#I might get whacked if someone read this but whatever

[everythingiloveblog]

That interview where Yinwar is like "Jack & Joker is not like other girls" is kinda rubbing me the wrong way

Like yeah, I understand the rejection of the term BL because why do we act like a show is a different genre just because it has a main romance with 2 guys? I do get it

But the way it was said was uncomfortably condescending(?), like I kinda hate it lmao

War: "I believe that shows should be categorized by their storyline and their narative style rather than by labels"

Then what is Jack & Joker? Apparently it is categorized as an action show...but didn't they go like 5 episodes (out of 12) straight without any fight scenes? And the episodes with it, it's like 2 minutes max of action in 1h+ episodes. I thought actions shows were shows that heavily feature action sequences in every episode...ok

War: "So I removed the label 'BL' so we can discover than a series can be anything"

Soooo, we agree that Jack & Joker shouldn't be able to be nominated for any BL related award then right? They should only compete with regular lakorn? Ok then

Yin: "I feel like for viewers looking for romance between the main characters, you'e come to the wrong place"

Now that's kinda funny, knowing that you said this is a show for your fans, knowing damn well 99% of your fanbase are fujoshis/fudanshis who are here to see Yinwar's romantic story after 2 years. And the majority of the audience for J&J are going to be BL lovers. And you also baited people with PromMark...Anyway, can't wait to see Yinwar play brothers for their next project

Jack & Joker feels more than a BL with themes of friendship, found family, second chances and greed. Was that a conscious effort, to break away from the usual BL stories?

Excuse me what? I have to laugh I'm sorry

Jack & Joker, apart from having a BL pairing participating in financing their own show, is not that revolutionnary

Also, how many BLs have Yinwar watched in their lives, I'm curious...

Sorry for sounding like a hater, but like...Oh you talked about friendship and poverty and forgiveness in your BL...good but...how is that breaking any barrier? I'm pretty sure you're not the first. I'm so confused. Is the fact that romance apparently isn't the main focus what makes it so groundbreaking?

I would argue HSF is closer to what they say J&J is. A high school Lakorn with queer romances. Because even without SaintShin (my fav married 'best friends'), HSF has canon sapphics (EveAiry). And I would also argue that they handled themes of abusive parents, betrayal-guilt-forgiveness-second chances, friendship, found family etc better WHILE nailing several well developped relationship dynamics AND the love between the 2 main male characters

[harrywavycurly]

What You Deserve Part 3: Start Small

Masterlist: Here

CW: Tiniest mention of your toxic ex

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies

A/N: You might be nervous but don’t worry Eddie’s got you also it’s a long one so I split it up into sections and it’ll make sense as you read, enjoy🫠✨

“Good Morning.” “Good Morning…uh you didn’t have to knock on my door you could’ve just honked or-” “honked?…sweetheart I’m not sixteen and running late to school….I’m here to pick you up so that means I knock on the door or ring the bell…whatever you prefer and walk you to my car.” “Oh…Steven just honks…it’s not that big of deal really if it’s easier than getting all the way out-” “it’s not your job to make things easier on anyone…especially Harrington.” “Sorry…I’ll uhm work..on that.” “You don’t have to apologize…so shall we exit the porch now or did you want to stand here for a bit longer?” “Oh yeah yeah we can go…holy shit is that your car?” “One of them yeah…do you not like it? I went with the one that has the smoothest ride…since I know feeling comfortable while inside a car is important to you.” “It’s so…nice I don’t want to like…get it dirty or anything.” “Sweetheart…it’s car…it’s gonna get dirty and that’s fine I’ll just wash it…trust me…there’s nothing you could do that I can’t fix…so please…get in the car.”

“Okay…” “Your coffee is right there…and feel free to change the radio to whatever you want.” “Thank you…oh you don’t care if I touch this stuff?” “Well you’re going to have to touch it if you want to change the station…” “I’m uh not used to being able to mess with the buttons in the car if I’m not driving.” “Please tell me Harrington-” “No no Steven lets me but him and I listen to the same stuff so it was fine…it was uh…my last uhm boyfriend he..didn’t let me control anything in the car.” “Well let’s get this out of the way now okay?…I’m Eddie…or to you I’m sure you’d prefer to call me Edward but either way…I’m not your ex…so whatever he was like and by the sounds of it he wasn’t a very…nice guy…so just know I’m not like him…so feel free to touch all the buttons and change the station..hell roll your window down if you want I don’t care…what’s mine is yours okay?” “Really?” “Yes..that’s a big part of this…type of relationship…whatever I have you also have…and if there’s something you want then just tell me and I’ll do my best to get it for you.” “Oh wow…okay…uh so when you say relationship what uhm…what would I call you?” “What do you mean?” “Like…when you drop me off today and someone asks oh who was that? Is that your boyfriend? What…what should I say? I can’t just be like oh that’s just my…sugar daddy Eddie.” “Yeah that’s sort of a mouthful isn’t it?” “I mean that’s uh just assuming you….you want to be my daddy…sugar daddy…sorry I’m just nervous and you’re…a uhm little intimidating in person but not in a bad way it’s…it’s like in the same way I’d feel around Tony Soprano or someone like that.” “Did you just compare me to a mob boss? That’s the vibes I give off?….if so then me and my stylist need to have a conversation about my wardrobe.” “You have a stylist?” “She does my shopping for me once every two months or so because I hate shopping for clothes….but Tony Soprano…really?” “I mean…you just look like you could easily have someone whacked with the snap of a finger and…yet you also look like you give really good hugs which is important because sometimes a good hug can just fix everything and…and you just…I feel…safe? Even though I don’t really know you…I’d trust you with my drink at a party.” “I’m honored that you’d leave your drink with me at a party and I’m glad you feel safe with me…but you make me sound like I’m some super badass dude…when I’m just a business owner who doesn’t have any mafia connections at all so no matter how many times I snap my fingers no one is getting whacked…” “damn..I was going to give you a list.” “But I have been told I give good hugs.” “That’s good…that’s really good to know….so uhm…how do we actually do this? Do I sign something? Do you want a trial run to see if I annoy you or not?” “I don’t need a trial run…also this isn’t fifty shades of grey I don’t need you to sign anything.” “You’ve seen those movies?” “No I read the books.” “Oh…you…you like to uhm…read? That’s…great.” “So why don’t we start small for now?” “Okay…what does that mean exactly?” “You let me take you to and from work this week and we can get to know each other more and…you let me buy you dinner Friday night?” “Okay that…sounds fine.” “And Friday over dinner we can discus what we both want out of this? Does that sound doable?” “Yes…that’s doable.” “Perfect.”

“Harrington isn’t even here yet and the store opens in five minutes?” “Yeah but that’s fine I have a key and can open the store up.” “By yourself?” “Yeah? I do it all the time.” “That’s…not safe…Steve should know better than that.” “It really is okay…oh are you going to see Dave today?” “I am…I’m actually going to work on him myself.” “Really?” “Yeah I figured he deserved to be worked on by someone that knows his life story…I’m gonna do what I can for him don’t worry.” “Easier said than done…” “I know…oh look who decided to actually show up to work.” “He’s not late so that’s actually good timing for him…so uhm I’ll see you later?” “Yeah I’ll be here when your shift is over.” “So uh have a good day Eddie…” “thanks sweetheart…tell Harrington to call me.” “Uh oh he’s in trouble isn’t he?” “No…not at all…” “what are you-” “you didn’t think I’d let you open your own door did you?” “Oh…uhm well thank you.” “Have a good day…oh and please don’t wait for me outside when you’re done working okay? I’ll come inside and get you.” “Okay…I’ll see you later then…” “Yes…now I gotta go but I’ll tell Dave hello for you.” “Thanks…for uhm…everything.” “You’re welcome.”

[selineram3421]

🎀

You're Off-key

Part 3

Part 2

Reader X Gravity Falls

Warnings ⚠

⚠ everyone is aged up, cussing, American healthcare, Ford being weird, Italics= thoughts ⚠

Hours had passed and Mabel wanted to know everything about you, her "new friend."

You told her your favorite color, desserts, movies, and so on. She had questions about questions and even more questions. It was almost never ending.

Thankfully her twin distracted her by talking about the other board games that you might be able to play.

"Or we could play a card game?", Dipper suggests.

"I am willing but I will have you know that I am terrible at card games.", you say as the two help you to a spare room upstairs. "Is it good or bad that I'm feeling a little light headed as we go up?"

"Aaand we should sit you down. Soon.", one of the two panics.

Mabel thinks it's a little funny. "How does it feel? Like you're floating or like you're weightless?"

"What's the difference!?", her twin asks as they both get you to sit down in the extra room.

"There is a difference.", you confirm as you lean back on the chair. "Floating is like back and forth, you feel it in waves, while being weightless is like you're in a void, nothing is weighing you down."

"....", the two stare at you as they try to process how you know that.

"Did they have Smile Dip?"

You wake up somewhat early, that being the ass crack of dawn and see a glass of water on the table nearby.

Sitting up to take a sip from the glass, you find a weird headset on your head and follow the wires, only to find Ford holding a little calculator like monitor at the end of it.

"Don't mind me, just reading your vitals and brain waves."

"AAAAAAAH-!"

You knew that Ford had a few screws loose but he was taking things too far. Even Stan gave him a good whack after rushing up the stairs with a bat.

Though, you did know it would happen, it was still kinda creepy.

"Even though it is great to be curious and have the need for knowledge, Great Uncle Ford must be put in time out.", Marble declared during breakfast. "You crossed a lot of boundaries."

"What is the normal amount of boundaries that are allowed to be crossed?", Ford asked.

"None.", Dipper said.

"Look, I can understand that you wanted to check up on me but with such treatment, it feels more like I'm a test subject than a patient.", you speak up. "Also, maybe you want to wait till I'm conscious to do tests like that. You'll most likely get better results."

"Better results how?", the older man asks.

"I'm awake to answer questions is how.", you say. "Also, I need copies of whatever you got from that scan."

⯅

"I call driving to the clinic!", Mabel says.

You and Dipper glance at each other a little worriedly.

"Ten bucks says you can't make it without pointing out cute dogs on the way.", you bet suddenly.

"Twenty for cats.", Dipper adds in.

"I'll take that bet!", she says and grabs the keys. "To the golf cart!"

A quick drive, some disco music, and a quiet Mabel, you all make it to the little clinic and check yourself in.

While waiting (for whatever reason), you look around and find an opossum playing dead near the blue couch you were sitting on. Mabel was trying to pet it and Dipper was pushing her hand away.

"No, stop! We don't know if it has rabies!", he whispered.

"Opossums are actually least likely to have rabies.", you say while reading some magazine titles on the book rack to your left.

"Ha!", Mabel laughs and pets the opossum.

Someone calls out your name and you head over. A quick scan, a questionnaire, and the doc tells you to take it easy for a few days.

"So.. you're telling me something I already knew to do?", you say.

"Yes!"

With a deadpan stare, you walk out of the clinic upset.

"The American healthcare system!", you shout. "WHAT A JOKE!"

"What happened?", Dipper asked.

"Did you get magical powers!?", Mabel asks.

"No. I got common sense told back to me.", you say with a sigh. "Let's run so I don't have to pay anything."

"You got it!", Mabel says and tosses the keys to Dipper. "Shotgun!", she runs off.

Thanks to that, which was nothing, all of you made it back to the Mystery Shack and you went straight to Ford.

Who was downstairs in the bunker lab.

"Ok old man, I need to know what that scan said and how to take care of my injuries. Please."

Ford was doing...something and gestured at the papers on his desk.

"Of course, the papers are over there. Just give me a minute."

Picking up the scan from the desk, you saw a bunch of zigzag lines and some notes on the side. The writing was a little hard to read but you managed to make some stuff out.

"Can't understand the static? What the heck is this?", you keep reading the almost illegible notes. "I'm just going to take a nap.", you decide. "Or read a book."

I don't want to know. You thought tiredly.

As you left, you didn't notice that Ford hid the scan papers in a folder.

*hides* Now I shall sleep.

~Seline, the person.

Part 4

Taglist@

@diffidentphantom @sleep-7372 @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mspurpl3 @gxstiess @lynkolnevans @fries11 @paastaboi @the-monochrome-jester @staygold162 @geckodarla @klwrites @alias-sam @eddwardtheseventhspacewizard @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @+?

GF List🏞 | YO-🎹

[kxosrexgns]

Jahid al jazirat aldaayiein . . . the infamous son of Jafaar

one of the first pieces of clothing Jay asked Evie to make him was an auradon high sorta letterman jacket with his tourney number and big letters on the back saying “of the isle”, showing that though he doesn’t like how things were on the Isle, he is still proud of how he got where he is/enduring it and getting past it.

has a severe problem with kleptomania. will steal stuff and won’t realize until he’s a ways away from wherever he stole.

only other VK ( besides Alina, yes i made an OC cause who's gonna stop me ) who can sneak up on Mal without her knowing/realizing he’s there.

part genie and doesn’t discover it until after meeting Aziz, Aladdin’s youngest son, and being told more about Agrabah and other stuff.

telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and snake shifting, to be exact. maybe teleportation i dunno

he plays the drums. he found out about them through someone on the tourney team and has been in love since then. he uses them as a way to release stress.

he’s low-key dyslexic or smthn. i could see carlos helping him a lot back on the Isle and just getting more help in auradon.

but, he’s also hella smart. like he’s very emotionally perceptive, despite growing up with a piece of shit and neglectful father. and he retains verbal quantitative information wayyy better than visual quantitative information

Jafar has tried to arrange marriages for Jay with those on the Isle who might be able to have wealth in Auradon, but it never worked out.

He's tried multiple times to pair Jay off with Mal.

pranks galore don’t get me started!

holds a grudge and is BIG abt getting his get backs man

he’s very persuasive, manipulation and reading people for the win, which is mistaken for flirting a lot. it is only sometimes true.

gets into fights for fun

is way more loyal than he’d ever admit. like. he’ll say he’s ruthless and does whatever it takes to get what he wants, but he’ll be the first to beat up someone who hurt his friends.

eventually gets a few tattoos to match with the core 4 & some for himself

is a member of a club/gc with other AKs ( and future VKs that come over ) that centers abt teaching the kids their heritage in/from agrabah

scarily good memory

everyone thinks cause he’s a flirt that his charm works on everyone but the core 4 are so tired of this agenda like bro-

carlos and mal especially. this two are so tired of his shenanigans and are very verbal abt it.

evie loves a good joke and likes to play along but carlos has definitely whacked jay with newspaper or smthn at least twice now T-T

able to lie to anyone but the core four

iago is loyal to him, and raised him more than his father

To Be Continued . . . if i decide to add more

[whumpster-fire]

Comin' in hot with some Wings Of Fire takes. Have only read the first arc so far so might be getting some things wrong because of stuff in later arcs but whatever.

