#a middle schooler could figure this out! it's not that hard!

[paradoxlemonade]

When is it socially appropriate to throw your group mates in a college group project out of the airlock

[hijinxinprogress]

12 year old tim realizing robin’s not coming back to gotham and deciding that it’s Batman’s fault so he has to ruin the little bit of sanity and peace of mind Bruce has managed (read: struggled) to keep in his grasp:

[ash5monster01]

Cold Spring Harbor

Chapter One - She’s Got A Way 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, instant attraction, invisible string theory, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, coping mechanisms

Summary: Just when Steve figures he’s bound to be alone the rest of his life, somehow he finds you, and for some reason just being near you makes him feel much less alone in the world.

word count: 2k

→ Two

Masterlist

Spring 1985

She's got a way of showin', how I make her feel

Steve hated being sad. Yet for the last six months that was all he had felt. He should be over it by now. He wished he was over it, but everyday he went to school just to see Nancy with Johnathon and know everything that he lost. He had given up his friends for her, and when she gave him up for Johnathon, he had no one left. No happy family to come home to, and no friends to spend time with, especially no girlfriend to love. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get over her, because she was the only person he had left and she left him too.

So he woke up on the first day of spring break, no parents, no plans, no one at all. It didn’t matter that the first warm sun was shining through his window and the birds chirped happily outside. He figured he would always be alone and he was still just as miserable as before. The only person he did have was Dustin but how many times can you ask a middle schooler to hang out before it gets weird? Steve didn’t want to find out.

He wasn’t going to last all of spring break like this so he was going to do the only thing that made him feel better. The only thing that gave him enough motivation to get out of bed and get ready for the day. So it’s not long until he is walking out the front door and towards his car. Yet before he unlocked it he stopped, eyes glancing into the bright blue sky, and deciding against the drive. It was sunny and almost seventy, plus a walk would be good for him. So he stuffed the keys back in his pocket and started down the road.

Town was half empty once he got there, signs showing that the new mall being built was already taking away business. It was sad to see the town that once was so busy become a shell of nothing. Kind of like him he supposed. Yet the sight of the familiar blue door eased his mind as he pushed in the one place he hoped would be here forever.

“Hey man, long time no see” Ron, the owner smiles from behind the register. Steve matches the smile right back even though he doesn’t feel it. He wished he did.

“Hey Ron, how’s business been?” he asks, eyeing the various shelves throughout the room.

“I wish I could say busy, but ever since word got out that Sam Goody was being built in the mall, no one really cares about Ron’s Records anymore” he says and Steve nods, his throat tightening at the thought.

“I’m sorry about that man, you know I’ll be a customer for life” he tells him and Ron nods, smiling at the boys kindness.

“You and your Grandpa both” Ron says kindly and Steve has to look away before tears form in his eyes.

“I’m gonna check some records out” Steve tells him and Ron nods as he moves to the section he knows it will be at.

Finally reaching the B’s his fingers start skimming the records. It feels like he’s passed a hundred Barry Manilow records by the time he reaches exactly what he’s looking for. Smiling to himself he scans which ones are there, determined what would be the best to listen to. Something that for an entire forty minutes could make him feel much less lonely in this world.

“Billy Joel huh?” Steve looks up and nearly freezes. There you are, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and something about the world stops. He’s not one to be shy but it’s as if the words somehow can’t leave his mouth. There was just something about you. “Since when do boys your age listen to Billy Joel?”

“Hey, he’s still rock n’ roll to me” Steve defends, and it’s cheesy. He knows that, but it doesn’t stop you from laughing. You’re wearing the most perfect smile he’s ever seen and he wants to make you do it again.

“I’m not saying he isn’t, just most guys these days don’t know good music anymore” you say, pulling the record out of his hands and he almost gasps at the way your fingers feel against his.

“Well good music to me is just Billy, always has been” he says and you give him a small nod, smile still on your face. He briefly wonders what it could be about you that makes him suddenly so content.

“Cold Spring Harbor? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it” you say and Steve’s heart clenches.

“It’s his first album, he was only 22 when he wrote it. It’s one of my favorites” Steve tells you and the mischievous grin you give him makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Well let’s listen to it” you tell him, hand grabbing his own, and leading him to the front of the building. In the front window there’s two chairs and small record player in between. They had been there for as long as Steve could remember, he had sat in them hundreds of times. He sits in his, the one chair he always sat in, and you sit, well in the other. His throat dries as he sees you sit across from him in the chair that had been empty for many years.

“What’s your favorite track?” you muse, hands delicately working to pull the record from its sleeve and place it on the player.

"The first one, She's Got A Way. It was my Grandpa's favorite, the first Billy song he ever played me" Steve says, looking off onto the rows and rows of records. Remembering a time when he was just short enough to be the same height as them. Rushing around and looking for the most colorful covers while his Grandpa went straight to the B's. Then he'd sit in the very chair he was now, ankles just barely hanging over the edge as his Grandpa played him song after song, in the very seat you were sitting in now.

"So that's where it comes from" you muse, the record spinning as you turn on the machine. Steve watches as you set the needle on the record, sratching till it finds its groove, and fills the silence between you both.

"Why is it his favorite?" you ask after a few moments, watching the boy as he let's the words sink in.

"He claimed it was the only song he ever heard that perfectly described how he felt about my Grandmother. How the right women could completley turn you around and heal you when you least expect it" Steve smiles fondly as he repeats those words he hadn't in a very long time.

"A charmer, I'm sure you are too" you say and the shocked look Steve wears has you laughing lightly. It takes Steve only a second to laugh along with you, realizing just how quickly you had revealed him. It's when your laughter calms he realizes the smile on your face has eased his heart more in the last six months than anything else.

"If you must know" Steve says and you giggle again which has Steve wanting to spend more and more time with you.

"Where is this Grandpa of yours, I have a few questions for him?" you ask and Steve freezes, not expecting the words to leave your mouth. It takes him a moment to respond and you sense the discomfort and place your hand on his own. Steve nearly jumps at the electric touch that comes from it.

"He passed away when I was fifteen, right before high school" he tells you, throat tightening around the admittance.

"I'm so sorry, that's awful" you try to comfort but Steve just smiles.

"You would have loved him though. Everyone did. He was my best friend, the only family I really had that spent time with me. Since my Grandma passed when I was ten, me and him made sure to spend all of middle school together" Steve isn't entirely sure why he is telling you this, he just knows your the first person he has been this comfortable around since his Grandpa and he didn't even know your name yet. He didn’t know what it was about you but he figured there didn't need to be a reason.

"That's so sweet, he sounds so special" you tell him and Steve nods, recalling memories he hadn't allowed himself to think about for years.

"He was, just wish he was still around. He was the only person to ever be there for me, front row at every swim meet and basketball game. Was hard going through highschool knowing he was no longer in the stands, but Billy. Well that's all me and him ever talked about. So sometimes, on days like today when I miss him a little extra, I find him in the lyrics of a song" and your heart soars for the boy in front of you. A boy with a deep sadness buried within him. A boy the world hadn't given a chance yet.

"Is he there right now?" you can't help but ask, the last few lines of the song coming through the speakers on the machine. Steve listens, can practically see his Grandpa yelling at him for not making a move. ‘At least ask her name’ he groans and Steve chuckles lightly to himself.

"Yeah he's here. He always is" Steve says and you give him a smile that somehow heals him. "I'm Steve by the way"

"Nice to meet you Steve" you tell him before offering your own name and Steve finds it rattling through his head, the most beautiful name in all of existence, and somehow it belongs to you. The very girl who showed up while he was feeling down and has inspired him without a sound. The beginning notes of You Can Make Me Free fill the silence between you both and Steve sits up, realizing your hand is still atop his own.

"Sorry for spilling my guts" Steve says and you shake your head, wanting him to know that he had done nothing wrong this entire time.

"Don't be, it actually happens a lot. I seem to make people very comfortable. Guess I just got a way about me" and Steve agrees because somehow in just this short exchange you have inspired him to keep on going, reminded him that this is not the end and it won't be all bad. It is like you have some bright light around you and it gives him the strength to keep going.

"Would you maybe want to go get something to eat?" Steve finds the confidence to ask and you beam a smile brightly back at him.

"I'd love to Steve" you tell him, using his name like it now somehow belongs to you and Steve wishes it does. A million dreams of love surrounding you and for the first time since Nancy he finds himself feeling something for a girl he never thought he'd feel again. He just knows he no longer wants to live without you.

"Have fun you two" Ron calls out as you both exit, the record still playing as you both leave it behind. You talk the whole way to the small diner in town, Steve just smiles and listens, loving how everything sounds the way it comes out your mouth. It's as if every word lifts him up as you are walking.

For the rest of the day Steve does his part getting to know you. Making you laugh and flirting where necessary which never fails to make you blush. The sight of your red cheeks alone make his heart soar for you. It's cute the way you show it, exactly how you feel about him. In return you do find yourself charmed by the very boy you couldn’t resist talking to. You wondered where a sweet boy like him had been your whole life and for the first time you aren't as embarassed by the blush on your cheeks as you normally would be.

"I really like you Rosy" he says matter of fact, the nickname falling easily from his lips. You blush at his words again, shaking your head at the boy you figure you aren't getting rid of anytime soon.

"I like you too Steve"

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @notlilyyyy @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter IV: The Prophecy

“Hand on the throttle. Thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh– But it's gone again.”

series masterlist previous chapter

pairing: post-prison/ cm: evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.) series synopsis: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life. cw: age gap (Spencer is 42, reader is 24 in chapter 1), Use of y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, romance romancing, kisses, and touches but no smut (yet…maybe); Reader is feisty and flirty; Spencer is anxious and has an aggressive outburst; female reader she/her pronouns, and mentions of typical CM violence. wc: 2.5k of conversation and world-building

The drive back to the university was nearly silent, with only the hum of the engine and the rhythmic tap of the rain breaking the tension that still hung in the air from Spencer’s outburst. When they finally arrived home, an unmarked car with government plates was waiting for them.

With a sigh, Y/N moved to open her door, only stopping when Spencer reached out, taking her hand in his. “Wait—” His voice was soft and timid, melting a part of her soul. Her gaze shifted from the waiting officer to Spencer. He cleared his throat, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m really sorry that I snapped at you. We were having a great night, and I hate that I might’ve made you feel unsafe in my company…”

Y/N’s brows knit together as she shook her head, turning to better face Spencer. Her free hand cupped his cheek as she leaned in, her nose brushing gently against his before their lips connected. “Hey…I could never feel unsafe with you, okay? I understand it’s the job, it’s tough, and it can get to you…but we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together…till death do us part or whatever.” She teased, desperately trying to lighten Spencer’s somber mood.

He chuckled, nodding his head gently against hers. “Yeah…okay.” He kissed her quickly before letting her hand fall away, getting out of the car, and rushing to grab her door for her.

The pair looked a sight—clothes still dampened from their frolicking in the rain, wild curls, and kiss-bruised lips. They looked more like a pair of high schoolers than professionals.

“Looks like you two had a good night,” the agent called, slamming his car door. He looked annoyed, or maybe that was just his face, Y/N thought, observing the new file box securely under one of his arms. “The press finally caught wind of this one; it’ll be all over the 11 o’clock news if you two are too busy…socializing.”

The agent smirked, his eyes raking over Y/N’s body, catching the way her dress clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

“I’m going to need you to apologize—” Spencer started, taking a protective step in front of Y/N. She had to admit, the role of husband looked good on him. Her hand gently gripped his bicep, trying desperately to ground him. “Spence—” Her warning tone begged him to stop.

“Come on, bro, be serious. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I mean, good for you, honestly, bagging a newer model?” The agent threw Spencer a wink.

“Newer model—?” Spencer’s brows shot up in disbelief as Y/N snapped, her brows knitting together. Her feet carried her towards the agent, and her fist connected hard with his jaw before she even had time to register what she was doing. She snatched the box and stormed into the house.

“And I look unstable—

Gathered with a coven round a sorceress table.”

“Em, sorry, I punched him. If you get a call saying that one of your agents punched Agent Asshat or whatever his name was, I take full responsibility. Go ahead and write me up.”

Y/N all but yelled into the phone sitting in the middle of the table, a very tired Emily Prentiss on the other end.

There was a muffled yawn from the other end. “Did he deserve it?”

Y/N sighed, “Well—”

“Yes,” Spencer cut her off, returning from the kitchen with a makeshift bag of ice for her hand. “We may have looked less than professional, but that doesn’t excuse his blatant misogyny, nor the way he was practically eye-fucking Y/N on our front lawn.” He huffed, sinking onto the sofa.

“Sounds like he deserved it…” Much to Y/N’s surprise, Emily didn’t sound upset. If anything, their unit chief sounded amused.

“Should’ve seen it, Emily. She would’ve made Morgan proud. I think she might’ve broken his nose,” Spencer chuckled, glancing over at his literal blushing bride with a cheeky grin.

Prentiss laughed. “I don’t condone violence…but good on you, kid. I’ll let you know if I receive that call, but if he’s the jack-off you’ve made him out to be, I doubt he’ll admit to his superiors that a woman broke his nose. Regardless, I won't be writing you up for this.” There was a brief pause, the sound of shuffling papers and drawers closing on Emily’s end. The time difference between Seattle and the District meant it was past midnight.

“You should go home, get some rest, Em. We’ll look over the newest crime scene photos and see if anything stands out. If it does, we’ll let you know. The agent made the comment that the press had the story…so we’ll keep an eye on that as well…”

Emily, ever the workhorse, sighed. “Fine…I’m going to head out of the office now, but as always, call me if you need me or if there are any urgent developments.”

“Have a good night, Em…” Spencer sighed, his head lulling back against the cushion as the line went dead. “How’s your hand?” he muttered quietly as he started unpacking the newest box of evidence onto their coffee table.

