#and he was like “if you can find enough material to talk for 15 minutes then sure”

[dragonwysper]

No I need to make a fucking post about this because I just stumbled on this paper, and this is insane.

Going to be talking about and sharing images of various insects. You have been notified.

So y'all know fleas. The little parasitic insects.

Yeah. Those guys.

Well. This study did genetic analysis on fleas (and several other insects) to find out what these guys derive from. Because up to this point, fleas have been just these weird little things in their own order that are... somewhere??? in the Antliophora clade. Previous scientists have thought maybe they're some weird offshoot of Diptera (true flies), because they do actually have vestigial little wing casings.

But this study, and the genetic analysis they did, revealed that fleas are not especially similar to Diptera. They're actually most similar to Mecoptera. Scorpionflies.

That's right. These guys.

Which is completely and utterly insane to me. You're telling me these big, super unique and specialized, weird-ass bugs, somewhere down the line, created an offshoot of these tiny little insects that lose their wings in favor of hopping around, that parasitize vertebrates and feed on blood? Scorpionflies did that??

Idk this is just. So so interesting to me. The Big wide beautiful world of entomology.

Here's that study. I think you'll have to make an account on the site in order to read it (though I can also just send any interested folks the file I downloaded, since I successfully made an account), but it is SO fascinating.

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[unquietspiritao3]

hecklers welcome vinyl review and thoughts on how the heck james did this

excessive and spoilery comedy-nerd thoughts on the hecklers welcome vinyl/kettering recording below the cut!

James was not lying when he said this recording was of a very chaotic gig. The amount of heckling got so out of hand, he had to give up on his planned material in the end. Which I was expecting going into it, because I'd seen someone on tumblr who was at the Kettering show saying the same thing. If I hadn't had that warning, though, and if I didn't have my own bootleg recording of the NYC show I went to, I might've been disappointed at just how little of the actual material made it onto this vinyl.

All that said, I'm glad I have this recording, because one of the things I love most about comedy is dissecting how it works! And thanks to my relatively-heckle-free show, I didn't really get to see how James was managing his concept for the tour without totally losing control of the audience. The vinyl definitely gave me a lot of fascinating insight there.

I've only listened all the way through once, so these are just initial thoughts. I'll probably find other things when I listen again and again in the future. Also, most of this is me guessing things. I know from a friend who was at the RHLSTP live recording James did a few weeks ago that he talked more about his process for the tour there, and I'm looking forward to hearing if any of my speculation is confirmed when the podcast drops.

The main thing that stood out is that James seems to have jokes/bits that are reserved specifically for getting the audience back on course. If you were at a more well-behaved show, you might not have heard them!

To wit: In the planned material, very close to the beginning, he explains that he doesn’t like doing standup comedy and that he’s had a pattern of getting angry at his audience. He tells a story of a particular gig early in his career where he didn’t handle a heckler well. Then it’s supposed to be sort of a record-scratch-‘you’re-probably-wondering-how-I-got-here’ thing for the rest of the show, with lots of stories from his childhood and such.

The important part to understand is he establishes the ‘I hate my job’ concept early enough that hopefully there are no heckles to derail it, so he can count on being able to do callbacks to that material at any point. This was demonstrated about 15 minutes into the Kettering show, when he went from managing a heckler, to doing a bit about a list of reminders/affirmations he keeps on his phone and reads through before each gig. I didn't get to hear this bit at all in NYC! And it was a delightful additional insight into James’ psyche and very funny, so I’m so glad it made it onto the vinyl.

I’ll share what he revealed of the list in a separate post instead of burying it in a bunch of meta. For my purposes here, the only thing to know is the last item: ‘you don’t have to keep on doing this if you don’t want to.’ To which he added, ‘I could run out here and play the drums’, and immediately started playing the child-size drum set he has on stage. And once he was done playing, he went straight into more of the material I'd heard at my show.

So that's the other half of the ‘get the gig back on track’ strategy I didn't see until now. In NYC, he went over to the drums or the tetherball set occasionally, but it wasn’t even acknowledged in his material. He'd go over, play, then continue with the next bit. But in this ‘list’ routine, he uses the drums very specifically to sort of reset the show. He goes from dealing with a heckler, to doing a joke he can stick in anywhere as needed, to playing the drums, to picking up roughly where he should be in the actual sequence of the material.

I imagine the drum solo also gives him a pause where he doesn’t need to talk and can think through how he might have to cut or rearrange things to manage his timing. Not that it mattered in the end for the Kettering gig, but I can see how it would work quite well when half the audience isn’t unruly teenage boys, haha.

So interesting!

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 ao3

Steve is the one to re-discover the tapes when they’re packing up, left in a haphazard pile on the bedside cabinet. There’s a clack of plastic against wood, and Eddie glances over to see that Steve, in reaching for his file, has scattered the cassettes, made them furl out like a fan on the cabinet.

“Oh,” Steve says. He just looks at the tapes for a couple of seconds. Blinks. “Are these Robin’s?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie doesn’t ask how he knows that—he gets the picture that when it comes to Steve and Robin, there’ll always be an implicit understanding between them.

Steve grabs a pen, winds back any of the tapes that need it, those stopped either just before or just after My Little Town.

What made it yours? Eddie doesn’t ask. Why that one?

He thinks of when he first heard the song, that ghostly, unreal feeling; the hope at Steve’s minute reaction to the sound. Not knowing what to do with the loneliness he heard in it.

“Here’s yours,” Eddie says, reaching over. His fingers drum over the cassette holder, indicating the worn sleeve; when he says, “Guessing this one’s well-loved, huh?”, it’s not supposed to mean anything, really. Just something light enough for Steve to smile at.

But Steve doesn’t reply for a moment. He turns the tape over and over in his hands, like he’s looking at some distant artefact instead of something that belongs to him. Then his shoulder raises in a half-shrug; his face does something too complicated and quick for Eddie to catch. Something between a smile and a wince—not quite one or the other.

“It was my mom’s first,” Steve says.

-

Robin arrives like a whirlwind as Steve’s getting discharged—if a whirlwind can be an at all reassuring presence, which right now is absolutely the case.

“Hey, look who’s decided to come crawling back,” Steve says when he sees her, grinning.

She slaps him on the shoulder. “Stop, Steve, Dad’s been a total—”

“Yeah, yeah, I—”

“—nightmare and, yeah, I get it, coming back home from a lovely Spring Break—”

“Rob, I was kidding!”

“—to find that oh, there’s kinda been a, uh, cataclysmic event might make anyone a teensy bit uneasy—”

“Holy shit.”

“—but, seriously, I was practically on house arrest! He only let me go ‘cause it’s you, and he thinks the sun shines out your—”

“Aw,” Steve says, sugary sweet, “told you I’m good with parents.”

“Gross,” Robin fires back. “Absolutely disgusting, never speak to me again.”

“Can we go already? Wayne needs the car back some time this year,” Eddie says.

But his annoyance is transparently fake: the whole time Robin and Steve have been talking, they’ve all pretty much seamlessly crossed the parking lot—the self-conscious air that had been following Steve around as he used his crutches vanishing completely in the face of Robin’s banter.

Steve and Robin sit in the back, Robin taking the crutches and basically contorting her body around them so Steve can get more space.

“Radio on, Eddie!” Robin says, then imperiously calls out the frequency. “Make it snappy.”

“Demanding, isn’t she?” Steve says, and when Eddie looks over his shoulder at him, Steve winks.

“If Her Majesty decrees it,” Eddie says.

He turns the radio on, fiddles with the dial until he reaches the right station—can feel Robin drumming the back of the driver’s seat in anticipation.

“Yeah, this one!”

They tune in just in time to hear the first chorus of Material Girl.

Steve starts to giggle. “R-Robin did you phone in and ask—”

“You can prove nothing. Maybe the stars aligned and thought, hey, we might as well—”

“Sure.”

“—because the universe was so impressed by the Harrington choreography—”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“Fucking children,” Eddie says through a smirk, and as he pulls out of the parking lot, he glances up to the mirror, catches Robin and Steve dissolving into twin peals of laughter.

-

Steve’s house is full, and it makes the whole space feel different; where previously the high ceilings would make every little sound echo within the emptiness, now it’s full of noise rebounding—there’s constant movement, people coming and going, the kids barging their way around the kitchen and living room, or lounging in the hallway. It all makes the house seem smaller. Warmer.

By some sort of unspoken agreement, no-one crowds Steve, and the clamour means that his arrival doesn’t draw undue attention, means that he can just slip through the front door and take as long as he needs. Eddie can see that he’s grateful for it, sees him take a deep breath of relief as he crosses the threshold.

Hopper’s in the kitchen on a flying visit; he stays long enough to show Steve that there’s casserole in the freezer, claps him on the shoulder, then heads off with a muttered, “Gotta… damn paperwork,” which Eddie suspects is either a lie, or a complete understatement. Or both.

Steve surveys the contents of the freezer, smiles at a box of Eggos, then fully laughs when he pries open a tub of ice-cream and finds a sizeable dent in it—shakes his head and says fondly, “Erica.”

Robin shepherds them both to the TV, gently but firmly insists that Steve take up one couch to himself, his leg elevated on cushions. Eddie and Robin sprawl together on the other couch, but then Robin’s scrabbling upright, crawling to a cabinet that houses VHS tapes—and there’s the collection, multiple rows of movie musicals.

“Oh, Steve, Steve, this one first, please.”

She turns back with a copy of Oliver! in her hands.

“Yeah, whatever,” Steve says—and it’s not dismissive. Eddie gets the impression that Robin could’ve said any movie in the world and Steve wouldn’t have cared, so long as he had her company.

Robin gasps in mock affront. “Um, excuse me, Shani Wallis’s performance as Nancy is not whatever.”

Steve groans, looks up at the ceiling. “Why do I feel like there’s history there?”

“Uh, Drama Club did it one year, right?” Eddie asks. He vaguely remembers being roped in to paint sets, never wanting to look at cobblestones ever again.

“Yeah,” Robin sighs dreamily. “I tried for Nancy.”

“Really? That’s cool,” Steve says. “Did you get it?”

Robin hesitates. “Nope.”

“Damn. Who did?”

“Um, can’t remember,” Robin says too quickly.

Eddie frowns in thought. “Wasn’t it…? Oh, yeah!” He clicks his fingers. “It was Tammy Thompson.”

And for some reason, this makes Steve cackle. Robin throws a pillow at him, which doesn’t land anywhere near his cast, but Steve groans like he’s received a fatal hit.

“Man down, man down!”

The movie mostly passes with stupid back-and-forths like that. Robin pauses at multiple points to enthuse about Nancy’s red dress and how gorgeous it is, in a tone of voice that means she isn’t just talking about the dress; and the way Steve responds with a soft smile somehow makes Eddie think that he, too, understands what she’s really saying, which… huh.

Steve soon creates a running joke which consists of pointing at any random extra in the movie, gasping and exclaiming, “Eddie, I didn’t know you were in this!”

“You’re not fucking funny, Harrington,” Eddie says. Any snark he might’ve once held is completely ruined by the grin that, without fail, appears on his face every damn time Steve makes the joke.

When the credits roll, Eddie gets up to put on another movie—finds Grease and makes a passing quip about Steve’s hair again. 

When he’s getting the tape out, he hears a soft movement, turns back to find Robin’s slid off her couch to sit by Steve’s, grabs onto his wrist suddenly.

Steve sighs. Smiles, a kind of sad edge to the corners. “I’m… I’m sorry, Robin.”

“Shut up,” Robin says quietly. “Not accepted ‘cause it’s not needed, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says eventually. As the opening number begins, he adds in an undertone, squeezing Robin’s hand, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Robin whispers back.