I saw a YouTube video of Would You Rather memes for the series and one of them was something like "Would you rather be a Firescales or a red egg Mudwing" and the results weren't unanimously the latter so I have to point this out: Peril is legitimately disabled. Like, her condition is good in two specific situations: a fight to the death or if you need something melted, but otherwise her powers are actively detrimental to her quality of life because she can't turn them down enough to safely touch any flammable materials or other dragons. She can't sleep on a soft bed. She can't read from a scroll. Presumably she'd have to be very careful around grass or trees. She is clingy with Clay because he's literally the only person who can touch her without getting third degree burns. Even without Scarlett's abuse her condition would be incredibly isolating and traumatic to grow up with. It's basically the equivalent of if a rainwing had a disorder that caused them to constantly sweat venom out of their scales.

Speaking of Scarlett's abuse, uhh... not that putting any dragon in a gladiatorial arena isn't gambling with their life, but there's something extra cruel and evil about putting a Firescales in a gladiatorial arena because, like. There was no way for Peril to safely spar or playfight with other dragonets. Did she even have any training other than watching other dragons fight and maybe getting whacked with a long stick before she was thrown into a death match for the first time? And the only things she's actually immune to are breath weapons, and possibly Sandwing/Rainwing venom if her body heat just cooks it into uselessness. For claws / teeth / seawing tails / sandwing tail barbs her only defense is that nobody can hit her without getting hurt themselves and her opponents all know it because she's almost exclusively fighting dragons who've already watched her burn someone to death. But a dragon lashing out in panic or trying to escape being grabbed could still have easily killed or maimed her even if they only got one hit in before their brain registered the pain. Like, the injury Flame got from Viper. I have to wonder if Peril being Scarlett's unstoppable champion was really the plan from the beginning or if she originally put her in against a prisoner she really hated with the expectation that her opponent would probably kill her but then either die of their injuries slowly and painfully afterward or be guaranteed to lose their next fight?

Also if Peril was ever injured to the point of needing medical attention, did anyone even have a plan for how to safely move her? Let alone bandage or dress a wound or splint a fracture or stitch a torn wing membrane?

Other topic: Coral is not a good queen or a good parent, I'm sorry. Trauma over having her daughters repeatedly killed aside she had most of the dragons around her walking on eggshells because they could be murdered or imprisoned for failing, disobeying, or displeasing her. That is not a mark of a good leader. Maybe she was better before all the trauma but not at the time of Arc 1. Also Orca challenging her literally as soon as she was old enough and setting that statue trap going "You're going to rule forever, aren't you, Mother? You should thank me. No one can stop you now." is... giving me really, really bad vibes that something drove that child past the breaking point and even if she thought she could win the challenge she was ready to die rather than live under Coral's rule / parenting any longer. Also I'm convinced that the statue was not meant to kill Orca's own eggs assuming she won her fight, because if she wanted to do that she could have easily put it in the hatchery while she was queen under the pretext of "I want to make sure the first thing my children see is my face even if I'm unable to be there for their hatching." That thing was a Dead Dragon's Switch that I bet she either planned to deactivate if she won or programmed to have a different function if she won, like actually guarding the hatchery.

I really don't want to go here with speculation but given that Coral was canonically planning to marry Anemone off to a much older creep of a dragon... are we sure that this is the only time Coral did this? Because I'm just saying, I'm struggling to think of things that would make a 7 year old dragonet feel like she has to overthrow her mother or die trying RIGHT NOW and also create a machine programmed to murder any future sisters if she fails, and this fits horribly, skin-crawlingly well. Having a deadline to escape an arranged marriage that's set to happen very soon after her seventh birthday would give Orca a reason she absolutely could not wait another few years to challenge her mother, and believing that her mother who didn't believe her and refused to listen was dumb enough to make the same mistakes again with a future daughter would be a motive to turn from "protective of her siblings" to wanting her future sisters dead.

[twotonedhardcover]

this bfdi book askblog is run by @tapwater118, someone who enjoys book a normal amount. and this is the pinned post for said askbog! fascinating, truly

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

(relevant) book headcanons:

she/they transfem lesbian, will crush on any girl or girl-adjacent that so much as looks her way

bpd, but as i (the douchebag running the account) don't have bpd myself i will take care to keep this aspect tasteful (feel free to whack me upside the head if i do something dumb regarding this btw)

might have a little of the 'tism

living in the tpot hotel, post-tpot

reconciled with (most of) the rest of freesmart, they'll pop by occasionally so be sure to say hi

she likes games and geeky crap like that. dweeb.

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

no real rules for asks. magic anon, weird crap, weird weird crap, go for it. some responses (hell some of the asks probably) will be humorously suggestive, so be forewarned. i'll also not answer certain asks simply because i don't want to

book will answer asks like this! other characters may also have colored text. any post/response that starts with OOC will be ooc (duh). if your ask is ooc please state that somewhere in the ask so i don't accidentally respond to it in character

i'll sometimes make little doodles to go with the posts! not for every post/ask, because then i would throw myself off the hotel. think of the art as a little bonus treat on top of the green and blue polished turd that is this blog

kinda iffy on doing actual roleplay (which is why this is specifically labeled as an askblog), but the line between staying in character and doing actual rp can get kinda blurry so whatev

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

tags:

#book babbles - book just sharing her thoughts

#book banters - book answering your biting questions

#book bumf - info and lore about book and her pals

#book brushwork - doodles and the like

#book blushes - posts of the more shippy variety

#book buddies - posts with other characters (each also has a specific tag)

#reblooks - in-character reblogs

#ooc - ooc (duh)

#pinned - the thing you're reading right now, genius

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

and remember: this is all just for fun and games. let's keep it silly!

[steponmeinejghafa]

First Bench Pt. 3

Summary: You and Zoya meet for tutoring, and another teacher throws you both together again.

First Part

Second Part

———————————————————————

Six p.m. You dreaded the hour as it crept closer. Naturally not wanting Zoya to one-up you, you had arrived ten minutes early. The only table which wasn’t occupied was in a dusty corner at the back of the library, and you’d taken out your heavily annotated textbook to read before she arrived.

Someone whacked you on the back of your head, and you instantly snapped back to elbow them in the ribs.

“Ow!” Zoya exclaimed with a scowl as she sat beside you. “You’re a little savage, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, “Never do that again or I’ll personally make sure you can never walk again, Nazyalensky,”

“Whatever, Brekker,” she scoffed. “So, we’ll be covering math today thanks to your abysmal performance in the last few tests,”

“Don’t have to rub it in,” you grumbled.

She raised a brow and said cockily, “What, that I’m smarter than you?”

You clenched your fist underneath the table. She was getting on your nerves now.

“Did you come here to tutor me or to gloat?” You snarled, a frown scrunching your brows together.

You were adorable when you got riled up…

Zoya laughed cockily and shook her head, opening out her equally heavily annotated math book.

“Alright, Brekker, let me dumb it down for you…”

—Time Skip—

Kaz wasn’t getting any better, and the doctor was talking about another week of bed rest, since the fever your brother had gotten had made his leg worse.

“He says I have to use the cane more,” your brother confided that evening as you sat with him playing cards to keep him entertained.

You sighed softly and patted his hand lovingly. “It’s for your own good.”

“I know,” he scowled. “But come on. I’m in high school and I’m using a cane. Think of how I’ll be bullied.”

You shrugged, “I know a guy who can make it badass for you.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

You nodded and smiled. “Really.”

He gently punched your shoulder good-naturedly. “You’re a good sister, Y/n.”

“Okay, no need to bust out the compliments yet, little brother,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You’re not dying.”

“First of all, we’re twins and you’re like, twelve minutes older than me,” he rolled his eyes. “And way to ruin an emotional moment, dumbass.”

“I have the emotional capacity of a toothpick,” you admitted. “So expect nothing from me.”

As much as you hated to admit it, tutoring with Zoya was helping. You were slowly regaining your position at the top of the class, and, suspecting that Zoya might sabotage you in some way, you made sure to study extra after she’d leave the library for the evening so that you could get a head start.

Obviously you’d never tell her that it was helping. She’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Had fun struggling in the test?” She asked snidely, referring to the stack of test papers on the teacher’s desk.

“Had fun getting lesser marks than me?” You asked, picking up your own paper from the pile.

“Pardon me, but who’s the one getting tutored?” She smirked, holding up her history paper which bore the score 49/50 in bold red letters.

You laughed, mimicking her cocky tone as you showed your own paper, which had 50/50 written with red and a good remark from the teacher beside it. “Pardon me, but who’s the one getting a full score?”

“Fuck you, Brekker,” she grumbled, her ears burning with irritation as you went to sit with Jesper and Nina.

“In your dreams, Nazyalensky,” you cackled, fist-bumping your two best friends.

“You know, I’m sensing some sexual tension,” admitted Jesper, nodding at Zoya.

Nina chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah. The flirting is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Your ears burned with a blush as you shook your head. “Absolutely not! She is a cocky, arrogant annoying, and irritatingly attractive girl.”

“Attractive, hm?” Nina raised a brow, resting her cheek on her fist as she looks at you with a knowing smirk on her face.

You flicked her forehead and clarified, “Irritatingly attractive. Like, have you seen her? All sharp jawline, full lips and dark eyes. No one so annoying should have such attractive features!”

Inej and Wylan came up to you thee as they overheard the conversation,

“Do you like her?” Wylan hinted with a smirk.

You grimaced and fake-gagged, shaking your head. “Ew, I would rather die!”

“Sometimes, I wish you would stop being so delusional,” Inej sighed. “It is painstakingly obvious.”

You grumbled and buried your blushing face in your hands. “I hate you all.”

Meanwhile, Zoya was chatting with her own friends, Alina and Genya.

“Who does she think she is?” She glared at you as you talked to your own friends.

Alina shrugged, “Personally, I think you’ve got a thing for her.”

“Agreed,” Genya giggled, sitting on the edge of the desk. “Like, all you ever talk about is ‘Oh, Brekker is this, Brekker is that,’ or ‘You won’t not believe what Brekker did!’

Zoya let out an incredulous snort. “Me! Like her? Brekker? Absolutely not. I would rather fail all subjects and die!”

“Why is that?” Alina smirked, having spotted the lie.

“Well, she’s annoying, ridiculously cocky, and infuriatingly cute!” Zoya scoffed. “Like, no one should have the right to have such a smile when they’re the literal embodiment of irritation!”

“I’m sensing sexual tension…” Genya said in a sing-song voice.

Zoya shoved the redhead gently off her desk and mumbled, “You’re both idiots.”

The teacher came in and called for decorum, so the class settled down at last.

“Alright,” she said with a sigh. “Exams are nearly over, so I should brief you on your latest project. This one is worth 20% of your annual grade, so make sure your report is well done. I will be assigning pairs.”

A collective groan went through the class, and Jesper whispered to Nina, “Thirty vlachki says Y/n’s gonna be with Zoya.”

“I say she’s with Alina,” Nina replied.

“You’re both idiots,” you scoffed.

“Alright, you will all have to make a comprehensive report on any one nation in particular, mapping out every last aspect of its history. Simple enough?” The teacher asked, and the class mumbled in agreement. “Good because either ways I do not give a single damn. This is due in the next one week.

“Now for the pairs, Nazyalensky and—er—girl Brekker,” Jesper nudged Nina with a grin as she said it. “Starkov and Oretsev, Zenik and Helvar, Fahey and Van Eck, Ghafa and—well—boy Brekker?”

“I suggest you go with first names, Miss,” you chuckled, making the class hum with agreement.

“Fine,” she agreed, starting over. “Zoya and Y/n, Alina and Malyen, Nina and Matthias, Jesper and Wylan, Inej and Kaz…”

“I have a feeling she ships everyone with each other,” Nina chuckled.

You sighed in irritation. Zoya Nazyalensky of all people was your partner. It was like the Saints were condemning you.

First you have to be tutored by her and now you have to work with her?

After class, Zoya caught you near the lockers and said, “So, we have to work together now.”

You grimaced, “Yes.”

She chuckled softly and poked you with her pencil. “I guess I’ll have to make sure it’s good work, since I’m better.”

“Says the one who got a 49.” You scoffed, catching her wrist sharply when she made a move to poke you again.

She wrestled her hand from your grip and caught your chin in her hand, pulling you close.

“Gloat about that again, I dare you,” she hissed in a tone so menacing, you actually figured the consequences would be bad.

You giggled, however. “Getting riled up because you know I’m better than you, Nazyalensky?”

Her grip loosened around your chin as she caught your collar in her fists, her dark eyes glaring fiercely into your e/c ones.

Saints, she had pretty eyes…

“Shut up, Brekker, or so help me, I will make you fail,” she seethed.

“And risk getting in the bad books of Reznik?” you laughed evilly. “We both know you could never.”

She let go of you and scowled. “Tonight, six p.m. Keep your material ready and do not be late.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure my work isn’t as mediocre as yours,” you shot back with a sweet smile.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck you, Brekker.”

“In your dreams, Nazyalensky,” you chuckled and turned away, walking towards your friends who had somehow miraculously appeared there.

Jesper clapped you on the back and sing-songed, “Sexual tension…”

You gently elbowed him in the rubs and mumbled, “Shut up and go moon over Wylan, you dumbass.”

—Time Skip—

“Decided a country?” Zoya asked as she arrived at the library that evening.

You showed her your binder of resources as you said plainly, “We will do our project on Kerch.”

“Why Kerch, when Ravka has such a rich history?” She asked with a raised brow.

You grumbled and said, “Because Kerch is where we get everything from. We get our oil, our resources, our ships, our manual labour from there. Everything essential to run a country, Kerch provides.”

