#and i try to only reblog conversations or added comments if they actually add something

[littleeyesofpallas]

I will never fucking understand blogs that just post shit from one series or one character or one actor even. Not even reblog, just shamelessly post unsourced shit. Sometimes it's not even related it's just some horseshit like "beautiful celebrities" and they'll take a day to spam stolen photos of one actress before moving on to the next one. Like motherfucker what is the point?

On the most obvious surface level you're not contributing jackshit. You're just regurgitating shit that someone else has already put out there. But then even on the purely braindead selfish level you aren't even effectively creating some personally curated gallery for yourself because your garbage blog can just as easily be replicated with a google image search. It's just a waste of space. Both digital storage and visual real estate. Just more garbage for real people to have to scroll through to get to things they actually want.

I normally reserve the "you're a human being who fails the turing test" insult for things like porn bloggers who only break character to post conservative rants in comment sections, who'd otherwise be entirely indistinguishable from porn bots, but there are completely nonsexually motivated people who do this shit too. Most prominently the kinds of losers who dedicate their entire free time and personality to mediocre pop singers.

Is it OCD? Is it a compulsion? Like you actually can't help but do this shit? Because that at least id almost have some sympathy for, but then I'd also expect a compulsive chronicler to want their shit better sourced and cited, not just tag bombed.

I know we're far past the days of crashing Usenet servers with the kind of primitive pseudo-ddos attacks that gave spam it's name, but it's just insane to me that as the internet has become MORE stringently policed and moderated, spam hasnt just not gone away, and hasn't just scaled with the internet as a whole, it's become The standard model of """content""" distribution/circulation. We don't navigate to an from points of content origin, we just swim through a dense sea of recent reblogs and reposts of shit that's already been out there in a hundred other iterations.

I don't have some kind of a proposed solution, but I just cannot fucking stand this bastardized horseshit version of the internet we've trapped ourselves in...

And I know we love to blame AI art for it right now, and obviously it is contributing to the insane acceleration of the problem, but well before AI art got involved we were already fast approaching the internet being completely unusable.

[curio-queries]

So, this original post was all about the undocumented usage of tumblr, I'd like to share a few of my opinions on the more cultural aspect surrounding some of these items.

(The word OPINIONS is important, these are just my personal viewpoints)

Comments/Likes/Reblogs: above, I detailed HOW tumblr functions regarding reblogs but the WHY it's important will come down to personal preference of each blogger. There's been a lot of vocal hate for Likes recently but there's nothing inherently wrong with using this function, it just depends on what the bloggers motivation is.

For example, I'm personally more motivated by discourse. I'm so excited when I see a comment on one of my posts. I love the back and forth in comments. (Some of you know how wordy I can get in DMs too but that's beside the point!) I genuinely get a little sad when I see an interesting post but I'm not able to leave a comment. I realize many bloggers do this because they want to encourage reblogs or the post is getting a lot of traction. Sometimes adding my comments via reblog feels like I'm taking the blogger's idea and using it to shout out at the world instead of having a conversation with them. I realize that's not how the culture of tumblr has grown around reblogs and I absolutely never think anyone that reblogs my posts has Ill intentions. I'm just saying personally, the comments feel more like having an actual conversation than reblogs do and that's a more motivating aspect to my personal presence on tumblr. I try to reblog when I specifically want to amplify the discussion, or when I have too much to add for more than a few comments. (That character count limit and the inability to edit are my actual nemesis.)

I also have absolutely no hate for the Like button. I use it frequently when I want to acknowledge that I agree with the post, that I've read it, or just to show that I support the poster. Usually when I don't have any actual words to say.

Fandom Rivalries: OK, let's be real here, rivalries can be fun. That's kinda the whole point. BUUUT it's also easy to fall into a place where genuine negativity and harmful behavior can blossom. As someone who spent decades surrounded by and caring for people with vastly different political viewpoints, let me share a little advice:

You will NEVER convince anyone to change their viewpoint by spouting 'reasoning' AT them.

There's a lot more to be said about the why behind this but it boils down to human nature and autonomy of thought. Once someone has decided on a viewpoint, the only way to change that viewpoint has to come from within themselves. And we won't trust anyone to influence our innerselves if we don't trust the speaker either as an expert or as someone that has our welfare as a genuine motivation (and even then, there's ways we justify not trusting ppl).

Suffice it to say, if you're spending your time with genuine heartache because 'The Others' just won't listen, I'd advise you to reflect on why you joined those spaces in the first place. Were you on a mission to try to convert and save as many 'lost souls' as possible? I doubt it. You joined that space because you were finding joy in something and were curious how others were experiencing the same thing. You wanted to know more about something. You wanted to engage with others that also knew about the thing.

Blog police/Cancel Culture: look, the fact that we're on tumblr in the first place means that we recognize there are alternate ways of enjoying life than the mainstream likes to imply. That also means that some ppl will enjoy something in a way that is different from yours. The idea of regulating how others utilize their space us actually problematic. The 'court of public opinion' via cancelling someone if they interact with others that may have disagreeable viewpoint is tantamount to fear mongering.

And yes, I understand the irony of this point in a post about other's behavior. I think a view to help keep from falling down the slippery slope of judgement is to view this discussion as behavior that I would like to exemplify myself rather than calling out others for. I don't claim to be a good example of these ideals but it's definitely something I'm trying for.

Tumblr cultural knowledge

The phrase 'cultural knowledge' is basically an insult and a criticism in my industry. If something isn't written down and shared in a way that's identifiable, accessible, and clear to the applicable individuals, it doesn't exist. Meaning that the correct usage will be lost as time and people change.

Here are a few things I've gleaned in my relatively short time of being an active tumblr user. (NOTE: 95% of my time here is via the mobile app). Please correct me if I've got anything wrong. I'd adore to see any that you've picked up as well.

Continue Reading Button: it's the last one in the tool bar. Looks like a zigzag line between two straight lines. I've added one to this post after this point. Even if you've selected the 'shorten long posts' option on your profile, that won't apply to reblogs. Save everyone's feeds and add it yourself to posts longer than three standard paragraphs.

Gifs: the search utility for gifs legit sucks. There is a logic applied but I can't say I've fully cracked it. What you CAN do if you want to add a specific gif to a post is paste the url of the gif's post into the gif search. Grab this via the three dots menu of any post, there'll be a copy link option. This will only grab the first image of that post though. BUT it will include the proper credit below the gif. Here's an example:

Gif credit: tapping the username below gif will open the source post.

Reblogs: the reason reblogs are so important for tumblr specifically is because the feed doesn't present posts to you outside of your parameters. Those parameters are mainly: 1) blogs you've followed and 2) tags you've followed. You reblogging a post gives it a chance to be seen again within the parameters you influence. So if you don't have any followers, you've got to add tags that ppl may have followed. If you don't use tags on posts, it can only be seen by those who follow you (theoretically, I've chatted with a few moots about the fact that we don't see each other's posts in the feed).

Post Edits: Reblogs don't sync with the original posts. If you edit a post, all of the reblogs will not update with the edits and will exist exactly as the post was when it was reblogged.

Was this helpful? I've got a few more oddities I've encountered but they seem more like workarounds to defects and I've tried to list the pain points I've personally noticed that seem to result from the intended design of tumblr.

[thetruemasterofgames]

Well alot of new people are here it seems so let me give a little insight to how post interaction works around here: Likes: Most platform this boosts in the alg and your friends can see you likes it not how that works here. Tumblr uses abit of a unique now but what use to be more common use of like back in the day. Likes only exist to show a form of agreeance or enjoyment but they do nothing for the op except blow up their notifs and maybe give a dopamine rush of number go up. This is why alot of artist here make info graphics saying you hate their post when you like it because it’s doing nothing to them then showing on their feed but telling them you don’t care enough to actually share it around.  Now you may be wondering “Well why do likes exist then?” Four reasons: 1. To allow the users to easilly backtrack to posts they enjoyed by going to their likes page. 2. For Tumblr to use to more customize ads toward you (yes believe it or not there was a time this hellsite had a healthy advertising network). 3.And this one is abit more prevalent than it use to be, To allow tumblr to edit your for you page to be more tailored to you in it’s algorithm 4. So people can embarrass the shit out of you if you are foolish enough to like dumb things AND have your likes public All in all likes are more for the user engaging then the creator of the post. Reblogs: Reblogs are the number one way to interact on this wasteland relic of the transition between web 1 and 2. Reblogs are basically you like the post you repost it  with your own comments if you want added on.  (fun fact you also use to be able to edit the post above yours before the John Green incident.) When you reblog the post above even if removed from the original blog will stay on your reblog so don’t worry about lost context when making a comment or addition. This is the number one way posts spread on this hellsite and really the only way (aside from like tumblr blaze now but that’s money) outside of outside sites sharing posts from here and trying to claim them. If you see a post you love, a post? Reblog. You think a post has good info? Reblog. Have something to add you think people should know? REEEEBLOGGGG!! This is the main way in showcasing your support for a creator and what they posted  (and helping keep the post from completely disappearing if you want to do that out of spite.) It’s why this site has alot of stuff that can be traced back easier than other sites  and one thing that I love is the reblog chains so you can trace how conversations progress. So you want something to spread or be kept around reblog it. Who knows when the origin may disappear. Replies/comments: Comments, also known as replies, are a relatively newer feature here. They allow you to make a comment on a post that people have to go out of their way to view. Most people use this to say things they are abit shy to have on their actual blog or to try and go after something without giving it the algorithm boost of reblogs. They don’t really do much and most the time people don’t really check these because alot of people don’t even remember they exist. HOWEVER it is a good way to leave feedback without keeping something on your blog if you want to go that route but it doesn’t help the op in the grander scheme. You also can’t track who the people are responding to unless they tag the person another flaw of this system. All in all likes are good for you and your algorithm Reblogs are good for the creator and preservation Comments are good for quick comments that you feel don’t need to be plastered on the larger aspect of the site sort of like a whisper without dming that a few people may spy on. Hope this helps some people out there in understanding how this site is abit different then others out there in interaction.and maybe help people see the reblog not like posts as more than just “op wants attention” it’s a sentiment I’ve seen floating because newbies don’t understand the site that much.

[boogiewrites]

Seeing Stars Part 7

Characters: Eddie Munson x OFC Star

Summary: Star tries to heal old wounds by nurturing the friendships she's unexpectedly found in Hawkins. She surprises the band with a crowd that what it lacks in numbers makes up for in enthusiasm. After the sexual tension between her and Eddie is openly discussed (and not only by them) she decides to ask him for what's been on her mind.

Comment & Reblog to let me know you like it and want more Eddie content!

Part 1 if you missed it!

Warnings/Triggers: NSFW. Sex. Rough Sex. Spanking. Light choking. Dirty Talk. Good boy/Bad Girl. The word whore is used. Mentions of a cream pie. Also cuddling and fluff.

Star made her way into Family Video with an excited pep in her step.

“Hey!” Robin waved from Behind the counter.

“Hello, my favorite Family Video employee.” She smiled and leaned on the counter.

“I heard that.” Steve said, coming from the new releases section.

“Hello to my second favorite.” Star added with a kinder tone.

She’d made frequent visits to the store a common occurrence. It was on her way out of town from work and since leaving the city she’d found new ways to occupy her time. Movies happened to be a great way to kill a chunk of time. It didn’t hurt that she liked both of the people who worked there. Steve and she were on good terms, choosing to ignore the drunken mess of a night they spent feeling each other up while she downed swigs of tequila. Robin happened to be in the same music class as Star. She’d befriended her with her off-beat muttered jokes and with the common knowledge of movies made conversations easy. So a trip twice a week to chat wasn’t out of the normal.

“Does that mean I’m third?” A floppy-haired Dustin comes from seemingly nowhere as he pops himself up on the countertop.

“Do you work here now?” Star asked.

“No.”

“Then you aren’t my favorite employee sorry.” She shook her head and he put his hand to his chest as if he were hurt.

“Ouch.”

“How old are you again?” She asked.

“Almost 15?”

“You’re my favorite almost 15-year-old.”

“Nice.” He bobbed his head, happily accepting the consolation prize.

“I’m glad you’re all here actually. I need to ask a favor.” She gave a forced smile and leaned her weight onto the counter.

“Yes, I can waive your late fees again, Jesus.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Not what it’s about.” She dismisses with a weave of her hand. “I wanted to do something nice.”

They all stare at her like she grew another head.

“Oh come on I’m not that mean.” She says in defense of herself.

“No, but a spoonful of sugar does make you easier to get down.” Robin says supportively.

“Look. Any chance Tuesday night you’re free?”

“We can if we change the schedule?” Steve looks at Robin.

“I'm free!” Dustin smiles.

“I wanted to get some people together at The Hideout Tuesday night. I’m trying to do something nice for the guys.”

“You mean Eddie?“ Steve smirks.

“I may have been a dick to him specifically but this would benefit all the members of Corroded Coffin.”

“I am not going to go watch them.” Steve said moving his hands back and forth.

“They aren’t bad! They’re surprisingly good!” She insisted.

“Have you seen Eddie play? He’s a damn savant on the guitar.” Dustin backs her up.

“A what?” Steve scrunches his face at Dustin.

“A savant. It’s the opposite of you.” He teased.

“We aren’t really into that heavy stuff.” Robin got the conversation back on track.

“I know but it’s so depressing to go and be the only one there and when I work and I can’t go I feel so bad. They work really hard. I know if some people would show up it’d mean a lot.”

“She’s got a point,” Dustin adds supportively. “Only thing Eddie cares more about than D and D is his band.”

“So we’re just all doing nice things for Munson now?” Steve said a bit bitter.

“Don’t be a sore loser.” Robin muttered and elbowed him.

“You don’t have to stay the whole time and they don’t play long, just a few songs.”

“Yeah, their songs are like 20 minutes long each.” Steve added.

“Not the covers.” Star offered with a shrug. “You don’t have to. But I’m trying. He’s been a really great friend ever since I showed up here and I feel like I’m just a giant pain in the ass to him all the time. I’d like to do something for him to show I’m not a shitty friend.”

“You’re not a shitty friend!” Dustin quickly added.

“You made me that scarf that was school colors so I wouldn’t freeze in the bandstand,” Robin added. “And you brought us that pizza that one night. Remember?” She swung her head to Steve. He sighed.

“That pizza was damn good.” He said quietly, wistfully thinking about the deep dish she’d made when they’d mentioned not having it before.

“Pizza?” Dustin’s curiosity was piqued.

“She makes this deep dish pizza thing it’s like lasagna but it’s pizza and it’s all cheesy and meaty and you have to eat it with utensils it’s so thick.”

“I want a deep dish.” Dustin pouted.

“I’ll make you boys food for Hellfire one night. How about that?”

“You’re a regular mother hen.” Robin chuckled.

“I know I’m not the easiest nut to crack. I came with zero expectations of finding friends but you’re all great and I want to return the favor.”

“Steve’s like a dog if you feed him you’ll never get rid of him.” Robin tried to add sweetly.

“Rude.” Steve murmured.

“We’ll try to be there.” Robin steps on Steve’s foot.

“Could you bring Mike too?” Star asked Dustin. “I don’t think his sister would be too into it.”

“Yeah, Nance wouldn’t.” Steve chuckled.

“I can get Mike.”

“What about Lucas? I’ve not had the chance to get to know him since he’s been taken in by the basketball team. Would he come?”

“If he doesn’t have practice. I’ll ask.”

“And that cute little redhead?” Star inquired.

“Max. I don’t know. Probably not. She’s been distant. She turned us down for Hellfire too.”

“Shame. I always liked redheads. They’re good in a fight.” Star smiled.

“She would agree with that.” Dustin had a sad smile for a moment.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I need one more thing. And only you can help me, Steve.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” He quirked a brow up.

“It’s almost Halloween. I need recs for something to scare me.”

“You looked in a mirror?” Everyone including Star gave varying degrees of groans and Robin threw a pen at him. “I’m kidding! Geez, you all know I’m kidding. C’mon, I’ll show you all the gross stuff you weirdos are into.”

-

The walls shook with the high number the volume knob was turned to in Eddie’s trailer. Star was waiting for him to get out of the shower so she could get him ready for his show tonight. She was feeling a bit antsy, unsure of how it would go while simultaneously being excited if things went right. She didn’t do her makeup very often, usually on a special occasion or when she was feeling particularly feminine. She had more experience with doing her hair, and tonight she had her scrunched up in waves and feathered, a ’70s throwback with a modern twist. She was giving herself some nice dark smokey eyeliner and shadow, something she was hoping to get the hang of before trying it on Eddie. She’d said she wanted to dress him up tonight and gave no reason. He was into it, and luckily she didn’t have to explain further. Eddie was a sucker for dramatics so he was happy to experiment with her.

Star was focused, lighter held in one hand on the desktop as she leaned over the edge and tried to perfect her eyeliner with the other.

Eddie came into the room, towel around his waist and hair wet. He stumbled as he walked in, toe hitting the floor to stop himself as he walked head first into the sight of Star bent over his desk. It’d been a sight he’d imagined very vividly before when he was alone. Since she didn’t immediately notice him he let himself enjoy the view. She was wearing a different shirt than he’d seen her in last, this one much smaller and tighter than what he was used to seeing her in. She loved her layers, and seeing the shape of her body wasn’t something, especially now in the winter, he got to see very often. She usually wore baggier pants, not jeans, or her long skirts with the occasional dress thrown in. She had a trunk full of sweaters and cardigans she’d made for herself and she usually wore them at the same time, clashing colors and all. She had the old men’s t-shirts, most stolen from her brother she wore but they too hid her figure. But she was in a tight black women's fit tee and skin-tight high-rise jeans tonight. She kept her signature lace-up boots that reminded him of something out of Victorian times. They went above her ankles and had little flowers embroidered on them. He figures she’d probably found them in a second-hand store like she had the majority of her clothes. He let out a sigh at the sight of her wide-set hips and self-titled fat ass snug in light wash denim. He wondered if she was wearing any panties under them. He had to stop himself before it became too obvious what he was imagining while only wearing a towel.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans like that.” Is how he chose to announce his entrance into the room to her.

“Because I’ve not worn them around you before.” She licks her finger and smooths off the edge of her eyes. With her focus now ended she fluttered her eyes to reset her mind and look at the intrusion. She met his eyes in the mirror without turning. “Oh.” She said aloud and didn't mean to. He watched her reaction and he couldn’t have been more pleased about it. Her jaw clenched, fingers fumbling with her lighter as she opened and closed her mouth with a flush of pink to her cheeks. He sees her chest expand in a deep inhale that exits through her slightly opened mouth. “Is that what you’re going to wear?” She finally cracked a smile.

“I considered it.” He begins with a smile that pulls one corner of his mouth more than the other. “But I don’t think you’d be able to get anything done if I did.” He’d moved to his bed, the pile of clothes he’d had laid out to put on. She sees him smirking through the damp curtain of hair.

“Whenever I walk into your room naked and wet with only a towel around my waist and we see how you respond. THEN you can give me shit for it.” She poked her fingers holding the eyeliner his way.

“Please do.” He shook his head and the smile on his face showed how pleased with himself he was.

“Walking in here like that is BAIT Munson.”

“Bait, huh? For what?” He holds his boxers in his hand and faces her, shaking out his hair.

“Why was I ever nice to you?” She teases, turning her upper half toward him. “Now you’re entirely too cocky and I don’t appreciate it.”

“You appreciate my c-“

“DON'T!” She pointed again and raises her brows. “I regretted my choice of words as soon as it came out of my mouth.”

“Oh I’ve came in your-“

“Put your clothes on you whore!” She shouts and kicks an empty can his way.

“I’m shy.” He covered his crotch and shied away and she let out a shoulder-shaking laugh.

“I’ll finish my makeup, I won’t look, go ahead.” She waves her arm at him and turns back, lighter on the pencil for a moment before pretending to do what she just said.

He either didn’t care or he believed her and either she was fine with. She got to see him stark naked. She felt her chest tighten and stopped pretending to do her makeup, she held her hand by her face and watched his reflection in the mirror. He was broad-shouldered and lean, looking like the picture of some Grecian statue makers muse. He was skinny but there was a certain scrappiness to his build she appreciated. He looked masculine without looking macho, a touch of softness thrown into a pale svelte form. She swallowed at the sight of him soft, nestled in a thatch of dark hair that trailed up his stomach. A light smattering in the center of his chest near the tattoos stacked on the side. As he pulled on his clothes she snapped her eyes away and touched up her hair needlessly. A controlled chaos of fluffy edges and waves was what she was going for anyway.

“Alright I’m decent.” he announced, sitting on the edge of his bed and putting on his sneakers. His usual denim with holes ripped from wear and not bought that way fit him snug. He wore a tank top, arms on show.

“You? Never?” she smiled and finally turned, her back to the mirror, her backside resting against the edge of the desk. “I did have a little surprise.” she tried to not look like she was purposely posing herself in a flattering way to show off her shirt.

“Yeah?” his head pops up after he’s done tugging on his shoes. “Aw, shit.” his face lit up and she perked up, standing straight and pulling down the hem of her shirt so her chest wasn’t distorting her work.

“I know you guys have some but I wanted to make my own. I’ve not done any DIY stuff like this in a while. Good to knock the dust off.”

“It’s sick, dude.” he raises and moves to genuinely examine her shirt and not her braless chest. He could behave given the right circumstances, and a Corroded Coffin shirt was certainly that. “How’d you do that?”

“Bleach and a q-tip,” she explained. “Also this on the back.” she swished her hair away and showed the outline of a coffin she’d drawn on the back. Little drips of bleach made it loo particularly gnarly. She turned back around. “The little drips looked cool.” she touched them as she chattered about the shirt.

“You’ve even got a coffin around it.” his face was adoring, a warm smile as he took in what felt like a present for him even if it wasn’t.

“I was tired of not having something. You guys work so hard, I thought it was time to make something new I could wear out. Rep the merch.” she chuckled.

“It’s cool as hell.” he nodded. “Can you make me one?”

“Same kind of shirt too?” she smirked.

“If it’s that cool I don’t give a shit, I’ll wear it.”

“I might make it. I’d like to see you in a tiny little cropped shirt like some ’70s stud.” she laughed.

“I mean you could take this one off and I’ll-” she smacked his cheek lightly.

“Shut it.” she snorted out. “Sit down, loverboy, I need to start working my magic.”

-

She’d moussed up his hair, giving it some definition and perpetual wet look like the guys she knew he idolized. She spent her time fluffing both him and his hair up while he got doted on. She figured hyping him up before a show was a good call.

“We’re making good time,” she said, grabbing his wrist to look at his watch. “Now for the final touches.” she spun around his desk chair and straddled his lap. His eyes went wide for a second. “I’ve gotta get close for the eyeliner,” she explained. “Don't get too excited.” she giggled while lighting the end of the pencil with a lighter.

“You’re gonna blind me.” he complained.

“This is how you do it!” she insisted. “You heat it and you can smoke it out. It’s how I did mine. Don’t be such a baby. You’re a big mean metal head remember?”

“I prefer arson.” he gave her a defensive look she knew was playful. She took his hand and held the kohl pencil tip the back of it.

“Not hot. See?” He grunted in response and she resituated herself and loomed over him. She grabbed him by the chin. “Now close your eyes and hold still.” She began dragging the eyeliner across his lash line.

“Under different circumstances that would be a lot more exciting to hear.” she stopped and laughed.

“Don’t make me laugh, I’ll mess up.”

“Can’t help it. I’m hilarious.” his dead plan delivery of the statement made her shake again.

“Stop talking.” He grunted in response.

“It kinda hurts.” he mumbled.

“It’s the wood on the pencil. I’ll sharpen it.”

“I don’t want it sharper!” he whined.

“It sharpens the black part, calm down.” she shook her head at him. Quickly she had his jaw tight in her hand and was back to concentrating.

“Uh… are we interrupting something?” a familiar voice from behind asks.

“Yeah, she’s trying to blind me.” Eddie complains.

“He’s being a fuckin baby about the eyeliner!” Star raised her voice, knowing it was the other band members making their way over to help load equipment.

“Oh good.” she jears Jeff sigh.

“I thought we’d walked in on you guys screwin' around.”

“Huh?” Star’s nose scrunched up and she turned to meet Gareth’s face.

“You're uh…” motions his finger up and down at her straddling Eddie in his chair.

“Oh.” she looked down and started to laugh. “Right.” she shrugged and turned back to Eddie. “I had to get close to put this on him and he won’t sit still.”

