening the door to be greeted by Natasha. Her hair was in a braid, her makeup was light, and her slightly-oversized brown coat stopped mid-thigh. “Hi,” you heard her say to Bucky, her voice low, as if her presence was a secret.

“Winnie is in the living room,” he said back, his voice equally as low, “I’ll get Rebecca.”

Natasha spotted you from afar, making her way to you, the nervousness radiating off her as well. She stopped at your side, eyes first fixated on you and then to Winnie.

“Hi, Winnie,” she said softly, eyes already beginning to well up with tears.

Winnie was only two years old when Natasha left, so she had little to no memory of her. You wondered if she’d just know right away- or if she needed a little convincing. Based on the look on her face when she saw Natasha, you could tell Winnie had no idea who she was looking at.

Winnie shyly pressed her top and bottom lip together, moving from across the room to being right next to you, needing a grown-up she knew to help her.

“You remember me?” Natasha asked. She knew it was a silly question- of course she didn’t. But she wanted to pretend she’d have this incredible reunion with her daughters, that all was forgiven immediately and they’d hug and make up for lost time.

But she wasn’t going to get that. At least, not with Winnie.

Winnie started fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, signaling that she was feeling a little shy.

“Mommy?” You heard Rebecca’s voice from behind you. You turned, seeing that she was at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded at the sight of her mother in her house once again.

“Rebecca,” Natasha smiled, “I missed you two so much.”

There was a long, pregnant pause as everyone tried to figure out what to say to make it less awkward. Winnie was catching on, even whispering to you, asking if the lady in the living room was her mom. You nodded in response.

“Last time you saw me I was a mess, right?” Natasha approached Rebecca carefully. Bucky was not too far from the scene, ready to move in case one of his girls needed him. To say he was nervous for Rebecca in this scenario was an understatement- the poor thing must’ve been so overwhelmed.

Rebecca, unsure of what to do, just figured this had to mean everything was okay- right? She had her mom again, she could be happy now. She took a few steps towards Natasha, then wrapped her arms around her in an unsure, loose, but powerful hug,

“Oh, Becca. I’m so sorry,” Natasha muttered into her daughter’s hair, tears making her way down her face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, honey. But I am so sorry.” Nat felt a weight against her legs. Looking down, she saw Winnie hugging her legs, still confused but following her sister. She stooped down to their heights, noticing how much they looked like their father. There were a few details about their faces that came from her, but for the most part, they looked more like Bucky. “If you two will let me, I would love nothing more than to be a part of your lives again. I wanna be a good mom. I’m sorry it took me so long- but I’m ready now.”

Rebecca froze. This was a grown-up decision. Who was she to have a say in what happened? Sure, she liked the idea of her mom being back. She missed having a mom. And it wasn’t like she didn’t like her dad- it was the complete opposite. Rebecca loved her dad. She knew and understood that he was raising her and Winnie all by himself, and she loved him for it. And you were in the picture now, basically a mom for her. You took her to ballet practice, you ran lines for the school play with her. You were nice to her, you were there when she needed you. You’d even gone as far to help her with girl problems- she was a little too nervous to ask Bucky about those things, but you were fully prepared and ready with any questions she had. Not to mention, you made her dad so happy. You were the mother figure in her life, now all of a sudden, she had the opportunity to have two moms?

She hated to think about it, but she felt her mom would never measure up to you. She wouldn’t be able to do half the things you could, no matter how hard she tried.

Winnie would say yes in a heartbeat. She was sweet like that- forgiving, forgetful. She was four, after all. But Rebecca remembered all those times she was scolded for just existing.

Give me some space, I need to feed your sister.

I’ve had a long day and you’re being too loud.

Just leave me alone for one damn minute, Rebecca!

But here now was her mom. Sitting in front of her, asking for another chance. She seemed completely changed.

Did she want to open herself up to the possibility of getting hurt again, or did she want to avoid it altogether?

Rebecca took a deep breath in through her nostrils. “Will you be nicer to me?” she asked quietly, immediately worried she would be reprimanded for asking.

“Oh, Bec,” Natasha nearly whimpered. Her daughter had just split her heart in half by asking. She was the one who caused this pain, not anyone else. Her own actions, her own behavior. It was her who made her daughter feel this way. “I will. I promise.” she said. It was all she could say. She’d apologized and received forgiveness, now she had to act. She had to actively make things better.

And more than anything, Natasha was willing to do that.

-

“Are we in trouble?” Winnie asked, hugging her legs into her chest on the couch. Instead of going straight into her reading like she was supposed to once they got home from school, Bucky asked for her and Rebecca to have a “serious talk”. She thought of every possible thing she could’ve done to get herself in trouble- did she forget to pick up her toys in her room? Did she unknowingly say something that wasn’t nice?

“Absolutely not, Win.” Her father said, easing her mind. Rebecca felt better too, having also believed she’d done something to get her in trouble. “But I do need to talk to you two about everything that’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Rebecca asked.

“You know- Mom being back. Having a new woman and two new kids around. I just want to make sure you girls are okay.” Bucky said.

