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angeldreamsoffanfic · 2 years ago

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part two of this original ficlet

It’s a couple days later when Robin Buckley is in Steve Harrington’s bedroom when it fully hits her. That this boy, not much older than she is- is her best friend. There’s a million universes out there, Robin is one of the ones who believes in that fully and completely. Every little change splitting off and dividing, creating and creating and creating.

Robin, however, can’t even begin to imagine the universes where she doesn’t know Steve. Doesn’t know him fully and completely and as absolutely wholeheartedly as she does. Can’t imagine that there are galaxies where she doesn’t know him as well if not better than herself sometimes.

But he’s hers here.

“Do you want to move in?” Steve’s question is soft spoken, and Robin is quick to turn to catch his eyes in her own. He’s leant up against his desk, a Rubik’s cube in between his fingers. His head is cocked slightly, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes and Robin’s meet. “Rob?”

“Yeah?” Robin allowed herself to grin, a shy and slow curve of her lips, even as she pushed her statistics homework off of her lap. Steve nodded once then twice, a sharp bob of his chin that was so firm it almost caused his chin to make contact with his chest. “You want me to move in with you, dingus?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, soft and sweet, before he tossed the Rubik’s cube toward Robin. She didn’t catch it, she never could really, but it did land in her lap- completely solved. Robin plucked it into her hands, set about messing it up again, so Steve could solve it. “I wanted to ask, since I know you’re eighteen now and-”

“And since my parents still think all of this was an earthquake?” Robin supplied knowingly, before she threw the Rubik’s cube back to Steve. He caught it from the air with his left hand and shyly nodded, before he set about solving the puzzle cube once more. Robin is quiet for a second, just before she continues on. “What about yours?”

“My parents?” Steve asked with a slight furrowed brow, his head cocked slightly to the side. Robin let out a soft hum, though nodded when she saw that Steve hadn’t heard her well. “They uh, aren’t coming back to Hawkins, Rob.”

Robin felt her heart lurch as she rubbed her palms along her jean clad thighs, brow instantly taut as she eyed Steve. He had diverted his eyes, eyes now focused on the way he moved the Rubik’s cube. She had never been good at those, really, and had doubted Steve’s ability in solving them when he first brought the thing into the back of Scoops A’hoy.

That was, of course, until she saw this.

The modes where Steve’s brain whirred by him too fast, his past of dealing with the Upside Down heavy on his shoulders. No matter the jokes the kids tended to make in Steve’s expense, he really wasn’t an idiot. Not when it came to puzzles, at the very fucking least.

Robin shook her head, wiggling further onto the carpet to be able to extend one of her legs. She hooks her ankle around Steve’s, smiling a little bit softer when he immediately eased into the touch. His shoulders stopped being tense and up by his ears, easing down to their natural resting point. Robin let’s it stay quiet for a beat, then two, before she starts to speak again.

“I love you.” Robin let herself murmur the words easily, even when Steve’s eyes are immediately glassy and soft. His brows furrow and she let her own furrow back, a mirror image to his. “Like this all-consuming aching love that I’ve never felt for anyone. Not like this.”

“Robbie-”

“No, let me get this out there.” Robin shook her head quickly as she scrambled forward, coming to kneel at Steve’s side. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, thumbs curled against his cheekbones as she tilted his chin up so his eyes would be met with her own. She knew what she must look like, like she’s on a warpath. (And in her mind, she is.) “I don’t think I have ever loved someone as much as I love you, dingus.”

“You are it for me, Steven Richard Harrington. You are my soulmate, and you-” Robin let herself sniffle, let Steve cradle her own cheeks in his palms. He mimicked the way she held him, hands gentle and thumbs cradling softly against her cheekbones. His thumbs brush even softer under her eyes, sweeping away tears Robin knew had managed to come out. “You deserve someone to tell you that every fucking day, and if it has to be me saying it to you for it to sink in… then so be it.”

“I love you, Robbie.” Steve’s own voice is wet and almost muffled sounding, brows still taut as his eyes shimmer with his own unshed tears. Robin makes sure to be gentle as she pressed her fingers harder into Steve’s face, squeezing his cheeks as she meets his eyes intently.

A beat passed. Then another. Robin let Steve stare unabashedly into her eyes, even when his own softened at whatever he had found inside of them.

“What?” Robin is almost scared to ask the question, even as Steve’s smile twitched at the very corner. Steve hummed softly, thumbs doing a final swoop up Robin’s cheeks, before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Dingus?”

“You like Nancy.”

The statement is enough for Robin’s hands to fall off of Steve’s face, and she could feel the way her jaw slackened slightly. Steve is smug, almost, in the way he leaned further against the base of his desk as Robin scrambled backwards. He’s even quicker though, catching her ankle with his own- and causing her to land with a thud onto her butt that’s only minimally softened by his carpet.

“How did you-”

“You’ll find, that I’m one of the ones that knows what being in love with her is like.” Steve’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge on the back of it that caused Robin to swallow. Robin isn’t sure what fluttered hard in her stomach and chest, an ache of a feeling that caused her mouth to go dry and her brows to furrow. Steve licked at the corners of his mouth for a second, fingers flying faster as he turned and twisted at the Rubik’s cube. “And I just… let me say this, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Robin heard her voice croak, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’s swimming in molasses as she watched Steve. His shoulders are up closer to his ears again, before he seemed to make the conscious decision to lower them. After a beat, the Rubik’s cube is solved, and Robin lets him toss it into her lap again.

“I don’t care that you like her at all, really.” Steve’s voice is soft and his words are spoken with a slow tilt to them, brows still furrowed as his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. Robin watched him worry at it for a bit, before he let it go and began to speak again. “I was in love with her, I know, and she broke my heart in two-”

“Dingus-” Robin tried softly, but she let herself be cut off when Steve shook his head sharply. She instead, tossed the once more scrambled puzzle cube his way- and watched as he began to solve it again.

“If she…” Steve shook his head once, then twice, before his eyes met hers. There’s something there that’s lurking in them, a steel glimmer to them that Robin hasn’t seen before. He’s never really like this with her, not pulling on his King Steve persona like a personal shield again. “If she hurts you, Rob? Whatever friendship between her and I that’s somehow been salvaged? It’s… There is… I don’t care for a lot, not really anymore.”

Steve paused for a beat, shaking his head as he sniffled. He continued, speaking quieter and focused on his hands as he let the Rubik’s cube fall to his carpet.

“But if I ever have to chose between you and her? Rob, I’m going to pick you every time. And I want to be selfish and ask if you’d pick me too.”

Robin felt the tears then, hot and almost burning against her cheeks. Steve scrambled forward almost immediately, and Robin let out a gross even to her ears sounding sniffle as she let him cradle her to his chest. Robin reached up then, fingers searching and digging, pulling Steve closer to her. They entwine easily, and Robin can’t help but immediately think of Greek mythology.

There’s a story, one her mother used to tell her in place of fairytales. Of how the Greek philosopher, Plato, believed that humans used to have four arms and legs, and had two faces. Her mother always told it best, of how Zeus had deemed humans too prideful and split them as a form of punishment. Humans destined to walk the Earth searching for their other half, for their soulmate.

When she was little she used to think it would be romantic.

She knew better now.

She knew better because here she had Steve. And she may never get the chance or even the balls to tell Nancy Wheeler how she feels.

(That there are times where Robin looks at Nancy, and envisions a life where they are incandescently happy. Times where Robin can remember the burn and ache she felt for both Tammy and for Vickie, but that even together they don’t amount to what she feels for Nancy. That there are times where all Robin can do is just fucking wish and—)

She may never have a romantic soulmate.

Maybe it’s not in the cards for her in this reality, maybe that’s only something she can have in a different universe. Strangely, a part of her is okay with that.

Because here she has Steve. Here Steve has her.

And they’re SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve.

Two halves of a whole split by a God in a fit of rage, but somehow against all the odds they have managed to find each other and conjoin again.

Robin kept her voice soft as she pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s chest, and she left her lips there as she mumbled her next words. They’re the only words that fit, even though she wished she could bare her soul and mind completely, let him read and take his fill. Let him be comforted by her love.

As complete and unconditional as it is.

“I’d chose you in every fucking lifetime, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Robin squeezed her fingers more intently against Steve’s shoulders. Steve is quick to mimic her, giving Robin a few quick pulses of his fingers, before he spoke up after a beat.

“I think I have a crush on Eddie.”

Robin can’t help but explode into laughter.

Steve followed with his own shortly after.

—

hope you enjoyed! here’s the link for this fic if following along with it on ao3 is more your jam <3 more parts to come soon!

taglist:

@wonderland-girl143-blog @bxlthazar @estrellami-1 @plutoshelm @stevesbipanic @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @plyerice27 @justforthedead89 @nuttychaosface @princess-eddie @daydreaming-mood @anaibis @marsbars97 @messrs-weasley @beckkthewreck @he-she-steveharrington @practicallybegging @trashcanniballecter @theluckyalien @chaoticvictorianspirit @fantasyfr3ak @newtstabber @mightbeasleep @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @songbird-garden @thisisallicouldthinkof @emma-elsa-0000 @leather-and-freckles @shinekocreator @alex-whitley-187 @gay-little-bitch @pluto-pepsi @silentiumdelirium @kitchen-spoon @bossyknow-it-all

#angeldreamsoffanfic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #platonic stobin #steve harrington and robin buckley are bffs #robin would die for steve #and steve for robin #steve harrington has bad parents #also my personal headcanon is that the Rubik’s cube from fv is steve’s can’t you tell?#steve harrington is smart #also yes sorry i do think this is how steve would act when robin told him she likes nancy #bc nancy already broke steve’s heart once #and steve forgives nancy but loves robin more #platonic stobin month #background ronance #background steddie #sorry

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princessbrunette · 10 months ago

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I think Rafe would genuinely twitch and get jittery if he saw the pretty Kook Princess standing and sipping her juice in that cute, pink swimming suit, like literally his hands would start shaking just to touch her or grab onto those soft hips or tits but then JJ swoops in and would literally 'playfully' almost jump her and fondle her all over, 'get a good squeezin' on those goods princess, have to thank mother nature in sum way' and you just whine and giggle at JJ bc he's too rough for his 'playfullness' :((

And Rafe is just standing there a few meters away all furious and jittery bc you're letting sone Pogue squeeze all over you and JJ's smug smirk doesn't lessen Rafe's desire to crack his skull😭

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

maybe this time rafe cracks, storming over there, tapping jj on the shoulder and sucker punching him when he turns around. you gasp, as does everyone else present and as rafe tries to climb on top of jj’s recovering body, topper yanks him off.

“he—he was harassing her! filthy pogue!” he yells, something along the lines of jj’s touch being totally unwanted as he gets dragged away, his chest burning in anger at the way you go and kneel by jj, cupping his face, asking if he’s okay.

rafes mad, because he knows he’s probably ruined his chances, and now he’s on a warpath to get jj. every move rafe made was somehow the wrong one, and he couldn’t have the blonde getting in his way anymore. that evening he’s pacing his room, still shaking off his bruised fist when surprisingly there’s a knock at his door.

you, innocent sweet thing who genuinely believed it was a misunderstanding. rafe lets you in, thinking you came to lecture him or tell him to leave you alone from now on but you come and sit by his side, concern washing across your face.

“i just wanted to say… thank you for trying to protect me because you thought i was being harassed. me and jj are friends, yeah he’s a little rough and tumble sometimes but i promise he’s not that kinda guy.” you place a hand on his back, your explanation not doing much to soothe his anger towards maybank but atleast it implied a second chance with you.

“yeah… just don’t trust that guy y’know? gettin’ his hands all over you like that. any—anyone would have made that mistake, you know that right?” he turns his body to you, more convincing himself than you.

“well…” you sigh, not sure where to go from here. “just wanted to see if you were okay and set things straight.” you stand, preparing yourself to leave. as you do so, he stands too, taking your hand causing you to look at him. he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss there before clutching your hand in both of his to his chest.

“…y’know i’d take care of you, right? would always choose to protect you.”

“i know.” you whisper softly and he lets you go, standing back.

“okay.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

#anon #jj x reader x rafe

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cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut · 6 months ago

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“That Tarlos Still” Fic #1

Hello it’s 1am and I’m obsessed with this picture and all the things it might mean. While we all go slowly insane about it, here’s a little something I pulled together. There will be more.

“I’ll fix this,” says Carlos. His voice is low, resolute. TK’s stomach threatens to drop. Gratitude and dread vie for space in his body, each of them surging upwards from under his ribs. It alters his posture, sends his spine poker straight. He peers at his husband with his lips parted. Carlos leans back on the couch, cants his hips upwards for access to his pocket, and slips his hand inside. All the while, his eyes don’t leave TK. Moments later, he draws out his phone.

“Carlos,” TK protests, his voice barely a whisper. He tilts his head to one side, suddenly tired of even holding himself upright. It’s been a terrible day. All he wants is to fall into bed and be pulled tight against his husband’s strong chest. But Carlos’s lips are pressed into a bloodless line, and his strong chest heaves slowly like he’s schooling his breath. He’s pissed, and he’s determined, and TK’s account of his difficult day has set his husband on some kind of warpath. His expression softens at TK’s gentle plea, but his conviction does not waver. He squeezes TK’s knee.

“I’ll fix it,” he implores, and rises to his feet. TK is immediately bereft without him. He opens his mouth to protest further, but the words are lost, swallowed by the heavy fog infused into him by the events of the day. His body is tired and his mind is drained. Carlos crosses halfway across the living room, thumbs tapping the screen of his phone. By the time TK has any idea what to say, Carlos’s phone is already at his ear, and any further attempt to dissuade him is pointless.

Even from here TK hears the low dial tone, sees the line of tension set into his husband’s shoulders. Carlos’s wedding ring gleams beneath the lights of the home they’ve made together, and the last dregs of protest turn to nothing on a sigh. TK lets his shoulders slump, lets his posture falter entirely. He leans forwards, sets his elbows on his thighs, and clasps his hands together for the comfort of it.

He forces his gaze away from his husband, and lets his head tip forward.

His heart pounds terribly where he waits on the couch, his gaze fixed unblinking on the floor. He doesn’t know if Carlos can fix this, but amid his anxiety his heart swells regardless. He doesn’t know if Carlos can fix this, but it means something that he’s going to try.

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #tarlos fic #that Tarlos still fic

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itsabouttimex2 · 11 months ago

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Hi hope it’s not to late to request yandere demon bull family , with reader having a crush on MK please 🙏

Bullfam reacts to dating MK

(Alternate Scenario)

Red Son’s reaction closely mirrors MK’s in the Monkiefam scenario, just far more severe and less quick to open up to the idea of his little sibling dating.

As the seasons go on, he’s more and more likely to grudgingly accept your relationship with the filthy, awful, empty-brained, plan-wrecking, noodle-making peasant. By season four, he’ll have a severely vitriolic view of your relationship, but will very unhappily accept that MK not only makes you happy, but also keeps you safe.

In season one? He explodes into a blind rage and temporarily switches his plans from taking over the city/world to outright killing his rival.

You sigh as you step into your room, where your brother is, but has no right to be, in your personal opinion. You feel more of a mild annoyance at him going through your things than anything else, though. He does this regularly, giving his reasons as “keeping you out of trouble” and “making sure you aren’t up to anything”.

Today is the first day after years of relentless searching that he finds something.

Red Son’s hand trembles with an emotion you can’t quite place, holding an item you can’t quite see. You peek closer, shifting to look around his shoulder.

It’s your phone, with your messages open.

And he’s looking through the chats you’ve had with MK.

“Y/N! EXPLAIN YOURSELF RIGHT NOW, YOU- YOU- YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON! HOW DARE YOU?! RUNNING AROUND WITH THE DEMON BULL FAMILY’S GREATEST ENEMY?! DO WE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?! DO YOU NOT LOVE US? DO YOU LOVE HIM MORE THAN US?!”

He throws your phone to the ground, crushing it with a flaming foot. Then that fire begins to spread.

Flames gush freely from his hands, his eyes, his hair, all setting him alight in a brutal display of the power he wields. The fire he spews grows hotter and brighter until almost all of his body is consumed by an eye-searing light. You’re forced to turn your head and cover your eyes. There’s nothing you can do to stop him right now, and you certainly can’t go running to your parents, either.

Even if they did decide to step in and force him to stand down, it would mean revealing to them your relationship with the first and foremost obstacle to their plans and schemes. They might even go so far as to fan his fury, encouraging him as he sets off on a one-man warpath towards Megapolis, and with it, MK.