“It hurts…” she shrugged, flexing her fingers under the ice pack, “but I hope his face hurts more.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gazed at Y/N with pure admiration and pride. “Angel, I genuinely think you might’ve broken that idiot’s nose. I can almost—actually, no, statistically, I can guarantee his face will be hurting for a while, especially right now.”

“Pad around when I get home— I guess a lesser person would’ve lost hope.”

The night slipped by, the story was run, and the case stayed the same— unsolved. Nothing particularly groundbreaking was found at the crime scenes, and the MO and victimology were painfully consistent, which left little for Spencer or Y/N to analyze. It was driving Spencer crazy, how after nearly twenty years with the BAU, he found himself genuinely stumped.

In the coming days, everything suddenly became real. After their date, their kiss—it wasn’t just a cover story anymore. Spencer and Y/N no longer felt like characters in a tragic play. They were a couple, who kissed and held hands, who slept in the same bed and talked about their days.

Days turned to weeks, and before they knew it, August had slipped away like a bottle of wine. As the leaves began to change, the lines between reality and their cover began to blur. 

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was happy, and content in a life he had always imagined for himself—a wife, a home, a steady schedule. None of it was real, but if only for a moment, it was real to him. His classes ran smoothly, with students who weren’t just there because he had a pretty face—they cared, and it was groundbreaking. The university had even given him a TA to hopefully lighten his workload. She was sweet, not much older than Y/N, but working on a doctoral thesis in his field of expertise. All the pieces of this illusion had fallen perfectly into place.

"Still, I dream of her…"

Spencer woke with a start. He hadn’t had that particular nightmare in years, not since his brain had nearly bled out all those years ago, not since he saw Maeve that one last time. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, his hands blindly searching for Y/N in the bed beside him… and then there she was, groggily furrowing her brows.

She wasn’t lying next to a psychopath in a pool of blood, cold and lifeless at his feet. She was in his bed, in his arms even, tangled in the sheets.

Memories and flashes of that night with Maeve, with Diane—the way she’d touched him, the way Maeve had looked. The cases were different, yes, but something felt very familiar to him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed, padding into the living room where the coffee table had been overrun by evidence from the newest murder. The body count was up to eight now, four couples, and the press was having a field day with this; they’d named the unsub The Albatross.

“Cautions issued, he stood shooting the messenger. They tried to warn him about her.”

The words danced across his mind, echoing in his ears as Spencer sat on the sofa, his eyes searching the crime scene photos desperately. The MO had shifted with the latest couple; the once precisely slit throats were no more, instead replaced by a single shot through the heart. The couple themselves were the same—an older man and a younger woman. However, with this couple, there had been an incident—a fatal shooting years back involving a stalker. Spencer shuddered at that information, his stomach twisting as he read the original case report.

“Shooting the messenger…” he scoffed, tossing the note back into the pile of evidence. He sat back, his head lolling tiredly against the back of the sofa as his mind worked overtime, assessing the words on the page as well as the previous notes left behind, trying to find any connection, any story or reason to the cryptic poem.

“What’re you doing up…?” Y/N’s sleepy voice caught him off guard. He turned to glance behind him at the half-asleep woman leaning against the hallway wall. “Rolled over and you weren’t there…” Y/N mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep…” he shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he’d been sleeping just fine—except for the haunting nightmare. He opened his arms for the younger woman, beckoning her to come and sit beside him on the couch. He needed to hold her, to know that she was real, but he wasn’t quite ready to get back in their bed just yet.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Y/N shuffled over, flopping down beside Spencer on the couch, her blurry eyes scanning the photos from the crime scene. She’d seen them earlier before they had inevitably decided to call it a night, but now, something she hadn’t noticed before caught her eye.

Without hesitation, she leaned forward, snatching up the evidence bag that held the latest note, her brow furrowing as she examined the reddish-brown splotches near the edge of the page. 

“Is that blood?” she asked, glancing back at Spencer as she handed it to him.

He stared blankly at the mess for a moment before reaching out for an evidence bag that held yet another cryptic poem—though this one was different—if only because he was fairly certain the unsub’s blood had dripped onto it, considering that when the lab had run it, there was no match to any victim. 

"Poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand."

“Oh—” Y/N shook her head, looking over the victim's hands…not a drop of blood.

“If it’s not from the victim, it’s sloppy…why not start over, why leave a trace behind?” she said softly, fighting a yawn as Spencer nodded slowly. 

“It’s almost like she's giving us a clue—”

“She?” Spencer asked, raising a brow. Dr. Spencer Reid was the king of picking out a female unsub, usually long before anyone else on their team. What had she seen that he’d missed? “How do you know it’s a woman? What stands out to you?” Spencer asked, leaning forward on the couch, observing the mess of case photos.

“Well, up until this last set…the husbands' throats are slit, and these notes are placed in their left palms. It’s brutal, but there’s an art to it.” She hummed, sinking back into the plush cushions of the sofa. “The wives, on the other hand, are laid out peacefully in bed with an albatross feather in their hands. It shows remorse—after the fact, the unsub is giving the women the respect that’s deserved…it's a different kind of death for the women."

“Okay, and what do you think the notes signify?” Spencer encouraged, slipping into teacher mode as his own mind raced a million miles a minute, putting together all of the points she’d made against the profile he’d been building in his mind.

“Well, they’ve always been in the left hand…ancient beliefs said the left hand was feminine, while the right was masculine. Other ancient stories point to your left hand being bad luck…which clearly…” she motioned to the gruesome photos before them with a sigh. “In some literary works, the left side symbolizes decay…death.”

Spencer nodded along. He’d already reached his conclusion, put the puzzle together, and built his profile. Now he was left to guide her, wait, and see if the younger agent would find her way to the same conclusion.

“Why slit their throats?” he asked softly, his eyes trained on the younger woman’s features, carefully analyzing every micro-expression he could find.

“Obviously, our unsub believes the husbands took something significant from their wives. The way our unsub is slitting their throats leads me to believe that she thinks it’s their voices or possibly their autonomy…I mean, we’re dealing with older men… I mean, it’s the history of man, right? To use women? Take something so simple but vital,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s the albatross feather in the woman’s hand…such a heavy symbol, and you said before that the bird is associated with burden and guilt. It feels like the unsub is trying to release the wives from any guilt she believes they’re enduring…she’s just setting them free.”

Spencer nodded. “And this tells you what about our unsub?”

Y/N paused for a moment, thinking over the details before offering Spencer a small shrug and a heavy sigh, “Well, I would say that our unsub is a woman, and these men are surrogates…but she identifies with the wives and feels a need to avenge them.” She glanced up to meet Spencer’s eyes, desperate for the approval of the older agent, which he gave with a small nod, so she continued, “The careful way she arranges their bodies shows she has a sense of empathy… she sees herself in these women.”

“Exactly,” Spencer said with a warm smile. “Why do you think she targets older husbands?”

“She probably has a history with an older man—someone who dominated her or took away her voice. This is her way of reclaiming her power and avenging the other women she sees as victims.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes fluttering between Spencer’s eyes and his lips, as he leaned in to gently press a kiss to her forehead.

“Right…you are one hundred percent correct,” he sighed softly, his eyes raking over her delicate albeit exhausted frame with a frown. “And fortunately for us, this case will still be here when we wake up. Come on, let's get you back to bed…”

With a soft yawn, Y/N nodded, slowly rising to her feet, her hand outstretched for Spencer.

“Come on.”

"But I look to the sky and say

please…"

taglist : @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @guiltyyassin @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @cherrycemeterry @hiireadstuff @r-3dlips @sweetpeterparker @catertotshitposts @purple-flower9 @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome @torturedpoetspsychward @skewedcherries @jackchampiongf13 @bouquetolegoflowers @pleasantwitchgarden @conrad4life13 @jdjwjdjjd @lilyn1909 @liquormoneysex @lynlin379 @imgublergirl

I hope i got everyone! if you’d like to be added to the taglist don’t hesitate to lemme know and as always i’d love to know the thoughts and feelings! So sorry this took so damn long

xo

[utterlyunawarewriter]

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY~

Inspired by the Katy Perry song (if you couldn't tell -_-). Feedback appreciated :D

1. Summer after high-school when we first met

You woke up with an ache in your head and the sharp smell of antiseptic. Sunlight from an open window hit your eyes, causing you to shield them with your hand. Memories of your mom's car driving at a neck breaking speed, weird birds with golden beaks and the revelation of your fellow classmate being a half goat hit you as you sat up in bed.

Someone grabbed your arm, and you recoiled form the contact.

A voice coming from somewhere on your left said, "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you."

You turned to face the voice. "That's something someone who's gonna hurt me would say."

You looked over, only to see a boy with bright blue eyes, wearing scrubs. He looked way too young to be in them.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, a place for demigods. You-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but i know. Mum gave me the basics before I came here."

You got up, slowly blinking at your surroundings. You were in an infirmary filled with empty beds, except for one, occupied with a scowling girl. Another guy, who looked similar to the one next to you, seemed to be scolding her about something.

You stretch your arms above your head and let out a sigh. After being given a small rundown of how things worked, you left the infirmary and stepped out into the blazing sun. Around you camp bustled with life.

Kids of all ages--from young middle schoolers to people who looked like they belonged in college--rushed from one place to the other. Some stood in small groups, talking and laughing loudly. Golden weapons glinted in the sunlight from where they were kept. As you explore the camp, you saw fellow demigods practicing archery, engaging in sword fights and even participating in hand-to-hand combat.

Amidst the lively crowd, a figure stood out--a young man with striking features that seemed to effortlessly draw the gaze of onlookers. A sense of charm and grace seemed to surround him as he made his way through the crowd. With each step, his presence seemed to command attention, turning heads and causing whispers to emerge.

You saw quite a few people stop whatever they were doing when they saw him coming. Some girls let out high giggles. You watched the people part around him....till you realised he was walking toward you.

You quickly tried to hide the fact that you were staring, but unluckily, he noticed. A blush rose up your throat as you desperately tried to play it cool.

"Hey, I'm Luke", he said extending a hand toward you.

"(Name)."

***

2. We made out in your mustang to Radiohead

"Luke"

Kiss

"Luke-"

"I love you, but please shut up (name)."

You laughed as his lips met yours again.

Both of you had sneaked into one of the camp vans after lunch. Both of you had blown off camp duties. Luke had bribed Chris to teach a few sword fighting lessons, and you practically begged Michael to take your shift at the infirmary.

And now, after a week of not seeing Luke, you finally had your boyfriend all to yourself.

It still felt weird, calling him that. You had been a couple for only two months-despite the fact that you had been friends since the moment you stepped into camp-and you could still remember the moment when it happened.

Both of you laid on a blanket near the lake. Like had planned a picnic for just the two of you, and your nerves couldn't settle no matter how hard you tried. He was right next to you. Right there.

He had been doing things and planning cute little dates like this for quite sometime now, which often left you wondering if there was any meaning behind them, other than being friendly.

Your nervousness still wouldn't leave you, so you began pointing out various constellations in the night sky. "That's Hercules, and there's Ursa Major, and thats-" you turned to look at him, only to see his gaze already on you. If heart eyes were a real thing, that was probably the best way to describe the way he looked at you.

You stopped speaking and both of you just stared at each other. You didn't know who moved first, you or Luke. All you knew was that one moment he was next to you, and the other his lips were upon yours.

He pulled back a second later, an apology already leaving his mouth when you grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him again. He moved above you and rested his hands on your waist. Yours wove into his curls.

When you finally broke apart, he smiled. You laughed at that, and his smile got a little brighter.

The memory brought a smile on your face, and Luke noticed.

"What's on your mind, sunshine?"

The nickname caused a flush to rise on your face. "Thinkin' bout you."

"Oh really?"

"Mhmm."

He kissed the corner of you lips, before moving down your neck. You let out a content sigh and drew mindless patterns on the back of his shirt with your finger.

Just then somebody knocked on the van door.

"Guys, you might wanna hurry this up. Chiron's looking for the two of you."

***

3. And on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos

You stifled a laugh as you watched your boyfriend trip over a tree root because he was too busy looking at you.

His face held an expression on mock hurt as you grinned at his fall. You reached an arm out to help him up, and he took it, only to pull you down with him.

You landed on top of him, and winced. A wave of pain shot up from your upper arm, where underneath your shirt lay a brand new tattoo. Luke noticed your discomfort and moved. He also got one, but his was on his chest.

He lifted your shirt and pressed a soft kiss to the design. "Does that make it better, birthday girl?"

The corner of your mouth lifted. "Much better."

In honour of your 18th birthday today, the two of your snuck out of camp to get matching tattoos, something you always wanted. Now after successfully sneaking out of camp, reaching a tattoo parlor with running into trouble, getting a tattoo, and sneaking back into camp, you were on your way back to your respective cabins.

You looked at your watch. "Actually, my birthday ended, like two and a half hours ago."

"That doesn't count."

"I'm pretty sure it does.....We should get back, Luke. Someone might notice."

"Let them." He kissed you, making tremors run up and down your spine.

***

4. Used to steal you parents liquor, and climb to the roof. Talk about our future like we had a clue

The cheap whiskey burned as you downed it in one go. Luke watched you with amusement.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He had that stupid look on his face, the one that made you want to kiss it off. He poured you another glass and you brought it to your lips again.

Empty bottles of gods-know-what lay on the roof of cabin 1, with empty glasses scattered around them.

"It can't be nothing, Luke." Your words slurred together as the alcohol took effect. You would definitely be regretting these desicions in the morning, but for now, you reveled in drunken glory.

"Okay, okay, hear me out," he waved his hands dramatically. "We should buy a van when we leave camp. Like, a big one. And travel the world. Just you, me, and the open road."

You giggled, your cheeks flushed from the wine. "A van? We’d look ridiculous!"

"Exactly!" Luke laughed, leaning closer. "We’d be the coolest couple ever. Imagine it—waking up on a beach, cooking breakfast in the back of our van, and just… living."