Rebecca looked at her little sister. She knew that this conversation was mostly for her, not Winnie. She’d have the most to say. Winnie loved her new “siblings” and the fact she basically had two moms now- Rebecca was the one who’d seen it all. She’d been hurt the most, she remembered the most.

“I’m happy to see Mommy,” Winnie said, “I don’t remember her though.”

Of course, Rebecca thought.

“And I love Willow! We’re sisters, she said so. And Elliot is like my brother, that’s fun because I never had one before!”

Though she’d never say it out loud, Rebecca had to admit it at least to herself. Winnie had a point. She never had a problem with Willow, she noticed how close she was with Winnie. And slowly, she warmed up to Elliot. They seemed so different at first, and it took a while, but they eventually found out that they had things in common.

“Bec?” Bucky asked, “What about you?”

Becca took in a quick breath through her nose, gathering her thoughts. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I liked it at first,” she admitted, though a part of her immediately felt bad for saying it.

Bucky nodded his head, encouraging her to continue. Though he loved you, and you made him the happiest he’d been in years, he loved his daughters more. If you had said or done anything that made them feel bad, he was certain that infatuation would disappear. You knew this, and you hadn’t done anything that would deter them away from loving you just as much as he did.

“But I like that Elliot likes Star Wars. And I like that you’re happy- I like seeing you smile.” She said, “I’m pretty happy, dad.”

Nothing could have beaten that moment. Nothing in the world could’ve compared to the feeling Bucky had, knowing that after so long, his little girl was happy. That despite everything he thought, he was doing something right.

“I’m glad you are,” Bucky said, grabbing Rebecca’s hand, “I wanted to ask you two first, then I’ll talk to Willow and Elliot- especially Elliot- later, but I just needed to see how you two were feeling before I asked you a really big question.”

Winnie cocked her head to the side, “What, daddy?”

“Well,” Bucky started, feeling his heart begin to race. Why was he so nervous? He basically just got approval from his daughters. “I love how happy you two are. I’m really happy too. I’m so happy.”

Becca felt her heart begin to race too. Winnie was still too young to understand, but Rebecca was starting to get a slight idea of what her father was about to ask.

“And I want us to stay this happy. How would you feel if I asked her to marry me?”

-

taglist: @katzvelvet @melissad1974 @treatbuckywkisses @lcandothisallday @whatinthestyles @rebelliousburgeradvocate @prentisswrites @blue786sworld @lets—be-honest @stillthatbetch @seybox @danielle-leah1997 @buckybarnesbitch00000000 @glupolizam @livstilinski @5lutty5arah @whoreforbucky-barnes @multifandom-girlie @witchy-whore @jackiehollanderr @babebr @dearmasaddict @itsmeatballworld @bbgem329 @silentkiller2374 @stumbleonmywords @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @bitchacho25 @dreamerglassesgirl @rosepetalsinwinter @winterwhore @shytypeaq @spadessaga @foundinthefridge84 @rebeccapineapple @rosadiazsprecinct @mrsstan21 @sweetwerewolfqueen @enchantedbarnes @sophiario @pineprincess @sebsgirl71479

[wren-kitchens]

old feelings, new love

I just liked the idea lmao

“tango?” jimmy asks.

“mm?” tango looks up.

“can you feel that?”

tango frowns. “feel what?”

“it feels like.. achy here.” jimmy puts his hand on his chest. “I don’t know why.”

“yeah, i kinda can. maybe I pulled a muscle when I was building?” tango suggests.

“yeah, maybe.” jimmy nods.

they’re sitting on the grass outside their newly-built ranch. they’re watching the happenings across the valley. etho, joel, scar and grian are all on top of the pillager outpost. from the looks of things, they’re trying to use the pillagers as a defence mechanism, but it’s not going well. grian has an arrow in his eye.

but for some reason, jimmy keeps glancing down at tango. he doesn’t really know why, but he likes looking at him.

tango shifts slightly, leaning closer to jimmy, and the weird aching feeling gets worse. or, he supposes, better. it’s not a bad feeling, after all.

“woah, yeah, I think I sprained a muscle.” tango says when jimmy moves closer to him in turn. “that’s weird. I didn’t think you could sprain a muscle in your chest.”

“maybe it’s if you’re doing heavy lifting?” jimmy suggests. “i know i’ve felt this before but I can’t remember where.”

“probably.” tango says. “I did spend quite a while building.” he points out. “heavy lifting sounds about right.”

“you should probably rest then.” jimmy says. “sleep in tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t think that’ll be too hard.” tango grins.

jimmy laughs. “well, you never know with this server. someone could get a screaming goat right outside the ranch.”

“at least we could get horns then.” tango points out.

“ooh, actually that’s a good idea.” jimmy says. “why don’t we just get some goats and breed them? tomorrow, of course.”

“that could work.” tango agrees.

they let their conversation lapse into comfortable silence as they watch the other side of the valley. they’ve added a water stream and now there are at least five pillagers climbing up it. instead of doing anything, grian and joel are just watching them.

jimmy looks down at tango again, almost studying his face. he’s handsome, there’s no denying that. the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he watches the group on the pillager outpost flailing around. it’s weirdly cute.