“I have to admit, Brekker,” she curled her bottom lip in approval, “I’m impressed.”

“As if your opinion means anything to me,” you kicked her under the table. However, some part inside you warmed up at her words.

Maybe it means something a little bit…

While you both discussed the topic, adding each other’s views and opinions while drafting, Zoya had to notice little things when you both would take long silences as a break.

She noticed the way you tugged at a stray lock of your hair, or how you began turning your wrists after a long round of writing.

Her favourite thing was when you’d spin your pen deftly between your fingers.

It had her mind going places it shouldn’t…

‘Stop it, Zoya,’ she thought to herself sternly. ‘You have to beat her, not stare at her fingers!’

Meanwhile, you noticed how she always furrowed her brows in concentration while she explained a topic to add in, or how she bit her lip if she was writing something down.

But, your personal favourite was when she’d make eye contact when you’d explain something, her head tilted slightly as she listened intently.

Insufferable as she was, she knew how to listen.

You leaned back in your chair and sighed loudly, rubbing your eyes tiredly. The clock had chimed ten p.m. it had been four hours of work, and both of you looked worse for wear. The table was piled with books, and you both had to scoot closer in order to work on the massive stack of pages which had the first draft of your report. Thirty two pages in four hours.

You wanted to collapse and fall asleep, but only after making fun of your partner.

However, you had to admit that Zoya with her wavy hair tied up in a messy knot atop her head, with a slightly sluggish smile of satisfaction on her face was…maybe a little bit cute.

“Take a break,” you said. “I need my opponent to be forever ready for battle, Nazyalensky,”

“You are insufferable, Brekker,” she rolled her eyes as she closed her eyes tiredly.

You chuckled and decided to draft a conclusion to the pair of yours’ messy notes.

Suddenly, you felt a bit of weight against your shoulder. You froze instantly, unsure of what to do.

It was Zoya, sleeping soundly, snoring a little with her arms crossed and her head against your shoulder.

The enmity against her within you made your skin bristle, and the urge to push her off you rise on your fingertips.

But something else, something a little stronger, pushed the feeling away and replaced it with the need to keep her peacefully asleep while you finished the work up for her.

You’d bully her about that later, obviously.

Zoya started awake twenty minutes later and immediately moved away from you, her cheeks burning red.

Did she really just fall asleep against your shoulder?

“Did I fall asleep?” She said, fixing her hair hastily, trying to regain composure.

You chuckled, “Looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake.”

She kicked you under the table and replied sneakily, “Working with you is more tiring than working on a farm during harvest season.”

“Oh yes, because I’m such a slow worker that I made a draft conclusion for the report in twenty minutes?” You raised a brow, holding the paper out to her.

She snatched it from you with a side eye and pulled the pencil out from her hair, making her chocolate brown locks fall down her back in slightly tangled but otherwise captivating waves.

She checked over the page, making a few changes here and there before she placed the page down with the others, sighing deeply.

“Well,” she said, as if the words were a massive effort. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s our first draft, idiot,” you scoffed. “We have to work on it more, so don’t get too excited. I’m still waiting for a better response to my hard work.”

“You did a page in twenty minutes, that’s hardly anything,” she rolled her eyes.

You leaned closer and cupped a hand behind your ear, saying in a tone as though you were prompting her, “Oh, thank you so, so much, especially for letting me nap like the little baby I am while you did the work…”

“Thanks, Brekker,” she sighed. “You are insufferable.”

“I’m not usually insufferable, but you get so easily riled up it is hard not to be,” you giggled, packing up.

You both reached the steps outside the library. “Want me to walk you home so you don’t get lost, little baby Nazyalensky?” You jeered at her, leaning against the railing.

She rolled her eyes and placed her hand against where you were leaning, pinning you, somehow, against the railing, saying, “Don’t get too confident, Brekker. Take me on a date first.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, as your slightly shyer side threatened to come out.

What was it with her and pinning you against things this way? Did she know how it made you feel?

You made a face, praying the dim light masked your blush. “As if I would ever! No amount of money in the world could make me do that!”

You consciously avoided her gaze, afraid of the feeling in your stomach. It was a knot of heat which pulsed when she tried making eye contact with you.

Oh, but how enticing that offer was…

“It’s Saturday tomorrow,” she said, grasping your chin between her thumb and forefinger to keep you from looking away. Her dark eyes locked on yours magnetically, as you felt that foreign heat travel steadily lower. “So I expect you to be here at four p.m, got it?”

Saints, she looked good up close, too.

You laughed nervously, and moved such that you got slightly closer to her. Your gaze skirted to her lips unintentionally, and your body was practically immobilised in a gay panic.

But, when her breath hitched and her dominant demeanour faltered, you laughed and moved away, bowing mockingly.

“And that’s how you flirt, Nazyalensky,” you smirked, thankful to your ability to get easily flustered for once. “Getting a little too obsessed with me, I see.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “That’s called wishful thinking, Brekker. As as if I would ever be.”

You hummed. “Well, you’re too annoying to be my type. So, wishful thinking on your part, really.”

“I’m too annoying? Brekker, you make a bratty toddler look like an angel,” she laughed humourlessly.

“Whatever, good night, little baby Nazyalensky,” you sniggered, gently punching her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck you, Brekker.”

Obviously, you gave her your standard reply.

“In your dreams, Nazyalensky!”

Zoya, as she walked away, mumbled to herself, “For now, dreams will have to suffice…”

———

WOW SO MANY UPDATES-

I hope you enjoyed this one <3 feel free to ask or request!

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sister Lovers, Water Brothers

Chapter Four: The Haunted and The Hunted

Masterlist

Steve wasn’t happy with the way Munson was treating one of his kids. So unhappy in fact, that he forces himself into their club leader’s van to see what he’s getting up to with Chrissy Cunningham, and maybe it’s a good thing he’s so paranoid because it might just save her life.

Or, the one where Chrissy doesn’t die in the Munson trailer, and, despite the world-ending, the king(former) and queen(current) of Hawkins High cannot take their eyes off Eddie Munson

Read on AO3 (content warnings in notes on A03)

Eddie didn’t know when he had fallen asleep. Sometime after The Hobbit had ended, Eddie put a random movie into the player, not really interested in whatever it was but worried about the silence. The sun had set at that point and both of them let their guards down as far as they would go. Chrissy didn’t object in the slightest when Eddie moved to lay across the couch, pulling her down to lie on his chest while the movie began to play. He had one hand propped behind his head, and the other rested on her back, absentmindedly playing with the hem of her shirt. She breathed slowly, comfortable on his chest with one hand behind the back of his neck, fingers deftly playing with the short curls at his hairline. He realized as soon as she fell asleep, her hands going still and her reactions to the movie completely falling away.

He wanted to stay here forever, it didn’t matter that Chrissy was someone else's girlfriend that some dark magic was after her, or that the whole town wanted Eddie’s head on a stick. He had wanted something like this so desperately he was willing to ignore everything else just to keep it. He couldn’t think of the last time anyone had touched him with any kindness or trust, it had been years of rough hookups and older partners hooked on drugs that he didn’t stay with for longer than a few months. But this was nice and he let himself relax into it enough to fall asleep.

“Ew! Oh my god!” Dustin’s screams woke Eddie and Chrissy with a jolt, the freshman slapped a hand over his eyes and turned away, “Ew ew ew! Get a room!”

Eddie groaned, rubbing his eyes as he tried to gain his bearings. Chrissy’s weight shifted awkwardly on top of him as she tried to sit up, also groggy and disoriented. She ended up sitting between his legs on the other end of the couch, one of his legs across her lap. 

“Henderson, Shut up!” Eddie yelled, throwing his arm over his face.

“Yeah Henderson,” Steve agreed, happy to be the one ganging up on Dustin for once, “shut…up.” the smile faded from his face, as he took in the scene before him. Both Chrissy and Eddie looked pleasantly rumbled, and though he was relieved to see they were both still fully clothed, it was obvious Chrissy had taken a nap splayed over Eddie's chest. “Dude,” he hissed, whacking him in the face with a pillow, hoping to distract from the embarrassed blush creeping up his neck. “Get up, the kids are here!”

Eddie threw the pillow back at Steve, sitting up and grimacing at the ache in his shoulders. Chrissy was pouting where she sat, trapped under his leg, clearly irritated about her disrupted sleep. Eddie took his leg off her lap, and much to Dustin’s disgust, gently reached up to fix Chrissy’s skewed bangs. Chrissy spared him a small smile and then halfway stood up to settle into the arm of the couch as she watched the rest of the group shuffle into the room, her eyes casting down when Nancy walked in last.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked Steve as she came in, looking suspiciously towards the two on the couch. 

“Fuck! Nothing. Nothing is going on.” Chrissy snapped before Dustin could answer, irritated at both the intrusion and the assumptions.

“Oh,” Robin said, putting her hands up, “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay,” Chrissy jumped in shaking her head, feeling bad about snapping at Robin, “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”

Robin accepted the apology easily, sending an understanding look to Chrissy.

“The real question is,” Eddie said, making Dustin drop the topic, “is what is going on with you guys?” 

“Did you not lock the door?” Chrissy asked absent-mindedly, still groggy.

“What?” Eddie asked looking up at her, confused at her train of thought, “Of course I locked the door. What are you-”

“The spare was stupidly easy to find.” Dustin interjected, speaking to Chrissy, “Genuinely shocked there aren't a hundred more people living here.”

Chrissy just nodded, she wanted to go back to sleep. 

“What’s going on?” Eddie asked Steve, almost desperate to get onto a different subject.

“Ms. Kelley wasn’t much help herself,” Max admitted, “But her office keys were.”

“She gave you her office keys?”

“Yeah, she just handed them right over.” Dustin snarked, “Max stole them, obviously.”

“Okay, well, damn!” Eddie said, raising his hands in defense, “I wasn’t fucking there. Sorry, I’m trying to avoid getting burned at the stake right now.”

“Yeah and cuddling with Chrissy Cunningham,” Dustin said under his breath.

Eddie stood up and swatted at Dustin with a throw pillow before dropping back down to the couch as Dustin darted away behind Robin.

“Anyways,” Max said rolling her eyes, “We committed mild trespass and privacy violations and found out that not only was Anne seeing Ms. Kelley, but so was Fred.”

“That’s the other kid who died right?” Chrissy clarified and then pretended to ignore the nasty look Nancy shot her.

“Yeah, Fred Benson,” Max agreed, “His file made it seem like he’d been going to Kelley longer than Anne did, but his most recent page of notes were nearly word for word with Anne’s.”

“Headaches and nightmares, right?” Chrissy predicted, swallowing hard, “Probably something about recent trauma, too?”

“Exactly,” Max said, looking at Chrissy sadly, “Just like you… and me.”

Chrissy looked up, surprised.  Max hadn’t mentioned the similarities when Chrissy explained her symptoms to the group.

“I didn’t want to make the connection,” Max said slowly, admitting to everyone and also herself, “And then I had a vision…”

“The clock,” Chrissy said, knowing exactly what Max was talking about.

“Yep, and,” Max stuttered, trying to hold back tears, “everyone except for you died within 24 hours of the first vision.”

“So we need to figure out why.” Lucas interjected, sounding panicked, and then awkwardly extending a hand out to Chrissy, “I’m Lucas by the way… sorry for being late to all this.”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” She shook his hand, “And I know who you are.”

A beat of silence while Lucas debated telling Chrissy about her boyfriend's violent breakdown, before he could say anything Chrissy continued.

“But I don’t know how I survived,” She added, eyebrows knitted together as she turned to Max, “There was so much going on. Steve was trying stuff, I was trying things while I was stuck in there, I don’t know which part of it actually pulled me out.”

“You’re not the only one to survive though!” Robin added optimistically, continuing when Chrissy looked at her confused, “Me and Nancy did a ton of research and the library's old archives, and it seems like Victor Creel was another victim of Vecna, or at least his family was.”

“Wasn’t that like 30 years ago?” Eddie asked, thinking about his uncle's ghost stories about the Creel house.

“Yeah, but if we can talk to him we can maybe figure out what saved you,” Robin told Chrissy.

**

Once Nancy had the kids squirreled away back to the Wheeler’s basement to sleep off the day's excitement, Steve was also feeling ready for bed.

“I don’t want you guys to be stuck here without a getaway car, with the whole Jason being after you, thing” he pointed to Eddie, apologetically, “So Rob and I can stay the night, if you think it won’t be too crowded?” 

“That’s… great,” Chrissy sighed, sounding less than enthused, “I just need sleep, so if you’re going to stay up…”

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Eddie suggested easily. “Stevie and I can scrounge up some more bedding while you settle in.”

“And what if I need my beauty sleep too?” Steve jokingly complained as he followed Eddie down the hall.

“Well then I’m sure you’ll be the gentleman anyway, and let the ladies relax,” Eddie smirked knowingly, before pulling open a linen closet to reveal empty shelves. He scowled at them as if they had personally wronged him, before marching through a door that led into what Steve assumed was Rick’s bedroom. Despite the man himself being missing, the room was an absolute mess. There were clothes carpeting the floor, books and magazines stacked against the walls in sloping piles, and Steve was doing his best to ignore the trash and dishes gone horribly bad. “Yeah, Rick’s not the neatest guy,” Eddie chuckled even as he cringed away from touching anything unnecessarily. “Can’t say I’m much better, but Wayne tends to get on my ass for the nastier,” he gestured to a pile of crusted and molding plates on the bedside table, “stuff.” 

Steve nodded, disgust clear on his face, but thankfully Eddie couldn’t see as he pulled open drawers and closet doors, searching for a clean blanket or two. When he spotted them, he let out an excited shout and pointed up at the top of the wardrobe over their heads.

Without really thinking, Steve leaned closer into Eddie's space, reaching over him to grab the stack of blankets. His other hand was boxing Eddie in against the door to the closet. Half turned around and now pinned by Steve, a look that Steve couldn’t read passed over Eddie’s face. Recognizing the position he’d put them in, Steve smiled down at Eddie, the memories of leaning girls against their lockers or his car coming back to him.

He didn’t really know if it worked the same for guys, or gay guys at least, but Steve thought that if their roles were reversed his heart would be trying to beat out of his chest.