“So she sat on me like some damn Amazonian!” Eddie protested loudly.

“You’d be lucky for me to crush your pelvis.” she laughed.

“Hell, maybe we should’ve taken her up on doing our makeup.” Gareth smirks.

“You want to? I can.” she offers while licking her thumb and evening out Eddie’s now shadowy-lined eyes.

“Gross.” he mumbled.

“You’d pay for me to spit on you, hush.” she shoved his shoulder and stood. It got a chuckle out of the boys and a grin from Eddie. She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“I don’t think we’ve got the time to do everyone.” Eddie added, standing and moving to the mirror to see Star’s handiwork.

“Woah! Is that a Corroded Coffin shirt?” Jeff exclaimed.

“Oh shit, yeah! check it out!” Star turned quickly and chimed in. Soon the subject had passed and Eddie got to let out a tiny mental exhale. He hadn’t liked the idea of Star straddling the other guys, even if it was to do makeup. He’d unpack that later.

-

Star was smoking outside the front of The Hideout, the boys were in the back and all setup. She’d rode with Eddie and held his guitar for him so it didn’t have to go in the back of the van.

She saw a car full of people pull up and she tried not to show her excitement even if she wanted to bounce on her heels a bit.

“C’mon ya heathens.” Steve groaned, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike in tow.”

“You brought the whole family.” Star beamed.

“Being the only one who can drive kinda blows sometimes.” Steve sighed.

“Thanks,” she says sincerely, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. “They’ll love this. And I really appreciate it too.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me.” he subtly smiles.

“I’m trying to not be such a stone-cold bitch.” she grins and takes a final drag.

“Oh, I know you aren’t. I’ve babysat tequila Star.” he teases.

“And again I’ll apologize for that.” she frowned.

“Nah, I’m just giving you shit about it. You’re cool.” he shook his head. “It was uh, pretty fun up until the whole almost throwing up on me part.” She rubbed her face and groaned.

“Yeah it was.” she scrunched her nose up in embarrassment but gave him a rather cute smile to accompany it.

“Let’s not leave the underage kids unaccompanied in the bar please?” Robin called out from the doorway.

“Our voice of reason.” Star holds her hand out for Steve to go ahead.

“If she’s our voice of reason we’re screwed.”

-

The splay of emotions on the guys’ faces as they took the stage was something Star wished she could’ve captured. Six people, by any usual standard, not much, clapped and cheered as they walked out and that was a first. Star and the 3 younger boys all screamed and clapped and wooed aggressively. Robin and Steve stood propped against the edge of a booth and clapped like two parents watching their rowdy children out of the floor. Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he looked down bashfully as Dustin screeched his name. The other handful of people in the bar were very confused by the attention but the bartender was laughing to herself.

“Uh.” Eddie cleared his throat speaking into the mic. “Wasn’t expecting this.” he grinned and looked down to fidget his fingers on the amp cord. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

“Hell yeah!” Dustin screamed through cupped hands despite being less than 15 feet from the stage. Star snorted laughing as she bumped him with her hip.

“Gettem Eddieee!” Lucas chimed in, a shy but cheerful face while he joined in. The enthusiasm was contagious among the group.

Star danced to everything, Dustin joining her for most of it. Mike and Lucas took the cool route and head banged. Star and Dustin knocked heads while bent over and trying to swing their hair while catching each other when they started to sway and fall.

“We’ve been practicing this one.” Eddie panted into the mic, the sound reminding Star of the times they’d been together alone. “This one is for Star. That idiot in the black shirt who’s going to give herself a concussion.” he grinned.

“THAT’S ME!” she shouted and laughed with her whole body.

“She makes me listen to this song every time she’s in my van even though it’s my van and I should be in charge of the music. But at least her music taste isn’t shit.” he gives a nod and her favorite Dio song starts and she turns to Dustin, slapping hands together because she knows he likes it too. She got lost in it, remembering the time in her trailer teaching Eddie to dance. She mouthed or sang every word. Dustin mimicked the guitar as Eddie shredded the solo. The stolen glances between Eddie and Star weren’t exactly obvious but while he sang and she recited every word back to him there was a certain pull they could feel toward each other. It was full of gratitude and affection and it amped up his performance and her heartbeat.

“You gotta admit. They’re pretty cute.” Robin smirked. She and Steve watched the others act like adolescent monkeys and fall all over each other on the dance floor.

“Yeah, the buttheads are having a good time.”

“Not what I meant.” Steve turned his face to Robin who was still wearing her smirk. “Star?” she spoke quietly, knowing they couldn’t be heard by the shouting group over the music. “I know it makes you the loser in this situation but I think she and Eddie are pretty cute together.”

“Oh, they aren’t together.” he sounded oddly certain.

“You still holding out hope?”

“No.” Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. “She’s cool. She’s ya know… she looks good but she’s not long-term girlfriend material.”

“And that’s what you’re looking for these days?”

“Apparently so.”

“Oh?”

“She and I had a great time, don’t get me wrong. Once you have a set of hips like that on you it changes you.” he chuckled. “But I… I don’t know. There’s not enough in common there. She’s complicated.”

“A children's menu maze is complicated for you Steve, how bad can she be?” Robin laughed.

“When she was drunk she was talking about things.”

“As one does.” Robin shrugged.

“I don’t know if she was talking about Eddie or someone else. She was upset about something. But she wouldn’t answer me when I tried to figure out what.” he subtly frowns. “I don’t think she knows she likes Eddie.”

“Do you think she knows he likes her? Seems pretty obvious.”

“They’re tight as thieves, they’re best friends.”

“Ah.” Robin nodded. “So are we thinking they’re like us?”

“No? I don’t know.”

“Guy’s got some great hair. Wearing makeup…” Robin adds with a shrug. “Or her, I mean, you said it the first time you saw her.”

“Guy does have some major hair. The whole…look suits him.” Steve nodded in agreement. “I mean me and her ya know…”

“Doesn’t mean she’s strictly dickly.” Robin giggled.

“She was kissing on him and saying she missed him when he picked her up from my place, though. But she is a bit of a flirt.”

“She’s so reserved before you get to know her, makes sense she’d be the opposite when she’s drunk though right?”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s hard to tell. I don’t know him well enough to say it’s more than friends, but he’s protective as hell over her. Dude tried to fight me when he showed up.”

“You know outcasts have to protect one another.”

“True.” he nodded, contemplating. “I guess it’s none of my business really.” he looked down the floor.

“Also true.” Robin nodded in agreement. “But it’s fun to guess.” she grinned.

“This must be how people talk about us.” he broke into a less serious face.

“At least we know our deal.” Robin shrugged.

“Feels like that’s the only thing I know most days.” Steve sighed.

-

Star had to take a break eventually, sitting down and letting the boys take over the floor. She wished this could be every week, having people to dance and be excited with. She settled onto a tabletop with a bounce, sipping from a glass bottle of soda. She was catching her breath as they played an Iron Maiden song she’d heard originally in Eddie’s van. It’d become a favorite and she let the buzz from the amps so close vibrate her insides with a content sigh. She felt a pleasant moment of being alone in the small crowd of people while watching Eddie. She’d seen him swear and stomp, shouting and pulling his hair at attempts to learn riffs he was now executing flawlessly. She had an odd swell of pride for him. Seeing him in his element sparked the fire he’d ignited the first time she’d seen him play on stage. This time felt different as she reflected on the heat inside her watching him play gave her. She knew him now, knew what his body looked like and what it felt like against hers. His face was stern and concentrated, eyes on fingers as he smoked the neck of the guitar. His nose would twitch, his pointed tongue out either to focus or an exclamation of his enthusiasm for what he was playing with a dramatic opening of his mouth and a shout. His leg up on a speaker, he thrust his hips slowly as he eased into every growl of his guitar. The eyeliner and wet hair did suit him. It made him look older, it took the doe out of his big brown eyes. He was less prey and more predator. She liked to think her attention to him helped him hone in on this confident part of himself a bit more. She wondered if he was as happy with himself as she was with him.

For as focused as he was, now having people to watch him, he didn’t want to fuck up in front of them. But he still had the occasional tug at his focus in the back of his mind about Star. He gasps, mouth open after nailing a solo and switching back to rhythm giving him a chance to look at her. She’d been making him smile all night, even if he tried to hide it to keep his hardened exterior in place. He found her sitting and staring at him, immediately locking eyes the moment he took them off his guitar. His smile lines deepened, eyes bright despite the black surrounding them for a moment. He didn’t hold it too long. She thought he held it just long enough before looking back down and his smile slowly faded as he continued to play. He oozed confidence to her in that moment. She wondered if he could feel her watching or could read her mind as he met her gaze. She didn’t mind much either way. Maybe it would make what she had planned later fall into place easier if he could

-

They'd all hung out in the back, sharing cigs and friendly banter before Steve hauled everyone off. On the ride, home Star spilled her plan to get people to show up. Eddie wasn’t happy with the fact that he was driving because he wanted to kiss her for it. He didn’t know if kissing her out a rush of admiration was crossing a line. But what else was he supposed to do when she was beaming at him with a teeth showing smile and bright eyes as the street lamps shone into them as they passed.

“When did you get so sweet, huh?” He asked with a nod of his chin.

“Same time you did.” a more precocious smile comes across her face, and she settles into the seat, leaning toward him.

“Now I have to figure out what to do for you.”

“Do for me?” she turns her face his way, watching his hair slowly waft from the cracked window.

“Yeah, you did something nice. I need to do something nice back.”

“You’re already nice.” she smiled. “This isn’t transactional. We’re friends. Friends do things for each other. I’ll need a favor eventually and you’ll do it and then you’ll need something sometime and I’ll do it. You don’t have to pay me back.” she shook her head.

“What if I need a huge favor?”

“How big we talking?”

“Huge.” he grins.

“As big as your dick?” she asks with raised brows and he lets out a chest-shaking laugh.

“Bigger.”

“As big as my ass?” she joins in on the giggling, leaning over the chair arm with faux shock on her face.

“Bigger!” he smiles.

“Well shit. That’s colossal.” she settles back in and snorts. “Eh, I’d do it.” she shrugged casually.

“What if it was illegal?”

“Psh. Not even a favor for you that’s a treat for me.” she grinned.

“What if I needed you to help me bury a body?”

“I’ve got shovels.” she turned her face back toward him and they shared a sweet smile. “I’ve got your back, Munson, don’t worry.” she shook her head and patted his arm, extending it awkwardly across the space between his bucket seats. He slapped his hand on top of hers before she could recoil it giving it a supportive rub.

“And I’ve got your ass- I mean your back. I’ve got your back, too.” The dumb joke made her burst out in laughter, her hand pulling away from his to cover her face. The only other person to make her laugh like that was Dustin and it’s because they all shared the same punny, immature sense of humor. He had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road. He would’ve rather watched her laugh.

-

“That’s got it.” She dusted her hands off, standing in his doorway as she declares the unloading of his equipment was finished. They’d barely turned on the lights before rushing to haul everything inside. A lamp in the living room and one in his bedroom were the only sources of light in the trailer.

“All the babies are put to bed.” He says hanging up his prized Warlock onto the guitar holder on his mirror. He caressed it like he might a woman, following its curves before letting go.

“You want a beer?” She asked half bent in the doorway unzipping her boots and taking them off.

“Are you staying?” He turned quickly, seeing her shoes already being tossed by his nightstand.

“I had planned to. Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” He answered quickly with a low brow that seemed to take offense to the idea he might not want her to. “You don’t stay here that often, we're always at your place.” He tries to explain with a motioning hand. “S’ nice to have you here instead.”

“I like your place. Bigger bed.” She smiled and turned. “You want me to bring a can or the whole thing?” She asked, making her way in bare feet into his linoleum kitchen.

“Ones good.” He called out as she heard rustling from his room. “Shit.” He whispered to himself.

Eddie moved around his room frowning, he grabbed his sheets and shook them, giving his pillows a sniff before trying to make it look decent. He grabbed the cheap cologne on his dresser and sprayed the bed, rubbing the sheets and pillows. He hadn’t expected her to stay after the show. He was wondering if he should try to better conceal the magazines on the floor that were covered with tits and ass. He didn’t have time to decide before she reappeared.

She sways back in, her hips bumping lightly into the doorframe as she makes a quick turn to his bed, and tossed him a can, cracking one for herself.

“The only thing that could’ve improved the show tonight would’ve been if we could’ve gotten beers at the bar.”

“At least we got 'em now.” He chugged some back and burped. He pats his stomach afterward, a laugh coming from Star at his childishness. “I’d say sorry but you know I’m not.” He gave a dopey closed mouth grin.

“Goober.” She snorted into her can.

“Did you catch the new Iron Maiden song we played?” he asked remembering excitedly and moving to his record player.

“I did!” She nods supportively. “I’d been listening to Piece of Mind a good deal lately. Good choice. Flight of Icarus has been stuck in my head. I like that solo. It’s got that repeating bit then it builds. Very sexy of them.” She chuckled.

“You probably still have the tape don’t you?”

“I think so.”

“Shit.” He finished his beer and sits it on his dresser immediately forgetting about it. “I wanted to put it on.”

“Play any one of your 100 other cassettes.” She takes another drink and sits the beer on his nightstand. “Put on Dio.”

“You heard what I said tonight. You’ve almost played that one out.”

“For good reason. It’s sexy.” She grinned and walked over to look at his collection with him.

“Sexy?”

“Do you not think metal is sexy?” He turned to look at her to find her serious. He blinked and quirked up a brow in thought. “You mean it doesn’t make you wanna fuck? You put on Little Lover and you don’t wanna get nasty?” She chuckled.

“Little Lover is barely metal.” He purses his lips and shakes his head.

“I love my dirty rock and roll what can I say? Okay, you elitist, What about… Fever? Judas Priest?”

“You’re forgetting Fuck Like a Beast.”

“Fuck you’re right.” Her shoulders lowered and she started looking for the WASP cassette. “That album Fucks, man. It’s got L.O.V.E. machine too. Any song talking about astrology will get me going.” She grins and plucks it out. “I mean they’re no Coven but” she shrugs.

“Coven gets a pass.” He points out taking the cassette and putting it in.

“That’s the correct answer.” She smirked and tapped his nose.

“Without Coven, we wouldn’t have Dio.”

“You’re sexy when you know what you’re talking about.” She tilted her head and propped her hip on his stereo stand. He glanced at her and a boyish smile came across his face as he messed with the cassette player.

“Want to hear me talk about D and D?” He grinned.

“I’m more interested in why you looked at me like I had two heads when I said metal was sexy.”

“I guess I never thought about it that way?”

“Does music not mess with your body and make you feel things?”

“Sure but if I was listening to something while fucking it was because that’s what happened to be on, I didn’t fuck because of the music.”

“So you’ve never been alone, had some drinks or smoked, and had a song hit you just right and you get horny?” He thinks for a moment with his eyes darting around the room.

“Like what?”

“Led Zeppelin gets me horny as hell.” She states blatantly.

“Okay yeah, I get that.” He laughed. “Which album? And don’t answer all of them.” He then took his turn to tap her on the nose.

“That’s like asking someone to pick their favorite child.” She exhaled and thought about it. “Depends on the mood you’re going for. Maybe Two? It’s a bit slower though as it goes. But then there’s Physical Graffiti. That one is some primo riding music .” She emphasizes with pinched fingertips. “It’s a little grittier, bluesy, and romantic. Yeah, I’ll say Physical Graffiti.”

“Physical Graffiti it is.” He puts up his hands and pulls it from the collection, having not started the prior choice of WASP.

“I know you like WASP better you don’t have to change it.”

“I’ve not listened to this through in a long time.” The opening track of Custard Pie starts and Star narrows her eyes at him.

“Is it presumptuous of me to assume you’re trying to make me horny by playing this?”

“No.” he kept his facial expression subtle, like holding his cards close to his chest.

“Is correct a better choice?” She leaned towards him and grinned. “If it were… I’d find it rather ironic.” She moves away from the stereo and walks away a few feet closer to the end of his bed. “Because if you think that after watching you on that stage tonight I wouldn’t already be turned on you’d be wrong.” Now that got his attention. He turned around after messing with the dials and waited her out with an expression that was up to no good. “You keep getting better every time I watch you up there, Munson. And I don’t mean just your guitar skills. Let me be perfectly clear, you’re getting closer to frontman guitarist hot and it’s concerning.”

She watched the confidence grow in his body language as she spilled out her honest reaction. “So you had ulterior motives for deciding to stay?” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached her. He’d gotten comfortable down to his black tank top and jeans without the usual hardware attached.

“Maybe.” She lilted. “What if I did?”

“I’d say I felt the same watching you in the crowd tonight. The way you move makes it hard to concentrate. Especially when it’s something I wrote.” He has a subtle smile that shows more in his eyes than on his lips. “Felt that way before the show too. And after. I mean look at you.” He brought a hand out to put on her waist. “I like how you dress, don’t get me wrong, but getting to see your body like this is distracting.” He admits, looking her over.

“You like my body, Eddie?”

“Do I like it?” He huffed out a laugh “Yes! You fuckin’ serious?” He squeezed the smallest part of her waist ever so slightly and let his hands run down to the swell of her hips.

“I like yours too you know.” She let out a small sigh and let her hands move to his bare upper arms. “I’d like to see more of it. And not just in the reflection in the mirror.”

“Can I see more of you?” He asks quietly, almost politely.

“You want to?” She looked up at him since he towered over her so close.

“How’s is that even a question?”

“I’m feeling needy tonight.” She shifted her hips. “It’s been so long for me. Even longer than I’ve wanted it so bad. Is it alright if I want to fuck you tonight?” The way she asked sounded almost sweet but her eyes were anything but.

“You sure?” His face softens, eyes half-lidded and looking at her chest. “It’s a little… unceremonious don’t ya think?” She hummed with a closed-lip smile.

“Eddie honey this isn’t my first time.” She shook her head and ran her hands up his chest. “I don't want roses, I want you.” she grabbed a fist full of the neck of his shirt and pulled him to her. It wasn’t hard for her to feel the rush with Track 2 playing in the background.

She kept one hand ahold of his shirt and the other moving from his collarbone to his nape to feel his hair. He groaned and hunched over into the kiss on impact and didn’t hesitate to slide both hands down and get a firm grab of her ass. The pull of his hands lifts her to her tiptoes, leading her to wrap her arms around his neck. A greedy hand gives a little smack to one cheek as his other hand slips his fingers under the hem of her shirt to feel the bare skin waiting for him under it. The feel of his blood-hot palms on her skin causes a small moan to escape into the still indulgent and slow kiss they share. Star’s hand travels back down after toying in his curls. She grabs his chest with two hands and proceeds to feel him up. A harsh brush of her thumbs over his nipples causes a hesitant gasp in him. She hastily moves to shove her hands under his shirt, hands kneading his waist, chest, and back like a cat with her long nails. Following her lead, he boldly surges both hands upward to her ribs to pause and squeeze, cupping her body under the curve of her breasts. Once his hands clutch the hanging weight of her chest they both exhale, breaking the kiss for a brief moment.

“Off.” she simply states, starting the skinning of his shirt off him and his strong arms pull the rest of his head. “You want the honors?” she smirks and tugs at the hem of her shirt. He wastes no time with the thin fabric, pulling it off her and letting it join the rest of his clothes on his bedroom floor. She was desperately craving the feeling of skin to skin, but unlike in the way she wanted it, he gave it to her by bending down and immediately taking her nipple into his mouth, one warm bare arm wrapped around her and a large ringed hand grasping her other breast. He made more noise latched onto her than he had when they kissed, feeling the grip of his fingers hard to her skin as he sucked away. He was just as desperate as she was for an intimate connection. He was less confident than she was and too shy to ask for it outright. He started to get his fill of his severely depleted touch compulsion by shoving his face into her chest and pressing her against him. She coddled him for a bit, breathing slow and relaxed as he sucked, and with each jolt of pleasure, she let herself moan and melt. She cradled his head and pushed his mop of hair back from his face where it’d stuck from the previously earned sweat from the show.

“C’mon Eddie.” She purrs, his eyes looking into hers while he keeps his tongue vehemently on her nipple with an open heavy breathing mouth. “I’ve got a better idea for you to suck on my tits.” She pulls his hair gently to move his face away and a small helpless sound escapes him. “You like that?” A wicked bright smile appears on her face.

“Uh-huh.” He exhaled from his still open mouth. She maneuvered his head up to kiss him then stood him up before letting go.

“Good to know.” She took him by his shoulders and turned him, his back to the bed. “You like it a little rough too?” She sounded patronizing but he liked that even more.

“Yeah.” He gave a lop-sided grin.

“You like being a baby boy? Getting pushed around?” Her lips pout at him while she undoes his jeans.

“Wuh-uh-juh-“ he stuttered and she couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“I’m trying to see what you’re into Eddie.” She less directly explained. She pats his cheek. “You have a safe word?”

“Are we gonna be doing stuff that requires a safe word?” His eyes went a bit wide then she pulled down his jeans and he took the cue to strip off.

“Safe words are good for anything. But I will warn you, if I’m in the right headspace I might slap you or something and I don’t want to hurt you.” He blinked blankly for a moment.

“How hard?” His chin pushed into his neck in question.

“Turn around and get on the bed.” She grinned. He side-eyed her playfully cautiously and she motioned for him to turn. He obeys and she smacks his cute little ass as she crawled up the bed. He did it quickly, flopping onto his side and watching her. “About that hard.” She shrugged.

“Barely felt it.” he shook his head and smiled, hair moving behind his shoulders.

“What kind of dirty talk do you like?”

“You could say fuckin anything to me when you’re naked and I’m gonna agree.” He made her laugh but she kept slow movements with her hands to take her jeans off as he followed them intently.

“You like being the bottom then? One who gets all loved up, fucked, and roughed up.” She spoke with an anticipatory cadence, hands sliding under the waist of her jeans and slowly sliding them down her hips.

“I’m a big fan of all those things.” he grins and watches the swell of her hips slowly become visible to him. His cock jumped at the anticipation of finally seeing her naked. “Holy shit.” his voice inflected upward, not exactly the praise she’d expected. “You’ve got a tattoo.” he sat up to lean forward and look closer. He put a hand to her hip, thumb rubbing over the small star on her butt cheek.

“Oh, right.” she chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

“Star’s got a star.” he leaned forward to take the edge of her jeans and pull them down over her ass to kiss the small outlined tattoo. He made a small hungry sound and held both her hips and another more lingering kiss was planted.

“You do love your tattoos.” she hummed at the attention he gave her.

“I do.” he softly exhaled. “Mmph. It suits you.” he backed away and gave her a good wobble with his hand before leaning back onto the bed. “Makes all that look even better somehow.” he motioned his hand to her backside while she looked back and smirked, pulling her jeans the rest of the way down.

“You into pain since you’re so into tattoos?”

“I’m not… not.” he smirked.

“What if I wanted to give that pretty fucked out face a slap? Or pull your hair? Do you like being bitten? Some love bites?” she watched him mesmerized and getting hard before she laced her legs out of the jeans and turned back to face him.

“All of the above.” His lip curls slightly, genuine enthusiasm for the topic at hand. “I do like the hair pulling. This..” he swallows as if his mouth is going dry as she crawls up the bed toward him. “ …dirty talk you’re doing.”

“Calling you pretty boy?” He nodded almost bashfully, eyes now on her tits knocking together as she straddled his hips, his cock growing snugly between her cheeks. “Soft pet names for the pretty princess then.” She pouted hers and leaned forward, her thumb to his lips. “I bet a nice boy like you likes being told he’s good too, huh? You a good boy Eddie?” She asks her thumb now tracing his lips.

“Shit.” He muttered. “Yeah, I like that.” He almost chuckled as he said it, his words being forced out with a tightening of his stomach.

“I knew you’d be a sub.” She grinned.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He adds with darting eyes and hovering hands as he tries to figure out where to look and touch. “Sometimes I’m in the mood to be more dominant, ya know? I could do to you what you’re talking about doing to me. And I am having a very hard time remembering how English works right now with you like this.” He purses his lips and rubbed her hips in his hands. She chuckled and leaned forward to kiss him, a finger under his chin to lift it to her.

“You just keep making those noises I like so much. Pretty boys don’t have to talk.” She shook her head and nuzzled her nose against his before kissing his neck. “You can get rough with me later, I don’t mind.” She hummed and sighed between kisses.

