#and she was SO APPALLED that little kids are out there playing a game about. evil murder animatronics that jump out and scare you

[tealfruit]

the other day I was talking to an older coworker of mine who has several grandkids and said "you've probably heard of five nights at Freddy's, right? since you have young grandkids." and she's like "no what's that?" so I told her about it and she was like "OH ABSOLUTELY NOT. id never let young kids play that kind of stuff, that's too scary and violent!"

she gave me a ride home and guess what she had in her backseat that her grandson had left in there. this thing

[rqgnarok]

standing ovation - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 2321

warnings: mentions of jamie’s dad and DV, spoilers for ted lasso’s mom city. reader uses female pronouns. 

summary: reader sneaks into training grounds after richmond’s win against man city. seeing her is just what jamie needs. 

author’s note at the end!

There’s something in the air.

Jamie’s pretty sure Will sprayed some lavender shit all over the locker room again but that’s not quite what he means– he’s said goodbye to every single one of his teammates and all the coaches– and the locker room is now his and his alone. He locks away his dad’s ghost by locking up his phone, the simple message doing wonders to finish lifting that weight off his shoulders.

He wasn’t at the game. Or maybe he was, Jamie realizes now that it doesn’t really matter. A part of him will never stop looking over his shoulder whenever he visits his hometown for his dickwad of a father, but the older, bigger part of him knows Coach was right– his motivation doesn’t come from hating his dad anymore and it doesn’t have to. His forgiveness is for himself, for the little boy that had to build a mask to save himself from his dad, and for the man he is today because of him– and because of his mum, Keeley, Roy, Ted, his teammates–

The standing ovation at the end was more of a benediction than he’d like to admit. Everything about his hometown made him feel prickly; like he was a virus the town was doing its best to reject, and other than his quick visit to his mom Jamie expected the whole thing to be a disaster. The kids on the street, the people on social media, the rude assholes in the bleachers– Jamie thought that was all he was gonna get. Blind, thoughtless hatred despite Jamie trying his best.

He remembers Roy getting a standing ovation on his last game, while Jamie was still wearing Man City blue. He’d been appalled, unable to discern the possibility of someone hating you so much they respected you. All he’d ever gotten– from his dad, rival teams, his own team– had been everything except respect.

But they’d clapped for him. They thought him deserving of something precious and somehow it feels like permission. He can play for himself. He can come home without his dad’s ghost belittling him for not turning out the way he expected him to. 

Even Manchester hasn’t been home in a long time. Sure, his mom and Simon are there, but Richmond has his family, too– his friends, his teammates, his–

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my boyfriend. 5’9 not quite 6 foot, sexy as hell, the most fantastic football player to ever walk on Earth?”

Jamie’s lips involuntarily twist up as he glances at the door. (Y/N)’s a sight wearing her Richmond TARTT jersey, looking disheveled and flushed like the rest of the city probably is right now after their win tonight. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the city, though. At least not right now. He cares about his girl sneaking in (with Keeley and Roy’s permission and advice, probably) to see him, normal sleep schedule be damned. 

He laughs, loud and unrestrained joy lighting up his features as he hobbles towards his girlfriend, letting himself be enveloped in a crush-tight embrace.

“Did ya watch it?” he wonders, forgoing his usual shy demeanor whenever (Y/N) praises him and just allowing his excitement to overflow, arms going around (Y/N)’s waist and hoisting her off the ground.

“Did I watch it, he asks,” (Y/N) scoff is downplayed by her big grin and the way she wraps her arms around Jamie’s neck as he spins her around, fucked up ankle be damned. “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of you, Jamie, oh, my God–”

She’s kissing him deeply, unable to contain her excitement. 

“You’re so fucking brilliant,” she whispers against his mouth, her hands at the nape of his neck making him shiver into her embrace, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, that assist– the entire play for Colin’s goal? Your goal–”

“It was for you,” he tells as he drops her off, cupping her face in his hands and cheeks hurting with how wide he’s smiling. “I couldn’t celebrate but it was for you. For you and me mum, you were with me on the pitch the whole time–”

He stumbles a little as he drops her on the ground and (Y/N) tenses in his arms. She looks him over, suddenly worried. “Oh, shit. Your ankle, dumbass, are you okay? Fuck, did I–”

“Angel,” the nickname has her melting almost immediately just like he thought it would, a five-word weapon he’s never gotten tired of wielding. (Y/N) pouts at him, still concerned, and Jamie can’t have that, he kisses the expression off her face immediately. It should be illegal for her to be sad, no, sir. “‘s not even a sprain. It was probably the panic of bein’ in the same place as me dad, to be honest.”