“Uh… Harrington?” Eddie interrupted Steve’s thoughts, causing him to physically jolt back, taking the stack of blankets with him- or at least some of them. The rest of the stack fell over Eddie’s head, as they both scrambled to catch them.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve mumbled, embarrassed at having failed so miserably. He didn’t know what he was thinking in the first place. Guys couldn’t go around hitting on other guys like that, he knew that, but everything about Eddie made him want to flirt like he used to enjoy, used to be good at. Those days were long gone, clearly. 

They were trying to pull apart the stack held between them, laughing as they kept getting caught. Then somewhere in the tangle of fabric their hands met, and Steve thought he might have swooned if there wasn’t a part of his head reminding him Robin was just in the other room. 

Eddie’s hands were warm, Steve thought, then chided himself- hands tended to be warm, unless they were dead. 

The thoughts flooding his mind, about Eddie’s hands and how they’d look linked with him, were enough to send a wave of panic through him. Giving up, he bodily yanked the pile entirely from Eddie’s hands and hurried back down the hall to the girls.

In his wake, a dazed Eddie stood watching him go. He had no idea what had just happened.

**

It wasn’t late, but Chrissy couldn’t help how tired she was. She had been sleeping probably less than five hours a night the past two weeks, even safe at Steve’s house she had a hard time getting to and then staying asleep and she knew it was starting to have an effect on her. How couldn’t it, it was one thing after another and the way she was recently surrounded by a horde of people she had never associated with before wasn’t helping. It wasn’t that she disliked the group, or even that she didn’t trust them; it was the fact that she was the outsider. Eddie was clearly bonded to Dustin and apparently Lucas as well, and the kids were then connected to Steve and Robin and somehow also Nancy. Chrissy had gathered there were pieces missing, but in the end, they had connections, they knew each other, they had been through things together. 

Chrissy just didn’t understand, she hadn’t been around long enough to be able to. She wanted to, but she also knew that snapping at Robin probably wasn’t her best way in.

The boys had just left the room, searching for more bedding and letting Chrissy and Nancy settle in. Chrissy laid back on the couch, she tried to offer it to any of the others, but Robin refused saying she enjoyed sleeping on the floor, and Eddie just wasn't having it, “Ladies don’t sleep on the floor,” He had said, making Chrissy roll her eyes, but she wasn’t going to fight him on it, she was too tired too.

“Hey, Robin?” Chrissy asked staring up at the circular shadow the lamp next to her cast on the ceiling

“Hm?” Robin asked from her place on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, sounding sleepy already.

“I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier,” Chrissy said, resisting the urge to explain herself or offer an excuse, sorry was all she needed to say right now.

“Don’t worry about it, I could tell you were just overwhelmed,” Robin insisted, and then laughed softly when she continued “ Dustin and Steve together tend to have that effect, believe me.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to pick up on that,” Chrissy turned on her side, returning the laugh. “Dustin seems like a good kid, though.”

“Oh yeah, he’s the best,” Robin agreed, “Don’t tell him I said that, his head’s too big as is, he gets it from Steve.”

Chrissy laughed, and then out of curiosity couldn’t help but ask, “How long have you and Steve been going out?”

The groan that Robin let out into her pillow took Chrissy off guard.

“Me and Steve are friends,” Robin clarified, “just friends.”

“Ooh,” Chrissy was a little surprised by this, “I just figured…”

“Yeah,” Robin said, “You and everyone else. The truth is… me and Steve are just friends and that’s all we’ll ever be. I know how it looks, but there is someone else I’m… interested in.”

Chrissy could tell Robin was avoiding saying ‘in love with’, “I’m sorry, that was rude. I shouldn't have assumed.”

“It’s okay,” Robin said sincerely, “We’re used to it, trust me.”

“Yeah, I still shouldn’t have brought it up,” Chrissy insisted, and then, thinking of the incident earlier in the car with an eye roll and a laugh, added, “Really, I should understand given the comments I got today.”

“Sorry about Nancy, by the way, she was way out of line earlier in the car, I should have said something.” Robin apologized. 

“It’s fine, I know who Nancy is, it’s not that surprising.” Chrissy assured, Robin hummed in agreement, “And, just so you know,” Chrissy added, “I know what it might look like, but nothing is going on between me and Eddie.”

Chrissy could feel the doubt radiating off of Robin but was grateful she let it be. Just then Steve rushed back into the room, carrying an armful of blankets and distracting Robin. Eddie followed behind him.

“Hey Chris, watch this.” Robin said, leaning up on her elbow and looking up at Steve, “Stevie, how long have we been dating?”

“Ew, gross,” Steve sneered immediately, tossing the blankets down on Robin’s head. “Negative a thousand years.”

Robin and Chrissy descended into wordless giggles as Steve easily proved her point. Both Steve and Eddie began to settle into their spots, looking at Robin and Chrissy confused.

“We’re gone for not even ten minutes and the women have descended into hysterics,” Eddie said dramatically. 

“This one has always been hysterical,” Steve added, reaching out and hitting the button on the floor lamp, washing the room in darkness.

“Hey!” Robin faked offense.

“Shh, go to bed hysterical woman.” Steve joked, voice muffled by his pillow.

Chrissy laughed softly to herself, she liked these two and hoped that after all of this was done they’d keep her and Eddie around. As if he could hear his name in her head, Eddie reached up to her. She couldn’t see him in the shadow of the couch, but she felt his hand look for hers in the dark. Chrissy moved her arm closer, allowing him to easily pull her hand down to rest on his chest. He held on to her, rubbing soft lines across her palm with his thumb. She was glad he did, earlier today she had slept better than she had in weeks pressed against him.

Across the dark living room, Steve could see where their hands met. The embrace is only illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows. It was achingly sweet. Steve wanted to throw up but did his best to ignore the heavy weight falling over his chest.

Eddie deserved this. He’d seen enough these past days to know just how kinda, funny, and electric Eddie was. Steve would be happy for them he decided, because Chrissy deserved it even more, given everything she’d been through, everything she’d seen. He felt guilty for the burning need to steal Eddie’s hand from hers, or bodily pull him into Steve’s made-up little bed and not let her come anywhere near them. So he’d figure out how to live with Eddie constantly reaching out to touch Chrissy and the way his eyes went soft and sappy when he looked at her, and he would find someone else. Maybe someone he knew was gay, or otherwise interested. He’d gotten over Nancy, though that had more to do with how Nancy had treated him and could live through that sort of heartbreak again.

He rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut, blinding reaching a hand for Robin’s where it was already waiting in the space between them. Not wanting to wake her, he gave a gentle squeeze instead of the death grip he wanted and did his best to fall asleep.

*

The next morning Nancy called Steve over to her house, failing to neglect that he is being left there to watch over the kids because she had come up with some crazy plan to talk to Victor Creel himself, and needed Robin with her. He wasn’t sure that the girls were even friends, but Nancy seemed dead set on dressing up Robin in her clothes, and she said she was fine going along with it. 

When Steve suggested he go instead of Robin, he already knew what Nancy was going to say. He knew he wasn’t smart, at least not in the way Nancy valued, but he wished she at least considered him when drawing up her grand save-the-world plans. Babysitting wasn’t that bad of a gig, he just also felt that he was constantly being left on the sidelines. Yet here he was trapped in the Wheeler's basement with his ex-girlfriend and best friend and broke into Pennhurst Penitentiary to talk to a man who’d gone face to face with a demon and lived to pay the price.

As they tried to give Max her space, Steve thought about Eddie. It could be him next, locked away in the looney bin, spouting stories of demons and floating girls. His status of town freak would become a campfire story, no longer just a high school nickname. God, Steve hoped it didn’t come to that, for Eddie’s sake, but Max’s too. He couldn’t focus on the article Nancy had brought them about Creel. It was some crazy ghost story, about how he thought his family had been tormented by a demon.

“Okay, uh, you guys understand any of this?” Steve asked, interrupting his pacing.

“No,” Lucas threw up his hands.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Dustin said, as sure as ever.

“Oh straight forward really,” Steve quipped, before questioning Vecna’s timeline and motive. Even if Dustin was loath to admit it, what little information they had didn’t explain why he was killing again now. When Dustin floundered for solutions to the hole Steve was poking in their story, he sighed, “Straight forward my ass,” then turned to Dustin and gestured with Nancy’s magazine.  “Honestly, Henderson, a little humility now and then wouldn’t hurt you.”

Dustin sheepishly apologized, as Steve threw himself onto the couch between Dustin and Lucas. Sitting there, they all could see Max, writing furiously at a desk tucked against the wall. 

  “Any idea what she’s writing?” Dustin did his best to whisper,  “Did she sleep?”

“I mean… would you?” Lucas asked rhetorically. 

Steve winced. He knew there was no way he could relate to what she was going through, and it made him wish it was safe for them all to be at the boat house. Maybe she and Chrissy could talk more. It had seemed like they were getting along, and they both deserved whatever comfort they could find.

“I know you guys are staring at me,” Max called over her shoulder. Sending them into a flurry of motion, and talking over each other,

“What? sorry?” 

“Just hanging out” 

“You said you needed something?” 

Max just sighed at their stupidly caring nature as she collected the papers from the desk.

“How you think your eyes boring into the back of my head is protecting me from Vecna, I don’t know,” She admitted, coming to stand in front of the boys on the couch, but they were all too busy pretending to give her space. “You can look at me now.” 

They fell back into acting normal, if not awkward, with mumbled apologies.

She ignored them, and thrusted a letter in front of Dustin, “For you.” Then Steve, “for you,” and finally Lucas, “and, um you. Oh, and give these to El, Mike,and Will…if you ever get a hold of them.”

Steve looked at the letter in his hands, reading his own name scrawled across the envelope. A feeling he couldn’t name settled low in his stomach, but he went to open it.

 “What are you doing?” Max stopped them frantically, “No don’t. That's not for now. Don't open it, now!”

“Don't… okay,” Dustin relented, looking to Steve and Lucas for an explanation they didn’t have. “I’m sorry, what is this?”

“It’s… a fail safe,” She explained hesitantly. “For after if things don’t work out.”

“Wait, no,” Lucas argued, unwilling to hear her think so pessimistically “Max. things are gonna work out.”

“We saved Chrissy-” Steve started but Max didn’t want to hear it. Steve hated seeing her so upset, so untrusting of the world. He wished he had anything to offer besides the empty reassurances she’d turned away. Something had saved Chrissy, but they still weren’t sure what, and, as much as Dustin would have loved the idea, they were not about to start experimenting on her like some sort of lab rat.

“If we go to East Hawkins will this reach Penhurst?” Max asked, holding up Dustin’s walkie, uncaring that the boys were still reeling.

“Of course,” Dustin affirmed, and Steve really wished he hadn’t because that meant there was no arguing- his car and afternoon were forfeit.

Their first stop was Max’s house, and he couldn’t really find it in himself to complain anymore. She thought she was going to die, and if this was the last chance she had to leave something for her mom, who was he to deny her? That didn’t make him any less stressed, especially when they were back at the trailer park where the previous three attacks had happened.

“This better be fast, Mayfield,” he warned.

“Twenty seconds.”

Lucas and Dustin stayed in the car with him, none of them sure how to handle the situation. As usual, Steve takes the moment to make sure they have a way for Nancy and Robin or Eddie and Chrissy to reach them, which is met with Dustin’s sarcasm, but an affirmative answer.

Only moments later Max came storming back, obviously upset, and rushing them back on the road, ignoring Steve asking if she was alright.

The car ride was tense, but at least the radio was on to cut through some of the awkward silence between Max barking directions. She wasn’t responding well to any of their questioning, but Steve couldn’t stop from checking on her in the rearview mirror periodically.

When she tells him to turn into the cemetery, Steve cringed at the memory of the funerals he’s attended there. Barb’s was the first, and Hopper’s was the freshest in his mind, but he knew that’s not where Max was headed.

Lucas managed to talk to her for a moment, but then she was plowing on toward Billy’s grave.

Steve had gone to Billy’s funeral, had listened to the priest as Max stared blankly at the casket, her mother weeping loudly beside her. After the ceremony, he’d tried to talk to her, but there had been quite a crowd, with the town declaring Billy a hero and all, and only managed a quick hug and a few words of condolences. As the year dragged on, she started high school and slowly began pulling away from the rest of the party. 

They boys did their best, he knew, but there was no way for them to understand the strange mix of emotions Steve could only attempt to imagine. What he did understand was the strained relationship between her and Billy. They hadn’t wanted to be siblings, didn’t really care about each other in any one the way Steve thought family should, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t love there. That’s what Steve could understand, loving family despite all the hurt they brought, but Dustin and Lucas? He knew their parents, and sure they were emotional teenagers who loved to complain and talk back, but they were never alone, and never felt unsafe.

Steve refused to take his eyes off of Max, even as he could hear the boys shifting uncomfortably behind him. He could just barely see her over the slope of the cemetery lawn, sitting in front of a gravestone. His finger tapped anxiously against the open window as if counting down the seconds till he looked back at his watch and said,

“All right, it’s been long enough.”

“Steve,” Lucas argued, “just give her some time.” but Steve didn’t have time to give her, not alone and wallowing like this.

“I have, I’m calling it,” he told them, not stopping even as he walked backward, “If she wants to get a lawyer she can.” Not waiting for a response, he jogged over to her calling, “Max? Time to giddy up, yeah?”

She didn’t respond though.

Just like Chrissy in the car, her eyes were rolled back so they were all white and fluttering as if reacting to something Steve couldn’t see. “Max. Max.” he tried calling her, but it was too late, she was with Vecna, “Max!”

Suddenly, the boys were by his side, all of them shouting for Max to wake up, to come back to them, but it felt useless. They had no idea what saved Chrissy, and Steve didn’t think they could perfectly replicate that night in the van seeing as they were out of time. They needed to know whatever Creel had told Nancy and Robin. That was their best shot. He shoved at Dustin, yelling for him to get on the walkie. Steve and Lucas clung to Max, and Steve knew any moment she would start floating like Chrissy had, and there wouldn’t be a car to keep her down.

The longest minute of his life later, Dustin returned, dropping an arm full of tapes and clutching Max’s Walkman.

“What is this?” Lucas demanded.

“What’s her favorite song?” Dustin asked frantically, and Steve wondered for a moment if he was going crazy himself.

“Why?” Lucas continued to argue.

