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ohsohoney · 2 months

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When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Five

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Five! Posting in honour of the face-off. It's a long one again, just started and couldn't stop ngl. But it's pretty fluff filled! Brief warning though, TWD is mentioned here, there aren't any real spoilers but if you're a fan then you'll get what's going on!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

I couldn’t quite help the way my mind wandered. Back to the diner. Back to Marcie’s words. Back to his smirk. Even as the conversation continued on in the car, Rosie laughing whilst she complained about the radio station that had been put on and Marshall flashing the pair of us funny looks in the rearview mirror.

Most reasoned that you could tell a lot about a man by how they treated the people around them, not just their kin or the ones they worked closely with. But all people. And somehow, Em kept on surprising me in that regard.

But maybe surprise wasn’t the best word to use, because it went without saying that his intentions were always pure. Even so, every time he did something I didn’t quite expect I found myself reeling a little further and watching him a whole lot more.

It hadn’t even been a full day and yet, I almost felt at home here in this city I hardly knew, with these people I’d only just recently met. And the entire concept left me waiting. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong. Because that was just the way I was wired.

“Sound good?”

I tuned back in at the sound of Marshall’s voice, snapping my gaze away from where it had been trailing out the back window and into the car. Rosie was smiling in the seat beside me, looking all excited, and so I blinked over towards the front seat to meet Marshall’s gaze in the tiny mirror.

“Sorry, I zoned out.” I apologised, blinking once more to try and push away my spiralling thoughts. “What did you say?”

Em took it in stride though, smirking at me before he eventually repeated himself, “Z reckons the park sounds like a good idea.”

Perking up at that, I could easily see why the girl had practically been bouncing in her seat, I peered between the two. “Has it got swings?”

Rosie nodded her head hastily in answer whilst her father just snorted, taking the next right at the end of the road instead of left. And that was that.

It felt strange to say, after having been in the states multiple times before, but everything I did I just kept on finding myself thinking about how it was my very first in America– as in, my first time in Detroit, my first time in a too big car, my first time at a diner. Now, it was my first time experiencing something as insignificant as a park.

It was a nice one though, just to drop that in there, not too shabby and practically empty aside from a far off dog walker in a bright yellow jacket and a couple of runners who were doing laps.

Em had pulled the car into some sandy lot lined with white lines not too long after the decision had been settled and told us to get out once he’d parked, messing about with the meter whilst Rosie had urged me on.

I let the girl guide us, trying to admire the green grass and the trees that were still slowly changing with the seasons, whilst Z talked a mile a minute about how her soccer team used to meet there. I cringed internally at the use of the American term and vowed that if she ever came to visit London then I would take her out to see just how real football was played.

Marshall managed to catch up to us not long after, though he’d still been muttering about damn machines and dodgy government schemes. Which had me snorting to myself as I’d continue to spin Rosie on the roundabout, jumping on and off its edge to make the thing shake every so often.

The kid seemed to love it though, content to just lie in the middle and watch the sky above fall and swirl. Marshall appeared humoured by the whole ordeal too and had even taken a turn at jumping, landing with just enough weight to produce a loud boom that had Rosie screaming. She’d laughed wildly afterwards, hand over her heart to keep it from beating its way out of her chest.

Em and I watched her spin around some more before it slowed enough so that she could just jump on off, wanting to try her luck at the monkeybars, or ‘jungle gym’ as she’d called it. I chuckled quietly to myself, kicking out a foot to catch the roundabout’s edge to try and stop it completely. Marshall stuck near, watching as it slowly began to steady once more.

“Used to drag motorbikes in here when I was a kid.” I found myself telling him, eyes still stuck on the dragging metal as a memory flashed to the forefront of my mind. I felt Em shift and then caught the way his head then turned towards me from out of the corner of my eye. He waited. I wet my lower lip and felt myself smile, “Would lay ‘em down flat at the very edge here then rev it just enough so that the back wheels would start to make it spin. We would all be crowded in the centre, seven or so of us, clinging to the rails for dear life and screaming bloody murder.”

I glanced over at him then by chance and grinned at the way his brows had since lifted, then huffed out another laugh.

“The thing would just keep spinning and spinning, until one of us found the courage to throw ourselves off. Or, you know, just yuck up.”

Marshall gave a short snort in return and shook his head with a wrinkled nose and pursed lips, “Fucking nasty. Don’t tell Rosie any of that.”

We shared a snickering laugh, me leaning into him on impulse and him holding me up for just that brief moment. I was quick to reassure, “Promise.”

And what was it with me today and making promises with the Mathers? I bit my tongue to dampen my grin and let the thought go.

The girl mentioned called for us then, having somehow managed to hang herself upside down from the metal bars, practically giving Marshall whiplash as his head spun back around twice just to be certain of what he’d seen. “Girl’s gone be the death of me.” He muttered but was already jogging over to where she was cackling away, hair swinging wildly in the wind.

I followed, albeit at a slower pace, hollowing my cheeks in hopes to hide my obvious amusement, especially when Marshall tried to figure out a way to get his daughter back on even ground. Rosie was far too entertained by the effort though, dodging the man’s attempts and swinging back, forth, left and right to avoid his hands.

Eventually, she did come down, much to Marshall’s evident relief, which was too easy to see even with the hard frown he’d since taken on. And so Rosie was quick to wave his worries away and hurry over to the next thing, throwing herself onto a swing and gesturing for me to join her. I did, but not before I tossed an impish smirk Marshall’s way as I went to settle in beside her.

It was Em’s turn to follow me then it seemed, he shook his head at the pair of us when he came to a pause by the swings edge and propped himself against a pole. “You gotta kick a little harder, Z.” He told Rosie after a moment.

“I am!” The girl laughed in retort, glancing my way to try and match my stride. “It’s not my fault she has longer legs!”

Marshall lifted a brow, arms crossed over his chest, “You can lap most kids on a field and almost give me a heart attack by hangin’ upside down like some sort of bat, but a swing is what stunts you?”

“Dad!” Rosie all but whined, although she was still giggling away. I tried to catch the chain of her swing as I slowed in hopes to pull her with me, but the angle was off and so the most it did was rattle her seat and send me swinging in the opposite direction.

My hand jumped to grip my own chain once more and I blew out a breathy laugh when the immediate danger of falling flat on my face diminished, but it left me just enough time to have caught the slight startle Marshall had made at the scare. I smirked over at him and raised my palms up so that I was barely holding on by the jut of my thumbs, “All good!”

The man clucked his tongue and looked away from me, almost as if to take a breath, before he was pushing away from the pole and marching over. Instead of stopping by our feet like expected though, Marshall slid behind the two of us and surprised me by grabbing the back of my seat. I jolted at the sudden pull as he lifted me higher, fingertips grazing the back of my jeans ever so before he let go completely.

I wasn’t ashamed in the least to say that I screamed, dropping so suddenly and from a height I hadn’t expected him to reach was jarring, but then I was laughing breathlessly again as the wind got caught up in my hair, allowing him to give me another hearty shove before he did the same thing to Rosie.

I don’t know how long we sat there swinging, Rosie daring her dad to run between us in between my attempts at trying to teach the girl how to kick her legs a little harder so that she’d be able to swing higher on her own, but we must’ve been at it for a while. At least long enough for the sky to have warmed overhead and then turned into a glazed pink full of bruising purples.

It was then that we decided to call it a day.

The trip to the playground seemed to have tired Rosie out some though by the time we returned to the car, because the girl slumped into my side not long after we’d set off. Still mostly awake though, she spoke in a soft murmur and pointed out the things that we passed by, her eyes growing heavier and heavier as each moment slipped by but continuing to explain.

Marshall kept the radio low throughout the drive and let her wear herself out, so much so that she was almost asleep by the time he pulled into the driveway.

“Hey, lovely, we’re here.” I whispered to her, lowering my head just enough so that my cheek pressed against her hair, and rubbed her arm like I would Lottie to coax her into moving, “Gotta head inside now.”

Rosie sniffed sleepily but blinked her bleary eyes open to undo her seatbelt, she smiled as she rubbed at her face then turned to look at me. “I like it when you call me that.” She let slip, leaving me to blink before I realised that she then looked a tad bit sheepish at the admission.

I squeezed her hand and smiled back, “What— lovely?”

She hummed around a tired nod and it was then that the engine and headlights switched off. I peered up in the sudden quiet to find Marshall attempting to appear busy, quietly collecting his keys and the wallet he’d left in his car’s cup holder whilst pretending he hadn’t heard, but I knew he had.

“Just like it.” Rosie murmured again and so I forced myself to glance back at her and her weary smile, she shrugged sleepily.

I couldn’t help the emotion that spread through me and warmed my chest, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to her temple as my hand came up to smooth the back of her hair. “I’ll keep it up then.” I told her in the hush that followed, “Thank you for today.”

Her smile, whilst exhausted, was wide enough to squint her eyes and dimple her chin. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

My nose tingled at the emotion that flooded through me at her heartfelt response and so I was quick to undo my own seatbelt, listening as Marshall’s door opened and the man slid from the car. A second passed, and then two, before there was an audible click and the low light of the driveway crept into the backseat. Rosie smiled up at her father warmly, who extended a hand to help her out whilst I waited, taking a moment to compose myself before I followed, slipping out of the opposite end.

Rosie leaned heavily into his side the whole walk up to the house, muttering about the dog treats she had to give Marcie and how she was looking forward to the coming days, which led to Em softly agreeing with her as he guided his daughter through the front door and gestured for her to head on up the stairs.

“Night, El.” She didn’t forget to say before she took that first step, kissing her dad’s cheek goodnight and gifting me a quick hug.

I breathed in sharply at the gesture and then smiled softly over at her.

“Goodnight, lovely.” It only proved to make her grin.

Then it was just him and I, left standing in the hallway, only spurred on by the gentle click of the door that sounded from upstairs. Marshall dragged his cap off and tossed it down onto the ornate cabinet sitting nearby, running a hand over the hair he always kept so short. I moved too, stepping over towards the coat closet door so that I could toe off my shoes and place them neatly inside.

Em followed and came up behind me a minute later to do the exact same thing, my mouth quirked as I turned towards him though, stealing the shoes out from his hand to set them down beside my own. He shook his head at the gesture but didn’t comment.

The house hummed around us as the door clicked shut, the lights up on the landing soft and yellow where Rosie had just disappeared but enough to stretch out and shine down on us. Marshall jutted his chin in the opposite direction of the kitchen after a minute and when he spoke it was in a low breath, “Don’t know how you’re feelin’ after today but imma watch some tv. If you wanna join.”

It was an offer I was all too appreciative of and so I gave him an eager nod in answer, “Jet lag has yet to hit so I figured I’d just be up unfolding my suitcase until I eventually passed out.”

His grin was small but indulgent, and he shook his head again as he dragged in a slow breath. “Get comfy and I’ll put it on.”

My head tilted on its own accord and I could only guess that the smile I gifted him then was sappy as fuck because he swatted playfully at my chin to turn my face away. I blew out an airy chuckle but kept on grinning, “I’ll be quick.”

Marshall hummed and then turned to walk away, it was only once I’d reached the staircase that he paused and looked back to ask, “Salted or sweet?”

I stopped short, foot dangling in the air just before it could settle on the next step. Pivoting, I shot him a smirk over my left shoulder, “Salted all day, everyday.”

He dipped his chin in a nod and his usual stoic expression melted into something just short of approval. I swallowed down another laugh behind my smile and hurried up the rest of the stairs, anxious to get out of my jeans and into anything else.