The best and safest option here is to bite the bullet and desperately apologize and start to beg for him to calm down. Tell him that you’re sorry for keeping secrets, for getting into a relationship without his knowledge or consent, for sneaking around with his rival. Tell him you’ll call the whole thing off and break up with MK if he just calms down and stops burning things, if he promises not to hurt anybody. If you cry and tremble as you make promise after promise, there’s a better chance it’ll work.

And though your pleading does slowly get through to Red Son, his anger is only ever so slightly mitigated. Shaking so fiercely that he threatens to combust once more, he grips your shoulder with just enough strength to leave a bruise and throws you into your closet, locking it behind you before stomping off to speak with his parents about what you’ve been doing.

You’re left alone, sniffling and shaking in the dark, sitting with your legs against your chest in the enclosed space.

Things are bad, already. And then you hear soft footsteps, and you know they’re about to get worse.

Thankfully for you, your mother comes to see you before your father does.

Princess Iron Fan is the calmest and most reasonable of the three, with iron-lined nerves and a perpetually composed demeanor. You’re lucky, really. If it had been your brother again, or; god forbid, your father… at least her coming here gives them both a chance to cool off from the news while she tends to you.

She slowly unlocks and opens the closet, looking down at your huddled form. Whether she looks at you with pity, reproach or disappointment is impossible to distinguish by face and body language alone.

Even when she kneels down in the closet to meet you face-to-face, her emotions are utterly indistinguishable. Your heart pounds frantically, terror mounting inside you. The red-robed demon shakes her head and sighs softly at your panicked expression, opening her arms to you.

“My poor, foolish child. Come to your mother.”

Princess Iron Fan might be evil, might be married to a would-be world conquerer, might be willing to throw children around in a fight… but she adores her family above all else. So she takes pity upon seeing your tears and brings you into a hug, letting you rest your teary eyes on her shoulder.

She’s still mad, of course. But she’ll preserve her image of you being a precious and innocent treasure that she simply must protect by shifting the majority of the blame to MK, deeming him a “bad influence”. You’re still getting locked up nice and tight in the fortress, of course. You’ll be put in a room with a door that’s too heavy for you to push open, trapping you inside even without taking into account that your parents seal it with locks both iron and arcane, just to keep you extra “safe” from someone who never posed any threat to you whatsoever.

“My naive little Y/N,” she coos into your ear with sickly-sweetness, tightening her arms around you. “Was my foolish child led astray by a petty, rebellious mortal? I had thought you were readier for the world, wiser to the tricks of it’s people… but I see now that I was wrong.”

Your heart clenches at her manipulative words, her loving but sharp tongue driving stakes into your quickly diminishing self-esteem. By framing a simple desire to grow up and develop a relationship as a severe personal failing on your end, she justifies locking you away. You can’t call her a bad person if she convinced you that it’s for your own good, after all.

She truly loves you, in spite of her manipulations. Iron Fan will be the one bringing you food and fresh clothing every morning, ensuring that you stay healthy and clean even through the long duration of your imprisonment grounding.

She sets you onto your feet, brushing off your clothes before cupping your cheek with one of her hands. “Come now. Your father wants to speak to you.”

All you can do from there is drag your feet along after her, dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits you.

She brings you to the master room of the fortress, where the Demon Bull King awaits you, scorn leering from his eyes. She pushes you into the chamber, then shuts the iron door behind you with a powerful gust of wind, trapping you once more.

With leaden feet, you slowly walk forwards, head lowered to the ground so as to not make eye contact with your furious father. Once you stand before his throne, he leans forward.

With a long, clawed finger he reaches out to you. Carefully, he hooks his powerful and sharp nail under the bottom of your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Child,” he rumbles, his voice dangerously low and gravelly. “You have much to answer for. If I were you, I’d begin explaining… and quickly.”

Just as you did with your elder brother, and your mother soon after him, you take the most peaceful option you can, and try to placate. If it was just Red Son that was angry at you, you could run to your parents for sanctuary. If it was only Demon Bull King, you could seek out your mother and beg her to soothe his rage. Now that all of your family is enraged or upset, you have nowhere to run, no one to turn to.

“I… I’m sorry, father. I have no excuse.”

You do, actually. That excuse being that you’ve lived hundreds of years right beside them and have proven both your strength and maturity time and time again. Still, they treat you like a child and insist on hiding you away from the world and everyone within it.

“Please give me a chance to earn your forgiveness.”

You don’t want his forgiveness. You want your family to understand that you’ve grown up, enough that you have an interest in romantic relationships. You don’t want to have to fight to get them to acknowledge your feelings and desires.

Your father stares down at you with icy eyes, huffing and snarling. You know he wouldn’t truly harm you, of course. None of your family would. The mild bruise Red Son gave you just a short while ago was the worst any of them had ever hurt you , and even that was probably unintentional.

DBK leans back on his throne, unhanding your chin. Still, his eyes never leave yours, boring right through you.

“I see,” he says, his voice heavily guarded. “I see what the problem is.” The giant demon folds his arms as he rises from his throne, towering above you.

“You’ve been given too much room to roam, it seems. I have been gone for so long that you have forgotten the Bull clan’s mission.”

He raises his fist high, then swings it against the wall to sound a brutal clang that echoes through the room and causes your ears to painfully ring as you recoil.

“We are demons! We conquer, destroy, and rule! None stand in our way! We do not lower ourselves to commingle with mortals! We rise above the rabble, and crush them under our heels when they dare to resist!”

“Do you understand, Y/N?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat is painful, but you force yourself to do so anyways. If you want to soothe the anger you’ve inspired throughout your parents and brother, then you have to take the high road and play nice for your own sake.

Not only for your own sake, but for MK’s as well. Their anger is directed between the both of you, after all. Assuaging it is the easiest way to keep him safe. With that in mind, there’s only one thing you can say.

“Yes, father.”

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Red Son #Yandere Princess Iron Fan #Yandere Demon Bull King #Bullfam #Yandere Father #Yandere Mother #Yandere Brother

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ldrfanatic · 4 months ago

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slytherin boys at ttpd songs - the anthology

part two of the first part featuring only the added songs from the anthology

I forgot tags im sorry!!

slytherin boys my bookcase

mattheo riddle as... the black dog

"old habits die screaming" + "And remember how my rain soaked body was shaking. Do you hate me?" + "For a cruel fraternity, I pledged, and I still mean it." + "Now I wanna sell my house and set fire to all my clothes. And hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons."

explanation - following the war, I think that mattheo would have the hardest time out of all of them. Not because of being voldemort's son (I think he's used to the looks he gets from that). I think he has the worst time because of all of them, he has mad survivor's guilt. how is it that all of those good people died, and him, pledged deatheater, got to live? on top of that, mattheo is still wrestling with the trauma that his father inflicted on him. So, when a ministry member comes to begrudgingly tell him that he's inherited an estate from his father (really an estate his father stole from one of his followers), mattheo is actually sickened. He really does not want that property and cannot stand to be in that house. (he does eventually accept it and then donate it to an orphanage for magical children. there's a hopeful part of him that thinks that if his father hadn't been treated so poorly by muggle orphanages when he was a kid that maybe he could've been a better person).

draco malfoy as... cassandra

"When it's burn the witch they're shrieking, when the truth comes out it's quiet" + "twisting all my smiles into snarls" + "they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware, what happens if it becomes who you are?" + "bloods thick but nothing like a payroll"

explanation - out of everyone in the series, explicit, canon, and otherwise, draco was the one that saw the best and the worst of both sides. when he was growing up, he was always taught the value behind being a pureblood. that it was blood purity that determined a person's worth. their value. but a lot of that changed when he started seeing the ugly sides of the malfoy family. by the time he realized that his father was little more than voldemort's lackey (and not even the most important one), it was too late. his father had already molded him. the bright and happy kid that he once was had started to sneer at all of his friends. he no longer felt like it was a service to the magical community to finger out mudbloods in his classes to his parents. afterall, he also quickly realized that his father cared far more for money and power than he ever really cared about purity. he was just a number on a payroll.

theodore nott as.... how did it end?

"and so a touch that was my birth right became foreign" + "it's happening again, the empathetic hunger descends" + "lost the game of chance, what are the chances?" + "leaving me bereft and reeling, my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree, d-y-i-n-g"

explanation - the sympathetic looks started when theo's mother died in fourth year, and theo decided that he absolutely hated them. He didn't want people to look at him like that, or to walk on eggshells like they were constantly in fear of saying the wrong thing. then once word got out that his father beat him, he started keeping to himself. it was easier to avoid conversation all together than to try to explain the bruises when everyone already pitied him for his mother's death. what hurt the most, was that his mother had died so unexpectedly. to a disease that killed less than 100 people a year. the odds were in her favor, and she still lost. then theo lost too. what hurt just as much, was the way that his father changed after his mother died. the way that every little thing seemed to set him on a warpath. when he was a kid, theo loved his parents, and now, it felt like when he lost his mother, his father died too. one man, two ghosts, and theo.

enzo berskhire as... the manuscript

"and the years passed like scenes of a show" + "looking backwards, might be the only way to move forward" + "and the tears fell, in synchronicity with the score, and at last, he knew what the agony had been for" + "the only thing that's left is the manuscript"

explanation - lorenzo berkshire had loved history his whole life. where his friends found the subject bore them to tears, lorenzo found it a bittersweet interest. afterall, he'd never been that good at potions, always doing something wrong, and while he could hold himself steady on a broom, he was never going to be a quidditch star. history was easy. it felt natural. to divulge in the stories of the witches and wizards before him. following the war, a lot of death eaters wanted to move past it all. they wanted to forget. but lorenzo knew that it was important. that as hard as it was and as many tears as it may cause them, that they had to understand before they could progress, and the only way to understand was to look backwards. so, he made it his personal mission in his late twenties to record. he traveled all over europe for nearly thirty years gathering stories from death eaters of all ages and backgrounds. at nearly age fifty, he published his first and only book, echoes of the damned: the untold stories of former death eaters. unfortunately, he fell ill and died before he got the chance to see the impact his words made on the wizarding world.

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire

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daisymintt · 1 year ago

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Merlin Fic Prompts

Arthur gets separated and injured while on patrol and is taken in by the kind forest Druid Merlin who nurses Arthur back to health. During this time Arthur sees a side of magic he’s never been exposed to before and questions everything he’s been taught.

A series of letters Merlin’s writes to his mom telling her about his adventures in Camelot

Winter Soldier AU where Morgana discovers Merlin had magic but doesn’t know he’s Emrys. Uses the Fomarrah on him and instead of killing Arthur orders him to swear undying loyalty to her, to do anything she asks. Merlin essentially becomes like her Winter Soldier and wrecks havoc on villages. When Arthur hears about a dangerous sorcerer named Myrddin attacking villages he goes to investigates, still depressed about the lose of Merlin, and is shocked to discover that it Myrddin is Merlin except Merlin doesn’t remember him or anything before the fomarrah was implanted. Arthur now has a new goal of getting his best friend back and break Morgana’s hold on him.

The Purple Tunic. Merlin’s birthday comes and goes with no celebration, Gaius being overrun with patients and Merlin stuck with an impossibly long list of chores from Arthur. When Arthur learns that Merlin’s birthday had passed he feels bad and leaves the purple tunic for him in his room as a gift.

Arthur kills a Druid women and as she lays dying she roughly grabs his arm and curses him to experience suffer any wound he deals. Arthur struggles with his self worth now that he can’t protect his people as a knight without hurting himself

Arthur and Merlin get cursed so that whenever one gets hurt the other suffers the same wound (like Barbara and Strickler from Trollhunters)

Merthur WandaVision AU

S3 E12 AU where Merlin does actually fight Gwaine and Arthur is the one that has to be physically held back

Seeing Double. Merlin has always had a lot of work what with helping Gaius, being Arthur’s manservant, and saving everyone’s lives in a near daily basis. One day he is so busy he tries a new spell that’s suppose to create a double of you that lasts for 24 hours. Arthur thinks he’s going mad because he keeps seeing double of Merlin.

Mama’s Boy. Hunith is taken prisoner by some bandits and that sets Merlin on a warpath to get her back with Arthur at his side.

Merlin gets captured by a dark sorcerer who knows he’s Emrys and has him chained up in cold iron. While he’s imprisoned the sorcerer bloodlets him, planning to sell the blood of Emrys on the black market keep Merlin alive enough not to fight back.

Arthur falls and hurts his arm. Merlin examines it and diagnoses it, “You’ve fractured your ulna.” Gwaine perks up at this, “Ulna? I think I dated an Ulna once.”

While picking herbs for Gaius Merlin finds an injured and orphaned fox kit and brings it back with him. One day it gets out of his room and chaos ensues. He nearly catches it in Arthur’s room when Arthur returns and he tries to play it cool.

AU where as Freya lay dying in Merlin’s arms they get married, using blades of grass as their rings. The knights don’t notice at first but eventually one of them asks about it and Merlin gets all sad.

Merlin wakes in the middle of the night to someone breaking into Gaius’s chambers, covered in blood

A servant of two masters AU where instead of sending Merlin in to assassinate Arthur she makes a sting bulb of Merlin and sends it in. A day after it gets sent away Merlin breaks out of Morgana’s and races to save Arthur. Stabs a sword through his clone’s stomach. When it dies it turns into a pile of humus. Arthur starts to get suspicious of Plant!Merlin when he stops eating and he swears he saw Merlin stick his finger in water and drink it. Plant!Merlin also gets weak after long period’s without sunlight and ‘wilts’. Gwiane refuses to give up on his search for Merlin and sets out on his own. Finds Merlin in Morgana’s hovel and together they escape back to Camelot.

Modern Day Merlin, Merlin starts suffering from symptoms of Mahd Wy'ry which affects and causes him to have psychotic episodes at random, due to the weight of his memories. Leon finds him during one of these episodes.

That scene from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron where Merlin holds an injured Arthur on the banks of a river when the bad guys find them and tear them apart despite their pleas. The knights find Arthur and once he’s stronger they set out to save Merlin.

Merlin and Arthur argue that the other wouldn’t last a day in the others shoes so Arthur comes up with the idea of ‘swapping places’ while they are visiting another kingdom that has never met Arthur before. The knights are in on it. They swap clothes and for a week Merlin is Arthur and Arthur is Merlin.

When kids start disappearing in the middle of the night Merlin sets out to investigate and is nearly killed

Morgana visits Gaius because she feels nauseous and while she’s there she throws up on her dress. Merlin lets her borrow some of his clothes and Arthur walks in sees her and thinks they’re courting. Arthur gets jealous.

That scene from Disneys Robin Hood where they dress as fortune tellers but it’s Merlin and Arthur and they do it in order to get into a bandits keep without arousing suspicion and getting something of importance they stole (Arthurs mothers sigil? His mothers ring?)

Merlin has parasomnia and often wanders the castle at night, often to Arthurs room

Merlin opens a haven for magical creatures/beings/people. Arthur wanders into and is nearly drowned by a naiad but Merlin saves him

Merlin Tarzan AU with a hint of Valka from HTTYD2. Balinor refuses to help Uther trap the last dragon and instead frees it. He takes shelter in Ealdor where he falls in love and has a child with Hunith. One day Uther finds them and, finding themselves cornered with no chance of escape, Balinor calls upon Kilgarrah. Balinor is killed and Hunith is taken prisoner to be used as bait for Merlin someday. Kilgarrah takes baby Merlin to a safe haven for dragons where he is raised by dragons. Many years later Merlin heard about the legend of the dragon egg and sets out to find it. During this journey he meets Prince/King Arthur. Although rivals at first they soon realize they have the same goal, return magic and dragons to Camelot.

Dragonlord side effects. The days following the activation of his Dragonlord powers Merlin starts to experience some side effects. Each chapter is a different side effect.

After Arthur becomes king he reinstates the holiday Saturnalia. Merlin gets elected the “Mock King” giving him a free pass to cause as much mischief and mayhem as he would like

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ryverbind · 5 months ago

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Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Path We Tread [25]

Sal's freshly folded Breaking Benjamin hoodie is soft in my hands. I haven't washed it, but I figured I'd return it after accidentally stuffing it into my bag the other night.

I set it on top of the cat carrier that's prepped and housing a cheerful Gizmo who purrs like a fully powered motorboat. And he's too cute, too happy to see me, so I grin down at the orange feline and brace one hand on Sal's car door and lean down to give the little guy some scratches.

He purrs against my hand, big green eyes closed as he shoves his head into my palm and basically pets himself. I can't help but huff out a laugh, smile widening because of the little fur ball.

Yesterday, The Faces and I spent the day visiting with Henry and Lisa. Since they aren't moving to LA with us, considering they have their music store here, we wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. Especially Larry and Sal.

"Are you done coddling my cat?" Sal gripes behind me. I sigh a bit disappointedly, rubbing under Gizmo's chin before zipping the carrier closed.