“Robin said if she listens…” Steve cut him off,

“There was music in the car,” He reminded them, “with Chrissy. Which one is it?” Lucas started grabbing tapes, reading their titles and tracks as quickly as he could with Dustin still yelling at them.

Holding the open tape deck, Steve took whatever song Lucas had picked, clicking it shut and pressing play as Dustin slipped the headphones over her ears. To their horror, she lifted from the ground a moment later, even as they could hear the muffled song playing. 

He couldn’t let this be the end.

Steve slipped the Walkman into Max’s pocket and latched onto her leg while she was still low enough to reach. Just like with Chrissy though, Vecna was stronger. Steve should have known he wouldn’t be able to hold on, he’d never been strong enough before. They’d always just barely scraped by, and now he was going to have to helplessly watch Max be broken apart by a monster they couldn’t even find let alone kill.

He couldn’t even look at the boys, He couldn’t-

She was falling, and they all moved to cushion her, leaving them in a pile of arms and hands desperately trying to ensure that she was alive

“I’m still here,” Max gasped, tears rolling down her face. “I’m still here,” she repeated as if unable to believe it herself.

Steve still felt like a failure, but he held onto her. Convincing himself if he didn’t let go, she was safe.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t keep any of them safe.

*

The kids were gone again. 

Steve could have gone with them to stay the night at the Wheelers again, but he didn’t feel like explaining to Mrs. Wheeler that he still wasn’t dating Nancy. At least that’s what he told everyone else, in reality, he would have liked to keep an eye on Max, but feel like he didn’t have any right to after not being able to save her once already.

Now he was alone. No, it would be better if he was alone so he could freak out in peace. Instead, the world’s cutest star-crossed lovers were sitting on the couch, doing their best to act innocent, and Robin’s parents had insisted she be home for once. So he had neither solitude nor his platonic soul mate, just the guy he was crushing on and his girlfriend.

Steve paced behind them, wishing he had just gone anyway.

“Jesus H. Christ, Harrington,” Eddie sighed, leaning his head all the way back on the couch so he was looking at Steve upside down. “Can you take a load off and at least pretend to watch the movie?”

“I- wh-you,” Steve sputtered but gave in with a dramatic groan. He came around the couch and slid into the remaining space next to Chrissy. She was cuddled up to Eddie, leaving Steve plenty of room to push away from them. “What is this shit anyway?”

“You’ve never seen Jaws, Harrington?” Eddie scoffed, and Steve didn’t bother to answer. He probably had at some point, but he could hardly pay attention to whatever was happening on screen and really didn’t want to think about a gaping maw of teeth coming for him. 

Sitting now, his leg was shaking the whole couch but the other two were kind enough not to mention it. 

Blood and screams on the TV sent Steve back into action. He could sit there.

“Is it freezing in here or just me?” He asked not to wait for an answer as he moved to the thermostat. “Heats on but, it’s like… 50 in here. Fuck, if the heater gave out…” Eddie was up now. He came up beside Steve to see for himself, but Steve was shoving away, rushing outside where Eddie wasn’t sure he could follow.

“Just wait here,” he told Chrissy, before leaving her alone on the couch.

“Steve?” Eddie called out as he stepped out the door. It garnered no response but he caught a flash of hair as Steve ducked into the garage. “Steve, what are you-” Not bothering to finish the sentence if Steve was listening. The garage was yet another space Rick had managed to cram full of junk,  claiming he’d put it to good use one of these days. Eddie didn’t believe it.

“Fuck, this place is a mess.” Steve hummed in distracted agreement, from where he was crouched beside the water heater. He was studying something at the base, intensely trying to root out the problem. “You know how this thing works?”

“What?” he looked between him and the system in front of him distractedly, “oh, yeah, it’s pretty similar to mine.”

“You know how to fix it?” Eddie asked, impressed.

“Yeah, just need… a lighter,” Steve said, leaning down to look closer at where the pilot light had gone out. When he moved to stand up again, Eddie was pressed in close to his space, holding his own lighter between them. They were just as close as they had been in Rick’s room, but face to face now. Their eyes met, and Eddie couldn’t help but think of the few other guys he’d been this close to. It had been in equally dingy settings, the bathroom of a bar, outside a concert venue tucking away in some corner of the city. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he was glad not to be the one shoved up against a wall this time before he remembered that wasn’t what was happening at all.

“No,” Steve breathed, his eyes darting away from Eddie’s pulling him back into reality and making him step back. “One of the long ones, or like a match at least,” Steve continued, but Eddie couldn't stop now that he’d started. 

Steve Harrington was nothing new to Eddie, he had taken over Hawkins High quickly, and been dropped just the same, but that meant there was no way to ignore him. He was the star player of the basketball, baseball, and swim teams so his face and name were hard to avoid, and so were the pictures they’d plaster all over the walls of Steve in his speedo, Steve sweaty and sprinting around the court, Steve in that god-damn baseball pants.

It was safe to say, Steve had been present during Eddie’s second, more male-focused, sexual awakening, but it had always been a fad- a face and a nice body. He was loath to admit that jocks were his type– apparently still were– but it was undeniable. Thankfully, Steve had been a total asshole so the little crush had been easy to write off.

Now, Eddie watched him. Digging through the shelves in his supplier's garage, trying to get the heat back on so they could sleep comfortably. That’s all Steve had been doing for days, keeping them all comfortable with a sweet sort of insistence. The two Steve’s didn’t line up in his head, and it was throwing him through a loop.

Steve came back with a skewer Eddie was pretty sure was meant for roasting over fires, and waved it in Eddie’s face where he had just been staring.

“This should work,” He told him, appearing much less stressed now with a task set before him. Eddie wondered if he ever relaxed. 

“Cool,” Eddie did his best to smile casually, banishing thoughts of his long-forgotten crush on Steve Harrington. Steve plucked the lighter from Eddie’s hand carefully, and crouched back down, fiddling with the valves and buttons, before lighting the end of the stick and igniting something Eddie could see well.

“Think it was just dirty,” Steve shrugged, blowing out the flame as he stood and dusted himself off. “Thanks for your help,” Steve teased, and Eddie instinctually snapped back, putting his hands on his hips in an imitation of the pose Steve consistently pulled on the kids,

“Hey! We can’t all be Mr. Mom!” Steve rolled his eyes with a smile and started back towards the house. “I’ve got your back if you ever have car trouble,” Eddie continued talking animatedly as he walked. “but housekeeping? Forget it.”

“Housekeeping?” Steve wrinkled his nose, “that’s more like clearing and stuff isn’t it?”

“You’re the housewife, you should know,” Eddie smirked, held the door, and waved Steve through with a short bow. He tried to deny it, but couldn’t put together a coherent word, so instead called to Chrissy inside,

“Heat’s back on, can you feel it?”

*

Chrissy watched as they left, the coldness of the room reaching her now that Eddie was gone. She shivered, standing up and walking to the kitchen. She was glad Eddie had rinsed some of Rick’s dishes earlier as she picked up a glass from the drying rack, even in the situation she would have felt rude rummaging through his cabinets. She filled the glass with cool water and took a sip, the metal taste of the old pipes strong. She hopped up to sit on the counter swinging her feet in boredom. She noticed a fat spider creeping across the floor, it seemed to come out of the vent. A spark of panic rose in her chest, but she settled it quickly. She had seen a similar one early in the day but Eddie was quick to acknowledge its presence, scooping it up in a cup and placing it in the garage. It was damn near freezing outside, critters were bound to come in, especially in an old house like this. 

It was barely a moment later that Eddie came back in alone.

“That was quick,” She remarked, setting her glass down next to her as he walked towards her in the kitchen, “All fixed?”

“Steve’s still working on it,” Eddie said, stopping directly in front of her, “Not really a two person job.”

Chrissy nodded in understanding as Eddie got closer to her, moving to stand between her knees. She was a little surprised at his boldness as he wrapped an arm around her torso and buried his head in her neck, especially with Steve just in the other room.

“Everything okay?” She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder and putting a hand on his back, suddenly worried about him.

“Mhm,” He hummed, “Just tired.”

“We can go to bed soon,” Chrissy told him, gently messing the ends of his hair. 

“You want to go to bed with me?” He asked, tightening his grip on her waist.

“What?” The way he said it made Chrissy aware he was talking about something aside

from sleeping, “What, no, not like that.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pressing himself closer against her, “because you’ve been acting like a whore since I met you.”

Chrissy gasped, shoving him away hard as she hopped off the counter, making him take a few stumbling steps back. He raised his hands in defense, his voice full of bite when he spoke, “Come off it Chrissy, don’t act like it’s not true.”

“Eddie!” She cried, shocked at his sudden switch in behavior, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You’ve been throwing yourself at me like a dog in heat,” Eddie growled, “And now that I’m here, you're mad?”

“Fuck you, man,” She tried to sound tough, but the tears in her eyes ruined it, “I have a boyfriend and you know that.”

“Yeah, well, does he know his girlfriend is slutting herself around trying to score drugs.” Eddie scoffed.

Chrissy slapped him hard across the face, tears blurring her vision as she threw a punch into her shoulder, heartbreak turning her violent.

Eddie just laughed at her as she hit him,

“Why do you even try, Chrissy?” Eddie’s voice began to distort, Chrissy’s heart pounding as, through blurred tears, his image did as well, “You’ll always be the same.”

Vecna was standing in front of her in the kitchen now. Chrissy couldn’t do anything, she just cried, covering her eyes with her hands and pleading, “No, no, no…” 

“Chrissy?” Steve called, but no response came. “Chrissy?”

He found her standing in the kitchen sobbing, both hands over her face as she stood there and shook. 

Eddie was only a step behind him, pushing past Steve in a panic to get to Chrissy.

She jumped as he tried reaching out for her, taking a big step backward.

“No, stop!” She shouted, putting a hand up to keep him away.

“What?” Eddie asked, confused as to what was happening, “Are you okay? Chrissy, what’s going on?”

“No, no no no- you weren’t” She babbles incoherently, holding her hands to her chest and shaking, “The spider. It- it was him. You said you were real…you promised.”

She sunk down to the ground, sobbing as she reached the floor, her hands over her face. Eddie stood there, heartbreaking as he watched her be afraid of him. Steve took a step in front of him, gently setting a hand on Chrissy’s shoulder, trying to calm her down.

“What… What's going on?” Eddie’s voice broke, he cleared his thoughts and tried again, “Harrington what is happening?”

“She’s still cursed,” Steve explained, trying to get Chrissy to look at him, “Eddie, I think you should go. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Eddie stopped for a moment, not wanting to go but not wanting to upset her anymore. He turned and practically bolted out the back door. With Eddie gone, Steve tried again to deal with Chrissy.

“Hey, Chrissy, he’s gone,” Steve tried, “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

He could tell she was trying to calm down, she wiped at her face, crying turning into hiccups.

“We just want to help,”  Steve put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently, “Was it him? Was it Vecna?”

Chrissy let out another sob, nodding at him, “It…it was Eddie,” She spoke weekly, falling against Steve, she cried into his shoulder, soaking his shirt.

“Hey,” He tried to shush her, “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay now, we’re real I promise.”

Chrissy flinched away from his words, “You can’t promise that.” She snapped, sitting back on her heels,“He promised and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t real.” 

Chrissy stood up, trying to stop the silent tears that wouldn’t stop falling. She walked in the living room, unsure of what to do, but knowing she didn’t want to interact with anyone right now. If she didn’t talk to anyone, he couldn’t trick her. She grabbed the folded blanket and pillow she had used last night on the couch and walked to the far side of the living room, trying to get as far as she could from where the boys would sleep. She wrapped the blanket around her entire body, dropped the pillow and laid on the hardwood floor, facing the wall. She cried into her pillow, stifling the sound and ignoring the way her joints pushed into the floor. 

Steve crept towards Chrissy, but before he even made it out of the kitchen stopped in his tracks. He could hear her crying, and make out her form curled up on the floor, tucked away. She obviously didn’t want to be near them, so he figured it was best to give her space. 

Eddie on the other hand was pacing quickly back and forth just outside the back door. Steve looked around, flipped on the radio sitting on the counter, and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. He headed out the back door, almost hitting Eddie with it. Eddie looked up at him with wide watery eyes, pleading silently for some news.

“We’re not going anywhere, just outside,” Steve called back inside, not breaking eye contact with Eddie. Chrissy didn’t respond, but the music was on and Steve could still make out faint sniffing.

Stepping fully out into the cool night air coming in off the lake, he let the door slide shut behind him. He sighed heavily,and dropped down onto the back steps. Eddie took the hint and sat back down next to him, leg bouncing anxiously.

“Is she okay?” Eddie asked, obviously trying and failing to hold it back.

“Yeah, man I think she’ll be okay,” Steve said, “just…messed up right now.”

“I promised her-” Eddie choked on a breath, refusing to let himself cry when he’d obviously done something wrong.

“You couldn’t have known,” Steve told him, “If Venca’s after her again… all we know, all we can promise is to do our best to stop him.” Eddie nodded aggressively, but he still couldn’t look at Steve. “We’ve got the music now,” he said looking for something positive, “and we can find her favorite tapes, I’ve got another Walkman at home. She’ll be safe.”

“But you can’t know that!” Eddie shouted, tears streaming down his face despite his best efforts. “I- I told her she’d be safe, an-and he got her again!” Realizing how loud he was being, Eddie dropped his head between his knees, muffling his next words. “She could have died, Steve. She could have died and I wasn’t there.”

Steve looked out over the still lake. It was perfectly smooth and reflective, showing all the trees stretching down instead of up, warping as they drew into the center. Some other houses along the water line had lights that shone like stars up from the water. It was a beautiful night. It tasted sour in Steve’s mouth.

He lit up a cigarette. Eddie lifted his head at the sound of the lighter and nodded toward it once Steve took a drag. He passed it over.

“Max floated,” Steve said simply as if there was anything simple about this. “At least twice my height over my head.” Eddie looked at him in abject horror, the cherry glowing red as it dangled uselessly between his fingers. “There wasn’t anything I could do. I thought of lifting up one of the kids. Trying to get a hold of her… but it was too far. We never would have reached her.” 

Steve stole back the cigarette. Eddie watched as he calmly pulled air through it, and blew out smoke. He looked relaxed. He looked empty. 