I made quick work of it, washing my face free of the makeup I’d put on that same morning and tucking my hair behind my ears. I did jump out of the denim too once I’d pulled a pair of shorts out of my suitcase, although I paused just before I could reach for the hem of the hoodie I still had on.

Peering down at it, I wondered if he would care if I wore it for a little longer and chewed on my lower lip. I realised all too quickly how much time I was wasting with the debate so I simply shrugged and just kept the thing on, slipping out of the tee I had on underneath before I was putting my phone on charge and heading back out the door.

Marshall, it seemed, had already settled in, the smell of popcorn and the light from the tele leading my way into the family room he’d shown me earlier on to find him already spread out on the sofa, arm thrown over its back whilst he scrolled aimlessly through a couple of films.

As I padded in, hands tucked into my pockets and chin ducked into the neck of my hood, he turned to greet me. I watched, rounding one end of the couch, as he raised a brow and let his eyes flicker down to the hoodie I still wore before they darted back up to my face. “I’m not gettin’ that back, am I?”

I snuffed out a short, airy chuckle and rolled my eyes at the idiot before I plopped down to sit on the other side of the popcorn bowl he’d brought in, gaze catching on the stash of drinks and chocolate he had on the coffee table too. “You will,” I assured him, rolling my head against the back of the sofa to look his way, “Just warm, is all.”

Em hummed sceptically, but let the matter drop– for now.

“What are we watching then?” I wondered, pulling my legs up so that I could better settle into the cushions.

He went down a couple slides on the browsing page before he switched from films over to tv shows, “Up to you.” I groaned, hating having to be the decider, and he laughed to himself because he knew it too. “Jus’ pick something, girl. Damn.”

Picking up a popcorn kernel, I tossed it at his head and smiled snarkily when he jolted back just a tad and peered down at the offending piece that had settled on his chest. He shot me a look that had me stifling yet another chuckle and then popped the thing into his mouth. I rolled my eyes once more and sighed.

“Um,” I drawled out in thought after a brief moment, eyes scanning the few series that were being advertised. I blinked when I spotted the ‘Because you watched..’ portion of the screen, “You’re a Walking Dead fan?”

Marshall glanced over at me, “Got addicted a while back, all I could fuckin’ watch for months.”

My eyes widened in sudden excitement and I felt the way my grin dimpled my cheeks. “Don’t. ‘Cause I was the same. I’m legit sitting on my hands waiting for the next season to come out.”

His brow pinched and he shifted in his seat. “Comes out Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, for you lot!” I immediately argued, straightening up in my chair as I turned to him again, “I have to wait ages for it to even premier back home, so I’ve resorted to using dodgy websites in an attempt to not get any spoilers.”

Em snorted and then tsked, “Oo, she’s bad.”

My eyes crinkled around my next laugh and I reached out to nudge his arm. “Why are you such a dick?” I tutted before I relaxed back into my seat again to chew on the corner of my mouth, wondering if I should even dare ask the next question that came to mind.

“‘Gotta keep up appearances, baby.” Marshall smirked as his gaze slid back on over towards the tv screen, unaware of how I had just gone and paused for a split second. “But see, this is just another reason why America wins.”

I instantly scoffed, “Wins what? Because I can start listing off a whole load of gross shit right now about all the fucked up shit you guys have done and do. Or,” I dragged out, feeling a little triumphant when he rolled his eyes at me, “We can just pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sniffed as he jutted out his chin, “Actin’ like your people didn’t come over and colonise this place.”

My head lazed back when I glanced towards the ceiling in hopes of finding the slim chance that there’d be some kind of peace waiting up there for me. But if there ever was such a thing, I knew it wouldn’t be hanging over my head.

“You have to have the final say, don’t you?” I ended up chuckling, before I let go of a sigh and turned to look back at him, only to find that he was already watching me.

He smirked. “Look, if you shut up we can rewatch this last season and maybe.. Maybe. I’ll think about lettin’ you watch it with me Sunday.”

My jaw snapped shut in my haste to agree to his terms, the clink of my teeth almost audible in the quiet room. Marshall let go of a low chuckle before he scrolled a little lower and clicked start on Season Four.

The prison.

I reached out and took a small handful of the popcorn as a pair of long legs came into view, the camera following them and winding its way lower and further out, I shifted so that I was sat with my feet tucked beneath me.

A couple minutes passed by with the pair of us entirely focused on the scene, and so it was surprising for Em to be the one who broke the silence, “Bet you right now, I can guess who your favourite is.”

Glancing over at him, I let him witness my sly smile, “Oh, we’re doing this then?”

He grunted a hum in response before his eyes flickered between me and the tv.

“That mean I can guess yours?” I wondered out loud and he thought it over before eventually giving a single shoulder shrug. I didn’t really need time to think about my guess, I could remember most of this season pretty well and I liked to think that I knew Em well enough too. “What do I win if I get it right?”

Marshall’s head lolled against the back of the chair to meet my questioning gaze, “The pleasure of my company.”

I tossed another kernel at him, pulling a face when he somehow managed to catch it in his mouth. “Do better,” I told him and picked up another piece to throw his way again, the pair of us making an odd game out of it. “Come on, what do I get?”

He sat up slightly and actually put some thought into it, “I don’t know,” He eventually muttered before his gaze met mine again, eyes roaming over my face. “You can keep the hoodie.”

I gawked a tad, “I don’t even wanna know how much this thing costs, so no.”

With a mirthful shake of his head, Em wet his lower lip and blew out a huffed breath, “It suits you better anyway. So you can keep it whether you get it right or not.”

I met his languid gaze with a look of my own. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you think I stink, aren’t you?”

It truly was utterly hilarious how fast and how wide his eyes then grew, and I got to watch it all happen, even the moment he spluttered over the handful of popcorn he’d just started to chew on. “The fuck?”

He coughed and laughter spilled from me, enough so that I was actually unable to breathe with how hard I was chuckling, hand on my chest to keep from wheezing. “You–” I snickered, unable to kill my laughter entirely, “You should– God, Marshall. You should’ve seen your face!”

He grabbed another large handful of popcorn and threw it straight at me. Even as I continued to laugh, I cowered away to shield myself from the attack, only dropping my hands down once the dull thuds stopped to find kernels littering the majority of the seat as well as my hair.

“Such a bitch.”

“Me?” I gaped around another chuckle, “You literally just shit yourself!”

Flipping me off, Marshall shook his head and moved to pick up the popcorn he’d just thrown, and so I did too, smiling all the while, even more so when he reached out to untangle a stray piece from the side of my hood.

It was quiet for a short while after that, us moving around one another to put the popcorn in the bin, the first episode of The Walking Dead continuing on without us. It was then that I finally decided to make my guess and paused an arms length away, “Hershel.”

Marshall’s head snapped up from where he was emptying his handful into the bin. He blinked, then stood to his full height. “How’d you guess?”

I grinned, or rather, positively beamed at his reply. “So I’m right?” I asked avidly, having stopped dead in my tracks. He reluctantly nodded, rolling his eyes at my obvious enthusiasm even though the smile he wore was almost fond. “I can’t believe it.”

He pushed out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “How?” He prompted again, leading me to shrug.

“Can’t explain it, just had a feeling.” I told him truthfully as he wandered back over towards the sofa, I straightened out the cushions and then sat down beside him. The popcorn bowl had been moved onto the coffee table after all the fuss, which meant we were a lot closer now, but neither one of us seemed to mind it.

“Nah,” Marshall said, knuckle knocking into my knee, “Really. What gave it away?”

I chuckled and waved the offending hand away, “Honest. I really don’t know, it just– It felt like the right answer. He’s sort of like you in a way actually.” Em gawked a tad at that but I just continued on, “He’s stubborn,” I listed with a rueful smile, “almost to a fault.” And as Marshall’s lips thinned, I carried on in my observing, “But he believes strongly in what he considers is right and loves his family to the bitter end. All of them.”

He mulled it over.

“Plus,” I couldn’t help but add, “He’s fucking tough. Just keeps on going, even with everything they throw at him. I mean, the leg. Come on!”

I was met by a surveying look before the man finally cracked a smile and hummed. The blue of his eyes were dimmed in the low light of the tv now but they flickered back and forth between my own, “Daryl.” He said softly in retort, to which I frowned.

Marshall just continued on though, smiling still as he relaxed back into his seat completely. “Your favourite. It’s Daryl.”

The corners of my mouth twitched and I watched him for a second before a gentle chuckle bypassed my lips, “Why?”

His head pressed further into the back of the couch and I found myself shuffling to join him, cushioning my cheek on my forearm. “Hearts of gold.” He murmured, voice deep and low whilst still also managing not to resonate off the surrounding walls, his words meant only for me to hear. “Selfless, too. You’re a fighter and your silence speaks volumes.”

He paused, watching again, waiting. “There’s just more to you than what first meets the eye, you know?”

I didn’t really know. Didn’t know how to respond to that either and so I just smiled, reaching up to tilt his chin away from me so that I wouldn’t be stuck under that hypnotising gaze of his. He huffed a chuckle, the sound of it warm enough to hollow out a small part of me.

It was then that we both chose to move, I shifted just as his arm came up to rest on the back of the sofa, tipping the cushion beneath me a tad so that I was pressing further into his side. He didn’t complain though, merely draped the arm over my shoulders instead and focused back on the tv screen; Rick crouched in the grass, his eyes glossy as he contemplated the decisions people made in a world like his.

“I forgot to thank you, by the way.” Marshall mentioned after a while in not quite a whisper.

The skin between my brow wrinkled, “What for?”

Rick stood, eyes stuck on the burlap sack. Then, almost as if it pained him, he started to walk away, away from the couple, their decisions, their desperation, and back into the woods.

“Today.” Marshall murmured quietly, before he then added, “Rosie.”

I shook my head as best as I could, “I should be the one thanking you.”

But he was adamant it seemed. “No, really. You–” He stopped and took a small breath, “You’re good with her. She likes you. And then that shit at the park, and in the car.” I felt him shrug lightly, the motion thoughtless, and could picture the struggle that warred over his face. So I didn’t dare move. “Don’t think she’s ever really had someone treat her like that.”

Once again today, I found myself wanting to probe, to question. But I could feel how hard it was for him to speak, to get his words out and across in the way he wanted. I kept quiet.

“It–” He forced himself to exhale, “It just means a lot. So I gotta say thanks.”

My arm came up around his waist almost automatically and I squeezed briefly before I pulled away again, swallowing the emotion that had welled in my throat. “She’s a good kid.” I told him in a soft hum, “You don’t have to thank me for anything. It’s not how shit works with me.”

He snorted a breathy laugh out through his nose and finally eased back enough that I could actually feel the tension flood from him. “I’m starting to get that.” He admitted quietly, as though it hadn’t even been meant for me.

I didn’t question it though, or the way it made me feel, because I suddenly felt my eyes begin to droop. I licked at the corner of my mouth and sniffed, “Think it's hitting me now.”

I felt when Em moved to peer down at me, smirking when he saw just how heavy my eyes had quickly become and the way I was now fighting to keep them open. “Come on,” He prompted gruffly, shifting in his seat to stand before he held both of his hands out towards me, “Bed.”

Snuffling a tad, I did end up taking his arms, allowing him to tug me up. I swayed ever so slightly once I was finally standing. “I hate flying.”

He snorted but entertained me, “Yeah?”

I uhuhed, blinking again slowly.

Apparently, me all doped out due to a lack of sleep was enough to get Em laughing because he cracked up when I almost toppled back down onto the sofa on my way out of the room, pouting at the knock my knee had taken instead. “Shuddup.”

“Almost there, sure you ain’t gone fall down them stairs?” He teased and the air that escaped him at the blow I hit him with tickled the back of my neck, “Fuck. Remind me not to mess with you.”