Something steely flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a second, at the mention of Jamie’s dad. (Y/N)’s never been anything other than kind about it, but Jamie doesn’t doubt she’d beat the old fart up if she were given the chance. 

The thought only makes him smile.

“Did you? See him?” she wonders cautiously. She’s touching him again after her moment of hesitation over his injury, hands doing soothing motions up and down his sides. Jamie fights off a shiver.

“Nah,” he says simply as if the thought of crossing paths with him didn’t have him toeing the line of a panic attack the entire three days they were in Manchester. “I don’t know if he was there, and if he was, I didn’t see him. I don’t think I care anymore. It’s for the best, really.”

(Y/N)’s expression brightens, though they both know they’re not done talking about it. Jamie wishes it could be as easy as turning off his phone and forgetting about his dad, but his skin already itches a little with the idea of getting a text back from him. He’s also no doubt that (Y/N) will hold him throughout it all. 

“I did see me mum.”

“How is my favorite Tartt?” she teases.

“Happy,” Jamie says softly, always the most important thing to consider when it comes to his mother. Ever since he was a toddler and he gained acknowledgment of his dad’s actions; after an especially gruesome argument that ended with his dad breaking a few photo frames and plates, stumbling his way out of the apartment, and slamming the door shut, Jamie would climb on his mom’s lap and wipe her tears as best he could with his tiny clumsy baby fingers. “Yeah, she was real happy. And for me, too. Even before the match, she was happy to see me, happy to… jus’ happy.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she threads her fingers through Jamie’s hair to keep it off his face, his headband lost somewhere in his lockers or amongst the rest of the dirty laundry. He’ll have to tell Will to watch out for it, he’s a little attached to it after the night he’s had. 

Jamie’s usually not the one to believe in lucky garments or charms but– well. He feels pretty lucky right now; that (Y/N) saw some worth in him when they met and makes the choice to love him and come home to him, day after day, whatever the outcome may be. 

(Y/N) looks at him adoringly like she knows what he’s thinking. “Did’ya get your wings back, then?”

Jamie grasps her hand in his and turns to kiss the inside of her wrist, only slipping a little bit of tongue. “Nah. They was never gone. All I needed was a little help to see.”

He frowns before (Y/N) can answer. “I was gonna say something stupid like ‘you’re me wings’ but that’s disgusting and I hate it. I would never say something like that. ‘m not Roy.”

(Y/N)’s laugh is surprised and comes deep from her belly. “Are you telling me Roy Kent’s a secret romantic?”

“Big old softie, that tosser,” he rolls his eyes. “He snuck you in for me, didn’t he? That’s all you need to know about–”

(Y/N) shuts him up with a kiss just because she can, and they’re both smiling too hard for it to be a proper one. 

She says “He likes you. He’s proud of you. We’re all so proud of you,” while peppering kisses all over his face, landing on his cheeks, nose, temple, jaw, and corner of his mouth. “You’re so, so good, Jamie, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he says, because there’s not gonna be a single time in which she tells him that and he doesn’t reciprocate. “Mum said that, too. And Keeley and Roy. And Coach, too, I guess, in his own way. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” (Y/N) pouts and beats herself up over it for the thousandth time. Jamie presses a kiss to the space between her eyes for the thousandth time in response. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve told my boss to go to hell–” 

“You’re here,” he tells her, shaking her a little by the shoulders and looking her over like he can’t quite believe it. That she’s here in the locker room, in his life, loving him like he’s always desperately wished for but never thought he’d deserve. “What was I gonna do, put my dumb ankle into ice and sit alone in the dark?”

“‘m sure Roy and Keeley would be here drinking champagne with you if I wasn’t here.”

“And what could we be doing that is keeping them away right now?” he raises his brows, sneaking a hand down her back lower, lower, lower–

(Y/N) slaps his chest, though a gleam in her eye tells him she’s not saying no to anything. “You’re…” she drifts off.

He smirks cockily. “Unbelievable?”