Eddie keeps quiet, going back to his seat and giving them space. He knows it’s fine to joke again when Robin announces suddenly, “Hey, we’re leaving Eddie out!” And she blows him an air kiss with a delightfully obnoxious mwah.

Eddie mimes catching it and throwing it over his shoulder nonchalantly. Robin gasps again.

When Steve snorts, Eddie pats his jeans pocket with a comically wide-eyed look, like how did it end up in there? Blows the kiss back and winks—ostensibly to the pair of them.

But he knows that’s not entirely true.

-

As dusk approaches, Eddie waits outside with Robin for her ride home to materialise—she’d asked him to go with her, and he agreed without knowing the reason behind the request.

But now he’s starting to regret it as he sees the glow of headlights approach the driveway. He hurriedly gives Robin her tapes, then steps back reflexively into the shadows.

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says. “You know, my parents… they didn’t see the news before they came back.”

Eddie can’t help it; he raises an eyebrow dubiously. “They’ll have seen some of it by now, Buckley.”

She shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But I also… they got, like, an edited version of… events. From me.”

“Edited,” Eddie echoes faintly.

Robin nods. “Super edited. I told them… they know the important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re innocent,” Robin says, low and serious.

Eddie takes another step back. “And I’m sure they believed you.”

“They did, actually,” Robin says, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s not like I gave them a choice.”

“…What?”

“Well, I… might’ve said that if they accepted any of the rumours about you, then I’d walk out. Permanently.”

Eddie stares at her. “Wh—why would you—”

“You’re my friend,” Robin says emphatically.

Eddie’s spared from answering by the sound of a car horn. He flinches.

But when Robin looks over to the car, she doesn’t look worried—instead, she claps a hand to her forehead, gripping her tapes with the other.

“Shoot, I forgot—stay right there.”

She runs over to the car, opens the passenger door one-handed and dumps the tapes. Eddie squints in the glare of the headlights, makes out what must be Robin’s mom in the driver’s seat. They have the same nose.

And then Robin’s running back, a gift bag swinging from her hands. As she gets closer, he sees that the bag is adorned with Happy Birthday written in looping purple and pink font.

“Sorry, it’s—the store only had the one kinda bag, and—if you hate them, it’s fine, I just thought, for when you and your uncle get a new place…”

There’s two mugs in the gift bag, with the most awful neon polka dots. Eddie adores them.

He hugs Robin in reply, and she must get that words are hard, because she pats his back a couple of times, then just holds him.

When the car pulls away, she waves enthusiastically—and he spots when her mom mirrors her wave, just for a moment.

He stands there alone, pretends like he’s not crying on Steve Harrington’s driveway.

-

He puts the gift bag on the counter, finds Steve swallowing his night-time pills with some water. It’s just the two of them now—or at least, it is for five minutes, until they hear the front door opening.

“I’m staying over!” Dustin bellows.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You gotta stop breaking and entering, dude.”

“Not breaking and entering when I use the spare key, Steve.”

“Hey, you’re off your crutches!” Eddie says as Dustin walks into view—there’s only a little bit of hesitancy to his gait now.

“Yeah, we swapped,” Steve says. He yawns, settles back on the couch and nods at Dustin. “You know where the blankets are, right?”

Dustin nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Think the guest bedroom’s made up if—”

“I was just gonna sleep down here,” Dustin says—and Eddie can tell from the studiously casual way he says it, that he just doesn’t want to be too far away from Steve.

Steve nods like he’s only half-heard him, tries to hide a yawn behind the back of his hand. “Sure, knock yourself out.”

It’s not that late, so they put on another movie musical, Eddie running a finger down the titles until Steve randomly says, “Stop.”

Dustin gets full use of the second couch after Eddie’s insistence on the matter; he might be off crutches, but Eddie reasons that the kid should stretch his legs out, at least.

Besides, the floor’s comfortable enough, even more so when Eddie leans his back against Steve’s couch, feels the warmth of his body heat.

They’ve hardly started the movie, Dick Van Dyke singing about, “Someone to strive for, do or die for,” when Eddie feels Steve’s hand clumsily graze his shoulder.

He turns. “All good?” he asks, keeps his voice low—Dustin doesn’t seem to hear.

“Yeah, just feel…” Steve sniffs, rubs at his face. “Kinda… heavy.”

Eddie watches over him sympathetically, thinks of Steve admitting, “It messed with me for a while, after. There was—that winter, I had to get a tooth taken out, and I didn’t want them to use numbing, because it felt a bit like…”

“You’re okay,” Eddie says gently. “It’s just the meds.” He lifts Steve’s hand, guides him until Steve is loosely holding onto Eddie’s wrist. “See? You’re right here. Not going anywhere.”

Steve breathes in deep. Exhales. “Think ‘m… m’sleepy.”

“S’all good,” Eddie says. “I got you.”

He doesn’t notice that Dustin’s looking over at them until Steve’s head tilts into the inside of the couch, fingers slack but warm around Eddie’s wrist.

“What?” Eddie mouths.

Dustin shrugs. “Glad you’re here,” he says eventually, then returns his attention to the movie.

[chayanne18]

Don’t talk back

GENRE // dom!enhypen x virgin!reader

WARNINGS // smut, oral, unprotected sex (GET READY BABY)

Part 1

You just moved into your step brothers apartment, getting out of your parents house was not easy, but working at the library got you enough for a plane ticket to go and see Jake again, he was the only good thing that your mums last marriage gave you, Jake was so kind and nice to you that he made all the fighting and screaming at home disappear, but when he had to leave to college you were left alone.

When you told him you needed a place in Seoul to stay it didn’t take much time for him to suggest you to come to his apartment, you were a bit off at first since he shares it with three other men, and you were a bit shy with strangers, especially of the opposite gender.

But after a couple minutes you decided it was the best option you had, and now two months later here you are, at your brother’s doorstep waiting for him to open. 

But for your surprise it was someone else who opened it “Heey you must be y/n, Jake is in the shower, he told me to show you around” the tall man said to you in a very excited tone, you decide to go inside and follow him as he said, “You can leave your bags in Sunghoon’s bed, he is out of the country for work so you can stay in his room until he gets back” he said with a big smile, after leaving your things you go with him to the kitchen where you find a very wet and half naked Jake who just got out of the shower.

You were not gonna lie, he was fine, he fas very much fine, the thought of having an affair with your step brother wasn’t something new, he was always so good to you that he became the center of your wet dreams for a while, plus you technically were not related so it wasn’t that bad. But you knew he saw you as a little sister, even though he was just a year older than you he always acted like a big bro and showed no interest in doing anything sexually related with you.

But keeping in mind that the last time he saw your face you were 15, his thoughts may have changed a bit seeing how beautiful you looked right now all grown up with your extremely long black hair, your cute round glasses and that tiny mini skirt you were wearing, thinking of how easy it must be slipping his hands under it and explore you fully. But then again you were his sister, so he had to excuse himself quickly before you realized the huge boner he was hiding under that towel.

You were left speechless, what did just happen, why did he leave like that without even saying hi and most important why tf was he looking at you that way.

You look at the boy next to you perplexed at what just happened, he awkwardly smiles at you “i- umm..dinner?” you quickly nod your head and you both start making some pasta.

While the water is boiling you decide to go and take a shower since you still haven’t had time to wash yourself after the flight and you know….tourist class…

The boy who you later found out he was named Jungwon tells you to use the bathroom next to that sunghoon guy’s room since there are spare towels there.

While you are showering you start hearing voices but you just guess that jungwon and jake must be talking in the livingroom and they are speaking too loud, you stop the water and just when you are ready to get out someone walks in, someone walks in and you start hearing noises, a belt, clothes falling into the ground, you stay still….you don’t know what to do, if they know you are in the shower why would they come inside without even knocking??

“i’m so tired of love songs tired of love son..” he starts singing “just wanna go home wan…” he starts the water without noticing you

next

material list

[vodika-vibes]

I‘m sorry for requesting yet again buuuuut I find myself in desperate need for some spicy Mereel content after the wonderful things you wrote for him, I think at this point your single-handedly fueling my obession with him 😅 sooo to get to the point, maybe Mereel is always teasing the reader and making spicy innuendos and at one point the reader just snaps and tells him to put his money where his mouth is and then he does? If this makes you uncomfortable or anything feel free to ignore this 🙈

thank you 🥰🥰

Challenge

Summary: Mereel is able to talk a good game, but you want him to prove that he can actually follow through on his promises.

Pairing: Mereel Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 1156

Warnings: Smut. ish. Smut Adjacent?

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: Feel free to request as much as you like! I'll always get to it eventually! And I suppose someone has to write the Skirata boys, so it might as well be me, lol.

Divider by Saradika

Mereel is always around you. Which is impressive seeing as the Republic is at war, and you’re pretty sure that he has a job to do. But no. It seems like he’s always there.

Sometimes he makes little quips that are just suggestive enough that you aren’t sure if he meant it like it sounds, or if you just have a filthy mind.

Other times he’s touching you. His hand on your shoulder, on your lower back, on your hip, on the back of your neck. Nothing inappropriate, and yet his touch burns like fire.

But you can ignore it. You have ignored it. For months now.

Ironically, if you hadn’t ignored it, you likely wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

It starts innocently enough. Or, well, as innocently as Mereel could be.

He makes a comment, something just slightly suggestive and slightly off color, and instead of ignoring it, like you normally do, you shoot back a quip that is just as suggestive.

And then the conversation turns, his voice lowers and his gaze becomes heated, and you’re helpless to do anything but match his intensity. So he moves closer to you, until his leg is pressed against yours and he’s whispering his jokes into your ear.

It is, frankly, overwhelming. 

But you’ve always been stubborn, so you dig your heels in and you give as good as you get, even if your face is burning.

And then he drags his gaze down your body, as though he’s mentally undressing you. And you decide enough is enough. It’s time for Mereel to put his money where his mouth is, so to speak.

So you flash him a flirty little smile, and pretend not to notice the way his gaze locks on your lips or the way lust flares in his eyes, “You spend so much time flirting with me,” You coo as you lean in so your lips are brushing his ear, “You’ve proven you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk, darling?”

You drag your lips down his jaw to his neck, and press a slow, lingering, kiss against his pulse point. And Mereel releases a shaky exhale and you notice his fingers flexing against the rough material of the couch.

You move your lips back to his ear, “I’m going to my room now, you have…oh…an hour. If you don’t show up in that time, then I’m going to assume you’re not interested, and I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

His breath hitches, and you smile and press a hot kiss just beneath his ear, and then you pull away and saunter your way out of the room.

20 minutes. You give him 20 minutes to realize that the offer is serious. 20 minutes to get himself into gear. 20 minutes to get himself into your room. Time enough for you to get ready.

After all, there’s no doubt in your mind that Mereel will take you up on your offer.

You mistime things just a little, as 15 minutes after you shut your bedroom door, and just after you pull on your shimmersilk robe and tie it securely around your waist, there’s a knock on the door.

You open the door and smile at Mereel. His gaze is heated, but he keeps his gaze locked with yours. “If your offer is serious, then I want to take you up on it.”

Your smile morphs into a smug little grin as you move to the side to allow him into your room. You manage to get the door shut, and locked, before he’s on you.

His kiss is hard and demanding, but his hands are gentle as they slide over your robe. Your back bumps into the door as he presses you firmly against it.

Mereel pulls away enough to untie your robe, and when it falls open, he stops, his jaw slightly slack.

The robe was part of a set. And the lingerie that came with it was a set you’ve never worn before, far too luxurious to justify wearing to work. It’s blue and silver, and is very strappy and left very little to the imagination.