Turning to the cat dad, I back away from the black Camaro. Sal gives me a not-so-serious glare before placing himself in my previous spot, snatching the hoodie I'd just laid down and unfolding it. So particular.

"He likes my coddling," I murmur, tipping my head to the side as I peer at Sal both out of curiosity and admiration. The sun beating down on him, illuminating all the shades of blue in his hair. It's still chilly here, Nockfell's norm.

Which explains why Sal starts pulling the hoodie over his head, but I still have to try my best not to gape. What happened to him being terrified of my cooties?

"No one likes your coddling," he responds, deadpan.

I regard him nonchalantly, pursing my lips. "Your mom does."

Sal's eyes go wide, the action setting off a warpath of alarm bells in my head. I watch him warily, but then the corners of his eyes crinkle and he whips his head away from me to choke on a... giggle.

My mouth twitches in a smile that I desperately attempt to stomp down. His laughter is so symphonic, so heavenly, so rare. Worst of all, it's infectious. And, most concerning, the joke wasn't that funny. So I hesitantly inquire, "What?"

Sal takes a breath, tucking a strand of cobalt hair behind his ear. Like he's purposefully trying to display that damned dagger that haunts my every sleeping and waking moment. "There's a punchline to that joke," he croons, eyes alight with such mischief that I brace myself, hold my breath.

"My mother is dead."

The breath I held punches past my lips, expelled in a gag-cough tag team on my lungs, my throat, my fucking brain. My cheeks flush scarlet, the warmth of my embarrassment rippling through my body. Sweat beads at my forehead as utter dread courses through me.

His mom is dead?

"I— I'm sorry, I didn't—" I sputter, rushing to get the apology out as soon as possible. Because, while I wouldn't bat an eye if my own mother left this plane of existence for eternity, I certainly would if my father did.

Sal shakes his head, eyes shutting and head tilting forward as if to say he accepts my apology. "You didn't know," he says nonchalantly. "Besides, it's nice not to have to talk about her so seriously. I wish people didn't tiptoe around the topic."

"They tiptoe for a reason," I hiss, although halfheartedly. I'm just relieved he isn't suddenly snapping at my heels with rage again. "Because it is serious."

Sal shrugs, a calm and relaxed glow to his cerulean gaze. For once. I almost forget that he's public enemy number one for a moment. "Yea, well," he sighs dramatically, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Gave me a reason to scare the shit out of you again. Seeing you ready to kiss my feet and beg for forgiveness is just such a lovely sight."

He does all of this on purpose. And screw him for using me as his comedic act constantly. "Suck it, Fisher," I sneer, feeling the terror in my veins finally transform into muted contempt. The anger isn't so bad, not like it used to be.

His gaze snaps to me, and just like every other time we look at each other, I can't tell what he's feeling as he murmurs, "So long as you consent."

I gulp, ditching what wrathful thoughts had gathered in my fortress of a mind. It's all quickly replaced with a throbbing in my very bones, another tinge of color to my cheeks, and a wild replay of all the times he had his head buried between my legs recently.

Hands clamp down on my shoulders and I flinch with the agility of a cat who just lost it's second to last life-- since Sal has taken all my other damn lives.

"Hey, angel," Ash coos from behind. I peek over my shoulder to see her grinning down at me. But her happy expression doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Sal's going to drop us off at the airport. As much as you two live to hate and loathe each other, we need to talk."

Oh, no. Oh, fuck. We need to talk? That statement never, ever ends well. Does she know about us? Is she about to kick me out of the group— or Sal? Or is there going to be this brutally mortifying conversation about how she knows but she'd never tell anyone and she absolutely requires an invite to the wedding?

I suppress a shudder.

Instead, I purse my lips, tongue cemented to the roof of my mouth as every one of my four limbs goes completely rigid. "I'd rather hotbox in a car full of Larry's farts," I declare, more than ready to do just that. He ate about half his body weight in tamales last night.

Ash's eyes go wide, her brows furrowing as a guilty smirk quirks her lips. "You would rather—" she cuts herself off, shaking her head and looking up at the sky to avoid the giggles she would no doubt conjure up if she looked at me for too much longer. "Just get in the car, y/n," she commands, voice wavering with hidden laughter.

I look back to Sal and take note of the lack of color in his eyes. Seconds ago, they were bright and full of mirth. Now... they're empty. Grave. Numb.

It snaps a little bit of clarity into me, so I do as Ash said and climb into his back seat, right beside Gizmo who chirps a greeting to me. I give the orange cat a smile as Ash shuts my door, but I'm roiling with too much anxiety to do more than that.

Ash is about to have a meeting with me and Sal. The three of us. She's either going to ball us out for fighting so much, or she knows that we're fucking. And if it's neither of those, then I don't know what else it could be. I think the unknown scares me more than the other options.

Ash plops herself into the passenger seat, using the 'oh-shit' handle to adjust herself before shutting her door and buckling. She throws her head over her shoulder, grinning at me. "So," she says giddily as Sal climbs into the driver's seat. "Hot rod, old ass, family heirloom. How are we feeling?"

I raise an eyebrow that she can't see. "It's a car."

"And a treasure," she finishes thoughts I did not have, watching me with eyes that say I should cherish this gift of a ride. "How are you not tweaking with excitement? This thing is older than you!"

"Because it's a car," I repeat, narrowing my eyes at her. I don't want to kill her short-lived joy, but I'm too paranoid.

The car suddenly roars to life and maybe— for a split second— I understand Ash's elation. It might be older than my grandpa (bless his heart) but it purrs like a newborn kitten. I'll give it that much.

Sal mumbles something I can't hear then situates his hand on the back of Ash's headrest, head peering over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. His eyes meet mine for a short moment before they avert to the window, making sure Henry's car is down the road before beginning to back up.

Oh, if I was Ash with his hand behind my head like that, I'd be feeling a lot of things. Horny being the most prevalent. I definitely wouldn't admit that though.

"Hey," Ash mutters, eyes on Sal who switches gears and begins driving behind his dad. "Are you... are you sure?"

So it's something they both know about? A spear of unease slashes through my gut, a clear reminder of this conversation we're about to have. The acknowledgement of it makes the inside of Sal's car grow thick with tension. It's almost unbearable— even Gizmo's purring has halted.

"Just get it over with," Sal grumbles, eyes on the road and fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

I swallow thickly, watching the way Sal completely checks out of reality. Something about his position, his unblinking gaze tells me he's drifted somewhere foreign. He isn't here right now— he's simply driving.

"Okay," Ash whispers before turning to me. Her glossy lips are stretched into a tight line, a shadow of grief darkening her angelic features. "Listen," she starts, normally light and airy tone morphed into something a bit apprehensive, sad. "I'm not going to get into the details of this because it's not my story to tell. But Sal, Larry, Todd, and I agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest to give you a heads up... and somewhat of an explanation."

I swipe my tongue along the seam of my lips, my mouth suddenly dry with the worry that skitters along my spine. I say nothing, simply wait for her to continue.

"We are moving to LA to be closer to opportunities, and since it's more fitting for our streaming careers," She tells me, viridian gaze zeroed in on mine. "But there's another, more pressing reason as to why we're moving."

I nod along, waiting, biting my tongue in nervous anticipation. This is where I crumble to ruins, right? When every bad decision I've made comes crashing down around me. I mentally brace myself, fingers closing around the door handle a bit tighter.

"There's a... woman." Sal's hands tighten around the steering wheel, unknowingly mimicking my own actions. "She really hurt Sal. She was put in prison for two years, but... she's being released next week. We don't want Sal to be near her, nor do we want to be near her."

Every bit of air leaves my lungs upon hearing Ash's words. Two years? What the hell did she do to him? I glance at Sal through his rearview mirror, noting how he stares disinterestedly through the windshield.

A kind of emotion I can't quite explain rushes through me. It's understanding, shared grief, fury, sorrow. None of it is aimed at him. It's for him. And part of me aches to avenge him, to find this girl and make her hurt the way she made him hurt.

The truth of it is painful, like some part of me is slowly being ripped apart from my body. It's all so unfamiliar. I can't understand why I feel so strongly about it, especially since I don't even know what this unknown woman has done. The sudden influx of emotions and undeciphered realization that's suddenly hit me overpowers every one of my brain neurons, but I make quick work to try and break everything down.

Now, I understand why he was willing to give me anything so long as I agreed to sex the other night. It was as much of an escape for him as it was for me. I wasn't the only one who needed a distraction.

I feel everything so deeply right now, and assessing the depth of all this emotion makes me realize that I must care for Sal a lot more than I originally thought I did.

Ash lets me mull over the information before speaking again. I feel my heart rumbling, echoing through the hollowness in my chest as she spills more to me.

"The reason we're telling you this at all is specifically because there are people shipping you and Sal together online. Of course, the focus on whatever the hell is going on with you and North has taken some of the heat away from you and Sal— but there's still enough going around that it's worth warning you." I suck in a shaky breath. "This woman has been known to target other women who have a close relationship to Sal. It's all via stalking online and harassment, but it's something I don't want you to have to go through. Something none of us want you to go through."

I'd take it all if it meant I'd get to enact revenge. For myself. For Sal. For both of us. I don't know.

Ash must see it on my face; the tidal wave of emotions that keep crashing into me relentlessly. She gives me a knowing look, a sad smile as if to say she understands. "So, keep us in the know, okay?" She says sweetly, reaching back with her hand, opening it for me. I blink, clutching her warm palm in mine. "If anyone messages you and it's really shitty, or if Sal is mentioned or something, tell us. We'll figure it out." She squeezes my hand, thumb running over my skin. "You aren't alone."

My eyes flit over to Sal again, trying to catch his gaze in the mirror. It almost seems as if he's avoiding me. I try to tell myself it's because he's driving, obviously, but it doesn't feel that way. He doesn't even bother to check if there are any cars behind us, just robotically stares ahead with the air condition gently ruffling his hair. Sleeping with Sirens softly playing on his radio.

My gaze drifts to him throughout the rest of our thirty minute drive to the airport right outside of Nockfell. I can't help myself. Can't help the weight that burdens me.

Eventually, Sal looks down from the windshield to shift his car to park once we get into the parking lot. Then he looks to Ash, gestures for her to get out of the car. And Ash, ever the goddess, snorts before opening her door.

I turn to Gizmo, stick my finger through a slit in his carrier, and scratch under his chin before parting ways, preparing to leave through the door that Ash has opened for me.

"Okay," Ash sighs, a cheery lilt in her voice. "Enough of the bad, more of the rad. It's moving time."

Sal throws open his door before it can even fully unlatch, a man desperate to escape the horrors of his past. The sight causes a twinge of pain in my chest, but I ignore it. I can contemplate this conversation when I'm safe on our plane and have nothing better to do.

I warily walk into the parking lot, surfacing beside Larry who has a blanket bunched in his arms and a pair of headphones around his neck. Something tells me his flight is going to be nice.

Larry takes note of me and throws an arm over my shoulder, offering me a sleepy grin that I try my best to fully return The comfort of his somewhat embrace is needed though. I'm still feeling the whiplash of the conversation I sat in on for the ride here.

I gently grab Larry's wrist and hold on, his thumb comfortingly rubbing over the inside of my palm.

"I think I've got everyone's bags ready to go," Henry says with a little sigh, hands on his hips and cheeks colored pink from handling everyone's luggage. I spot the backpack I came with and watch as Neil scoops it up, throwing a strap over his shoulder.

"I can't believe we're leaving," Ash mutters from beside me, frowning at Henry and Lisa. Her parents didn't come along to tell her goodbye. I hadn't asked her about it because the stress of moving is already enough on her shoulders, but I can't begin to imagine how painful the situation must be for her. I remember how tough it was for me to realize my mom didn't want to be a part of my life anymore-- at least, she 'wanted' to be a minuscule part of my life but not for the right reasons.

Henry smiles warmly at her, walking over to ruffle her hair. "You've said that about fifty times in the last 24 hours, squirrel." His dad chuckle follows and I find myself subconsciously smiling at their interaction. Henry became a stand-in dad for Ash the same way Lisa became a stand-in mom for me. Realizing this brings me some solace. It's a little sliver of light in the darkness of my overwhelmed mind.

Ash smacks her lips then purses them, trying and failing to hide her affectionate smile. "I know, I know," she fusses, running lithe fingers through her chestnut hair. "It just... doesn't feel real. I've lived in Nockfell for so long."

"And I would be failing all of you if I let you stay here any longer," Henry says gently, helping Ash with her hair by tucking a strand behind her ear. "You're all blowing up. Your options and resources are astronomically limited here. We, as parents, don't raise you to walk in our footsteps. We raise you to walk beyond the path we tread. You're all doing that." Henry's gaze passes over all of us, his eyes watery with a mixture of torment and pride. "So I want you to thrive somewhere that you have a chance to exploit your gifts--" Another sweet smile and I'm getting emotional alongside him. I didn't think I'd wake up this morning with a constant lump in my throat. "Just come visit every once in a while, 'kay?'

Larry's arm flexes around my shoulders and I blink past my tears, squeezing his wrist in my hold. I watch as Sal walks up beside Ash, a hand grasping her shoulder as her bottom lip begins quivering.

I didn't expect this to be so... hard. I knew it'd kill me to leave Nockfell a second time, but taking my old friends with me and having to part with people who have slowly become family is deeply gut-wrenching.

I've learned a lot on this trip. I saw so many things that make it hard to leave because I'm afraid of never seeing them again. I found out that Sal Fisher has a heart, and it's a pretty good one. He has issues, some of which have no doubt influenced his personality, but he's not soulless. He can be kind, he can be funny, he can be a friend. And Henry has clearly been a large influence on the good parts of Sal-- his father is the most selfless person I've ever met, gentler than a mother with her newborn. He has a heart of gold with morals and values that defy modern humanity. The moment Sal took my face into his hands and averted my attention during a panic reflected all the things his father has taught him-- all the warmth he has that he's hidden for so long. Hidden from me.

Looking at Sal now, noting his hand that tenderly runs over the back of Ash's head in nearly the same way Henry did, just reinforces the difference I've observed.

Ash wraps Henry up in a crushing hug, squeezing the man close to her. And he doesn't seem to mind-- in fact, he holds her just as tight. The man presses a kiss to her hair before moving over to hug his son.

We all hug Henry and Lisa, our parting about as heart-wrenching as an ASPCA commercial. But the bright side is that we know we'll see each other again. With our jobs in the streaming industry, we'll have enough money to make frequent trips.

Lisa holds me for a long time, her head rested atop mine and her fingers threading through my hair. Giving me the mother-like comfort that I crave every now and again. And Henry, he presses a kiss to my head the same way he did for everyone else. It's a soothing relief to know that I matter as much to him as the rest of The Faces do.

As I break away from my embrace with Henry, I watch Sal pull Ash to him, his hand cupping the back of her head and holding her close. I can't quite describe the kind of emotion that zaps me when he pulls his dad's signature move and presses his prosthetic lips to Ash's forehead. It's such a precious moment to witness. Ash's response makes it even sweeter; she playfully swats at his arm before leaning down a tad to kiss the cheek of his mask.

I can't help but smile fondly at their sibling-like affection, even if it echoes a bit in the hollowness inside me. I want to be cherished so badly in this moment, to be loved the way this family loves each other.

Sal moves around, hugging Larry, Todd, and Neil before taking a step back as everyone prepares to say their final goodbye's.

The disheartened smile doesn't leave my face as everyone mutters saddened parting words. But I spare a glance at Sal to find him watching everyone the same way I am. His eyes are squinted, the sole indication of his smile beneath that prosthetic.

My breath catches when his eyes, a crystal clear image of the overcast sky today, meet mine. He simply looks at me for a moment, then holds up a hand, middle finger on display.

I blanch, oxygen rushing back into my lungs, filling the void I've refused to acknowledge. Compared to his refusal to even come to the airport in Vegas, I'd say this is a step up.

I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt to disguise the smile that pulls at my lips and the fluttering in my chest as I flick him off in return.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Dragging my backpack onto this rickety airplane takes a lot of guts. It's so run down and beat up that I can't help but wonder if Amelia Earhart was the last person to sit in the pilot's seat. But hey, if I go missing, I'd be solving a lot of problems. Win-win?

I walk down the skinny aisle, pausing to find my seat-- only to realize that Todd and I are riding together for this trip.

I smile warmly at my dear friend, scooting past him and toward the window seat.

Sighing, I plop into my seat and fasten my seatbelt. "Hey, Todd. It's a shame you and Neil got separated."

Todd tips his head in a silent greeting, a little smile on his freckled face. "Not a shame at all. This is his punishment," he replies nonchalantly. I simply blink at him while fighting off an onslaught of giggles. They seem like the type to have random arguments and disagreements every once in a while. They're totally the couple that fully believes their hiccups make their relationship fun, too.