He felt a shudder travel down his body. He let himself melt into the feeling of her lips working against his throat, from his ears to his Adam’s Apple she licked and sucked and he soaked up every bit of it. He was now hard, assuming leaking with how he’s feel the twinge in his muscles making his cock jump against her ass every time he heard her murmur against his skin.

The kisses began migrating down to spread across his collar bones, the round of his shoulders while she felt him up like a teenager in the backseat at a drive-in. He’s enjoying the feeling of her hands soft and grasping against every part of him they could reach. She slowly scoot backward, giggling when he groaned at the contact of his needy cock against her warm center as she kissed her way down his torso. She stopped for a quick suck of his nipple which made him jump. She raised her head.

“Bad?” She asked, her hand rubbing his nipple as of trying to soothe it.

“Noone's ever done that before.” His brow was a little low, showing his confusion. She lowered her head again and lapped over him with a smile before sucking his nipple into her mouth again.

“Good?” She asked, her tongue flicking it now hard under her tongue.

“Good.” He nodded the tiniest bit breathless. She plays with him for a bit, a back and forth of sucking one nipple while lightly twisting the other just like he did her. The way his toes curled and his legs became restless let her know he was enjoying it. She didn’t spend too long in one spot though. She dragged her chest over his wanting cock. A single muttered swear escaped him as she let her nipple graze against his head. She assumed her position, ass in the air and her mouth kissing his hip bones.

“What about you?” He asks, surprising her, her focus snapped.

“Me?”

“You can't suck me then fuck me, Star.” He stated definitively as he moves lithely on the bed, kneeling to switch their places. “What kind of a man do take me for?” He said with faux offense. He moves her with gentle suggesting hands to lay back. “You’re not taking my cock until I’ve gotten you good and ready.” A smile grew slowly across her pinked lips but her eyes grew darker.

“Okay, not a total sub.” He could hear the effect on her in her voice. “I like it when you talk like that.” She tugged down a pillow behind her and spread her legs wide for him.

“When I talk about my cock?” She bit her lip and nodded.

“And a little bossy, yeah.” Her tits pressed together by her arm as she raised up to watch him. Her hand ran down her middle as he laid belly down on the bed, one leg hitched up to make room for his cock.

“So you like hearing what I’m going to do to you?”

“Very much.” She nodded and gave her clit a few circles with her fingers. “I also love watching you go down on me.”

“You like it when I eat you out?”

“Is that even a question?” She grinned and gave him the same response he had her. She saw the confident smile as he kissed her inner thigh and ran his fingers across her impossibly soft hair.

“You talk about me being pretty.” He says with his lips to her inner thighs, kissing their way inward. “What about you? Can I talk about how fuckin hot you are?” His arm reaches up and caresses her stomach. With teasing tickling kisses he pecks his way to her clit, causing a tiny gasp to escape her. “This flower of a pussy is gorgeous.” He let his tongue lap up the slender column of her clit and its hood. He stayed paced and building and waited until her eyes rolled back. “Look at me, Star.” he pulled his hands away from teasing her nipples to spread her lips apart and get a better connection to her clit. She moaned. As she exhaled, looking at his warm brown eyes. There’s a light and mischief to them that made her want to be bad with him too. “You like watching me? I like it too.” He spoke against her thighs, his face rubbing into their softness as he slicked his fingers with the wetness between her lips before pushing them in. The first unfiltered loud moan of the night erupted from her. Her eyes struggled to focus and not roll back as he spoke softly into her sensitive inner thighs between rounds of sucking her clit. All the while a slow pump of his fingers made her hold her legs back to give her better access. As soon as she pulled her knees back he moaned against her clit and put one large hand on her ass, kneading it as he groaned into her softness.

“Fuck I can really feel it this time.” she starts her tiny tremors from waves of pleasure beginning to lap away at her.

“Couldn’t get in there as deep the first time.” He talks, almost slurs against her as he feels his desire growing. “Having to eat your pussy in the middle of a session.” He tsks her and she whimpers. “Should’ve waited and I could’ve fucked you.” Her toes wiggle and she mewls happily. “Fuck I can’t wait for you to cum around my cock instead of my fingers.” He moans, losing himself in feeling her take him in so eagerly with her body.

“You better stop if you don’t want me to cum on your fingers too.”

“Does it feel good sweetheart? Tell me how good it feels.” She felt her hips buck at his pleading tone.

“So good.” She moans. “Those strong fingers are too good, Eddie. You’re so good with your hands.” she laments to the open air of the room.

He grins and growls playfully, a smile on his face when she meets his gaze again.

“Am I playing this pussy like a guitar?” he grins and she responds with the same smile and lets her head fall back a second. There was something so contagious about his boyish charm when he put it on show.

“I’d say better but ugh- fuck I don’t think you could. So fucking good Eddie, shit.” She whined. “I’m gonna cum already you asshole.” She laughed and pushed her hair out of her flushed face. A masculine laugh left his chest and made her shake.

“You wanna cum on my fingers?” He pounds into her a little harder and she reaches to grab the sheets with white knuckles.

“No, I wanna cum on your cock.” It comes out as slutty as she felt it. “I want to ride you so bad Eddie. I wanna feel you so deep. I wanna cum on your cock over and over.” Her hips began to roll. She moaned, feeling the pulsing inside her he knew she was close and talking herself over the edge whether she meant to or not. He slid out his fingers and put the wetness onto his cock as he pumped it into his fist.

“C’mon baby,” he says without thinking and slaps her hip. “Come take it.” They both scramble and switch places, he awaited her with his cock in his hand as she got her balance over him. His tongue flicked out in focus, his brow low over his eyes and his hair a mess.

Star's body was as ready as it could be for him. She knew not to let impatience win or she’s be waddling tomorrow. She rests one knee up and one down, giving her leverage to aim and then lower herself. She feels him line up, his head and her hole, as she begins a process that requires patience that she does not have. She lets out a little squeak as she feels herself engulf his thick tip.

“You okay?” She looks up to see Eddie s concerned face. She’d almost forgotten he was there too, watching her and worried. He’d be concerned he was too big and she was reminded to make sure he knew that wasn’t the case when it came to her.

“Better than okay.” She gives him a brief smile before locking her lips and humming. “You got my pussy so greedy, I just want to swallow you up.” She scrunches her nose affectionately and puts a hand on his chest for balance. She starts a steady push, feeling the tightness in her body, and her nerve endings not knowing whether to register it as pleasure or pain. She reached to rub her clit, feeling herself open up again as she relaxed. While rubbing her clit her body ached for more of him. She gladly obliged. “Fuck that’s good.” She gritted out, a slow but consistent push of her hips down the entire length of him.

She felt the tight grip he’d held in worry on her thighs loosen.

“Fuck, Eddie.” She let out a lustful sigh, resting her other knee on the bed now as well. Her eyes were closed in concentration, mouth open and letting every good sound leave freely for him to hear. “That’s it.” She sighed, feeling her hips rest against his. “Fits just fuckin right.” She purred and squoze herself around him. After a wiggle of her hips, she runs her hands up and down her body as she begins to lift off his cock. “That's it.” She whispered, concentrating and letting the stretch adjust, by the third slow drag upward she was feeling the fullness with nothing but pleasure. “God damn that’s a good dick, Munson.” She gathered herself, now putting her hands to his chest as she could find a rhythm. “You’ve got some nerve having a dick this good.” She moved to grab his chin and his eyes were fully dilated and feeding her ego with the bold adoration in them. He let out a sound that wasn’t a yelp, his hands shaking on her thighs. “Is it as good for you as it is for me?”

“Fuck Star.” He groaned and his eyes fluttered. “You feel so good.” He sounded as if he might be in pain. “It’s so good you’re so god damn hot. So wet.” He watched where their bodies continuously joined. He sees her fingers move down to rub her clit.

“I can feel this pussy just getting wetter.” Her voice was softer, one of his hands moving to twist her nipple and the other feeling the solid wobble of her ass against him. Her confidence falters in appearance from the already surging forward orgasm she’d neglected earlier. Her hips falter in their bouncing, her muscles starting to twitch again. She reached out to put her hand on the wall above his head. She pulled a pillow under his head to prop him up. “Suck on my tits, Eddie.” It’s a sigh of a request, holding herself up and getting the leverage to slam herself down on him with a clap of skin against skin. He does as he’s told and feeds her tits into his mouth to moan around them. “Ohmygod.” He hears above him, he watches her with a serene face, eyes closed, and hair a curtain around it. She let’s her moans out freely, they build quickly, her hips moving faster. She starts grinding herself against him and he’s groaning at being ridden in a carnal way he wasn’t used to. He felt like she was using his body for her own pleasure, but he didn’t mind in the least.

“Unf!” He lets out as he tries to speak and she moans the sound, her eyes opening to meet his.

“I love those pretty moans, pretty boy.” She grins and runs her hand through his hair.

“You feel so good.” He gently confesses.

“You like it when I grind my pussy on your big cock so I can cum?”

“Oh, cum, Star please.” Her body shudders when he says it and she feels it quickly approaching.

“I’m close.” It comes out more desperate than she meant but she couldn’t care less. “I can feel you in my fucking stomach.” She moans and puts his hand on her lower belly where he can feel the displacement inside her. “That’s so hot. I'm So full of your cock.” She reassures him and he whimpers and it feeds her orgasm more. “I'm gonna cum so hard Eddie. Shit.” She growled. “Grab my hips.” She orders with a slap To his chest. “Hard. Don’t be fucking nice.” She had found a mix of grins and bounces to rub her clit against his body and have him knock back and forth inside her enough to hit her elusive spots.

“Fuck!” He gritted out, veins popping out in his lean arms wheel he grabbed her hips bones and moved her on top Of him. “Jesus Christ Star you’re getting so tight. Shit.” He squinted his eyes to try not to cum, when she let out a quiet sob they shoot back open to watch her fall apart.

“Just like that.” She whined, holding his hair at his crown, the other still Against the wall. “You’re such a good boy.” She panted out. “You’re gonna make me cum.” It sounded almost like a laugh. “Fuck yes Eddie ohmygod!” She cried. He watched her body fight with itself. The desperate need to keep her hips moving against him, which is where his strong grip on them came into play. Her back bowed and chest heaved, her whole body gave over and he was awestruck by the sight of her. Her mouth did nothing but moan and say yes, Eddie on repeat. The praise alone was enough to make him blow his top but he was so desperately hanging on and savoring the vision of her coming apart around him.

She startled him with a loud gasp and her eyes flew back open. She wheezed to catch her breath and ran her hand through her hair.

“Holy shit.” She squeaked out. “Fuh-uhh ck yes.” It was as if she grew fangs for a moment with a deepening of her voice and snarling of her teeth. She moved her eyes down to his and saw that strung-out and fighting face she wanted. “You feel that?” She asked, grabbing his chin. “I know you can feel me running down your balls.” His mouth held open by his grip on him moaned at the words.

“Wanna make you cum again.” He pants out. “Before I cum.”

“Then make me.” She narrowed her eyes and grinned wickedly at him. “Make me cum on your big cock, pretty boy.” She shook his head, fingers dipping into his plush mouth for a moment and moaning at the sight. “Fuck me, Eddie. Fuck me hard. Give me a little mean.” She cooed and put her hand to her throat. “Let me see the indents of those rings on my neck.” She moaned as he gave her a little shake.

“You want fucked hard?” His voice had a little more oomph to it. She squeals devilishly.

“As hard as you can.” She challenged.

“Get on all fours.” He slapped her ass and she moved quickly, ass up and bouncing it at him as he lined up behind her. He pushed in and her arms shook.

“Holy Shit.” She bellowed.

He slides his arm up her back and put his hand on her throat. “You tell me if-“

“Do it, pussy.” Her laugh was cut off by his hand on her neck and his dick starting at a harsh pace.

“She loves to run her fucking mouth doesn’t she?” He grunted as he felt her sounds very muffled in her throat.

“Yes”. She called out.

“Fuck me I’m not gonna be able to get enough of this pussy, Star. Look at you.” He moaned and bit his lip, watching himself sink into her. “That little pussy grips on so fuckin tight and won’t let go.”

“Hit me.” She cried out. She felt him hesitate. “Spank me.” She moaned out as his grip loosened on her throat.

“You want choked or you want spanked? Make up your mind.”

“Spank.” She whined. “Hips. Hold My hips. Fucking tight.” She pleaded. She could feel herself approaching another orgasm from being sensitive from the first. He raised a hand and hit her ass with a loud snap. Luckily it was met with a deep mewl and her arms started to fail.

“Yes”. She threw her head back, hair fanning out over her back. He lands another, his hips pistoning. “Your balls slapping against my clit feels so fucking good.” She whimpered and another spank and a growl was his answer. Eddie was hanging on by a thread. Damned and determined to make her cum again but hold out long enough for himself.

“God dammit… you’re gonna make me cum.” He panted out with pauses that matched the beating of his hips into hers.

“Shit. You’re so good damned deep Eddie.” She whined, whatever came into her horny head falling out of her mouth. He gave her another spank and her elbows buckled.

“That’s it.” He moaned loudly. “M’gonna fuck you into this mattress. Make you take this big dick.” He hears a new sound muffled into the covers. She reached between her legs to get to her clit, she only needed a tiny push over the edge.

“Fuck yes more.” She gasped when she turned her head. “More talk like that.”

“You just want to hear about what a little whore you’re being for me don’t you?” He wasn’t sure if it was too harsh but feeling her seize around him answered him quickly.

“Fuck. Yes. I do.” She mewled and moaned. Eddie got it now. In the middle of teetering on the edge of an orgasm, it clicked.

“You’re such a bad girl, Star. Wanting to get fucked like this.”

Another new sound. One of agreement and wordless and he felt her begin to shake. If she thought he was a good boy, then that made her a bad girl.

“Is this what you wanted huh? Bent over and-“ he hit each cheek hard once. “Spanked?”

“More.” She choked out.

“No. No more.” He grabbed her hips with both hands and pounded into her with no mercy. “So bossy.” He grunted. “Shut up and take my cock.” He groaned out between thrusts as she came around him. This one wasn’t as loud but by god, her whole body shook. Her thighs usually vibrated when she came but this one took her tip to tail. He had no choice but to grunt and groan like an animal as he came inside her. He heard her a mewling mess as she started to have tremors and aftershocks.

She brought out something in him he didn’t explore very often and he relished the experience. He let his hips stutter against her and kept his grip hard on the wide-set hip bones he could just feel under her soft curves. The music played for a few moments with no interruptions from a squeaking bed or dirty talk. They both gasped and smacked their dry mouths as they caught their breath. She feels his hands soften against her, feeling the heat from his body hunched over hers leave.

“Shit.” His voice was strained. He sat back on his knees and rubbed his face before pushing back his hair.

“Mmph.”Is the only response she managed with her face mushed into the mattress. She couldn’t bring herself to move yet, her soaked center on display for him as he watched himself slowly drip out of her. He groaned, his cock twitching exhausted against his thigh. He reaches out his thumb to gently stroke her slit, a small drag over her clit while he admires his work.

She spasms, hips bouncing for a moment the moment he touches her clit. He gives it another light stroke just to see her ass jiggle again.

“Eddie.” she whimpered, letting out a cry so soft and sweet he lead down to give a kiss to the star tattoo on her ass. He gives her reddened cheeks a gentle rub before his hand drags up her back and he flops onto the bed beside her.

“You okay?” He chuckled and rubs her nearly welted hip.

“M’Great.” She sighed and then started to laugh. “Just Lemme.” She whimpered and moved her arms and legs, turning her hips and falling into much the same position as him. “There.” She exhaled noisily and rest her head on her arm.

“That…” he nodded, a smile that beamed down at her from his face perched on his hand made her smile back. “Was fun.” he lets out a dumb deep chuckle.

“As much as I would find it funny to disagree I wholeheartedly can’t.” she hid her face and smiled. “That was…” she mumbles into her arm. “Better than I had anticipated.”

“What the hell does that mean?” he shoved her shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to be any good?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” she grunted and raised up like he was. “I didn’t think it’d be bad. To clarify. For your ego.” she rolled her eyes but her lips were smiling warmly. “As much credit as I willingly give you for being a good guy you are still a guy and maybe I underestimated your… giving nature and how well we’d play off each other.”

“That’s a lot of words to say thanks for the great fuck, Eddie.” he smirked. He got a full laugh out of her and she rolled to her back.

“Thanks for the great fuck, Eddie. It was fun. I had a wonderful time. I’d say can’t wait to do it again but my ass is on fire.” she hissed and turned to give him her back, rubbing a burning cheek.

“The lady asked and I provided.” he defended himself.

“Not a complaint.” she swung her legs over the side of the bed to sit up and turned her face to give him an almost blushing smile. “We gotta get this makeup off.” she groaned as she stood. She shook her legs out and he swooned at the sight of her naked body. “C’mon.” she motioned for him to follow with her hand

“I think you’ve figured out how to get me to do anything you ask.” he says as he rolls and hops to trot after her as she headed to the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth and soaked it, the cabinet light buzzing as they crowded into the small space.

“I do love some good old-fashioned bribery.” she grinned and rubbed around his eyes. He hummed contently at the warmth of her hands and the cloth. She doted on him like a mother, holding his face and then handing off the cloth for him to finish it off. She did the same to herself, scrubbing the eye makeup off. A yawn quickly overtook her after.

“Shit, it’s probably late.” his eyes darted around, still feeling mentally awake but his body was satisfied and tired.

“You mind if I stay the night?” she asked casually. He tilted his head like a puppy at her and gave her eyes of the same origin.

“No. I’d love that.” he openly admitted.

“I would too.” she turned and put her hand on his chest. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to pee.”

He’d checked the locks and turned out the lights, making the bed useable since they’d thrown everyone on it around. She walks in and joins him without a word, turning to switch off the tableside lamp.

“You mind?” her voice was sleepy and soft as he felt her hand reach out to find him in the dark.

“Mm?”

“I’d like some aftercare please.” he heard the giggle in her voice and swooped his arm wide to pull them together.

“What would people think if they knew you wanted to snuggle after sex?” he teased and she more aggressively wrapped herself around him than usual.

“I’d say they don’t know how nice skin-to-skin contact is.” she sighed out contently, an arm around his waist, her to his chest. Another change in their usual routine. She was known to pull Eddie’s head into her tits and keep him there to sleep in her bed. But he found himself lacking in the softness of his chest as he laid back and let her mush her face into him. Her leg was thrown over him, as much of their bodies touching as possible. “S’nice.” she mumbled against one of his tattoos.

“It is.” he sighed.

“Night, pretty boy.” she yawned and let out a noisy sigh as she snuggled her face against him, a little squeeze before settling.

“Night, sweetheart.” he kissed the top of her head, neck bent to keep his nose as close to buried in her hair as he could. His hand ran through her hair slowly, lazily and they both felt the tension finally leave their bodies in totality. Star's eyes rolled back behind closed lids at the feeling of him playing with her hair. She was acutely aware of how hot his skin was to hers. She savored the way the blanket lay soft and warm on them and the air chilled where it hit bare skin. It was so quiet and almost blackout dark. She fell asleep without having to try.

With Star's breathing slow and steady against him, he knew she'd fallen asleep already. Knowing she was comfortable, he let his mind finally slow down. Feeling her skin so soft and her body so plush against his harder one made something ache in his chest. He'd been so neglected of physical affection before she showed up. Now he had not only the company of another body touching his but now skin-to-skin contact. Something so vital to humans they rush babies as soon as they're born to their mother's chest for them to feel it. He felt a bit like a child with her like this. There was something so foreign about the need being met but the feeling of being home hummed happily in his brain, soothing his rapidly moving thoughts. He couldn't help but snug his arm around her, pulling her closer, and slipped his hand into hers on his chest. She made no protest. It was the best either had slept in ages.

Part 8

(Yes, this is exactly what I had in mind when I had him say this in the story lol)

Tag List -Just ask to be added.

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[hollandsmushroom]

Lost In My Brain

Hello everyone, so this concept came from the very very depths of my brain as I went into a deep dissociative episode and I wrote this to pull myself out by imagining semi mob tom comforting me. 

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCHLY APPRECIATED 

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You aren’t replying to Tom’s texts so he is really worried, he finds you in a state of trauma and unable to really communicate. 

Warnings: Please read this at your own comfort, I wrote this to help me cope and I thought someone else might want to read it. I have written about extremely personal topics in this and I am not talking about stuff that I don’t know anything about, I suffer from dissociative PTSD. So warnings really include mentions of an unidentified trauma, Dissociation, Dissociative PTSD, Loss of recognition of faces, mentions of Mob Tom, missing person?, Trauma that happened at night, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that you are actually dead. 

Masterlist

Request Here

Word Count: 1577

Tom’s meetings had run late, he had messaged you throughout the discussions to keep you updated and so you wouldn’t worry but it was him who worried as his phone remained void of any response from you. He began to grow antsy as the conversations just dragged on. He gave his input whenever he had to but most of his time was spent trying his hardest to seem as if he was paying attention and then checking his phone to see if you had responded, and every time his phone screen was blank. His worry was beginning to overtake his body, he worked in a dangerous profession and people knew that the best way to get to him was through loved ones, you being the main one. The thought of something bad having happened to you made his heart break, the thought of someone hurting you added to that made his blood boil. It wasn’t like he was overreacting, you were always very attentive to responding to him when he was in meetings, you knew that under his hard mobster outside he worried about you a great deal and if you could do anything to ease that, you would, and that is why he was freaking out to this extent. As soon as the meeting came to a close he left immediately, ignoring the people who tried to catch his attention on his way out, focused only on getting home to you. 

  Tom walked into the house, calling out your name and receiving no response in turn his heart beginning to pound as the silence reverberated in his ears. With an urgency he began making his way through the rooms of your shared house. He started in your bedroom, eyes landing on the perfectly made bed, signalling to him that you never went to bed, he made his way through the guest rooms, your office, the living room, by the time he reached the kitchen he was on the verge of tears. Hands grabbing on to the counter as he faced the empty living room, retrieving his phone from his slacks pocket and quickly dialing up his mate Harrison. 

“Mate?” Tom asked as he heard the phone be answered on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah?” His friends tired voice answered, clearly having been woken up by Tom’s call

“I can’t find Y/n, I don’t know where she is” At this point Tom felt like he was on the verge of breaking down, the idea that something had happened to you and he wasn’t there to protect you made him see red.

“Wait? You can’t find her?” there was a rustle from the other line, Harrison having sat straight up in bed, shock over taking him. 

“Yeah, mate and I am kind of starting to freak-” Tom spun around, leaning his back against the cool marble countertop when his eyes caught on the open sliding glass door leading to your backyard, a dark figure sitting on the cement ground rocking slightly. 

“Mate, I'm gonna have to call you back” he ignored his friend's words of worry as he hung up, placing the glowing screen face down on the counter and making his way outside. As soon as he passed the threshold of the door sniffles reached his ears. The weather wasn’t freezing but it definitely wasn’t warm enough for you to be sitting there in nothing but one of Tom’s shirts, bare thighs on the cool ground. 

“Love?” Tom called as he made his way to your quivering figure, shoulders throwing themselves back and forth as you attempted to rock yourself in comfort. He reached a hand out to your shoulder, but you flinched away from his touch causing his heart to shatter. With the jerk of your movement his eyes caught your face, tears staining your cheeks. 

“Love it's me” Tom assured, once again reaching his hand out to you, and this time you let him, his hand soothing over your shoulder causing it to cease its shaking as you eased into his touch. He did this gradually, progressively enveloping you further into his hold, a protective embrace, your face tucked into his chest as his hand rubbed up and down your back, trying to warm your body as you began to shiver from the night air. 

“Let's get you inside, darling” Tom’s soothing touch helping you off the ground. He grabbed your hand, gently moving you into the house, and led you to the bathroom. His hands grabbed your hips, placing you onto the bathroom counter, you sat there, eyes trained on the wall ahead as Tom dampened a washcloth, moving back to you to wipe the snot and tears off of your cheeks, he stood in your view for the first time, his hands reaching towards you as you examined his face, causing you quickly push him away, hurt flashing across his unknown feature as you distanced yourself from him, scooting back on the counter curling further into your own body. 

“Y/n?” His voice sounded defeated, reaching out again only for you to have the same reaction. His voice, you knew his voice, and his face didn’t seem completely unknown, something about him was familiar. It was so close to the face you loved so much but your eyes were distorting his features.

“I...I don’t know who you are?” He could have sworn he broke when you said that. 

“Baby, it’s me, it’s Tom” he cooed, trying to understand what was happening, fear bruning through his chest and all the way down to his gut, feeling as if his world was slipping from under his feet. 