I smiled sleepily before his hand came to settle on the small of my back almost thoughtlessly, peering up to find that we’d made it to the staircase. I grabbed at the bannister and pulled myself up the first few steps.

“You good?”

I hummed at his ask, the sound buzzing somewhere in the back of my throat, before my eyes were slipping closed once more and then shooting wide open when I managed to miss the edge of the next step.

Marshall’s hands were immediately there to catch me. “Careful, baby.” He murmured, so focused on the task of getting us up the stairs without injury that he was blissfully unaware of how his words had chased some of the sleep away.

“I’m okay.” I reassured him once I’d finally managed to find my voice, but his hands remained on my hips all the way up the stairs and to the landing.

We stopped there, at the patch of hall that separated his room from mine. “Sure?” He quizzed, dipping his head to catch my eye.

Unable to do anything other than smile, I chuckled. “I’m sure. Sorry, I was fine and then it–”

“I get it.” He cut in, “Hits you hard and sort of comes outta nowhere.”

“Yeah.” I croaked out another laugh, tired eyes trailing between his. “Bet I won’t even sleep that long either.”

Marshall perked up a little at that, understanding exactly where I was coming from, “Well, you need anything you know where I am.”

I rolled my eyes but kept on smiling. “I’ll be okay.”

He hummed, not entirely satisfied with that, but took a step back once he realised I really was fine. “Just say okay for my own fuckin’ peace of mind.”

Raising my hand I saluted him stupidly, but it had him biting back another smile.

“Dork.”

“Dick.” I shot back.

He shook his head, “Go to sleep, asshole.”

“I am.” I snorted just as my hand gripped the handle to my room, “So fuck off.”

Marshall continued to stand there though, tucking his hands into the joggers he was wearing as he waited for the door to swing open and for me to step inside.

I paused just short of the threshold, fingers playing with the handle for a second. “See you tomorrow then.”

A small smirk worked its way across his face.

“Tomorrow.” He repeated before he finally took a step back and turned to head down the hallway. I watched him go, until he disappeared into the shadows and I was left alone for the first time since I’d arrived.

Tomorrow, I thought to myself as I moved to shut the bedroom door.

–

Turned out that I had been right.

It must have been around twelve or so when Marshall and I had finally turned in, but I was blinking back to consciousness no less than a few hours later.

One glance at the clock told me it was only half five and the hour had me biting back a hefty sigh. Still, I knew I wouldn’t be getting much more sleep so I took the shower I hadn’t had the chance to the night before and started to get ready for the day, playing music low to keep myself company in the quiet my room offered.

An hour or so must have passed with me just puttering about, pulling out some clothes and drying my hair, it was when I’d just finished applying a little makeup to mask the darker circles that had appeared under my eyes over the last couple of weeks that I first heard it. A slight scuffle.

I paused and set down the makeup bag I’d been packing back away, waited for a second until I heard it again. Just a slight shuffle of feet beyond the door.

Forcing myself up off the bed, I stood and wandered over towards it, watching as a small shadow casted under the foot of the door before I turned the handle. The face I was met with shot over towards me in startled surprise and I chuckled inwardly, choosing to smile instead.

“Hey, lovely. You okay?” I asked, peering out down the hallway to find that the lights were still off, probably for my sake.

Rosie was chewing heavily on her lip when I looked back at her, the girl already dressed for school. She nodded and lifted her mouth in an apologetic grin, “Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you. Dad said to be a bit quieter.”

I grinned at the thought but rolled my eyes at the man and bumped the door open a little wider with my hip, figuring that Rosie had been shuffling outside for something but unsure on whether or not it could land her in trouble. Especially seeing as Marshall had instructed her to keep the noise down, thinking I was still asleep.

“You’re all good, been up for a while.” I told her, wandering back over to the foot of the bed after I’d gestured her inside. I packed away the remaining products which were still laid out on the bedspread and let her peer around a little. “Excited for school?” I asked, glancing over to where she still stood by the entrance.

She hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s school.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, I dipped my head in an amused sort of nod. “I can understand that. You got a favourite lesson at least?”

Rosie chewed her lip again in thought before deciding on History. I smiled at the way her little face lit up at the mention, but I prolonged the silence a little in hopes that it would get her to open up about why she’d been shuffling about outside. It was a trick that had worked a dozen times over on Lottie.

Seemed it worked on Z too, who toed at the carpet just as I moved my makeup bag off to the side. “You any good with hair?”

The question did catch me by surprise, I couldn’t lie, but then I was grinning. “My sister had me learning all sorts,” I divulged to her, “and when I was back at school me and my friends would spend our lunch hour plaiting each other's hair. Drove the teachers mad.”

Rosie giggled at that and finally seemed to relax, moving further into the room. “Would you braid mine?” She wondered and peered up at me with those doe eyes I knew Marshall must have a hard time saying no to, “Dad’s getting better but he usually says it's just good up and out of the way in a ponytail.”

I pulled a face, wrinkling my nose at that. “Well, sure. But I reckon it’s just ‘cause he spends too long trying to work it out all over again each time you ask. You’re lucky though, my brother won’t even try.”

We shared a giggle as I wandered around to grab a few products I’d need. “Didn’t know you had a brother.” Rosie stated once I’d pointed her over to the chair closest and started on brushing her hair, being careful not to tug or pull.

I hummed softly in reply, “He’s a little younger, has a job that takes him all over the world so I don’t see him too often.”

“What’s he do?” She quizzed me, and for all that I’d learnt about how excitable the girl could be, she sat almost stock still in the seat as I sectioned off her hair.

“He’s in the Army,” I answered her, figuring that I’d do two dutch braids and use the black ribbons I’d gotten in New York to tie them off. “He’s good at it too, loves it there.”

That set her off and she began asking question after question, probably curbing all of her enthusiasm into it seeing as she couldn’t move. I rambled away too, regaling lighter stories of my brother’s experiences, as well as the pair of us as kids. Rosie seemed to prefer those, smiling up at me and wondering if she could see the picture I’d just told her about, of Danny and I at the beach covered in thick, muddy sand.

I wrapped up her two braids, tying the bows before I moved away to grab my mobile, finding the picture easily enough seeing as though Danny had sent me it the last time he’d been on leave.

“You look so alike!” Rosie giggled when she took a look at it, taking in the obvious traits we shared.

I chuckled as she stepped back, “Not really, he’s got a much bigger head.”

She laughed at that but then appeared to catch her reflection in the mirror on the dresser, she gasped and hurried closer to get a better look at the braids. She admired them for a long moment before she eventually grinned up at me, “It’s so pretty.” Rosie murmured gently, fingers toying with the black ribbon before she wrapped her arms around my waist, “Thank you.”

Anyone else I would have waved them off and said it was nothing, and in a way it was, but with Z I could only hug her back and smile. “You’re most welcome.” I told her as we parted, “Just glad you like it.”

“Like it?” The girl’s eyes widened like something straight out of a Disney movie, “I love it!”

I did chuckle then, “Well, I’m glad.” It was in that next moment that I went to tuck my phone into my back pocket and blinked at the time, “Best to go find your dad, don’t want you to be late.”

Rosie nodded around another grin, looking in the mirror one last time whilst I gathered up the last of my things to join her. We headed out together, Z telling me all about the lessons she was supposed to have today as we trailed down the stairs.

All of our talking must have alerted Marshall because he only lifted a brow at his daughter when we entered the kitchen. “What I tell you?”

I gifted the man a placating grin as I wandered in behind her. “It’s fine, I was already up.” I reassured him, “And besides, I was doing God’s work.”

Rosie snickered at my words, but did a twirl when I pointed over at her. She was giddy when she approached the kitchen counter in a rush, pushing against it to beam up at her father. “Like it?”

Marshall’s face softened at the sight of her so smiley and went to run a hand over the girl’s head, but there was just enough time for Rosie to duck out of his reach.

“Dad!” She admonished, shooting him an appalled look before she moved to settle onto a stool on the opposing side.

The man held his hand up in surrender, eyes disbelieving. “Apologies, didn't realise I was talking to Dolly Parton.” He muttered and shook his head before turning and mumbling under his breath, “Jesus.”

I snorted to myself and glanced about the kitchen, not an avid breakfast eater but used to having at least a brew first thing. Marshall must have noticed after he’d slid a bowl of cereal towards his daughter and glanced my way.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” He said quietly to me, gesturing over to where his daughter sat, munching away. “She didn’t bother you none?”

My head shook quickly, “No, not at all. It was nice, I’ve missed the days of doing my sister’s hair. She’s long grown out of that phase now.”

Marshall quirked a small smile of his own and then padded towards a cupboard, it was there that he dragged out a box. I frowned at the wicker exterior and honed in closer when my eye caught on something familiar poking out the top.

I gasped. “No shit.”

“Dollar!”

My head spun back to find Rosie grinning at me from around her spoon. I winced at the slip and shot the pair an apologetic smile which Em just waved off, but I jumped to grab a dollar from the small card case I’d brought down with me anyway and slapped it on the side. “I have a feeling this house is going to bankrupt me.”

Rosie giggled whilst Marshall just shook his head and pushed the dollar back to me. I hardened my stare and dared him to fight me on it. To my surprise the man just huffed out a short sound that could only have been a laugh before he gestured back over to the box.

“Was meant to give it to you yesterday.” He revealed as I carefully moved to peer into it again, marvelling at all the little treats that sat inside. “But things got real busy.”

I released a breath, my mouth parted whilst I reached a hand into the box. I grinned, heart warming at the item I held. “Tea.” I practically exclaimed as I looked back at the pair, not having had a cup since I’d arrived in The States, “And my favourite kind, too. How’d you even know?”

“Mentioned it before.” Em said breezily, before he moved back over to the island.

Had I? I wondered, perplexed by the idea of him even remembering before the sound of another cupboard opening dragged my eyes away from what else had been in the box.

I watched closely as Marshall dragged out a metal appliance from under the counter, only furthering my shock.

“The girls went through a herbal tea phase a while ago, bought this stupid thing and used it a half a dozen times.” He mentioned and settled down a kettle for me to use, “Figure you’ll need it.”

Rosie laughed then, breaking my daze as she slurped up the remaining milk which lined her bowl, “Think she’s speechless, Daddy.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully in turn, but she hadn’t been wrong. I just couldn’t quite wrap my head around it all. With a short snort, Em smirked and glanced back at me.

“Come on,” He egged, “we only got a bit before I gotta go. Make me one.”

Unable to dim the smile that then chose to overwhelm my face, I simply shook my head in disbelief but jumped into action, “Grab me two mugs then– the milk too.”

I plugged the kettle in by the simple coffee machine in the corner and peeled open the familiar gold box full of heaven, popping two teabags into each of the mugs Marshall then slid on over to me. I prepped each one a little differently, knowing that Em wasn’t too big a fan of milk in his coffee before I added a couple spoons of sugar to sweeten it. It was always nicer to taste that way the first time around, but most were weaned off of it by the time they were old enough to realise that the practice was sacrilege.

By the time I was clinking a teaspoon on one edge and had dumped both tea bags out, I padded back over to where Marshall was now sitting with Rosie, both of them having been content to just watch me work, and settled it in front of him. I urged him to try it with a raise of my brows.

He wet his lower lip, shared a brief look with his daughter which made me muffle a giggle, before he finally took a slow sip. He blinked at the taste and my grin widened. “Good, right?”

Em blinked again down at the muddy brew and I watched as his mouth pursed before he tried it once more. Rosie hunched over to get a look too, “Can I try?”