"I stand corrected then," I chuckle as I pull my phone from my pocket. "Just so you know," I continue, leaning toward him to whisper, "I'm on your side."

Todd laughs, the sound much like bells tolling on a lovely spring morning. He pats my wrist, gives it a little squeeze. "As you should be."

I give him another quick smile before looking at my phone.

I probably shouldn't message Sal. I should just leave it be. I'm not obligated in any way, shape, or form, but... the whole situation is weighing on me. I won't be able to stop thinking about our conversation until I extend my hand-- in whatever weird way that I can given this situation Sal and I have found ourselves in.

And, yes. Of course my messaging him is a split second decision that I'm bound to regret. I feel... closer to him. Like we've bonded somehow.

Famous last words.

This is a true fool's rose-tinted glasses because Sal is complicated. All of this is complicated and I'm probably mistaking my relation and guilt for his traumas as us forming a connection.

I swallow over the nerves that ravage me whole and pull up discord, clicking on Sal's and my private messages. His last text to me altered our entire situation. It started all of this:

SALLYFʌCɜ: i wouldn't have made the promise if i didn't intend on keeping it. watch what you say and give ash five minutes to remember that you're in the room. actually, give her brain a boost. SALLYFʌCɜ: come here.

I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating his last message to me before typing up a quick message. I want it to be simple, easy, done. Without considering the past too much.

But I end up typing, deleting, and retyping up until our pilot announces that all passengers are boarded.

My fingers quake as I type up my last attempt and use every bit of willpower to refrain from deleting it all over again. My thumb hovers over the 'send' button and I force myself to look away, quickly smashing the button and pursing my lips as embarrassment rips me to shreds.

I spare a glance down.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm good for more than just fucking if you need a reminder

Why the fuck did I say that? Why couldn't I be normal and just tell him I'd listen to his problems?

He starts typing.

I slap my phone face down onto my thighs and refuse to breathe for a full minute and a half. I take the time to build up the confidence to look, give myself a pep talk. I don't really care how stupid it was. It's done-- I can't change it. It doesn't matter and I don't care.

So with my heart knocking on my ribcage, I hesitantly lift my phone and look down.

SALLYFʌCɛ: i know. SALLYFʌCɛ: thank you

The guiltiest grin blooms on my face. I try my absolute hardest to smash the expression down, to tell myself that his appreciation isn't that serious. That this is just basic human decency. But, damn, something about the way he bothered to say 'thank you' instead of just 'thanks' or even nothing at all...

I put my phone on airplane mode then shut it off, look out the window as our plane begins to power up.

"Hey," Todd suddenly says, his voice inquisitive and a little concerned. "So, sorry if this is prying too much but it's kind of fucking killing me."

I turn my head to look at him, brow raised at his tone. "Don't worry about it," I murmur. "What's up?"

His dark eyes stare into mine-- deeply, investigating my soul like some kind of spiritual detective. I can't help but squirm beneath his heavy gaze, waiting for him to share his thoughts.

He starts slowly shaking his head. "I can't tell which one you're fucking."

Mentally, my eye is twitching.

I catch the shocked cough that almost escapes my mouth. Fear claws its way up my spine as I search through filing cabinets full of words in my head. "Uh," I intellectually start with. "Who says I'm fucking someone?"

Todd blinks, something like clarity morphing his features-- like he just got his answer. "Because you have North bricked up in the supply room of Henry's music store and Sal tracking your every movement like a dog salivating over a steak."

My mouth opens and closes silently up until my mental filing cabinet of words flies open and forces unintelligible sounds and words to fly through my mouth. I choke over my panic and slap a hand over my mouth, watching him with wide eyes.

Part of it is absolute amusement and disbelief over Todd's claims, but the other half of me is petrified by the fact that he sniffed me out immediately. Well, he's trying to, at least.

"I'm sorry?" I snort, my words muffled due to the hand that stays clutched to my mouth.

Todd gives me a no-bullshit look. "I won't say anything," he promises with a shrug. "I know I outted you in Vegas, but that's why I'm discussing the situation with you first this time."

"I'm not--" I pause, dropping my hand from my mouth to properly speak to him. I'm trying to school this and keep the terror out of my gaze, but I think he already knows. "I'm not fucking anyone," I declare, tilting my head down to accentuate my claim.

Maybe he'll buy it. I need him to buy it, actually.

It's not that I don't trust Todd, it's just that I know what he's going to say. It's the same thing anyone in The Faces would tell me-- the same thing Sal has insinuated repeatedly. That I shouldn't be fucking him. I want to avoid that because I already know. I don't want anyone else burying themselves in whatever the hell is going on because I don't even fully understand it myself.

This group is tight-knit. They care. They care so much that they would immediately tell me and Sal to end things and forget it ever happened because fuck buddies are 'toxic' and we 'hate' each other. But with Sal and me, it transcends all of that. We don't have half the issues we started out with, not to mention, our arrangement is working fine. And I'll admit that Sal is the farthest thing from shallow. There are so many twists and turns in his maze of a mind that I'm urged to navigate through it.

Maybe we're nothing remotely close to normal, it's the complete opposite of what constitutes as tradition. But everything before this pales in comparison. God forbid he hear my thoughts, but Sal is becoming a friend. I had to quickly accept that notion the moment I got defensive over his trauma.

Todd smacks his lips, a clear sign that he doesn't believe a word I've said. "Fine," he sighs. He seems a bit disappointed... but understanding. Todd loves drama, but he's thoughtful as well. He won't push me to talk if I don't want to. And let's face it, I'm sure he's already set on his opinion of the topic. The only thing he doesn't have is my confirmation.

"Just be careful, okay?" Todd's brows furrow a bit, a small frown pulling at his lips. "I know it isn't my business, but some secrets are a lot worse than you'd imagine. Fuck who you want, just don't get close enough to get wrapped up in feelings you'd regret."

Apprehension wraps its bony, ashen fingers around my heart and chokes the life out of it. I stare at Todd with wide eyes that have reacted of their own accord. I clench my teeth and think hard about how to organize my thoughts into something comprehensible.

"Is there something I should... know? About either or both of them?" I decide to ask, clearing my throat when my words come out whispered and hoarse, tangled with anxiety.

Todd presses his lips together, showing off his short temper. "I literally just told you they have secrets and to watch yourself. Read between the lines, y/n. Shakespeare should have taught you as much."

The pounding of my heart dies down a bit at Todd's rushed, frustrated sarcasm. The tension and fear are slowly dissipating, so I'll take Todd's claim to mean that he's just worried for me. North's and Sal's secrets can't be so bad-- everyone has baggage. And I mean, Sal's quite literally been through the wringer. An accident so bad it marred his face, a shitty woman who hurt him, and a dead mother. It can't get that much worse, can it?

I scoff playfully. "I hate Shakespeare. He was the worst person to choose for a comparison, Todd," I say gently, giving him a hesitant smile.

That sets Todd off. For the rest of our two hour flight, he argues with me about Shakespeare's genius. He made some pretty legit claims, saying that Shakespeare knew just how to throw backhanded comments to petty royals who didn't have smarts to decipher the true meaning. That Shakespeare was damn lucky he didn't get killed-- unless he was!

Yep, a whole debacle on his death came from that. It kept me entertained though. More importantly, it distracted me from Sal who, now that we've landed and are heading to our new apartments, I can't help but worry about.

Ash is sitting beside me watching the buildings of LA pass us by. She squeezes my hand here and again, smile widening when we come across landmarks she spent her own time searching up. It's so sweet-- all the places Ash couldn't visit on her first trip here are all available to her now.

Meanwhile, Larry's animatedly chatting with our Uber driver-- somehow he happened upon the topic of Speedos. Interestingly enough, our driver seems more than happy to let our friend talk. Neil chimes in here and again to add to Larry's outlandish remarks, making the driver nod in agreement or chuckle.

I watch the streets, slowly beginning to recall all the times I've walked these sidewalks within the past year. All my surroundings are starting to become familiar.

It's comforting knowing I won't be walking these streets alone anymore.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

I set my backpack on the floor, taking in the wide expanse of Sal and Larry's brand new living room. It's enormous; tall ceilings to accompany the loft to one side of the room, then a wall of windows with balcony doors across from me. As modern as it is, it has a nice, darker touch to it. The floors are grey oak, the walls a charcoal color, and the ceiling is bright white— a perfect contrast to the shade crawling upward.

I lick my lips, trying my best not to gape at the only room I've seen so far.

Larry whistles his adoration for the place, standing in the center of the room with his hands on his hips, inspecting every nook and cranny of his new home. He's but a speck of dust in a fancy cave. "This shit's pretty hardcore," he murmurs.

Neil places his bag on the floor beside mine, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Didn't you check the place out already, Lar?" he asks, a cheery edge to his voice.

Larry, in response, snorts and waves Neil's comment off. "Duh," he sarcastically answers. "This place has too much pizazz for me to not admire it like a middle aged man admires his new lawnmower. This is ejaculation material, bro."

Todd sighs obnoxiously, but Neil nods his head beside me, handsome smile on his face as he says, "Fair enough."

I seem to have found myself quite the group.

Ash glides her way through the entrance, giving the big room a once over and an approving nod that says she likes the apartment. She glances over at me, gestures with her elbow. "Looks pretty similar to ours, Vee," she chirps, viridian gaze glittering in the lovely sunshine that filters through the big windows. Sal and Larry didn't get an apartment, these dudes bought a house. In the sky. This thing is too extravagant to be undermined with the term of 'apartment.'

And then Ash's claim spins around my head, hitting all sides of my cranium to solidify the fact that we have a near identical home.

My eyebrows bunch together and I blink at Ash. "Wait, what?"

Ash simply shrugs, little grin plastered on her lips as she scrolls through her phone and plops herself onto the floor. She sits criss-cross applesauce and drags my backpack over to her, tucking it into her lap like a pillow. "I'm calling Sal to let him know we made it," she mutters, clicking on her phone a couple times before putting it on the ground in front of her.

I see a pig-tailed, really tiny Sal on her phone. His contact picture. He and Ash are standing side by side, both of them holding up bunny ears behind each other's heads. Ash looks exactly the way I remember her as a teenager. Sal looks the total opposite of what I thought though.

Part of me expected him to be this super lanky, scene kid. I mean, the hair said enough. But he just looks awkward and childlike here. His eyes are big and bright, happy. He's on his tiptoes to try and add some height to his small stature, so he doesn't look quite as short next to Ash. It's refreshing— clearly, he hasn't always been so... closed off, mean, and unhappy.

The call suddenly accepts and I'm forced back to reality, especially when someone who absolutely cannot be Sal Fisher answers the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart," he starts warmly, tone cosplaying as a literal cinnamon roll. Gooey, sweet, and cozy. "Did you guys make it safe?"

What brain slurping alien has taken over his body? There's no way that's him.

I think back to our night in Nockfell-- he called me sweetheart. He's calling Ash the same. Is this the true Sal? Laid back, caring, and gentle? Is that what he was trying to portray to me when we acted as distractions to one another?

"Sure did, mi corazón," Ash replies in a sing-song voice, rocking back and forth. "How are you and Gizzy? Staying safe? What's the ETA?"

I hear a low, content chuckle from the phone and swear I've been thrust into an alternate reality. "I'm fine, Giz is great. He's napping on my lap while I drive. Staying as safe as an eyeless guy can. And we should be there around midnight tonight."

Ash frowns. "Midnight? Why don't you guys stay the night at a hotel? Kinda risky to drive for so long."

Sal hums in contemplation. "My chances of finding a pet-friendly hotel are scarce. It's more trouble than it's worth. I don't usually go to bed 'til early in the morning anyway— you know that. I'll just get our bags down when we get there and save the unpacking for tomorrow."

"Let us know when you get here then," Ash murmurs worriedly. I grab my phone and check the time. It's six in the evening. Is he really going to drive for another six hours? "And please, drive safe. Don't forget to eat and stay hydrated. You literally take, like, two weeks off all our lives the longer you aren't around," she adds, tone much like a grandma fussing.

Sal laughs heartily on the line and my lips quirk up at the sound. "I will, I will," he replies to her, voice lovingly tender. "I'm about to stop to pick up dinner and feed Gizmo. I'll update you later, 'kay?"

"Okay," Ash chirps, satisfied with Sal's promise. "Ik houd van jou!" She kicks her feet after speaking, pinching her lips together and staring at the ceiling excitedly, waiting. Ash and her languages... I have no idea which one she just spoke, but usually if it's not in English, she's saying 'I love you.'

"You too, darling." Sal knows her as well as I do. This interaction is too precious-- I should not have been present for it.

Ash ends the call then looks over at us. "He's in such a good mood," she whisper yells, exhilaration scrawled across her face. She looks like she just did a line of coke. "He never says he loves me too!?" She whips her head to Larry, eyes narrowing as she inspects him. And Larry, he balks; holds his hands up in surrender to accompany his saucer-sized gaze.

"Is he on drugs? Did you give him something?" Ash asks, raising an eyebrow but never letting up that little glare she has going.

"No!" Larry exclaims, voice cracking. His surrendering hands turn upward in an exasperated shrug. "Why the hell would I send him on a road trip with drugs? We're talking about Sal."

"Exactly. We are talking about Sal. Sal who likes to party with you. See where I'm going?" Ash counters, tilting her head to accentuate her point.

Larry opens his mouth to argue, but then his brows furrow and he snaps his mouth shut, looking off to the side contemplatively. I'm still reeling over this news about Sal supposedly liking parties. "Okay, I see," Larry grumbles. "But seriously, I didn't give him anything. Hell, I don't even have anything."

"I wonder what the hell has him so cheery then," Ash mumbles to herself.

"It's trauma, dude, I swear," Larry declares passionately, pointing at Ash with one hand while the other buries itself into his hair. He's just had an 'aha!' moment. "He's fucking coping. Let the man cope."

Ash stuffs her face into her hands. "Larry," she says darkly, voice muffled. My hair stands on end at her tone and I note Larry grimacing beside me. "That is not funny."

Larry purses his lips and takes two steps back. I watch him struggle, cheeks going red as his mouth works. Like he's trying so desperately hard to not say something. But when can he ever keep his mouth shut, right? This is King Cockblock. Emo Buff Daddy.

"Sal would've laughed," he says softly, wincing when Ash's head snaps up and she sends him a cold glare.

I giggle when Ash launches into a full frontal attack, heading straight for Larry who squeals like a piglet. Todd simply sighs, pinching Neil's arm who laughs at our friends.

As unclear as everything is, I know that I can rely on the people here with me. The excitement on their faces just from knowing they have a new start, surrounded by one another. This is solid, this is good.

Ash and I eventually find our way three stories above Sal and Larry's apartment to our own apartment. It's at this exact moment that reality sets in. Not only will I be beside Ash every single day from here on out, but the rest of our friends are in the same exact building. For as long as I've felt alone, I feel stuffed with company and I love every bit of it.

She wasn't wrong either. Our apartment is essentially the lighter, more feminine version of Sal and Larry's. The floor is a dark, mahogany color but the walls are eggshell white, creating a lovely contrast in the room. Our ceilings are still stunningly tall, but unlike Sal and Larry, we don't have a loft. Just a lot of fan room, as Ash joked.

We spent time having our 'ooh' and 'ahh' moment, exploring our spacious three bedroom apartment and its bathrooms. And not long afterward, we set up the one blanket I brought with us in the middle of our living room. We ordered ramen and had a picnic beneath the moonlight fluttering in through our balcony windows.

It's a girl's night that I've been craving since the moment I first left Nockfell all those years ago.

Ash ends up dragging me and our little blanket out onto our balcony so we can stargaze. In fact, we're in the middle of discussing Twenty One Pilots's new album when pale hands suddenly drop onto Ash's shoulders.

She and I both yelp, Ash's arms flailing and her eyes squeezed shut in absolute terror as she flings herself off our blanket. I flinch, spinning in my sitting position to see Sal who's absolutely grinning beneath his prosthetic.

I look past him, noting Larry and Neil hovering in our living room with bags and suitcases surrounding them.

Oh, an important note, all three men are completely shirtless. Even better, they're a little sweaty too.

"What the fuck, Sally!?" Ash yells, sighing exasperatedly as she lifts herself from the ground and walks over to Sal, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "You're lucky I'm relieved about you being here because I would so twist your dick if this were any other situation."

"Thanks for sparing me then," he chuckles, hand splaying across Ash's lower back as they break their embrace.

I've found myself wordless all day. I feel like a spectator-- like I'm not even here with them on this balcony.

Ash ignores his remark. "Why are your nipples out? Why do you smell like a wet dog?" she asks instead, wrinkling her nose and leaning away from him.