You bit your lip, your heart swelling at the thought. "That does sound amazing. But what about monsters? Money? You can’t just live off love and good vibes."

"We’ll figure it out! We can be like those mortal influencers or something. Post pictures of our adventures, and people will pay us to travel!"

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. "And what if no one wants to pay us? What then, Mr. Influencer?"

"Then we’ll just sell the van and live in a treehouse!" he declared, raising his glass in a toast. "To treehouses and adventures!"

"To treehouses and adventures!" You echoed, clinking your glass against his. The warmth of the whiskey and the excitement of your dreams made everything feel possible.

As the two of two sipped, you leaned your head on Luke’s shoulder, feeling safe and content. "You know, I really like this idea. Just us against the world. But… what if we don’t want to live in a van forever?"

Luke paused, considering your words. "Then we’ll find a home. A cozy little place with a garden. We can grow our own vegetables and have a dog. Maybe a cat too. We can name them… uh, what’s a good name?"

"Definitely not 'van'," you teased, nudging him playfully. "But I like that idea. A home."

"Exactly!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "We’ll make it happen, (name). I can feel it."

You sat in comfortable silence, both lost in thoughts and away from the worries that came with being a demigod.

***

5. Never thought that one day, I'll be losing you...

"I-what?" You couldn't believe what you heard. You didn't want to believe what you heard.

"The gods are terrible people (name)! Think about all those unclaimed campers in cabin 11! They don't care about us. They never did and never will!"

"Luke, I know. Trust me, I know. But what you are suggesting...thats-thats crazy! The gods aren't perfect but-" the titan lord's name died on your tongue"-he'll be so much worse!"

You paced around the forest, leaves crunching under your feet. Luke brought you there being extremely secretive. You thought he might have planned a cute date, but you never expected this.

"(Name), just listen." He begged. You never saw him like this before. He looked at you with such desperation ypu didn't have any choice other than to hear him out.

"I know you're hesitant, but the Olympians have had they're chances so many damn times! And look where its gotten us! They treat us like pawns in their games!

"But with the Titans." He paused, and a hint of pride seeped into his voice. "We can forge our own path. Imagine a place where you’re not just a demigod, but a force to be reckoned with. You’d have the chance to prove yourself, to rise up and be part of something greater than any of us." Luke's voice softened slightly, as if sharing a secret. "I believe in you. I know you have what it takes to join us. Together, we can make a difference—one that will echo through history. (Name), will you stand with me and fight for our future?" His gaze held yours, waiting for your response, the weight of the decision heavy in the air.

"I...." You didn't know what to say. Luke said everything with such confidence that for a moment--but only a moment--you believed him. Your choice was already made.

Your hands found your blade, the one hidden inside your pocket. One moment, you stood infront of him defenceless, and the other you had pinned him against a tree, you dagger at his throat.

"Luke, please. You don't have to do this." Tears stung your eyes, but you didn't let them fall.

Luke's eyes hardened. "You know, Percy said the same thing."

Your eyes widened is shock. "Luke...what did you do?"

"He's near the creek. You should hurry, he doesn't have much time."

This time ypu couldn't stop your tears. A few escaped your eyes as you turned in the direction of the creek, leaving Luke Castellan to his fate. Whatever it would be.

____________________________________

My masterlist

[creativesaturn]

hey!! i absolutely love your writing style, and i have notifications specifically on so i don’t miss when you post :) i had an idea that literally just came to me but i don’t really have any plot to go with it 😭

so basically, any cm character (maybe hotch, emily or spence?) walking in on the reader drawing said character & the reader gets really embarrassed and tries to put it away, but the character actually really likes the drawing and asks to keep it and just something wholesome idk 😭🫶

absolutely don’t feel pressured to write this, just had an idea and thought i’d share <3

Summary: Hotch finds out about your drawing hobby.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 515

a/n: sorry this took so long to post! I wanted to scrap it and redo it but I decided not to. That's really sweet of you thank you so much!!! hope you enjoy 💞💞

Aaron knocked on your hotel door, not once, but twice.

You were too busy listening to music that filled your sense of hearing, and completely focusing on the pencil in your hand.

For the past few days you've been struggling to find something to draw. It was one of your hobbies that you genuinely enjoyed, but it was always hard finding motivation.

But today, on the jet. You burned the image of Aaron sitting by the window during the sunset, just so you could draw it later. It was a sight for sore eyes. You didn't care if he could notice you staring, you needed to keep every detail engraved in your mind.

So--as soon as you step foot in your hotel room, you knew exactly what you were going to do.

"y/n?" Aaron's voice startling you as he stood inches behind you.

You quickly turned around, looking up at the tall man. You pulled your headphones out your ears; mouth agape unsure what to say.

He glances behind you to see what had your attention, his face had an expression you couldn't quite make out. So, you thought of the worst.

You quickly turned back, taking the piece of paper to turn over and hide.

"Is that me?" He asked, voice soft as he spoke.

"Uhm--Yeah.. Yeah, it-it is.." You stumbled over your own words, "It's totally stupid though, 's not even done yet." You mumbled, your voice so low he was unsure if he heard you.

"It's not stupid," He retorted, reaching for the paper. You quickly pulled back, watching his eyes as they widened.

"Let me see."

"No.."

"Please?"

You looked down at your hands, sighing as you slowly handed him the paper. You fidgeted with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in his expression.

"You're very good with details," He complimented you. "Where'd you learn how to do this?" He asked sincerely, looking up from the drawing to look at your face.

"Just something I learned over the years," You shrugged. "I get bored a lot." You looked up at him, profiling his reaction.

He had a soft smile, his eyebrows raised as if he was impressed and you swore his eyes glistened.

"Can I keep it?" Aaron asked.

"You--You want to keep it?" You asked, shocked at the question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, bringing the page down to his side to show he had his attention on you.

"Because.. I don't know..." You shrugged, unable to hide the smile that he gave you.

"The team is waiting for us, by the way." Aaron laughed, seeing the bright pink that danced across your face.

"Okay." You nodded, making your exit out of the hotel.

Not many people knew you drew, at least well. When you'd tell people they expect stick figures and doodles you'd find on the side of a middle schoolers test. And every time they'd notice, it was always the same expression. It never failed to bring you joy and validation from others compliments.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[gabessquishytum]

Ever since he was a child, Dream has been in love with Hob. Only one problem: Hob was his babysitter and nextdoor neighbor.

Hob was in high school and he’d babysit middle schooler Dream sometimes and he had no idea the reason Dream was so surly was that he was deep in puppy love. And so jealous of hob’s boyfriend he could cry. Once he saw them making out in a car and he threw a rock at the windshield.

But years have passed. Dream is home from college with lots of experience under his belt, all of which he’s determined to use to finally seduce hob.

Hob married that highschool boyfriend but he’s gone to seed. They aren’t in love anymore and hob is in his late twenties feeling like his life is over. He’s tired of getting ignored unless his husband wants dinner, and getting fucked without any attention to his pleasure. Dream knows exactly how poorly hob’s husband fucks him. He’s watched from outside the window.

Hob is just as beautiful as dream remembers. His husband doesn’t appreciate him so he shouldn’t get to keep him. Dream jerks off just at the sight of hob, just imagining what it would be like if dream was the one fucking his perfect body. He knows he could give him all the pleasure he’ll ever need.

Hob will be so happy to see that little boy he was once fond of. But he isn’t prepared for dream to come at him like a heat seeking missile, determined to finally have hob to himself like he always wanted.

Preferably in hob’s bed while his stupid husband is at work.

Hnnnngngg yeah this is. Yeah.

Hob is trying his best out here, okay. He's trying to be a good husband. He cooks nice meals, he arranges nice dates, he tries to communicate and he's constantly trying to liven things up in the bedroom. But Will seems to have checked out of the marriage emotionally. He doesn't even have the decency to check whether Hob has even cum. And Hob doesn't want a failed marriage when he's barely halfway through his twenties, but that's how it is.

Dream's return is... opportune. To say the least. Suddenly Hob has someone to grab coffee with, someone to feed those nice meals to when Will doesn't bother coming home. Someone to talk to. Dream was always such a sweet boy and now he's handsome, too. Hob figures he deserves a little eye candy, under the circumstances.

But there's nothing sweet in the way Dream looks at Hob. Menacing, hungry, needy. Hob would be creeped out if he wasn't flattered. He knows that Dream has been watching, and maybe he's been putting on a bit of a show. He hasn't felt like he was even worth looking at for a while. Now he bends over in his bedroom and fucks himself with four fingers, in full view of the window. He knows that Dream is parked out in his car, watching and jerking off. He's been inside Dream’s car before, and he's sure he could smell his release.

It's not going to be long now. Hob’s self control is slipping. He answers the door to Dream shirtless, he allows those touches that skim down over his back and arse. He gets tipsy with Dream over dinner and rubs his foot up against Dream’s hard cock, through his jeans.

He really kind of hopes that Will comes home to see Dream fucking him in the middle of their loveless marital bed. The marriage is past saving, and the thought of having Dream’s cum inside him makes Hob ache. Dream will never ignore him or let him down, that's for sure.

And as for what Dream thinks? He knows that he'll get what he wants eventually. As soon as his pathetic husband is humiliated, Dream is taking Hob out of this shithole to somewhere he can shine.

Good things come to those who wait.

[pristinekanesays]

 🦋 Life Is Strange: Relationship Headcanons.

🦋 some short headcanons on what it's like in a relationship with my six favourites :)

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: cheesy romantic stuff, swearing, jealousy, insecurities and toxic relationships (nathan)

🎧A/N: I send these out faster than my brain can handle, I have no idea why it hasn't turned to pure dust yet.

🦋Chloe Price:

🤍Wacky, trashy dates that don't cost a ton of money, she definitely cannot afford to go to super expensive places so the junkyard, train tracks and just simply walking about late at night is the best you're gonna get.

🤍On one date, she bought/possibly stole this tacky little lighthouse figure for you so you could put it nearby and when you see it, you'll automatically think of her.

🤍She was SO nervous asking you out even if you guys were super close, like shaking and fidgeting with her hands type of nervous.

🤍Offers to paint your nails sometimes but she literally only owns black nail polish, so you'll have to make do.

🤍She totally believes she's a badass 100%, I'd be lying if I said she hasn't climbed through your window at least once.

🤍Jealous? She's in the middle, she trusts you but is also scared some dickhead is gonna get the wrong idea.

🍂Kate Marsh:

🤍She seems like she'd enjoy those cute little picnic dates or movie nights, as long as it's not a horror movie. Kate can't cope when she's watching ANYTHING horror-wise, she's holding onto your arm the whole time.

🤍She'll buy you a small gift here and there but she also likes sketching you or painting your favourite place to go together, she's pretty artistic.

🤍If you couldn't tell already, she ADORES you, she could literally spend hours just looking at you.

🤍When she finally confesses to you, she cries happy tears and stares at you in pure disbelief as if she's just waiting for you to tell her it's a prank or somethin'.

🤍Kate trusts you entirely and knows you won't just leave her, not after all the things you guys have gone through together.

📷Max Caulfield:

🤍You have to be on pretty good terms with Chloe, she's literally Max's best friend. As long as you aren't a major asshole, you'll be fine.

🤍She takes photos of you, so many photos. Photos at the beach, photos at the diner, photos of you half asleep, photos of you in a banana costume that one halloween, photos of you brushing your teeth.

🤍It's like dating your best friend, even if you guys weren't that close when you first met, you are now motherfucker!

🤍Max can't cook, at all. Do not expect anything other than burnt grilled cheese or off-brand cereal if you were to ever get anything breakfast-wise.

🤍If you can cook then, oh boy! She will definitely refer to you as her beloved private chef with a huge grin on her face.

🤍Max thinks being jealous is for cheesy middle schoolers, she doesn't really care.

 🎭Rachel Amber:

🤍Oh my god, she fucking loves you. In her eyes, you're literally an angel with wings that she scored with pure luck, she 100% hangs out with you nearly all time and is a little paranoid that something could happen to you out of the blue.

🤍Expensive gifts, you're literally collecting them from her at this point. On your birthday, she read out a poem she wrote herself with dramatics and all.

🤍She has to be really close with you to fall genuinely head over heels so, well done!

🤍Unlike Max, Rachel can actually cook like she could serve up a whole 5 star, three course meal with rarely any effort.

🤍She has a box under her bed which is just full of photos and sketches of the both of you.

🤍It's in Rachel's blood to be..a little jealous, she'd be broken if you were to just lose interest in her completely.

 🎬Victoria Chase:

🤍Shocker but you HAVE to get along with Nathan, or somehow tolerate him but I can understand how that could be hard.

🤍Victoria is so damn wealthy and is nearly always buying you cute little necklaces or expensive ass things to put in your room, she loves going on dates with you but she'll freak out if anyone sees you together in public and you aren't nearly as popular as her.

🤍She also takes photos of you a lot, she has a weird nerdy side that only you and Nathan really know about.

🤍If she's open about your relationship, she definitely posts those cheesy middle-school posts about you and refers to you as `her light, her inspiration and the moon to her sun` she 100% sees herself as the sun because she's bright and fun and you're just you.

🤍Victoria gets jealous SO easily. She has to bite her tongue to stop her from saying something she shouldn't sometimes, she'll just look at you with an annoyed ass look on her face if you're doing something she doesn't like.

🎮 Warren Graham:

🤍Ever stayed up till 4:30AM playing shitty ass multiplayer games with snacks in your lap like you need junk food to survive? Well, now you'll be doing that all the time with him! He seriously won't give up and he's the first person to let you know when the new game you guys have been wanting to buy is on sale.

🤍He's a dork but he's a dork that helps you with studying when you need it, he's already outside your door before you can even pick up your phone to text him.

🤍You know those zodiac tiktoks kids make? Yeah, he'll have a fucking fit if they're not accurate and he seriously believes those but will pretend he doesn't.