Marshall looked to me to ask if she could and I couldn’t see a reason not to, had practically been drinking tea for as long as I’d been on solids. So I dipped my chin, “It’s similar to coffee, but not. Won’t send her into a caffeine frenzy.”

With a cluck, Em let the girl take a sip, warning her that it was hot just before Z pulled away with a heavy grimace. The girl shook her head to show her evident disgust and both Marshall and I laughed at the reaction. “Gross.”

“Oi.” I rebuked teasingly, pointing at her from around my mug, which earnt me a giggle of my own before she was settling back down on her stool.

“Not for me.” She declared and then jumped off the chair to place her now empty bowl in the sink, “Sorry, El.”

I laughed at her apologetic wince and waved her off, “You’re alright, sweetheart. Isn’t for everyone.”

Rosie’s wrinkled expression eased at my words and she smiled as she rounded the island to lean into my side, “You coming to drop off too?”

Blinking, I glanced over at Marshall in confusion. “Drop off?”

The man continued to sip at his tea, which amused me to no end because I knew by the time I had to leave I’d have him hooked, and licked his lower lip before answering, “School.”

Oh. I nodded in a way that showed an understanding then peered down at the smiley blonde beside me, “Sure, if it’s okay with your Dad.”

Rosie nodded eagerly and looked towards the man in question, who’s eyes darted between the both of us before he ultimately shrugged. It got him a giant grin. “I’m going to grab my bag!” The girl told us and barely even gave anyone a chance to get a word in edgeways before she was darting across the room and up the stairs.

I smiled after the retreating figure, amused by her antics, but eventually Marshall dragged my attention back to him. “You good with comin’?”

Withholding a sigh, I shot him an exasperated smile and another nod. “‘Course. Stop questioning shit.”

He pulled a face. “Just tryna be hospitable, shit.”

“Hospitable isn’t the word I’d use.” I chuckled then finished the last of my drink, peering into the still warm mug, “Thanks for this though. It means– well, I can’t explain how much it means to me. Like having a little bit of home here.”

Marshall dipped his chin in silent understanding, still sipping away. “Can understand why, I’ve had this shit before but it ain’t ever tasted like this.”

That had me grinning, “You pulling my leg?”

“Nah, for real.” He said, nodding his head, “You put somethin’ in it?”

I glared and swiped his cup away, taking the two of them over to the sink to rinse. “No clue why you went into the music business, should’ve just been a clown.”

He was smirking when I looked back over, forearms pressed against the counter as he watched me clean the mugs and Rosie’s bowl. “Have a dishwasher, you know.”

Wrinkled my nose, I shrugged, “Probably have a lot of shit that makes life easier.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Em laughed, the sound of it low but rippling the otherwise quiet kitchen.

“Take it as you will,” I retorted smugly, drying the dishes off easily and placing them down on the draining board. “We gonna start writing today?”

I asked it as I turned back to face him, pressing back against the sink to meet his stare. He shook his head though and pushed up out of the barstool, grabbing the keys he’d since set out on the side, “Figure I’d show you ‘round first.”

The smirk he wore made me question what it was exactly that he meant for us to do, but before I could even think up a reply he was already trailing away and calling up the stairs to Rosie.

Still, the thought lingered.

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showtoonzfan · 6 months

Note

Just want to preface this by saying i love ur analysis sm- u put my exact thoughts into words when i cant verbalise whats wrong with a particular writing decision 🥲🥲

Anyway, smth ive noticed is how... little time vivzie actually spends on writing or characterizing or fleshing out her characters.

Which has to be the weirdest thing so far bc every writer and artist ive met agree that its the best part of making an oc! Its so fun to think of backstories and tie that into their current personality and generally just figuring out random details to get to know your characters!

Like, my ocs are my best friends, i know everything abt them from their trauma and childhoods, to their favourite food and music.

But time and time again she proves that her characters are at best acquaintances... the fandom fleshes out the characters so well and with so much love and care and thought that vivzie herself cant do and its just sad.

Not even mentioning the hundreds of retcons and how characters will just change personality randomly or act out of character which results in the work feeling like a fanfic of itself. (Ironic considering some fanfics have better and more consistent characterisation)

It feels like shes making it up as she goes, instead of having an actual plan. Just shoving random ideas she likes or picks up from the much more creative fandom into the 2 shows without actually stopping and thinking abt the consequences or implications.

Theres so many decisions shes made that irk me so bad... the ideas individually have potential but they either dont fit the show or have to make huge retcons and result in the plot not making any sense.

Also, ngl but she has the worst case of tell dont show ive ever seen my god 😭😭 like... you realise you have to show things instead of just fucking singing it or having a character say it??? Or is that another thing that the fandom has to do so they can convince themselves that the show has good characters??

Atp idk how to salvage the show... i keep finding more and more plotholes and unless i literally turn my brain off and only focus on haha funny dick joke or pwetty colors, these questions keep popping into my head making it a painful unenjoyable experience.

Again, if the fandom has to justify your bad nonsensical hypocritical worldbuilding then you failed. Massively.

Anyway im very sleepy rn just wanted to rant a bit bc im a writer and artist myself and it pisses me off how someone gets their show on the air and still doesnt care abt putting in effort into their plot or characters beyond aesthetics and random ideas that dont go well together...

You’re speaking facts! And it’s honestly like..kinda funny too that people who have their own OC’s can flesh them out and deep dive into their arcs/backstories ect, yet a professional showrunner who’s had these characters for YEARS can’t even give the majority of her characters flaws or quirks, or even consistency, same goes for Helluva Boss.

Viv is a really good example at letting inspired writers know what not to do when making a story and characters so at least they have that lol.

#reply #ask #all facts btw heavily agree #thanks for ranting to me!#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin critical

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judasgot-it · 1 year

Text

I wanted to write something really quick for Jouno's birthday ngl, so here's some really cheesy dogshit

Happy Birthday to the blind king himself (ugh I miss him)

Scenario: Calling Jouno while he's at work. It becomes a little silly.

As much as Jouno hated the telephone, he hated the sounds of his coworkers even more.

What were they yelling for? It's four in the morning.

Who's even up at four in the morning?

Apparently them.

Every day. For the last 2 weeks.

Usually, he could have slept in for at least 3 more hours. Have a coffee that didn't taste like piss and tinfoil (everyday he hated whoever made the coffee in the lounge, no one would tell him the name of the moron who cheaped out on it. They weren't safe from him.) and get to tell his woe's to someone who didn't have rocks for brains.

But no. He was stuck here, at HQ, listening to reports that led their current case to nowhere.

Which led to yelling. Always yelling.

So answering the phone was honestly rather refreshing.

"..."

He waited a second. Why should he, of all people, speak first?

"Hello? Is Jouno there?"

Jouno felt time pause for a moment. He stopped, listening to the other members in the room.

They seemed rather distracted, not truly paying attention to what he was doing. Teruko and Tachihara were arguing and Tecchou was...he smelt gross, so probably working out.

"Sorry, who is this?"

He really hoped he was hearing wrong.

"Jouno, c'mon you know who I am. Why, is something wrong?"

When did you have their number? As far as he recalled, only government officials were ever given this number, and even that is far and few in between. He never let you know much about his work.

"I'm not trying to buy anything."

To Jouno's dismay, that failed miserably. Instead, all he heard was your laughter on the other side of the phone. Did you really think his misery was funny?

"If I find you, I'll kill you."

Jouno made threats as a part of his day-to-day life, it was easy to fake it towards you. But a part of him felt how he was cracking easily, hearing your obvious giggles as they thought of the next line to say.

"Ok ok. Sorry I know you're busy at work right now. But I really did call for something really important."

Taking a moment, Jouno sighed as he leaned against the small desk that held the phone. He waited a bit, listening to see if the others in the room were still ignoring him.

As much as he hated it, they seemed to actually notice that the "bad-things-are-happening-please-help" phone was called. His luck really is immaculate.

"How did you get this number again?"

There was a guilty laugh on your end. What had you so happy?

"Some other day, maybe. But that's not important! Jouno."

Jouno gave a very long sigh.

"Jouno, today is your birthday!"

"Yes."

He was really hoping he was as good of an actor as he thought he was, because he couldn't help how his heart was beating twice as fast at the thought of you remembering something so small.

"Are you coming home tonight?"

There was a pause.

Jouno didn't want to respond, because he hated the answer. Truthfully, he didn't know when he would have a 'normal' (for a hunting dog) workday.

He didn't even want to admit out loud how much he missed you.

"Oh, ok. You know, after your 'case' is over, we should get to celebrating. I have the perfect gift for you already, which definitely involves no clothes."

"No."

There was a pause on your end. He hated telling you no. Weird, since frankly breaking people's hearts was his favorite past time.

"Good idea. Uh..."

Jouno forced himself to listen back into the conference room, which was now weirdly quiet. There was also a small heartbeat very very close to him.

That was not a good sign.

"Thank you. Um."

He turned his head, bell-jingling against the phone, as he knew Teruko was looking up at him -probably with a shit eating grin.

"...I love you."

Sighing, he ate his pride, turning away.

"I love you too, Jouno. Happy birthday."

You sang it, not forcing him to endure the entire song. He hoped he was tall enough and facing enough away that Teruko couldn't see the smile on his face hearing those words.

When he hung up the phone, hearing the click and shut off the landline, he was forced to face his reality.

The one where he couldn't stop hearing his coworkers giggling. Particularly Teruko's, but even Tecchou was laughing somewhere deep in that stupid body of his that managed to breathe air.

He wanted to kick him.

"I didn't know you were in a relationship."

Tachihara said this nervously, but still with a smile in his voice.

"I'm not. I don't know who that was or how they got that number."

It was hard to say this seriously, as Jouno could feel the red creeping up on his face.

Happy birthday Jouno omfgggfgfg when is he coming back </3

#this is silly but happy birthday jouno #silly man is silly ?!#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #jouno x reader #jouno x you #jouno x y/n

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Note

Hi Ghost! Mega congrats on 3k!! 🥳can i get a filthy martini with eddie munson? Maybe with some sneaking around fun? Thankyou!!

thank you so much!! ngl, i'm very proud of this one. i definitely got carried away, but i swear the smut is there, somewhere amongst the 3k+ words!!! this is really just one long love letter to eddie munson. hope i did your idea justice! also got heavily inspired by taylor swift's song "cruel summer", but what's new?

come party with me!

summertime and stardust (eddie munson x fem!reader)

warnings: smut, p in v, raw dog heathen prevails (aka unprotected sex). also a lot of references to mythology. my bad. i think i got too much prose all over my smut. oops.

Hawkins was always boring in the summer, and maybe that’s how the two of you ended up in this predicament. It was a sweltering wasteland of quarries that had started drying up long before July even arrived, and twenty four hour diners that were occupied with waitresses that made it very clear that they were sick of seeing yours and Eddie’s faces before even a week of freedom. Half of the usual hangout spots the two of you had considered hidden gems were quickly overrun by the middle-schoolers and freshmen that now had nothing but time on their hands (Eddie had taken the loss of the Arcade badly). So it was no surprise that you two ended up here, at the shore of Lover’s Lake, side by side on a blanket that Eddie had kept in the back of his van.

“Which one is that one?” you ask, lifting a finger to trace out a constellation winking down at the two of you.

“Orion,” Eddie immediately answers, hardly having to squint to make out the stars as you were, “Want to hear the story behind that one?”

“Is that even a question?”

This is how the two of you had spent the last hour. On your backs, gazing at the stars, exchanging stories and theories that did not belong to either of you. Tales of Greek Gods and Goddesses, smartass remarks and make-believe when one of you couldn’t identify the constellation. There’s nothing else but you, Eddie, and the cicadas this far out of town. A buzz of relief and tranquility to bask in. Every so often, you could make out the lake water lapping at the shore not far from where both your feet rest, Eddie’s stretching past the blanket.