(Y/N) shakes her head imperceptively. “Nah. I always knew you could do it. But you’re breathtaking, I’ll give you that. As if your ego needs it.”

Jamie’s mouth softens into a smile, soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) frowns a little at the sudden shift in conversation. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve been a dick these past couple of weeks–”

He had. (Y/N) won’t let him admit it but he wasn’t lying when he told Roy he wasn’t doing well. Not eating, not sleeping, waving off (Y/N)’s concern with a little too cold shoulder. It made him feel a little too much like his dad, and that thought only dragged him further down.

It had been (Y/N) who suggested Jamie pay a visit to his mom while in town for the game, and when he’d mentioned this to her she’d smiled knowingly, ran a hand through his hair, and made him promise an introduction soon. 

“You were anxious,” she corrects him with a shake of the head, won’t let him speak ill of himself when all he did was have a normal, human reaction to a very triggering situation. “And I’ve been worried about you but you don’t have to apologize, Jamie. Not to me, not in a million years.”

“Alright,” he says, soft and charmed. He soothes his thumb over her knuckles, featherlight. He looks down at their intertwined hands for a beat or two, gently swinging them back and forth. “Then can I apologize for shutting you out? I know you were only trying to help. I’ll do better next time at letting you know what I need.”

“And I’ll do better at listening,” she assures him with an indulgent smile, using her free hand to trace the Richmond crest of his shirt. “Look at us, communicating and shit.”

Jamie scrunches his nose in faux disgust. “Gross,” he says, but even the facade is too much to keep up when (Y/N) nudges his nose with hers. His lips tilt upwards against his best intentions, drunk on her presence and something inside his chest brimming with unstirred delight. 

(Y/N) exhales against his mouth. She hasn’t been more than a few inches away from him since she came down to meet him, always touching him.  

“What do you wanna do, huh?” she asks him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Anything you want. We can go get some takeout from that burger place you like or maybe something fancier? We can go home and get some ice on that ankle–”

“It’s nothin’–”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” by that, she means when the team doctor gives him the all clear and he isn’t limping slightly with every step he takes. It’ll take a while but Jamie can take it, especially if any downtime comes with them spending the days together. She makes a questioning hum. “But we can do that tomorrow, then. Tonight, whatever you want. You’ve earned it.”

And Jamie does feel like a winner. Not only because of the three points they managed to steal from Man City but because he gets to come home to this. He gets to leave his dad behind in Manchester and his mom in safe hands, he gets to accomplish his dream for himself and the people that love him instead of trying to prove someone who hurt him wrong. 

He gets to live for himself. Coach Lasso was right, him forgiving his father was the kindest thing he could do for himself. 

“I want this,” he murmurs against her temple, breathing in the smell of her perfume and taking in the warmth of her body against his. “I got all I need right here.”

(Y/N) smiles and crowds even closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

A beat. Then–

“So that’s a no for a quickie in the locker room, then?”

(Y/N)’s laugh tastes like a standing ovation.

_________

precious little jamiebaby i hope i did you justice ily

i was ready to make an angsty peace about him but mom city left me craving to give him a moment of peace so ta-da! thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you think!

a reminder that commissions and asks are open!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

[kieran-granola]

Material Boy

(This one is available on AO3)

When he’s not busy being a vigilante, Tim likes to think that he’s a pretty simple guy. He has normal, civilian friends. He's awkward when he talks to people he wants to bang. He likes skateboarding and playing Warlocks & Warriors. He dropped out of high school.

He also, like many kids of his generation, grew up collecting superhero merchandise and memorabilia.

And yes, maybe he never got out of the habit of collecting super-trinkets even after joining the vigilante game — a fact he keeps between himself and God, he can only imagine how much shit Steph and the others would give him if they knew — but it's not like he steals stuff from the heroes he knows. He just... buys things. A lot of things.

Which brings him to his current problem: the amount of merchandise created depends a lot on a hero's popularity. This means that Superman has insane amounts of merch. Wonder Woman and Batman too, to a lesser extent. In Gotham, Robin does pretty well for kids' stuff, and Nightwing has inspired more than one, uh, adult line of toys.

…But Red Hood? As tacky as brands can get with their products, they know better than to create merch of mass murdering rogues and villains, and unfortunately people aren't sure whether Red Hood qualifies a good guy. This means that Tim's haul is Very Poor when it comes to Hood. Which is an issue on account of Tim's massive crush on Jason.