Sal rolls his eyes and moves his arm away from her. "Because I've been unloading. Why else?" He steps aside, ushering Ash back into the apartment with a gesturing hand.

She follows his unspoken command, walking through the balcony doors and beholding the sheer amount of smelly men in our new home. "You should have called us for help," Ash murmurs, hands on her hips as she comes to a stop before Larry and Neil.

Sal doesn't answer her immediately. Instead, he looks over at me with his bright eyes that have been phenomenally captured by the moonlight above. He tilts his head toward the door, silently telling me to follow Ash's lead.

Gulping, I lean down and quickly gather my blanket in my arms, trying my absolute best not to express the nerves ravaging me whole. Sal's here. I don't really hate him like I thought I did. And he hasn't spewed insults at me yet. It's awkward and I feel... shy?

I start walking to the door, making absolute sure not to look at him.

As I pass through the threshold, I can feel the very tips of Sal's fingers brush along my side. Even in LA's smoldering weather, chills suddenly erupt along my skin. I don't know what kind of touch it was-- a greeting or a reminder of his presence-- but it was certainly something.

I suck in a quick breath, counting my steps so as not to trip over my feet as I walk further into the room.

Sal follows, shutting our balcony doors behind him and moving to point at all the luggage on the floor. And, oh, thank God, someone was either smart enough or kind enough to bring an air mattress. "This is all your shit, Ash," Sal sighs sarcastically, though there's some amusement beneath his facade.

"How did you manage to fit all of this into Sal's trunk?" Larry asks, gathering his hair into his hands, a ponytail between his teeth. "Everyone else had, like, three bags. Here you are, bringing your entire closet and then some."

"Uh, yea." Ash's attitude comes out full force, a glint in her forest eyes that says she's ready for this argument. "I brought my entire house, dude. I just moved states away, if you didn't know."

Neil cackles, grabbing onto Larry's shoulder for support. "I'm so glad we all moved together. I never get tired of you guys."

Someone get this man out of the room. Neil's a really handsome mouse surrounded by vultures, especially shirtless like this. Sal blinks at him then turns away and-- honestly-- I'm not far from having to do the same.

Ash smirks at Neil, shifting her weight to one leg to accentuate her little sassy pose. "You're going to get tired of us when we finish unpacking our stuff. After that, we're going pack up all of y/n's stuff to haul it here."

Neil tries to mask the way his face suddenly falls at the reminder that we're moving me here too, but he miserably fails. His quivering lips say enough and the group of us can't help but burst into laughter.

"It shouldn't be too bad." I send Neil a reassuring smile. "I'll rope Nate into helping us somehow--"

"Your hot LA bestie?" Ash squeaks excitedly. She turns to me with her hands fisted beneath her chin, her previous attitude mist in the wind now.

My brows furrow. "You think Nate is hot? You? Ms. Scissoring Expert herself?" I can't help but pick on her a bit.

Ash's excitement morphs into flattery at the name I came up with for her. "Oh, come on. It's not that shocking is it? I indulge in men sometimes."

"Yea, every three blue moons," Sal chimes in, watching us with a tilted head and narrowed eyes.

Ash sticks her tongue out, mocking him before she focuses back on me. "Definitely invite the hottie," she tells me with raised brows.

Whatever Ash wants, Ash gets.

I grab my phone without another word and start typing out a message to Nate. Ash watches over my shoulder, her coconut and poppy scented hair brushing along my chin.

Me: hey, i'm moving. help pack???? pls???? :DDD

Nate: I swear I wasn't serious about revoking your brownie rights. You don't have to leave.

Me: LMAO i promise that's not the reason the faces just moved to la & ash invited me to live with her soooo

Nate: So you hate me is what I'm hearing.

Me: --_--

Nate: Lol. Kidding. You know I'm happy to help with whatever you need.

Me: this is why ur my favorite ex <33

Ash gasps. "You dated the hottie?" I fling my head around to look at her, forgetting she was in on this entire conversation.

"Woah," Larry adds, hands waving like he's washing windows. "You dated the guy who tried to kill you before our stream?"

I shake my head disappointedly, glancing down at my phone to see if Nate fixed my fuck up. And he has, so I show everyone the message.

Nate: We've never dated. I'm not your ex.

Me: but you're clingy like one so you might as well be... plus you literally drop everything to help me

Nate: Have fun packing on your own.

Me: I'M SORRY I WAS JOKING

Larry's cackling by this point, watching the conversation over my other shoulder. "I'm so proud of you for inheriting my good humor," he squeezes my shoulder in his big palm, causing a grin to split across my face.

The boy's start talking about something that I don't care to listen to. I just spare Sal a couple glances, noting his unfazed and easygoing persona right now. All day, I went against all that my DNA has decided about him. I've worried and sympathized, battled myself constantly at the expense of my own sanity just because he showed some of his truth to me once.

Nockfell changed things.

I left LA lustful and I've returned with a friend.

-----

A/N::::: WHO'S READY FOR THE GANG TO MEET NATE OMGGGGGG

so sorry it's been fucking FOREVER guys >~< this was kind of a hard chapter to write. i had a general layout with certain scenes and whatnot but i've had to do SO many transitions, as you can see. I kinda hate that cuz i'd much rather stick with one theme and gently lead into side pieces in one chapter rather than bouncing ALL over the place. but, as you can tell, this chapter was needed to address some of sal's issues, y/n's thoughts and feelings as of current, as well as the way their relationship has changed a bit :3

ofc the other reason i've been gone is cuz of that stupid accident i had o_O for those who don't know, the summary is that i hit my foot so hard it made me faint and i literally shmacked my head on the floor HAHAAAAA here's the update: it's been two weeks and my foot hurts even more than it did when the accident happened. the day of, i got x-ray's and my doc said that i just had a bruise but i'm going to another doctor for a second opinion. i'm literally not even bruised anymore, but still swollen asf and can hardly walk sooooo that's tomorrow's agenda. i'll update you guys again when i find out more!!! (psa, if my foot is broken/fractured before my beach trip in two weeks, the hospital i went to better start counting its MONEY not its DAYS because guess who'll be going to fucking COURT with my DISCHARGE PAPERS AND WORK EXCUSE STATING THAT I AM HEALTHY AND OKAY TO WALK AROUND??????????)

tell me how i can improve! how could i make my transition smoother? what are some thoughts and/or actions i could add in to make things more entertaining and personal? also give me some fun words!! i need to expand my vocabulary >.<

anyway, as always, i love you guys with all three of my working limbs, even my janky foot. smooches and squishes my loves <333

(p.s. sorry for the long ass note)

(p.s.s. sorry for the shorter chap </3)

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #eventual smut

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jasontoddspussy · 4 months ago

Text

Zombie AU

tim is a death obsessed audhd child and collects books, trinkets, bones, you know it he wants it. his parents are still strict even though they're rarely there, so he has to pretend to be 'normal' as he goes about his daily life. The death stuff he collects he keeps secret, or he alludes it to archaeology so they don't ask questions.

sure, tim did see death as a small kid. he saw the death of the flying graysons but he doesn't even remember it. he doesn't think that's why he's so.. weird.

his normal act is amazing. however..

one day he's paired up with jason in class. maybe it's because tim doesn't know how to lie to the other boy

(tim is 12 here, jason just turned 13) because jason clocks him as weird right away. he doesnt believe his mannerisms or BS and tim's robin obsession just got way, way worse. because jason is just special like that.

he starts to follow robin and batman on patrol more than before, and starts setting up more cams, hacks into more stuff and tries to find other ways to help jason.

then one day tim almost falls off a roof and robin saves him, even though he's not supposed to act on his own. jason will ocassionally sneak out to do just that, though.

and jason just.. has this look on his face. and tims like red in his because ohmygosh thats robin robin saved him oh no be cool be cool

and jason, the smart dude he is, is like "so. you're the one who's been dumpin' all those pictures and what not by the batmobile. what're you doing out here by yourself, kiddo?"

and tims tongue tied bcs what is he supposed to say????? he just wants to help jason.

and then jason, not robin, starts to approach him more at school and tims so confused bcs they worked on their project. is this a trick? a dream? has jason figured out he knows??

jason does figure it out, but only because he's a bit of an idiot himself. or, well....

tim still follows them. he gets involved with an incident though and jason, on instinct, yells "tim!" and tim forgets to question him about it. he's not surprised at all or anything and jason is like

"... you know who i am, don't you? thats why you're not surprised or reactin' to me knowin' who you are" and tims like "uhm"

it ends up with jason sorta just going to drake manor whenever he and bruce fight or whenever dick and bruce fight. at 14 he starts to sneak out a lot more because robin gets benched a lot more and he wants more independence, and tim helps him, covers up for him, sets up more cameras for him and is in his ears on comms. its a dream come true.

jason has seen how weird he is. he's seen his death collection. he's heard all of tims rants and *he doesnt care*!! theyre still friends and tims over the moon.

then jason is 15 and tim's also out (bcs he's started sneaking out and stalking jay again, duh) or maybe they're out as civilians idk, but basically..

there's a villain, a rogue, who knows, not me yet, and tim moves to help and he does help! he helps get other civilians away but it leaves him wide open.

whoever is trying to shis-kebab tim is on a warpath but.. jason pushes him out of the way.

and ends up shiskebabed instead.

jay yells for tim to pick up the taser he'd dropped and tase the dude who is currently gutting jason and tim does, the dude drops, blacks out.

but all tim sees is jasons blood, blood, blood and gore and he's like fuck shit jason no!

so with bloody hands he steals jasons coms and turns them on to the batcave frequency and forces bruce to send the batmobile there. bruce is hesitating and tim yells at him that jason's fucking intestines are visible so he better send that stupid car right this instant

and jason's laughing but also grasping at tim bcs he's blacking out and knows it should be painful but he's feeling more numb than anything so he needs to be quick and tim shuts off the comms because this is between him and jay and jays like

"you're my best friend tim. thanks for that" and tims like no- jay no its gonna be fine you're going to be fine

tims trying to keep pressure on jasons wounds but he's been literally gutted like a fish and there's just so much blood and gore and tim's so out of his depth here

jason tells him to look out for them, and to take care of himself (tim) before his body goes limp.

batman doesnt make it in time, but neither did tim.

and tim screams, crying and angry and trying to somehow wake jason because it's jason its his robin is best friend his everything-

when bruce gets there on his knees and just, hand reaching out to take jason who tims holding, tim bites his hand and snarls at him. he bundles both of them into the car with shaking hands and a false calm.

an argument ensues because whu the fuck is the drakes kid with robin? why did he know who to call? what happened and oh god jason is dead.

bruce blames tim, but also himself for not realising that jason's been sneaking off for months (years, really) and he yells at tim. it ends with alfred asking bruce to stop hounding at a child, especially someone who was obviously jasons friend. bruce kicks him out of the manor. he doesnt invite him to the funeral but tim shows up anyway.

he doesnt see dick and asks bruce at the funeral where he is and bruce tells him dicks off world.

he realises bruce didn't tell him.

so he decides to hack into the watchtower, it takes him a while but he does it, so he can set up a connection to nightwing.

"hi. you dont know who i am. it doesnt matter, but.. fuck i shouldnt be the one to tell you this. b should be the one but he's too busy wallowing in self pity to be an actual fucking father! im. sorry that's off topic. im just. "

"kid how old are you? what's going on, how'd you even-"

"you deserve to know and since br-batman is such a loser he can't even pick up the phone, guess it falls to me because i promised. i promised to watch out for you. i... nightwing, sir. im. there's been..."

"...is b alright? is alfred?"

"no. no, nothings alright. there's a.. a family emergency. which is why i shouldn't be the one telling you this. it's about.. (voice breaks) it's about j-jay"

"...."

"jay's dead. he's been dead for weeks. i asked about you at the funeral i wasn't invited to, turns out neither were you. im sorry for being nosy but i promised jay. and i know he'd want you there. you deserve to know, even if its not my business."

"call ended"

but yeah tim decides then, to take matters into his own hands. bruce is being a bitch. dick is depressed and understandbly angry. alfred is.. too old.

so tim is going to find a way bring jay back. he steals his corpse and stashes him in his room with ice all around him, constantly caring for him as he goes through book after book on necromancy and black magic. he sews him up, replaces organs that'd been damaged, finds magic to make his body stronger.

he brews his own zombie potients, desperate and hoping for at least one of them working. it takes years. at some point he makes a potion that's a mix of lazarus waters and magic. it takes him a while but he finds the right potion. meanwhile, he's been replacing jasons organs (and specifically removing his uterus, as a treat) with fresher organs or more handy ones, like cat eyes or fangs. he's a teen let him have his fun.

he always draws his runes carefully with easy to wash off ink - for this blend he needs stronger stuff though so he'll etch it into jasons skin, too. he replaces different parts of jason to make life easier once he wakes up from the dead.

then one night his parents come home. jack goes to some convention and janet... walks in and sees a guy in her sons bed.

she's furious, because tim shouldn't be gay. and they get into an argument - when tim makes comments on how they're basically neglecting and abusive she pushes him and he hits his head - the smell of blood wakes jason up, the potion had worked, and he catatonically attacks janet, starting to eat her like a.. well, zombie.

tim is frozen and watches on and then when janet is like half eaten and very dead, jason blinks his now green eyes and is very, very confused but he recognises tim. tim, on instinct, dives to hug the now awake jason who opens his arms on habit. tim just hugs jason, uncaring of the blood and cries into his arms because its jason it worked!!! hes so happy.

tim is bigger now, but still small. jason's body is supposed to be 17. tim is 15 almost 16. jason still looks 15. tim says that'll be fixed easily. tim doesn't react to how jason has no heartbeat or need to breathe.

jason is somehow surprised and unsurprised that tim managed to bring him back to life using necromancy - well, some sort of life. he doesn't have a pulse but his body still craves sustenance of raw flesh.

tim now has to hide jason, his moms death (aka disappearance), make sure jason has enough to eat and a cool enough room to occupy. tim has been using his room as jasons room since the day he brought him home, occasionally sleeping with him in the bed whenever he craved comfort, while still being robin and keeping all of this from the bats.

#zombie au #death cw #cw death #jason todd wayne #jason todd deserves better #jason todd #dc #batman #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson

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monstersdownthepath · 1 year ago

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Monster Spotlight: Lorthact the Unraveler

CR 25

Lawful Evil Medium Outsider

Inner Sea Bestiary, pg. 26

Ah, Lorthact. Those who've joined in 2nd Edition and who go through a very particular high-level module have a very high chance of encountering this infernal noble, but by then the years of living among mortals and the collapse of his safety nets and plans haven't been kind to him, and he's fallen from an intimidating CR 25 all the way to CR 16. Don't feel too bad for him, though, the reason for his immense paranoid stress is entirely self-inflicted. See, in ages past, Lorthact was a beloved Duke of Hell, serving both Geryon and Mephistopheles loyally and even having the favor of Asmodeus himself for his skill in twisting mages into the service of Hell... But he made an awful mistake, one that cost him everything and continues to cost him to this day, hundreds of years later.

He tried to betray Eiseth, Queen of the Erinyes, and reduce her from demigod into a powerless consort at his side. Eiseth's temper is so legendary that even Asmodeus holds up his hands and backs away whenever she becomes enraged, her one-woman warpaths wreaking the same level of destruction that entire armies would struggle to replicate, so when she learned of the Unraveler's plot to usurp her, there was no chance in Hell for him to get out unscathed. No amount of lying and ass-kissing allowed Lorthact to appease her, and to his horror he found that his two Archdevil sponsors had turned their backs on him, neither of them wishing to risk Eiseth's apocalyptic ire. You would think a Duke of Hell would know that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but Lorthact had to learn the hard way.

He fled Hell entirely because there was no longer any safety from her wrath, and though Eiseth's minions search the globe over constantly for any sign of his presence, his cleverness has allowed him to remained undetected. Not unharmed, mind, because the constant stress does get to him, but he's thus far evaded the sight of his foes, mortal and immortal alike, and has time to regroup and begin to plot. Now living unseen on Golarion, he manipulates the population of the land of Korvosa, hoping to one day amass enough power, wealth, and minions to either slay Eiseth or convince Asmodeus to force her to stay her hand. Time will tell if he'll succeed, but for now let's see what happens when it's the players who try unraveling the Unraveler...

Now, Lorthact's ability to hide from Eiseth is no overblown background detail for the purpose of a story, this man is very hard to find, to the point that any campaign starring him will likely revolve around figuring out he's even there. He's got a constant Mind Blank to shield himself from any attempt to detect or track him, and Alter Self at will to physically transform into whoever he needs to be. In addition, he has a unique ability called Temporal Anomaly, rendering him immune to all forms of Divination regardless of their reach or power, whether it be from a spell or something more mundane. NO form of future sight or prescience works against Lorthact, and no divination effect or ability can be used to predict his movements, his actions, or what effects his actions may have. The man is a walking breach in the weave of Fate, his actions and their ripple effects all but impossible to determine without divine insight, making him a foe that goes beyond unpredictable. Not even Foresight or Moment of Prescience provide any benefit against him, and all his attacks and abilities ignore such powers outright.