It was nice. Every night you had spent out here had been very nice.

You turn on your side to listen to Eddie ramble about Orion, somehow both eloquent but still unfairly funny in his side comments of his opinion on the tale. He makes it very clear that he finds Orion to be deserving of losing his sight - “Seriously, fuck that dude!” - and you can only watch on, entranced by the boy and his starry eyes.

“I think the version where Artemis murked his ass is pretty good, but I also like the idea behind Gaia sending a Scorpion to kill him, because then they’re opposing constellations and sh- Are you even listening to me?” Eddie pauses when you bring a hand up to his chest, fingertips dancing over the damp cotton of his t-shirt.

You can’t hide the small smile tilting your lips as you nod, biting back giggles, “Oh, absolutely.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, arms crooked up to rest behind his head, biceps straining against the worn sleeves of his t-shirt. You resist the urge to just bury yourself into him, curl against his side and press, press, press until the two of you conjoin, never to separate again.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he lowly chuckles, eyes looking back up to the sky as your fingers begin to trace patterns higher, now skimming his barely-exposed collarbones.

This is how it usually goes. He’s watching the sky, you’re watching him. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the change.

Everyone in town knew that the two of you are friends; it’s not a secret. You’d met in school, partnered for a chemistry lab, and the rest was history. Everyone knew that you were the first person Eddie showed every new Corroded Coffin song to, and everyone knew Eddie was the last person you spoke to at the end of every day. And surely, they had to know to some extent, that you both reserved your summer nights for each other.

The change is what they didn’t know.

Steve and Robin would tease you two when you’d come into Family Video, a new thriller or horror movie always in hand at the checkout. Dustin would make gagging noises when Eddie would dramatically bid you farewell before Hellfire Club would commence, making endless jokes about his wife returning from war, how lonesome he would be now as you walked through the door and out of his sights for the next several hours. Even Mike, even Max, even Joyce, had made off-handed comments about your attachment to each other.

But they were all always joking. They never saw any purchase in their words, their relentless teasing never serious because they couldn’t fathom a world where those jokes were actually correct.

They could never fathom the nights you and Eddie would end up cuddling each other while studying, pressed together too tightly to leave space for friendly speculation. They could never fathom the way Eddie would drag you into the darkest corners of the arcade, his hands tight on your hips and your breath brushing his cheek as he nuzzled his way against your neck, teeth and lips alike nipping at you in desperation until you caved and gave him a chaste kiss. They could never fathom the way Eddie had been holding you to him by the end of these nights spent by the lake, pressing his body into yours and reveling in every whimper that was only his to hear.

No, they couldn’t fathom that half of the story. They knew you two were close, but they didn’t know just how intertwined your lifelines had become with the boy lying beside you. And that was fine, you didn’t care for them to know about those sacred moments laden with secrecy. All you really cared about was that the boy before you was all your summer nights and all your starry skies, brimming with clandestine glances and whispers of worship in moments alone. That was enough for you. Here, in your bubble of privacy by the lake sans persistent cicadas and gentle waves, he was yours.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie murmurs, bringing a hand up to yours that continues to explore his body innocently, intertwining your fingers with his before resting them over his heart.

It was drumming in his chest – you could feel each beat perfectly, breaking through the Iron Maiden logo and against your skin. After a few moments, your own racing heart synced with his, a quiet rhythm coursing through your veins. You hope he could feel it, too.

“Just thinking about how it’s just us out here,” you whisper back, voice low and careful not to break this moment. All of the paths, all of the dead-end streets you had both endured, just for moments like this, “How it’s always just us.”

You mean more than the fact that you never invite anyone else out on your endeavors, but Eddie takes it that way anyway, snorting.

“You wanna start inviting the guys out here?” he jokes through more laughter, making you attempt to break your hand free from his in order to smack at his chest. He doesn’t let you, though, only tightening his fingers’ grip on yours, “Think that Gareth would like the show? Or maybe Jeff?”

“Stop,” you whine, starting to fight him with your whole body now, still trying to get your hand free. You nearly roll on top of him, your giggles now joining his, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He doesn’t reply as the two of you continue to wrestle. At some point, he takes his free hand and begins to tickle you, making your giggles turn into awful screeches, echoing in the warm, stale air around the two of you. You twist and twist and twist, trying to get away from his merciless grip. You’re no longer holding hands, him now utilizing both to attack your sides before moving toward your armpits.

“Don’t!” you gasp out, realizing what he was about to do. He’s on his side now, you flat on your back as he begins to hover over you, “Edward Munson, don’t you dare!”

But he does dare. And even as you’re slapping at his shoulders, even when he overexaggerated how much your knee knocking against his thigh hurt, even when the weight of him presses you down into the blanket and threatens to bury you into the soft dirty of the small-town beach, you know it in your heart – there is no where else you’d rather be in this moment.

The compromising position that results from the ridiculous tickling and wrestling is welcome, Eddie’s body heavy between your legs as his torso drapes over yours. Your face-to-face with him, now looking in those dazzling brown eyes for constellations rather than the sky above.

His grin from the entire interaction has begun to ache, but it doesn’t falter as he bumps his nose to yours gently, “I’m sorry. I get it, I know what you mean. It’s always been just us,” he pauses before scrunching up his face, rearing up to continue to tease you before he playfully mocks, “You and me against the world, baby.”

You smack at his chest with fruition this time, making a soft oomph fall from his lips that pass over yours, “I was just trying to be sentimental, you dick.”

The grin finally falls away, but the corners of his eyes stay crinkled, “I know.”

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s like a breath of fresh spring air. You’re no longer in Hawkins’ muggy summer weather, instantly transported somewhere far away where the sun is just warm enough for comfort, where the breeze is just soft enough to wrap around your shoulders like a favorite blanket, where every strawberry is the sweetest and nothing will ever hurt.

The world can be cruel, both in heat waves and hurting souls, but he never is. He’s a sanctuary – he’s your sanctuary.

His sickly sweet kisses continue, taking your breath away in a willing way, leaving both your lips shades of summer blooms and spring flowers. His tongue is a welcome prodding, almost as if tending to your garden as he tries to get the two of you even closer. It’s not possible, but it doesn’t stop either of you; chests crush together as foreheads clash, and you yearn for a world where you could just curl up beneath each other’s skin, clamber your way into his chest and nestle right beside his pounding heart.

Only Artemis knows that he’s already made residency in yours, decorating your ribs and lungs with his flowers of adoration.

Between desperate breaths and needy hands, hips beginning to roll and curse the clothing you two have yet to get rid of, you silently wonder where the two of you will end up in this lifetime. You hope it’s amongst the stars. You hope your constellation can find his across the night sky.

“Baby,” he begs. You don’t know what he’s begging for – for closeness, for your legs to fall further open and welcome him home, for you to swallow him whole with all the love pounding just beneath the surface of you – so you can only kiss him back with more urgency.

The urgency follows through both of your movements. Urgency is what removes his shirt, your hands shaking as his chest is exposed to you in the moonlight. Urgency is what unbuttons your shorts, prickles of thorns when his fingertips make contact with your nude hip. Urgency is the slip of his hand into your panties, fingers curling and swirling in every right pattern to have you preening against him.

“Off,” you plead with him once he has you down to just your underwear and him just his boxers. Your palms rack down desperately over the waistband before trailing down to his bulge, fevered movements earning more purpose as you press down on him and elicit a moan.

He recovers his composure, only to shake his head down at you, curls ticking your cheeks, “Ever heard of a thing called patience, sweetheart?”

“Fuck patience,” you immediately argue, pulling yourself back from his lips fully, eyes meeting and lips slick with each other’s spit, “We have the entire summer to be patient, Eddie. Just… Just fuck me. Please.”

You awakened something in him with those words, you saw away whatever restraint he was holding onto so tightly. These nights always ended the same way, but they never felt the same.

Familiarity waits in the shadows as each graze of his skin against yours ignites something new in you. New flowers, new petals, new budding growths that scream that this can’t last for just the summer. Whatever this is, as he removes your panties and his boxers, is not just a coming and going on the seasons. It’s not just a constellation only to be seen in the quiet of the night by two lovesick fools sneaking off to observe it. The heat of the summer that frizzes both your hair and his repeats it, the cooler breeze that rolls off the lake behind you guys encourages it. It may have taken the summer to tend to it, but this is only the beginning of it. Not the end – never the end.

And he fucks you like he knows it, too. He can hear the whispers of it all, telling him to pull you closer, telling him to take his time as he pushes into you and feels your walls stretch around him. It isn’t quite patience, it isn’t quite cruelty. It’s just you, and it’s just him.

“Fuck,” he moans out once he’s fully sheathed inside you, cock pulsing as your wetness tightens on him. Really, it’s a shame that no deity will ever experience the devotion you feel pouring off of him as his mouth falls open for you, as his head rolls back and his eyes flutter close. He’s devoted to you – he’s yours just as you’re his, “Always so wet for me, baby. Always so good.”

He finds a familiar rhythm to have you both gasping and groaning, and it still feels brand new. The way you feel him deep in your stomach, the way your thighs quiver and his abdomen tightens. It is all always new and it is all always euphoric.

If you lift your eyes to find the stars above you almost winking at you, you can feel that he’s not fucking you as you’d requested; he’s making love to you. He is confessing his past sins and he is professing that he’d spend the rest of his days here, inside you, against you, with you.

The roll of his hips don’t stay slow for long, though. You both know the love is there, and you both know what the two of you need. Eventually, soft confessions and loud professions become slapping of skin on skin, teeth knocking as you try to keep your lips on his. You swallow every moan and he grabs every mewl. You can feel his hands on your waist, your hips, your thighs. He is everywhere all at once, and it still isn’t enough.

It’s not enough until his movements stutter, until his voice has grown hoarse from calling out your name for only the two of you to hear. Your nails rake down his back at some point, and you know that come tomorrow night, beside the lake, you’ll be tracing fading red lines that spell out a clear message: he belongs to me because he chose me.

Your walls flutter around him and he knows without you saying a single word other than ramblings of his name that you’re close.

“Cum for me,” he’s begging again, lifting above you and looking down with wide, wet eyes, “Fuck- I- Please cum for me, baby. Need you to cum. Please.”

You whine out in response, head tilting back into the grass around the edges of the blanket, consumed by him. Your ears ring as your vision blacks, the last image you see being his face contorted in pleasure, and you can’t decipher whether it’s the lake again that you hear or simply your own waves meeting his shore.

The echoes of his voice surround you.

“Just like that, sweetheart.”

“Doing so good for me.”

“Always such a good girl.”

When his own high has its hold on him, his head is falling to your shoulder, his nose buried into your sweet spot behind your ear as you listen to every grunt and moan. He holds you painfully close, like he’s scared that maybe this is the end. You ponder bruises in the shapes of roses forming on your hips as he buries deep in you and he paints your walls with warmth, with devotion, with something unspoken only between the two of you.

He collapses on top of you in the afterglow. Savors the moment, lets his lips pucker against your salty skin slick with sweat no longer just from summer. His own hair is matted at the knape of his neck, his cheeks, his forehead.

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your chest. It’s overflowing, mingling with the still crying cicadas. He lifts his head and glances up at you, smiling shyly.

“What?”

You continue to laugh, unable to answer him, as he pulls out and cleans you up with his t-shirt. If you weren’t so delirious with unbridled delight, you’d scorn him.

He doesn’t bother with redressing as he rolls to his original side of the blanket, laying on his back and wrapping his arms around you to pull you into him, “What’s so damn funny, my beautiful girl?”