Mereel reverently pushes your robe to the floor, his gaze locked on the lingerie. His fingers are feather light as they trail over the delicate silver stitching, “Cyare,” His voice is surprisingly rough, “You look…” He trails off for a moment as his fingers find your nipple and he lightly pinches it, pulling a quiet moan from you.

He roughly pulls you away from the door and pushes you back onto the bed, “Two questions, cyare.” Mereel murmurs as he strips off his top, “First, do you wear stuff like that under your clothes all the time, because if you do I’m never going to get any work done ever.”

You flash a coy smile, “Maybe I don’t wear anything until my uniform.”

Mereel stops and he groans low and deep, “Babe. Holy shit, why would you tell me that?”

You grin at him innocently as you try to sit up, only to get pushed back down by gentle fingers, “It seems like something you should know.” And then you pout at him, “Let me touch you.”

“In a bit.” Your pout becomes a little more pronounced, and his gaze is sharp as he looks over you, “If you don’t behave, cyare,” Mereel says slowly, as if testing the waters, “I’ll have to tie you up.”

Your lips part slightly, and your face flushes, “Oh.”

And a laugh slips from Mereel, “Holy fuck, baby. You want me to tie you up, don’t you?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, “Maybe next time. After we can talk about the important shit.”

“Next time?” You breathe out.

“Next time.” Mereel promises, “Right. My second question. How much does this set cost and do I need to be careful with it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You reply immediately.

He hums thoughtfully, “I’m going to make you cum with you still wearing that,” Mereel says slowly, as he crawls on the bed over you, catching you wrists in one large hand and pinning them over your head, “And then I’m going to undress you and I’ll make you cum again. And again.” His grin is sly, “How many orgasms is too many, do you think?”

“I…”

“Five? Six?”

You stare up at him, slightly breathless, “I don’t think you can do it,” You challenge, as you lift your chin defiantly.

“Oh,” Mereel coos, his eyes glittering with delight, “It’s a promise, baby.” He leans in and kisses you gently, “For now, we’re going to use colors. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.”

“Okay,” You whisper.

Mereel smiles at you then, soft and sweet, “What’s your color, cyare?”

“Green.” You whisper, “Very, very, very green.”

His soft smile becomes a grin, “Good. Because I’m about to ruin you, baby.”

[ciaossu-imagines]

Could you do answer the questions to prompt seven for HOMRA?

C

Of course I can! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons 😊

Send me a fandom and I will name a character… 

Who I will protect at all costs

Okay, but I think I’ve answered this enough so that everyone knows my answer here. It’s Eric, for all the reasons I’ve already stated when talking about him previously – I just connect with him hard and want so much good for him.

Who deserves better

It’s really hard to narrow this down. All of HOMRA are, to some extent, underdogs. They’ve all had some real hard bumps and experiences in their life that they just didn’t deserve. Mikoto didn’t ask to be the next Red King, he has troubles connecting with others, he feels alone in a lot of ways. Totsuka was physically weaker than others and I think it’s shown that he was kind of bullied a little or maybe that’s just so ingrained in my personal headcanons before he got in with Mikoto and Kusanagi. Kusanagi puts a lot of pressure on his own shoulders and he often gets involved in a lot of shit because he loves his friends but I also see him as not really fitting here because he’s the most well-adjusted, in my mind. Anna’s past is tragic. Yata has his whole complicated thing with struggling to find a place for him and Fushimi to belong, then the whole friendship deteriorating with Fushimi. Kamamoto was bullied because he was the fat kid and is still bullied about that, especially by Yata. Shouhei struggled, I think, in middle and high school to find his identity, fell in with a bad crowd, and on top of that, he can be too selfless for his own good, which I do think leaves him a little vulnerable to cleaning up other people’s messes for them. Bandou has that wicked inferiority complex. Chitose has the whole thing with his ex-girlfriend. Dewa has Chitose. Eric’s whole past is tragic. Fuji is the only other one, besides Kusanagi, that I don’t really see fitting here but even then, he’s not really very ambitious, didn’t do well in school, and a lot of people look down on him. In their own ways, all of them deserved a little better but I really wouldn’t have wanted them to have got better because then we wouldn’t have gotten the amazing characters we did get.

Who was killed off too early

Hmm, I wonder what my answer is going to be here? It’s not like there was a character who, when the anime came out, was introduced posthumously. Not at all…sarcasm aside, of fucking course it’s Totsuka. We really only get properly introduced to who he is as a person, his bonds with the others, how he acted and what his life was like in the additional material that came out either alongside or after the anime. I really would have liked to see, before the anime’s first season came out, MOR and DOB come out as teasers, even Lost Small World and Stray Dog. Make each chapter into a half-length episode, 10-15 minutes a piece and introduce us to the character’s and groups properly. Get us interested with and attached to these characters before the reveal of Totsuka’s death and then move us into the first season proper. To me, it would have been a smarter and more effective method of story telling and probably would have made the show into something that really would have become very much a cult classic favourite, especially if the animation budget was kind of boosted just a little bit.

Who I used to hate but now I love

There wasn’t really any members of HOMRA that I really plain out hated from the offset or something, but I was largely neutral about the ABC boys when I watched the first season. They didn’t stick out in my head and I wasn’t as in love with them as I am now. It was only after reading MOR that they all became my absolute favourites within HOMRA.

Who I used to love but now I hate

I think I’ve mentioned this before but Mikoto was my absolute favourite in the first couple episodes. My lord, he was hot, his power was cool, I loved his voice, everything about him was amazing. He was my favourite HOMRA member and I was all in on him. While I still really enjoy him, quite a bit in fact, he’s no longer my favourite HOMRA member. In fact, he’s pretty far down on the list, though I should clarify that I like every single member of HOMRA.

Who needs to be killed off asap

I really don’t think HOMRA needs any more of its members to die. I think they’ve experienced enough of that, thank you.

Who is unfairly hated

KAMAMOTO!!!! I practice Kamamoto love on this blog and hope it spreads much further and much more pronounced within the fandom. I think that, because he doesn’t fit the stereotype the other boys do – bishie, badass anime boy – he just isn’t as seen and appreciated. He’s fat (because he likes to be), he sports facial hair, he has a horrible sense of style, but he’s still this fantastic character – he’s supportive, loyal, he can have genuinely funny moments, he’s generous, he’s true to himself – and I personally don’t think he’s all that physically unattractive…well, besides the, like I said, AWFUL fashion sense.

Who is unfairly loved

I won’t say it’s completely unfair. I see the appeal of the character, though he has never ever been among my favourites but I do think that Yata fits the best here. I’m taking not only the fandom in mind here but also thinks this applies within the show itself. Even forgetting the other supporting characters, like the ABC boys and Kamamoto, Yata gets such a huge emphasis in the show that I find there are definitely points within the story where it feels like the author’s have decided it’s not K PROJECT anymore but instead it’s the Yata story. He eclipsed, at points, the characters who were supposed to be the main focus, like Mikoto. Within fandom, I think a large part of why he’s so loved lies within the ship of him and Fushimi and yeah, I get the appeal of the characters and the ship, I get the appeal of Yata as a character for those who have OCs or self-ships for him, but I just think he’s kind of overrated.

Who needs to sort out their priorities

The writers? The creators? I know that’s outside of the scope of HOMRA though, so trying to focus on just that group. When I do that, I really can’t come up with an answer though. Part of what I love about this group is that they don’t always focus on the right things, they’re messy, they get into trouble, they don’t have their shit all straightened out. There’s a couple exceptions, of course, but a large part of the appeal of HOMRA, to me, is that they feel real and most real people don’t have their priorities completely straightened out all of the time.

Who needs a hug

Every single damn one of them? HOMRA did not have a good time of it in any of the canon materials. Even in MOR, we see so many moments that are rough on them. These boys, every single one of them, needs a big hug followed by a self-care day with massages, pampering, plus whatever makes them individually happy, followed by a veritable feast for supper and the world’s best night of sleep – I’m talking like a solid ten hours of deep sleep with the sweetest of dreams.

Who needs to get out of their current relationship

Again, while I can think of some answers here, I am going to have to go with nobody. The complicated, sometimes messy, bonds between all these boys (and Anna) or with them and the people in the world around them are a large part of what drives the story and makes it so good!

Who the writers love

Yata, for the reasons written above, and, going along with that, Fushimi. Again, there’s just sooooo goddamn emphasis placed on these two, to the point where, in some episodes and especially in some additional material, I really do think the authors really didn’t want to tell the story of K PROJECT but wanted to tell the Yata and Fushimi stories or plain out would have preferred to make a BL anime based around these two.

Who needs a better storyline

Totsuka and Mikoto. I can still very much behind having them die. I think it makes sense narrative-wise. I think it’s a great decision and one I would still keep if I were personally writing the story. In some ways, both of their deaths were needed and inevitable. What I have issues with is, like pointed out above, Totsuka really needed more introduction before the anime proper – he needed something to make the audience genuinely care about him, outside of them just thinking he’s a cute anime boy or being curious about what his relationship with everyone was like. MOR is what really brought about, in my mind, the storyline Totsuka needed and I still wish it came out earlier. Mikoto is such a fascinating character. I get that some of his appeal comes from him being mysterious, but I do wish more focus was given, especially within the anime’s first season, on really fleshing him out, giving us more of a peek inside of his mind and personality.

Who has an amazing redemption arc

I guess Eric and Shouhei are really the only ones I can think of who fit here at all. Between the two of them though, Eric had the better redemption arc. He went there to kill Mikoto and instead ended up becoming one of HOMRA and it was a beautifully done little story.

Who is hot af

All of them. HOMRA is a gang of very attractive men and let’s not lie – that’s part of why we love them. They’re also varied enough, in their looks, their designs, their fashion sense, their personalities, that there’s a HOMRA boy for everyone’s taste.

Who belongs in jail

Chitose can go to horny jail, in my opinion, any time he talks about Anna and how she’ll grow up into a looker. I remember that comment, though I don’t think it was worded quite like that, and visibly and noticeably flinching away from my screen because just…fucking yikes and gross, my dude.

Who needs to be revived from the dead

Nobody. If someone was revived from the dead, it would kind of defeat the purpose and impact of the deaths within the show. However, if I have to choose, I’m going to cheat by not using HOMRA proper but the Red Clan and say it’s Genji Kagutsu, just because I’m curious about him.

[saynomorefic]

Hey June 💜,

15, 30 and 40 for the OTP asks

Helloo Sophia! Tysm for the ask <3 hope ur enjoying ur weekend 🌾

This is just for fun and my opinions!!

15. The first to cry during movies that don't seem sad

I think we saw Wille cry / display his emotions more openly, so I think the obvious choice here is Wille. However, I think at a certain point in their relationship, Simon lets his walls down enough to cry at the littler things, which Wille doesn't always think are very sad at all. (He denies it, of course, and Wille plays along - maybe it's like their little secret).

30. Pet names, yes or no?

I do see them calling each other Älskling quite a lot, so I think they definitely use pet names. I'm unfamiliar with the most common ones for couples in Swedish, but I'd like to think that in addition to Älskling, they have unique ones for each other. This is just personal preference but to me pet names (like baby talk) are fairly cringe until you get into a relationship, and then you find yourself stuck in it. So yeah, I think that's them.

40. Who is the skilled shopper / who waits for the last minute to get gifts / who gets more stressed out?

They both get stressed but for different reasons. Y'all may disagree with me on this but Wille seems like a planner. I believe he's always thinking about what he's going to get Simon for the next big event, and counts down the days until he can give it, which can make him anxious - what if it's not the right color, or fit, or Simon will complain it was too expensive, etc. I also think he loves surprising Simon but has a hard time being patient. I see Simon struggling more with gift giving because Wille kind of has everything he wants / needs from a material standpoint - we even saw him struggle with Wille's birthday present in canon in s3. I think he overthinks it and has resorted to either homemade / sentimental gifts or making plans for them to do something together, like go to the aquarium, attend art classes, take a holiday somewhere new, etc.