🤍He'll maybe buy you a cheap ass video game here and there but other than that he'll probably just write you a little love letter and slide it under your door which is SO fucking cute.

🤍Warren can get jealous sometimes and I feel like he'd be kind of insecure about if he's a good boyfriend or not.

 🧨Nathan Prescott:

🤍If I'm being honest, it isn't the healthiest relationship exactly and he freaks the fuck out if you stop replying to his texts suddenly because he needs your attention constantly.

🤍He's terrified that you'll get fed up of his shitty behaviour and bail, so he's constantly trying to make it up to you. He'll buy you a new camera, expensive equipment or just blow up your phone if that doesn't work.

🤍He'd be open about your relationship depending on your popularity and if you're a guy or not, he's still probably going through some denial but he still loves you the same even if he's a complete asshole.

🤍Nathan suffers from really bad nightmares and without warning you'll just wake up to him shuffling around your room in the middle of the night and then ask if he can stay over but pretend he didn't the next day, even though it keeps happening nearly every night.

🤍So jealous, like really jealous, he wants you to only have eyes for him and is a sucker for your attention only.

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 4

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

you have a sweet encounter with leon, and there's already talk of ada and leon being together despite the moment you shared.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

content contains: mild angst, is this even enemies to lovers? i dont know anymore., mean leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2119 words

song rec: "dust in the wind" by kansas

Teaching the fundamentals of music was no easy feat.

As I sat in the center of my room, a felt a growing frustration sit in the pit of my stomach as my eyes darted from paper to paper, thinking of ways to teach dynamics and balancing to middle schoolers. My music books from years ago were scattered around me, terrorizing each cell in my brain as I painstakingly search for simpler ways to teach these techniques to my students, who'll be coming over for their first lesson tomorrow afternoon.

The night breeze flowed from my open window, making some of the scores flitter around. I sigh tiredly, flopping down to lay on my back in an attempt to calm my nerves. The carpet beneath me tickled my cheek as I turned to lay on my side, my hands fiddling with the white fabric as the cool air soothed me. Slowly, my eyes drooped closed as I succumbed to sleep.

But the moment is short lived.

Drifting to my ears was the sweet sound of a guitar, echoing from wall-to-wall in my bedroom. The tune was vaguely familiar, and I found myself crawling to my little window nook in curiosity. I plop myself up on the small seat, peeping out of the window to search for the source of the sound. The streetlights flickered outside, the road silent save for the sweet music playing in the distance. My eyes focus on the house across from my own, squinting at the window parallel from me.

A warm glow emanated from the opened glass, inviting me to take a look. I can't see too much save for a desk with the source of the light on top of it. I bite my lower lip anxiously as I stare from my own window, wondering if that's where I'm hearing the music from.

Suddenly, the strings stop playing, and feel a sense of sorrow as silence fills the night. As I get up to go back to my spot on the floor, a familiar figure makes way to the window across the street.

Leon slumps down into his desk chair, placing an ebony guitar on his desk with a thump!. Immediately, I notice a string dangling from the side of the lump of wood, and I realize that he had been the one playing tonight. The blonde ace digs through the drawers of his desk, fishing out a roll of string and some other tools I couldn't quite name. Curiously, I watch the boy change the string, carefully tuning his seemingly well-loved acoustic guitar as he pokes his tongue out in concentration. When he was satisfied with the way it sounded after playing a short practice tune, he went back to playing, relaxing in his desk chair.

It was mesmerizing.

The way his fingers effortlessly plucked at the strings made my brain buzz. Deftly, he played chords that went along with Kansas' "Dust in the Wind". The music whistled to me across the street, throwing me into a trance as I rest my head on the window sill.

If I focused hard enough, I could hear Leon singing the lyrics beneath his breath, as if muttering them were a sin. His blonde locks of hair framed his face perfectly, the yellow glow of his desk-light contouring the lines of his strong jaw. My heart fluttered oddly at the peaceful sight. The further into the song Leon got, the louder he would get. I eventually heard him clearly from across the street.

Completely enamored, I lost myself in the sickeningly sweet voice of his, humming along with the ace from my spot. As Leon sang, he looked up from his instrument, and we locked eyes.

His lips don't stop moving.

Leon continues to serenade me, seemingly unbothered by our recent issues. The ocean blue of his eyes hooked me in, and I could no longer focus on the way his voice sounded or how the pads of his fingers drifted across the fretboard of his guitar. His voice went through one ear and out the other, and I could feel my breath hitch in my parched throat. I'm completely unaware of how the song has ended, our stares never faltered.

His lips are pressed into a straight line as he looks at me from across the street, baby blues gazing into my own.

And then I wave.

I fucking wave at him.

In my awkward trance, my hand swings back and forth in front of me, greeting him with a cheesy smile from my window. Leon waves back, just as awkwardly, as he threads his other hand through his hair, his guitar tucked securely in his lap. I feel a blush creep up my neck, flushing the skin a soft pink as I bite the inside of my cheek. Suddenly, I get an idea.

I lift my index finger in the air, silently asking him to wait. I see his eyebrows knit together confusedly as I turn away from my window, rummaging around my room to find my old black board and a piece of chalk from my book bag. I sit on my knees on the nook of my window, scribbling my thoughts onto the board before showing it to Leon.

"You play beautifully," I wrote to him in neat letters. I see Leon squint, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim streetlights. Leon moves quickly to set his guitar to the side to then dig through his desk drawers, pulling out a spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen. In big, red, and sloppy penmanship, he writes back,

"THANKS I'M GLaD yOu LIKE THE sERenAdE."

My eyes crease as I giggle at him from across the road when I notice how horrendous his writing is, facing my blackboard to myself to reply to him.

"How long have you been playing?" I question him, trying to write large enough for him to read. Leon scribbles on a new page.

"LIKE ?? SINCE I waS 7?" He responds, his lettering bold and messy.

"That's interesting. You didn't strike me as a music person," I write. I see Leon's face burn a soft pink despite the gap between us. He flips to a new page, quickly jotting down his response.

"RUnS iN THE fAmILY. DAD LoVES MUSiC," he flashes the paper to me, the paper crinkling beneath his tight grip. I nod at him from my end, smiling softly. I smudge off the chalk on my board.

"Well, it was beautiful," I show him the board before writing another response. "You should sing more often."

"WiLL You LISTeN IF i DO?" He asks me, an odd look in his eyes as he stares at me from his desk. I gape at him slightly, unsure of how to respond to the ace. Hesitantly, I nod, and I see a sheepish grin paint across his face.

"Goodnight, Leon," I bid him farewell before setting my small blackboard down, shutting the window with a soft click!. I gaze at Leon from behind the glass, seeing him wave at me with his notebook in the other hand.

"NIGHTY-NiGHT," it says in the worst handwriting I've ever seen. I giggle softly before I draw the curtains closed.

That night, I had a sweet dream.

The next day, I'm walking through the halls with my Sony Walkman buzzing through my skull, blasting "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass into my ears. I had thirty minutes before the first period bell rings, giving me enough time to hang out with the girls as I always do. Entering the lunch room, I immediately spot the group of girls at a round table tucked into a corner.

"Sweet pea~!!" Samantha practically shouts above the crowd from her seat atop the table, waving her arm in the air. I jog up to her and the rest of the girls, greeting them with a smile.

"Is that your new oboe?" Patti points her daintily manicured index finger at the thin, black case in my left hand.

"Yeah... I tried playing it over the weekend. It's a bit poor quality for the level I play at, but it'll last me until our concert season officially begins," I sigh, frowning softly.

"Man...!" Lucy sniffles. "This is terrible! I can't believe Leon would do that to you--I mean, one of our best players gets their signature instrument trashed? That's honestly a sin!!" The blonde shoved her face into her hands, and I was worried that she was about to cry. Samantha huffs at this.

"It's whatever. We're going to be starting our fundraiser when football season starts up here in a few weeks, so we'll get her a new oboe by then," the ravenette says confidently, rubbing her hand onto my shoulder. I squirm in my seat as I think of whether or not I should tell them about what happened last night.

"Speakin' of Kennedy, have you heard about him and Ada Wong?" Patti mentions, and I visibly perk up at the subject.

"Wong?? What about her?" Samantha quirked an eyebrow, her fingers lacing together under her chin as she looked at our friend curiously.

"Apparently, her and Leon are dating! They went on a date over the weekend, and even went to Hattie's!" Patti rambled excitedly, eager to share the new info that's probably spreading around the schools like wildfire. I hear Samantha scoff next to me, and I just know she's rolling her eyes.

"Of course, he's in cahoots with her of all people," she scowls. "Dami's girl—he's probably trying to spite the poor guy," Samantha audibly recalls my brother's past relationship with the class president. I pout slightly at her suggestion, praying that wasn't true.

For the sake of my brother or for the sake of myself, I'm unsure.

"Are you sure they're dating? I mean..." I tap my fingers against my bottom lip in thought. "Leon's only been in Everglade for less than a week... How could he jump into Ada's tits so quickly?" I question. Patti shrugs her shoulders.

"Ada's got that charm, I guess," she scoffs gently. I hum in response, not sure on how to respond. I look down at the charms on my oboe case, which I had transferred from my old case. The bunny stared back at me with its beady, black eyes, comforting me. I look back up at my group to tell them about what happened last night, but I'm stopped when I see the devil walk past our little table.

In a woody-brown Carhartt jacket, blue jeans, and worn-out Timberlands was Leon Scott Kennedy. In his hands was a carton of strawberry milk, tossed up and down as he sauntered past our table. I watched his face closely, noticing immediately how he took a quick peek at me from the corner of his eyes. When he's out of earshot, the girls all sigh at the same time, as if they held their breaths the entire time he was within 5 feet of us.

"His ass is so tight in those jea-"

"Patti!!!"

"Sorry, Sam..."

I stifle a giggle behind the palm of my hand, a blush painting my face red as Samantha scolds the poor brunette for ogling at the "new" guy. I ignore them as I watch Leon take a seat at a long table near the center of the lunchroom. He's cozy next to Ada Wong, who's sporting a scarlet-hued sweater over a black collared shirt. Her hair is perfectly styled, like always, and there's a soft red gloss on her lips. There's an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watch Leon swing his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a side-hug situation. The smile on his face is wide, and he looks at-ease in his table filled with sweat-rags and other jock freakazoids.

"You have to admit, they do look good together," my best friend hums, looking over at me. I give Samantha a small frown in return, nodding in agreement as we all stole glances at the terrible sight in front of us.

Leon looks up at me for a split second, but it feels like ages to me. I see his fingers twitch on Ada's shoulder, as if he was planning to wave at me, but he stops himself.

His attention returns to the woman in red.

"I guess we shouldn't have expected much from a Greenvale student," Patti yawns, turning her attention to the dirt between her nails. The table exchanges mumbles of agreement, and I feel the feeling in my tummy get worse for some reason. The girls chat among themselves as I lose myself in my thoughts.

Chemistry is going to be awful.

i wanted to make this chapter a little sweet as an apology for the lack of updates AND as a thank you for 100 followers! it means so much to me that you guys are all so supportive :,]

a little taglist: @bonnibuckets @umooooo74 @kurawooooooo @ilovemen1242

[jq37]

Little bittersweet that this might be Fig's swan song. There's like this "six seasons and a movie" mentality that makes me feel like Senior Year is the finish line, so just stick it out for one more. But, if creatively Emily doesn't feel like she can get any more out of the character, then that's that. It's best to move on rather than force it. Or not. It's the end of her time at Aguefort, doesn't mean it's the end of her time with the Bad Kids. The school part of these characters being high schoolers only really came into play this season, so let's wait and see. Emily considered retiring Fig at the start of this season and changed her mind. It could happen again.

On to the fun stuff:

-Gorgug didn't get a last hit on Porter, but he did get a clutch assist in with a narratively satisfying move that uses his Artificer class instead of his Barbarian class, helping drive the last nail in on Porters coffin. *chefs kiss* Going out of Rage while doing it was a perfect way to twist the knife.

-Riz's kill line on KP was stone cold.

-Everyone else's contributions were valuable but none more so than the newest Bad Kid, The Lava. Taking out five major threats during the battle. What a trooper and a strong candidate for Honor Roll.

-I came around on Mary Anne too. I get why some of the Intrepid Heroes were so obsessed with flipping her allegiances.

There's a lot this season that gives a strong finale vibe, but besides that hook at the end there's another thing that keeps going unresolved. Sol and his church keep fucking around and it's about damn time they find out. I don't think Senior Year will be a full-on religious crusade, but it doesn't feel like that plot point should be off the table. And what the fuck is Kalinas deal? So she was never loyal to Cass?

I hope we don't have to wait another 4 years for the next chapter of Fantasy High to get an answer to those questions.

Fig honestly would prob go to school more if she wasn't required to so it's absolutely an Emily decision more than it is a story decision. It's hard to picture FH without her but I'm sure she'll come up with something fun if she's still feeling like retiring Fig whenever they get around to Senior Year.

I think it's arguably MORE fitting that Gorgug didn't get the last hit in and instead got him with a gadget that didn't even do damage. It's like, he got Porter and not even in a way that Porter would respect because it wasn't rageful and violent. That's gotta suck more than if Gorgug had just punched him hard and KO'd him.

The lava was just so so good. It's like when you're a warlock and technically you could do other stuff but spamming Eldritch Blast just gets you the most bang for your buck so you keep doing it. Once they figured out the lava strat, they basically had to keep using it. Lava MVP for sure.

Mary Ann being so checked out for the whole evil plot even while participating in it is so funny. Honestly, queen shit.

I really think that if Kalina is actually bad then that's a retcon from Brennan because that's never been how familiars work and Kalina did try to help them consistently throughout the season with the Spy's Tongue Curse clue. She only attacked them when she got hit with a rage crystal and that was godly interference.