You think Artemis, maybe even Orion, would smile down at the sight of the two of you. Perhaps Gaia is sending her well wishes to the love-stricken look you two exchange in the form of a breeze that doesn’t bring more heat, only relief, only sanctuary.

“We are not inviting Gareth or Jeff out here, ever,” you finally explain breathlessly, “This place is for just us, Munson.”

He joins you in your lingering giggles, his chest shaking with them more than he vocalizes them as your cheek finds his heart and presses into his cheek.

Whatever this is, label or not, is good. And it is only the beginning, never the end. Whether the others will ever know or not, the two of you always will, and that’s all that matters for the time being.

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, holding you just a little bit tighter, “Always just us, you heathen.”

He brings a finger to your chin, tilting your face up. When he kisses you, it tastes like summertime and stardust, just as it should.

#3k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #got very carried away i am so sorry #I TRIED I SWEAR #i love eddie so much it aches #not edited what's new #taylor swift inspired WHAT'S NEW

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bloogers-boogers · 5 months

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Forbidden Power AU. This AU focuses on Michael, it's the end of all Creation, all thanks to Lucifer's Spawn. Michael's final attempt to fix everything is to Disturb their father Only To Discover that his father is dead and has been dead for what looks like years there is still hope his father may be dead but his Authority can still be used... All angels authorities are held in Halos and God is no exception... Michael has a halo So he can go back and fix everything... The issue is the darkness in his heart, his Desire for the First man... Originally he was going to leave Almost everything unchanged...but this is an Opportunity he never did get or never should have had...can he stay on the noble path...ya No Michael has bin the good boy all his Existence and he will continue to be the good boy But he will be so when it comes to Adam and make Adam Exactly how he wants him to be

Hopefully this ask is for me and not mistaken for another blog shsiwbdjiwe do not get me wrong I love the guitarhero ship but I haven't posted anything about them aside from the drawing I made for @/ironbatpaperturtle (and my adamsapple fic) so I have a feeling that maybe this ask wasn't for me 😭

I should tho... like write more of them cause ngl I really like them together but my whole view on those two is far different than @/ironbatpaperturtle's Michael and Adam ahdjendiw

BUT if this anon is for me then I appreciate you for sharing me your au whdjwkdjdwoek 💖 now, with all that said let me proceed on actually answering you.

Omygod. Okay first, I think the God being dead for the longest period is such an interesting concept I read something similar like this before in a fic (adamsapple) called 'the devil you know /by anglotron' so I like it, kinda explains why angels would be put in so much work (do drastic choices) if God isn't there to guide them and solve things for them or just get involved but I also love the concept of him not giving a f*ck shjsiahdwiwbs after Lucifer's fall/betrayal he was just left hopeless for anything; his most "perfect creation" (Adam) corrupted by evil and then his most "perfect angel" turned out to have been the one to bring said corruption. (he may still care for Michael and Jesus tho but like it's hard for him to care about the rest) and letting all his children figure it out themselves (poor Sera), like, I can picture him just as depressed like Lucifer in the show issisofksos but unlike him who copes with making ducks, God just lays in the couch mopping about how disappointed in humanity he is and how "perfect" everything was before he planted the damn apple on earth, while he bosses Michael and maybe Metatron too (tho with him he's a lot more harsher bc he was previously human and he's kinda just bitter about them in general, but he's proven his worth enough) around to bring him shit like ice cream or junk food (tho he could easily just summoned all those things he subconsciously just wants company and Michael is there to bring it to him the only angel that has not yet disappointed/maintain loyal to him). So yeah.

Anyways — I still like the concept of God actually being dead. Like when you say Michael has a halo do you meant like he holds on to God's halo? Cause that's kinda cool af, imagine him just holding on to the halo of God (maybe even pitifully hopeful their father would return 'saving it for him') so he just has the halo on him and everyone just "oh shit this motherfucker really could just end it all if he wanted to" but Michael just doesn't cause 'with great power holds big responsibility' type of mentality and I think it'd be funny if Lucifer confronts heaven and is in a determined search for Michael to provoke him and remind him he's still the most perfect of all God's creation (mosty just salty as hell bc Michael cast him to hell lmao) and then when he finds Michael he like comes up with a taunting comment about how bad heaven turned out to be Yada Yada that neither realm is perfect or better than the other, and BAM suddenly his eyes drifted to Michael's head and recognizes the halo.

"Is that—...!"

"Yeah," Michael simply states defeated in his chair, unfazed by his brother arrival, from all the chaos going on, his people being murder, just, done, "father's gone, Lucifer."

So they just stare at eochother in silence, Lucifer with a stunned almost hurt expression and Michael with a nonchalant one. After the realization hitting him like a truck Lucifer realizes there was no end to the chaos released to all realms after Charlie unintentionally brought it to them if God wasn't there to fix it all...

Fear overwhelming him now cause he was kinda chilled out about the whole thing knowingly God would have to intervene soon because heaven was also being attacked by evil- but now realizing he's dead, it like hits him hard, mostly worried for his daughter's fate more than anything else.

Then, another thing hits him, "wait! What aren't you doing anything?! You can fix this, Michael! You have father's power, we can-"

Michael lifts his hand to signal him to stop, "I'm not planning to do anything."

"WHAT?!! Do you realize your people are also being attacked!"

"Your daughter brought this among ourselves, now, she must find her way to solve it."

"But she won't be-"

"Silence. If she was able to bring it to us then she's more than capable of putting it back. If not, that's no longer my problem"

"YOU-!"

"No, Lucifer," he stands up, the power of God emitting through his aura, the millions of eyes on him, big six graceful wings extended to show their full on glory, eyes bright like the intensity of a star. His voice was much more deeper and cold, distant, detached, "I lost everything because of your silly dream of free will, and now redemption. Look at where it lead us, prove me wrong this time, if it doesn't succeed then it was meant to be that way. Accept your fate.

I would create something new, something different. Something that won't betray its kind. No longer you existing. It will be perfect."

Lucifer felt so tiny now. That was no longer the brother he once knew. Not the caring, gentle, protective fiercely warrior that he once was.

Only filled with rage, grief and pain.

Michael... is dead too.

But anyways with all that, somehow lets say both Charlie and Lucifer mange to remind Michael of his love for the countless souls left at his hands to care and protect. And I dunno maybe a song too ahdhdiqgsjahsia and what gets the cake is Michael seeing Adam alive, behind the two, who somewhat stumble across their intervention in a 'bad timing'.

"Hey bitch you forgot your tampon— oh shit! Wrong room," Adam (now sinner) appears at the door oblivious of the whole deal.

"Adam!" Charlie shouted annoyed as they were already, almost, having a heartfelt moment between her father and Michael.

Michael eyes watered, "ADAM!" He pushes past Charlie and Lucifer who are now just confused as fuck seeing how Michael (filled with new growing hope) crushes Adam in a big hug with all the intensity of his power and somehow it was till so gentle and careful that it didn't kill Adam.

And the first man just there struggling to get loose while also suffocating.

Idk I just like Michael still having to be the hero even in circumstances where he doesn't want to. So the universe just grants him a purpose for he to keep following up God's title for him. If he wasn't gonna do shit because he lost Adam? Then BAM! Sinner Adam is now a thing so keep your ass moving Michael!

Michael now wants to fix things up to keep Adam safe; his new purpose (reason) on protecting heaven, his people and the countless souls God left him in charge with.

#asks♡#guitarhero #michael x adam #sorry for the long ask my god

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rotdistressxox · 6 months

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since it was like a week ago but OMG ACTIVE KENGAN BLOG..i legit just got back into the fandom because i was here when it hit it's peak😭 i miss that sm ngl

BUT..can i request Kanoh Agito and characters of your choice with a reader that's around the same size and them and is of equal powerlevel/skill level..

also sidenote because i had a dream about this but how do you think characters would feel if reader that was somewhat like fang (multiple wins) didn't have a style/techniques and just..makes moves up?? LIKE IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY BECAUSE YOUR SO STRONG?? JUST FOR THEM TO FIND OUT YOU DONT EVEN HAVE A..AN ANYTHING

Omg ofcourse Anon, thank you for being my first request! Ah yes, the great Kengan boom of 2020. I'm not gonna do as many characters this time around. Anyways, let's get started!

Headcanons: Kengan Men with an 'Experienced' Fighter S/O

Kanoh Agito

• When the two of you weren't together, he felt a little threatened by you. Not afraid, but threatened. There was only so many people who made he feel that way since he was still high and mighty.

• At first when he saw you fight, he thought they were some sort of forbidden moves or secret techniques.

• After later investigation, he finds out from the other fighters that you have no background in any martial arts. It's just sheer luck, strength, and wit that you have by your side.

• Can such a person exist? You had racked up so many wins just by doing that?

• Things happened, and now the two of you are dating.

• Is still confused by the whole 'winging it' thing that you do when you fight. You're very unpredictable afterall

• Doesn't feel threatened anymore by your prowess. But would rather not spar with you, only analyze.

• Being his size means you have an advantage at A LOT of things when it comes to fighting. You've gotten an earful from Kanoh that you shouldn't take what you have for granted.

• But it's the best when he's there for you after fights or seeing him in a crowd.

Ohma Tokita

• "Hahh? You think you're all that, huh"

• You have more wins than him because he was still wasn't in any Kengan matches at the time.

• Needs to see it to believe it.

• Completely shocks him when you wipe the floor with your opponent doing nothing but fancy kicks and brute strength.

• He challenges you to a fight because that can't be all, can it?

• It can

• He couldn't see any patterns in your movement, redirect your flow of energy. Nothing. He almost uses advance, you break it up before it gets any further since you didn't want to hurt him

• You bond over sparring together. Surprisingly you two make a good match.

• Ohma and you start dating before the Kengan Annihilation tournament. You happily announce that you'll be taking part in it alongside him.

• He trusts your skills, but still doesn't want to see you get hurt.

• He's glad that he's not up against you in the tournament. He also doesn't wanna hurt you, duh.

• If people insult you or your fighting 'style' when he's near, there will be blood.

Raian Kure

• Insults your fighting style despite never seeing it for himself.

• Calls you "Just a brute with no skills, how pathetic!"

• Boy is he wrong. Once you two fight, everything catches him off guard. Just as he's turned on removal, you accidentally knock him out when your leg goes to far from a kick, kneeing him on the side of his head

• "Oopsie"

• After, an unlikely friendship forms. Which soon turns into romance.

• Always has to flex that he's won several more fights than you. But then you bring up how you beat him and he gets flustered.

• Has tried many times to replicate or copy your 'style' but it's too inconsistent besides a few moves you do regularly.

• Supportive as he can be. When he's not assassinating people, he watches your fights or spends time with you.

• "That's my (Reader) assholes! Watch and learn!"

Gaolang Wongsawat

• Didn't figure out you were a fighter until after you started dating.

• Highly critical of how you fight. Even after he started to date you he wasnt 100% supportive of it. Let's say he was 95%

• You always know how to prove him wrong though.

• Tries to teach you boxing, which goes pretty well and you end up adding some to your moveset. Though, you'll still be unpredictable in the end.

• He's well aware that you and him are pretty evenly matched when it comes to power and skill. Though he always considers you lucky that your current skillset has brought you this far.

• Is proud that you've won a lot of fights. Is not ashamed to call you his.

• Gets a little freaked out while seeing you fight sometimes.

• "Did they just...yeah they did"

• Is a worry wart.