And when it comes to the holidays and getting gifts for other people, let's face it, these two are equally a mess.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (16)

Seventeen, part of Book II: Mind (see previous or series)

Summary: Samantha adjusts to life as a half-Extremis patient. Tony confesses something he forgot to the Guardians.

Warnings for medical discomfort after self-experimentation, terrible jokes from the Guardians. Rated Teen/Mature so 15+ only, please.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN—November 2038

It was a good thing Sam was used to being alone since Bucky did not return to see her the next day or the day after that. Sam had adjusted the wig as best she could to go find some food and coffee, but it quickly became obvious that the food she did find did not agree with her. Nothing stopped the vibrating itch radiating all over; her body simply couldn’t regulate her temperature or eliminate enough waste without sweating. She began siphoning off some resources from the med lab to create an IV and a simple liquified meal to have once a day. Sam refused to give up the coffee though and even grew to like the strong tea offered as well. Eventually, due to decay in her muscles plus a serious loss of her subcutaneous fatty layer, she had to submerge herself in a nutrient bath, the basis of which she derived from Missy’s research on a failed cure attempt for Uncle Bruce and the Hulk. 

Sam knew this was only a temporary solution to a slow-moving problem, but she had no plans to waste time on a small fix for the cosmetic breakthrough. She became very good at placing an IV and amused herself by drinking her bizarre and unappetizing smoothies while thinking of the similar sludges her father used to consume.

She continued to roll the lump of vibranium in her palm over and over until a project occurred to her. Sam set Mistress on the task of finding her information, and to her surprise, she hit the jackpot. It no longer mattered that no one talked to her or visited; she was back to tinkering.

“Missy, I need you to filter the nutrient bath. Do you have that file on Vision’s cradle body? How much vibranium did it require? What percentage was metal and what was organic material?”

“I’ve compiled a summary for you, Sam. Beginning filtering: estimated time twelve minutes.”

“How refined can we make this?” Sam tossed the metal ball back and forth between hands. “Small enough to infuse tissue? What about the cradle? Can it graft this into tissue?”

“Calculating,” Missy replied.

“Pull up Sam Wilson’s file from headquarters. I wanna read their updates.”

The documents popped up beside dozens of other processes running on her monitor. Missy continued her summary. “Cognitive function has leveled out after the initial rise in activity. Several anomalous instances of memory loss have been recorded.”

“Alright, keep me posted.”

“Ms. Stark,” her AI returned to formality, “the results of your scans following each submergence show no change—”

“That’s enough,” Sam stopped Missy. She looked around her plain lower-level room. Sam had replaced the bed with a makeshift regeneration cradle capable of holding the nutrient gel. Every drawer in the room contained bits of hardware, scraps of vibranium, and research. Empty coffee cups filled the trash. She washed her three outfits in the bathroom sink. She kept the wig combed but rarely needed it; Sam almost never spoke to anyone, and no one really spoke to her.

“Alright, Missy, let’s test a square inch of skin and record the time the machine takes and the regeneration rate of my skin. Then we’ll test the area for deterioration in either tissue or structural integrity of the metal.”

“Sampling suggests minimal damage to either once the graft takes effect,” Missy chirped, almost sounding proud. “However, for live sampling, I suggest the nutrient bath immediately after the procedure.”

“Sounds good, Missy. Go ahead and get the cradle ready for the patch test.” Sam could hardly contain her excitement, but she shook more from nerves than happiness. The joy would have to come when she was successful, and not a moment before because until then Sam was just another pale nerd tucked in a basement thinking herself the smartest person on Earth. If this does work, she thought, happy birthday to me indeed…

December 6th in the depths of space with an enormous putz like Drax the Annoyer was brutal. It was difficult to tell what time it was on Earth, and genuinely Tony did not know for sure that it was the 6th yet or if the day had already passed. He just wanted to have a thought to himself; he wasn’t allowed to on this ship.

“Robot Man,” Drax yelled, making Tony jump. They were a maximum of two feet apart.

“I’m iron, okay? Iron Man.”

Drax snorted. “Your suit would be crumpled into a ball by now. It cannot be made of iron. You have made a poor choice in weaponry,” the tattooed behemoth cackled at his own skills of observation. Meanwhile, Tony lamented that his skills of sarcasm and pop culture nicknamery were completely wasted in the void above a planet with these…idiots. Gamora was the only sensible one among them, the only one Tony could talk to, but she wanted nothing to do with him. “We eat and strategize now,” Drax exclaimed after composing himself.

Rocket started off the meal with a riveting breakdown of his knowledge so far on the Annihilus threat. Negative-energy signatures in key parts of the galaxy, each representing a breach between their enemy’s dimension and theirs, populations ravaged by an associate of their target named Blastaar, a name which Tony thought was a little too on-the-nose even compared to ‘Annihilus,’ and finally, a holographic map of their movements, suggesting a culmination in the central point of Earth. Wonderful, Tony thought, more work.

“This doesn’t look good,” Peter Quill, ever stating the bare minimum, mumbled.

“Thanos had a weak alliance with this—this creature from someplace called the Negative Zone,” Gamora explained, “he used to talk about how, with the universe’s population cut in half, the sparsely habited Negative Zone could expand freely. It’s only taken them this long because their dimension doesn’t have the resources Thanos had.”

“I am Groot.” Tony gave the tree the same confused look he gave it every time it said this.

“No, we can’t just blow them to smithereens,” Rocket responded, then he mumbled, “others tried that. Plus they defeated some guys named the Fashion Four—”

“Fantastic Four,” Gamora corrected.

Rocket paused a moment. “Can we really call them fantastic if they’re dead?”

“The point is,” Gamora took over, “that we need allies and far more firepower. Blastaar is a living bomb. I believe Thanos did not openly partner with them for fear they would betray his plan for all-out genocide and enslavement.”

“Isn’t that a cozy thought,” Quill said. “I’ll need a few more tunes for my iPod nano, but then I’m ready to kick some ass.”

“Dude, stop trying. The console is right there. Figure out the cords yourself.” Tony could feel his blood boiling in frustration. “Side note: how has your relationship lasted this long when he obviously doesn’t listen to you?”

Gamora only pursed her lips.

“Earn your music,” Tony pointed at Quill. “We need an army, and I’d like less talking.”

“Hey, Ineffective Metal Man,” Rocket said, shaking a bottle of booze across the table, “calm down or I won’t pour you one.”

“Iron…never mind. Not today.” Tony rested his head in his hand, looking out yet another small port window.

Rocket sat confused. Stark had never refused to drink with him. “Why? What’s today?”

“Actually, it’s my daughter’s birthday.”

“Oh my god, you spawned?” Rocket blurted. His eyes shifted between the dirty looks of the others. “I mean, good for you.”

“She is left on your world defenseless? That is terrible,” Drax added.

“You’re probably gonna need to get her an expensive gift. Chicks like that,” Quill chimed.

“What do you normally do for her birthday?” Gamora spoke to Tony directly for first time.

“A card,” Tony said, unable to turn back around, waving a hand around in apology.

“Yes, one card representing someone of her choice for you to kill, an excellent gift,” Drax agreed. Tony didn’t have the heart to clarify what he’d really meant but could feel Quill’s eyes at his back.

“That’s pathetic,” Rocket breathed. “Here, she can have one of my smaller guns. No charge.”

“I’m not giving her a gun,” Tony fought. “I’m out here with you idiots to keep things like that away from her.”

“Uh, aren’t there guns on Earth?” Quill slumped his head a little, pretty sure of the answer. “And you guys still have people who attack the Avengers who don’t even have abilities.”

“They can handle…them,” Tony waved his hand in the air, “without me, but I need to be here making sure that buggy-looking space breather from another dimension doesn’t get back to Earth.”

“Then Earth’s resources should come here,” Gamora said bluntly, “because we will need them before this is over.”

“You should return home to give your young one her death card,” Drax suggested, almost excitedly. “Then muster the full force of Earth’s heroes to murder the bug.”

“Annihilus is not a bug,” Rocket mumbled.

“It looks like one,” Drax added, “and moves like one. I do not know what he tastes like, but I imagine him to be crunchy like one. So I will call him a bug.”

Quill made a gagging face.

Rocket muttered, “unnecessarily disgusting.”

“I am Groot.”

“You will not eat the bad guy,” Rocket exploded. “You don’t even eat!”

“I am Groot,” came the solemn reply.

“You’re a cannibal?” Quill looked even greener as he stared at the tree. “What have you been eating on this ship? Your own clippings?”

Groot shrugged. Everyone let out several moans of overwhelming distaste.

Tony remained seated, sure the universe was doomed, but at the very least, he could leave these imbeciles now to return home before the end. Maybe he would even have the absolute solace of flying back solo.

[Ch. 17: Whisky]

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[azure-bluet]

Zam and Derapchu's conversations

This will be updated with new vods and timestamps as I get them.

Derapchu has streamed some of these (Nov 8, Nov 28, Nov 29, Dec 3). I'll add his vods and timestamps when he uploads them on his channel

PRIDE. *** [October 15]

2:09:01 - At the end of his pacifism arc. Zam had just been having a conversation with himself about what to do with Wemmbu, and coming to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do. A minute later, he sees Derapchu ban Mid.

4:34:36 - Zam has began to change his point of view mainly due to Derapchu's words. He's had conversations with other players (like Poafa), and has attacked Flame and Wemmbu with Mapicc and Spoke. Here he has the first conversation in his flower field with Derap

DIE FOR YOU *** [November 8]

1:42:28 - They talk about how a few days before (both Derap and Pangi streamed it), Mapicc (and Squiddo) had tried killing Derap after he teared down Chief's tower. Derapchu wants to know where he and Zam stand.

GUIDE DOG. *** [November 28]

11:24 - They have a long talk about Revive Beacons and Wemmbu, and about Zam's wants. Derapchu believes he needs to be more selfish.

1:27:03 - Derapchu calls Zam over to the flower field, where he finds a book and a heart in a chest.

1:31:50 - "We're both tied at 17" "I like having the same heart count as Derapchu. I also like having just one of his hearts"

3:37:04 - Derapchu asks him to talk to him tomorrow.

ECHOES. *** [November 29]

Derapchu and Zam do tasks together for ~4 hours. They build the Vitalasy s5 hole underneath Vitalasy’s home. They discuss selfishness, and how Derapchu feels like Zam hasn't done enough for himself this season (hasn't been selfish enough). There's a good > 2 hours where Derapchu's away collecting materials.

19:00 They meet up, and Derap tells him what they’re going to do that day.

1:10:27 - 2:34:25 Derapchu's away collecting gapples, breeze rods, golden carrots and chorus fruit.

2:41:00 - 3:45:10 Derapchu's away collecting crying obsidian

2:51:00 Derapchu asks him how he feels after that. Zam says he feels good, that it was a nice change of pace. He also tells him that he's realised that the main reason why he's keeping the beacon is because it's a safety net for himself.

SHATTER. *** [November 30]

Lifesteal session. They spend most of it together. They talk to Ash and Kaboodle, and repair spawn a bit.

1:36:25 Zam and Ash meet with Derapchu.

1:50:48 They talk to Kaboodle

2:25:29 They confront Ash

2:40:25 Derapchu apologises for being pushy on the previous stream. Zam says he doesn’t need to apologise, since he appreciated the gesture. They spend a good while repairing spawn, and talking about the Focus betrayal.