So he can mundanely disguise himself and thwart all magical attempts to find him. Already good! If Lorthact were content with living a commoner's life, he'd likely be set for the rest of eternity... but no Duke of Hell would settle for anything less than total conquest. It's literally in their blood, and as such he's been able to masquerade as various masters of the arcane arts for decades, and will likely continue to do so, slowly warping the land of Korvosa to his twisted will through total control of all magic and magic users within the land. There's a reason one of his titles is "the Ur-Magus," though like every fascist Lorthact relies on others doing all the heavy lifting and actual creative effort so he can reap the rewards for himself.

Lorthact can use Dominate Person at-will and Dominate Monster 1/day, and has Mass Suggestion at-will to gently persuade everyone in a given room to ignore how suddenly dull and unresponsive his primary target has become. Once he's got someone Dominated, he exists as a parasite in their minds, able to draw upon their powers for his own benefit; he's got a Spell Reservoir of 25 levels in his body that he can fill with stolen spell energy. If he's touching a Dominated victim he can siphon a spell from their mind as a full-round action, and if they're not within reach but remain on the same plane, he can instead siphon it over the course of 1 minute via the magical connection from the Dominate spell. In either case the magic is expended as though the victim had cast the spell, and Lorthact keeps the energy within him until he sees fit to use it. As mentioned, he can only hold up to 25 levels worth of spells, and he may only drain one spell at a time from a given caster... But with unrestricted access to every student, scholar, and archmage within Korvosa's largest magical college, there's almost no spell outside his reach if the DM wills it, and though HE can't be detected via any means, he can use his 1/day Limited Wish or at-will Greater Scrying without restriction to learn the capabilities of any party mounting an attack against him and prepare himself accordingly.

There is some mercy with his Spell Reservoir: He can only drain Arcane spells. Divine and Psychic magic is beyond his reach, though he may still Dominate/Suggest to casters and command them to use the magic for him. Being able to cast seemingly any spell with a moment of meditation is already an impressive feat, but Lorthact can take faking being an omnidisciplinary mage even further with Scholastic Masquerade, an ability I originally overlooked because I had forgotten how powerful a lot of Wizard School Powers are. Just take a look for yourself! Scholastic Masquerade allows the Unraveler to drain School Powers from a Dominated victim in the same manner as his Spell Reservoir, including using up the available levels in his reservoir to power it; he can lower his reservoir by 3 to copy one of the School's 1st level powers, by 6 to copy both of them, and by 9 to copy all of them. While he's copying these powers the original host cannot use them at all, and Lorthact uses the powers with the same strength his host would; he may be a powerful archmage, but if he's parisitizing a 10th level Illusion Wizard, he can only use the School Powers as if he were 10th level.

How, exactly, this works with School Powers which grant feats is up to the DM; I believe he gains them temporarily... which means he almost always wants someone with the Counterspell school in his repertoire to make sure he's got Improved Counterspell AND a 1/day immediate action to utilize his at-will Greater Dispel Magic to thwart an enemy caster's magic. It may not sound very impressive, but never discount just how powerful an immediate action to say No to a player's entire turn can be, even at 1/day!

Other potential School Powers he may want to have in his pocket include Transmutation's passive additions to his physical ability scores (just in case), Enchantment's Enchanting Smile, and literally everything under the Divination school. Seriously, for the low cost of 3 points out of his Reservoir pool, he can remove the surprise round entirely and get anywhere from +1 to +20 to his Initiative rolls depending on the strength of the mage he parisitizes, and the Foresight Subschool's Prescience gives him a second chance at any one d20 roll he makes every round for at least 3 rounds! The initiative is pretty big, though; if Lorthact goes first, or even close to first, he's got a menagerie of annoying tricks beyond whatever he may be stealing from his victims that make fighting him a pain in the ass.

He has Greater Invisibility and Freedom of Movement both at-will and no reason to ever let either expire if he thinks he's going to enter combat, with one typically giving him the chance to use the other. I've already mentioned his Greater Dispel Magic at-will, but do you know what's better? He's got the Quickened version 3/day! He's also got two feats that play well with it: Dispel Synergy and Destructive Dispel, the former inflicting a -2 penalty on all saves for anyone he successfully shucks with any dispelling effect, the latter stunning the target for a round if they fail a second save and sickening them even if they succeed. The two effects stack, which means that even if you succeed your saving throw versus being stunned, you still effectively have a -4 penalty to all saves for a round... and since Lorthact can do a Quickened version, that means you're open to a standard action Dominate, his 3/day Polymorph Any Object or, if he's feeling nice, Empowered Horrid Wilting to blast you AND the party for 30d6 typeless damage. Fun fact: Empowered Horrid Wilting is technically a 10th level spell, and he's able to use it 3/day!

At these levels, a party is likely relying on buff spells to keep up with their higher-level foes, so suddenly having them... well, unraveled can be a bit of a downer. But do you want to know what's worse? Losing all your magic items as well. Yes, Lorthact has access to Mage's Disjunction, among the most terrifying spells that can be leveled at a player party for multiple reasons, chief among them being that Disjunction doesn't make a dispel roll, it simply ends any and all spell effects within its 40ft radius burst. This does mean Destructive Dispel doesn't trigger (no party-wide stun/sicken!), but Dispel Synergy does, and thus anyone with even a meager +1 buff to one stat gets slapped with the penalty. Secondly, and even worse, any and all magic items within the radius must make a save or be shut off for 25 minutes.

... I highly recommend making it a mass dispel only, not out of mercy to your players, but out of pragmatism. Unless you're using some automated digital sheets, having to make saving throws for every item on every player and then recalculating their stats based on which of their items shuts down is a god damn nightmare. If you want to make it less annoying, having it shut off 'active' powers like Flaming or abilities which need to be willingly activated by the user while leaving 'passive' ones like flat stat or skill bonuses in place is acceptable. But, hey, if you don't mind the 45 minute turn, then by all means go crazy with it!

And speaking of 45 minute research periods, did you know Lorthact has Greater Shadow Conjuration AND Greater Shadow Evocation at-will? That's every Conjuration spell that summons a creature or creates an object of 6th level or lower and EVERY Evocation spell of 7th level or lower entirely at his fingertips all the time, making deciding just what he's going to do on his turn require even MORE time than the average caster. Sure, summoning shadow minions to his side might not be especially powerful since players can likely kill them in a single hit, but summoning giant walls of various substances is always useful even if the illusion can be seen through. Evocation also gives him a hell of a toolbox with stars like Prismatic Spray, Sirocco, Forcecage, and Hungry Darkness which have powerful effects even IF the enemy sees through them (and relying on magical True Seeing is often difficult given how dispel-happy he is)!

Lorthact's typical battle plan is thus to stock up on whatever spells and abilities he thinks will make his time against the party easier, slap Spell Turning, Greater Invisibility, and Freedom of Movement on himself, use Limited Wish to whatever capacity he needs, throw out Disjunction or GDM a few times, and then--and only then--engage by slinging out whatever spells he's stolen or can conjure with his shadow magic from a position of relative safety. Given that he has Time Stop, all of this and more can happen in the blink of an eye even if the party does catch him off-guard, and don't you dare think that you can do the same to HIM. Remember Temporal Anomaly from a few paragraphs ago? There's an additional line of text in it: if anyone uses Time Stop while within 60ft of him, HE can also move in the stopped time. This essentially traps the poor caster in a 1v1, and if he's spiteful, he may just dash over (his movespeed says 30ft, but he comes equipped with Boots of Speed for Haste on-demand) and seal both himself and his dance partner inside his 1/day Prismatic Sphere so he can beat them to death in peace even when time resumes.

While he typically avoids melee, he's no slouch in it. He's got a pair of claw attacks for 1d6+6 damage, which is pathetic, but he's also got a god damn Staff of Power because his kit isn't loaded enough. That staff can act as a +2 quarterstaff that he can use four five (forgot his boots of speed) times a round for 1d6+11 damage each, which he's more than willing to enhance with either Power Attack (-9 accuracy for +18 damage Whoops! someone pointed out that it's actually +27!), the Staff of Power's ability to double its own damage for 1 round (to 2d6+22), or both (2d6+76), allowing him some absolutely monstrous burst damage if he manages a Full-Attack to dissuade victims from staying in his melee range. Every single attack, be it his claws or his staff, also inflicts 1 point of Intelligence drain just as a little cherry on top, and taking even 1 point of Int from his victim grants him Foresight against them. No stranger to dealing damage, he's also adept at avoiding it with 45 AC (+2 vs people he's Int drained), DR 20/Good and Silver, and 36 Spell Resistance, plus whatever insane preparations he's made with what's essentially a custom spell list.

Also, fun fact I recalled about halfway through this but forgot to find a place for, so I'm putting it here at the end: the Magus and Bloodrager are both Arcane casters, allowing Lorthact to steal spells from their list at a lower level than they would be on the Sorc/Wiz list to save him room in his Reservoir. Just one of many, many, many, many factors to take into account when engaging one of the greatest mages there ever was!

It may literally be easier to get in contact with Eiseth and let her know where he is, and deal with the fallout after.

You can read more about him here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 21-25 #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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thisapplepielife · 9 months ago

Text

Secret Santa

Written for the Second Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair.

Prompt: Office Party | Word Count: 6025 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ Only | Tags: Steddie, Steve POV, The Office AU, Office Setting, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Bathroom Sex, Mutual Assisted Masturbation, Holiday Party, Secret Santa, Background Jancy, Secret Relationship, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, Eddie & Gareth Friendship

Can also be read right here on Ao3.

This definitely has vibes borrowed from The Office. If you're familiar with that, you can picture Steve's desk as in the same location as Jim's.

Steve slumps behind his computer monitor at his desk, trying to make himself as small as possible. It's days like today that he really wishes their office had private cubicles instead of an open floor plan, because that'd actually give him somewhere to hide. As it is, with all of them out in the open, it means he's a sitting duck. No flimsy temporary wall to crouch down behind, no nothing at all between him and the horror that is lurking on the other side of the room.

And right now, he really wants somewhere to hide. But unless he wants to crawl under his desk, the room really doesn't offer much protection.

Honestly, he usually doesn't mind their setup at all. He likes the openness of it. He likes to see his coworkers all day. His friends. He likes to be able to talk, and yeah, to avoid work. He's nosy. He wants to see what insanity everyone else is up to every day. That always gives Robin and him things to gossip about later, and that's one of their favorite pastimes. He can look over at Robin behind the receptionist desk, and they can have long conversations with each other, using just their eyes.

They can talk about a cute new girl (or guy, if Steve's the one looking) that's been hired. They can bitch about stupid policy changes. Or a co-worker being a fool. Anything, everything.

But not today.

Today, Steve scoots down further in his chair, hoping that maybe he can make himself totally invisible, if he just wishes for it hard enough.

Because right this minute, Nancy's on the party planning warpath, and he wants no part of it. Party planning isn't anything he's ever been good at, well, beyond hosting a few laidback keggers as a teen, he supposes. Those all went as expected. But office parties? No way. That fact should be obvious to all of them after they forced him onto the party planning committee back in August, and his choices just made them all clutch their pearls.

Steve didn't know that even though there's a full list of silly, made-up holidays to choose from each month, apparently not all of those days are actually on the Nancy-approved list. Steve definitely didn't know that was an unspoken rule for the monthly morale party, so for August, he picked Work Like a Dog day, and convinced half of the office to show up in dog costumes.

Nancy Wheeler didn't find it funny. At all.

That's okay, Steve thinks it was hilarious.

If it wasn't actually an option for a party theme, then they shouldn't have put it on the goddamn list.

And what the fuck does it matter, anyway? Honestly. The monthly staff party is just an excuse to have cake, punch, and thirty minutes longer for lunch. Nobody really wants to attend these office parties, anyway. Might as well make them a little more unpredictable, a little more fun.

The theme can't possibly matter. It's all bullshit.

But now, here they are in December, and this is the annual holiday party they're talking about. Not a random monthly party. Oh no, this is the big one. The one that takes place after hours.

And to Nancy, and the rest of the party planning committee, it matters.

A lot.

So, Steve's hiding. Like a coward.

"You're such a coward," Steve hears from across his desk, a low, taunting hiss pointed in his direction.

He doesn't look in the direction of the voice, because he's smart enough to not fuck this up with any sudden movements. He's aiming for invisible, after all, but he can't resist slowly raising his hand, flipping Eddie off in slow motion.

Eddie laughs, so Steve knows the message landed, loud and clear, even if Steve never looked in his direction.

Fuck him for reading Steve's mind. Of course he's being a coward, but there's no reason to announce that fact. That's just rude.

Steve and Eddie share space, in their little group of desks. Steve sits on the end, and then there's two desks facing each other in front of him. Eddie is to his right, and it's really not so bad. Steve's had some weird fucking deskmates over the years, so much so, that having Eddie Munson at his side has been a breath of fresh air in comparison. A relief, even. Eddie's just loud, and messy.

Steve can handle loud and messy, even if Eddie's shit is apt to spill over onto Steve's desk most days, crowding him out of his own space. Steve can hold his client binder on his lap. That's no problem. Hell, he doesn't even get all that mad when Eddie gets too loud and gets them both disapproving looks. At least it's always fun while it's happening.

Gareth sits on the left, right across from Eddie, and right now he's slid down so far in his chair that he's practically under their desks, just like Steve. Smart kid, he's learning.

Steve dares to glance over and see what's happening across the room.

Nancy is leaning over Jonathan's desk, and Argyle is making faces behind her back. Nancy has eyes in the back of her head, so she definitely knows he's doing it, and Argyle is just asking for trouble. He's gonna get put on the party planning committee if he isn't careful. Which, Steve supposes, is a way better outcome than him getting recruited.

Nancy has her hand resting on Jonathan's shoulder as she talks to him, ignoring Argyle completely.

Steve isn't supposed to know that Jonathan and Nancy have been sneaking around the office, fucking in all the secluded corners of the warehouse, with far less stealth than they think they have. He doesn't blame them. He knows they don't want to go to HR and fill out the paperwork informing the company about their relationship.

Steve gets that. Because he also feels like it's none of the company's business who he fucks on his own time, and definitely wouldn't volunteer that information up willingly, either. None of them ever want to go deal with Murray for anything at all if they can help it. He asks far too many personal questions. It's always uncomfortable, and best to be avoided at all costs.

However, Steve thinks it's mighty funny that Nancy Wheeler, the rule-follower that she likes to pretend she is, is currently breaking them left and right. It honestly makes him like her even more.

And he does like her. Don't get him wrong, just not on party planning weeks. During those weeks, she's the enemy and must be wholly treated as such.

"Steve," Steve hears his name, a hushed whisper, and he turns to look at Robin sitting behind the reception desk.

He waves her off with a small hand movement. He needs to make sure Nancy has settled on haranguing Jonathan and Argyle before he dares to stick his neck out in the open.

Before Steve can say anything back to Robin, The Boss comes out of his office behind Steve's back, clapping his hands together for attention, and they all turn to look in his direction.

Bob Newby is kind of a goofball, and just a little bit doofy, but he's well-meaning. At least Steve's pretty sure he is. He doesn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. As far as bosses go, they could all do way worse.

"Hey there," Bob says, clapping his hands together again, "I told Nancy to make the holiday party this year a big one. A fun one. A special one. And to do that, Steve's gonna help her. Right, Steve?"

Well, Steve wants to strangle Bob, now. Well-meaning, his ass. He's not only mean, he's evil. He's a filthy traitor that Steve would feed to wolves given half a chance after this utter betrayal.

But Steve nods, because he's not actually gonna tell Bob no. It's not worth the pitiful face he'll get in return. Eddie is laughing, and if Steve gets the angle right, he's pretty sure he can kick Eddie in the shin under their desks without even looking.

He hits the mark and Eddie hisses at the blow, and Steve bites back a smile. Eddie had that coming, the asshole.

Then Steve has a better idea, a meaner idea, and he sits up straighter in his chair, and turns and looks right at Eddie, pointedly, "Yeah, and Eddie offered to help me!"

If looks could kill, he'd be dead, but Eddie gets what he deserves. If he wants to be a jerk, he can just help Steve out with planning this shitshow.

Bob is pleased at this though, and announces, "Great! Just don't pick anything scary, guys. I hate scary."

Steve grins, wide. That's a directive for Eddie, not him, and it amuses Steve greatly.

"Got it. Yeti and Krampus are out," Eddie says, with fake sincerity.