“I couldn’t have done anything. If the music hadn’t worked…” Steve shook his head. “but it did, and that had to count for something, right?” Pulling away from the mirage of the lake, Steve looked to Eddie, only to find him already watching back. “We were there.”

“That’s all I can do?” Eddie laughed, feeling scared and useless. “Be there? What good am I in the face of a dark wizard?!”

“I don’t know man,” Steve shrugged. “You've probably fought more dark wizards than the rest of us.” Eddie stared at him blankly. “You know? In your game? Dungeons and Demogorgons, or whatever?”

He couldn’t help but burst out into full-bellied laughter, and then quickly dissolved into tears, falling against Steve's shoulder. An arm came up to wrap around him, heavy and grounding as he fell to pieces against Steve's chest, not noticing the silent tears Steve kept wiping away or the forgotten cigarette beginning to burn his fingers.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 5: Nightmares Walking

Or uh, riding, since that's what my picture has. Alas. Anyway you know the drill by now I'm sure, spoilers for anything and everything under the sun in this post, especially The Wheel of Time since that's what I'm rereading.

This chapter has the Trolloc triptych because we're getting a Shadowspawn attack.

He opened his mouth to shout warning, and suddenly the door of Moiraine’s hut burst open and Lan dashed out, sword in hand and shouting, “Trollocs! Wake, for your lives! Trollocs!”

Perrin, with the magical help of an entire pack of wolves, is only ALMOST as fast to respond to a crisis as Lan. That man's real fucking badass, y'know? (But also: Perrin is fighting his powers every step of the way and Lan's got two decades of experience with his own supernatural aid. It's only a matter of time before Perrin makes Lan look like the chump.)

The Tuatha’an woman pressed her back against the log wall, a hand to her throat. The light from the burning trees showed him the pain and horror, the loathing on her face as she watched the carnage.

I was just reading some stuff iliiuan had to say on the Tuatha'an before I got into this chapter so let me just note: Leya's priorities are all out of whack here if Perrin's reliably relating her emotions. She's not keeping herself safe, she's just being judgy about violence happening in her vicinity. And it kills her.

All that mattered was that he had to reach Leya, had to get her to safety, and the Trolloc was in the way.

Perrin's desperation to do the right thing even though of course he could easily write Leya off as an inevitability (and an inconvenience until the inevitable happens to boot) is why he's a hero, you know? I'll be giving this boy the most shit out of anyone but he tries to save someone's life even though he knows he can't and that's something.

The stink of it filled his nostrils, goat-stench and sour man-sweat.

It's good to know that Trollocs produce all the scents available to them instead of just limiting themselves to one or the other. And by good I obviously mean gross, but since I read it you have to too!

She was still there, huddled in front of the hut, not more than ten paces upslope. And watching him with such a look on her face that he could barely meet her eyes.

Leya's zealotry may be a formative trauma for Perrin I think.

Suddenly Leya moved, throwing herself forward, attempting to wrap her arms around the Myrddraal’s legs.

Well that's great and all Leya but isn't restraining someone so they can't move a very light form of violence? Like good... well good may be strong, but some kind of positive adjective... effort trying to protect Perrin and all but if you tripped the Fade isn't that causing it physical harm? Where is the line for the Tuatha'an? Did she in the last moment of her life betray her own beliefs for nothing? Concerning if so.

“Fade,” Perrin said roughly, but then a different name came to him, from the wolves. Trollocs, the Twisted Ones, made during the War of the Shadow from melding men and animals, were bad enough, but the Myrddraal—. “Neverborn!” Young Bull spat.

Half the reason we don't get Rand POVs much in this book is that Perrin's stealing his TGH schtick of losing himself in his newfound powers. I think this is something of a leftover from the proto-Tam character who was going to be Jesus AND the luckiest SOB ever AND a werewolf AND probably a really good shot I guess or whatever that fourth kid was supposed to contribute. Being easily replaceable, maybe?

The urge to rush down the slope and join his brothers, join in killing the Twisted Ones, in hunting the remaining Neverborn, was strong, but a buried fragment that was still man remembered. Leya.

Perrin will of course spend this book (and the next... ten?) afraid that he might turn into a werewolf forever because of an encounter, but we see right here that this isn't a risk for him because he's always got stuff to pull him back. Leya's barely in the list of ten most recent people he talked to but he won't abandon his humanity for her sake - how much less likely is he to abandon it once he's got Faile?

He no longer thought of the greater battle. There was only the Trolloc he and the wolves—the brothers—cut off from the rest and brought down. Then there would be another, and another, and another, until none were left. None here, none anywhere.

Obviously this is a terrible viewpoint to adapt if you're trying to be the strategy guy, but since Perrin isn't that anyway and the battle isn't reliant on such things, it actually works for him here. He's also more aware of himself than he was with the Whitecloaks, showing he's developed a little with his powers even if he's afraid of them.

Young Bull threw back his head and howled with her, mourned with her. When he lowered his head, Min was staring at him. “Are you all right, Perrin?” she asked hesitantly.

Note that while Min's obviously freaked out by Perrin embracing his inner furry, she's not exactly treating him like a freak show either. Like I said, she'd probably be very supportive if she knew the details.

Frantically he walled himself off from contact with the wolves. Images seeped through, emotions, as he tried to stop them. Finally, though, he could no longer feel them, feel their pain, or their anger, or the desire to hunt the Twisted Ones, or to run. . . .

Again we can kind of see how the proto-Tam's various aspects would have tied into a central character arc, with rejecting the naturalistic wolf expression being just one more way he would have been hardening himself and just one more thing he'd need to embrace to be the full hero at the end.

The Shienarans still standing—so few—lifted their blades and joined him. “Tai’shar Manetheren! Tai’shar Andor!”

Hell, even the Shienarans aren't that judgmental since they are already following Rand around.

But when he was with the wolves, it was all so different. He did not have to worry about strangers being afraid of him just because he was big, then. There was no one thinking he was slow-witted just because he tried to be careful. Wolves knew each other even if they had never met before, and with them he was just another wolf.

Is it wrong that occasionally I think Perrin might be a little bit on the spectrum?

“A sign to confirm our faith. Even wolves came to fight for the Dragon Reborn. In the Last Battle, the Lord Dragon will summon even the beasts of the forest to fight at our sides. It is a sign for us to go forth. Only Darkfriends will fail to join us.”

Masema is of course foreshadowing his delightful nonsense, showcasing how he was still corrupted by Fain, and letting Jordan make it subtly clear that the real Last Battle will be more complicated. It's not just Darkfriends who won't be on the side of the Light, even at the very end.

Do you know what I did during the fight?” Still staring into the distance, Rand addressed the night. “Nothing! Nothing useful. At first, when I reached out for the True Source, I couldn’t touch it, couldn’t grasp it. It kept sliding away. Then, when I finally had hold of it, I was going to burn them all, burn all the Trollocs and Fades. And all I could do was set fire to some trees.”

Rand's an incredible channeler, but even he needs a teacher.

“We . . . dealt with them, Rand,” Perrin said. He shivered, thinking of all the wounded men down below. And the dead. Better that than the mountain down on top of us. “We didn’t need you.”

And likewise, in the final conflict, no one will be needing Rand to deal with the individual Shadowspawn and even if he could deal with them to keep the people alive it would be a waste of everyone's time.

There had been a man, Elyas Machera, who also could talk to wolves. Elyas ran with the wolves all the time, yet seemed able to remember he was a man. But he had never told Perrin how he did it, and Perrin had not seen him in a long time.

Sorry Perrin, but he doesn't really pull it off anywhere near well enough for your standards.

He gasped and almost dropped his axe. He could feel the skin on his back crawling, muscles writhing as they knit back together. His shoulder quivered uncontrollably, and everything blurred. Cold seared him to the bone, then deeper still. He had the impression of moving, falling, flying; he could not tell which, but he felt as if he were rushing—somewhere, somehow—at great speed, forever.

Another reminder that the best modern Aes Sedai have for healing at this point is emergency care, which works but definitely isn't the good stuff. Moiraine even tells him to eat afterward.

“Most of the wolves who were hurt made their own way to the forest,” Moiraine said, knuckling her back and stretching, “but I Healed those I could find.” Perrin gave her a sharp look, yet she seemed to be just making conversation. “Perhaps they came for their own reasons, yet we would likely all be dead without them.”

Moiraine is nice enough to try and thank Perrin subtly, but of course he's much too suspicious for any of that.

“If you could get me to Shayol Ghul now,” Rand said drowsily, “by Waygate or Portal Stone, there could be an end to it. No more dying. No more dreams. No more.”

It would obviously have a terrible ending, but a fanfic of Moiraine somehow taking sleep-deprived Rand to Shayol Ghul and just kind of hoping for the best would be hysterical. This Rand might not be as traumatized as he's going to be, but I still think assuming he'd last five minutes before agreeing to let the Dark One unmake reality is overly generous.

“That’s right,” Rand said bitterly. “I’m not to be trusted. Lews Therin Kinslayer killed everyone close to him. Maybe I’ll do the same before I am done.” “Pull yourself together, sheepherder,” Lan said harshly. “The whole world rides on your shoulders. Remember you’re a man, and do what needs to be done.”

If Perrin or Mat had tried sassing Lan like this they would have learned what their pancreas looked like once chopped in half before finishing the second sentence, so while Lan's toxic masculinity is of course only adding to the Dragonmount of psychological issues Rand's going to need to deal with, let's also reflect that it's still him going easy on his favorite boy.

Next time: Ingtar leads the crew out of Fal Dara, Rand finds out Moiraine fucked with his belongings again, and Lanf--

Wait no. Sorry. That was LAST book's chapter "The Hunt Begins". Next time we read THIS book's version, which probably has a lot less Ingtar due to his having a prior commitment. Also much less Rand on account of his running away.

[lu-sn]

thank you @veliseraptor for tagging me ❤️ i had a lot of fun with this one

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

--

first fic ever published: prickly hearts

my beloved!!! this story is extra funny to me because before this i was all "it would be hubris to try to write vp they're too NUANCED i'll mess them up" and then the ghost of khun spikes whacked me on the head with a crackfic idea and the rest is history

last fic published: warm-blooded

cue me from almost exactly a year ago telling my roommate i could "never write porn" skjdfksadfkjhdsfjkhf where's my clown nose

any fic i wrote for a ship only once: press F to pay respects

my one and only kinn/porsche fic. but the real crime here is that it's my one and only macau & chay fic 😭 I'LL GET TO IT ONE DAY

favorite fic for ship with most works: you can't make me choose

i love so many of them! and i'm fond of them for different reasons, so it's really hard to pick one over the rest. breathtaking might be some of my best writing. vivace has characterization i'm very happy with, and i'm proud that i managed to do that while keeping it lighthearted. but if we're talking favorite fic for me to read... god this is hard!!!!! i love reading my funnier stuff. so maybe it really still is prickly hearts

fic i wish more people read: have u heard of the f/f vp agenda–

here is my running theory: if more people read f/f vp then more people will write it and then there will be more of it for ME to read. this is a flawless plan. i will take no criticism

fic i agonized over the most: [redacted]

i could pick a published fic for this but i don't tend to agonize too much over oneshots when i'm writing them and anyway you could add up all of the agony over all of my published fics and it would not even be 1/100th of the agonizing i am doing over my current wip. longfics SUCK. "it'll just be 3 chapters that's not so bad" "ah shit this wasn't in the outline" "why does the halfway mark keep getting FURTHER away" 0/10 would not recommend i am blinking twice please airlift me out of here

fic that sprang fully formed from my mind: blindside

this is kind of a stretch in that i had had a couple of stray macau thoughts hanging around my head for months. things like "macau goes off at korn and it's heartwrenching and futile and pete has to drag him away" or "pete and macau have a days-long staring match over vegas's comatose body" but let's be real it was mostly a giant metaphorical whiteboard in my brain with the words "PETE AND MACAU????!!!" written on it and underlined six times. it didn't coalesce into "pete holds a gun to macau's head and it somehow ruins all of korn's plans" until i was standing in the middle of a crosswalk on my way home going oh my GOD THAT WOULD BE INSANE PETE WOULD BE THAT INSANE!!!! then i blacked out and it was written

work i am proud of: reignite

i reread this recently and it reads like it was written by someone who was not me. i would not in a million years have imagined i was capable of writing like that. so i love it very much, and i feel like i did namphueng justice, and she fucking deserves it.

--

hmmm tagging @ghost--houses and @fanonplussed and @magicaldreamfox1 if you're feeling it!

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 123 - Feels Like Home

It's a new day in the Lemon house and Ophelia makes lunch while Xander plays with the kids.

She's enjoying her hiatus. She's making good money from royalties, plus she can still perform at The Lemon Drop when she wants to. Her boss is really flexible 😉

Meanwhile, the kids are deciding what to play.

Gemma: We can play pretend in my tent! Daddy's real good at playin' pretend.

Huh? Since when do daddies play pretend? Daddies just do paperwork and scold you. Jaden's a little confused. Everything is so different here.

Xander: You're the guest, carrot top. Whatever you want, we'll do.

Jaden quickly gets over his aversion. Guess there are different kinds of daddies. This one's a fun daddy!

Jaden: Play tent!

Xander: Alright, hop in!

This might look like a play tent, but it's actually a spaceship! Gemma's walking on the moon and Jaden is on the lookout for aliens.

Looks like Xander will be playing the role of alien today.

I'll give him this, Xander is a very convincing alien.

Xander: OOGA BOOGA BOOGA!

The kids squeal, scurrying out of their ship. Not the best move to avoid space aliens, gang. Gemma gets attacked by the alien! Looks pretty fun, if you ask me.

Jaden watches in awe as Xander spins and throws Gemma around. It looks like they're having a lot of fun playing together. Jaden can never get his daddy to play with him. Gemma's daddy seems to actually enjoy it, too.

After Xander sets his daughter down, he sees Jaden timidly approaching him.

Jaden: Um, Mr. Xander, could I be 'tacked by space aliens too?

Xander lets out a chuckle. He's a little out of breath but how can he say no to that face?

Xander: Of course, bud.

Jaden: Yay!

The two start roughhousing just in time for Ophelia to come out and check on them. Jaden's shrieks of joy warm her heart. It's better than his shaky little sobs yesterday. They always liked Jaden, but spending more time with him, he's really toddled his way into their hearts.