“No, I-I know it’s you but..but I look at your face I don’t recognize it, it’s off, it’s not quite right and I don’t know who you are, you look like I stared at you for too long and you lost all feature, Tommy, I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who I am” your tears began to flow again as you looked in the mirror, your face was just a little bit off till it wasn’t your face anymore. You closed your eyes and shook your head violently causing Tom to gasp, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to halt your movements. 

“Stop, baby, please stop, it’s me, it’s Tommy, I’m right here” his voice soothed you, peeling your eyes back open, you saw his face, it was right, it was your Tommy. 

“Tom?” His name but a question on your tongue as he cupped your cheek. 

“Yes it’s me,” the pad of his thumb brushed away tear streaks. “What’s happening, sweets, talk to me please” he pleaded, eyes begging you to let him know what was happening. 

“I’m dead Tommy” you explained but it only made it worse, yes widening comically as fear shot through his body. 

“W-what do you mean you’re dead?” His mind was racing, had someone put a hit on you? Did you need to go into hiding? He felt like he was falling into every possible issue that you could be having but he was cut off by your voice again. 

“I was thinking earlier and what if I died that night? What if I didn’t get out of the way? This is the after life” you mumbled, fully convinced that you had lost your mind. 

“You are not dead” Tom demanded 

“How do you know that” you whispered 

“Because I’m here, dusting with you, I can touch you and trace every mark in your body, I have my own life, I would have that if you were dead, and if you were why would it just be a continuation of your day to day, why are you freaking out if this is heaven” he tried to explain and something must have worked because your body eased, eyes drawing from your hands to his face. 

“This is real?” your voice sounded weak, so lost in your mind as your eyes seemed to glaze over. 

“Yes,  love this is real” he hummed, finally being able to wipe the tears from your face, his touch drawing you back from the farthest depths of your brain that you kept spiraling into “Now let’s get you to bed” Reaching past you he grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste, preparing it for you to brush your teeth. You took your toothbrush from his hand as he leaned in and kissed your forehead lovingly, a tear slipping from his eye as he took in your defeated state, brushing it away before you could see and brushing his teeth as well. 

Moments later you fell into your bed, Tom’s arms wrapped securely around you as your back curved into his chest, you shook your head as you closed your eyes seeing everything you wished you could forget. 

“Tommy, I feel so lost in my brain, its like its yelling and every new thought just adds to the noise, continuing to bounce around with everyone else” You whispered as you shuttered. 

“I know it's not okay, my love, but I am here and I will be here, I will help you come back” he kissed your temple and held you as you fell asleep. He vowed to himself that he would be there for you, he would never let you go, give you a life that distanced yourself from that pain that haunted you. He would remind you everyday that you are alive. 

[zorilleerrant]

I don't know if you actually want advice, OP (culturally, you're indicating that you do by using complete sentences that are properly capitalized), but I can explain tags and comments.

Tags are topic identifiers, and this is important for finding any advice about machinery. You click on the tag and it will take you to posts on that topic. (I don't know if there is any good advice, but you might try looking for diy or other related terminology.) Some tumblrs are dedicated to specific topics and handle them well. But I think you're asking about commentary.

Tag commentary can be taken as one (or more) of the following:

I thought this was important to say, but it didn't fit with the main point I was making in the reblog (this big block of text right here)

I'm making disclaimers so people don't think I didn't know about something just because I didn't add 500 caveats

I wanted to say something but didn't think it was important enough to add it to the base post

I only want to talk to my followers and I'm not joining the conversation outright (the equivalent of whispering)

I have other ideas but I'll only elaborate on them if someone asks me about them separately

I wanted to compliment OP (on their art, cute dog, funny joke, etc.) but don't have anything to add to the post

Reblogs are what you've already discovered; reblogs with commentary are probably what you're referring to. (I don't think there are specific names for that; mostly people call them 'additions' or just refer to conversation.) It's okay to add anything you want to a post, generally speaking, although it's sort of frowned on to add fandom commentary to serious or upsetting personal posts. Some original artists also dislike being compared to fandom things, but fandom artists usually don't mind being compared to other fandoms. Political posts tend to be divisive and it's best to keep on topic if you add anything to them.

It is, however, something that can annoy people. Some people don't mind someone doing this to a lot of their posts; other people really hate it and will block if someone does it more than once or twice in a row. (If someone goes to your tumblr and thinks you say a lot of annoying/wrong/boring/pointless/etc. things they may also block you.) It's probably better to observe how other people add to posts for a while, because it's different depending on the genre of post.

Stories are usually free game to add onto if they're similar nonfiction or a continuation of fiction (unless it's a dedicated original writing blog, which sometimes dislike that). With art posts you could add a story too, or create similar art in your own style, but in general additions aren't that welcome (or necessary, as it were). Political posts, as I mentioned, it's important to stay on topic, and people generally take an ownvoices approach to who should be adding commentary. Jokes you can add to if you're funny; people get very annoyed at unfunny additions, but are mostly okay with just kind of funny additions. There are some reblog memes too, but you should wait for people to demonstrate them first, so you know what to do. Fandom posts generally welcome collaborative additions, but please don't argue with people's headcanons, it's just as rude as always.

Replies are the little speech bubble thing. People can only see these if they open up the tab to look at them specifically, but OP will get a notification. I hate these so I can't explain the etiquette to you.

The fancy font is generally used for emphasis, usually in repeating a specific point someone else has made, to agree with it. It can also be used to emphasize your own words if you want to repeat them several times. Sometimes it's used to mock people, but usually only when telling a story about other people, not generally when speaking directly to someone.

Welcome to the hellsite!

I've been on tumblr regularly for a couple weeks now I think. So far so good. I changed some of my dash stuff. Prof pics and header is done. I wrote a line on the thing under my name. I reblog every now and then. I'm still not entirely sure how tags work. Or comments? Is that what you call them? So far so good I guess?

I miss reddit. I miss a lot of the niche subs I was on. I miss the discussion style of interacting with the other users. The organization of subreddits and comments threads just made so much sense to me. Who the hell am I supposed to talk to now for some advice about that super specific old ass machinery?

Tumblr is weird, but I can see myself staying here. Hell, I'm weird as fuck too.

by the way

What the fuck is this font used for and why is it so fancy? Can I just keep writing like this for all my posts?

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.2

A/N: Really wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction to pt.1 so thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, kind words and support! I had a few requests to make a taglist so I’ve done it at the bottom - let me know if you’d like to be added! (and I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone) so - on with the show!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing

pt.1 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

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You startle when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the sudden and abrupt noise of it quick to drag your attention away from the true crime documentary playing across your TV screen. You eye it from your spot on the couch, so far, yet only a mere reach away if you could be bothered to stretch the distance. Your eyes fall back to the TV, happy to just ignore it and address it when you eventually have to move from the cocoon of blankets and pillows you’ve surrounded yourself with, but when the reminder alert sounds two minutes after receiving it, a small voice in the back of your head pipes up, saying it could be something important and you sigh tiredly.

The effort to move pulls a low groan from you and you stretch out, snatching the device from the table and back into the warmth before you could tumble onto the floor and really have something to grumble about.

Hey Benny’s mystery girl, how’s your night going?

The text sends flutters through your stomach, your hands immediately clamming up with a brief wave of nerves. This was the guy that Benny was setting you up with – an apparent very close friend and someone who clearly meant a lot to him. Why did you feel so much pressure to make a good impression?

Blankets, cushions and crime show now forgotten, you straighten up and let your fingers hover over the keypad in contemplation.

Do you play it cool? Act like you have a brimming social life, full of fun and endless options, and are not currently sat at home on a Friday night in your pyjamas watching Netflix, eating an excessive amount of snacks? No. No, you shouldn’t put a false image out there. Honesty is the best policy.

Hey yourself mystery fish. It’s a nice and relaxed night on my end, how about yours?

You leave it at that, briefly wondering if you should quickly chuck your phone on airplane mode, delete the message before it could go through and start again.

Did it sound boring? Is that the kind of image you were throwing out there? Maybe you should’ve acted like you were at least doing something productive. But then… what if Benny was there to call you out on your bullshit, knowing you literally have nothing better to do? He’d gladly do it, too.

You roll your eyes at yourself, wondering why you even cared what this mystery man thought about you and your weekend rituals when you had literally never even met. You were who you were, and that was that. If he didn’t like it, then he could take his handsome face and pretty brown eyes elsewhere.

I’m jealous. Stuck out with the guys and all I can think about is sleeping.

Scratch that. Maybe he was a man after your own heart, after all. A picture of a tray of tequila shots and lemons wedges comes through, another text quickly following which had you giggling quietly to yourself –

I’m too old for this shit.

You grin at your screen, opening your camera and snapping a quick picture of your blanket covered legs, snack covered coffee table and bright TV screen before sending it with a little smirking emoji. You’re not disappointed when he replies almost immediately.

Now I’m really jealous – are those Doritos?

Nacho cheese!

The one and only acceptable flavour. Is that Forensic Files? I binged the shit out of that the other day!

OMG it’s so good!

-

Surprisingly, your eyes didn’t feel as heavy as you thought they would when your alarm drags you from sleep the next morning. You could even say you were looking forward to waking up, which was not how your Saturday mornings usually played out.

Immediately you reach over for your phone and unlock it, smiling like an idiot at the Home safe :) text waiting for you. You chew your lip as you scroll through the many bubbles of conversation, stomach twisting in delight as you re-read through the topics you managed to bounce through in the few hours of texting before you had to call it quits at 2:14am and send a final – Goodnight Frankie x

You had paced your apartment after that, ringing your hands together anxiously and eyeing the clock as the seconds ticked past, scowling at your reflection in the mirror as you took your worries out on your teeth, scrubbing them much harder than necessary. Was a kiss too much? Is it too early for that kind of thing? You had only literally just started talking. Should you quickly text and say it was an accident? It’s not like you can say you sent it to the wrong person – the message had his fucking name in it.

The sound you made when you got a – Sweet dreams mystery girl x – in return wasn’t even remotely human and the words swirled around your head long after you fell asleep.

The reservations you had originally developed on being set up, yet again, quickly dissipated the longer you and Frankie exchanged messages. There had been no awkward block of nothing between texts, no dragging up mediocre subjects to keep the conversation rolling… it had just flowed so effortlessly, so naturally – something which had never happened before with Benny’s previous candidates. The only other candidate that you had managed to have a comfortable conversation with was Will, and that was only after you had both agreed that there was no attraction between the two of you.

Over text, Frankie seemed funny – quick witted and sarcastic – and often had you snorting into your drink over a comment or joke made at his own or his friends’ expenses. No, you weren’t even remotely hesitant about this anymore. If anything, your evening of conversation just made you that much more eager to meet him.

It’s much later in the day when you finally message him, having kept the temptation to message him at bay while you tidied up, keeping it short and sweet with a, How’s the head? You chew your lip, eyes flicking over the message with thoughtful eyes before quickly tagging a little kiss on the end and pressing send. Not even two minutes later, your phone goes off on the coffee table and the clammy hands return tenfold when you read over the message a good fifteen times.

Can I call?

Shit. Shit. He wants to call? And like… talk? With voices? What if you stutter? Choke? Oh god, your throat’s dry. It’s dry – how can you talk with a dry throat? You can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Drink – you need a drink –

You quickly run to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and swallowing it down as quickly as you could, not at all caring that it half spills down your chin and onto your jumper. You gasp for air when you finish, slamming the glass down and catching the drips of water from your chin with the back of your hand. You slide across your floor as you run back out to your couch and grab your phone, typing a quick reply.

Yeah sure.

Too casual. Was that too casual? Should you have added a kiss? Shit – it’s already sent. It’s fine. It’s fine. He asked a short question, and he got a short answer. It makes sense. It’s fine. You yelp when your phone starts to vibrate in your hand, his contact name flashing across the screen.

Oh God.

Oh God.

He’s calling. He’s somewhere out there, phone to his ear, waiting for you to answer and you’re what – standing in your lounge and looking at your phone, watching it ring, like an idiot? What are you doing?

You inhale deeply, clearing your throat a little before swiping the green icon.

“Hi,”

Oh God, what was that? What was that tone?

“Hey. Sorry – looking at my phone screen and trying to reply was making my eyes feel like they’re exploding.”

His voice is deep, hoarse from his night of drinking, and overwhelmingly pleasant to listen to. It brings a flush of warmth across your cheeks, an electric tingle across your skin.

You laugh softly, “It’s alright. Tequila wasn’t a good idea, then?”

He grunts quietly and your stomach tightens, throat suddenly dry again at the suggestive sound.

“It never is.” He groans, melting into a long yawn and you start to feel a little guilty. Did your text wake him up?

“I’m sorry, I should let you sleep –”

“No! No, it’s fine. I uh – I really want to talk to you… if you’re not busy.” He adds onto the end, almost nervously. 

“I’m not busy,” you reassure quietly, smiling shyly down at your lap. “I’m all yours.”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound settles deep in your belly, “Good.”

You don’t understand how conversation could just be so... easy with someone you’ve never met. For a brief moment, you worry you might be talking too much, maybe boring him, but when he keeps asking questions, encourages you to continue, you think that maybe he doesn’t mind, maybe he actually is just interested in what you’re saying.

When dinner comes around, you’re in a fit of giggles as you prepare your food, listening to pots and pans bang and clash on the other end as Frankie prepares his own meal. You cook together, eat together, and then settle in front of Netflix together, debating back and forth on what to watch. The evening melts into night, one movie turns into two, and eventually conversation dies down.

Sometime in the night, you roll over, briefly waking to fix and fluff the pillow under your head when a sound makes you pause. Your head jerks up and you look around, finding yourself sprawled across the couch, and a blanket twisted around your legs.

Glancing over to your phone to check the time, you touch the screen and blink in surprise when you see your phone call is still connected with Frankie, who’s quiet on the other end. You move to press the red button but freeze when a soft snore sounds from the device, and a warm flood of affection grows in your heart and spreads throughout your chest.

He’s asleep.

You listen a moment longer, smiling tenderly when more quiet snores reach your ears. Instead of hanging up, you bring the phone closer, tucking it just beside your pillow before laying your head back down and closing your eyes, letting the quiet breathing soothe you back to sleep.

If the strong butterflies turning your stomach were anything to go by, you were in serious trouble.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh​ @peterhollandkait​ @sara-alonso​ @starlightsearches​ @bookishofalder​ @empress-palpat1ne​ @shadowolf993​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff​ @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa​

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal -Ch. 13

Chapter Summary: Old memories come back to you. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: angsty internal thoughts, no Bucky this chapter.  

A/N: Here it is. I’m sorry I ended up not reblogging all the comments on last chapter before I post this one, but I’ve read and cherish them all, please don’t doubt that. Thank you, incredible Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer you’re a Queen around here. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

You bet that if you told anyone about the scene playing out in your apartment right now, people would scoff their asses off at your face: Saturday afternoon, your living room, the Leader of the Avengers Tech Team, the Director of SHIELD – probably the most powerful organization in the world- and one of the scariest, if not the scariest spy to ever walk on earth. All three of you sitting on your carpet, barefeet, wearing tops and tiny shorts due the heat brought by the bright sun slipping through your windows. A big bowl of popcorn in the center and innumerous chocolate bars everywhere. 

Those afternoons with the three of you are a rare event. First, you had your relationship with Eddie to blame, but now it’s mainly due to your work schedules that almost never are in sync, but whenever there’s an opportunity, there you are.

Your phone's message alerts ringing together bursts into the conversation and the three of you grab your devices simultaneously. You were dreading to see what it was, sure it was something from work, but a huge smile widens in your lips at what you see on your screen.

“Jesus…” Nat says, while, laughing, you three turn the screens to one another, confirming you have received the same message. “Bucky’s a lost cause with that cat. That’s the millionth picture I received of her this week. And she’s always doing something extremely exciting like… sleeping.” She rolls her eyes.

“But we have to admit that little asshole is kinda cute,” Sharon comments looking back at her screen and the picture of the, indeed, sleeping cat.

“She is, right?” You agree, with a huge smile on your face. You and Alpine may have had a somewhat rough start, but you can’t help but admit she’s an adorable little jerk who’s just very protective of her human.

“By the way,” Natasha smirks at you, putting her phone back on her pocket, “I had no idea that was what he meant when he said he would romance the shit out of you.”

“It suits perfectly, though,” Sharon comments, shaking her head and laughing with her.

“It does. Shame on me, I should’ve known better.” Nat agrees.  

“He said that?” You ask with peaked interest you try to disguise in the quietness of your tone while you bite the corner of your lips.

The curiosity in the information doesn’t go unnoticed by them, who just snicker at each other. You decide to ignore that.

“The dude is smitten, Y/N, wake the fuck up.” Natasha not so gently throws a popcorn right on your face.

“Hey,” you whine.

“And so is she, giving that little dreamy look on her face. Wake the fuck up indeed.” Sharon sides with Nat with a huff.

“I’ve created two monsters…” Nat comments like you weren’t even in the room, referring to the fact she is the one who brought you two together.

“It’s not like that…” You barge in their little interaction, catching their attention, before folding your legs up and holding your knees, “I mean… yeah, of course… I can’t help having feelings for Bucky, I mean… he’s…” you pause, searching for the right words to describe him, “He’s Bucky.” You shrug… a small smile curling your lips, “He’s Bucky…” you repeat with a sigh while your gaze wanders away…

It’s just you don’t really need anything else to justify why it’s so inevitable to grow feelings for him and your friends catch on to what you mean, because when you look back at them, they both have stupid and dreamily little looks at you… ones that don’t fit to a couple of spies. 

You clear your throat, letting your initial line of thoughts come back to you, “But it’s not that simple… There’s…’ you falter.

“There’s what?” Nat insists, in a kind way.

But “Who” was the more proper pronoun.

“Eddie…” You whisper.

“Argh…” Sharon groans, tilting her face to her side before, looking back at you, “What about Eddie?”

It was just yesterday that you had your little “encounter” with Bucky. You know it was no coincidence he was there, the little shit must’ve tracked you down… but you couldn’t make yourself care about that when it was so amazing… incredible… Not only the fact that he went down on you in such a shameless way and gave you a mind-blowing orgasm, like he always does. It was also the way he spoke to you…his attitude… not really imposing himself… encouraging you to have fun with your friends… no sign of jealousy. It made you feel special and free and… loved. Really loved for who you are and not for who you make yourself to be to please and that is a tremendously powerful feeling.

Still… you have mixed feelings about it all and Eddie is the reason. Being there with him felt familiar and comfortable, but, in some way different… better than before. It makes you think that he really is engaged into finding not just a way back to you, but also a way to make your relationship work and it certainly weighs over your heart.

You tell your friends all of that.

“Did Eddie notice anything?” Nat asks, reaching over for some popcorn.

“I don’t know,” you answer, “He wasn’t at the table when I returned, but he came back shortly, my friends were still talking about it, but we changed to subject once we saw him. The girls didn’t comment anything again, and he acted normal… I guess he didn’t.” You shrug, starting to bite on your nails.

There’s an annoying little feeling rising in you since the night before and, thinking over it, you recognize it as guilt. Guilt for doing that with Bucky while Eddie was there in Club, guilt for not being bothered by Bucky’s presence, while, at least initially, you were bothered by Eddie’s, guilty for enjoying that Bucky was the one who actively made a move when Eddie didn’t, for missing him more than you missed Eddie, for feeling more positively about his change of mind than Eddie’s, for wanting Bucky more…

Guilt because you know you’re falling for him. For Bucky. And there’s little you can do to stop it.

“What is it?” Sharon asks, tightening her lips and nodding at where you’re chewing your nails.

You promptly stop, bringing your hands to around your knees again, “I guess I wasn’t expecting either of them there.” You decide not to share your most recent thoughts with them.

“You know why both of them were there. It was definitely not a coincidence.” Nat reminds you.

“I know… but it's ok, they were polite...” You brush it off but add, quickly, fighting back a smile at the memories that flashes in your mind, “In their own way.”

“Polite? Even when Bucky had his face up your pussy?” Sharon teases, not letting that one go, and making you give in and let out a laugh while you hide your face with your hands for a moment.

“I was pretty excited to find out he was there, actually,” you admit and their faces light up, which you assume is prompted by your own expression. “It was a thrilling sensation… I can’t quite explain.”

“He really is in love with you…Bucky…” Nat tightens her lips and tilts her head.

You sigh, looking back at her, “I know…” You admit.

They both keep waiting for you to say something else but you don’t know what you could say. No… as a matter of fact, you do. You’re just not ready to put your thoughts out in the world. At first, you had your doubts if what Bucky was feeling was really that deep… but now… something has changed. You believe him. You really do. And you know you’re falling for him, too, but…

Eddie was the one you wanted for so long… you’ve made so many plans with him… Long term plans. You used to see yourself growing old with him and that’s an image that still somehow haunts your feelings. And now… the fact that guilt surrounds the feelings arising for Bucky inside you makes you feel like a cheater. You didn’t feel that when it was just sex, but now you do. And you’re damn scared.

What if you surrender to your feelings now and go to Bucky and then comes a day you’ll realize that you were wrong and Eddie will still be the one you really want? You wanted him for so long… can that really have changed? How can one let go of that feeling, that certainty of being right for each other, without being afraid of doing the wrong thing? And if that happens, if you do the wrong thing now, you will eventually hurt Bucky and that’s definitely the last thing you want.

That’s fucked up and you know it. But it’s what you’re feeling.