Chrissy squeals with delight that they are both actually willing to help with this party. Willing is definitely a stretch of the imagination, but Steve and Eddie both smile at her. She's sweet, and Steve knows Eddie will do anything she asks him to, because he's that wrapped around her little finger.

That's okay, Steve's just as wrapped around Robin's, if not more, so he can't really throw any stones in Eddie's direction about that.

Steve nods, and gives Chrissy a tight smile. They'll make this work. It looks like they have to, since they definitely lost this round of office politics.

Nancy is glaring in their direction, suspicious, "Well, fine. We'll just have to plan for every possible disaster with you two in charge."

"Hey! The dog party was a barking success," Steve yells at her, and she huffs and spins around away from him. Annoyed.

He smiles, and looks over at Eddie, and he's smiling back.

Maybe this won't be the end of the world after all.

Later, after the dust has settled, Steve leans on Robin's desk, looking down at her, disapproving. He's eating his lunch standing up at her desk, both of them sharing what they have, passing things back and forth.

Looking across the office, Steve can see into the break room, and Eddie is sitting at the closest table to the windows with Chrissy, both of them digging around in his metal lunchbox. They can leave for lunch, and sometimes they do, but most of the time they all just pack lunches and hang around. Sometimes, they'll all chip in and do a group order, running out to pick up burgers or pizza, but that takes advance planning, and that isn't exactly Steve's strong suit.

Eddie is digging around in his lunchbox, and Steve wonders what Eddie has packed in there today, pretzels, maybe a sand-

"Focus, dingus. I tried to warn you," Robin hisses, and his attention is drawn away from Eddie and his mystery lunch, when Robin taps her hand on the counter in front of him.

Steve turns to look back at her, glaring. She's his best friend, but right now, she's definitely the enemy as Bob's secretary. She could have stopped this if she'd wanted to, he's absolutely sure of it.

"You're on the party planning committee," he accuses, "and you have Bob's ear. Why didn't you make this go away for me?"

She wrings her hands, "I tried! Bob liked your dog party!"

Well, Steve has to laugh at that. That's what he gets for being smartass, he supposes. He tried to poke Nancy with a stick so he'd never have to have a turn at party planning ever again, and inadvertently just ended up coming across as a fun party planner to Bob.

Goddamnit. That was not the desired effect he'd been hoping for.

So, now he's stuck. And this is his own fault, it seems. But at least he took Eddie down with him. That's the silver-lining, for sure.

Steve will make it work. It's only a week of hell. He can survive a week.

"Trust me, we tried. None of us wanted you in charge again," Robin snaps.

"Hey!" Steve shouts back, offended, and she just laughs.

"Seriously. Nancy has standards, expectations, and dog parties aren't part of the playbook."

Steve smiles, "Well, I guess I should be left off any committees from now on."

"No such luck," Robin snarks, "but Nancy, Chrissy, Barb and I will definitely make sure whatever you two try to plan isn't dog party levels of weird."

"Gee, thanks. If you want to micromanage it, why don't you just do it yourselves? Wouldn't that just be easier for everyone involved?"

Robin shrugs, "Just make Bob happy. It's Christmas."

"Yeah, yeah," and Steve glances back, looking for Eddie again, and now he's sitting there playing finger football with Gareth as Chrissy watches. Both of them flicking a paper triangle back and forth across the break room table, trying to hit field goals through each other's finger goal posts.

That's about the extent of any sports that either one of them has ever played, Steve's pretty damn sure.

Gareth, the new kid, started a while back, and Eddie took to him immediately. Steve has tried not to be jealous. But it was hard. He still kind of wanted Eddie and his attention all to himself, as selfish as that sounds.

But he's had to learn to share, both Eddie and their desk space with Gareth, and he's watched as Eddie has tried hard to shape Gareth into a good salesman.

Robin's desk phone rings, and she picks it up, and he takes that as his cue to walk away. He heads towards the break room, and leans in the doorway, watching them play.

"I've got winner," Chrissy says, "but you can take on the winner of that match, if you want."

Steve nods and smiles, and walks on in, sliding into the only remaining chair left at the table.

When four-thirty rolls around, Bob comes over and sends Steve and Eddie off to start planning this party they are now in charge of together. At least they get a half-hour of paid nonsense time, Steve guesses.

So, now they sit in the empty meeting room at the long table, and just look at each other.

Finally, Eddie breaks the silence.

"Okay, smart guy, what's your big plan this time? Cat party?" Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow, challenging Steve.

"Yep. Pussy party," Steve says, deadpan, and Eddie tosses his head back and laughs, hair flying.

Work has definitely been more entertaining since Eddie Munson showed up last year, all long-hair and lackadaisical attitude. Eddie doesn't conform to any sort of standard expectations, won't, but he can sell like a motherfucker. He has a silvertongue that Steve only wishes he possessed. Steve can sell, too. But he has to lean heavily on being earnest. That's his angle.

But it's not Eddie's. No, Eddie can just bullshit his way through sales with anyone on the fly, easily meeting his quota and walking away with a damn good commission check every payday, and that hardly seems fair. Steve's been here forever, but Eddie took to it so much quicker.

"Pussy hats for everyone, and the party favors? Pocket pussies," Eddie states, still exploring this party idea with a shit-eating grin, and it makes Steve giggle.

If only.

Though, this still might be fun to plan together, even if that can't actually be the theme. Nancy would murder them both.

They better do something safe, like Secret Santa. Bob always likes that, and this is really for him more than it is the staff, Steve's pretty damn sure.

They can just go traditional, make everyone happy and save themselves a lot of grief.

That doesn't mean they won't sit here and bullshit, like they are really talking this thing through in great detail.

"Secret Santa? That's the theme?" Robin asks later, clearly disappointed.

"Classic. Easy peasy," Steve says, leaning on the tall counter that runs around her desk. He's waiting for her to finish up so they can leave together.

Tonight, they're all going to happy hour at Chili's. They do that from time to time. Most of the office meeting up after work to drink and let loose.

"Lazy, uninspired," she taunts, and he reaches out like he's going to flick her ear, but she dodges his hand, laughing. "Bob's gonna be disappointed in you."

"He won't. He'll love it," Steve says, and Robin knows it. She's just being difficult. "Will you make up the slips so we can draw names, or not?" he asks, trying to give her the eyes. They don't really work on her, not anymore. But he still tries.

"Fine, but this is not fun. I was expecting dog party levels of unhinged theming from you both. You disappoint me."

"You love me," Steve counters.

"Of course I do, dingus. Now leave me alone so I can finish up and we can get the fuck out of here."

He presses his hands together, bowing to her, just a little, and then heads back to his desk. Eddie is still on the phone, wheeling and dealing, like a pro.

Making money, even after hours.

Asshole.

Gareth is sitting at their desks, watching Eddie with wide eyes.

"He's good, right?" Steve asks, and Gareth nods. "It's okay if it's hard to make sales, especially at first. It's hard for all of us, except Eddie. But he's a freak."

Eddie hears him, and sticks his tongue out, not missing a beat of his phone call.

"You'll get better. I promise," Steve says, turning to look at Gareth.

Gareth nods again, and Steve smiles. Steve was probably not that much younger than him when he started working here, and it looks so young now, seeing it on Gareth. He never thought he'd still be here, all these years later.

But he's made friends here, good friends. His best friend. If he never worked here, he'd never have met Robin, and that'd be a goddamn tragedy.

And he met Eddie, so honestly, he doesn't have too many complaints.

Turns out, Nancy loves the Secret Santa theme, which Steve isn't surprised about. It's right up her alley. Normal, basic, a classic. No dog costumes to be found.

"What's the price limit?" she asks, holding her notepad in hand, and Steve looks at her. Is he supposed to decide that? He feels like that's a job for her, or maybe even Bob.

"Twenty-five dollars?" he offers, and she thinks about it for a minute, then nods, writing it in her notes, apparently agreeing with his assessment.

Great.

"And, is it a traditional Secret Santa where we draw names, or a white elephant situation?"

"Um, traditional?" he hazards a guess and she nods, happy. Apparently that was the right answer, again. He's on a roll today. Hot damn. Maybe he needs to buy a lottery ticket.

Steve sits at the high top table at Chili's, sharing an Awesome Blossom with Robin and drinking his third margarita. Eddie didn't show up. Steve is pretty sure he said he was coming, but now Eddie, Gareth, Chrissy, Jeff and Goodie are all no-shows.

That's okay.

But he would have gone home instead of coming himself if he knew Eddie was bailing. Not that he isn't enjoying spending time with Robin and everyone else, he is, but still.

He raises his finger, ordering one more drink. Robin's definitely gonna have to drive him home.

The next morning, Nancy drops off a list of party vendors for him to call, and Steve pushes it towards Eddie. He's the one with phone magic.

And Steve's a little hungover. Eddie's not.

Not to mention Steve's still a little mad at Eddie for deciding to skip happy hour without telling him.

"Hey, don't be pushing your chores off on me," Eddie says, pushing it back across the desk in Steve's direction.

They both push on the paper, in a stalemate, wrinkling it under their fingers.

Steve gives him the eyes, "C'mon. You know you'll have better luck. We'll get an awesome cake, and a great meat and cheese plate if you call. You know it."

"Which is ironic, because if the little old ladies working could see me, and then see you, it'd be you they'd be falling over themselves to please," Eddie says.

Steve rolls his eyes. Little old ladies love Eddie, at least after they look past his clothes and hair. He's too charming for them to not love him. He's got a chivalry that is innate, and Steve doesn't have that at all. He likes to think he's nice, but he's not as charismatic. The Harrington Charm is a different beast than whatever Eddie has going on, that's for damn sure.

Eventually, Eddie takes the paper, and picks up the handset of his phone, and starts dialing the first number, and Steve just grins, pleased.

He listens, and tries to ignore the dull headache that's plagued him all morning.

When Eddie hangs up the phone, he looks at Steve, "Shoulda came to Poor Richard's with us, like you said you would, and then you wouldn't have a hangover from all that chain restaurant cheap well tequila."

Steve glowers at him. They've been over this fifty times. Nobody said they were going to Poor Richard's last night. It was Chili's, and the fact that everyone else showed up at Chili's except for Eddie and his friends, is all the proof Steve needs.

Eddie didn't listen, and they ended up at different bars.

But Steve forgives him as he keeps making calls, and before long they have everything in order for next week's party.

And a week later, they all sit around in a circle of chairs like they're kindergarteners, which feels foolish. But Bob is clearly having fun, dressed in his full Santa suit, as he pulls the wrapped packages out of the bag and passes them around to their rightful owners.

It's fine. Lots of generic gift boxes. Hot cocoa samplers. Summer sausage and cheese gift sets. Blankets, mugs, candy. A foot bath. Just stuff. More things that nobody really needed, Steve's sure, but it makes Bob happy, so they all at least pretend to be excited about whatever they've gotten.

They all thank their Secret Santa, and it's all very normal. Boring. So boring.

But Steve has a plan for later that he thinks won't be quite as boring as this has been.

The gifts all opened, Steve holds open the plastic trash bag as Eddie picks up the wrapping paper off the chairs, the floor. Tidying up while the rest of the committee goes and starts getting the bar set up.

Steve isn't sure how Bob swung it, but they actually get to serve alcohol this year.

Jeff and Goodie volunteered to play bartender, and that's great with Steve. He was sure he'd get stuck doing it, with Eddie's help if he was lucky. But this is better. Way better. They'll be able to just enjoy themselves.

As soon as it's up and running, Steve and Eddie are first in line for a drink. Steve goes easy on them, but Eddie's trying to order things they definitely don't have the supplies for. The budget was limited and they decided to stick to the most popular basics.

Goodie listens to Eddie lists off his third try at an elaborate drink order, and then just pours Eddie a Jack and Coke.

"Just what I wanted," Eddie says, picking it up with a snarky grin.

They're a few drinks in, and the music has been turned up, when Steve nods towards Eddie, ready to slip away during the confusion. Steve shakes a wrapped gift in his hand, and Eddie quirks an eyebrow, curious, and follows him out into the hallway. They ride the elevator up one floor in silence, and then Steve leads Eddie into the empty bathroom on the floor right above their office space.

They can hear the thumpa thumpa of the music down below, feel it vibrating beneath their feet. Gareth and Argyle have teamed up to play DJ, and Steve is sure Nancy hates the music choices. They definitely aren't playing classic Christmas tunes, that's for damn sure.

Steve pushes the wrapped gift into Eddie's chest, and Eddie sits his drink down on the sink.

"What is this?" Eddie asks, looking down at the gift in his hands. He wasn't expecting it, clearly.

"Well, I didn't draw your name for the official Secret Santa, but I still wanted you to have your party favor," Steve says, trying to keep a straight face. This is a ridiculous thing to do. Especially at work. "Open it."

He watches while Eddie tears off the wrapping paper, throwing it onto the bathroom floor, and then Eddie's looking down at the fleshlight he's holding in his hands.

And he promptly blushes a deep crimson.

Holy shit.

Steve had no idea that Eddie could blush. Maybe this wasn't a great idea. Maybe he's about to lose his job for sexual harassment at work. At Christmas, no less.

Then, Eddie laughs. Loud and amused, eyes lighting up.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, I guess," Eddie says, turning over the toy in his hands, walking into the open stall. Steve follows.

"Not a sex toy guy?" Steve asks, crowding a little closer to him.

"Not a pussy guy," Eddie answers, then laughs, "I thought you knew that, Steve."

Yeah, Steve knew that. But he pretends he didn't.

"Oh no, do they make pocket assholes? Maybe we could exchange it, get you what you really like," Steve teases.

And Eddie grins, dimples showing, as he presses the toy back into Steve's chest, and Steve takes it.

"This one is just my favorite, and I thought you might like it," Steve says, looking Eddie right in the eye, standing nearly nose-to-nose in the cramped bathroom stall.

And Eddie is looking back at him, with an expression Steve can't really read. It looks like he's maybe surprised Steve is cool. Which is crazy. Steve's cool. Steve's been fucking guys since he was in college, girls even earlier than that. He's not really all that fussed about it. Boys, girls, both at the same time, once.

That was an interesting night, to be sure. Not one he expects to repeat anytime soon, but it's definitely an experience he's glad he had.

Steve holds the toy in his hand, studying it carefully, and then he looks up into Eddie's eyes.

"You wanna try it?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Now?" Eddie asks, dropping his voice low, sounding shocked at this suggestion.

Steve shrugs, and Eddie eventually nods, slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that," Eddie says, putting both of his hands on Steve's arms, squeezing.

"Are you sure you want to do this here? I was just kidding," Steve asks, even if he wasn't, not really. But he still wants to make sure this is something Eddie is actually interested in doing with him, here and now, and not something he's pushing onto him like a big, fucking creep.

Eddie nods and smiles, so Steve presses him back against the wall of the bathroom stall, Steve's palm firm on Eddie's shoulder. He hands the fleshlight back to Eddie, and digs a packet of lube out of his pocket, handing that over, too.

Steve reaches for Eddie belt, his zipper, and carefully, slowly, undoes his pants. Pulling them down over his ass, boxers going down with them, and then he's just looking. Staring. Wanting.

Eddie's already drizzled lube into the opening of the fake silicone pussy, so Steve takes it from him. Steve doesn't touch Eddie's dick, although it's straining, red and flushed at the tip, begging for Steve's undivided attention.

And as much as Steve wants to give it that attention, wants to drop to his knees, throw the toy aside and suck Eddie's dick, he doesn't.

Instead, Steve grips the pocket pussy in his hand, and angles it, lining it up as best he can. He nods at Eddie, and holds it steady as Eddie pushes into it. Unsure at first, but after a few test thrusts, Steve feels the pressure, the force, behind the snap of Eddie's hips with every thrust. And Steve thinks about what it'd be like if it was him Eddie was pushing his dick into, instead of this toy.

His own dick is hard, so fucking hard, just watching this happen. He can't tear his eyes away. He watches Eddie's dick go in and out.

Eddie groans, leaning forward and resting his forehead on Steve's shoulder, still moving his hips. Still fucking, still pushing his cock into the toy in Steve's hand. Again, and again.

Steve can't see now, but he can feel it. Can hear it.

It's noisy and loud, making a filthy, wet, squelching sound that sounds even more scandalous as they're hidden away in a public bathroom. Like they might get caught any second, doing this devious thing together.

Eddie winds his arms around Steve's back, and holds on tight. The action brings them even closer together, which is making it harder for Steve to maneuver his hand and the toy between their bodies, but Steve will make it work. He keeps a good grip on the fleshlight, making sure Eddie can keep moving his hips, keep pushing his dick into it, over and over again, even as he leans his weight on Steve.