I agree that there are a lot of loose ends re: The Church of Sol (Buddy, Bobby and Sandra Lynn, Helio's lack of a chosen one, Bucky's whole deal, the Helioic pantheon shakeup--how crazy is it that Cass never talks to any of her celestial sibs?). I hope that if we explore that we get to see more about the actual people of the church rather than just the gods because there was a huge god focus in back to back seasons and, as I've mentioned before, if Spyre rules mean that gods are a reflection of their followers, their followers are honestly more interesting. I can't really be mad at Sol for being what he is when his chill level is determined by Bobby Dawn and co, you know? He has limited agency as an entity. Cut out the middle man and let's chase down Bobby directly.

[eternal-armin]

'CAUSE HE THINKS he's made of candy.

i think this is the longest thing i've ever written here, around 6.7k words and i had to revise it a lot because it took up too much space ;;; the title is a reference to candy by robbie williams because that song slaps hard

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader. [he/him pronouns]

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where : after surviving the apocalypse together and saving the world, things finally return to normal, in good ways and in bad ways.

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warnings : mentions of trauma, some light mentions of gore, reader has a congenital insensitivity to pain and find getting injured amusing, so... a lot of that kind of trouble. i totally wanna do another part or so because klaus and diego being father figures gives me life

you walked through the half-dark house, making your way to five's room like you had many times, skateboard in one hand and phone in the other. making sure you hadn't waken anybody up, you opened the door, greeted by the expected sight of a dark bedroom and the sound of gentle snoring. "five, wake up~," you whispered, half singing, shaking his arm, steadily waking him up. he looked annoyed, his brow already furrowed and a frown already tugging at his lips, but he wasn't angry. he was rather used to it by now, in all honesty. "your favorite person ever in the entire world is here!" you hummed. five could basically smell the grin you wore.

"and i wish he would go away," he grumbled in response, trying to turn back over and go back to sleep, only for you to flick on the light and blind him. "jesus christ, a fucking―a warning next time, please?"

"shove your warnings up your ass, five, you can miss out on your middle schooler sleep schedule for a night."

"many nights, actually," he hissed distastefully, giving a mourning glance to the cozy pillow before he sat up, now disappointingly awake. "what do you want this time?" the grogginess was now leaving his voice, but not really his eyes. five almost looked nice when sleepy, even if he looked pissed as hell at being woken up. at least your face was a little more pleasant to look at now that you were back to your teenage self.

"let's go shopping."

five looked at you like you were utterly insane, then slowly looked over at his clock. he cocked his head at you. "it's almost midnight."

"mm, did i stutter?"

"i wish you did. i'm not going shopping with you at midnight. no place is even open." five tried to put his foot down. he was a steel wall to anyone else. but to you―perhaps for you, he was simply a clay plot, one easy to crack the more water you filled it with. it was nice to spend time with you without the entire world desolate and destroyed around you, at least.

"who said the place had to be open?" you shot back with a cheeky grin. five wished that he could be surprised with your blatant delinquency. at some points it had done you both well and your affinity for breaking rules, laws, and regulations gave you a peculiar resourcefulness, but now that you were both safe and home, well... you'd become a mischievous troublemaker. just how you used to be.

"... how the hell did we ever become friends." his voice was utterly flat and his expression exhausted and peeved and yet he still stood up, shrugging the blankets off of himself, heading to his closet because he would be damned if you were going to get hurt and he wouldn't be there to laugh at you.

well, you didn't really get hurt, did you?

"i dunno, but i'm sure you regret your decision." five didn't respond to that. "i will satiate your worries, though, old man, it's an abandoned mall this time."

"wow. character development. didn't expect that from you." with the newfound information he searched for something decent to wear. something that allowed him to move and remain covered by shadows should any unsavory things come to pass.

"hey, hey, i went from crying when i stepped on an ant to killing people, and even if that's negative character development, it's still character development, okay? stop underselling me." you leaned against the wall next to his door, skateboard lounging beside you, picking at your nails. he finally took a full glance at you now that sleep was totally gone from his mind and his body, narrowing his eyes. you were wearing jean shorts, an old nirvana t-shirt, and a hawaiian button-down completely unbuttoned. at least you were wearing knee-pads this time around, but that was all the praise he could give you. five still found himself stunned that you so brazenly didn't care about how visible your scars were; scars from broken bones, scrapes, cuts, gashes, burns, stabs, bullets, shrapnel. you paraded them about like they were boy scout badges which was almost hilarious because you never learned anything from the incidents which now lined your body. even though five would never do it himself, and in fact found it incredibly weird, he kind of respected it. admired it, even. but just that one thing, nothing else. never.

"what, see something you like, old man?" you mused, going from fidgeting with your fingers to looking him in the eye, your own glinting with a bit of cheekiness. not the worst thing to be woken up to in the middle of the night.

five scoffed. "never in my life." you rolled your eyes at that sarcastic response and your grin did not fade. "you're―you're seriously wearing that?"

"hey, i dress my age, mr. retired-man-with-dementia-who-only-remembers-how-to-play-bingo, alright? leave me be." neither of you were bothered by bickering whilst five changed from pajamas to day clothes. he wasn't getting totally naked, so neither of you really gave a shit.

"'dress your age'..." he muttered. "you dress like a blind tween."

"thanks, hot stuff."

"that wasn't a compliment."

"i literally could not care less," you shot back, then winked at him, adding, "lovingly."

five faked a chuckle in some sort of hum sound, shooting you a falsified grin before returning to what he was doing. "i don't want your love. i'm good."

you frowned a bit yourself, which was totally and utterly unnerving and made five, somehow, regret what he said a little bit. "ouch, dude, tell me how you really feel."

"you couldn't comprehend even the most elementary of my emotions, so i'll spare you the headache." he glanced at you a few times, more so at that lingering twinge of unhappiness that so brazenly took over your expression. those words were typically the closest you would ever get to verbal reassurance or comfort from five, not just because he was completely incapable of voicing his own emotions properly, but because physicality did more for you than talking ever did; so, with a comfortable, neutral flannel now hiding his previously exposed torso, he placed a hand on your shoulder. he was always gentle with you, which completely didn't make sense because if anyone in the world needed to be treated gently it would certainly not be you.

a little smile found its way back on your lips. now reassured that not everything was wrong with the world, five pulled on a dark sweater and paperboy cap. you looked him over. "you really look like a retiree now," you mused, but it wasn't an insult. he looked nice like this, out of that hellish uniform, and never could you imagine him in anything else. "do you wanna hit the golf course too, gramps? i'm sure they got some mocktails for you since you wanna keep the drinking to a minimum tonight."

"shut it before i make you." he spoke through gritted teeth, jabbing a finger at you, only succeeding in making you grin.

"is that a threat or a promise?" you clicked your tongue, picking up your skateboard and heading for the door before he could say anything else. "the old tree is, like, a twenty-five-minute walk."

"i'll just blink us, i'm not spending another thirty minutes with you on a skateboard on rough sidewalks, i don't even wanna think about what would happen this time."

"it was so cool, though! i never thought a compound fracture could look like that!"

"[y/n], you only think it's cool because you couldn't feel the pain."

"uh, yeah," you said back, raising a brow at him while he shut off the light to his room and closed the door behind you two. "but it was still cool." you had your bubbly little grin again and five rolled his eyes. despite all that trouble, all that excessive worry he would never admit to feeling, five still looked back somewhat fondly on those times. back when you were ten, still learning how to skateboard, and your parents didn't even give you a helmet or joint pads, when you broke your ankle and didn't even know something had happened until five pointed it out.

after taking one hell of a tumble, hearing the board crack a bit beneath you, you let out a breathless huff, allowing yourself a moment to absorb the sudden shift in, well, everything. five perked up at the sound, surprised you weren't crying or something after falling like that. you stood up and brushed yourself off like nothing was wrong, peering strangely down at the board, which had no damage. you pushed it back and forth once or twice with one foot and it seemed undamaged. that was weird. you'd heard it break, right? five came up to your side, glancing you over once or twice, before his eyes settled down at your feet. "you've got a little something on, uh―" five cut himself off, eyes wide, and you knew that shit was bad when he looked at you like that. he looked about as shocked as one could be, and that unnerved you to no end.

"what? what, did i..." you looked down at your shirt to make sure you hadn't torn it up or anything or were totally exposed, somehow completely not noticing the broken ankle on which you were unsteadily standing, chalking it up to you still half-standing on your skateboard. "what, i don't see what's wrong this picture. stop being cryptic with me, man, you know i'm dumb as shit."

"well―i mean, you aren't wrong about that 'dumb as shit' thing, but i think you just fully busted your ankle." his curtness was plain and simple, and you had already known back then that it would be a constant in his attitude. you looked down, then back up, your eyes wide and mouth twisted as you poorly suppressed a grin and a very annoying giggle. "don't look at me like that! how―how are you not feeling it? that would hurt like hell!" he kept gesturing down at your ankle, at the protrusion of bone and reddening, swelling skin.

"i dunno, i just can't feel it," you mumbled. he pursed his lips, simultaneously in disbelief at what you were saying and knowing that you were too shit at lying to pull this kind of thing off. all of a sudden, his mind was screeching like a fork in a garbage disposal. not being able to feel pain was kind of a bad thing.

he had actually been right, to no one's surprise, when you were diagnosed with congenital analgesia. that incident had marked the day where five silently vowed to be there to protect you, because you were alone except for him. and, to a certain extent, he was alone except for you.

"god really was fucked up when he made you, wasn't he," he muttered.

you both headed downstairs and the clock, by now, was probably around twelve. klaus waited at the bottom of the staircase with the cheekiest of smirks on his face, hands clasped together and his cheek leaning against them. you let out an exhausted groan, thinking you'd missed this tonight.

"something tells me he's super weird-dad tonight."

"why are you surprised, he's klaus, and he's basically your dad."

klaus let out some weird giggle. "i mean, i prefer the thought of being the really cool uncle who teaches you how to smuggle alcohol and how to juke rehab therapists, but i don't mind being a dad." he stepped in front of you two, hands now extended, and that dopey uber-proud dad smile back. "oh, just look at you two!"

"i thought you were sober," five said flatly.

"come on, you two are perfect together! your over-the-top chaos," he gestured to you, "and your sterile literalism!" and he gestured to five. "i'm just waiting for you two to make it official, i mean, two guys don't just survive fifty years in the apocalypse together only from a platonic bond." you and five shared a wide-eyed glance. "don't worry, if my cupid abilities don't get you two together, hormones will. i can't imagine going through puberty twice, let alone the sexual tension between two guys who can't admit their love for one another―"

you put your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed, whilst five was utterly unsurprised. a similar conversation had gone down before, and he just hated reliving it. "okay! that's enough. okay, okay, uh, we're gonna go! if you contact me within the next seven days, i will call child protection services and the police." of course, the threat was empty, but hyperbole was the best way to get your point across. klaus raised his hands in surrender and stepped out of your way. he did enjoy the picture of you two, though; the two extremes on opposite sides of the social attitudes spectrum, one extroverted to the point of it being a flaw and the other antisocial to hell; the opposite sides of the fashion spectrum, one being well-put together mature vintage, and the other being power-clashing at its finest. the multicolored shoelaces were also an appreciated detail.

"i love you too, my little schneke."

"... stop calling me a snail, i'm―i'm not slow."

"maybe not physically," five said quietly to you, and in response you jabbed him in the side with a quiet 'fuck you.' on that cheerful note, you two went about your way. the front door clicked closed behind you, and in a flash of blue-tinted light, you were gone, and the house was mostly silent. klaus was soon joined by allison, quietly making her way downstairs, the only remaining light sleeper of the family.

"you really are just laying on that matchmaker thing, aren't you." she sounded drowsy and awake at the same time. klaus greeted her with a simple smile and a single nod.

"i mean, aren't they just the perfect couple?"

"they certainly were standing next to each other," allison mumbled.

seeing five frustrated was worrying. staring down at his clenched fists, blue light barely rippling out like ice spreading over a metal surface. and so when you passed him, even when he did not notice you, you touched his shoulder, finding yourself in another time. "h-hey, uh, five―" you managed, feeling nauseated as yet again he travelled to some time else.

"get off of me, [y/n], you shouldn't be here!" he looked at you with anger, more like fury, but it was a weird cocktail because it was mixed with a very weird concern. suddenly the world around you two zipped away and was replaced with one of fire, ruined buildings, complete and utter desolation of what was once a world, once compiled with many lives and now every single one was snuffed out because a different roaring fire took everything with it. both of you stood in shock for a few seconds but your cool nature was the first to crack.

"five?! five, where are we?" your voice cracked and your chest tightened, whipping your head around because you thought if you turned fast enough you would be back home.

"like hell if i know, [y/n]! why didn't you let go of me?!"

"i wouldn't have been home anyway, five! i would be just as stranded, i―we―someone needs to be alive, right? someone?" both of you seemed to have the same idea click into your minds, stumbling into weak runs to find the umbrella academy. the building had once stood grand and tall and foreboding and now it was down to the foundations. your friends, his siblings, were gone. he fell to his knees and you turned around, horrified at the world but at least free from the stinging pain of heat and dust whipping into your skin. you felt as cold as ice in a world of fire and heat because, buried amongst the broken homes, were the only family you both had. just older, and... dead. in very painful, excruciating ways.

for all those years, you thought it had been you that stranded you in the apocalypse together; you had distracted him, you had ruined it all, and you never forgave yourself. you hid it well. but five never came out with the same thought process because he didn't believe it in the slightest. he'd already been struggling to transport himself to the time he wanted. maybe you'd exasperated things just a little, but it wasn't entirely your fault. never.

you both allowed yourselves time for the mental breakdown you so dearly deserved, but the time was coming to man up and start trying to find ways to survive. joined at the hip didn't really cover how close you were over those decades, how you couldn't sleep unless you were besides each other, how you protected five because you wouldn't feel the pain and how he always patched you up while cursing you out and still kissing the wound better because it always properly calmed you down, at least more than any words could. you took the brunt of the pain, weaponizing your congenital analgesia and using it as a defensive plan. it worked. even when the handler came around, especially when the handler came around, no defense quite matched yours.