2:43:50 Zam tells Derap about Kaboodle

3:12:38 They talk to 4C

CHANGES.*** [December 3]

Derapchu and Zam do a few more tasks (repairing spawn) and a trust test that doesn’t go according to plan. At the end, Derapchu asks Zam to team with him. After some reflection and consideration, Zam accepts. Derapchu tells him that he has the ability to revive everyone, and Zam tells him about the dupe glitch (that he won’t have to use anymore) and the sanctuary he’s been building. Team Atlas.

1:31 They meet up. Derapchu asks for 7 hearts from Zam.

3:15 "These are Poafa's hearts, these are sensitive hearts"

24:27 They talk to Pangi. Horrible, horrible things happen.

1:50:34 The trust exercise (it goes wrong).

2:07:45 Derap tells him he's realised he doesn't actually want to team with the Sticklers

2:12:18 He asks Zam if he wants to team with him. Zam asks to give him some time to think about it.

2:32:50 They meet up, and after a bit of discussion on what it would mean to be teamed (since Zam still wants to have some independence), they officially team up.

2:42:00 Derapchu tells Zam he can revive everyone. After this, they discuss a team name and what their projects will be.

3:16:35 "It's been a while since I had a day where everything went well"

GREYS. *** [December 4]

3:49:00 Zam and Derapchu discuss plans on gathering enchanted golden apples

WASTE. *** [December 8]

6:36:25 Derapchu appears

6:38:50 Zam starts telling Derapchu about the happenings of the day

6:45:40 - 6:55:45 Mane interruption

6:55:45 Zam continues his retelling

☆ 6:59:00 Zam mentions how everyone villainises him so much. Derapchu reiterates that there's a lot of people who like him. Zam replies that there's not that many that respect him, only 5. "That's enough". Zam realised that he does so much for the server, and gets little to nothing in return. Derap says this is why he wanted to help him, because he's tired of seeing how Zam is being treated. "I will be here every step of the way".

7:03:00 "Let's go to your garden, you think better there"

7:04:45 When Zam mentions that Kaboodle doesn't respect his boundaries Derapchu asks for permission to kill her.

7:06:10 "It's better than having to put up with the pain just by yourself, right?"

7:08:03-7:20:00 Talking to kaboodle while derap listens

7:20:00 They continue to talk about their revival and enchanted golden apple plans.

Bonus

We Shall Prevail *** [November 20]

23:39 - No notes.

[project1939]

100+ Films of 1952

Film number 126: Carrie 

Release date: July 17th, 1952 

Studio: MGM 

Genre: melodrama 

Director: William Wyler 

Producer: Lester Koenig, William Wyler 

Actors: Laurence Olivier, Jennifer Jones, Eddie Albert 

Plot Summary: Based on Theodore Dreiser's 1900 novel Sister Carrie, Carrie travels to Chicago to make her way in the big city. After getting fired from her factory job, she finds a caretaker in Charlie, a man she met on the train. When she moves in with him before they are married, social stigma destroys her reputation and self-worth. Then a rich friend of Charlie's falls head over heels for her... 

My Rating (out of five stars): **¾  

This is one of those “prestige films” that falls flat on its bloated self-important face. To be fair, it’s not exactly a bad film... it’s just not a very good one. Laurence Olivier is its saving grace, but even he can’t work miracles. (Spoilers!) 

The Good: 

Laurence Olivier as George. He is the reason to watch this film. His performance wraps you up with him, and you can almost feel everything George does. It’s impressively natural and expressive at the same time, and I just loved watching it. He maybe leaned a little too hard into the melodrama at the end, but I forgive that because of everything that came before. 

Eddie Albert as Charlie. He was really effective and entertaining as a fast-talking salesman who was equal parts charming and caddish. 

The period costumes and sets were beautiful. 

Some of the writing/dialogue was good. There were several times when I was watching that I thought, “Oooh that's a good line.” I assume this is probably from the source material. 

I liked that many of the women weren’t wearing heavy Hollywood makeup. That was much more historically accurate- for the early 1900s, it would have been ridiculous. 

The Bad: 

The character of Carrie. I don’t know if she had more complexity and agency in the book, but here she was mostly reduced to simpering and helpless. 

Jennifer Jones. Part of it was the script, I’m sure, but she wasn’t alluring or interesting enough to rise above the material. I was highly skeptical that she could have caused George to lose all his senses. 

There was a lack of detail at the beginning of the romance between Carrie and George, so their love wasn’t very believable or engrossing. 

Having to change the source material because it wasn’t safe for Hollywood. The ending was even more bleak in the novel, it was less moralizing, and its sexuality was more overt. 

It got much too melodramatic in the last third of the film, and especially in the last 15 minutes or so. The absurd contrast between her success on the stage and his fall into the gutter was way too much. 

The music was over the top even for a melodrama. It was so bad it pulled me out of the story and made me laugh more than once. 

It was an incredibly bleak film, numbingly and painfully so. Sometimes a bleak film is worth it because of its artistic excellence or the issues it raises. This film had neither.  

The Hollywood trope of people who are down on their luck suddenly becoming famous actors. When Carrie is destitute, her solution is to go on the stage! Cause that’s a surefire way to make money, isn’t it? Well, in Hollywood films it is! 

Again with the blaming of women for sexual “sins” rather than men. The poster makes it seem like the onus is all on her, when: 1) a guy pretty much tricked her into living with him before they were married, and 2) another man didn’t tell her he was married when he wooed her, and then he married her without telling her he hadn’t divorced his first wife! She was the one at fault?! She was the one “using men”?!?! 

[missmitchieg]

No, genuinely. The writers are so awful to Penelope for no reason. They keep giving her bad boyfriends or just subpar boyfriends she can't talk to because "he wouldn't get it", and then the minute a hot guy shows her positive attention, we're given a reason for that man to never ever be her boyfriend. It's so frustrating.

Shit, look at her exes.

Shane Wyeth - Ugh. I hate this bitch. It's the first time this man is seeing Penelope in years and the first thing he says is "you lost weight"? Bitch?! He insisted she misses him and then told her to prove she doesn't. Oh, fuck off into your dumb man cave. He just assumed Penelope was sleeping with Derek. Bitch?! He was unbelievably bitchy for all of The Black Queen. He's insufferable.

Jason Clark Battle - Told Penelope a fake name. Was a dirty cop. Tried to kill her. Enough said.

Sam no last name - Mr. no patience for small talk (oof, it's already bad. Penelope needs someone she can talk to.) deliberately ignored that Penelope didn't wanna think of their dates as more than just a couple of dates (yucky!) and it creeped me the fuck out. Let her have her own feelings about irrelevant dates she clearly didn't care much for. Let her minimize those dates if she wants to. Creep. Then for no good reason other than "...White man!", he and Penelope get put together and it's just her complaining about "Derek, help, my boyfriend is a fucking doormat who never takes it upon himself to make plans, it always is on me and it feels like he is less invested in this relationship than me and literally doesn't care what we do together, what do I do" "Derek, I need to talk to you about this because I can't talk to Sam, he wouldn't get it". Ick City. Kevin didn't even like this guy. That's when you know it's BAD.

Kevin Lynch - Started dating Penelope basically immediately after a severely traumatic event. Yikes. When Penelope came back to the job after being shot, she walked into her office to find Kevin left it a MESS, which I find to be extremely disrespectful to Penelope's space. BITCH. Tried to feed Penelope, a known vegetarian, a bacon doughnut. Bitch. Broke up with her and made her cry because she still wanted to be with him for... some reason, she just wasn't ready to get married yet. Bitch. Entered Penelope’s apartment without her knowing and also turned the breaker off so all the lights didn’t work and then complained about her being too stressed out after a guy tried to kill her. BITCH. Asked Penelope to think about moving far away from all of her friends to a farm with no wi-fi, which would be severely isolating and extremely toxic and disgusting. I'm getting Doug Kendall vibes here. Scary!

Now look at Tyler Green.

This bastard. First of all, he's a material witness to a case, which makes him automatically a major no-no. Red flag. Second of all, his infiltrating Voit's network and lying to him about wanting to be trained as a killer is what made Luke finally crack and ask Penelope to go back to the job that caused her 15 years worth of trauma after the team PROMISED they wouldn't. Red flag. Third of all, he was rude as hell to Penelope when his bitch ass was the one that demanded her fucking time to help him and for what? To tell them to get her out of the room and shut down. What the fuck. Red flag. Then when he's told to apologize, he goes and forces a new responsibility on this already exhausted woman getting her a new kitten. Red flag. Then his dumb ass tempts Penelope and puts her in a position where she had to keep a secret that was revealed by her newfound irresponsibility and made everyone pissed at her and wasn't even fucking sorry about it. Red. Fucking. Flag. He lied to the entire team about when they asked if he knew which suspect was Sicarius. Red flag and just a bitch move. He literally told Penelope he fully planned to off himself?! 🚨🚨🚨 Bitch?! 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

Now look at the guys that actually like her and treat her well and the fandom actually likes them.

Derek Morgan - My beloved. <3 "Babygirl, you're my God-given solace." "You are a Goddess, woman." "You are the light of my life, sweet lady." "Everything you and I do together is magic, since the minute we met." Just a few of my favorite things Mr. Morgan has said to Miss Garcia. Told her to go Original Garcia when she tried to be more like JJ. King. Acted as her bodyguard even when the goon squad was outside her apartment after she got shot. King. Loves her loudly. King.

Phil Brooks - RIP to The Man. He would've been an incredible boyfriend and made a very convincing case for why Luke should've set them up. He was clearly interested in chica. He asked Luke about her multiple times and Luke kept shutting him down when my guy was the total package. And then he was murdered because the writers hate Penelope, and me, personally.

Luke Alvez - Luke! My man! Knows what kind of gift to give my girl. Wants so badly to be the someone Penelope goes to when she's hurt or scared. Loves her. Protects her. Would never hurt her or leave. An angel. Would hate all of her exes a little bit if he met them.

The Criminal Minds/Evolution writers really don't want Penelope to be happy and I hate that.

[cherrychilli]

Secrets

Steve Harrington Smut, AFAB reader, friends to lovers

Summary: What could have been another ordinary night marathoning horror movies in your basement with your closest friend takes a turn when Steve discovers your little secret. Hella smut.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, Nipple play, Fingering, titty fucking, sliiiight Perv! Steve(just barely in my opinion),

A/N: This is my first fic so please go easy on me. Also, apologies for any inaccuracies about nipple piercings in the 80's

Wordcount: 4.4k

It didn’t take you all that long to regret insisting on a horror movie marathon for your sleepover with Steve.

You’re far from the type to watch those kinds of movies through parted fingers or while cowered behind a comfortable cushion, but even you weren’t immune to a well-crafted jump scare.

The timing of it all was really unfortunate. You had reached for the glass of cold water set on the table in front of you, about to take a sip when it happened. The piercing sound effect catches you completely off guard, causing you to jolt and lose grip of the glass.

“Shit!”, the ice-cold contents immediately soak the front of your oversized tee as the empty glass topples to the floor, thudding softly against carpet before rolling away underneath the couch. A quick shudder overtakes you as your skin prickles with goosebumps and you hiss from the sudden freezing sensation. “Fuck fuck fuck!”.

You jump up from the couch, flicking the excess water off of your arms in a frenzy. Droplets spray in every direction as you look back at the couch to find that Steve’s doubling over with laughter at your little accident. Annoyed, you narrow your eyes at him before kicking him in the calf. “Get up and help me, Harrington!”.

With one arm wrapped around his stomach in an effort to quell his laughter, he makes his way to the pile of fresh laundry sitting in a basket on top of the washing machine, ready to hauled back upstairs if you ever decide to follow through with your chores.

“And when is the horror part of the movie supposed to begin, Steve?”. Your lips purse instantly when you recognize his less than adequate impression of you. Specifically, the teasing you’d dished out around the 15-minute mark of his first pick of the night.