"That pussy feel good?" Steve whispers, pressing his face into Eddie's hair. He smells good, and Steve leans into him.

Eddie whimpers, and nods against Steve's shirt, and Steve twists his hand, just a little, and Eddie moans.

"All pretty and pink, wet, begging for your cock," Steve whispers. "It's a pretty cock, you've got. You know that?"

He just yammering, and he's pretty sure Eddie isn't even listening. That's okay, Steve's happy to do the heavy lifting here.

"I bet it feels good. All tight, hugging your dick the whole way down.. Are you pretending it's a girl?" Steve asks, then lowers his voice, right next to Eddie's ear, "Or are you pretending it's me?"

Eddie's hips stutter, and then he pushes harder against Steve's hand.

"Steve," Eddie breathes out, and Steve smiles.

"I'd bend right over for you," Steve says, "beg you to push your cock in me."

Steve can tell by the change in Eddie's breathing that he's getting close to coming. Goddamn. That's a pretty sight and sound.

Steve's own dick is straining in his pants, wanting.

"Would you come inside me?" Steve asks, and that's it. Eddie groans, and pushes his dick into the toy as far as he can, coming. Steve presses his face in Eddie's hair, kissing the side of his head.

Eddie pulls back from Steve's body, and then slides his dick out of the toy with a sloppy, wet sound, and they both laugh. Steve looks down at Eddie's heavy cock, spent and wet, and wants. Wants to put his mouth on Eddie, wants to lick him clean.

He thinks he will, but Eddie interrupts his thoughts.

"You want sloppy seconds?" Eddie asks, and Steve nearly comes in his pants as he nods.

That's not something he had thought of, but he hands the toy to Eddie, and reaches for his own zipper. He pulls his neglected dick out, palms it, strokes it. It's so hard. Eddie's made him so fucking hard, so horny, he can't even think straight.

"Look at you, big boy," Eddie says, and he doesn't keep his hands to himself. He strokes Steve once, twice, and then helps guide him into the used toy.

It's still kind of warm inside, sloppy and wet with Eddie's come, and Steve feels like a deviant, but doesn't really give a fuck. Not really.

Because this is good.

So goddamn good.

Eddie presses his mouth to Steve's, and they kiss while Steve thrusts into the toy in Eddie's hand, and it's one of the dirtiest things he's ever done in his whole life.

Steve's just getting into a nice rhythm, when Eddie takes the toy away, and replaces it with his mouth. Goddamn, that's better. That's so much better.

Eddie pulls off, and looks up at him, "You taste like me."

Steve groans, letting his head fall back against the metal wall of the stall, closing his eyes as Eddie sucks his dick, then slides it back into the fleshlight, alternating. Dragging this out, extending it, and it's beyond anything he could have ever dreamed up.

He had a small idea, a basic one, and Eddie has taken that and crafted it into a fucking experience of a lifetime.

Steve tangles his hands in Eddie's hair, and looks down to meet Eddie's eyes, as he continues to work his cock, over and over.

"You gonna come in my mouth or in the pussy?" Eddie asks, hand stroking Steve's dick lazily, looking up at him for an answer. He wants both. How can he choose?

But if he doesn't choose, he's gonna come in Eddie's hand. Still good, but a distant third among the options available.

"Your mouth," Steve finally says.

"Good choice, Harrington," Eddie answers, and slides his mouth over Steve's dick again, and again, until Steve can't hold out any longer.

He comes right against Eddie tongue, and Eddie pulls off, looks up at him, and swallows.

Merry Fucking Christmas to him. Jesus.

They straighten their clothes, try to smooth out all the wrinkles, and Eddie takes a gulp of his now watered down whiskey sitting on the bathroom counter, swishing it in his mouth, and spitting into the sink.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Steve asks, holding the wet and freshly washed fleshlight in his hand.

"Take it home. Use it later and think of me," Eddie says, holding out the box Steve had wrapped it in.

Steve puts it back, and takes the box from Eddie's hands.

He'll do just that.

Eddie pushes him against the bathroom door, and kisses him again, and this is the best night of Steve's life, he's pretty goddamn sure.

They ride the elevator down, and when they're back in their own office, Steve shoves the now unwrapped box into his desk drawer and follows Eddie back towards the rest of their partying co-workers.

Their friends.

Eddie starts bouncing on his feet, dancing with Chrissy and Steve smiles as he watches. Everybody seems to be having fun, and Steve decides this was a success.

Later that night, long after the party had winded down, Steve crawls into bed at home, and curls into Eddie's side.

"Have fun tonight?" Steve asks, and Eddie runs his hand up and down Steve's arm.

"Yeah, I especially liked the part where my boyfriend acted like we've never fucked before," Eddie says, throwing his leg over Steve's hip.

"Very funny."

Eddie laughs, "We're gonna have to file our relationship with HR sooner or later. I'm pretty sure my poker face is horrendous, and they're gonna figure it out."

Steve nods. He knows. Though, he's pretty fucking everyone in the office knows already, anyway. Gareth clocked them his first week, not realizing it was a secret. So, it's obvious. Eddie loves him, and Eddie can't hide that look on his face, not at all. It makes Steve so fucking happy that Eddie feels that way about him, like he loves him so much that he can't pretend he doesn't.

That they love each other this much.

So, they're gonna have to fess up. That's okay, he doesn't actually give a shit. They aren't gonna fire him, and they definitely aren't gonna fire Eddie. He's unorthodox, but he brings in tons of cash and clients.

And they're just co-workers, there's nothing saying they can't be together.

"I can't believe you wrapped your pocket pussy and dragged it to work," Eddie laughs, burying his nose in Steve's hair.

Steve grins.

"Surprised you, though?" Steve asks, turning his head, to smile at Eddie.

"Definitely surprised me," Eddie answers, grinning right back.

Notes: Nancy seem familiar? Yeah, she was definitely inspired by Angela from The Office, with that party planning committee vibe, lol. I needed someone to be that character, and Nancy seemed more likely than Robin or Chrissy. And the "prepare for every possible disaster" line is a Angela-ism, from the S2 ep, as told by Ryan. I like to think Dwight, or a Dwight-like character, was Steve's deskmate before Eddie.

And Nancy and Jonathan's whole secret (Dwight and Angela style) relationship random mention was added just so I could accurately tag secret relationship, but that it might slip past that I was also referring to Steve and Eddie, lol. Could you have known they were together before Steve did the sex toy thing? For sure. Was it more fun for me to imagine, just for a second, that he was just being very forward and inappropriate with co-worker Eddie who wasn't expecting it? Of course.

Work Like a Dog day is August 5th if you want to add to your calendar, lol.

Bob! ❤️ I think this might be the first time I've had a place to use him in a fic.

Chili's and Poor Richard's were both shout-outs to The Office, many thanks to them for lending me their set-up for this fic. As soon as I chose this prompt, The Office, was the first idea in my head.

And trying to pin down the exact year this is set in made my head hurt. It must be, like, 1999. Then fleshlights exist, but cell phones aren't glued to our hands quite yet. But pussy hats are much more modern. But then Awesome Blossoms are discontinued. I don't know. It's an alternate universe. Go with it. 🤣

Thanks for reading! ❤️

#SpicySixWinterFanworksChallenge #steddie #steddie ficlet #the office au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #christmas fic #holiday party #secret santa #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: spicy six

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juiceyobsessionist · 10 months ago

Text

My first contribution to this fandom is this six page essay i wrote on gloxinias morality for ethics class.

More under the cut

Gloxinia of Repose is a character from the Netflix show The Seven Deadly Sins, and ultimately one of the more interesting characters within the show. Gloxinia’s morality is a warped and twisted version of consequentialism. Gloxinia serves as a minor antagonist through the series, though in the end he ends up as something akin to a ‘hero’. However, due to the nicheness of the show itself, some background information is vital to understanding Gloxinia’s complexly twisted morality.

The setting of The Seven Deadly Sins is a vaguely medieval time period, with a fantasy genre. Gloxinia is part of a gang labeled The Ten Commandments whose goal is to take over the land of Britannia. Opposing The Ten Commandments is a group called The Seven Deadly Sins.

It’s a rather simple ‘good versus evil’ fight, with The Ten Commandments generally having some twisted morality and a dislike for most of the other races.

However, Gloxinia was something of an odd character. He was not outright bloodthirsty. He was sadistic and childishly cruel, yes. He seemed to prioritize fun over actually doing his job properly, and was willing to put on a big performance rather than fighting with all his might. Most notably, Gloxinia had a particularly pessimistic view of the world and seemed to have some sort of grudge against humans. He even went so far as to call them a “Vial repugnant race”. To add to this, he also was shown to be rather lazy and self centered. The only person he was actively nice to was his friend Drole. Every other person who allied with the humans, he attempted to kill in the most fun way possible and was shown to get rather annoyed when people strayed from his little ‘game’.

Then, he did a quick switch up. He stopped being awful after he helped to kill his ex friend, Meliodas. All through the fight scene with Meliodas, Gloxinia could be seen actively feeling bad. This scene is extremely important, because it proves that Gloxinia is not sociopathic. He does have some sort of twisted morality behind him.

Then, after that, he switches and decides to help out The Seven Deadly Sins, giving Harlequin and Diane a large portion of his own power to do so. He discovers his dead sister was still alive, and ends up sacrificing himself in order to let The Sins escape from the demon Chandler, and to attempt to make up for all of his wrong doings. He ends up dying rather quickly, but he seems content with his choices, as he did die with a smile on his face.

Through all of this, he also has his friend Drole right by his side. The two even end up dying together. Drole and his sister were his favorite people, and Gloxinia was not ever shy in showing that. He would heal Drole with a very limited healing ability, and the loss of his sister incited a 3,000 year long mental breakdown. This mental breakdown is where his crueler persona developed, and it’s what caused Gloxinia to join The Ten Commandments to begin with.

Yet, despite his clear adoration for his friends, he did not extend the same kindness to Meliodas. He actively helped kill Meliodas, and while Gloxinia clearly felt bad for Meliodas that did not stop his horrible actions. So the question is: Why? Why was Gloxinia willing to pick and choose which of his friends he killed off? Why was he willing to heal Drole, and go on a warpath for his sister Gerheade, yet he could not even find it in himself to spare his other friend? They all seemed just as close from the few interactions we saw. So what on Earth made Gloxinia willing to pick and choose between his friends? Well, the answer is simple. Gloxinia is a consequentialist, and he believed killing Meliodas was for the greater good.

According to Russ Shafer, author of The Fundamentals of Ethics, fifth edition, “If you have a choice between two options and the first is less good than the second, then the first can’t possibly be right.” This is a good way to sum up the entire thought process of consequentialism. The whole moral theory is based upon doing whatever good possible (Shafer-Landau). It is about minimizing damage and picking the best option from the wreckage, even in a bad situation (Shafer-Landau).

However, consequentialism is not without its issues. It is a rather easy morality to sway if you have the wrong ideals. As put by Alvin I. Goldman, author of RELIABILISM, VERITISM, AND EPISTEMIC CONSEQUENTIALISM, “Consider Judith Thomson's (1976) example of a transplant surgeon who encounters a patient during a routine check-up and decides to chop him up, take his organs, and transplant them in five other patients, each in need of one of those organs. From a teleological point of view, this action is good, perhaps even right. Greater overall happiness will be promoted by this action than by simply attending to the original patient and letting those in need of organ transplants die (Goldman).” As Goldman puts it in this quotation, prioritizing the needs of the many is not always necessarily ethical.

Now, this relates to Gloxinia and his moralities quite easily. He felt Meliodas was a threat. Meliodas had been branded a traitor to the demon race and The Ten Commandments were supposed to kill Meliodas and free the rest of the demon race from the seal.

Gloxinia had always been the type to weigh his options carefully. To try and choose the least harmful path, or the path that did the most good, as consequentialists tend to do. It is important to note that after being betrayed by a group of humans, Gloxinia saw humans as evil at this point. This is absolutely integral to his character, and the choices he makes. He chooses to try and kill Meliodas, one of his oldest and only friends, because Meliodas sided with the humans.

To Gloxinia, killing off all of the evil humans who tried to kill his sister was a good thing. Humans were a disgusting race which he despised. It only made sense for him to try for genocide. Meliodas was an obstacle to him at that point, and Gloxinia, in the truest consequentialist fashion, chose to help kill Meliodas. Gloxinia was clearly not happy about it, indicating that this decision was not one chosen lightly. This was something that made him consider his own moralities, and ultimately choose to attempt to do something that felt less wrong to him. Which is where helping Harlequin and Diane came into play.

He ended up helping them figure out how to be more powerful, while also informing them on the events that led the demon race to be sealed to begin with, as well as the events that led him to ultimately become a Commandment.

It would be a crime to speak on all of this, and leave out the most important event of Gloxinia’s life. An event that he based his entire morality off of, and the one that led Gloxinia to being a Commandment. His sister's death.

This whole event happened because he trusted a group of humans. The humans ended up betraying him and cutting off his sister's legs, her eye, and half of her wings. One human defected from the group and tried to save Gerheade, but Gloxinia spotted the human holding what he assumed was her mangled corpse and murdered the human. Then, Gloxinia went on to continue killing humans. As many as he could find. Zeldris found him and offered to let him join The Ten Commandments.

This was the greatest showing of his consequentialist nature showing through. To Gloxinia, killing off humans was for the greater good. The action may not have been fun, but it was something that had to be done. Or the humans may go around doing the same to others. While Gloxinia certainly did have fun with it, he still was doing it willingly.

What Gloxinia experiences when he changes sides and decides to kill humans is actually referred to as moral disengagement. Which, according to Helet Botha, author of Existentialist Perspectives on the Problem and Prevention of Moral Disengagement is “ Moral disengagement was originally conceived of as a psychological process—a set of cognitive mechanisms—whereby an individual becomes capable of dissociating with their internal moral standards and thus behaving unethically without feeling distress (see also Newman et al., 2020) (Botha).” This is how Gloxinia was able to do such a quick switch from liking humans to hating them.

Some people may attempt to argue that his morality could possibly be psychological egoism. A good way to sum it up is by Di Carlo Emiliano, author of Antecedents of Deviant Behavior: Psychological and Non-Psychological Factors and Ethical Justifications, “According to the homo economicus assumption, the human being is a self-serving individual only interested in maximizing its utility function (Jensen & Meckling, 1976) (Carlo Emiliano).” In other words, humans are selfish. They put themselves first, for better or worse. And considering how Gloxinia attempts to commit genocide against humans due to his own trauma, it may certainly see that way.

There’s no denying that everything Gloxinia did was tinged with a bit of selfishness. He killed, he separated families. Broke apart entire generations all because he decided he hated something. His sister turned out to be alive after all, and he apparently just left her there. He certainly thought she was dead, but that does not change the fact that it was selfish. Not only that, but a lot of Gloxinia’s dialogue would lead you to believe that he truely and genuinely believes that all humans are selfish. And he absolutely does. Which is why he goes out and kills the humans he’s killed.

“Is it appropriate to sacrifice one person to save many?” Is the question asked by Yoshiyuki Takimoto, author of Verification of the Japanese Version of Greene’s Moral Dilemma Task’s Validity and Reliability. This question is a great example of consequentialism, and Gloxinia’s overall mortality. He is willing to sacrifice one person to save many. And in the end, he sacrificed himself to try and slow down the demon Chandler. He lost and died. It was his way of bringing good out of all of the bad he had caused. The ultimate sacrifice.

So, with all of this being said, it’s quite clear that Gloxinia of Repose from the Netflix show The Seven Deadly Sins had a consequentialist morality. He constantly weighed the pros and cons of his own actions, was deliberate in the way he approached things, and consistently did his best to try and bring true goodness. Even though it was a very flawed and scary stance to take- genocide just really isn’t the correct answer for most problems. He still took this stance with the idea that what he was doing was absolutely and entirely good. And in the end, in an attempt to make things right, he sacrificed his own life. He died for his morality, his viewpoints, and to protect the very friends he tried to kill.

Bibliography

Shafer-Landau, R. (n.d.). The Fundamentals of Ethics (5th ed.). Oxford University Press.

Goldman, A. I. (2015). RELIABILISM, VERITISM, AND EPISTEMIC CONSEQUENTIALISM. Episteme,

.10th Anniversary of Episteme, 12(2), 131-143.

https://doi.org/10.1017/epi.2015.25

Di, C. E. (2022). Antecedents of Deviant Behavior: Psychological and Non-Psychological Factors and Ethical Justifications. Employee Responsibilities and Rights Journal, 34(2), 169-191. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10672-021-09387-x

Takimoto, Y., & Yasumura, A. (2023). Verification of the Japanese Version of Greene’s Moral Dilemma Task’s Validity and Reliability. Psych, 5(1), 224. https://doi.org/10.3390/psych5010017

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