• "You sure you're okay?" "Your knuckles are bruised, do you need some ice?" "You need to rest, lay back down"

#kengan ashura #kenganverse #agito kanoh #kanoh agito #ohma tokita #tokita ohma #raian kure #gaolang wongsawat #x reader

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theotherseapancakes · 5 months

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Psssst. You mentioned no one cares about Philemon, but now I'm curious if you have any thoughts about his role in the games after he disappeared. And for sillies sake, does he have anything to do with the Dance games?

I have been waiting my entire life for this. Anon do you realize how verbose I'm going to get. DO YOU REALIZE? I hope you like read mores. Let me preface this with I am aware and have seen some popular theories, so I'm going to sidestep a lot of them and present one I've built since... well, I became a Persona fan as a teenager. MAJOR PERSONA SERIES SPOILERS LIKE THE ENTIRE THING OK? OK. yes even royal.

The P2 PSP additional scenario is so incredibly important and I think everyone missed the point of it. THE PERSONA 2 PSP ADDITIONAL TATSUYA SCENARIO!!!! It's beyond important, because it reveals to us Philemon can have more than one Avatar we know about, just like Nyarly. (Casual reminder he's like half the shopkeeps in P2. Time Count, anyone? Why was the Time Count so hot. Anyway.) Disclaimer: I'm just a casual fan who has played a LOT of Persona and SMT. I haven't gotten around to all of them, but I've played/finished both paths of 1, 2, 3 (and p3p) as well as 4 and 5. Didn't manage to get my hands on Golden but I've seen enough of it. (It's funny you ask about the dance games, they're the only ones I don't have right now! But my roommate does, and will be gone for a few months soon, perhaps I will take the time to start with p4DAN. I'm atrocious at rhythm games though so more than likely I'll find a video. Anyway.) WHAT is Philemon? If we can't define that, we can't talk about The Positivity Guy Ever.

So let's talk about Phil. He's a fascinating character. His Persona is just a form of Himself, But Cooler. And he seems to HAVE no set shape, not unlike Nyarlathotep. People have various theories about Shadows and their origins etc., but Phil is more like that vote of confidence in people. I think, personally, that after the end of Innocent Sin, Phil's been pretty weak. We see in Eternal Punishment he's fading pretty roughly, and has a hard time talking to the party. Presumably ending Nyarly might to some degree fix things when Deja-vu Boy goes home, but... the problem is, we don't know how fixed they truly ended up being, or the full depth of how much he could/did expend!

In fact, the first time we even see Phil without the dumb mask is when Tatsuya decks him. Pay close attention to that fact. To the mask motifs here. I want you to really soak in Phil's everything. He's a leader. A kind soul. He's the good of people. He wants to believe the best.

Anyway, most of these things overlook what I find really interesting as we've gotten more games worth of lore: he and Nyarly aren't the only eldritch entities walking around like that. Yes, Nyx is one too. Yes, it's probable she may even be their 'mom'. It's possible they all came from Nyx initially, but it's also possible (and should be considered) they too may have been outsiders at one point. We need to ask ourselves how far the human collective unsconsciousness can go. Is that sea infinite? Could it affect other worlds? Think about Aion in Devil Summoner Soul Hackers 2. Yes, I am asking you to think about Soul Hackers 2. Deal with it, I don't care. They're sister series. They share many things. SO! Did the shape of the human mind change a bunch of eldritch creatures and make them interact with us even more after Nyx smacked the moon a gazillion years ago? Is there multiple worlds? Weird bullshit? Just the two? Hmm. Well... I, personally, think so. I think he was touched by humanity just like Nyarlathotep, but in the other way. The reason I bring this up is two-fold. The first is Nodens. Now, we don't know much about the actual Nodens, unfortunately, just some speculation. Which is a shame. (If anyone has more info I'd love to have it, ngl. As a pagan this shit fascinates me.) But what we do get on him in Lovecraftian lore can provide us some intriguing possibilities about Phil's everything, which the games love to keep really rather vague. (And this is putting aside that his human Persona is based off the obviously bogus Jungian Spirit Guide, but we love an old guy in a mask anyway. He probably felt that was more 'friendly' for humans, hah.) I believe that Nodens, and Phil by extension, are just as responsible for nurturing and keeping the collective unconsciousness alive and positive. We see the butterfly symbol everywhere. We see it with Lavenza, too. "This is truly an unjust game." So was the bet Phil made with Nyarly, a game he rigged. Phil made the mistake of thinking the Crawling Chaos wouldn't cheat, a mistake he is never making again, I assume, if he can help it. Shit, you could view his boss fight in P2EP as him trying to train the EP crew to beat the snot out of Nyarly, even. But off topic. If Nyarly is basically the father of all Shadows, and they and Personas are the same coin, it makes me wonder a lot of things. The two have always been portrayed as simultaneously diametrically opposed, but also not? They have identical halls in P2. They have similar powers and talents... I think after Persona 3, Phil's remnants sank into the Collective Unconsciousness, to attempt to rehabilitate humanity from what it lost, from what he himself lost. I think Igor took over the room, because he took a backseat to recover. It would go a long, long way towards explaining why only SOME characters have the tier of the Wild Card, which is similar to the 'original' Persona power. (Having multiple.) He was took weak to remain in his Spirit Guide (Philemon) form, and had to abandon it to return to the depths as Nodens... So. Let me go back to Nodens and make some notes about design.

Nodens, as seen here, sort of resembles an iron maiden. It really brings to mind the idea of maybe Tatsuya or someone's humanoid form sleeping within it, doesn't it? Fitting for an aspect of Philemon! ... You probably can see where I'm going with this, but let me pull up some screens to finish the point:

That's right! It's Azathoth, Baby! I believe that unlike mythology, he's yet another aspect of Philemon. Eldritch positivity, in too much force, could be used for accidental bad, too. (Reasons Maruki is my favorite Law Hero, haha.) Let me explain. I think Philemon always existed in... let's call it parts. Azathoth is said to be a dreaming god in whom's universe we all just happen to be alive inside, right? "Dream of butterfly" (Philemon) "Or is life a dream? Don't wanna wake up. Cuz I'm happy here." That sure is thematic to what Maki goes through in Persona 1, and what Maruki's beloved suffers, isn't it? ISN'T IT. The "true reality" he creates... would help Maruki create in the additional Semester--would be something most humans would never pass the muster to even try to control. But we have seen Phil test a few people and find them worth passing before! However, that seems like ages ago. Why has he been so quiet? I think because he was spending time conserving his energy. He believed in humanity enough to give Makoto a push when it was needed in p3 (or femc, if you play her), but otherwise trusted Igor while he restored what needed it. But in Persona 5 Royal, he hand-picked Maruki, didn't he? At first, when I played Persona 5 Royal, I really thought it was some part of Nyarly, but I no longer believe this to be the case. The coloration and symbolism in the background (the golds, the whole garden of eden themes, the way his Palace was laid out), the whole sea of soul motifs in P3Re later... mmm. I have a lot of thoughts about this, but this post is already way too long for one simple ask. So let's wrap up by going one step further and looking finally at Nodens' dialogue to the party in the Extra Scenario in Persona 2: Eternal Punishment (PSP). The following is a transcript, you can find a video here:

Nodens: This is the memory of the lost child whom you all seek. Nodens: Memory occasionally brings about much distress and suffering, but it is absolutely vital to distinguish oneself from others and manufacture one's own psyche. Nodens: Ever since it began, life's memory has accumulated unbroken, passing through individual experiences and spanning several generations. Nodens: And so it has given shape to Kadath and the Collective Unconsciousness, thereby becoming a foundation for the next generation. Nodens: Even if the roots of the world are directed by fear and anxiety, never forget that the true essence of life is brimming with joy. Nodens: You must not stop seeking the answer for why life was born in a cosmos progressing towards absurdity and chaos. Nodens: Life brims with joy, bringing about balance in a universe predestined to heat death, and that allows the world to live a long time.

So to answer your question, I think he's taken a much subtler role. I think he's influencing people by pretending to be a Persona for Maruki, because he believes it will help them grow. I don't think he was intending a forever-control vice grip, but rather to prove a point. No matter what, the primordial chaos of humanity will rise up for chaotic good, lawful good, whatever "good" is needed. Azathoth is... interesting. Adam Kadmon is also interesting. But mostly I HIGHLY suspect we may see him again in Persona 6, or at least I'm hoping so. It's my personal pet theory by then he'll be less faded and come back to us in a new form of some kind. He's never had a set one, after all. Now for funsies about the dancing game, well, he's a positive guy, he wanted to just make sure everyone had their fitness regimen checked off. Obviously. (This is a joke.) Did the devs intend this? I'm honestly not sure? Like there's a lot of nods to older Personas in 5 and now 3RE especially, but it's definitely worth chewing on. I could go on and on about things I think he's connected to, but ultimately they have the final say lol. I'm just a crackpot conspiracy theorist on tumblr who really likes Philemon. He and the Room are my favorites. :) Ask me about attendants for additional dumb, sometime, I guess lol.

#persona #persona 1 #persona 2 #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #persona spoilers #p5r #philemon #persona 2 innocent sin #persona 2 eternal punishment #nodens #text #long post;#SORRY NOT SORRY THIS IS ONE OF MY ETERNAL BRAINROT QUESTIONS HERE #I live and breathe overthinking SMTPersona

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

Text

be still, my foolish heart [5] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: finally! sorry it's a couple days late, but the busy week is over and we are back at it. i really enjoyed writing this one. did a poll to find out how people feel about reader pov, so there may be a few reader pov bits coming your way soon, just so we can see whether she's smitten too... <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist

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chapter five - if you got love to get done

The crowd is roaring as he walks out of the tunnel, squinting a little in the sudden wash of sunlight that hits him. The music is loud and he feels himself rising taller, pushing his shoulders back, chest forward as he realises the moment he’s having. It doesn’t matter one bit that he’s got a bib on, that he’s taking a sharp right turn and heading straight for the bench.

He’ll be subbed on at 60, he’s sure. Confident, even. The last few days in training, he’d played some of the best football he could remember playing. His phone was filled with encouraging messages that morning, from the team, from the coaches, from practically everyone that knew him. The only one he’d replied to so far was his mum, but he was looking forward to going through them properly later.

Earlier, he’d found himself disappointed not to see you at breakfast, but now here you were as he headed towards his seat on the bench, just one row behind him with a camera in your hand. You grin when you see him, and hold up your camera questioningly. He plays along as he stares off into the distance pensively, pouting and sharpening his jawline. You giggle as you take a few snaps and he's eager to sit down in front of you.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jamie said, swivelling in his seat to chat to you despite the funny look from Gondo beside him, “I mean, not at the match but, y’ know…”

“Sat on the bench?” you asked and he nodded, “Yeah, I had to fight to be here, honestly. But there’s nowhere else I can get the right angles for the socials. At least, that’s what I told them.”

He grinned right back, turning even further in his seat so the two of you were face to face, but then the first notes of the national anthem started playing and you whacked his shoulder frantically as the two of you tried to stand up quickly. Even during the anthem, he risked a glance back at you and you glared at him until he turned back around, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he sang.

“You’ll get me fucking fired!” you hiss from behind your hand when the two of you are able to sit back down again, “They’ve already asked me why you’ve been in so much of the content recently.”

“What did y’ say?”

“That you’re the only idiot who says yes to all my stupid ideas.”

His shoulders slump at that description, but he’s quick to bounce back when you start laughing at him. You rest a hand on your shoulder as you lean in, still keeping a hand over your mouth to stop any pesky press doing any lip reading.

“I couldn’t tell them you’re just my favourite, could I?” and he could swear his heart stops, because that almost sounds like flirting. He stares up at you, wide-eyed and helpless until you continue, “Not supposed to tell anyone I’m Richmond, remember?”