“Alright, lesson learned, ok?”, you roll your eyes, trying to cut the mockery short but to no avail.

“I’ve seen children’s specials scarier than this, Harrington”. He continued in the same taunting tone as he returns to your side with a clean towel, about to hand it to you.

“Talked a big game back there, huh? Bet you feel pretty silly…”

You watch curiously as his smug expression shifts entirely. His eyebrows raise slowly and his lips remain parted since trailing off at the end of his latest jab.

Following his wide-eyed stare, you look down at your chest and your stomach drops. The damp material of your tee is clinging to the outline of your breasts like a second skin and the powder blue material now appears almost completely see through in its current state. Suddenly all you can feel is an overwhelming warmth cloaking your entire body but your humiliation only deepens when you realize the worst part.

Steve raises a shaky finger to point, towel still in his grasp. “Are those…?”

Your best friend’s just figured out that a tan wasn’t the only thing you came back home with from your summer vacation last year.

Your hands spring up to your chest, palms settling firmly over your visibly peaked nipples before you whip around.

“I’m going to go get changed” you rattle off before scrambling back to your room.

Closing your room door behind you, you lean against it defeatedly, sinking down to the floor while burying your face in your hands. You weren’t ashamed of the secret summer activity you had planned during your vacation last year. There was no big reason behind it. You liked it and that was more than good enough for you so you went through with it.  Most people your age ended up getting something pierced anyway. For you, that something just happened to be your nipples. While you couldn’t have been happier with how they turned out the last thing you needed was someone else figuring out your little secret before you were ready.

Groaning into your hands, you thought back to how you had opted to go braless despite planning to spend the night watching movies with Steve. You only did it because of how uncomfortable the underwear sometimes made your feel when the steel barbells rubbed against the restraining material. Figuring they’d go unnoticed under your oversized tee you felt secure enough to forego a bra without much of an afterthought. You cursed your foolishness.

Sliding your underwear drawer open you reach in to pick a bra to go with your new dry sweatshirt but eventually find yourself deciding against it. As embarrassing as it is, Steve already knows and that’s something that can’t be undone. Dressed again and after a deep breath, you force yourself out of your room and back into the basement.

Steve’s polite enough to pretend that it hadn’t happened when you settle back down to watch the rest of the movie but the awkward atmosphere had already set in and it was nothing short of suffocating. You’re both perched at opposite ends of the couch, wordlessly watching the movie as it illuminates the darkened basement but neither of you really process what’s happening on screen.

You try your best to will your embarrassment away but you can’t help but let the image of Steve staring wordlessly at your soaked tits play over and over in your mind.

It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s only embarrassing if you choose to be embarrassed, right? If you keep being weird about it neither of you will ever get over it, right? You can’t ignore it forever. You shouldn’t ignore it.

Right?

You can’t tell if you’re making any sense or not but the silence is killing you and it’s too late now because the words are already leaving your mouth.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to see them?”

His gaze cautiously meets your earnest expression. You’re at a loss as to what the hell has come over you so suddenly but you decide to ride this wave nonetheless.

He releases a nervous breath. “You’re messing with me”.

You inch closer to his side of the couch. “I promise I’m not”

You can see the gears grinding in his head, desperately trying to produce the right answer but clearly failing. After a few seconds of silence, you try another approach.

“Fine.” You slip back to your end of the couch and cross your arms over your belly. “Guess you aren’t interested. Didn’t think Steve Harrington would pass up an opportunity to look at a pair of boobies”. You’re not a fan of the word in the slightest but you force yourself to say it only for the sake of winding him up.

“Wait wait wait.” That got him talking.

Clearing his throat first he says, “I didn’t say that”.

You giggle at his attempt to appear composed and for a moment you feel something other than your racing nerves coursing through you and you’re thankful for the few seconds of respite.

His eyes flick to the front of your sweatshirt quickly before coming back to return your gaze.

“Are you sure?”

***********

This is insane this is insane this is fucking insane.

And just like that the nerves are back. You’re seated on the couch facing Steve now, legs folded underneath your body as your fingers hook under the hem of your sweatshirt. His body in turned towards you too, one arm resting on the back of the couch while the other is placed on his thigh over his sweatpants.

Just like ripping off a band aid, You pysch yourself up.

And with that, you pull the thick sweatshirt off your frame and let it fall to the floor, finally revealing your bare breasts and leaving you in nothing but your little grey pajama shorts.

You can tell that he’s just as nervous as you are as you watch him swallow thickly and notice the way his fingers dig into his thigh when his eyes fall to your chest.

After what feels like a lifetime he finally asks, “When?”

“Last year, when I went away for the summer”, you answer, heart thrumming rapidly in your chest.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yeah. But only for a couple of seconds”.

“How about now?”

“They’re healed now but they’re still pretty sensitive”.

His fingers twitch at that mention of that detail.

“Oh… Is it uncomfortable?”

You thought for a moment. While there have been a few times where the increased sensitivity was a little unpleasant, truthfully, you loved it overall. The little sparks of pleasure each time you played with them made it hard for you to keep your own hands to yourself most nights.

“Sometimes. But most of the time it’s kind of nice”, you downplay.

Steve hums in response, focus pinned on how the light being cast from the tv makes the steel barbells glint and glisten.

“You can touch them if you want”

Whatthefuck.

You’re taken aback by your own impulsive words. Letting Steve look at them was one thing but actually letting him put his hands on you is an entire other thing. It’s not that you don’t want him to. It’s not that at all. Honestly, you’re only worried that you might not be able to control yourself.

“Can I?” he asks, face lighting up despite his best efforts to not appear too eager.

You glance at the hand he has closed around his thigh. You’ve never told him good you thought his hands looked. Large hands with the same long, slender fingers you’d catch yourself eyeing from time to time. Warm. Inviting. Rough but safe.

You bite your bottom lip before answering.

“Yes. Please”

You’re holding your breath now as he shifts closer to you on the couch, fingers coming to curl around your sides, just below your breasts. “I’ll stop whenever you want me to. Just tell me when, okay?”. It’s the very last thing you want to hear but you soften just the same at how considerate he’s being with you. You nod affirmatively, hungry for him to begin touching you. Really touching you.

His thumbs begin to brush against the underside of your breasts, tracing the curve a few times before making their way to your nipples. He starts to rub at the rounded ends of the jewelry experimentally, unblinking as you both watch your nipples perk up at the indirect stimulation. You release a shaky breath only to inhale sharply when his thumbs start to rub at your stiff peaks from side to side.

“You weren’t kidding. I’ve barely touched you”, he says it with more awe than ego, keeping his gaze fixed on your tits as he continues to gently swipe his thumbs gently over your nipples back and forth.

“You- I didn’t expect you to…I never knew you even liked..um-”, He’s struggling and it’s adorable and kind of hilarious at the same time considering you’re the one with your top off getting your tits played with.

“Anyone can have their nipples pierced, Steve. They’re not just reserved for the girls in those magazines”, you reply unsteadily, already warming up under his touch.

“What magazines?”, he manages distractedly, eyes still very much fixed on your tits.

“The ones you think I don’t know about. The ones you keep under your bed”.

Now his attention is back on your face, eyes wide and hands slipping down to your waist, much to your disappointment.

“Holding them for a friend, Steven?”, you manage to tease.

It had happened purely by coincidence. The ringing of the hallway phone had drawn Steve away from his bedroom that one evening you were hanging out at his house, leaving you to settle on his bed until he’d finished with the call. A stiff edge protruding from underneath his mattress had caught your attention when it scratched against the back of your calf. Pulling the shoddily hidden magazine free from its confines you were met with the sultry gaze of a very topless woman gracing the cover. You had meant to put it right back immediately. It would have been the proper thing to do. It wasn’t any of your business after all. All rational thought began to dissipate however when a new thought came reeling to the forefront of your mind. It isn’t just any dirty magazine. This one belongs to Steve. The overwhelming need to take advantage of this opportunity was too much to stifle. You wanted to know what he liked. What turned him on. What made him hard.

Practically ripping the magazine open, you begin flipping through the many pages of women in lacy lingerie and many more of women in nothing at all. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself until you’d flipped over to a new page. The model who had been posed on her back with her legs spread hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. Or so you had thought until you had begun to notice a resemblance. Does she look like me? Not exact but not unlike yourself either. Just close enough. Lifting your gaze to the hand she had wrapped around one of her perky tits it was then that you noticed that her nipples were pierced. You’d harbored thoughts of getting your own pierced for a long time but hadn’t gone through with it yet because of a few lingering concerns. Concerns that you were struggling to recall now that you think about it, too transfixed oh how good you thought the jewelry looked on someone who happened to resemble you.

You pinched the page between your thumb and forefinger as you gazed curiously at the picture for a moment longer before pondering why the texture of the page felt different from the others. Rubbing the page between your fingers, it reminded you of the way paper sometimes crinkled or warped once dried. “Oh…” You quickly realized and then became very aware of the sudden warmth building between your thighs. An image of Steve flashes through your mind, brows furrowed together, one hand on the magazine turned to the very page you’d been eyeing while the other was wrapped around his leaking cock, stroking desperately. Stuffing the magazine back in its place, you had no choice but to feign a sudden bout of fever when Steve finally returned to his bedroom that night, knowing that he’d question the unyielding blush painting your cheeks.

“You looked through my things?”. His voice brings you back to the present. He doesn’t sound angry. Doesn’t look it either. Yet you still feel the need to clarify, “I didn’t go looking for it but yes, I found it”.

“Oh”… he exclaims sheepishly.

“Thought the girl on page 14 looked a little familiar”, you smile softly.

“You noticed, huh?”

“Sure did”

“Guess we’re even”, he reasons with a smile. “I know your little secret and you know mine”.

You quirk an eyebrow at him suggestively, “want to know another”?

He swallows before answering, “Sure”.

You lean in, tits pressing against his chest as you whisper against his ear. “I think about you when I touch myself too”.

“Christ, when did you get like this?” he groans as you wrap your hands around his wrists, encouraging his hands back up towards your breasts but instead, he wraps them around your waist, pulling you in to straddle his lap. You eagerly follow suit, repositioning your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

Steve watches your face as he takes hold of each end of the horizontal bar piercing your right nipple between his thumb and index finger. He pulls softly at the steel until your tender peak grows taut and your brows knit together. It’s only when he angles the jewelry with a twist that you finally let the whimper you’ve been biting back slip past your lips. Satisfied, he smirks, releasing your nipple before repeating the move on the opposite nipple and then both together, several times over while intermittently kneading your tits. “You’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, sweetheart”. His praise shoots straight to your burning abdomen but you fail to answer with words as your moans grow louder and lewder. Thank fuck you and Steve had the house to yourselves tonight because there’s no doubt in your mind that someone would have heard you by now. Your soft flesh grows sensitive to his touch but at no point does the word ‘stop’ materialize in your mind, nor do you let it, too busy arching your chest forward for more. Your eyes are pinched closed, savoring the way Steve’s shamelessly fondling your breasts, pinching and squeezing relentlessly. He’s just as enamored with the way your face contorts at the sensation of his ministrations, eager to pry as many of those pretty sounds out of you as possible.

Placing the pad of his thumb at the very center of a perky bud, he pushes down against it and into your breast, maintaining firm pressure before moving his thumb in a circular motion. The pressure combined with the sensation of the piercing trapped under his moving thumb has you keening.

“Fuck, oh god, Steve”, you mewl

“That good?”

You answer with a pitiful whimper as your fingers dig into his shirt over his shoulders. It is good. So good but it’s not enough.

“Need more--need your mouth on my tits” you plead. Steve doesn’t hesitate complying.