You keep it to yourself, though.  

~~~

It’s a few hours after the girls left your place, you take a refreshing and long bath and are about to put on a movie to relax a bit more for the rest of the evening. Maybe that way you can put your thoughts and feelings in order.

That duality of emotions is crushing your mind. You wanted some time alone and you had that… now, you can’t help the feeling that you need to come to a decision, a conclusion of some sort, you just can’t keep pushing it further. For better or for worse. Or you will lose your mind soon.

A comfort movie is in order for all the thinking you need to do, so you set “The Prisoner of Azkaban” on your TV before you head to the kitchen. You’re still pretty full of all the junk food the three of you made a feast of the whole afternoon, so you decide to prepare just an old recipe of peach iced tea your mom has taught you. Perfect for the hot weather, too.

You’ve just added the ice in the jar when your intercom rings. You frown wondering who could that be and check your phone for any missed calls or messages, finding none before answering the intercom.

“Yeah? Oh… no, yeah, sure, come up.” You press the button to let him in. Your heart beats just slightly faster, wondering what could he possibly be doing there.

“Hi,” he greets, once you open the door after he pressed the ringer.

“Hi,” you answer, and without even thinking, just keep staring at him, blocking his way into your apartment while he stands at your door, holding a big box in his hands.

“Can I come in?” He asks, when you say nothing else.  

“Oh, yeah, of course, sorry.” You step aside, allowing Eddie to walk into your living room with a tight smile on his lips.  

“Please,” you gesture towards your sofa and he nods, walking with you over there, “I was about to pour me some iced tea, would you like some?” You offer, tentativeness still present in your tone, while the big box secured in his hands grasps your attention for a second.   

“Your mom’s recipe?” He asks, his whole face lightening up as he takes his seat.

You chuckle and nod.

“Oh, hell yeah, then.”

You take just a little longer than you actually need to fix the tea for the two of you in the kitchen. For some reason, his presence, after the night before, what you did with Bucky and after you coming to terms that you are, indeed, growing feelings for the other guy… it just unsettles you.

After taking a deep breath or two, you come back to the living room. Some small conversation ensues while you take a seat by his side and you two drink from the tea you’ve just prepared.

“Ahm…What’s that?” At some point you give in to the curiosity and nod towards the box now on your center table.

He smiles, before placing his cup on your table and taking the box in his hands. He shifts on the sofa, making room for placing it on one of the cushions between the two of you. “I was taking a look at it at home earlier, it just… I couldn’t help myself… and decided to come by to show you.”

When he opens the lid, placing it aside, you take in the contents, which makes your heart beat a bit funny at the surprise. You recognize pictures of the two of you, letters, a few souvenirs… All of them represent a memory of your relationship.   

“Oh…” you say. You know all that stuff had been stashed in some place, but you never knew he had taken them with him once he moved out.

“Yeah…” Eddie brushes the back of his neck, peering at you from beneath his lashes, “I guess I really wasn’t that confident about my decision when I left…” he shrugs, looking down at the box again, “I just couldn’t leave it behind.”

You give him a tightened and brief smile, before placing your teacup on the table and starting to fumble through the items inside the box. You let out a breathy laugh when you find a picture of the day you two have met… he had founded a study group on advanced software creating techniques and you were the only one to show up.

“Oh my God…” you laugh.

“Yeah… what a couple of nerds,” Eddie chuckles, looking at the picture.

He helps you through the shuffling when you go through some more pictures from college, his family, your family… the day you two closed the deal to buy the apartment… the letter you received when you were both accepted in the Avengers tech team…

You feel the tears gathering in your eyes before they start silently rolling down your cheeks… It’s a weird sensation, it’s like meeting with an old part of yourself, an old friend. One that has never really left, but you almost don’t recognize anymore… leading to a nostalgic and longing feeling.

They’re all good memories stashed on that box… of course… you guess no one is really keen to proposedly keep a souvenir from the bad ones… but that’s not on what your focus lays right now.  Your attention is caught by a particular thing from the box. A small gasp escapes your lungs at the sight.

You look up at Eddie, whose eyes have been intensely trained on you, before you grab the object in your hands.

It’s a scrapbook you two have made through college years. While you silently and carefully go through the pages your life passes in front of your eyes. Movie and concert tickets… more pictures… a few drawings… software ideas you had together… little notes you’ve written to each other… and then, on the very last couple of pages, there they are.

You remember them. The day you two decided to write a letter to each other, telling how you wanted your future to be.

You roam your fingers through the frayed papers… you don’t have to read them again to know what’s there. You remember. Without knowing, in the end you two had written the exact same thing in both letters… among other small stuff, you two wrote you wanted a kick ass job, live in the city in an apartment of your own… and stay together forever.

Your watery gaze follows when Eddie slides down to the floor and kneels before you, taking your hands in his, “I meant every word then and I still do,” he says, softly, staring deeply into your eyes, “I can’t see my future without you… I just can’t.” He shakes his head, before it drops.

You see how his lips twist before he looks up at you again, with a saddened look on his face, “I know how that guy makes you feel…”

Your body freezes just as your heart does and you feel the precise moment when it splits in two. That heavy sensation comes back to your chest when the image of Bucky pops into your mind and suddenly there are two lives running before your eyes. One there, with Eddie, with everything you've ever dreamed of… the other running straight into Bucky's arms and leaving all of that behind.

And you know there's only one right for you.

You're brought back to reality by the sound of Eddie's voice.

 “I- I know about what happened last night, I, ahm, I’ve heard the girls…” he stammers but holds his hold on your hands when you shift on your seat and he senses your discomfort. “No… it’s ok. “I know it’s new… it’s exciting…” he continues, nodding and hastily licking his lips, “And you deserve to explore that. You do… it’s ok.” He puts on a small smile, “But I want you to know that I’m here. I’m waiting for you. I’m waiting for us… for our future. No matter how long it takes. How much fun you need to have with that guy before you realize what I already know.” He smiles wider, “Because I know you and I are it. We’ve always been it.”

You’re frowning while looking down at him. His words making their way into your senses.  

You free one hand of his secured hold to reach over and cup his smiling face.

He leans into your touch.

You make a decision. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 168

It hit me today that this year is almost over... When in the world did that happen?

This chapter is dedicated to @mustachebatschaos, as the actual debut of Teeth!  I reblogged a post a few days ago about reader comments pointing out things you could improve, and added on that some of the things my readers suggest are the most wild and out there things that I can’t help but add, and...  Here we are! Teeth is just too good to pass up, and I did give the creator a sneakypeak at this chapter so they could make any adjustments needed.  Apparently we were of one mind, and mutual squeeing over them ensued.

Thanks especially to @quantumizedinsanity and @baelpenrose, who both read this chapter while in VC with me and asked all the questions I had hoped to get people asking - and also for helping me talk through answering those questions in the future.  Poking at potential plot holes always helps me shore them up ahead of time.

And, as always, thanks to @charlylimph-blog and @the-raven-fae, just for being you and being there and letting me be a little crazy sometimes.

I don’t know who demanded that Miys put us through to the video and audio feeds focused on the prisoner in question, but by the time the furor on the conference died down, we were staring at a lean, younger human restrained to a medical berth. Odd or not, I was relieved to see that their prosthetic arm and leg were fully intact - there was something offensive at the thought that those might have been removed without consent in an ill-considered attempt at comfort. They had been bathed in some way, however, since the groggy form was no longer coated in blood and various fluids and instead showing medium brown skin, dark braids or locs tied back with a cloth, and blinding white teeth that flashed when they groaned.

“Can they hear us?” I asked softly. Glancing at my peers, it looked like they had broken out into side conversations, but I couldn’t be sure since no sound was coming through.

“Not at the moment, Wisdom.” The reply felt slightly formal and forced, but it wasn’t clear if the formality was forced or if the inevitable next question was unwelcome.

Oh well. Problem for another day. “Patch me through, allow the Council to communicate with me and hear them, but limit the voice. We don’t want to overwhelm them.”  While it felt presumptuous, my job description included leading/being the Welcome Committee, so there was no avoiding it.  Simon had been provided with an entire temporary staff when we were being brought on board, but after nearly a decade of the same crew, this one fell directly on me.

“Hello. Welcome to the Ark.” I kept my voice as pleasant as possible.

Attempted in vain, apparently, as the figure on the berth started thrashing violently.  Garbled syllables erupted at top volume from them.

Tyche groaned. “The volume. Remember when we woke up, it was so loud?”

Agreement filled my ears, one of the few things a group this large could agree on unanimously. I muted my connection to the prisoner. “Miys, can you adjust the volume to match what you use to speak to me?”

“You would think after this long that they would have a better baseline of human-normal hearing,” Huynh grumbled.

Even though they could barely see it, I shrugged. “I asked about it once. Miys said they use that tone to calibrate to the most optimal hearing range for any given being. My optimal hearing isn’t the same as Derek’s, for example, and definitely not the same as Else or a So’Knor.” Once I received confirmation, I tried again. “I apologize for that. Welcome to the Ark.”

The thrashing had stopped, and this time when I spoke, they only moaned and twisted angrily. “Stop. Kill no. Kill no them kill no me kill no you. Danger ghost invisible demon. Air kill crush burn.”

Whatever they were trying to say, it was clear they were begging.

My eyes started burning with tears I couldn’t afford to shed. “Miys, mute the channel, both ways please.”

“Medical scans indicate no cerebral or neurological damage, no abnormalities,” Grey intoned. “Passive scanning showed signal in regions related to intent and language, but none for creativity.”

“No brain damage or birth defects, and they aren’t lying,” Maverick whispered, translating for me more quickly than I could have parsed it on my own.

“Fuuuuck,” Alice groaned. “We are so stupid.” She paused and seemed to realize we were all staring at her. “We wondered how long ago they were taken from the homeworld. That answered it - they’re speaking a language, just not a Terran one.”

Bless all the little fishes, she was right - we were so stupid not to consider that. “It’s like when you talk to Derek with your translator off,” I sighed. “It’s concepts, and it completely tracks, you just have to learn how to fill in the gaps.”

“I don’t understand,” Eino ventured slowly. “We were all implanted with a translator when we woke up. Why haven’t they been, Miys?”

“They have not consented - “

“WHOA,” I interrupted angrily. “I distinctly remember you pinning me down, with your actual arms, and injecting me with one without so much as an apology, much less a request for consent.”

“The humans on board the Ark were provided standard medical treatment for refugee species, which included healing of life-threatening injuries and a translation implant for any species whose planet developed ten or more languages. The need for cooperation is too urgent in such scenarios to allow natural learning of native languages.”

“And where exactly was that in the documents you provided us?” Xiomara asked in a tone that could possibly singe off hair if we had been in the same room - and if Miys had any hair.

“It is not in those documents, but rather in the medical and diplomatic guidelines for those professions, as they exist currently.” Again, the tone was forced, but I was too angry to make more than a mental note that it occurred, rather than to speculate on it at all.

“Tricky fuck,” Huynh muttered before playing his role as the rude one on the Council. “So we’re refugees because our home world is a disaster. But they aren’t even though they are human?”

An odd silence prefaced the response. A very loud, very odd silence, considering that Miys was running at the mental processing speed of a Dyson swarm. “All prisoners must be treated equally, and they are a prisoner at this time.”

I opened my mouth for a very well-thought out response full of every conjugation of a swear word I could think of or make up, but Xiomara held up her hand to speak. “It may not be in the regulations surrounding refugees, but that one is in the regulations regarding prisoners. As an individual, the human pirate can consent to the implant now that they are awake, but if we agree to provide it, we must also provide it to their crew mates.”

“Done.” Arthur’s statement was given with the rock solid certainty that I had only heard from mathematicians dealing with numbers and weapons safety trainers telling you something will kill you. “We can’t negotiate if we don’t understand each other. Show of hands?”

The vote was a formality. At this point, we were beyond tired of the sudden secrecy that was tainting what should have been the home stretch. All hands went up, without exception.

“So let’s get some consent,” he nodded.

Before anyone could even start asking how we would do that, Antoine signalled for the floor - ever the follower of protocol, even with the rest of us shouting like lunatics. “Sophia, record a greeting. We will have it translated through the system into the most common communication of all three other species on the invading vessel, as those are the most likely languages that the human pirate understands.”

It made sense, so I started recording. “Hello. Welcome to the Ark. My name is Sophia, and I am from Earth. I know you are trying to communicate with us, but we do not understand you. We would like to inject a translator into you, with a very long but very thin needle. It will sting, but it will not harm you. I have one in me as well. You may say no if you do not want the translator. We will still speak with you, it will only take longer.”

Once I selected the option to translate, it felt like we could make the trip back to Earth and back to our current location in the time it took to repeat the message in all three forms of communication.  I was deeply concerned that none of the three languages would work, and I could tell that several others on the call and both my partners were equally worried.

The relief was enough to make me resist collapsing when they finally responded after the third repetition, in a lower-pitched but recognizably similar pattern. Glux. Of all the languages on their ship, they spoke the same one as the aquatic species.

Count on humans to be weird.

“Unless you are going to untie me, which I don’t see happening, give me the translator.” They lay as still as a statue while a waldo extended and pierced just below their ear with an entirely-too-long needle.

Sweating at the sight, I forced myself to speak while the calibration percentage slowly increased. “The implant takes a moment to calibrate. My name is Sophia. I am a human. This is the Ark. My role on the Ark is to function as a member of the council that guides the humans on this vessel. We are refugees from Earth.” I repeated the message four more times and was starting the fifth when the calibration reached eighty percent.

That’s when we met Teeth for the first time.

“My name is Teeth. I am so named because I bit my mother the first time I saw her.” The translation was slow, laborious, but I nodded for them to keep going. “I am from Earth. My book says I was born with a different name, in something called Year Eighty-One After.” Gasps filled my ears, but I didn’t interrupt Teeth despite a burning desire to ask all the questions I could feel buzzing into my datapad. “ I don’t know after what. I was three Earth-years old when I was taken by my mother.  She is a queen.” Fingers on the organic hand clawed and then flicked, a deliberate gesture that clearly meant something. “I am proud of this. The people who gave me to her were afraid, and gave her their most precious possession so they could stay on Earth and die of sickness. But I survive.”

I could hear Grey, Antoine, and Arthur arguing in hushed tones. “Glux are sort of matriarchal, like wolves, if you can call it that in a species with eight or nine sexes. The point is, of the three types of gestators, only one of those has the social standing to adopt. If Teeth says their mother is a queen, then their parent might be the captain of their ship,” Arthur hissed. “We have one hell of a starting point if that’s true.”

Antoine tilted his head, considering. “It sounds like this crew, or one similar, went to Earth and was potentially going to abduct and enslave Teeth’s parents. They saw the opportunity to get their child off of a still-radioactive planet, and instead gave up their ‘most prized possession’ in a bluff.”

I muted my audio to Teeth. “Clearly they don’t believe that, so it doesn’t matter. We know they were three, were adopted by a nightmare squid, and bit it the first time they saw it. They’re proud of their adoptive parent, and Arthur might be right that the parent could be captain of the vessel.” Wincing, I thought to myself Let’s hope it’s not one that we killed.

Taking the audio off of mute, I spoke as quickly as I dared. “Teeth. We left Earth seventy-one years before you were born. Does your book say anything about the Before age? If it does, we are from Before.”

“All from the Before are dead,” they insisted. “Humans don’t live that long.”

Well, probably not now at least, I admitted to myself. Out loud, I tried to prove what I was saying. “We have been on the Ark for only ten years for us. For everyone out here, it’s been a hundred years from what I understand.”

“Your ship is old,” they responded, but it sounded like they believed me. “I only aged five years when my mother brought me here, and I have been here for nine years.”

Fun….. Time dilation shenanigans made my head hurt.

“The pirates have been all given translators,” Grey notified me quietly, realizing that I wasn’t looking at messages on my datapad.

I nodded, both at Grey and at Teeth. “For us, it took twice as long to get here, and we are going to our new home - “

“Your prison,” Teeth snarled, clicking their namesake together, along with making pinching motions with their hands. The articulation in the prosthetic was actually distracting in its accuracy. “Humans are not refugees anymore. We are a weapon.” There went that claw-flick again. Pride? Is that what it meant? “My ship came to take you so you could be free, like me. Not trapped on the ground with no way off, so the Geecie can pretend you don’t exist, stockpile you away from everything else.”

My stomach rolled at their words, and I looked to Grey and Antoine.

Grim, pinched faces met my gaze. Slowly, Grey gave the information I was pleading for with my eyes, only it was everything I had hoped not to hear.

“No activity in the creative centers. All activity is in the centers for emotion, logic, and language.”

Teeth clearly believed what they were saying. Which meant that either someone was lying to them, or someone was lying to us.

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[lunaverseimagine]

Whole

Summary: Y/n comes out to their best friend Fred as aroace.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.3k

The frosted grass crunched under your boots with every step you took towards the lake. You rubbed your gloved hands together and suppressed a shiver. You’d normally be sat by the warmth of the fire in this weather, but lately things had been weighing on your mind and you needed a walk to clear your head. You spotted Fred and Angelina leaning against a tree and holding hands. As you approached, the sound of their laughter reached your ears. You smiled at your best friend’s happiness. Fred had never looked more content than when he was with her, and you loved Angelina for giving him that.

Fred’s eyes caught yours across the courtyard and he waved at you with a grin.

“Y/n! Out in this weather? I suppose there are flying merpeople now too.” Angelina gave him a light-hearted shove and called you over. You trod carefully, not wanting to slip down the bank, and said to Fred, “watch your mouth or I might just set you on fire to warm me up.” 

“Is that so?” he jested, and summoned a gust of wind which knocked your feet from under you, causing you to land on your backside and slide the rest of the way down the grassy slope. The three of you were laughing as you pushed yourself to your feet, only to tackle Fred onto the grass. When he looked up at you with a pout from his position on the ground, you simply said,

“I don’t want to be the only one with a wet butt,” before starting up a conversation with Angelina about her potions homework. While you were chatting about the best way to crush bat fangs, you noticed Fred giving you a quizzical glance. He was more perceptive than most people gave him credit for, especially his professors, and he knew that if you were out for a walk at this time of year then something was bothering you. He also seemed to realise that you didn’t want to discuss it at the moment, so instead he chipped in to your discussion with the helpful suggestion of chewing the bat fangs and spitting them into the cauldron.

~*~

In the Great Hall that evening, as you were eating your second helping of cottage pie, a handsome Ravenclaw boy shuffled up to the seat opposite you. He was in some of your classes but however hard you tried, you couldn’t recall his name. He was glancing around and hopping from foot to foot, as though he wanted to sit down but didn’t know if he should. You gave him an encouraging smile, wondering why he was so jittery. He tentatively sat on the seat, as though it might grow fangs and bite him. Fred looked at him and said “alright mate?”. The boy nodded while staring at the table in front of him. Fred’s eyes flicked from him to you, then shared a knowing look with Angelina before they both moved to a different spot on the table. You stared at them in confusion, wondering why they’d purposely left you alone with a boy you only vaguely knew. 

The Ravenclaw gently cleared his throat, and mumbled more to the table than to you, “would you like to go on a date with me y/n?”

You felt your heart race, but not at excitement of being asked out. You played with a loose tag of skin on your thumb, trying to figure out a suitable response. Eventually, after so long the boy looked ready to leave without an answer, you said “I’m really flattered but no, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok.” He replied, standing up from his seat with downcast eyes and a slump to his shoulders that made you think it wasn’t ok at all. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to hastily add, “it’s not you. I’m just… I have feelings for someone else.”

He nodded, accepting your excuse, and slouched back to his table.

~*~

That night, you and Fred were sitting on the sofa in the common room, your legs on his lap as you read a book and he studied one of his new inventions. You loved these moments, when most students had gone to bed, and you could just exist in each other’s company. Things had gotten easier since Fred started seeing Angelina. You no longer felt that there was an expectation for you and Fred to start dating just because you were close. You loved him as a friend, and that was it.

You started to feel Fred’s eyes on you so you turned your focus from your book to him.

“What is it?”

He started wiggling his eyebrows. “So…?” You weren’t sure what he was referring to, and your expression obviously conveyed this because he clarified, “you and Peter?” You recognised Peter as the Ravenclaw’s name from dinner. You shrugged at Fred.

“He asked me out, I wasn’t interested, and I told him so.” You suddenly felt yourself being defensive, even though Fred had done nothing wrong.

“He was cute though, why didn’t you give him a chance?” You thought about how to answer the question but before you could, Fred added “Is there someone else? There is isn’t there. I bet they’re on the Quidditch team. People can’t resist us athletes.” To emphasise his point, he flexed his bicep, and you rolled your eyes.

“Well, that’s what I told him.” You started fiddling with the pages of your book.

“But..?” Fred prompted.

“But there’s not.”

Fred looked a bit surprised, but he regained his composure as he said, “so, why did you say no?” His eyes widened. “Are you into girls? Because it’s totally awesome if you are.”

You let out a breathy chuckle but shook your head, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, what is it then?” When you stayed silent, he added, “is this why you went on a walk this morning? Is this what was weighing on that pretty mind of yours?” You gave him a brief smile and nodded, moving your legs from his lap so you could sit facing him. 

You met his eyes as you said, “Fred, I’m not attracted to anyone. I never have been. Romantically or… physically.” You cleared your throat, but Fred just sat looking intently at you. “And… I  don’t think I ever will be.”

Fred nodded slowly, absorbing this information. “How do you- how do you know? That you’ll never experience the attraction, I mean.”

This was a question you’d expected, and had asked yourself many times while you figured out this part of your identity. 

“Are you attracted to men, Fred?”

He shook his head.

“And do you think you’ll ever be attracted to a man?” Realisation dawned in his features as he got what you were alluding to. You can be certain about a lack of attraction in the same way that you can be certain about its presence, although you’ll admit the former normally takes a while longer to figure out.

“Point well made, y/n. So this means you’re not straight, or gay, or anything else?”

You let out a small chuckle.

“Nope. There is a word for it- well, there’s two actually. Aromantic and asexual. Or aroace for short.”

Fred put a hand on your knee and grinned at you.

“Well y/n, aroace sounds awesome, and I love you. Exactly as you are.” You leaned to forward to grip him in a tight embrace as you felt your eyes welling with tears. You hadn’t realised how worried you were about his reaction until he responded and your gut flooded with relief. He didn’t think you were broken. He didn’t think you weren’t whole. 

You are whole and you are loved, exactly as you are.

End

Thank you so much for reading. These past few months I’ve been figuring out that I’m aroace, and I feel like there’s such a lack of representation. That being said, I highly recommend Loveless by Alice Osman for an awesome aroace main character figuring out her sexuality. Remember, you are valid and you are whole <3 If you liked this fic please like/comment/reblog, it’s super encouraging.

For more of my work, check out my masterlist :3

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone | part 2

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, there will be smut in other parts

Read part 1 here!

A/N: Hey guys! This is part two of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking part 1! I hope you like this one too. Let me know what you think! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please message me! I'll create one soon.

Love, W 🖤

When you sat down next to the blonde you immediately sensed that he tensed. You didn’t like how the things between you turned out to be so awkward. You two were never like that. And now you were scared to say a word to him. Suddenly texting seemed more appealing so you took out your phone again and started typing. You noticed Harrison glancing at you as if he tried to see if you are in a good mood for taking up this conversation. He didn’t want to be noisy and check who you’re texting so he quickly shifted his head to the slides that were displayed by your professor. However, he looked down at his phone when he felt it vibrate just to see that he got a message from you. Frowning, he touched the icon of your contact and read your message.

From Y/N:

Want to go out for a drink with me?

You watched him looking through the text anxiously, hoping that he didn’t get the wrong idea. You wanted to make things right, not only because you hated having unfinished business with people but also because you liked him and his company. Another thing was that he was Tom’s friend. You wouldn’t want him to feel bad about your misunderstanding with his best friend. When you opened your mouth to add something, Harrison turned to you with a lovely little smile. When he nodded some loose curls fell on his face making you smile in return and laugh inside. You didn’t miss the light in his eyes when you moved your hand slightly to put his hair back in its place just as you did with Tom. This time, however, you stopped midway and a crimson flush crept into your face. The blonde’s smile turned into a smirk when he caught up to your actions and before you could do something he moved a little closer to you to give you a chance to brush the messy curls out of his face. But instead of that, you slapped him on the arm and sank deeper into your seat what brought a laugh out of Harrison. He thought that you were adorable in your shyness and he definitely enjoyed making you flustered. The simple gesture made you hope that maybe nothing is lost yet. You just had to apologise and assure him that what had happened was just an accident. It would be easy, wouldn’t it?