"i should've left you back near the academy building," five muttered, wrapping makeshift bandages around your... well, your practically crushed arm. his voice was gruff now, and not just from the unpleasant living situation, but you were both nearing your thirtieth birthdays. you'd both filled out. you kept gazing at him whenever he patched you up, and even though his words were sour, his touch was sweet.

"what're you looking at, dipshit."

"nothing much."

"fuck you."

"you first."

five grinned a bit. some things never changed.

"wow. this place really didn't age well." the old liberty tree spanned out in front of you with basically no windows left intact, and beyond them a black void without any electricity in the circuits. the outdoor walls were crawling with ivy, the grounds fuzzy from overgrown plants on unkempt laws, and the concrete of the structure looked about ready to crumble. you'd come here a few times in your pre-apocalyptic childhood. it had been coming down for a long time after a few bigger malls came into the picture, carrying more stores, more variety, more fast food restaurants in the food court. now its charms drew only you in as 'how sick would it be to die crushed under the ceiling of an abandoned mall?'

"it's super cool, right?" you giggled, giddy as all hell. your attitude toward liminal spaces had stayed remarkably the same over the years. always, when passing by some tired old house, you nagged five to just take a peek.

"i don't think so, no."

"well, you're friends with me, so i don't think you really have good taste, so i'm gonna ignore that comment and think you said yes." try as he might, and he desperately did, five couldn't bring himself to hate that glint in your eyes when you looked at him. pure, raw curiosity with an undertone of excitement and glee that you were exploring some boring, abandoned place with him of all people. you set down your board and took your place standing on top of it and before five could scold you for skating on very uneven ground, you took off, ducking and pulling a small ollie to get through the shattered pane of the glass main door. five sighed through his nose and followed you in, eventually greeted by the sound of your bluetooth speaker blasting something he couldn't make out by its echo.

"how could you possibly find this fun?" he almost had to shout to be heard. you were approaching again after going around the empty lobby for a few turns, just going faster and faster, losing more caution every time.

"because it's mindless and mostly not illegal!" you responded brightly. suddenly you got the fantastic idea to jump off your board and let it go flying and you followed the instinct, landing wrong on your foot and immediately heading straight for the ground. you would've landed hard, getting at least a deep bruise, if five hadn't caught you by your waist before you could break yet another bone, scoffing at your terrible decisions.

"there are millions of words in the english but none of them could ever describe just how incredible it is that you aren't dead yet," he said curtly, helping you stand back up. you were giggling.

the music was still playing and so you wrapped your arms around his neck, starting to sway and hum along to the eerily-echoing tune. he looked at you with confused horror, eyes narrowed slightly, not moving with you.

"don't give me that, shortstack!"

"i'm taller than you."

"i'm going to ignore that!" you chirped. "we're alive and out of hell, and we have been for, like, weeks now, it wouldn't kill you to dance a little bit!" your hair, bouncy from its messiness, danced almost more than you did as you moved it back and forth, singing whole-heartedly along to saint motel, keeping it a bit dialed back so that five wouldn't have his ears fully blown out by the volume. "who do you think'll see your shitty dance moves other than me? and we both know that i would be a total hypocrite if i insulted you for them."

"i don't dance."

"yeah, and i don't care. your hip won't give out if you use it for fun, fivey."

"don't... don't say that, actually." the cracks were staring to show, just as they always did with his clay pot attitude. you sputtered at the accidental innuendo.

"aw, c'mon, please? just this once?" it was no wonder that klaus was dead-set on his precious, unofficially-adopted son being in love with five, and also no wonder that diego was dead-set on keeping that same unofficially-adopted son as far away from five as possible. your puppy dog eyes were totally nauseating and deeply troubling and so he gave in, solely for the sake of his own sanity. he shut his eyes for a second, mumbling something along the lines of 'i should've killed you decades ago.' but he hugged your waist a little more purposefully and begrudgingly swayed a bit to the tune. the look of utter happiness on your face was, admittedly, kind of worth the wake-up call and following exhaustion.

"i cannot believe that you guilt-tripped me into dancing."

the happy music saw you getting a bit more creative, making up the moves as you went, whatever felt right. five let go of a little control to do the same, and found himself mildly enjoying it. would he do it again? not on his own accord. would you probably make him do it again? without a doubt. it was, however, nice to watch you enjoy yourself. he kind of wanted to dip you, but he didn't.

"you're a natural, though." clasping his hands and intertwining your fingers, you leaned back, and he found himself doing the same, both of you held upright by your grasps on the others' hands, and you started to move in a circle. for the sake of both your safety, five went about it too. walking turned into sideways jogging and you started giggling. the world around you both blurred. for five, it was just you now, just you, like it had always been. it had been a while since you'd held hands for so long but eventually it ended, much to five's dismay, and you went stumbling backward a few steps, falling hard on your ass whilst he quickly remained his balance. you were breathless for a moment after falling so suddenly, but eventually you just started laughing. five wiped his hands on his shirt, peering at you strangely.

"you didn't hear anything crack or whatever? nothing feels weird?" he spoke with no emotion in his voice and yet the words and underlying tone were careful and concerned. nobody else could hear it, but after so long, you could read his every move.

"no, nothing." you shook your head a bit, finding yourself dizzy. "nice to see you're still concerned."

he offered his hand out to you and you took it, and in a strong move, he pulled you up. "i wouldn't call it concern."

"well, then, what would you call it?"

good question.

you were sniffling and crying while trying not to sound it at all. of course, it wasn't from the pain, but from the total stress. sometimes it all just collapsed on you again and you were a hyperventilating, shaking kid again, too scared to turn off the light because the shadows freaked you out. five sat down beside you, leaning against the least-crumbling wall of the small shack you'd both been calling home.

"you're not really a crier," he began. "did something happen?"

"i-i almost got crushed and i saw my life fucking―flash before my eyes and i hated all of it. every single second. i wish i'd killed my parents, i wish i'd killed that landlord, i wish i'd killed my uncle―"

"wish all you want but that's not gonna happen, [y/n]." his voice softened. five was essentially the same as he had been when he was thirteen, just sprouted into someone who would've been one hell of a college freshman. "i wish i killed a lot of people too, but we're here, and we're here together, and―for what it's worth―i'm glad that you're alive." he settled a bit closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you, still sniveling, against him. "hating your childhood is pretty common where i'm from," he joked, successfully getting a wheezy chuckle from you, "and it's still possible to lead a decently okay life. i'm trapped in a terrible apocalypse, and it's not just external, but... it's a little better because i have someone else who's more insane to remind me that i'm right."

you chuckled yet again, snuggling against him. his warmth was better than the world's. "i think i only moved because i heard you call."

"seriously?"

"i-i mean, yeah." it was kind of hard to forget the feeling of stumbling away from a ton of hard reinforced concrete that would've left you as a reddish smear on an orange world. five's curt and somewhat annoyed call was the only thing that grounded you, and you both knew just how quick that faded.

"you really would be dead without me." his voice was quiet and deeply peeved but he didn't shy away from you, his hand remaining idly just against your hair.

"no shit, dumbass―trust me, i am well aware." you snorted to yourself and five sprouted a small amused smile on his own. eventually your smile dimmed a bit, and were reminded of the world in which you lived in, and the world from which you had come from. "why did you stick around?" your disheartened soul was reflected in those words, lined with a pure confusion. five furrowed his brow. apparently it was completely out of the realm of possibility to you for him to just care.

"... there was a lot of―"

"answer the question. please. j-just this once." five quieted a bit when he heard that. usually he was quite skilled at deflecting questions but you melted his resolve so easily. you asking a genuine question in a hauntingly low voice left five silent with no idea how to respond, even after all these years of dealing with your rollercoaster mannerisms.

"wrong place at the wrong time, i suppose." right place at the right time was better to describe it, maybe. "after you broke your ankle when we were ten, i guess i took it upon myself to make sure you didn't do any dumb shit that would end up in a gnarly death. whether you can feel it or not." so he'd appointed himself to be your protector?

"why? it wouldn't do you any good. well... it hasn't done you any good."

"do you really think i only do things if they'll give me an advantage?" five paused, not looking down to see the squinted eyes you stared at him with. "don't answer that question, actually. don't answer. it hasn't done me any good but i don't regret anything i did. not terribly, anyway."

your grin would make the cheshire cat blush.

five immediately regretted saying that. "don't let that go to your head, [y/n]."

"already there, bud."

his brow furrowed again, the corners of his lips twitching down in another frown. "alright. maybe it's partially concern. but fracturing your pelvis would be a very stupid way to die, and not worth laughing at, so i didn't want to miss out on a show." maybe there was some form of truth in that desire for a fun death, but you had that desire too, so small potatoes. it was silence between you two for a few seconds as you patted concrete dust off of your clothes and the backs of your thighs. "let me help," he said, and it was a demand and not an ill-cadenced suggestion. he stepped behind you and swiped away the strips you couldn't reach with a heavy hand. while he did so he carefully looked you over, even going to far as lifting your arms to check for any injuries. you were quite used to it by now.

"thanks," you mumbled. "still waiting for that broken leg."

"well, your plan wouldn't work anyway, because i can see your legs."

"yeah... i like my legs. i don't want one to go janky from a broken bone."

"it would be unfortunate."

"mmhm, so you agree."

five narrowed his eyes slightly, not getting what you meant for a second or two, before scoffing. "i don't think that your legs are nice."

"really?" you turned to look at him, and the teasing grin on your face was reassuring in how amused it was. you were just playing with him, but that was always the way you got him to inadvertently expel whatever he was thinking. you tilted your head, crossing your arms.

"don't give me that, [y/n], or i'll blink away and leave you here."

"there's ceiling access."

he pursed his lips. "alright, then leaving you alone here is completely out of the question, but i will find some way to make this miserable for you."

"what, why? why d'you wanna misery me?"

"you're dreadfully annoying, for one. i hate how you're always smiling, it gives you really bad wrinkles. you have the heart of a child because you're so immature and i don't know why the universe thought it would be funny to shove us two together, because god knows it would never happen normally, but here we are, much to my chagrin." five paused. you were accustomed to his rants by now. "your weird uncle-dad keeps trying to rush something which shouldn't be rushed, and i don't even know what level of weird that is but i hate being a part of it."

"rush something which shouldn't be rushed―what does that mean?" it was like you had selective hearing for the smallest freudian slips known to man. "what, do you need sixty more years to admit you've had some sort of big emotion or something?" it was mostly a jab, something meant to be funny, which was met with a stolid seriousness. you let out a near-silent 'oh' as the moment continued.

"yeah. turns out the crazy alcoholic was onto something, for the first time in his life." you snorted at the quip, nodding in agreement. both of you knew, dearly knew, that words wouldn't be the vessel of the confession, but both of you knew, dearly knew, that it was coming pretty fast. you'd just never think it would come this fast. klaus was really good at sniffing out a love arc, apparently. five felt like steel when he took your hands back into his, not because his biting sharp edges hurt you, no, and they never would, but he'd never done something in a manner such as this. with a few unspoken words the entire atmosphere of your relationship had been turned upside down and that was the scary part; he had no clue where to go from here.

"the worst part will be telling klaus he was right," you joked, swinging your arms in and out on socially-awkward instinct.

"you're telling me. he's gonna tout it around for the rest of time."

"we'll never live it down."

"i doubt you'll need to worry about that, i'll be surprised if you make it to your 16th birthday."

"you give me three years? seriously? you really think that my 58-year-old-13-year-old self can only survive three more years?"

"absolutely correct." you found yourself laughing and he found himself grinning, just slightly. the sound was pleasant, admittedly. he was more open with that now. well, barely, but it still counted. the silence that did follow this time around was almost pleasant. you were too nervous to maintain eye contact very long, so you glanced away from him and your gaze lingered on the random spot which it landed. plants had somehow found their way into the internal cracks of the floor, green shards glinting out in the pale light from the grimy sunroof.

"i never thought i'd see the day where you couldn't look me in the eyes. it's weird and i don't like it. look at me." your cheeks felt warm but you did as you were told. he smiled a little bit, and it didn't even hint at a snarky grin or smug smirk. you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his.

"i'm totally not telling klaus about this."

"neither am i, are you kidding?"

"never in my life," you giggled to yourself, graduating from holding his hands to wrapping your arms back about his neck, where it felt like they belonged. suddenly it was like he was new to embraces because his arms felt stiff when he hugged back, but he hugged back, tight. never before had you encountered something so gentle and so suffocating at the same time; gentle because he might break you, suffocating because he might lose you. neither of those would happen on his watch, of course. somehow, even with your wild self, your flaws and lack of capability to abide by laws and rules, you'd managed to charm the most level-headed, logic-addicted, cynical douchebag the world had ever seen. maybe there was some truth behind that old 'opposites attract' thing.

"do you wanna stick around this dingy place for a while longer like the psychopath you are or get food before you go to sleep so you don"t whine about being hungry?"

"am i really that predi—"

"yes."

"wow, you muttered, furrowing your brow. "i really am predictable."

"yes."

with just the will to prove him wrong you stood straighter and gave him a quick, albeit strong, kiss, and then you were right back on your feet. you caught him off-guard, that's for sure, because he looked like an android in the middle of uploading information; eyes slightly wide, brows slightly raised, pure subtlety. "how about that?"

it still took him a few seconds to respond after that, trying to regain his smug and blunt composure while also trying not to dampen the mood in any way. "you're terrible at convincing. give it another shot."

[akatsuki-shin]

I always wonder how Yaga-sensei and Geto's first interaction would be when they meet each other again in that airport afterlife after Yaga died. :')

At the end of the day, no matter how strong and mature he carried himself, Geto was still a 17-18 years old student a.k.a. a teenager when he got hit full in the face with the whole Riko's assassination case. It was probably his first ever, yet extremely hard-hitting trauma.