He begins with the right one, teasing your nipple by flicking the nub with his tongue while his fingers pinch at your left. Your fingers make their way to his perfect hair, tugging when you feel his lips close around the bud and he begins to suck. You can feel the light stubble on his chin scratch along your soft skin as he alternates between sucking and laving along each nipple and it makes you feel like your whole chest is on fire. Just when you think you’re getting used to all the intoxicating heavy petting you yelp when he takes hold of the jewelry between his teeth, tugging at it until your nails scrape along Steve’s scalp. “Ah!, Steve, it’s so—Mm! don’t stop”. A maddening amount of minutes pass and your supple flesh has grown tender with all the rosy bruises he’s managed to suck onto the surface. Tears threaten to spill as he flicks a finger against your left nipple, nail clicking against the steel bar bell, causing bolts of pleasure to course through the abused bud.

“Shit, how many messes are you going to make tonight, baby?”, he smirks

You’re equal parts relieved and disappointed when his lips and hands pause their unrelenting assault on your chest. In-between pants you reply, “what are you talking about?”

“You don’t feel that?” He asks. Following his gaze again you look down to focus. “Oh fuck”

It shouldn’t have surprised you given how good Steve had made you feel but you hadn’t expected to find that you’d soaked through your own shorts. You feel your cheeks burn when you find that your arousal’s also stained the front of his sweatpants too.

You’re trying to form some sort of apology only to be cut off when he asks, “Want me to make it all better, pretty girl?”

You nod without hesitation, standing up between his legs as he leans forward. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down until they’re pooled at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your cotton panties. They’re one of your most modest pairs but that doesn’t stop Steve from eyeing your underwear with pure lust..

He turns you around before pulling you back down to settle in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. You immediately spread your legs over his thighs as he reaches for your center, his fingers rubbing along the obvious wet patch above your folds. “You’re so good for me, baby all nice and wet already”.

“Please, Steve”, you whine pathetically. “Want your fingers in me now—don’t think I can wait”

“Can’t say no to you, Angel”, he coos. Pulling your panties to the side, he spreads your slick folds apart with his fingers and the sound is subtle but too distinct to miss given how wet you were. Steve curses as he rests his chin on your shoulder, both of you watching as he spreads your glistening pussy open. He seems to match your impatience, wanting to feel you as he begins to work his middle finger into your sopping hole. “Fuck, you’re so warm” he moans and you rut against his hand in response, eager for more of that stretch as his finger works in and out of your silky walls. He adds his ring finger soon after, while his other hand comes up to pull at your nipple piercing again. “Shit, Steve – you’re really- you’re really good with your hands”, you keen as he curls his fingers against a particular spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. His long rough fingers pump in and out of your dripping cunt as you fail to hold back the string of needy moans that spill past your lips.

“Steve, I’m so close” you whine

“You going to come? Go ahead, soak my fingers”

When his thumb comes down to make contact with your swollen clit, rubbing quick circles into the sensitive bud you fall apart. Clenching around his fingers, your back arches as you spasm, crying out wantonly as your orgasm rips through you. “I know, baby I know”, he coos into your ear as he continues to pump his fingers into you, working you through your orgasm.

When it starts to become too much your hand falls between your spread legs, weakly circling around Steve’s wrist to signal that you need to stop. Pulling his fingers from your sopping core, you can’t help but still whine at the loss. You’re coming down from your high and despite how hard he made you come there was something else that was just too hard to ignore even in your blissed out state.

You reach behind to palm Steve’s obvious erection through his sweatpants. “I want you to feel good too, Steve”.  

“Baby…”, his voice sounds wrecked and it makes you want to rub your thighs together. You’d felt it begin to stiffen and press against you the first time you settled in Steve’s lap but there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s completely hard now. Your mind is swimming at just how big he feels underneath his sweatpants while your rub against it tantalizingly. You’d heard the rumors. People talked after all. He’d dated several girls and while they’d end up breaking up over several many different reasons, they all seemed to agree on one thing if the girl’s locker room gossip is to be believed. Steve was hung.

“I know you want it, I can feel you throbbing”, you tease softly. “I have an idea”, you continue, getting up from Steve’s lap before coming down to kneel on carpet between his legs.

“What’s that?”

“I want to you to fuck my tits”

“Jesus, baby you can’t just say shit like that. I’m going to cum in my pants if you do”, he says sounding pained

“Well get them off then” you counter sweetly.

“Just can’t say no to you” he laughs, raising his hips slightly off the couch as he eases his sweatpants and boxers down. This time it’s your eyes that go wide and your lips part when his cock comes into view. The rumors were certainly true. He wraps a large fist around his impressive length, pumping twice as you eye a creamy bead develop at his pink tip and slip down his shaft. “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asks, amused at your slack jawed expression. “Yes, I don’t want to go back now”, you answer honestly. You prop yourself up on your knees as you prepare to line up your chest with Steve’s cock. You’re already salivating from the view when you spit down the valley between your breasts and he groans, watching the saliva trail and glisten against your chest. You place your hands on either side of your tits, pushing them together to wrap them around Steve’s dick. Your tits are still sensitive from all of Steve’s attention but that sensation soon becomes an afterthought at the feeling of having his thick cock cushioned between them. You bounce on your knees, working him into a rhythm as his head falls back against the back of the couch with a whine, watching you through hooded eyes.

“Christ, angel, do you even realize how bad you’re being right now?”

To show that you can be far far worse you stick your tongue out in time to lick at his tip when it emerges from between your tits, maintaining eye contact with Steve as you moan at the taste of him.

“FuckfuckFUCK” he hisses, taking hold of your wrist and bringing your rhythm to a halt. He pulls you back towards the couch. “Could you lie down for me?”

You’re slightly puzzled but you get up to position yourself on the couch like he asked, on your back with your head laying against the armrest. “Like this?”

“Perfect. God, you look fucking perfect”, he growls.

Positioning his hips over your chest he slots his cock between your breasts and you wrap your tits around him again as he begins thrusting, picking up from where you left off.

“I’m not going to last much longer”, he puffs after a few minutes, sweat beading at his forehead and abdomen clenching to stave off his impending orgasm.

“You can finish on me”, you whimper in response.

“Shit, really?”

“Please, I want you to. Cum on my tits, Steve”, you moan

His release spurts out moments later in thick, hot pearly streams, the first of which manages to catch the bottom of your chin, some of it coats your throat and part of your hair just beside your neck but most of it collects on and between your breasts.

Pulling away from you and tucking himself back into his sweatpants, Steve brings a hand to your aching chest, collecting some of his release on to his index and middle fingers before smearing the sticky substance along your throbbing nipple and the jewelry adorning it.

Running his free hand through his now completely mussed hair his mind fogs with the fact that you’d just let him dirty you like this. Practically begged for it, even.

“We’ve really crossed a line”, he laughs weakly, clearly spent.

“About time”, you smile back sweetly.

[abyss-sss]

Love Languages-Levi x Reader HC’s

Content: HC’s, Pure, tooth rotting fluff, GN reader I’m pretty sure, implied that reader is a captain alongside Levi.

Word Count: 839

A/N: Writers block? Try writing for Levi.

Words of affirmation -Although Levi get's flustered giving or receiving praise he likes to hear/say it sometimes. -If you tell him "I'm proud of you" or "You did well" he will shut down and retort with a mild "shut up, brat" all while blushing. -Levi's favorite way to word his appreciation is just to say "Thank you." -"Thank you for saving me," "Thank you for being here," and "Thank you for loving me" are all things he's made sure to say.  -He is super shy about saying the L-word even though he denies it. Before he learns to say it without hesitance his go-to will be "Stay safe," "Stay alive." That's what's most important to him and you recognize it as his form of "I love you." -Even though Levi knows you get it he tries to voice it in case either of you die. If he didn't say all the things he loved about you in your lifetimes then he would never forgive himself. Quality time -Levi loves spending any amount of time with you. -Sitting on the couch, lying in bed lazily or cooking together- he soaks up every single minute. -Often you two will talk about random things or just sit in comfortable silence. Exchanging mindless gossip or talking about your days is usually how you spend your evenings.  -You'll  both complain about the restless cadets, talking about how they'll get themselves killed before they get all their maneuvers down. (Mostly in jest. You both love the cadets, no matter how lazy or idiotic some of them are.) -There's an unsaid air between you and him where you can feel at peace with each other's presence. Even without saying anything there is never a lull in the conversation. -Every night Levi will try to spend at least 15 minutes of good quality time with you. -If he forgets his 15 minutes while working you'll walk into his office and whisk him away for a break saying, "Come on, i need my 15 minute cuddles." Levi physically could not resist you even if he tried. Receiving gifts  -Levi isn't very material oriented. Growing up with so little in the underground  taught him to not get attached to objects. -That being said, as things grow more stable in his life he starts to collect teacups and trinkets.  -Levi will spend some Saturdays at the local flea market, looking through collectors items and books. -He'll bring you small gifts sometimes, usually leaving them somewhere you'll find them without a word. -He doesn't react very well to gifts, insisting that he "doesn't deserve anything" from you. When he does accept them, he'll keep them on a special display shelf that he dusts obsessively. Any gifts he receives will become precious. -If you two ever go into a wall rose to shop at fancy stores he'll sneak behind your back to buy you a necklace that would just look so perfect on you... Acts of service  -Levi is a big "show, not tell" kind of guy when it comes to affection. That's why acts of service is so big for him. -Levi will leave your clothes folded neat and tidy at the edge of your bed for when you wake up.  -He really likes to make food or drinks for you. Levi learned the importance of food very early in life. Giving you something so valuable has become almost a whole new love language for him.  -Levi will make sure to take care of you when you're tired or sick- whether it's taking your socks off while you fall asleep or rubbing your back when you don't feel well- he'll be there through it all. -Although Levi's cleanliness and workaholic tendencies were around way before you he finds himself taking on a whole new workload with you around. He makes sure to keep your things tidy or whip you into making them tidy yourself. Physical touch -It takes Levi a long time to feel okay with your touch against his. -He thinks a lot of things like "I'm not worth enough to touch," or "is this really alright?" -But when he feels you melt into him he'll grow so soft. Suddenly his worries fade away as a small smile grows on his face. -At first touch made Levi's head spiral and made him dizzy. As he gets used to it it'll be such a casual thing for him that it's hard to believe he was ever touch-averse. -Levi really values physical contact on the battlefield when you or him are injured. Cupping your face, watching your eyes flutter open and wrapping you in a hug reminds him that you're here. You're alive. -Levi learns to love sleeping with you, combing the hair out of you face while he rubs circles into your waist.  -Touch makes Levi feel so alive- something he's considered dangerous with the risk of death around him- but with you, it makes him so happy. All of his reservations disappear the moment you first held his hand.

[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[sunnyshiftyy]

Actually crying in my prom dress - TE one shot

Book: TE 2, takes place on a saturday evening in february. TW: Cursing Rating: PG (just to be safe). It’s romantic, fluffy, angsty, comforting. Pairing: Beckett Harrington x f!MC Words: 2466 Summary: It’s the first time the couple attends a gala at the Harrington estate together, and just before the event starts, Estelle fully realises of the significance of this night. A/N: OC’s in my TE universe: click here. Want to read more? Here’s my masterlist with all the fics on it! You can also find sneak peeks of future fics on there. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics or TE content! Tags: @theclassycandy

And on that note, i hope you enjoy!

The charity ball for Magickal Wildlife Australia is one of the Harringtons' annual galas, for which a lot of people are anxiously hoping to get the invite. To the exceedingly wealthy, the neatly handwritten piece of cardstock is like the golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

There's something in the rich, magickal aristocracy that loves saving the exotic, the exclusive. Not to say that they don't have actual empathy and slide the organization a fat check just for social validation, no. But for most of high society, it's a big part of it. And also not saying that the Harringtons are in some way different, but somehow, they've used the old and new moneys' conscience against them to collect as much gifts as they can, for the charities that they really want to support. That's the trick. And that's how they can have it both ways.