After your lecture and interaction with Harrison, you felt a lot lighter. Your mind was at peace again and you could enjoy yourself knowing that everything will be alright between Harrison and you. When you got home the first thing you did was to lay down on a sofa. With a smile on your face, you stretched your body and closed your eyes. This moment of silence was what you needed after all these hours of anxiety and stress. Breathing deeply you slowly started to drift to sleep when the sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“I just got the best news EVER,” very excited Tom marched through the door with an enormous smile on his face. Noticing you laying on the sofa he stopped dead in his tracks hoping that he didn’t wake you. Looking up, you had to laugh at his wild eyes gaze, and tensed figure. You stood up to greet your best friend opening your arms for him. Tom smiled widely and embraced you in a tight hug but his strength and force made you lose your balance and collapse back on the couch. Brunette landed on top of you and you yelped in surprise. You could feel his weight on you but for some reason, it didn’t bother you at all. Actually, you found it really nice to be able to enjoy the way his muscles flexed when he tried to steady himself not to crush you. For anyone who walked through the door, the scene would seem unpleasant but you were comfortable feeling the heat radiating from his body. Every since you two started hanging out, a feeling of comfort and mutual understanding was created. With Tom things were always easy, you didn’t argue much and on top of that, it was really hard for awkwardness in your relationship. You loved him for his incredible ability to turn bad situations into good ones and brush everything off with laughter. Yet, this time you haven’t heard him giggling or saying some playful words to make you blush. You moved your head to look him in the eyes and this time you saw something you’ve never seen before. His gaze studied your face patiently, not missing any spot on your skin. His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to find the right words to say but your beauty was so mesmerising he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your face and you started wondering why was he so nervous out of a sudden. Little did you know that Tom has realised something at that moment. He realised he couldn’t find any flaw in you despite watching you the whole time. He realised that you make him the happiest and that he would never be the same without you. And most importantly, Tom realised that he could never make you as happy as he wished to. He has always made sure you were doing alright and that you knew he was there but he couldn’t force himself to love you. He tried, he really tried to develop some feelings. He would lay in bed at night thinking about you and what is wrong with him that he can’t love such an amazing person. Tom never believed in soulmates but he truly thought you had his heart and soul. When you were gone, he always felt like there was something missing. A puzzle that combines his messy lifestyle with his fucked up mind. You always had the right things to say to make him feel better and he never felt like you were judging him. He truly found someone with a pure heart and soul that is right for him and understands him without words. But if you weren’t the right one, where were they? Truthfully, Tom was tired of being alone. He wanted someone to love him and he wanted someone to love. You were there for him but somehow it wasn’t enough. He lacked the feeling of crazy love. He wanted it to consume him and intoxicate all his senses. He wanted to be in a daze that would make him do all the cheesy stuff his friends would tease him about but he wouldn’t care because of the happiness. It killed him that it wasn’t you. He knew that, all too well, but he didn’t stop being close to you. He wouldn’t dare to even try and lose you. At that moment he knew that he would take up every fight to keep you by his side even if it meant to hurt himself because despite all that you were his home and he needed you to breathe. You were his safe zone and if he couldn’t have you by fate, he would have you by choice.

As the seconds passed by your heart started to beat more quickly anticipating his next move. The way Tom was looking at you made you forget how to breathe. All you could do was stare at his beautiful honey brown eyes sparkling in the yellow light of the lamp standing on the table. Finally, after what felt like hours, Tom whispered "I got the job," seemingly getting out of his thoughts but you saw that he was still trying to figure something out in his head.

"This.. this is amazing, Tom," you replied not paying much attention to what he was talking about since all you could do was drool over him.

"Yeah, I'm going to the USA," he laughed like he couldn't believe he got the part but still didn't move one bit. Tom's body was towering over you making it hard for you to focus on his words.

"Mhmm.. I'm proud of you, Tommy," the nickname quickened his heartbeat as he always got warm inside when you called him that. He thought the nickname was childish but he always melted when it came out of your mouth. He wanted to kiss your forehead as an act of thanking you but you suddenly yawned.

"I'm sorry that I woke you up. I was just excited," his pretty smile was replaced by a pout when he remembered the state he found you in. You took his face in your hands and giggled at his cuteness.

"I was just falling asleep, don't worry," you answered truthfully, not wanting him to feel bad for disturbing your peace.

"Are you still sleepy? We can lay down if you want," Tom proposed, concerned about your lack of sleep out of nowhere.

"Well, I'd say we're already laying down..." hesitation was evident in your voice almost as you were worried to bring up the topic. The look on Tom's face shifted quickly after he registered your words and looked down between your bodies. That was when he felt his crutch touching yours and a wave of embarrassment mixed with lust washed over him. He must have got lost in daydreaming about you not to notice that he was basically crunching you. He was surprised you could even breathe in this state. "But.. I-I don't mind..." your words eased his panic but didn't help the blood coming south.

In the trance, you moved your fingers along his smooth skin hoping that would calm him down. You weren't sure what you were doing but you enjoyed this little moment and didn't want it to end. Tracing the shape of his nose you licked your lips what made Tom close his eyes and exhale deeply.

"We need to stop or I'll do something we will both regret," when the words left his mouth you stopped your movement but kept your hands on his face. Tom was scared to open his eyes. He feared for your reaction. A few seconds passed by while you tried to find the right words. Were you surprised? Yes. But you couldn't fight the smile that crept on your face and the butterflies erupting in your stomach. Although, you weren't sure how you felt about what you've just heard you needed to feel him. It may be wrong but you wanted it.

"What if I don't mind?" you said softly just millimeters from his lips. Tom finally opened his eyes at your confession and you could see the confusion painted on his face.

"I-I-I.... Look um..." this was the first time you've seen your best friend so nervous that he couldn't get the words out. He seemed to be really troubled but he finally gave in resting his own hand on your cheek. "W-what does this mean for u-us?" he couldn't help but ask. Tom didn't want you to think that he was just taking advantage out of the situation. He needed to know your point of view on this because he didn't want to hurt you in any way and this was a dangerous field.

"I don't know but I really want this" your words made the brunette's eyes darken. Licking his lips for the last time, he moved your head closer to him and brushed his lips against yours in a sweet but passionate kiss. Your lips were moving softly in sync as if you kissed for the millionth time. You were making out for a good few minutes until the taste of him was so intoxicating you forgot how to breathe and had to pull out for a second to catch some air. Your break didn't last long because Tom pulled you back in taking advantage of your parted lips and pushed his tongue in. You moaned at the action and the sound made Tom thrust his hips against yours. At that moment you felt something poking your thigh. You didn't want to stop your make-out session but you knew you weren't ready to go further yet so you patted his chest softly to signal him that you wanted to stop. Tom pulled out slowly trying to see if he hurt you in any way. "I'm alright," noticing his worried gaze you assured him that there was nothing bad happening. "I'm just umm... not ready for t-the next s-step," suddenly you got anxious hoping that you didn't say anything wrong to make him upset.

"Oh.." was all he said, not fully realising what you were trying to hint on.

"I mean... you know," you looked down at his bulge hoping that he would understand your clue.

"OH!" he followed your gaze and finally caught up to what you meant. "Noo, don't worry about it. We um.. we don't have to go further if you don't want to," Tom tried to make you comfortable but he couldn't hide the flush on his cheeks that was a result of his embarrassment. He didn't know why he felt so awkward out of a sudden. You, on the other hand, felt more confused than awkward. You had to figure out your own feelings towards your best friend but you couldn't lie to yourself and say that you didn't enjoy it because that was probably the most amazing kiss you've ever had.

"Thank you," you didn't really register your words but it seemed that neither did Tom because he started to get up and fixing his clothes and hair. You only watched him, not wanting to move.

"Do you regret it?" Tom asked in a small voice noticing your absent look. He didn't know how to feel about the situation too. He allowed himself to let loose this one time and he just hoped it didn't destroy your friendship.

"Do you regret it?"

"I asked you first."

"Trying to be smart, Holland?" he genuinely smiled at your remark because then he knew that nothing has changed. You wouldn't joke with him if you were mad or upset.

Taking a deep breath, you got up and turned to face Tom. "I don't regret it. Do you?" he let go of a deep breath he didn't even know that was holding and shook his head. "That's... good." you summed up the situation making Tom burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"You are so weird," you faked an offended look at what he added "But so am I. That makes us a good match."

You nodded your head because maybe he was right. Maybe you two were a good match.

After the incident, things started to get more intense between you and Tom. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or if he made it his mission to frustrate you even more by caressing you while you were falling asleep or casually holding your hand when going on walks. Whatever it was, it rendered you warm inside. You couldn’t fight your butterflies and stop yourself by slowly falling for your best friend. Subconsciously, you hoped you two would end up together, his family loving you and all your friends saying how you make a good match. However, it didn’t seem as he had any intentions to make the first move. Even though Tom was very touchy with you, he never asked you out or even brought up the subject of the relationship. It was even more confusing because he wasn’t messing around with anyone nor he had any female friends he was interested in. You knew because as your relationship with Harrison started progressing you found yourself gushing to him about Tom. Harrison always tried to assure you that Tom liked you too and after many days of contemplating you decided to talk with him about your feelings. You were even more nervous because he was supposed to leave for the USA for his new job in a couple of days. You weren’t sure where this conversation would leave your relation but the fear wasn’t that strong to stop you from confessing your admiration for him.

Tom invited you to his get-away party so that was when you wanted to talk to him. His family wanted to say a proper goodbye before he would leave for long months that’s why they all came to celebrate his success. You were one of the first few people who has come so you helped around the kitchen and talked a bit to Tom’s brothers. You’ve known these people for so long that at this point you treated them like your own family. You had fun talking with Tom’s grandparents and playing with the youngest members of the family. Tom was watching you from the kitchen with a smile on his face as you were humming Baby shark with children. He loved that you felt so comfortable around his family and that they’ve basically accepted you as their own child. His parents would even ask him about you sometimes, hoping that there was something more between you. He always brushed them off saying that you two were just friends because that was the truth. Even though no one questioned your friendship, everyone knew that it wasn’t just Tom who was coming over, it was always Tom and Y/N. When his parents wanted to invite you for dinner or a nice family gathering they would just tell Tom to pass you the invitation. Everyone treated you two as one because they knew that your bond was special and Tom’s family has never seen him happier than when he was with you. They were grateful that he had someone in his life who kept him grounded. “She’s the one, mate,” is what his brothers keep telling Tom. He would just smile mysteriously because it wasn’t true but he didn’t want to let anyones’ hopes down.

When the children ran away you giggled and glanced at the room to spot someone you could talk to. That was when you noticed Tom at the foot of the stairs who was talking to Harrison. He must have sensed you looking at him because he turned his head directly to you. The action made you smile and you started to make your way to take up a conversation with the boys. After finally scrambling through the crowd, you stood eye to eye with Tom who took your hand and led you to his room. You didn’t know where Harrison went but you guessed that Tom wanted to talk to you about something important. Otherwise, why would he take you to his room giving air to Harrison?

Taglist: @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @osterfieldshollandgirl

[tchallasbabymama]

All For Us Chapter 5

Hey y’all, hope you enjoy the chapter a day early! Check out my masterlist to catch up on this story or read my other ones. And, as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome 🥰

Word Count: 5,471

CW: Mention of self-harm

Erik fidgeted in his chair as he waited for his family to walk through the door. He had seen each of them individually at least once, Shuri being the only one who never came back, but something about seeing them all together had him on edge. His right leg couldn’t stop bouncing, and he tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair impatiently. 

“Don’t worry, the Udakus are never on time,” Naomi reassured him as he looked to the clock for the second time in the last minute. Their appointment started five minutes ago.

“They run on CP time, huh?” he joked, trying to distract himself from his nerves. 

“CP time?”

“Colored people time...the name’s dated as hell, but basically Black people ain’t ever on time.”

“That is true of Wakanda as well,” she laughed. “Time is more of a suggestion here.”

“I can fuck with it,” he chuckled but was cut short by the thumping in his chest as the door opened, and T’Challa walked in, holding the door for the rest of the family.

“Your highnesses,” Naomi saluted them. “Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

Naomi had arranged the chairs in her office so that the six of them sat in a circle. Mira sat between Erik and Ramonda, and Shuri chose the seat closest to Naomi. T’Challa sat between his mother and sister and threw a smile Erik’s way.

“Thank you all for coming here today. It is imperative that Erik has a healthy support system when he leaves here, and I just wanted to make sure we are all on the same page. I know you have each met with him individually, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get it all out there and move forward as a unit. Now, I know we all want what’s best for Erik-”

Shuri scoffed, and Naomi turned to her.

“Princess, I heard you still have some reservations about him. Why?”

“He killed my brother,” she seethed.

“Shuri, I am right here,” T’Challa said, exasperated at her unwillingness to see past her anger.

“By the grace of Bast!”

“Shuri,” Ramonda chided.

“Queen Mother, if you don’t mind, I think this is a conversation that needs to happen between these two.”

Ramonda nodded and gestured for Shuri to continue.

“You’re only here because Nakia snatched a heart-shaped herb before he burnt the rest of them to the ground. It’s taken this long for them to even start growing again. All he does is destroy, and I don’t want him here. It’s bad enough you made me heal him, but now I have to look at him every day and pretend to like him, too?”

“You don’t have to like him, Shuri, but he is family-”

“That didn’t mean anything when he threw you over the falls or when he almost killed me, so why should it matter now?”

“Because I’m not that same person anymore,” Erik jumped in.

“Oh, sure. You’re just magically better all of a sudden,” she rolled her eyes and turned back to her brother. “How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing he’s in the palace?”

“Princess Shuri, Erik has been working very hard to overcome his anger and his past traumas. So much so that I see no need to extend his stay past what we originally agreed on.”

“Wait, really?” Erik’s face brightened, and he turned in his seat to look at Naomi.

“Yes. You have shown remarkable improvement, Erik.”

“You mean he can come home soon?” Queen Mother asked, prompting Erik and Shuri to feel very different ways about her use of the word “home.” Erik missed having one, and Shuri hated having him in hers.

“Yes, ma’am, he’ll be out of here in two weeks.”

Mira couldn’t contain her smile as she reached for his hand. They locked eyes, and yet again, the look in his eyes needed no words. They were glassy as they swelled with tears, and a couple fell while Naomi handed him the tissue box.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ramonda asked.

“My bad,” he sniffled as he dried his tears. “I just really want to see Cupcake.”

“She wants to see you, too. I told her you were sick and had to get better before she could, but she’s been asking me about you damn near every second.”

“And me, as well. She is excited to meet you, cousin,” T’Challa chimed in. “‘Do you think daddy will like this?’, ‘When is he coming home?’, ‘Is daddy still sick?’, ‘Can you tell daddy I love him?’”

“Or my personal favorite, ‘Can we bring some to daddy?’ after dinner last night,” Ramonda added.

“She’s still a daddy’s girl, through and through,” Mira said with a sarcastic eye-roll, making Naomi chuckle.

“Yes, mine is the same way. It is quite frustrating,” she joked. “Now, I think it would be beneficial for us to go around the room and get it all out on the table. Princess Shuri already went, unless you have more to say…”

“No.”

“Ok, then King T’Challa, how about you go next?”

He nodded and looked to his cousin.

“I do not think I have said this to you yet, but I am genuinely sorry, Erik-”

“Stop, you didn’t do anything.”

“I know, but I needed to say it. I am also sorry I disobeyed your wishes; that was something I should not have done.”

“I’ll say,” Shuri mumbled under her breath.

“But I am glad that I did. Otherwise, we would not get to see this other side of you.”

“Thanks, man. I was in a bad place, obviously, and, uh...I don’t know, I just felt like a failure...I felt like I had nothing to live for anymore...my pride was hurt.”

Mira slowly pulled her hand back and placed it in her lap, and Erik could feel the tension brewing beneath the surface.

“Anything else, my king?”

“Just that I hope we can move past all of this and build a relationship. You are my cousin, and I am determined to love you whether you want me to or not.”

Erik and Mira both smirked at the king. They were thankful for the kindhearted man and his insistence on cleaning up the bad blood in his family. 

“Queen Mother, do you have anything you would like to share?”

“Yes, actually,” she reached into her bag and pulled out something that had been gift-wrapped. She handed it to Erik, and he looked at her in confusion. “Go ahead, open it.”

Everyone looked on with intrigue as he ripped at the paper, revealing a gold picture frame. Erik flipped the frame over and a lump formed in his throat.

“This is from a gala for the Pan African Council in 1991. It was one of the two times I met him.”

Drops of water splashed on the picture of N’Jobu, and Erik looked up for a leak in the ceiling before he realized the tears were flowing from his eyes. He grabbed another tissue and passed the box around when he realized the others were getting misty-eyed as well. Even Shuri. 

“I, uh...I don’t know what to say...thank you, Auntie,” he croaked as he got up and pulled her into a hug. Mira took the opportunity to take a look at the picture. They had the same look in their eyes, but feature-wise, Erik had to have taken after his mother. There was no doubt about it though, those deep brown puppy dog Udaku eyes were front and center.

Erik sat down, and she handed the photo back to him.

“May I see?” T’Challa asked, and Erik passed it to him, watching as Shuri took a look over his shoulder to see it too. Her face softened a little more, and Erik could swear she saw a hint of sadness there. He passed it back, and Erik simply stared at the photo, fingers lightly caressing the fame.

“Alright, lastly, we have Mira. Anything to add?”

“Not really,” she shook her head.

“Well, then may I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Earlier, you seemed upset when Erik mentioned not having anything to live for. Care to expand on that?”

“Not really.”

“Mira...you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Erik? You said you have nothing to live for, yet your daughter and I were sitting at home waiting for you.”

“I wasn’t in my right mind, Mira. All that mattered was the mission. I lost myself to it. Actually, I lost myself a long time ago, but at the time, nothing could’ve pulled me back...not even you or Imani.”

“What if it happens again. Not for this, but for something else? What if you start working again and go back to your old ways? What then?”

“I won’t.”

“How am I supposed to trust that, Erik?”

“Mira, I’d like to jump in if you don’t mind.”

Mira shook her head and gestured for Naomi to continue.

“I understand your hesitance, but I assure you, I have the utmost faith that Erik has changed. His behaviors were tied to his trauma, and we have been able to work through his feelings of grief, anger, guilt, and self-loathing.”

“Self-loathing?” Queen Mother asked.

“Erik, would you care to…”

“Yeah, sure,” he cleared his throat. “I, uh, sort of hated myself for a long time. Everybody I loved died, and I had some sort of...what did you call it?”

“Survivor’s remorse.”

“Yeah, survivor’s remorse. I felt guilty for not dying.”

Mira looked up at him and her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

“Then I felt guilty for all the shit I did to survive, and how violent I became...then the self-hate kicked in when I realized how good I was at it.” His fingers ran over the scars on his forearm, and he took a deep breath. “These aren’t trophies. They’re my sins.”

The room fell silent.

“How many?” Shuri asked tentatively.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I do,” Mira chimed in. “I’ve tried counting them, but you’re such a light sleeper it’s impossible. I can guess though...I got to five hundred once before you woke up one morning.”

“I don’t want you to look at me differently-”

“Erik, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, but nobody here will look at you any differently if you do. Right?”

Everyone agreed, even Shuri. 

Erik took a deep breath and hung his head before speaking, “Three thousand and nine scars...three thousand and nine people are dead because of me.”

“You’re not that person anymore, Erik,” Naomi reminded him.

“Yeah, but what if I am?”

“You’re not,” Mira reached for his hand again.

“How do you know?”

“Cousin, I can guarantee you that even in the short time we have known each other, you have changed.”

“Erik, you should trust yourself more. You’ve been given the tools you need; you just have to use them.”

He nodded slowly, taking in Naomi’s wise words.

“It also helps if you’re surrounded by people who love and support you.” She turned to Shuri, “Princess, let us work through your feelings.”

“I already said what I needed to say. I don’t trust him...but I’m not saying it’ll be like that forever. Just for now, I still don’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Have you ever had someone try to kill you?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“You never forget the look in their eyes.”

“I understand you, sister. It is not an easy thing to get past...however, it is possible. Look at him now. Do you see those same eyes?”

Erik looked at Shuri, and her stone face softened a little but still stayed pretty wooden.

“No.”

“Look, I get it...I’m your T’Chaka, but I don’t wanna be that person anymore. Not to Mira, not to Imani, not to y’all-”

“Don’t forget yourself. You’re doing this for you, too,” Mira chimed in, and Erik nodded.

“We are still working on self-love, but I feel that the next two weeks will be fruitful,” Naomi said, closing her notebook. “Is there anything else you all need to get off your chests?”

“I have one more thing,” Mira said as she sat up in her chair and turned her body to face Erik.

“I never told you what happened after you left,” she said, trying to keep it together. “I, um...I got depressed again, like when Imani was born. It wasn’t pretty, but I made sure she was good. I couldn’t eat. All I wanted to do was sleep. It got so bad I had to quit my job and go live with Stefan and Havana. I know that’s what you suggested in the first place, but I thought I could handle it on my own. I’m basically a stay-at-home mom now; I take care of the kids while Stef and Ana are at work...cooking and cleaning, and all that jazz. I never thought I would like that life, but it’s nice, and it’s a good way to repay them for letting us stay there. You wouldn’t believe how big SJ is now, and they have a new baby Daveed...things are different now, but it’s nice.”

“Have you...are you seeing anybody?”

“No, but I tried dating...didn’t work out.”

Erik tried and failed to hide the smirk on his face.

“I can’t say I’m sorry about that, but I am sorry about what I put you through, Mira. I shouldn’t have left you two.”

“I know you know that now; I just wish you knew it then.”

He pulled her hand to his lips for a kiss, and she let him.

“Are we still separated?”

Both Ramonda and T’Challa’s eyebrows raised. Neither of them was aware that the two had been having marital problems. T’Challa never even thought to ask.

“Erik, I need to tell you something…”

His breath hitched in his throat.

“I’m not saying it’s what I want now...but I was going to serve you with divorce papers. I had them drawn up and everything. They just needed your signature, but I couldn’t bring myself to give them to you. I was going to give them to you when you came back...if you came back.”

“And now?”

“Now...I don’t know, Erik. I think I have to get to know this new you to decide.”

“That’s fair.” He said to the ground before lifting his head and looking Mira in her eyes. “I’m gonna make you want to marry me all over again, though. Watch.”

--------

“If you don’t sit still, you’re going just like this,” Mira fussed as she tried to braid Imani’s hair. 

“No, I’ll stop!” Imani tried her best not to move, but the pillow she was sitting on was starting to get uncomfortable, and she was getting antsy. Every second that passed brought her one step closer to meeting her daddy, and she couldn’t wait. All she had to do was get through the school day. 

Mira smirked and tilted Imani’s head to the side to start on the last braid right as Shuri walked into the living room and plopped in the chair across from them. 

“Rough night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Over the past two weeks, Shuri had been slowly opening up to the idea of Erik living in the palace, but when she closed her eyes at night, she just kept seeing him lurking over her bed, ready to strike. 

“Something on your mind?” Mira asked through gritted teeth that held a tiny black rubber band.

“No, just...apprehensive.”

“About Erik?” Mira mouthed to her so Imani couldn’t hear. Shuri nodded and sunk deeper into the chair with a sigh. Mira finished up Imani’s last braid and put a couple of beads on the end before kissing the top of her head. “Ok, you’re done. Can you go get dressed?”

“Ok, mommy!” Imani took off, but before Mira could tell her to slow down, T’Challa came around the corner and scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek. Imani’s giggles erupted throughout the expansive living area and forced Shuri to crack a smile.

“Why are you running in my palace?” he playfully chastised her.

“I’m happy I get to meet my daddy. If I put my school clothes on fast, it’ll happen faster!”

“Well, let’s make it even faster then!” T’Challa took off with her down the hall, leaving Shuri and Mira in the living room laughing at his shenanigans.

“When is he gonna have one of his own?”

Shuri’s eyes rolled all the way to the back of her head. “As soon as he stops chasing after a woman who wants to live on the other side of the planet.”

“Nakia still giving him the runaround?”

“Girl, you don’t know the half of it,” Shuri complained. “Maybe you or Erik can talk some sense into him.”

“Maybe...you seem to be warming up to the idea of him lately. How are you feeling?”

Shuri sighed and sat forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her thighs. “I won’t lie and say I’m thrilled, but I understand him better now, and I trust my brother’s judgment. And mama’s. And yours...I want him to be in Imani’s life, but it is just hard to forget his face in that moment, you know?”

Mira nodded, “I don’t, but I do.”

“Maybe seeing him in a new light with you and Imani will help,” Shuri shrugged.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.” 

Just then, T’Challa re-entered the room, “The princess is having trouble deciding which outfit to wear.”

“That’s my queue,” Mira got up from the couch and washed off her greasy hands before strolling down the hallway to help out her little fashionista. She and T’Challa had already laid out three outfit choices, so it just came down to which one she thought her daddy would like best.

“I want to look nice to meet him, but I don’t know which one looks better.”

“Can I give a suggestion?”

“Mhm,” Imani nodded with her brows creased as she thought really hard over which outfit to pick.

“How about the gold sandals from Lala with this two-piece? Yellow looks good on you, and the sandals match your backpack. You’ll look like a little ray of sunshine.”

“Hmmm...Ok!”

“Glad I could help,” Mira chuckled.

“I’ll wear my yellow outfit if you wear your blue one just like it.”

“It’s a deal,” Mira threw over her shoulder as she left the room to go change. When she entered the living room, her cousins and Auntie all smiled at the two of them. Imani’s yellow Ankara print tube top and harem pants matched perfectly with Mira’s blue ones. The only difference was Mira had on some crisp white sneakers and big gold Fulani earrings. 

Mira walked Imani to school the same way she did every day, but this time her head was in the clouds. Even Imani was quiet on the way, the butterflies in both of their stomachs working overtime. When they reached the classroom, Imani turned to her mom, looking at her face that surprised Mira.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She crouched down to her level.