Right. Richmond. That was why he was your favourite, because he’s the only Richmond player who’s fucking here. What if Roy was here? Or Isaac, or Colin, or Bumbercatch? It suddenly occurred to him that even if he was your favourite here, you might have a very long list of Richmond players you liked more than him. The thought settles and he can feel his uneasiness in his stomach.

He doesn’t respond before he turns back around to watch kick off, just smiles at you instead and hopes that his lack of reply isn’t too rude. Your hand lets go of his shoulder after a moment or two, and he’s absolutely kicking himself but then the match starts and he can’t think about it anymore.

It’s an easy opener, even if Gareth insisted that they couldn’t become complacent. England were 2-0 up within around 10 minutes with a tap-in and a penalty from King, and from there seemed content to coast to half time with the majority of the possession. Jamie cheered for both goals wildly on the sidelines with the rest of his teammates and then jogged down into the tunnel quickly when the halftime whistle blew.

The team talk was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Gareth was hardly going to change tactics now, so once he’d got past the main parts, he turned his mind to you, just for a few minutes. He probably wasn’t your favourite player at Richmond. And it shouldn’t matter to him, he knows that, but it does. The pit in his stomach that the thought has caused just won’t go away.

He could ask you, but that would be ridiculous. Would make him seem ridiculous. This was definitely getting out of hand, because he had been so sure he could just be friends with you and be happy about it but- you were just so great. The two of you had spent the last four days in Italy practically joined at the hip. Filming and laughing and crying-while-laughing.

All the while he’d been promising himself not to think about you in any way that wasn’t friendly. All the while he’d been lying to himself. You smile at him, and he feels like he’s spinning around on a fucking hill like in that movie Roy had made him watch about a month ago.

The team is all clapping, so he snaps himself out of it and claps too as everyone files out of the room. He’s so frustrated with himself for thinking about this now - it isn’t the time. So he decides - after the match, he can think about it as much as he likes. Come up with a proper plan to rid himself of this once and for all, so you can get on as well as you do without him worrying about silly things like being your favourite Richmond player.

When he arrives back to his seat on the bench and flops down into it, he feels a delicate tap on his shoulder and turns to see you, still smiling that infuriating smile.

“Hey, you’re very tense,” you say teasingly with a light poke to his shoulder, “Whole first half without talking isn’t very Jamie Tartt of you. Something I said?”

He likes to think he can read you pretty well sometimes, and he’s positive he can see your smile falter as you ask. So he did come off rude when he turned around and stopped talking to you. Again, he’s kicking himself.

“No! No, love, ‘course not,” he tries to reassure you, “I’m just nervous, honestly. Y’ mentioned Richmond and I know that I’m…y’ know. I’m good there. Jus’ wonderin’ if I’ll be any good here.”

He wasn’t wondering. He’s been great in training and he’s fishing for compliments, he knows it. The thought makes him feel like a prick again.

“Come on. You’re joking, right?”

He doesn’t expect that particular response, especially not the thinly veiled amusement on your face.

“Uh- no? Don’t think so.”

“I’ve watched you in training. You’re feeling it, I know it. I know you a bit by now. So why are you lying?”

It was the most straightforward you’d ever been and he had no idea what to do with it. But Gareth was calling his name, and Gondo elbowed him in the ribs hard.

“You’re up, bro. Go and warm up!”

Jamie was quick to react, glancing back at you a few times but soon getting his head in the game. He pushes your conversation, your words, right to the back of his mind as he sidesteps along the side of the pitch, then moves through the exercises he usually did on autopilot.

He hadn’t even noticed it was 60 minutes through the game. At least he’d been right about one thing - he was getting subbed on.

He ran to grab his shirt as one of the assistant coaches told the fourth official that England would be making a change. You were nearby again and you grinned at him when he was close enough.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said loudly, and he knew what you were talking about, “Just go and fucking smash it, Jamie!”

He nods. Yeah, he’s gonna fucking smash it.

He tears off his bib and stands ready on the touch line, proud to be wearing Sam’s number on his back. He knows that Sam should be here in Italy playing for his country as he deserved, and it was only a small tribute, but he hoped it would make some kind of statement. King runs over to him, slaps his hands against Jamie’s and that’s it - he’s running onto the pitch with a new spring in his step.

He’s an England player. He’s done it. Lifelong dream achieved.

Around ten minutes into his debut, he sees Rife making a delicious run down the right side and he hooks his foot around the ball to send a pass forward, soaring over the heads of the defenders and landing right on Rife’s foot. He holds his breath as Rife shoots, but the net bulges soon after and now he’s got an assist too.

It’s overwhelming.

Still, Rife is running over to jump on him and he lets him, then Wire, then practically the whole team. At the bottom of the pile, Jamie spares a thought for the Jamie of a few years ago, the Jamie for whom goals were everything and assists meant nothing. How sad it would have been to miss out on this feeling of helping his team, his country, towards an emphatic win.

And it was a fucking excellent assist, too.

The last ten minutes are uneventful. Jamie knows he’s playing well and remembers your words - you’re feeling it. You’ve summed it up perfectly. His feel of the ball, his feel for his teammates and their positions, its all coming together. At the final whistle, he lets out a roar, full of all the anxious anticipation that went into this moment then takes the nearest player to him in a huge bear hug.

The coaches and rest of the team walk out onto the pitch, shaking hands and clapping each other on the back. Jamie makes a point to shake as many opposition players’ hands as he can before he moves on to celebrating with his teammates. Almost as soon as he’s ready to jog over to Rife to pick him up, however, he spots you, filming Rife on your phone.

Maybe he isn’t your favourite Richmond player. But you said he was your favourite around here and he’s going to take that and run with it.

“Y/N! Hey!”

You look round as soon as he calls and put your phone away instantly. He’s not sure you’ve even finished with Rife. Either way, you’re sprinting up to him and you’ve got him locked in the tightest of hugs before he knows it. Despite how unexpected it is, it doesn’t take him long to wind his arms around you in return because it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You pull back, positively beaming.

“That assist, Jamie! I fucking knew you were feeling it, that was insane!”

“It were pretty good, weren’t it?” he says proudly, pulling you back into his arms for one hug while he still can, grateful when you let him. He leans back this time, watching you with a quirked eyebrow, “You know me quite well, huh?”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you looked flustered.

“Didn’t know you were going to do that, though, did I? Magic, that was,” you’re still heaping praise on him, and there’s a part of him that wants to tell you to go on, but he doesn’t want to push it. He also doesn’t want any awkwardness between the two of you, but right now he thinks he could do anything, so he takes a chance.

“Earlier, you said I was your favourite because I’m Richmond and it jus’ felt shit,” he admits, all in a rush, “That’s not your fault, I know. I never thought about you likin’ Richmond in general before. Instead of-“

Instead of just me. Instead of just liking me, for who I am and not what team I play for. Tell me I’m your favourite Richmond player and I’ll stop being a fucking prick.

He keeps most of what he’s thinking to himself, because he feels like he’s probably already said too much. In his sessions with Doctor Sharon so far, she’s been so encouraging of his newfound honesty, both with others and with himself. She’d want him to ‘communicate his feelings’ with you, and he wasn’t sure if this was the best way of doing that, but it had happened now. He’d already said it.

You still had your hands on his arms, having pulled them back from their tight squeeze around his neck and shoulders. You were looking at him thoughtfully, and he was struck by how stupid he was when he thought he could read you earlier - you were impossible to read sometimes.

After what feels like years, you press your lips together like you’re suppressing a grin and squeeze his biceps.

“Jamie…” you begin, voice as soft as it’s ever been, despite the still deafening roar of the crowd. He’d practically forgotten he’s still stood on a football pitch, “Come on. You’re joking, right?”

Same words as earlier. His heart sinks.

“I swear, Y/N, I’m not lying this time, that’s actually why I got all mardy-”

“You have to be joking,” you repeat, interrupting him slowly, “Because you must know you’re my favourite player everywhere.”

He isn’t sure whether to sigh in pure relief or start panting for breath. You’re looking at him so softly, there’s almost shyness there. He’s never seen you shy, ever. Certainly not around anyone else.

“You’ve admitted something, so I will too. Just to be fair,” you smile easily, still holding him by the arms. He wonders if he could put his hands back on your waist, but he can’t move a muscle in case you move away from him, “I’ve never been nervous around football players. I work with them everyday, you know? And then you walk up to training that first day, and you don’t hear me when I ask my question, and I felt nervous. Stupid nervous.”

“…because you’re a Richmond fan?”

“No, Jamie,” you say, but you don’t say why you were nervous, you just fucking stare at him. His heart is begging him to lean in and kiss you silly, “Maybe it was the hair.”

You reach up to gently tug on one of the strands that falls in front of his face from his headband. He’s struggling to find his voice.

“I-” he has to cough to get his words back, “I do have good hair.”

“Great hair, even,” you smirk, and he can see you biting your lip, “The rest of you isn’t too bad either, I guess. If you’re into that kinda thing.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re flirting with him.

This is new. He’s oblivious and his processing time might be longer than others, but you’ve never blatantly flirted with him before. He’d know, because he’s been desperate for you to flirt with him for a few weeks now. Basically since he met you. Whether it’s playful or not, it’s a new development that has him floating.

This, he can do. Flirting. He’s good at this.

“And what kinda thing would that be?” he says, tilting his head and smirking right back at you. All his terror at your previous sincerity falls away and is replaced by a need to match you quip for quip. He can think about the fact that he’s your favourite player everywhere when he sits in his hotel room grinning in the mirror later.

“You know,” you rock back and forth on your heels, “The whole fit footballer thing. Abs and shit. It’s a very particular type.”

So you had looked at him at the pool party. It shouldn’t have made him so giddy. You just called him fit. He could melt into a puddle at your feet if he wasn’t so determined to make you giddy in return.

“And is it your type?”

You make a show of thinking about it in a way that shoots sparks all the way down Jamie’s spine. He’s so glad you can’t hear his heartbeat like he can, roaring in his ears.

“Dunno. I like my guys with enough hair gel to set their head alight, you know?”

A dig at his look from a few years ago. Of course you’d find a way to mention that without stopping that tone you’d taken on out of nowhere. The tone that was disarming and charming and downright hot.

“You know, I think I know a guy like that,” he said, pretending to search for someone over your head, “You don’t happen to know any mad pretty PR women I could point him to?”

The grin that took over you, bloomed across your whole face, was exactly what he’d been hoping for, finally finding the opening in the conversation to compliment you right back. You move closer to him and he feels himself let out a tiny gasp, but all you do is tuck yourself into his side, winding an arm around his waist. He lets his own wrap around your shoulders as the two of you start walking over to clap the England fans in the corner.

“I’ll keep you posted,” you say, looking up at him, all sweetness. He knows you aren’t, though, because your free hand comes to rest on his stomach as you look up at him. He feels every ab tighten under your touch despite his best efforts, “Guess we’ll just have to keep looking, hm?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grinning down at you as he tugs you further into him, “If your mate Tiff ever joins us out here, she could be a good option for him, right?”

You push yourself away from him, and its the last thing he wanted. You walk backwards away from him for a few seconds, then shake your head at him with a smile and run to catch up with the rest of the team.

He’s left a little bit awestruck in your wake. He jumps when someone claps him on the back, then turns to see a very smug Rife.

“That bad?”

Jamie huffs out a half-laugh as his eyes go back to following you, watching you congratulate some of the coaches. There’s a little bit of jealousy in his chest even watching you talk with them, and he hates it.

“That bad,” he confirms, still staring at you from afar, “That fucking bad.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt series #be still my foolish heart #as someone who watches a lot of football can i just say this gif is the hottest thing in existence

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