Because if you have money, why not spend it on things you actually want to contribute to?

So here Mr and Mrs Harrington are, 15 minutes before doors. Checking up with Sam, their personal assistant, making sure that all the last minute preparations are in order. With this many eyes on them, it needs to be perfect. Though they’re not too worried about the inanimate factors in the equation. It’s the first time that both their children bring a date, and with the slight trouble they had the first time around -let’s not talk about Bruno, okay?- they can’t help but be a little uneasy. But they know Estelle is a polite girl, who will absolutely do her best. The only question is, will that be enough? The Sun-att has only met his parents one time before, very briefly. But those few minutes (and some defending from their offspring afterwards) were enough for the critical pair to form an opinion of her. Let’s say she’s lucky she’s such an attentive young lady. Not as well off as them, a tad shy, but talented and hard working. They’re hoping to get a more complete impression of her tonight. After all, if she can hold her own in front of a few hundred respected members of the magickal opulent, she might be capable of more than they thought.

Meanwhile, at the East wing of the estate, Beckett checks his watch while he walks into his bedroom.

“Hey, are you ready?” he asks. His eyes break away from the hands of the clock. He notices his bathroom door is wide open, and Estelle, standing in front of the mirror, her head tilted up and eyes fixed to a spot. She looks beautiful in the dress she chose a few weeks ago. It’s a simple, pink, floor length evening gown with some soft, flowy tulle as the outer layer. He’s taken aback by how natural it seems to look on her compared to the last time she wore it, in the boutique itself. Her shoulders tense, arms hesitantly touching the material, probably feeling out of place, out of her comfort zone. It reminded him of the countless times he had felt that way. And that made him appreciate her even more. Now,  it seems she’s accepted the piece of clothing as her own, or, made it her own.

“Yeah…” Estelle gets out. She’s so focused on not crying that her already weak lying skills deteriorate to non existing. She’s been on the verge of tears for a solid two minutes now. Just perfect timing, just after she did her makeup. Wonkily, for that matter. Her critical self commentary only makes it harder to keep her cheeks dry. This is a big deal. She needs to keep it together.

“..Okay… What... are you doing?” Beckett asks, confused by her strange posture. As he walks closer to the door opening, he remarks that her shoes are still sitting inside the box, on top of the neatly made bed. Estelle doesn’t move a muscle, except the ones of her eyes, blinking more than usual.

“Looking at the ceiling.” she says in a monotone voice, trying to keep somewhat of her composure. This is so stupid. Why is this so stressful? He’ll probably think she’s being stupid. Beckett steps up right beside her, and tilts his head up, searching for any anomaly on the smooth surface. Nothing. He glances back at his girlfriends face.

“It’s just a ceiling” he calmly remarks. Estelle presses her lips together and looks at him.

“I know.” She quickly notices his attire, and can’t help but smile a little. “You look good.” she casually comments. Beckett feels his face burn. He’s not good at taking compliments. At least it’s not about his academic achievements. He’s even worse at accepting those. He clears his throat.

“Uhm.. Thanks.” He stands there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Out of reflex, he straightens his lapels. Estelle turns back to the big, rectangular backlit mirror and stares herself in the eyes.

“Okay.” A deep breath leaves her lungs. “I can do this, I can do this…” she tells herself. She’s done harder things. She’s fought a fucking madman who wanted her and her sister dead. She wasn’t this wound up then.

“You’re nervous” Beckett states, just identifying her behavior now. Estelle rolls her eyes. He’s amazing at stating the obvious, this boy. And the fact that he’s talking about it only makes her muscles tense up more.

“Yes I'm nervous, Becky, please don't bring it up or I’ll start crying again..” she huffs annoyedly, waving her hands in front of her face in an attempt to dry her still-technically-not tears. Her shaky movements make him realize that, Gods, she ís really nervous. More than he expected her to be. He falls quiet, searching his brain for something, a solution, a logical answer. Anything to make her feel a little less on edge. A few seconds later, the answer shows itself.

“Do you want me to distract you?” he offers. That always helped him, back when he was younger. He didn’t realize it until he got far into his teens, but, why else would Katrina always sneak him away from the foyer, where he was sat in a stuffy chair, counting out the rings of the long, heavy burgundy curtains, again and again, to ‘show him something he must absolutely see!’? Their parents probably caught on fast, but since the siblings consistently returned on time, they let it slide.

“For what? The-” She opens her phone that’s sitting dangerously close to the edge of the sink. “-Seven minutes we've got left?”

“Unless you want to stare at the bathroom ceiling some more?” he comments indifferently. Estelle resists the urge to passive-aggressively say ‘Yes’ and ignore him for the coming 420 seconds. But she decides to drop her frustration and give in. She breathes out deeply, faces him and forms her lips into a line.

“Fine. Distract me.” Becketts’ expression suddenly changes to an excited grin. It’s not often that she  agrees to listen to his detailed explanations about any and every of his interests. She doesn’t know she just did, of course, but in some way, it still counts.

“Well, I’ve been reading…” Beckett begins. As he tells her all about the fascinating book he read over the course of the last few weeks, he saunters over to the bed and sits down, making Estelle do the same. At the start of his tangent, she listens halfheartedly, but the more he gets into it, and the more animated his expression becomes, the more she actually understands of the words that all but fly out of his mouth. A few minutes later, he concludes his story.

“That’s.. Cool, actually!” she enthusiastically comments. And she means it.

“I much prefer compelling but 'cool' is a word for it, yes.” He will just have to accept that the most interesting material in the whole magickal world is just ‘cool’ to this girl. The girl in question laughs. “Check the time again?” She reaches for her phone again, this time getting it out of that stupid clutch she had to have because… people use clutches? They fit practically nothing. Why do you need to carry that the whole night? Her hands are probably going to sweat.. Flattering.

“Two minutes to go..” she answers, her face falling into a frown. All the stress she partly forgot about just floods back into her brain.

“Okay, and you’re all set?” he checks, wanting to make sure no foolish mistakes are made. Beckett knows that this event could very well determine his parents’ whole demeanor in front of Estelle for a long time, if not forever. But he doesn’t want to tell her that straight up. And certainly not now.

“Yeah, I think I... Oh, my shoes!” She jumps up off of the bed and grabs the mid-height heels out of the box. They’re charmed to fit the wearer perfectly and not leave a single blister. That’s one of the amazing advantages of magick she never wishes to miss out on again. She slides them on one by one and sits down next to her boyfriend again. “Now our height difference is proportioned better!” she exclaims laughingly. He smiles. But just when he thought she’s relaxed a bit, Estelle drops her smile. “I’m so anxious…” she murmurs, watching her hands. She fiddles with the delicate golden bracelet Katrina lent her.

“You’ll be fine.” he says dryly, thinking about another strategy to distract her. The first one clearly didn’t work. Beckett follows her stare, and looks at her fidgety hands.

“I know. But I'm really not that good at making small talk with people, and I can't eat properly, or know any dances-” she rambles, words jumbling together by the lightning pace of her sentence. He knows that, if her words are going a million miles an hour, her brain is going even faster. And that could be a recipe for disaster. He quickly catches her gaze.

“Hey, calm down, calm down! I'm here to make sure everything goes as it should, okay?” he reassures her.

“I just don't want to make a fool out of myself...” she quietly confesses. Between the Harringtons’ approval and the rich peoples’ approval, she also needs to live up to her own standards and, most importantly, not embarrass herself in front of anyone, let alone the hundreds of people that are going to be attending tonight. Beckett leans over and wraps his arms around her.

“You won’t, Ellie, you won’t.” he softly comforts her. She lets him for a few seconds, but then pulls away. When she’s this frustrated and stressed, a hug is the last thing she needs. After a quick silence, she hears him laughing, and sees him trying to repress it, but failing tremendously. Unbelievable. Unbe-fucking-lievable. How dare he. She aggravatedly crosses her arms.

“What? Why are you laughing in my face?” she fumes, almost laughing herself by seeing his amused expression. This damn boy is lucky she loves him so much. He calms down slightly, but still has those smile lines around the corners of his eyes.

“I'm terribly sorry, but, it seems so unimaginable that you, an outgoing, adventurous, ‘unafraid to try new things’-person, are so scared of.. a party.” He never expected her to be this worked up over it. After all, his girlfriend’s the social one out of the two of them. She’s the one who introduced him to all her friends, the three she managed to make in just the first few weeks of college. She’s the open one, the outgoing one…

“A fancy party!” she protests.

“I know for certain the guests are going to love you.” Beckett sighs. They always do. Everyone always does.

“Yeah, because of you! Like Miss Lindsay.” Everybody here likes him. She’s just the girlfriend that happens to be there too. The guy sitting next to her shakes his head.

“Don't say that! People just.. like you. You're a very likable person.” he objects. She playfully scoffs.

“You're kinda biased on that one, Buckett.” He chuckles and looks down at his shoes. A deep shade of pink creeps on his face.

“You might be right about that.” he mumbles, just articulated enough for Estelle to understand. Beckett acknowledging she’s in the right isn’t a common phenomenon, because she usually isn’t, and even when she is, he doesn’t like to admit it, so every time it does happen, Estelle mentally pats herself on the back.

“Thanks. I feel a bit better now.” And she does. A little bit, but, at least she’s not a wreck. She looks her outfit over again before meeting her boyfriends’ eyes.

“I’m glad.” he says, genuinely smiling. She smiles back, and he feels his muscles relax. He didn’t even notice he was this tense.. The effect this girl has on him is astonishing. Estelle checks her phone again. It lights up and Beckett sees her screensaver appear. It’s still the same picture of them at Amorelia last year, throwing his change in the fountain. Her eyes go big and she swiftly stands up.

“Oh Gods, I think we should go!”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” he gets out, while he stands up too, straightens his tie again and walks towards the door.

“Hey, one more thing.” Beckett hears behind him. He sighs. Her indecisiveness makes him nervous. He swiftly glances at his watch again. They can’t be late to the first gala they attend together. He turns around. When he finds her face, she’s already smiling. “Can I get a good luck kiss?” Those words are enough for him to feel a little flutter in his stomach. He lovingly rolls his eyes and closes the distance between them, softly taking hold of her face and pulling it towards his until their lips meet. With the circumstances, he tries to make the kiss extra sweet and comforting. She deserves to be happy. After a few more seconds, he pulls away.

“It's nice not having to break my neck to kiss my girlfriend.” he casually comments, a little smug smile breaking through his seemingly serious expression.

“Is it? Well, that's the first thing these shoes are good for. Your posture.” Estelle giggles. Beckett laughs as he grabs her hand.

“Come on, silly, we're going to be late!” he grins, tugging her in the direction of the door.

“Okay, okay!” she snickers. As he looks back at her face, he catches a glimpse of her joyful smile. He feels all his adoration for her flooding his body. All she needs to do is be herself. If the people don’t like her for her, if his parents don’t like her for her, that’s unfortunate for them. Whether they like it or not, he likes her. Loves her. And nothing in this universe is powerful enough to change that.

Hope you enjoyed!

p.s. Also, should I not be shy and write a little spin off ‘Kat and Jules’ first gala’-flashback or something? That will make the reference clearer hahah. (I did it.)

P.p.s Should I write a part two meaning an actual gala one shot? I kind of avoided it here cause I didn’t have any ideas of what in the hell would be so interesting about a gala but I could pluck my brain a bit longer in summer..?

@choicesficwriterscreations