“What if daddy doesn’t like me?” she poked her lip out, and Mira knew she had to act fast before it started quivering, and the tears started falling.

“Like you? He loves you more than anything in this world!” she said excitedly while tickling Imani’s ribs and making her laugh. “He loves you just as much as I do, baby girl.”

“He does?”

“Of course, you’re his Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Mhm, that’s what he used to call you because you’re so sweet.” Mira pretended to gobble up Imani’s fingers, making her giggles chase away any doubts she had about her father. “Now, you  ready for school?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said excitedly.

“Alright, I’ll see you at 2. Be good.” Mira kissed Imani’s cheek and stood back up to her full height.

“I will, mommy. Sala kakuhle!” she waved goodbye and ran to go play with her friends while Mira sent the teacher a smile before heading back to the palace. 

When Mira was nervous, she liked to busy her hands with something, so she took some time to anxiously clean and organize her already clean quarters. She would have to sit in on another council meeting shortly, and although she wasn’t looking forward to having all that attention on her again, she was determined to go in there with her head held high.

Just as she started scrubbing the sink, her alarm went off telling her it was time for the meeting. She washed her hands and squeezed lemon juice on them to get rid of the bleach smell before leaving her quarters and traveling to the business side of the palace. When Mira entered the throne room, she slid into the empty seat between Ramonda and Shuri just as T’Challa started speaking.

“As you all know, Erik will be discharged from Ithemba Center today at noon, and we have the press conference scheduled at five. He has already been briefed on it, and while he is still apprehensive about addressing the nation, I have worked with him over the last week and it seems as though he will be fine. Any questions regarding the press conference?” The council members shook their heads and T’Challa continued, “Now, I have spoken to each of you about his community service, and have finally decided on the order. I would like him to start with the Jabari as a member of their fire and rescue team, then transfer to mining vibranium before moving to border patrols. Then he will work at the River tribe’s animal sanctuary, and he’ll end his service by working as janitorial staff in the market. The order is subject to change if necessary.”

“My king, are we sure we can trust him in the Mining and Border provinces?” Tendayi, the River tribe elder spoke out, making Dama and W’Dani nod along.

“Yes, I have faith in him. Any other questions?”

Mira tentatively raised her hand, not sure if she was allowed to talk or not. T’Challa nodded her way, and she cleared her throat before speaking, “I was wondering if we could move with him? He’s been away from Imani so long and once he comes back, I don’t want to disrupt her life any more than it’s already been disrupted.”

“That is understandable. Housing for the three of you will be provided in each province.”

“Thank you,” she turned to the elders, “and I don’t want to be a freeloader, so if there’s anywhere I can help out just let me know.”

“Mira, of course you and Imani are welcome to stay with us, but if you really want something to do we can find a job for you, too.” Ife stated as the other council members nodded along in agreement. 

“I’d like that. I need something to do,” she chuckled. “Thank you.”

“We will work something out,” Dama winked her way.

“We will miss the two of you around the palace, but I think that is a great idea. You will be provided with transportation to get Imani to school.”

“Thank you,” Mira smiled.

“You are welcome. Now, is there anything else?” T’Challa was met with silence as he checked the time on his beads and looked back at Mira. “Good, it is about time we go bring him home.”

Mira’s heart thumped in her chest as she nodded.

“Meeting adjourned.”

The council members filed out of the room, sending well-wishes to Mira as they went. 

--------

Erik happily signed his discharge paperwork, but his internal celebration was cut short by a knock at his door. He half expected it to be Mira, but he looked up and saw Naomi in his doorway. 

“How are you feeling today?”

“Excited and nervous.”

“I bet,” she chuckled. “Remember what we talked about, and you will be fine.”

Erik nodded and took a deep breath.

“Ready to go? I will walk you out.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Erik took a deep breath and they walked through the facility in silence before they reached the lobby. There stood T’Challa and Mira with huge smiles on their faces that infected Erik as soon as he saw them. Mira pulled him into a hug and held him tight as she rocked him from side to side.

“I’m so proud of you, Erik.”

“As am I, cousin.”

Mira let Erik go and he dapped T’Challa up, pulling him into a hug next.

“Thanks. Both of you...I couldn’t have done all this without you.”

Mira wiped a stray tear from her eye and looped her arm around his. “Let’s go home.”

“Home, huh? I like the sound of that,” he mused.

The three of them made their way back to the palace where they were greeted by a tearful Ramonda and a still apprehensive Shuri. She sent him a small smile, though, and that was enough for him. The family sat around the kitchen table talking and laughing as if it had always been that way, and Erik found their familiarity to be a comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Ramonda constantly pushed food in Erik’s direction, and even though he had a late breakfast he just couldn’t say no. He stuffed his face full of eggah and freshly squeezed mango juice until he had his fill and sat back in his chair with his hands resting on his full stomach.

“I’m ready for a nap. Where am I staying?”

“This week you will be in the palace, as well as during your time working for the Merchant tribe-”

“You’re gonna hate it…” Mira sang under her breath with a wry laugh, making T’Challa smirk.

“But, other than that, you will be staying with the various tribes during your volunteer time.”

“What exactly am I supposed to be doing?” he sent a suspicious look Mira’s way.

“We can discuss that later. For now, let us get you settled in.”

Erik nodded and followed behind Mira and T’Challa as they walked through the winding palace hallways. They took him to his living quarters, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that he would still be living with Mira and Imani.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me with you or not.”

“Oh, you’re sleeping in the guest room...but I wanted you close for Imani.”

“Fair enough,” Erik nodded and walked around the space, checking it out.

“I will leave you two alone to get settled in,” T’Challa turned and left the space.

Mira looked at her beads. “You might want to go ahead and get ready, we’ll be leaving in thirty minutes.

“Leaving?”

“Mhm, we have to pick up Imani from school.”

“W-we do?”

“Yeah...are you ok?”

“Nah. What if she doesn’t like me?”

Mira bursted out laughing and caught him off-guard. “She asked me the same thing this morning.”

Erik just smiled and shook his head. He had nothing to worry about.

“Just like her daddy, huh?”

“Just like him,” she smiled back.

“I guess I should get ready, then. I want to make a good first impression.”

“Erik, you’ll be fine…I promise. She already loves you.”

He stood and kissed her forehead before turning and walking towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head. Mira tried to avert her eyes, but his rippling back muscles called to her. Her face felt hot, and she bolted out of the room, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he made her.

He did.

A little while later, Erik emerged from the bathroom very well moisturized and followed by a cloud of steam. He stood there for a few minutes in his towel, staring at the clothes in his huge closet, not knowing what to put on his body.

“Mira!” he called to her in the other room. She playfully rolled her eyes and headed his way, already knowing what he wanted. Like father, like daughter.

“You rang?” she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, trying like hell to keep her eyes above his collarbone. 

“I don’t know what to wear.”

“Wakandan or American?”

“Uh, American, I guess.”

“Do you want to match Imani?”

His face lit up, and she took it for a yes, pulling out a pastel yellow t-shirt and a pair of jeans with matching sneakers. 

“This outfit with gold accessories.”

“Thanks,” he grinned at her, and Mira tried not to get lost in his dimples. She was failing miserably, so she left him to his own devices. She missed the satisfied smirk on his face.

--------

Erik could feel the eyes on him as he walked through the city with Mira and T’Challa. Some were cold, but most were simply confused by his presence. 

“Ignore them,” Mira whispered up to him, and he nodded, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let anything ruin this moment. 

They arrived at the elementary school and Mira went in to get Imani while the two men waited outside. As soon as Imani saw her mother, she jumped down and ran over to her.

“Hey baby girl, how was your day?”

“Good! I made a new friend,” she said proudly.

“You did? I’ll have to meet them sometime soon. Right now we have to go see daddy,” Mira’s eyes flashed with mischief and Imani’s joy radiated throughout the room. “Ready?”

Imani was so happy she could barely speak, so she just nodded her head. Mira waved goodbye to the teacher, and the two of them traveled back down the hallway hand in hand.

Erik’s fingers tapped his thigh in rapid succession and he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I can hear you overthinking, cousin.”

Erik started pacing back and forth and was about to open his mouth to say something when the doors to the school swished open. T’Challa held his hand up and started recording with his beads.

“Daddy!” Imani saw Erik and dropped her backpack as she ran to him. For a moment, he was frozen in time, but as she got closer he snapped out of it and crouched down for her to run into his arms.

“Hey, Cupcake,” his voice cracked as he held her tight. Her little arms wrapped around his neck like she never wanted to let him go, and he couldn’t help the tears that streamed from his eyes. Mira and T’Challa tried their best to hold it together, but neither could blink the tears away.

“What’s wrong?” Imani heard him sniffle and pulled back to look at his face.

“Nothing, baby, I’m just happy to see you.” He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to Bast to thank her for letting him live another day to see his daughter once more.

The four of them walked back to the palace with Imani talking Erik’s ear off the whole way as he carried her on his hip. The first thing she did when they got there was to show him her dolls, all of which were fully decked out in the most beautiful doll-sized finery T’Challa could get his hands on. Erik took in the sparkly purple walls and the finger paints by an easel in the corner of the room. Her canopy bed was the main attraction, though, and made her feel the princess she was.

“Damn, T did all this?” Erik asked as Mira entered the room behind him.

“Yep,” she laughed. “He’d do anything for that little girl.”

“Remind me to thank him later…” he trailed off as his eyes caught sight of an enormous, stuffed jaguar by the window seat. A goofy smile took over his face, and Mira couldn’t help but swoon. Over the past few weeks of her getting to see Erik at Ithemba, she could tell his spirit was lighter. However, it wasn’t until the three of them were sitting in Imani’s room playing with her dolls that she thought Erik actually looked happy. And not just happy, but happier than she had ever seen him. His smiles actually reached his eyes for the first time since before he left for Wakanda, and she loved to watch the two of them interact with each other. Erik was a gentle giant when it came to his baby girl, and all his fierceness flew out the window when Imani started popping butterfly clips in his locs. 

Erik noticed Mira was lost in her thoughts, so he reached over and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it and looked into her eyes, once again conveying his soul with a single look. 

He was home for good this time. Next Chapter

Taglist: @ladymac82​, @kitesatforestp​, @harleycativy​, @raysunshine78​, @maddeningmayhem​, @theblulife​, @motheroffae​, @love-mesome-me​, @toni9​

[lucientelrunya]

Like a lonely house pt 3

Phew, I feel a little like that bird meme "the risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math" (which I really am *points to the 70 years that are actually 80 years* !!), with how I went "Huh, there is no 50.000+words slow burn of them, but I want!!!" and my brain was like "well, do it yourself. Here, have Chapter 1, 3, 6 and 9, I already prepared them. Oh and here is some Ba Ye+Wu Xie-friendship" And then I struggle with how to bridge the gap between those chapters.....

This part is me struggling really hard. Trying to bridge those gaps and trying to puzzle Mystic Nine-Canon and Book-Canon together. Like, Wu Laogou??? He wasn't even born? My perfectionism can't handle this!! But I guess I am like Hamilton, I'll never be satisfied *sigh*, so ... yeah. Feel free to point out any mistakes you spot!

I should definitely add that this is canon-divergent... ish (which canon???), I'm not sure if there is anything I should warn about in this part, maybe just more sadness? But @psychic-waffles and @gaiahenshin wanted someone to hug Zhang Rishan so ... here you go I guess ^^°°° (I see those tags and reblogs and favorites and I am beyond thrilled every single time, I don't even know how to react!)

It takes a conscious effort to make his lungs work properly again and take a deep breath. Fo Ye had entrusted him with his legacy and he will do everything he can to not disappoint him any further. He has to face the consequences of what he has done, he has to. But before he can get a grip on himself someone tips his chin up to shine a flashlight right into his eyes. He automatically flinches back from the blinding light, dislodging the hand from his face in the process and finds Huo Daofu staring at him, flashlight in his hand and one brow raised. “Back with us?” he asks, eyes scanning Zhang Rishan’s face methodically and only taking a step back once he nods slowly. How long had he stood frozen, trapped in his thoughts for Huo Daofu to come over and start to worry?

“Good. Any more insights on god-radio?” What is he talking about? "God-radio?" Zhang Rishan repeats slowly, confused, which only makes Huo Daofu raise both brows this time. He pointedly looks over at the mural where Zhang Rishan's fingers are still touching the picture of said god. Ah, they must have thought it was still somehow communicating with him.

“Time travel”, Zhang Rishan mutters, trying to ignore the way Luo Que hovers anxiously at his side and the way Ba Ye has his hands wrapped around his upper arm like he had always done when he wanted to hide behind him or was whining about something (and the possible connection between those two things). His words cause several confused “huh”’s from different directions. Taking a slow deep breath he braces himself to say the words, to confess and take the blame for this mess. “No, I didn't get any further godly insights, but I think Ba Ye is right, he never died, he was, as you phrased it so nicely, plucked from the past and put here, now”, he says, inclining his head at Wu Xie.

“But why?” Ba Ye asks and Zhang Rishan makes himself turn his head to look at him when he says his next words. “Because of me.” And there it is. “Because this god was inside my mind and it was so incredibly thankful I gave it its freedom that it wanted to give something to me in return, to grant me a wish.” Not that he had wished for Ba Ye to be ripped out of his time, exactly, his thoughts had been a jumbled mess at that moment. He had never consciously wished for anything in particular. But Ba Ye’s sudden disappearance in the middle of a war had torn a hole into Fo Ye’s heart and, by extension, into Zhang Rishan’s (not only by extension, of course, because Ba Ye had been important to Zhang Rishan, too - is important - but to Fo Ye he had practically been family). He could have said how Fo Ye had looked for Ba Ye for months, for years, with a war raging right on their doorstep, when thousands of people were dying or disappearing, when the city they had so desperately tried to protect had been burned to the ground. How Fo Ye had never truly gotten over not being able to find him - save him - or at least find out what happened. He had felt Ba Ye’s absence all his life, a regret he couldn’t let go of, not even on his deathbed. A regret Zhang Rishan had taken into his own heart, after Fo Ye’s death, added to his own regrets and moulded into a lump of regret-failure-pain-bitterness-sorrow that his trained mind still hasn’t filed away properly. He has failed Ba Ye, too, and has missed Ba Ye, too. And this is his mess, this is what his jumbled thoughts had made a god do, so he leaves it at that.

Zhang Rishan is prepared for anger, for reproaches, for being smacked again, but Ba Ye’s face is unreadable and he doesn’t say anything, his fingers around Zhang Rishan’s arm only slightly tightening their grip. He waits for something - anything - to happen, (maybe for the sky to fall down or the earth to open up and swallow him), for him to wake up and realize everything’s only just been a dream - nightmare? - or for one of them to tell him he’s crazy and there’s no way this could be possible. And someone does: “But that’s impossible, that would be a paradox”, Wu Xie says and Zhang Rishan looks at him pointedly.

“A bootstrap paradox, to be exact”, Huo Daofu remarks and really, that’s the part of all of this he wants to comment on? “A what now?” Pangzi asks, squinting at Huo Daofu and Zhang Rishan is glad he is not the only one who has no idea what Huo Daofu is talking about. “A bootstrap paradox. It basically describes phenomena with a cause-effect-loop just like this. I mean, you don’t know my gran, but she was absolutely obsessed with the famous Qi Tiezui so I don’t know how many times I heard the story of his tragic, mysterious disappearance and all the questions and the search and Zhang Da Fo Ye’s heartbreak.” He looks like he wants to roll his eyes in annoyance at the mention of his grandmother. “But that’s exactly that. He vanished and you wanted to find out why and that wish brought him here in the first place. So what came first? There is no discernable point of origin for- what, I like Sci-Fi, don’t look at me like that!”

It is somehow reassuring and disconcerting at the same time that Huo Daofu of all people manages to sum up his thoughts like this, aside from his guilt. And that he is able to put a name to this, even if that doesn’t mean it’s a real thing. Fiction is fiction after all. How can there even be such a thing? But then, how could there be a god chained to a cave or a mysterious force controlling people like that or golden coffin water that saved people from certain death? After everything else he has already seen and lived through or just heard about in his life he shouldn’t be so doubtful. It’s also quite unsettling how much Huo Daofu knows about Ba Ye’s disappearance and how casually he mentions those details. But Ba Ye doesn’t seem too upset about the mention of Fo Ye’s heartbreak, at least for the moment. Instead he perks up at Huo Daofu’s words.

“Good, good! After all you heard and all you read about that then it must be a real thing, so I think we can all agree that all of this is real and I am real!” And, curiously, Wu Xie looks at Liu Sang, who jerks his head in a small gesture of confirmation that’s not really a nod. But it is obviously enough for Wu Xie to smile at Ba Ye and nod. “Yes, I think we can. And I wanted to ask you something. You were the one who stole one of my grandpa’s dogs, right?” The question makes Ba Ye laugh awkwardly and let go of Zhang Rishan’s arm, so he can gesture at Wu Xie.

“Of course that’s what he would tell his grandchildren about me. Let me tell you, I took out that dog’s gallstones and I brought it back safe and sound! And he acted like I murdered it!” Wu Xie laughs at the face Ba Ye makes, or maybe his helpless gesturing. “He always said you kidnapped that dog just to get back at him.” Zhang Rishan isn’t sure if he imagines how the conversation tiptoes on the line of ‘friendly conversation’ and ‘fishing for information’. But he hadn’t been present for the whole Dog-stealing-thing, so he keeps listening, ignoring Pangzi who starts to tease Huo Daofu about his obvious love for science fiction and then continues to question him about his favorites.

“Aiyah! That’s just what I told Fo Ye, that Wu Laogou would never give me his dog if I asked him because he would think I wanted to get back at him. But I really wasn’t! We needed his gallstones to cure Mo Ce so Fo Ye said I had to steal it if I wouldn’t ask for it. So I stole it, but as I said, I brought it back better than new, freshly cured. And he even made me apologize to the dog!” That is actually something he hadn’t known, but Wu Xie laughing and saying “Of course he would!” is enough to finally fully convince him that all of this is real. It puts his mind at ease and shifts his focus to other things he still has questions about.

They should definitely find out more about this god and the people that imprisoned it. He takes out his phone to take some photos of the mural and finds it mostly covered in white, but just like before it just crumbles away in little flakes. Surprisingly his phone still works and there is no trace of dampness to it. For a moment he stares at the screen and then at his arm, where Ba Ye's hands had grabbed him. The dried white stuff has crumbled away where the cloth had been moved or touched, leaving no trace, no lingering wetness. Deliberately taking note of every part of his skin he realizes that actually nothing feels wet or damp, even though he practically swam in that liquid. He can only recall the feeling of the liquid clinging to him and dragging him down like water-soaked and heavy clothing would do, but it seems highly unlikely that he was unconscious long enough for his clothes to completely dry. It's like whatever was in the pool only wrapped itself around him, like a cocoon, but didn't soak through anything.

Luo Que is still beside him, silently watching him. His arms are covered in white flakes, too, so he must have helped Pangzi get him out of the pool. “Do you remember what the liquid felt like?” Luo Que looks confused for a moment, furrowing his brows until his eyes drift down to his own arms and he seems to get what Zhang Rishan is asking. “Not really like liquid, it felt cool but not wet at all”, he answers, rubbing at one of the larger stains that crumbles away under his fingertips. This only confirms his suspicions, he wants this stuff analyzed. Luo Que finds a zip-lock-bag somewhere in his backpack and together they manage to get at least some of the white flakes and dust into the bag, although it seems to disintegrate once it gets shaken off whatever surface it had clung to.

Wondering if this is even really a tomb he takes pictures of the whole mural. It seems more like a temple - no, they didn’t worship the god here, so more of a prison for a god if there is a word for such a thing. He turns only to find Ba Ye watching him, staring at his phone. Of course, the kinds of cameras Ba Ye knows were big and bulky so he hands it to Ba Ye. “It’s a camera and a phone”, he explains, which only makes Ba Ye stare harder, turning the device in his hands. “It’s so small!” His wonder makes Zhang Rishan smile and he promises to show Ba Ye what it can do later.

Which seems almost like a cue for them to decide to carefully explore the rest of the tomb for more information and to find out if it really is a tomb. They take the dagger, the only remarkable thing on the altar and maybe something that can help them find out more about the people that used it. Maybe at least how old this cave is. Zhang Rishan is still unsure if it’s a tomb or a prison, even after they find two more caves with clay jugs filled with human ashes. Cremation is not exactly a common burial tradition for this region and there are no grave goods at all. Not one single treasure, to Pangzi’s great disappointment, no more murals, no scripture, nothing. It’s mostly a disappointment in terms of exploration, but maybe they can find out some more.

Since it already got dark when they reached the tomb they decide to spend the night in the cave with the pool, which is the only one with enough room for all of them (and they don’t really want to sleep next to rows of human ashes). It’s still quite dark, even with Pangzi’s heater instead of a fire but more comfortable than outside where Liu Sang had heard rain and thunder. None of them goes to check, there is no need to hurry back, they can spend one night in the cave and hopefully the rain will have stopped the next day.

Reception in the cave is strong enough to mail the pictures to some contacts and ask them to look into it. Ba Ye watches him curiously while he types in the message and Zhang Rishan shows him all the other functions - or at least everything he frequently uses his phone for, which makes Pangzi laugh. “Ahh, President Zhang,” he scolds, using the title he had never used before. “You are all about work! Show the poor man some good things! Here, look at this game,” and he tucks on Ba Ye’s shoulder to get him to lean over his own phone.

“Pangzi, the ‘poor man’ doesn’t have a phone to send you money for your stupid game”, Wu Xie leans on Pangzi’s other shoulder, grinning and obviously finished with his phone call. “Ah, Tianzhen, pay attention. I’m already done with that one, this is a new one. Here, look!” Judging by the way all three of them look at the phone it must be something cute and Zhang Rishan finds himself smiling again, glad and thankful that they include Ba Ye so effortlessly. He will need people who can care for him and help him if he decides he won’t forgive Zhang Rishan after they get a chance to talk about everything that has happened since Ba Ye vanished.

This thought wipes the small smile off his face and he distracts himself by texting Liang Wan, asking her when she will be back from her trip because he wants her to check Ba Ye, blood tests and all. He will do everything he can to make sure Ba Ye is okay (or as okay as he can be) and has everything he needs for a life in the 21. century. Which is another reason why he offers Ba Ye his sleeping bag, who simply refuses, adamant that they can share. They end up with Zhang Rishan sitting on one half, leaning his back against the wall and Ba Ye using his leg as a pillow, curled up next to him on the other half. It’s familiar, but he represses the memories, busying himself with shrugging out of his coat without waking Ba Ye to drape it over him because he can feel him shiver against his leg. It seems to be getting colder but he doesn’t mind. Ba Ye doesn’t wake, but when he looks back up Wu Xie smiles at him from where Pangzi is halfway wrapped around him, head on Zhang Qilings lap.

When they pack up the next morning it’s still raining and it’s really noticeably colder than before. Zhang Rishan lets Ba Ye keep his coat, he will need some protection against the rain in his thin changshan, even if the thick forest they had hiked through should offer some protection against the rain. But when they leave the cave there is no more forest, only muddy ground where lush undergrowth had been and some tree stumps that look long dead.

“Well, the forest was unusual”, Liu Sang says but still seems just as perturbed as everyone else. For a moment they just stand there and look around them. “I guess they really needed that god to grow something around here”, Pangzi jokes, but he sounds uneasy about it. And how could they not be, with miles of dead land around them where hours before there had been fruit trees and berry bushes in abundance. Zhang Rishan represses a shiver of uneasiness and just wants to leave this place as soon as possible. He is not the only one. Instinctively they walk faster on their way back, or as fast as they can. The rain had made the ground slippery with mud and dead plants. None of them feels comfortable about stopping for the night but it’s safer than trying to navigate through the dark. Thankfully the rain stopped some time before that and they manage get a fire going, but still all of them are quiet and thoughtful, no trace of the easy banter of the day before.

They are packed and ready to go with the first light of the next day. Without the rain the ground dries up fast and the sun is too bright and too warm, which is actually typical for this region. At one point they cross a very visible line where the dead zone ends and there are plants and trees again, but they don’t stop to inspect it further, too glad to be out.

It’s mid afternoon when they reach the end of the road where they had left their cars and from there it’s only roughly another two hours to drive to the small village where they had spent the night before setting out on this endeavour. The villagers don’t seem to know that a whole forest has vanished and happily accommodate them again in the small inn. They had seemed to avoid the general area of said forest and hadn’t wanted to talk about it before, just whispering about local legends of a ‘man-eating wood’. Luckily the owner of the small inn doesn’t seem to remember their exact number or he simply doesn’t care that they left the allegedly cursed forest with an additional person. He gives them the same rooms (which are actually the only rooms available) and goes off to prepare dinner.

They disperse to their rooms to clean up and rest for a moment until dinner is ready. Wu Xie had made sure that Zhang Rishan shares his room with Ba Ye so they can talk, but both of them seem a bit reluctant to start. They wash in a somewhat uncomfortable silence until Zhang Rishan takes off the bandages, inspecting the two cuts on his arms and is surprised at the 2 neat rows of staples. He hadn’t realized they were that long and deep that they required stapling and is actually impressed at Huo Daofu’s level of preparation for such a small trip. He obviously knows what he is doing, the cuts are clean and already healing nicely. “Let me help you”, Ba Ye takes the fresh bandages out of his hand, and starts slowly wrapping them around Zhang Rishan’s arms.

“I understand there are a lot of things that have happened since I disappeared, so just tell me”, Ba Ye’s voice is quiet and he keeps his eyes on his hands. And, taking a deep breath to brace himself, Zhang Rishan tells him. About the second attack on Changsha, the third, and finally the fourth one when they lost and everything they had tried to protect had been destroyed. He doesn’t go into detail about all the lives that were lost in the war, while Ba Ye’s fingers work slower and slower until they stop, hovering over Fo Ye’s bracelet. Zhang Rishan pulls his arms away to tuck down his sleeves, hiding the bandages and the bracelet alike, while he only briefly mentions the destruction and despair. Ba Ye had seen enough of that after the first attack on Changsha. He tells him about the years after the war, how they slowly rebuild and how Fo Ye kept looking for Ba Ye. There are not only sad things to say - Fo Ye had been happy in his marriage with Xinyue, Er Ye had been pleased with his new apprentice, the Huo-Clan had thrived, just like the Xie-Clan - although those outweigh the good things, because one by one he recounts the deaths of everyone Ba Ye knows.