He literally:

Saw his best friend got stabbed through the chest by an unexpected assassin and had to leave him for the sake of their mission (and later got told he was killed)

Saw the person he was supposed to protect, who had also become a dear friend to him, got shot right before his eyes just as he thought they finally made it, just as he decided they would stake everything in order to grant her wish to live normally as a normal human girl and not a Star Plasma vessel

Saw so many non-sorcerers clapping happily at the corpse of an innocent middle schooler due to their personal, cultist obsession, when he has been living his entire life by the principles that sorcerers should protect non-sorcerers

Continued to exorcise curse after curse by himself, swallowing that horrifying taste of absorbing curses times and again, in order to keep protecting the non sorcerers while already seeing their ugly side in the worst form possible, all the while falling deeper and deeper into the darkness while being left out by his best friend that he thought was once his equal

I think Geto's calmness and maturity is a double-edged sword for himself. Had he been a bit more childlike, maybe his stress and confusion would've shown more on his face and behavior, allowing others to notice and talk to him about it. Had he possessed a more candid or emotional personality, maybe the stress would've made him more impulsive, which will lead to others trying to rein him in and eventually look for the sources of his impulsiveness.

But no, because he is calm and mature, he kept everything bottled up to himself and he kept it hidden so perfectly. Nobody noticed his stress, nobody noticed his confusion, his dilemma, his depression. Nobody realized he was going through great turmoil for so many days and weeks, unable to find a solution. He thought about it by himself, he dwelled in his confusion by himself. Nobody realized he needed help until he was broken beyond repair and exploded — everything at the mere age of 17-18 years old.

And that became one of Yaga's biggest regrets in his life.

After all, he was Geto's teacher. He was one of the very few adults in Geto's life that Geto looked up to and could rely on (or perhaps the only one even).

Despite his scary and stern-looking appearance, we saw him sharing a close relationship with his students, that they have mutual trust toward each other, and that he cared about his students even though he was not someone who would put his honest feelings into words.

(I mean, just look at this scene and try to tell me Yaga didn't love or care for these five dummies)

And yet despite being the only adult figure they could depend on, despite being their mentor and father-figure in that school, he let two of his students went through the worst experience in life:

Haibara getting killed for the most ridiculous reason that is the wrong mission brief

Geto succumbing to his trauma and depression, and ended up turning into a curse user

Granted, it wasn't Yaga's faults but more because of the flaws of the people governing the Jujutsu society from high above. But I'm 100% sure he felt regretful and responsible for what happened to Haibara and Geto.

He must be one of the first people who was informed about Geto massacring those villagers and I couldn't imagine how it felt for him, to hear his best-behaving student turning into a villain overnight. But he couldn't show it on his face because he needed to tell Gojo about it, and he couldn't possibly show any sign of weakness while Gojo was freaking out in front of him, knowing full well the relationship between those two.

"I wish I had paid more attention. I wished I had been more attentive. I wished I hadn't left them alone."

I think those words were constantly on Yaga's mind up until the moment of his death. In the first place, he didn't even get angry at Gojo for letting Geto go in Shinjuku, didn't tell him to look for him again or go by himself despite Geto's sentence already been announced, and expressed his understanding instead. And I think his "This time we'll completely exorcise the curse known as Geto Suguru!" in JJK 0 is more of the only way he could think of to free his former student from the cursed fate that he believed was caused, among others, by his negligence as his teacher — than a desire to execute a wanted criminal.

I don't think I need to write down anymore proofs of how Yaga was actually someone who thinks deeply about his students and cares about them more than he shows, because otherwise, that conversation between him and Principal Gakuganji in those screenshots above wouldn't even exist, and they wouldn't be showing Geto's face there (in both the anime and manga) while he was speaking about regrets.

So back to what I was saying in the beginning, I wonder how his reunion with Geto (and Haibara) would've gone in that airport afterworld.

Would Yaga apologize to them first before Geto could apologize for the troubles he caused and before Haibara could express his dismay over Yaga's death?

Or knowing him, he might not put it into words. Perhaps he'd just pat them both on the head before they could say anything and ruffled their hair with his big hands like they were kids.

And this was more than enough to convey his feelings to them, more than any of his words could.

[skeletonpunching]

Buddy Daddies extra materials: Kurusu Kazuki's Instagram archive (posts + stories)

I'm sure by now we're all aware of our good friend Kurusu Kazuki's Instagram account, where he posts endless food pics and chronicles the joys and struggles of parenting. I haven't been archiving/translating them so far, because Instagram makes posts easy enough to browse and auto-translate, but now that he's branched out into Instagram stories, I figured it would be best to have a convenient record.

As with the other extra materials (the diary entries and sticky notes), I'll be keeping all the Instagram content in a big central index post, which will be updated regularly (under the cut).

EDIT: There is now a part 2 for this post, which contains everything from ep 7 onwards. Please check that post for future updates.

This post contains the content associated with eps 1 to 6. (I split it out because this was getting so long and unwieldy that Tumblr glitched whenever I tried to edit it.)

@fantastic_sweeper0516 

Kazuki-papa here Papa to one child (in daycare) | Working hard to raise a child together with my partner. 👧 miri (4yrs) November 8

[Dates are mostly in my timezone, not Kazuki’s.]

January 1

It’s cooooold~~~ #happynewyear2023

January 3

There’s really no one around during New Year’s, huh

January 5

All set.

Heheheh. This is gonna be absolutely heavenly

January 6

Heading off to work~

January 7

Looks totally delish #mentaiko

#cooking

Done!

January 11

Another chilly day...

January 13

Can I do battle with these...?!

January 15

I’m making the world’s tastiest Hamburg steak~~ #japaneseblackbeef

January 16

Oh yeah, from yesterday. I cooked the greatest Hamburg steak...

January 18

Morning!

January 19

So tired...

January 20

Haven’t had this in ages, but it was good.

January 22

Apparently this is tastier.

January 23

If you’ve gotta banana, you’ll get by.

[writing: “Miri’s banana”]

January 24

They like it, and that’s the important thing...

January 29

WOW. Already so cheap, and there’s still a discount... #isthisheaven

January 31

Why are needle eyes so small~~~

February 1

What should I write in the daycare notebook...?

February 5

The low-malt beer life starts now.

February 7

Which do you prefer as a daycare outfit (for a girl): skirts or pants??

[results: 47% skirts, 53% pants]

February 10

The results from the other day. It was close... After surveying your opinions, I'll be buying more pants!

February 11

Mission complete.

When should I start preparing for my daughter to have a boyfriend or something?

For reference... 1. I think you'd better be ready by the time your daughter is in middle or high school...... 2. Kids these days start from elementary school, so... 3. Miri-chan is so cute, you should steel yourself now‼️‼️‼️ 4. Kids grow up quick these days, I figure you'd better be ready from age 4! 5. Probably when she's in upper elementary... 🤔💭 6. Miri-chan is a cutie, so... Looks like she might have a BF starting from the middle of elementary school 😅

Is that so.....?? 1. I hear it starts happening here and there in middle school 🐾 2. Miri-chan is totes adorbs so you gotta get used to it now🥺 she's probably super popular already... 3. Now. You should have started by now. 4. Lots of kids these days are mature for their age, so from daycare onwards... 🤔 5. Miri-chan could land a boyfriend anytime, so you'd better brace yourself now... 6. Age 9

For real??? 1. Right now! 2. Right now 3. It starts popping up once they get to upper elementary. Hang in there, Kazuki-papa! 4. I remember getting really into romance once I was in middle school. But in this day and age, even elementary schoolers would be totally into it... 5. They start dating in elementary school these days, don't they? And I guess the thinking about marriage starts in high school. 6. Around age 12? Sometime in middle school

February 12

After I made the bento, Rei and I ate the leftovers.

February 15

The fried chicken I put in the bento the other day. It got such rave reviews I made it again

Go to Part 2 (which contains everything else)

[xxbottlecapx]

I liked your post about Steve having focal seizures and Eddie figured it out because he happened to be familiar with them because of past experiences, but tbh Robin seems like she could also be someone who could pin that down. We've seen her talk about medical stuff before, specifically with the rabies rant, but I'd like to think she often looks at conditions and she finds them morbidly interesting. Can I get a version where Robin is the first to notice? I'm thinking Billy caused them, but they happen seldom until the Russians make them worse, so she notices something but doesn't piece together that he's not just being stupid until after the Russians, but you can decide how you want to do it if you even decide to

You are absolutely right. I’m not entirely proud of how this came out but this is what I got, I hope it’s okay 💜💜

1985 scoops ahoy, before the fire. 

Robin didn’t know much about Steve Harrington. 

Well, that was a lie. She was a people watcher, after all. Robin knew a lot about Steve Harrington. She knew he had been the self proclaimed (Tommy-proclaimed) King of Hawkins High. That is, until Billy Hargrove smashed his face in and Steve started rolling around with a band of middle schoolers. His downward spiral had started with Nancy Wheeler and ended with Billy Hargrove (and Jonathan was, she had been told, somewhere in the mix.) 

Steve was bad at school but good with people, bad at reading but good at speaking, bad at instruments but good with sports. Good at making friends but bad at keeping them. 

He had graduated alone. No one was there with him when he left Hawkins high that final time. As far as Robin was aware, no one seemed to care when he left at all. Robin only noticed because she was a people watcher. She liked to know things. She liked to know things about people in any way she could. At first it had just been her wanting to mimic whatever it was that King Steve did that made Tammy Thompson like him, but it quickly became a fascination. She couldn’t even tell you why. But the longer she watched him, the more intrigued she got. Especially after Billy Hargrove. 

Either way, no matter what she did or did not know about Steve Harrington; The Steve Harrington she knew of from highschool was definitely not the Steve Harrington that applied to Scoops Ahoy. 

“Hi, uh, I’m- Steve,” The King Steve said. He was wearing the proper Scoops Ahoy Gear, but his hat was one backwards. 

Robin hadn't been told she was getting a new coworker. Yesterday, Daksha seemed absolutely fine. But today she was gone. And in her place was the former King Steve, in all his lack of glory. 

“What about Daksha?” Robin said instead of greeting him in kind. He hadn’t been a nice guy. Never picked on her specifically, but Tommy sure did. 

Steve doesn’t seem miffed by her deferral. 

“Who?” 

Robin rolls her eyes, grabs his hat to put it on him correctly, and hands him Daksha’s scooper. It was bright pink, bedazzled. She expected some sort of denial but Steve only holds the scooper so stiffly she thinks he might break the handle. 

“I’m Steve.” He blinked rapidly. 

Robin crossed her arms, leaning against one of the tubs of icecream that she liked to steal from when her manager, Kanan, wasn’t looking. She wondered if he would tell on her. 

“Yeah, I know” 

“Sorry, sorry, who-“ he squinted at her, then shook his head and pulled in his shorts. They were definitely too short for him. “Who are you?” 

Robin thinks about the name tag on her shirt in bright teal. “Moira.” 

“Nice. Uh. What do I do?” Steve takes it in stride, wandering around the room without any deemed purpose. He swallows hard once, twice, and follows Robin as she opens up shop. She makes him sweep the floor three times and he doesn’t complain once. 

Eventually, she has to turn the closed sign around. “Use that Harrington charm to get more tips.” She tells him when he just blinks at her some more. “I’ll handle scooping for now.” 

Robin is a people watcher. She learns that a few things on her Steve Harrington list need an upgrade. 

The Steve Harrington from Scoops Ahoy was nothing like Steve Harrington from Hawkins High. For one thing, that Harrington charm? Didn’t exist anymore. 

This is how the You Rule, You Suck board is born. 

“Why’s there a scar in your head?” She asks him, about a month into working together. 

“Uh- got in a fight.” Is all she gets. She stares at his shaking hands, and doesn’t mention it again. 

She doesn’t have to, it seems, because the middle schoolers that follow Scoops Steve around like a flock of confused ducklings are very quick to sing his praises. 

“You know Billy Hargrove?” Dustin asks one day. He’s hiding in the break room with her. A dude had been hitting on her for weeks so whenever she sees him, Steve takes his order and Robin flees. She sits on the table and stares intensely on the bundle of bananas right next to her. They’ve become Steve’s favorite food. 

“Who doesn’t?” She says in answer. Robin was, after all, still in school. 

She hasn’t known Dustin long, and she doesn’t really understand how or why Steve likes him so much, but she does know that Dustin can talk for hours. 

“I heard you asking Steve about that scar on his head. Billy, he had a thing against Lucas dating his sister,” Dustin starts, and Robin sighs before hanging herself half off the table despite her clear interest. She couldn’t let Dustin find out he had gotten her attention. 

“Because Lucas is black, so Max and I and Lucas were hiding at his house- for unrelated reasons, and Steve had to fight Billy or Billy was gonna kill Lucas.” 

Robin sits up so quickly she almost throws up. 

“It wasn’t good. Billy slammed his head in the ground a lot and hit him with a plate. We thought Steve was dead but then Max drugged Billy so we got out all right.” Robin isn't even able to process that information before Dustin is walking out the backdoor that leads to the theater. “I don’t even think Steve went to the hospital after.” 

It’s that last line that makes Robin look just a little bit harder, later in that day, when Steve’s hand is trembling too much for him to write on the chalkboard. 

And that faint fascination that Robin had previously had on King Steve quickly hopped like a flea on to Scoops Steve. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There are many things that Robin knew about Scoops Ahoy Steve. 

She knew he had a favorite scooper- one that was just a little larger than the rest, with a different type of handle. Easier to hold, he said. 

She knew he couldn’t read what was on the menu, and that when she made him write their Scoop Of The Day on the chalkboard, the words didn’t always make sense (sometimes there wouldn't even be letters, just scribbles). 