Jaden wants to hear a story, but Gemma's too fired up from playing to sit still. She runs around the house while Jaden sits quietly and listens to Ophelia read him the book he picked out. They've got lots of princess books here. What his parents don't know won't hurt them...

fter story time, Jaden meets Gemma back upstairs in the playroom.

Gemma: Wanna play food truck? I'll be the cook an' you can be my cus'mer!

Jaden: Okay! Donut, please!

Gemma pulls out a plastic donut, whacks it around with her spoon and serves it to Jaden. Order up!

After pretend-eating the donut, Jaden sees Lulu crawl in.

Jaden: Hi, Lulu!

Someone's grumpy she's not getting enough screentime.

Jaden tries to do a silly dance to cheer her up but our girl is NOT impressed.

Jaden, ever the people pleaser, keeps trying though. Eventually, Lulu stops being such a fuss-butt and giggles, waving at this funny little redhead. I knew you couldn't resist his charms for long!

Lulu's probably being a grouch because it's her bedtime.

Ophelia: Alright, guys, you've got 30 more minutes before it's time to get ready for bed, okay?

Gemma: Awww. Okaaaaay.

Jaden: Okay, Miss Lia.

Chef Jaden decides to play kitchen before bedtime. His pancake dinner might have a crayon in it, but that just gives it texture! Gemma decides to get a ride in on her rocking horse, since EA doesn't let toddlers interact with real horses.

Jaden doesn't have the words to process it, but he envies Gemma. She has it good here, and getting a taste of that has made him so happy. He wishes his parents were like hers, but he plans on enjoying every second while he can. For the first time, he feels… safe.

[tennythemany]

The Talk

Alright I've been dodging the topic for months now, and I did make this tumblr account to vent it out, but let's talk about why I've stopped posting on the tenpenny account

• Burnout, Identity, Elves vs Ducks

The slow but insidious reason. I've been gposing for about 2 years when I stopped in Feb, and I've been rummaging through my glam dresser everyday to make new outfits for my Elezen. It's what I started gposing for (making cute elf glams), and why I continue to play the game.

But sometime in 2022, that changed. Tried anam for the first time. Started making my own poses. Then I got a hit post. I saw more likes and views. I saw growth, and then I got ambitious. I tried making bigger posts, I read tutorials, I leveraged on my years of knowledge on memes, and I. Made. Memes. That's when things really took off.

That's also around the time I started noticing something. If I put the duck in my posts, I'd get more likes on that post. The duck became a recurring character in my posts. But then people started caring more about the duck than the elf, replies became more about the duck, and that was something I *really* didn't want. People wanted to see the duck. I put it in when I was having a hard time coming up with new ideas. Watch the duck post get more likes than the elf posts. Watch my heart sink.

While gposing would never not be fun for me, at some point I felt like I was posting more for likes than for myself. That feeling never really went away, and so it stayed long past Feb 2023

• The GShade incident

Y'all may remember a little incident at the start of 2023 that got the ffxiv community very plus not-good mad. Not going into details, but a small outcome of that incident resulted in some tangentially related creators to be lumped into that mess.

People wanted blood, and the creators basically got cancelled out of existence along with GShade's creator. Somewhere in that firing line, someone I supported and admired was targeted, and through some *very* shallow accusations, they were hit too.

(And no, I won't be naming anyone)

That event made me realize two very important things:

Years of goodwill and hard work can be undone in a single week if people believe you to be evil

I fucking hate X (formerly twitter)

So that was it. I didn't want to continuing doing something that can forever undermine my work in the heat of the moment, and I've developed a newfound hate for twitter and the mob justice the site perpetuated.

So I left.

(But just the main account, I do whatever I want on Tenny)

• Making a joke is hard when you're sad

So most of you might know me for my memes. A large part of me is driven by the positive reception you've given me, and I'll be eternally grateful for all your support, but that changed when all the above happened.

I've been agonizing over how I feel about all this, and scrolling through X (formerly twitter) just made me feel worse. I couldn't wring a good joke out of me. I couldn't make other people laugh when I couldn't make myself laugh. I didn't *want* to make when some of the people involved were my followers either.

So I stopped.

• The ever creeping shadow of age

I'm 34 this year. I've spent a lot of time on FFXIV, and to be honest, not much else. I don't have a significant other, and I don't do anything but play video games and occasionally hang out with friends for tabletop games. I've got a few projects outside of gposing, but they've been dead in the water for years.

Gposing and making memes take time. It's about 2-3 hours on average to make one, and that's if I already have a set piece ready. It's another hour to look around locations in-game, or who knows how many hours if I'm building my own. Because of work, that sometimes means I have to gpose late at night. Because of gaming, that means I *always* have to gpose late at night. I've been gposing late till 1-3am consistently in 2022, and my sleep schedule is all out of whack because of it.

I *really* don't want gposing to be my legacy.

Gposing comes to me at an opportunity cost. I've still got a few good years left in me, but at some point I need to start thinking about what I want to do, be it saving for retirement, pursuing a passion I've been putting off, or just any plan for the future at all. Maybe I'll finally put my gamedev knowledge to use, maybe I'll delve into the VR scene, maybe I'll learn how to make videos like the young me always wanted to.

But that meant I need to put less time into gposing.

So, the events of the points above was a good opportunity for me to suspend my activities and give myself some time to think about what I want to do in the future. It was clear I needed a break, and I needed a clear head to think things through. Come up with my five-year plan, so to speak. I'm thinking hard about what I want to do in the future.

I'm thinking real hard.

*Real* hard.

(Don't look at my playtime for Armored Core 6)

• Wow, video games are becoming really fun

I don't doubt ffxiv will be my forever game, and I'm glad YoshiP and team have made it so you don't have to play everyday, but holy hell have you seen how many good games have come out over the last 6 years I can't be playing ffxiv all the time you can't make me

Ehem.

Before gposing, video games will always be my main hobby. I have a vested interest in where video games are going, and ho boy are they getting interesting. I can't keep up with all the new terms we're coming up for them, from systemic games to survivor-likes, to Genshin clones being a thing. It's just an ever-changing landscape.

VR gaming is real, we're actually getting a full game from full-priced games, you don't even need to buy individual games anymore, you can play them on a game streaming service, and it's easier to make your own games now more than ever.

Just, wow.

I'd really like to experience all that for myself, so for the past 7 months, I've been playing other games.

A *lot* of other games.

And the biggest thing I've learned through all that is there's a vast and much wider world out there than just the ffxiv community and oh my god what the fuck is the gaming community outside of ffxiv why is it so toxic i can't even-

I'll still be playing ffxiv. Just a lot less. Some things are just irreplacable, y'know?

So there, if you've been wondering where I've been (or where all the memes are), that's the long and long of it. Thanks for reading, and I hope that gives you a sense of where I'm at. Hopefully that covers everything, so-

• CRIPPLING IMPOSTOR SYNDROME

Oh yeah, that.

Wow, I don't know how to tell you guys this, but I am inside a self-deprecating piece of shit who when exposed to other people's work would inadvertently compare myself to them and conclude that "wow, I'm garbage".

It's no secret that I have had no formal art training, or even photography training, or even gposing training if that's a thing, a lot of what I do is self-taught. Just years of trial and error, and mimicking scenes from shows or comic panels I've seen, but I don't have any technical knowledge to know if a picture is 'right' or not. Color theory is completely alien to me before I started learning about them, I was gposing with a blue light filter so everything looked yellow on my end. I don't use mods, so I had to rely on the default models for everything I do. Let's not even talk about photoshop.

And over the years, I've been looking for gpose communities to share my work and see what other people are cooking up. I see it all. Better composition, better colors, better post processing, better poses, better backgrounds, better editing, better...everything. In my mind, everything just looks better than anything I could have done. I know I shouldn't let that get to me, but, y'know

So part of me wanted a smaller audience, somewhere I could curl up in without needing to think to myself 'oh god 3000 people are going to see this post' and think insane things like 'this isn't a 100-likes post' or whatnot. Creator thoughts. Insane thoughts. It was driving me insane.

Some part of me just wanted to post elves. The other part wouldn't 'just' let me post elves. It had to live up to what I've done before, it had to be perfect.

Now I just want to post elves.

• Final (fantasy) thoughts

So barring that last point, that's the thick and thin of it. If you read this far, then wow maybe my composition skills haven't fallen off a cliff just yet. Thank you for reading my jumbled stream of consciousness, and while Tenpenny might not be around anymore, Tenny's always around to talk about elves.

This is me, this post is about why Tenpenny is dead, and this is why I've stepped away from making memes regularly, and content creation in general.

Elezen cute.

.

.

.

Also FUCK the X (formerly Twitter) word limit, I've always hated it omg

[invisiblegarters]

Hidden Agenda Ep 3

Time for real dating that Joke badly disguises as fake dating shenanigans! I am here for it.

Is it just me, or are a lot of GMM boys lefties? I started noticing it in Enchante and now my head just won't stop noting all the left handed writers (although I guess in Enchante it could have just been for the "mystery").

Ah, posture training. I remember that not so fondly. Although I will say I am grateful for it. I may not sit with the best posture anymore (I tend to pretzel), but I do walk well. And thankfully the person who taught me wasn't whacking me with a giant stick.

Shopping date!

"Fashion isn't about price tags; it's about taste." True, actually, but also. Sometimes your taste exceeds your means.

Aw Joke full on lost his breath for a second there. I don't think Zo looks particularly gorgeous in this outfit but who am I to judge, really? I'm not the one with the giant crush.

I also feel like comfort does have something to do with it. I am making no claims to being the arbiter of taste, but I do feel like if someone feels self-conscious in a thing it will detract from how good they look because they will keep doing things like tugging at their clothes, etc.

Well look at that handsome dude. I love how both of his friends' jaws drop like "who is this person and what have you done with the old one?" But it's a good look on him.

And yes, Pat totally knows about Joke's crush. No way he'd be reacting that way if he didn't. He knows and he's rooting for Joke, for whatever reason. I wonder if we'll get more background on that later.

Fine tune the details indeed. This is totally a date that Joke is going to pretend isn't a date.

Yep this is a date. Zo is not going to cotton on to the fact that it's a date, but it's a date.

The restaurant is pretty. The date advice isn't bad but also, it's still good to think about what she might like. I think that it was sweet that he tried to think of somewhere Nita would be interested in going, but one thing that neither of them are considering is that he could always ask where she wants to eat.

This poor smitten boy. He's so far gone he keeps losing his breath and Zo's just here like "you okay, friend?"

"All due respect to Aphrodite, but she was stupid. I would never leave someone I loved alone like that."

Is that not what he said?

THE PINKIE THING I CAN'T. It's so good. Look, I adore the longing looks and the stares and the way that Joke keeps trying to be cool and failing utterly, but the pinkie thing is so deliciously subtle and just rocked Zo's world completely off of its axis. It basically drop kicked him out of his all too comfortable oblivion and straight into awareness. That there's been something between him and Joke this whole time I think is obvious, but now he's finally aware of it, at least on his side. And Joke is so obvious I doubt it will take Zo long to pick up what he's putting down, now that he is primed to look for it. Primed to want to look for it. Plus there's just something about a soft touch that speaks of repressed longing that does it for me.

Laughing forever at Zo's attempt to try to recreate the atmosphere he had with Joke with Nita, and her reaction. My kind of girl, honestly. Nita is not the hopeless romantic that you think, Zo. That one is a little closer to home.

"All this random reading is fine and all but uh, aren't we here to do an assignment?" NITA. I love her.

Okay Joke is such a liar about not feeling fluttery feelings when he has a crush. But his attempts to comfort Zo are actually really sweet. His offended little look when Zo shoves his hand off of his shoulder is funny.

Now they're going on another date. I am pretty sure Joke has decided to drop subtlety completely at this point.

Part of me does have to wonder, though. The whole thing is about hidden agendas, and as much fun as it's been to watch Joke completely fail to keep his interest in Zo a secret, I can't help but think that maybe we haven't gotten everything.

Then again, maybe we have. Who even knows, really. It could just be pure fluff. I would not be upset about it at this point (although it will make me wish harder than ever that this were airing alongside a more dramatic offering from GMM, since the fact that I seem to be in the mood for it means that it would be the perfect thing to cut the angst I expect from stuff like Dangerous Romance or Only Friends. I love angst but even I need a palate cleanser on occasion), but I do wonder,

[kyzveryown]

K I N G D O M H E A R T S | R E : W O R K S E R I E S DIVERGE: CHI + BACK COVER — The Foretellers, Ava

Ava was the youngest of the Foretellers and, despite her young age, she was adept at magic – even being able to cast grand spells. Still, she was naïve. As a Daybreak native, she lived a mostly sheltered life free of any exposure to darkness. It was hard for her to imagine that a calamity such as the darkness scourge existed, even much less that there were realms beyond the skies of Daybreak. In her eyes, things couldn’t have been as bad as they’d seemed. Ava, like many, was spoiled by the light’s grace. However, that gave her the freedom to be her spunky and cheerful self. Her heart was so pure it was infectious, but that’s what drew people to her, and what allowed her to get close to others.

Having received his request the day prior, Ava ventured to the Master’s chamber. When she arrived, he was deeply engrossed in an alchemic experiment. He was unusually silent, which was a rare occurrence. After finishing up his notes, he turned in his chair then slapped his thighs.

“So, you're curious about the Book of Prophecies, right?”

“Huh? Uh, well, maybe. Is that the reason you asked me to come by?”

“Hmm, yes and no. The Book of Prophecies is a golden trove of information. But unfortunately, that's all it is. It can't prevent catastrophes from happening, and it can't change anything. However,” The Master paused for a second, then wagged his index finger. “Knowledge is key. And with enough knowledge, you can do just about anything ‒ even tip the scales of destiny. So, the Book of Prophecies is a must have! Unfortunately, that's what makes it extremely dangerous. In the hands of someone with dark intentions, they can turn our reality upside down.”

“That’s why you keep the Book hidden?”

“Yeah, it's a bummer though. I don't get to read it at all” the Master pouted, palming his cheek. “Just imagine the kinds of juicy secrets that are in there?! So many things to know like, for example, my face under this hood! The Book knows what I look like! If you were curious enough, you could find out just how dashing and drop-dead handsome I am! Who knows, I could be an Adonis under here!”