“I’m sorry”, he finishes and hates that the words don’t do justice to the depth of his feelings. “You lost them too”, Ba Ye says, his voice surprisingly steady and almost gentle, and Zhang Rishan stares at him, at a loss. Yes, he did. But little by little, parts of his world crumbling away, piece by piece, until only duty remained. He’d had time to adjust to the holes, find ways around them, new paths that had grown old and used and then been torn away, too. What he had lost in the course of 80 years Ba Ye had lost in one day, one moment, one blink of an eye.

“Yes”, he says and doesn’t know how to put into words that their pain shouldn’t be compared, because there are not enough words to even begin to describe this. Pain is something he has been trained to file away into different threat levels, into different boxes. He is not allowed to have one named ‘unbearable’, but he doesn’t know how else to label the pain of that one moment when the worst thing has happened and it feels like the world just stops, just shatters and falls to pieces, never to be whole again. But everything stays the same. It’s just his world that shattered, his heart that has been torn apart never to be whole again. He is the one who changed, not the world. And he doesn’t even fathom himself how he had to change to survive that, who he had to become. Because he had become a person that would cause that kind of pain to someone else like this. He had killed countless people in his lifetime, on purpose as a Zhang, as a soldier, in the war or by mistake, by failure, by not being able to save them but he had never thought himself capable of such cruelty.

Whatever Ba Ye reads in his face (or maybe in his heart, because Ba Ye had always been good at reading hearts), it makes him knit his brows. Not in anguish or sorrow but something more akin to chagrin and he grabs the sides of Zhang Rishan’s sweater to roughly tug him forward into a bone crushing hug. And Zhang Rishan allows himself to be moved, just like he had always allowed himself to be moved whenever Ba Ye was tugging on him.

Ba Ye presses his face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping tightly around his sides, fingers digging into his shoulder blades and Zhang Rishan can feel the shaky inhale against the bare skin of his neck. Carefully he wraps his arms around Ba Ye’s shoulders and holds him up when he feels the other man lean most of his weight on him. He doesn’t say anything, when he feels the wetness of quiet tears against his shoulder, just closes his eyes, offering whatever comfort he can offer like this.

[rpbetter]

PSA - Positivity

Yes, positivity is important. No, not all positivity is the same, and when we talk about “positivity” in the RPC, we need to be aware of that.

I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but a lot of the “positivity” around is performative positivity, passive positivity. It’s neither helpful nor all that positive. It’s just yelling about and pressuring for positivity, while expending no personal effort to give meaningful acts of any such thing. If you really give a shit about “spreading positivity,” uplifting mutuals and the community, you won’t balk at this. You’ll assess your behavior and try to do better.

Examples of some passive/performative positivity:

reblogging statements like “we NEED to get back into the habit of POSITIVITY” and adding tags or direct statements on the reblog that you “better see everyone reblogging this” and stopping there, with a demanding threat of, at least, shaming

copy-paste, especially anonymous, positivity chain messages (that frequently cite things contrary to the mun and/or muse’s characteristics/personality/writing)

reblogging the “I actually enjoy seeing this user on my dash” and/or “I actually like following this user” etc. style posts - it’s honestly not positive, you’re implying that you don’t like seeing, following, or interacting with some, and the overall tone of the post and action is once again shaming and demanding (not to mention, everyone else’s dash is nothing but this shit while 10+ mutuals wank over each other in this manner)

reblogging PSA’s about how to spread meaningful positivity, then doing none of it

sending an emoji meme in that denotes extremely simplistic ideas of what you like about the poster, leaving it at that

random posts of how much you love everyone, citing exactly nothing or the same handful of easy to throw out, applies to a large amount of people (or it doesn’t, but we all know everyone wants to feel like they write well, have interesting muses, etc. and it plays into this) - you sound like that drunken person every bar has that goes off about how much they LOVE EVERYONE SO MUCH, not like you’re actually encouraging anyone specifically

blowing smoke up people’s asses/using requests for concrit to do nothing but give useless ass-pats about how infinitely great they are in all areas of writing and portrayal

Examples of some meaningful positivity:

engaging with partners and mutuals on their posts - liking headcanons, commenting on answered memes, liking/commenting on OOC posts

getting specific about what you enjoy in their writing, their muse portrayals, threads, headcanons, instead of the copy-paste or emoji route

appreciating mutuals and partners in visible ways (like those stated above, sending ask memes, paying attention to what they post and their muses, showing them respect and interest as real human beings) regularly, without prompting or being guilted and shamed into it

being honest, but polite and respectful, when a mutual posts a meme requesting concrit/asking what you like about the muse or writing and what you’d encourage growth with

when sending an emoji meme in about why you follow, what you like, why you stayed etc. add something to it that is specific about why

responding to replies OOC (where applicable, not all partners mesh well enough for this or desire much OOC conversation), telling them not only that you got it and liked it, but what you specifically enjoyed the most in the reply

seriously, be specific when giving positivity, your partners and mutuals are individuals and deserve to be treated as such with receiving specific-to-them comments on their writing

generally, being respectful of others - the whole environment is far more positive when you read and respect rules, boundaries, and muses, even if that means respecting that you and another mun might not work out together

It’s a minimal effort to actually bother with paying attention to the people you interact with, to take the attention you’ve paid and apply it to meaningful, individual commentary and actions. If you cannot handle this, you have too many people to deal with in a respectful, adult way they deserve...or you may want to reassess whether you have the time, attention span, motivation, and are at the right mental space in your life to be in a hobby that requires interaction with other people.

Giving people lazy “positivity” so that you feel you’ve done what you need to in order to be A Good RPer isn’t positive. It’s kind of insulting, actually. If, IRL, someone told you and the five people nearest to you identical compliments, would overhearing this make you feel good about yourself? Positive? Visible as a person? It wouldn’t, no. So, don’t do it here.

Legitimate positivity doesn’t mean constantly forcing yourself out of your comfort zone OOC, either. Your social anxiety and social deficits aren’t a sufficient excuse; you and every other person here has these complications. I have those complications!

If you find yourself still vehemently pissed at me for saying that, may want to rant back at me about how ableist this is, here’s some things I, a person with social limitations, high distraction, and serious anxiety do:

commenting on comment-appropriate posts something specific ( “the freckle on your cat’s foot is so cute!” “I love how you addressed x in that headcanon” etc.) when I am in a good space to do so

liking posts - OOC posts, meme answers and muse questionnaires that were great whether I’m tagged/sent in the ask or not, PSA’s and resources I think are good

reblogging PSA’s, resources, and other things I know are important to the mun to have shared that I agree with

sending in ask memes, sometimes even just on anon to mutuals I don’t write with - everyone wants to be sent something, this is a great way to allow others to respond to questions no one else might ask them

anonymous, positive comments on their muse, writing, blog that are, again, specific in detail

trying to note when a mutual, even one I don’t interact with really, is clearly needing a boost in confidence or interest, being sure to send a meme or something else in to them when I can

being aware of my partners and mutuals so that I can send them, when the opportunity is present with memes or requests for asks, questions on topics I think they’d like an excuse to discuss (someone keeps posting images or commentary in tags about a muse’s pet, clothing interests, hobbies, mental health, whatever, but no one is biting, for example)

The majority of the above can be done without direct, consistent OOC conversation, and much of it can be done on anon. Sometimes, it makes people feel extra good to feel like they have a secret admirer, a mysterious mutual or partner who is paying attention and valuing their posts. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. Especially because so many of us have trouble with random, long, or consistent OOC discussions; sending them on anon means that the receiver doesn’t feel obligated to contact and converse with you.

Positivity’s point isn’t that it be done out of obligation, guilt, or shame. Neither is it to be done out of performative, passive, often enough even vaguely virtue-signaling, or clique-like, circular gushing about each other for an hour repetitively. It isn’t to make you feel like A Good Person, or to show the RPC that you are a model RPer, you care so deeply about the RPC that you...can’t be bothered to expend the personalized effort and pay attention to those on your dash.

If you really care about positivity in the RPC, you need to stop doing it in hollow, meaningless ways.

You need to stop demanding, threatening, and shaming others into performative actions with you. It’s not enough to say you care and do something lethargic to show it, you need to actually be bothered to be specific. And if someone doesn’t feel positive, isn’t interested in playing the reblog or chain letter or tag game, leave them the hell alone. They’re not being “negative,” and don’t need to be assaulted with pseudo-positivity. And you know what? Maybe they are being “negative” because it makes them feel positive, and if that’s the case, remove yourself if it bothers you!

Everyone has a right to be themselves and to do what works for them here, that is part of an overall air of positivity in the RPC.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 8K+ (She’s a doozy!) Warnings: Language, angst, very basic medical procedures *Disclaimer: Hey again guys, so sorry about the delay with this chapter. But I’ll admit, I actually got this posted a lot sooner than I thought I would! So kudos to me I guess? I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who have been with this story since the beginning, and those who have joined us along the way. This isn’t the end of this story, but I just want to let you all know how much you all mean to me.  And please remember, if you read this story and you like it, give it a like, a comment and maybe even a reblog if you think your followers may like it? I know there isn’t much happening in the 6 Underground fandom these days, but the only way to keep it alive, is if people keep reading and writing for the characters!

All my love my dudes ❤❤❤

Probably best if you check out the other chapters first..... One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Chapter Eleven: Don’t let me fall, at least not alone

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****  

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

“I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead.  “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?”  One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”  

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital.  A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****  

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick.  Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

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My Masterlist for all my other nonsense! 

[c-is-for-circinate]

I'd love to hear more of your thoughts about why P5R didn't quite land for you. I had the same reaction to it, but I've never quite been able to properly articulate why the last section fell so flat.

God okay so I've tried several times to answer this, and it seems like the answer is 'I still have way too many feelings, personally, to say this in anything less than thirty pages and fifteen hours of work', because Persona 5 the original is a game I loved a lot and care about a great deal. And most of the reasons I disliked Royal feel, in my head, like a list of ways it broke some of the things I liked best about P5--which means explaining them feels like I need to explain everything I loved about the original game, which is a book in itself, complete with referents to P3, P4, Jungian psychology, the Joseph Campbell mytharc, and fuck all even knows what. And that is too much.

But today I realized that I could instead describe it from an angle of, Persona 5 Strikers succeeds really well at doing the thing I think Royal was trying to do but failed at. And that I think I can talk about in a reasonable amount of wordspace, hopefully, behind this cut because I have at least one friend who hasn't played Royal yet.

Note for reblogs/comments: I HAVE NOT FINISHED STRIKERS YET. I got through the jail that pretended to be the final jail and have not yet gone into the obviously inevitable 'ohshit wait, you mean there's something more than simple human machinations behind all of this?' dungeon. (I got stuck on a really frustrating side quest, put the game down, and then dived into Hades to avoid throwing the Switch across the room for a while--and anyone around this blog lately knows how THAT'S been going.) Please no spoilers past Okinawa!

So, one of the many, many things I really appreciated about Persona 5 was its straightforward and unashamed attitude towards abusers and their acts of violence. Because, while yes P5 is a story about the use of power and control to make others suffer, it fundamentally isn't about those abusers themselves. It's about their victims, those that survive their crimes. And this shows up repeatedly over the course of the game.

We do not give a shit why Kamoshida wanted to beat and rape his students. We really don't. Kamoshida does not deserve our attention one moment longer than it takes to make him stop. Because, ultimately, that's the goal of P5, start to end. We don't know for sure if what we're doing is fair, if it's justice, if it's questionable. What we know is that people are being hurt, badly, actively, right now this second. What we know is that victims are suffering. What we know is that we, personally, us-the-protag and us the Phantom Thieves at large, are in danger. And in those circumstances, we don't care about the abuser's side any more. We don't. We don't have the space or time or capacity to care, because that is not the point.

The point is to help the weak. To save the people who need saving, right here and now. To give others the courage to stand up on their own behalf. We're not even out to change society, not really--that's a byproduct. We are reactions. We are triage. We are important.

There's something so empowering and validating about that as a theme, y'know? In a media landscape so full of "sympathetic villains", the idea that, you know, maybe sometimes you don't have to break yourself to show compassion that might possibly heal the bad guy--that sometimes you can just make the bad guy stop hurting people--feels both refreshing and satisfying. I really appreciate it as a message! I liked it a lot!

And yes, there's nuance to that theme, and the game is not without compassion. We save Futaba, because 'make the bad guy stop hurting people', in that case, means 'make this person stop hurting herself'. We give Sae a path forwards, help her fix her own heart. Yet it's worth pointing out that in both of those cases, while we were very glad to do those things, to save those people, we also went into both of those palaces for extremely practical reasons to begin with. We needed Futaba's help. We needed Sae's help. The fact that we chose to talk Sae into a change of heart rather than simply stealing her treasure, while ultimately a very good thing for her, was absolutely a practical choice predicated on the need for her palace to still exist to save our life. And yes, we wanted to save her, for Makoto's sake--yes, we wanted desperately to save Futaba. But Sae and Futaba let themselves be helped, too, and that doesn't change the overarching themes of the story itself.

Akechi (and to some extent Okumura) would not let himself be helped. Akechi's another interesting nuance to this theme, because of all our villains, we do learn the most about what drove him to the cruelties and crimes he's committed. He's at that intersection of victim and villain, and we want to help him, as a victim--but we also know that stopping him as a villain is more important. We'd like to save him from himself if we could, because we save people from their sources of trauma, it's what we do. We regret being unable to do so. But in the end, what matters to the story is not that Akechi refused to be saved--it's that Shido and Yaldabaoth need to be stopped, for the sakes of everyone else they're hurting now and may continue to hurt in the future.

The thing is, there's space and maybe even a need for a corollary discussion of those places where victim and villain intersect. It's an interesting, pertinent, and related topic. Strikers made an entire video game about it, a really good video game. It's centered in the idea that, yes, these people need to be stopped, and we will make stopping them our priority--but they're not going after us, and that gives us some space to sympathize. Even for Konoe, who specifically targets the Phantom Thieves--compare him to Shido, who actively destroyed the lives of both Joker and Futaba, who ordered Haru's father's death, who's the entire reason the team is still dealing with the trauma of Akechi's everything. Of course the game can be sympathetic to Konoe where it can't with Shido. There's enough distance to do that.

But right--Strikers is a separate game. It's a separate conversation. It's, "last time, we talked about that, so now let's take it one step further." And that's good writing. (It's something Persona has done before, too, also really well! Persona 3 is about terrible, occasionally-suicidal depression and grief. P4 is about how you can still be hurting and need some help and therapy even if things seem ok. Related ideas, but separate conversations that need to be separate in order to be respectful and do justice to either one. P5, as a follow-up to P4, is a conversation about how, ok, changing yourself is great and all, but sometimes the problem is other people so how do you deal with that? Again, still related! Still pertinent! Still alluded to in P4, with Adachi's whole thing--but it wasn't the time or place to base a quarter of the game around it.)

So one of Royal's biggest issues, to me, is that it tries to tack on this whole new angle for discussion onto a game that was originally about something else.

Adding Maruki's palace--adding it at the end, which by narrative laws suggests that it's the true point that everything else should be building up to--suddenly adds in about a hundred new dimensions at once. It wants us to engage with "what in this abuser/manipulator's life led him to act this way?" for basically the first time all game (we'll get to Akechi later). It wants us to engage with, "if the manipulator has a really good reason or good intentions, does that mean we should forgive them?" It requires us to reflect on, "what is the difference between control and cruelty?" It asks, "okay, but if people could be controlled into being happy, would that be okay?" (Which, based on the game so far, is actually a wild out-there hypothetical! Literally not a single thing we've seen in the game suggests that could ever happen. Even the people who think being controlled is safer and easier are miserable under it. Control that's able to lead to actual happiness is completely out of left field in the context of everything we've encountered all game so far.)

That's too much! We don't have time to unpack all that! We only have an eighth of the game left! Not to mention we are also being asked to bring back questions we put to bed much earlier in the game about the morality of our own actions, in a wholely unsatisfying way. Maruki attempts to justify his mass brainwashing because "it's the same as what you're doing", and we know it isn't, but the game didn't need Maruki calling it out in order for us to get that. We already faced that question when we started changing hearts, and again several times throughout the game, and again when we found our targets in Yaldabaoth's cells. The fact that we change hearts does not mean we think "changing hearts is fine and kind and should be done to everyone, actually." Changing hearts has been firmly established in this game as an act of violence, acceptable only because it prevents further systemic violence against innocents that we must prevent. The moral question has never once been about whether it's ok to change the hearts of the innocent, only about how far it's ethical to go against individuals who are actively hurting other people. Saying "you punched that guy to keep him from shooting a child, so punching people is good and I will save the world by punching everyone!" is confusing! and weird! and not actually at all helpful to the question of, how much violence is it acceptable to use to protect others! So presenting the question that way just falls really flat.

(And right, I love Strikers, because Strikers has time to unpack all that. Strikers can give us a main bad guy who wants to control the whole world for everybody's own good, because Strikers has earned that thematic climax. It has given us sympathetic bad guys who started out wanting to control the world to protect themselves and ended up going too far. It's given us Mariko Hyodo, who wanted to control the world to protect other people and went too far. It's given us a long-running thread about police, the desire to serve, and the abuse of power that can lead to. And since we are actively trying to care for the people whose hearts we're changing in Strikers, we can open the door to questions about using changes-of-heart and that level of control to make other people happy. We can even get a satisfying conclusion out of that discussion, because we have space to characterize the difference--Konoe thinks that changing peoples' hearts means confining them, but the Phantom Thieves think it means setting them free. We have seen enough sympathetic villains that we as an audience have had the space to figure out how we feel about that, and to understand the game's perspective of "stop them AND save them, if we can possibly do both." And that message STILL rests firmly on Persona 5's message of "it is Good to do what you have to do to stop an abuser so long as you don't catch innocent people in your crossfire.")

It's worth noting that the general problem of 'asking way too many new questions and then not answering them' also applies to how Royal treats its characters, too. P5 did have unanswered questions left at the end! The biggest one, and we all knew this, was Akechi, and what actually happened to him, and how we should feel about him, and how he felt about us. That was ripe for exploring in our bonus semester, and to Royal's credit they did in fact try to bring it up, but by god did they fuck up doing it.

Akechi's probable death in the boiler room was absolutely the biggest dangling mystery of the game. It was an off-screen apparent death of a key antagonist, so all of the narrative rules we know suggested that he might still be alive and would probably come back if the story went on for long enough. So when Royal brings him back on Christmas Eve, hey, great! Question answered. Except that the situation is immediately too good to be true, and immediately leads to another mystery, which leads to a flat suspicion that something must be wrong. We spend several hours of gameplay getting sly hints that, oooh, maybe he's not really alive after all, before it's finally confirmed by Maruki: yup, he really died, if we end the illusion we'll kill him too. Okay, at least we know now. Akechi is alive right now and he's going to be dead if we do this, and that doesn't make a ton of sense because every other undead person disappeared when the person who wished for them realized they were fake but at this point we'll take it. So we take down Maruki, and okay, Akechi really is dead! Probably! We're fairly sure! Aside from our lingering doubts!

And then we catch a glimpse of maybe-probably-could be him through the train window, and I just want to throw something, because come on.

Look, it is just a fact of storytelling: the more times you make an audience ask 'wait, is this character dead or aren't they?', the less they will care, until three or four reversals later you will be hard pressed to find anybody who gives a shit. Royal does this like four different times, and every iteration comes with even less certainty than the last. By the end, we somehow know even less than we did when we started! Did Akechi survive the boiler room to begin with and Maruki just didn't know? Or was Maruki lying to try and manipulate us further? Or was he actually dead and then his strength of will when Maruki's reality dissolved was enough to let him survive after all? Is that even actually him out the train window?

Where is he going! What is he doing! How did any of this happen! What is going on! We all had these questions about Akechi at the end of the original P5, and the kicker is that Royal pretends like it's going to answer them only to go LOL JK NO. It's frustrating and it's dissatisfying and it annoys me.

The one Akechi question that Royal doesn't even bother to ask, though, let alone leave ambiguous, is how does the protagonist feel about him? The entire emotional weight of the third semester rests on the protagonist caring about Akechi, Sumire, and Maruki. Maruki's the person we're supposed to sympathize with even as we try to stop him. Sumire's the person we're trying to save from herself. And Akechi is our bait--is, we are told, the one thing our protagonist wished for enough to actualize it in this world himself. Akechi's the final lure to accept Maruki's deal. Akechi's survival is meant to be tempting.

For firm Akechi fans, this probably worked out fine--the game wanted to insist that the protagonist cared for Akechi the same way the player did. For those of us who're a little more ambivalent, though (or for the many and valid people who hated him), this is a super sour note. Look, one of the Persona series' strengths is the way it lets players choose to put their time and emotional investment into an array of different characters, so the main story still has weight even if there's a couple you don't care about that much. It has always done this. The one exception, from P3 all the way through P4 to here and now, is Nanako Dojima, and by god she earned that distinction. I have never met a person who played Persona 4 who didn't love Nanako. Nanako is a neglected six-year-old child who is brave and strong enough to take care of herself and all of the housework but who still tries not to cry when her dad abandons her again and lights up like the sun when we spare her even the tiniest bit of time and attention. It is impossible not to care for Nanako. Goro Akechi is not Nanako.

And yet third semester Royal doesn't make sense if your protagonist doesn't feel linked to Akechi. The one question, out of all the brand new questions Royal throws out there, that it decides to answer all by itself--and it's how you as a player and your protagonist ought to feel about an extremely complex and controversial character. What the fuck, Royal. What the fuck.

In conclusion, I'll leave you with this. I played the original Persona 5 in March and April of 2017, as an American, a few months after the 2016 election and into the term of our then president. It felt painfully timely. A quick calendar google early on indicated that the game's 20XX was almost certainly 2016, and the closer our plot got to the in-game November leadup to an election destined to be dominated by a foul and charming man full of corruption and buoyed up by his own cult of personality, the more I wanted to laugh/cry. It felt timely. It felt important. It felt right.

I went through Royal (in LP form on youtube, not having a platform to play it on) in summer of 2020, with a hook full of face masks by my front door and protests about racial tension and local policing that occasionally turned into not-quite-riots close enough to hear at night if I opened the windows of my apartment. The parts of the game that I remembered felt as prescient and meaningful as ever, if not even more so. The new parts felt baffling. Every single evil in the game felt utterly, painfully real, from the opening moments of police brutality to the idea of a country led by a guy who probably would use his secret illegitimate teenage son as a magical assassin if the opportunity presented itself and he thought he could get away with it. Yaldabaoth as the cumulative despair of an entire population who just wanted somebody to take over and make things be okay--yes, yes, god, in summer of 2020? With streets full of people refusing to wear masks and streets full of people desperate for change? Of course. Of course that holy grail of safety should be enticing. Of course it should be terrifying.

And then Maruki. Maruki, who was just so far outside the scope of anything I could relate to the rest of the game or my own life. Because every single other villain in the rest of Persona is real. From the petty pandering principal to the human-trafficking mob boss. The corrupt politicians and the manmade god of cultural desire for stability. And this game was trying to tell me that the very biggest threat of all of them, the thing that was worse than the collective force of all society agreeing to let this happen because succumbing was easier than fighting back--that the very biggest threat of all was that the world could be taken over by some random nobody's misguided attempts to help?

No. Fuck no. I don't buy it. Because god, yes, I have seen the pain and damage done on a tiny and personal and very real level by the tight-fisted control of someone trying to help, it never looked like this. Not some ascended god of a bad therapist. All the threats to the world, and that's the one I'm supposed to take seriously? This one man is more of a threat than the fundamental human willingness to be controlled?

Sorry, but no. Not for me. Not in this game. Not in this real-life cyberpunk dystopian apocalypse.