She knew he couldn’t charm a girl to save his life, and sometimes when he spoke, the words didn’t make sense. She knew that sometimes his hands couldn't grab things (usually only for a minute at a time) and he liked to stare into space until she had to wack him upside the head.  

She also knew that Scoops Steve was very likely her best friend. Robin of a few months ago would have rioted at the very thought. But he was funny, and really nice, if a little confusing sometimes. He loved his little gremlin children and let her talk about her favorite interests that no one else was interested in (like zoonotic diseases, the differences in grammar structures in certain languages, and the central nervous system) 

Like Dustin said; A little dumb, slow on the uptake, but kind. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Robin knows a lot about Steve Harrington. Things that she knows no one else knows. 

She knows that he purposefully harassed the Russian guards so they would beat him instead of her. She knows he spent his senior year fighting monsters, probably also did it before that. She knows that for all that confidence Steve exudes, he is achingly lonely. She knows that despite Steve not knowing anything about the queer community, his first instinct isn’t to belittle her, but to crack jokes to make her laugh. Even high off his ass, his immediate response was to try and make her feel better. The popular, rich, straight white guy treated her better in that moment than anyone else she had ever met. 

Most of all, she knows what it feels like to lay bleeding in an underground Russian bunker and believe, if only for a second, that Steve is dead. 

1986, Family Video, before Vecna. 

Robin grabbed a Terry’s Bitz bar from the candy section up front and tore into it. She hadn’t been able to eat at school. Every once in a while she would somehow get reminded of the Russian elevators and all that untapped trauma would leak out of her. Steve was, at this point, her emotional support human, and she really wished he hadn’t graduated, just like that guy Eddie Munson in her band class. She doubted she would ever get to talk to that one, though. 

She could hear Steve mumbling where the fuck am I? At the register before turning around and ducking under the register to grab at a fallen tape. 

“That one goes in the aisle with the pink stickers.” Robin reminds him. She had put small colorful stickers on each row of shelves because Steve had a hard time distinguishing what she wanted if she just said aisle three. 

Steve stared into space for a moment before nodding and walking that way with the tape, his left hand making a fist, relaxing, making a fist again. 

As always, Robin follows Steve around even when she isn't scheduled to work that day. It just means she gets to hang out with her best friend and laugh at him when he has to organize shelves by himself, taunting him about her Freedom. She does her biology homework behind the counter, staring at a map of the musculoskeletal system. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There are a lot of differences between Scoops Ahoy Steve and Family Video Steve. 

Scoops Ahoy Steve couldn’t write legible sometimes, maybe 2 times a week. Family Video Steve couldn't write anything legible sometimes too, but five times a week instead of 2. Robin knows because she’s counted. 

Scoops Ahoy Steve didn’t get migraines (only headaches). Family Video Steve did. Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't throw up three times a week the way Family Video Steve did. Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't see the need to join Robin’s Yoga class offers the way Family Video Steve very easily caved into it. 

Don’t get her wrong- there are good differences, too. Family Video Steve will casually joke about her stealing his dates in a way Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't. Family Video Steve shared secrets with her, was more patient, acted less like a mom and more like an annoyed brother. Family Video Steve could admit he had a massive crush on the guy that ran the Hellfire club, who he's never talked to since he only sees him when he picks Dustin up (and of course, pretends to hate him). Family Video Steve, somehow, was even more of a best friend than Scoops Ahoy Steve. 

And Robin was a people watcher. That faint fascination she had taken to King Steve was now focused full-fledged on Family Video Steve. Her best friend. Her favorite person in the world, who sometimes forgot where he was, sometimes had bouts of confusing emotions he didn’t know how to deal with, moments where he struggled getting words past his lips, and trembling hands and legs that sometimes made him drop the tapes he organized at Family Video. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

I tried to get Steve to help me with my math homework, she had heard Dustin say. but I don’t know what this says.

You could have asked me, doofus. Steve can’t write for shit. Was Erica's reply. 

Robin knows that they don’t know that Steve heard them. This is also how she knows that it must be a bad day. Steve can write, she’s seen him do it, it’s just hard on other days. And his emotions can make things worse. She knows it’s going to be a bad day not because of Steve’s writing, but because she knows he heard Dustin and Erica say it. 

Robin was a people watcher. She knows that Steve’s picked up on whatever it is that changed him. Maybe he hadn’t, before the Russians, but she did. She knew him before the illegal drugs and head trauma that changed Scoops Steve to Family Video Steve. When she looked back, and remembered King Steve, even more differences were apparent. 

Despite the party’s claim that they were all baby geniuses, none of them have picked up on it. It didn’t make sense. But then Robin tried to think harder, use her deduction skills. 

Steve had protected these kids for years. They called him their mother. Children often can’t find fault with their parents. Sure, the party was old enough to start seeing it, but trauma can affect young minds in really confusing ways. It was very possible that the upside down had hurt their little group of freshmen (and Erica) in ways they couldn’t see. OCase in point- their protector, Steve, was different now. It’s possible they were, deep down, afraid of what it would mean if there was more change added to their traumatically changing lives. Steve was a pillar to them. More of a hero of stories than man.

So she tries to give them a pass. She really does. But she sees the look on Steve’s face when Dustin says it. Steve would never admit it, but Dustin and Erica were his favorites. Robin knew that what they thought mattered more than anything. Anyone else making jabs at Steve’s intelligence washed off him like he was covered in healthy duck feathers. And Steve wasn’t an idiot the way they thought he was. Your ability to hand-write or speak didnt dicacte your intelligence. They were just teenagers who hadn’t been taught that yet. 

Dustin and Erica weren’t inherently malicious. She knew they weren’t. She would just have to find a way to show the party that Steve wasn’t an idiot.

Of course, only three days later, a cheerleader dies in a drug dealer's basement, and her whole world is torn apart. 

1986, Borders Book Store, after Vecna. 

Robin couldn’t take it anymore. On her day off, she rushes to the library, which had very narrowly escaped the Vecna-induced earthquake. It had taken 2 weeks to kill him properly, but they had done it. That didn’t mean the town was allowed to quickly forget, though. 

Luckily for Robin and Steve, so many people moved away that there were multiple job casings still open. This was good because Steve got fired 2 times and whenever Steve got fired, Robin left too. Despite his very clear pros (like being a chick magnet) other places of employment didn’t fit him. 

Anyways. Robin checks herself into the cramped biological sciences section. She takes out a list of symptoms written on ratted yellow lined paper from her back pocket, and she starts to read. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“What?" Steve replies, later, when she comes to him with an improvised list and a stolen library textbook. 

“Please, just listen.” She begged. They were on the floor, behind the counter of their current workplace. Sometimes if the streetlights were flashing, they’d get too scared to go home and just spend the night here. “It explains everything.”

“I can't- no, Robin.” He crossed his arms, then held himself in a tiny ball. His shoulders hunched in on themselves. “I know what a seizure looks like.” He whispered. 

“You know what one type of seizure looks like.” Is Robin’s rebuttal. “There are so many different kinds.” 

Steve swallowed hard once, twice, his left hand clenched and unclenched a few times. He nods, and lets her open the book. 

And öh, but of course, Sources 

Steve’s favorite food being bananas comes from this site, sometimes bananas help with epileptic seizures https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5855373/

Some of Steve’s symptoms come from here https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/seizure/symptoms-causes/syc-20365711

Some tips for what to do when someone has a seizure https://www.nationwidechildrens.org/conditions/seizure-care

One of Robin’s special interests is the central nervous system,  which houses the brain, which is typically where seizures come from/originate. https://kidshealth.org/en/teens/brain-nervous-system.html

80’s Candy references, I cant promise you these were available in Indiana so just ignore that if they weren’t https://www.eightieskids.com/greatest-chocolate-bars-1980s/5

Steve’s spasms in his hands during seizures are caused by the connection of the brain to the musculoskeletal system, https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/14526-musculoskeletal-pain 

Steve self-rehabilitates himself with Yoga, it's a recommended exercise use for seizure patients https://lonestarneurology.net/blog/physical-activity-in-epilepsy/

I don’t know how libraries work since I’ve never been to one so if there’s inaccuracies, ignore it 

And of course, If my interpretation of a focal seizure is inaccurate, I do apologize. this one was a bit more general in the 'brain damage' section, though.

[ridiasfangirlings]

I'm sure you've been asked this, but imagine post-ROK, yata starts realizing with the help of other people that his feelings for fushimi mayy be more than just platonic. And then he asks fushimi out at the worst possible time like at his job and it totally catches fushimi off guard

I can totally see Yata just blurting it out at the worst possible time, like Fushimi is swamped with work and there are a bunch of witnesses and Munakata is probably there smiling and making everything worse XD I imagine Yata spends at least some time trying to convince himself that these feelings must just be platonic, he’s just happy to have his best friend back that’s all. Some of this could really be even just Yata having been actually crushing on Fushimi since middle school and so it really doesn’t occur to him that he’s in love because his feelings never changed, he’s been unaware for years now that he was in love. The other Homra guys can totally see it though, Yata coming back to the bar after going drinking with Fushimi and talking about what a great time he had with Saruhiko. Chitose laughs and shakes his head all you’re crushing hard huh, Yata’s like wait what crush no, it’s just that Saruhiko is so cool, that’s all. Akagi adds that it definitely sounds like a crush and the whole Homra alphabet agree, like come on Yata we know you’ve been in love with him since you guys joined up as snot-nosed middle schoolers. Yata doesn’t want to believe it, all but I’m a guy and he’s a guy and anyway we’re friends, and the Homra guys are just like that shouldn’t matter and anyway it’s so obvious to everyone that you’re in love.

Yata definitely wrestles with this for a bit, like he’s got the one two punch of discovering his sexuality and realizing that he’s been in love with his best friend for ages, and probably also worrying like what if those guys were wrong and this isn’t love and I screw things up just when me and Saru were becoming friends again. But eventually he has to admit it to himself, that when Fushimi’s rare smiles make his breath catch and his heart pound, he really is in love. So now he has to figure out how to tell Fushimi, he’s never confessed to anyone before and he doesn’t really know how to do it. He’s also still a little worried about getting rejected, like Yata thinks he’d be fine with it and would be friends with Fushimi anyway but what if Fushimi gets skittish about the whole thing and doesn’t want to be Yata’s friend anymore.

Maybe what spurs Yata on is he walks into the bar one day and Kusanagi tells him there was an incident at S4, Fushimi was injured. He’s okay but refusing to go to the hospital because there’s work to do and Awashima was wondering if Yata could help with that. Yata barely hears the last part, brain immediately latching on to ‘Saruhiko was injured’ and he grabs his skateboard and heads straight for S4. Imagine him rushing into the office where Fushimi is rebuffing Hidaka’s attempts to get him to lay down, complaining that it’s just a minor head wound and he needs to finish this paperwork first. Yata yells his name across the room and Fushimi freezes, looking up all ‘Misaki?’. Of course everyone is staring at them now as Yata rushes over to him and starts fussing, like you’re bleeding idiot why aren’t you resting what if something happened to you. Fushimi clicks his tongue, not sure why Yata is even here, and then Yata gives this relieved sigh as he says he was so worried and finally he just blurts out ‘I’m in love with you.’ 

The entire room goes dead silent and imagine Fushimi’s face getting red as he’s like what are talking about, Yata says he didn’t mean to just spit it out but he wasn’t lying either. Yata suddenly realizes that they are the center of attention and also Saruhiko’s King is smiling and he’s all awkward now, grabbing Fushimi by the wrist like come on let’s go to the infirmary and we can talk while you get your head bandaged. Fushimi’s brain is still rebooting so he lets himself be dragged off and he doesn’t even complain, staring at Yata like he’s seeing something entirely new for the first time.

[wawataka]

i binged watch the entirety of mob psycho in spanish and here are things i noticed (mostly, in regards to how formal and informal pronouns are used)

Under read more so it’s not annoying

obviously, most of the kids use the informal Tú when addressing each other

Mob actually uses the formal pronoun Usted when talking to/about Reigen. Which, at first, I thought odd but made sense when I thought about it (I’m not gonna address a teacher informally, no matter how long we’ve known each other)

(It also adds a layer of ouch when you think about it. despite the years they’ve known each other, Mob only views Reigen as an authoritative figure while Reigen sees Mob more as a reliable friend)

Hilariously, Ritsu does use tú when talking to Reigen (he does NOT care)

Strangely enough, from the get go, Mob used informal pronouns when talking to Dimple, even when he was still under the impression that the LOL (or. “Jajaja” as it’s called in spanish) cult leader was human

Also from the start, Reigen and Dimple use tú when talking to each other, which is funny. I guess all spirits automatically go by tú? since they’re dead?

Reigen also uses tú when addressing Serizawa, and Serizawa uses usted, im assuming because of their boss/employee dynamic but also Reigen addresses everyone with tú

When saying Hanazawa, they don’t keep the H silent (understandable, Anazawa doesn’t sound right). However when they say Kageyama, the g sounds like it would when saying something like gente. So it sounds like Kaheyama

When describing what Ritsu thought of dimple when they first met, they said “globo feo deformado.” I laughed so hard. Literally called him ugly, deformed, and weird. I don’t remember if they used that many descriptors in the other versions

And onto the voices themselves, i actually really like them.

Reigen’s va, Manuel Campuzano is an incredible match and it’s made even more hilarious when you know he also voiced Light Yagami in Death Note’s spanish dub

I’m also incredibly fond of Mob’s va, Carlos Siller. I don’t know how they got a grown man who sounds like a middle schooler, but they did and i love it

The rest of the boys sound alright. I do like them, they just sound. a little deep. but i think that’s because i’m comparing them to Mob, and he really sounds boyish compared to the others

They also changed them often? For characters who show up briefly, this would make sense. But they switch out va’s for Sho and Serizawa and even Teru. but not for minor characters? this doesn’t matter and you barely even notice but unfortunately for me i get oddly attached to a characters va (i was devasted when Kyle could no longer voice Mob)