Ava frowned. “Uh, Master, what you look like doesn't matter.”

“Huh?” The Master replied in a softened and dejected voice. He lowered his head then whimpered while clutching his chest, “My spirit is broken, and my heart is irreparably damaged.”

“I didn't mean it that way. You're our Master, and we value you and your guidance. So...”

The Master lifted his head for a second, then leapt from the chair to his feet, stroking his chin. “Of course, you do!! I mean, I am amazing. Hehe.”

Ava couldn’t help but frown again.

(Didn’t take long for him to snap out of it…)

“Anyway,” the Master continued, looking down at her. “Having limitless knowledge opens the door to infinite possibilities. And who doesn't want that kind of power? In fact, I can think of one group of dastardly creatures that'd absolutely LOVE to get their hands on it. Care to guess who?”

“Hmm…the Darkness?”

“Bingo!” he nearly shouted. “Like I said, whatever the book records will happen. Well, that is, unless someone comes into possession of it and starts throwing everything out of whack. So, in preparation for that eventuality, I have an mission for you and only you.”

“Uh, me?” Ava asked, confusedly pointing to herself.

“Yes. You might be the only hope of keeping the light from expiring.”

“Light expiring? W-What do you mean? And why me??”

“Because you’re like a light that never stops shining.” He said, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “A little candle whose fire never fades even in darkness. And you’ve got a heart stronger than anyone that I’ve ever come across. Who, better than someone like that to carry on the legacy of the light? Hmm?”

“Uh huh. You’re just trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

The Master chuckled. He tapped her shoulder then took a step back. “More or less. The fact is, is that you’re the only person I can turn to for such a huge undertaking. The others simply aren’t reliable enough. This is something that you, and only you, can do.”

Ava paused for a moment. On the one hand, knowing he’d had that much faith in herbmade her happy. But on the other hand, the “important mission” he was coaxingbher into didn’t inspire much confidence. After all, she had no idea what the “mission”bwould entail, and she lacked the experience the others had. Still, she couldbsee that he was being sincere. The Master was never one to take serious matters lightly. So, having thought about it, she made up her mind.

“All right, if you say so. What is it that you need me to do?”

“It's simple – forget the notion of unions, find keyblade warriors with potential, and nurture them until they've fully matured ‒ in secret, of course. Then, when the time comes, send them off to another world. They will keep the light alive.”

Ava lowered her head and gripped her robe’s sides. “Are you sure that I’m right person for this?”

The Master gently lifted her head with his hand. “Ava, you're the only person for this. I know you can do it, and I trust you wholeheartedly. If I didn’t have some faith in you, then I wouldn’t have taken you under my wing. So, lighten up. This is your big break.”

“I understand but...you said that the Book falling into the wrong hands is something that could happen. But from the way you’ve been talking, it almost seems like you know something will happen. I-I'm not doubting you or anything! It’s just that…if someone does find the book, then…”

“Let me guess, you want to know what’s inside the Book that’s sooo dangerous, right? Hmm, I guess I could give you a hint. But you have to promise me one thing…” Suddenly, his voice darkened. “Don't get involved in anything going forward – not even squabbles between the others. You hear?”

“O-Okay. I promise.” Ava nodded.

“All right then. Tell me Ava, what is the one thing that people fear the most?”

She thought to herself for a moment. “I guess...the end of life? Or the darkness, maybe?”

“Good choices but no. The answer is rather simple.”

The Master bent down to her level then whispered into the side of her hood.

“It’s the truth.”

[thebourbontruth]

Whiskey of the year 2022 Part 1

My top 3 favorite finalists for 2022

If you don’t want to read my commentary or Best of lists, skip a few paragraphs to the heading: “My favorite American Whiskeys of 2022”.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it lots more, Best Whiskey lists have become like grains of sand and more or less “suggestions”. If you really like or trust someone, especially if they are some sort of globally accepted authority then maybe go with it, but always with this grain of sand. Now with hundreds (I’d not thousands of self professed or implied “experts”) my issue has always been that a “Best Whiskey list” is dependent on:

1. The geek having a clue.

2. The geek having no ulterior motive/s.

3. The geek not being on the utter, payroll, or beholden in someway to those on their list or at least those high on it.

4. The geek gets or takes nothing of value from the very brands they have/are rating/reviewing/commenting on.

5. How they accessed the sample they are reviewing/rating?

6. Did/do mortals and muggles have easy msrp access to the stuff still or at least when sampled?

If it was tried on some sort of free junket or given to them as a brand sample this can influence the decision. If it’s a free provided brand sample this could influence the decision or even a rigged sample that is especially good. So basically beware of a flawed system. Similar in many ways to how competitions are flawed. One popular Whiskey Geek that makes a living on tasting provided and free stuff now has a Top 100 list. WTF I say! If you don’t know why a top 100 list isn’t ridiculous already, you might want to stick to beer or White Zin. Bottom line is no one is trying even a fraction of the available Bourbons and Rye for a true.y comprehensive and meaningful “Best of” pick to make it very relevant in any case. Even then, it’s subjective and subject to my 1-6 list above. With that said, I attempt to take a whack in 2023 to my favorite American Whiskies of 2022.

My Favorite American Whiskeys of 2022- in no particular order

I very rarely take free samples from brands. When I do I try and reciprocate in someway to even things out. And yes, through relationships I still sip a thing or two that slips through the cracks but I try my hardest to be honest to the Bourbon Truth. Unlike many people getting/taking free samples, I’m not afraid or fearful that a negative review will

• Piss off the brand

• Hurt the possibility of getting other samples from the brand

• Refusal of the brand to advertise

• Provide interviewees or guests to the blog, podcast, etc doing the review/rating.

Whiskey popularity in 2022 builds on the same rampant confusion and viral nature of American Whiskey appreciation as a lifestyle, hobby, or serious interest. I’ll go to a store, bar, friends home, my basement with hundreds of open bottles and I find myself being drawn back to the whiskey equivalent to your favorite comfy slippers, coat, rusting dented frying pan or whatever. To me that bottle is movie equivalent like “Shawshank”, “Holy Grail”, “Dumb and Dumber (of course), or a dozen movies that rewatching hundreds of times and never get old. We take for granted the great bottles always available practically everywhere in the USA, even on a plane at 30,000 feet. You always know what your going to get and it’s ALWAYS going to be good to great. It’s going to be a great value and a ton of time and effort has gone into that bottle to make and keep it really good.

My 3 favorite everyday sippers in 2022

MAKERS MARK

This stuff has been around since 1958! 65ish years! Wheated Bourbon that many consider to be a close clone to the original Stitzel Weller/Van Winkle family process and recipe. A respectable 90 proof. Maybe even the SW yeast if you study up on the history. Yes, a bit thin at times and admittedly about 4-6 years short of greatness, I’m drawn to it when I want a good value pour without much mystery. The consistency over my drinking lifetime is amazing. My favorite go to for a free pour in several post pandemic trips to Las Vegas in 2022. Maker’s is a welcome friend and always a very nice pour. While the masses are going crazy over the usually spotty quality, often tainted all things Weller for its “Wheated’ ess”, Maker’s is my subtle winner 7 days a week for Wheated Bourbon.

WOODFORD RESERVE

1996, 26 years the good old Woodford Reserve is derived from the standard Brown Forman Old Forester Bourbon Mashbill of 72% corn, 18% Rye, and 10% malted barley. A slightly altered version of the Old Forester Yeast. Lincoln Henderson, Chris Morris, now Elisabeth McCall have kept this on a consistently great path for a long time. Again, great value, always on the shelf and you know you’ll get the same flavor year after year. Sweat Nilla wafer, Maple syrup, Chocolate, with just the right amount of woodiness. A little spicer than a wheated Bourbon so add cinnamon, floral, allspice notes, 90.4 proof that holds up well to a big cube or ice ball (never use small cubes in a whiskey you don’t want over diluted).

ELIJAH CRAIG SMALL BATCH

Used to be 12 years old with an age statement. Now thought to be 8-10 year average without an age statement. 78% Corn, 10% Rye, 12% Malted Barley. This one will be sweeter due to 78% corn. The longer aging is what really shines through on this one. Like the other two above, this is a long time recipe that draws much of its superior complexity from its longer aging. I hope that the suits at Heavenhill draw the line on 8 year being the youngest that goes into this standard Elijah Craig. It will seriously lose its mojo younger. This would wreck my love for the brand. At $25-$35 a bottle and 94 proof I haven’t come across a better accessible Bourbon at such a reasonable price. Since 1986 the original Bourbon standard Bourbon Mashbill has endured. Over 30 years it’s been a safe bet.

Put Woodford, Maker’s, or Elijah against things twice+ as expensive and much harder to come-by. In blind tastings you’ll see why I’m giving credit where credit is due to these solid, safe, accessible favorite everyday bottles for 2022. See my favorite #1 pick whiskey for 2022 in my next post.

[orangemoonxworks]

KINGDOM HEARTS: DIVERGE, VOL. 0 THE FORETELLERS, PROLOGUE — VI WRITTEN BY: Naude Lucem -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ava was the youngest of the Foretellers and, despite her young age, she was adept at magic – even being able to cast grand spells. Still, she was naïve. As a Daybreak native, she lived a mostly sheltered life free of any exposure to darkness. It was hard for her to imagine that a calamity such as the darkness scourge existed, even much less that there were realms beyond the skies of Daybreak. In her eyes, things couldn’t have been as bad as they’d seemed. Ava, like many, was spoiled by the light’s grace. However, that gave her the freedom to be her spunky and cheerful self. Her heart was so pure it was infectious, but that’s what drew people to her, and what allowed her to get close to others.

Having received his request the day prior, Ava ventured to the Master’s chamber. When she arrived, he was deeply engrossed in an alchemic experiment. He was unusually silent, which was a rare occurrence. After finishing up his notes, he turned in his chair then slapped his thighs.

“So, you're curious about the Book of Prophecies, right?”

“Huh? Uh, well, maybe. Is that the reason you asked me to come by?”

“Hmm, yes and no. The Book of Prophecies is a golden trove of information. But unfortunately, that's all it is. It can't prevent catastrophes from happening, and it can't change anything. However,” The Master paused for a second, then wagged his index finger. “Knowledge is key. And with enough knowledge, you can do just about anything ‒ even tip the scales of destiny. So, the Book of Prophecies is a must have! Unfortunately, that's what makes it extremely dangerous. In the hands of someone with dark intentions, they can turn our reality upside down.”

“That’s why you keep the Book hidden?”

“Yeah, it's a bummer though. I don't get to read it at all” the Master pouted, palming his cheek. “Just imagine the kinds of juicy secrets that are in there?! So many things to know like, for example, my face under this hood! The Book knows what I look like! If you were curious enough, you could find out just how dashing and drop-dead handsome I am! Who knows, I could be an Adonis under here!”

Ava frowned. “Uh, Master, what you look like doesn't matter.”

“Huh?” The Master replied in a softened and dejected voice. He lowered his head then whimpered while clutching his chest, “My spirit is broken, and my heart is irreparably damaged.”

“I didn't mean it that way. You're our Master, and we value you and your guidance. So...”

The Master lifted his head for a second, then leapt from the chair to his feet, stroking his chin. “Of course, you do!! I mean, I am amazing. Hehe.”

Ava couldn’t help but frown again.

(Didn’t take long for him to snap out of it…)

“Anyway,” the Master continued, looking down at her. “Having limitless knowledge opens the door to infinite possibilities. And who doesn't want that kind of power? In fact, I can think of one group of dastardly creatures that'd absolutely LOVE to get their hands on it. Care to guess who?”

“Hmm…the Darkness?”

“Bingo!” he nearly shouted. “Like I said, whatever the book records will happen. Well, that is, unless someone comes into possession of it and starts throwing everything out of whack. So, in preparation for that eventuality, I have an mission for you and only you.”

“Uh, me?” Ava asked, confusedly pointing to herself.

“Yes. You might be the only hope of keeping the light from expiring.”

“Light expiring? W-What do you mean? And why me??”

“Because you’re like a light that never stops shining.” He said, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “A little candle whose fire never fades even in darkness. And you’ve got a heart stronger than anyone that I’ve ever come across. Who, better than someone like that to carry on the legacy of the light? Hmm?”

“Uh huh. You’re just trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

The Master chuckled. He tapped her shoulder then took a step back. “More or less. The fact is, is that you’re the only person I can turn to for such a huge undertaking. The others simply aren’t reliable enough. This is something that you, and only you, can do.”

Ava paused for a moment. On the one hand, knowing he’d had that much faith in her made her happy. But on the other hand, the “important mission” he was coaxing her into didn’t inspire much confidence. After all, she had no idea what the “mission” would entail, and she lacked the experience the others had. Still, she could see that he was being sincere. The Master was never one to take serious matters lightly. So, having thought about it, she made up her mind.

“All right, if you say so. What is it that you need me to do?”

“It's simple – forget the notion of unions, find keyblade warriors with potential, and nurture them until they've fully matured ‒ in secret, of course. Then, when the time comes, send them off to another world. They will keep the light alive.”

Ava lowered her head and gripped her robe’s sides. “Are you sure that I’m right person for this?”

The Master gently lifted her head with his hand. “Ava, you're the only person for this. I know you can do it, and I trust you wholeheartedly. If I didn’t have some faith in you, then I wouldn’t have taken you under my wing. So, lighten up. This is your big break.”

“I understand but...you said that the Book falling into the wrong hands is something that could happen. But from the way you’ve been talking, it almost seems like you know something will happen. I-I'm not doubting you or anything! It’s just that…if someone does find the book, then…”

“Let me guess, you want to know what’s inside the Book that’s sooo dangerous, right? Hmm, I guess I could give you a hint. But you have to promise me one thing…” Suddenly, his voice darkened. “Don't get involved in anything going forward – not even squabbles between the others. You hear?”

“O-Okay. I promise.” Ava nodded.

“All right then. Tell me Ava, what is the one thing that people fear the most?”

She thought to herself for a moment. “I guess...the end of life? Or the darkness, maybe?”

“Good choices but no. The answer is rather simple.”

The Master bent down to her level then whispered into the side of her hood.

“It’s the truth.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------