“you know, apparently scar hasn’t realised he’s soulbound to grian.” tango says.

jimmy is glad for the excuse to look at tango. “hasn’t he? have they not been taking damage or something?”

“no, they have.” tango chuckles. “scar just hasn’t noticed.”

“i’d laugh, but it sounds like something i’d do.” jimmy jokes. “honestly, if we hadn’t found out so early on, I probably wouldn’t realise for ages.”

“i’m still sorry about that.” tango looks up at him. “I know you always die first.”

“what?” jimmy has to take a second to realise what tango means. “oh! tango, you don’t need apologise for that! it wasn’t even your fault.”

“I know, I know.” tango says. “doesn’t stop me feeling bad about it.”

jimmy puts a wing around tango in what he hopes is a comforting way. tango smiles and leans into him.

“your wings are soft.” tango says, rubbing his cheek against them.

“you feeling better?” jimmy smiles. there’s a weird feeling in his stomach— it’s familiar for some reason, but he can’t think what it reminds him of.

“of course i am.” tango says.

jimmy laughs as tango snuggles into him. “you’re fluffy!” he defends. “i’m allowed to hug you.”

jimmy puts his arm around tango. “i’m not complaining.” he says.

tango’s face flushes. jimmy supposes he must be warm with his wings around him.

they sit in comfortable silence for a little while. the pillager outpost has been abandoned by the looks of it, and the group has split back off into the soulbounds. apparently, scar still doesn’t know.

jimmy turns to the side to look at their ranch. the inside of the ranch is cooler than the outside, with slight draughts if you get too close to a wall, and there’s a distinct creaking sound coming from the tower above. jimmy doesn’t care. it’s home.

home.

that word is familiar. he doesn’t know how, but it has something to do with the feelings in his chest and stomach. they’re linked, in some way, and he has a very strong sense that he should be able to remember why.

he feels something around his waist and he looks down to see that tango has wrapped his tail around him. jimmy smiles, pulling tango closer to him.

“you comfy?” jimmy teases.

tango mumbles something that sounds like, “mhm.”

“aww, are you tired?” jimmy laughs.

tango nods. “can I sleep on you? you’re soft.”

both the aching in his chest and the weird feeling in his stomach intensify. “uhm- yeah.” jimmy says, flustered. “yeah, of course.”

“you sure?” tango asks. “it’s fine if not— I can sleep inside.”

“you can.” jimmy says. why is his heart beating so fast?

tango gives him a smile and rests his head on jimmy’s shoulder, closing his eyes. it doesn’t take long for his breaths to start slowing, and he soon drops off.

jimmy starts to stroke tango’s hair, watching joel building across the ravine. from the looks of things, he’s building a ship. away from the ravine with water in it. he isn’t entirely sure how to react.

he keeps falling off, and each time he does, he takes damage a second after the initial fall. one time when this happens, he grabs the communicator from his inventory and sends,

<smallishbeans> ETHO

<smallishbeans> STOP IT

a second later:

<etho> stop taking damage then

<smallishbeans> you’re gonna kill us i’m on one heart

<etho> eat

joel shoves his communicator back into his pocket and takes out steak, eating it in a very exasperated way.

“hi tim!” grian says, appearing in front of him.

jimmy starts, then remembers tango. “shh! he’s sleeping.” he gestures to the sleeping man on his side, like it wasn’t already obvious.

“that is adorable.” grian notes, but he speaks quieter. “so are you two dating?”

“what?!” jimmy’s voice comes out as a squeak. he clears his throat. “no, of course not. why would you even think that?”

grian gives him a withering look. “take a wild guess.”

“okay, fair, but still.” jimmy says. “we’re not dating.”

“would you like to be dating?” grian grins.

“no!” jimmy exclaims.

“okay, okay.” grian raises his hands in surrender. “i’m just asking cause this is how you acted around scott in third life.”

and oh. scott. of course.

how could he have forgotten? the aching isn’t a pulled muscle, and the weird feeling in his stomach isn’t the result of raw meat. he’d felt these things before, ages ago, with scott.

he likes tango.

“oh.” jimmy says. it’s all he can think to say. “oh no.”

“oh yes!” grian says happily. “timmy’s got a crush!” he says, singsong.

“keep it down!” jimmy says desperately.

“dude, tango is literally sleeping on you. with his tail wrapped around you.” grian says. “I think he likes you too.”

“well I don’t know, do i?” jimmy says. “i’ve never really talked to him before. I don’t know if he’s just cuddly.”

grian blinks at him. “you were here for last life, right?”

“I died, remember?” jimmy says, extending a wing. “canary and all that.”

“okay, well long story short, that’s not platonic.” grian says. “good luck, I only came here to scare you.” and he walks off.

jimmy watches him leave, then looks back down at tango, who is still fast asleep. he hesitates, then leans down slightly and kisses his forehead.

no one has to know.