How is a man supposed to pine in dignity when he can't even find a decent body pillow to warm his lonely bed? How?!

Tim obviously has to fix this problem. He has to rehabilitate Red Hood and ensure a steady supply of bling for his display cases. And shelves. And furniture. And possibly wardrobe, he's not picky.

He has to.

Which is why he ends up raving about Red Hood, his crime-fighting exploits, and his charity work on social media. He uses all of his covers' accounts and even creates a few more, enthusing people and posting praise until, finally, his amateur PR campaign snowballs.

He knows his job is done when his hashtags start trending outside of the Gotham metro area, and the first Red Hood plushie comes out of Build-A-Bear.

___________________________

Jason is bemused when he first gets wind of his rising popularity. Sure, it's nice to be appreciated and the genuine testimonials from Gothamites warm the cockles of his dead, dead heart, but where did the hype come from? And why are people trying to ask him for autographs? He's a crime lord! He's dangerous and scary, and people should definitely not feel comfortable enough to ask him for selfies!

…Oh fuck, is that it? Is someone trying to sabotage his reputation?

Disturbed, Jason reaches out to Oracle for some help with finding the person behind this heinous plan. He's not entirely sure why Babs laughs for five minutes straight after hearing his question, but she eventually tells him that the original accounts extolling his virtues belong to Red Robin's covers.

Shrugging to himself, he suits up and heads to Tim's nest. He busts in, ready to deliver the wrath of the Hood on Tim for making him look like a hero when he's a Very Mean, Very Dangerous Badass… only to find Tim eating Froot Loops out of some violently lime liquid, while wearing what looks like chibi Red Hood pajamas, complete with little cat ears over the stylized helmet.

Suffice to say, that display takes the wind out of Jason's sails. He holsters his weapons back and takes off his helmet so Tim can properly appreciate how appalled he is before speaking.

"Okay, what the fuck, Timbo?"

Tim blinks. "You wanna be a bit more specific there?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start. Just. What the fuck."

"Well, I'm having dinner?" Tim tries, shoving a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

"Froot Loops in, what is that, cucumber juice? That's dinner?" Jason stares harder.

Tim swallows his spoonful thickly. "It's Mountain Dew, actually."

"Okay but that's worse. You get how that's worse, right?"

"Did you seriously come here to talk about my meal plans?"

"I came here to ask why you decided to ruin my street cred, and to kick your ass—" Jason winces as Tim eats another mouthful, "—but apparently you're doing a great job at hurting yourself on your own."

Tim gives him a blank look. "I ruined your street cred? How?"

"You told people I'm a hero," Jason says accusingly.

"Ah, I see what the problem is. Look, Jason, this might come as a shock to you and I understand if you need to take a minute to process this very new piece of information but… you are a hero, dumbass."

Jason seriously considers throwing his helmet at Tim but, with the state Tim is in, he's pretty sure it would feel like pouring water on a drowning man.

"I'm not the kind of hero they make jammies of! I mean, what the fuck are you even wearing?"

Tim pulls on his shirt to show off the design, perking up. "These? They're Red Catting Hood limited edition PJs. They're cute, right?"

You're cute, Jason mutters under his breath, before taking a few menacing steps forward. "They're ridiculous. I'm not a cat. And I'm definitely not cute."

"We're going to have to agree to disagree there."

Jason stares at him. "You think I'm cute?"

"No, I think you're a cat," Tim deadpans, still eating his disgusting mixture.

"I… I tried to kill you, remember?!"

"Yeah, you did. And now I have little cartoon kitties of you on my jim-jams. Life's full of curveballs, isn't it?"

Jason is pretty sure he's having a minor breakdown in Tim's kitchen. He opens and closes his mouth silently several times, confusion robbing him of his words. Tim watches him for a couple of minutes, then he stands up and shuffles closer to pat him on the back.

Jason lets out a very unmanly squeak of horror when he spots matching Red Catting Hood slippers on Tim's feet.

Tim shushes him. "Hey, it's okay, dude. I understand that you don't know how to deal with people expressing positive emotions in your direction after getting the Bruce special growing up, but it's gonna be fine. Just breathe. You'll get used to it."

Jason stares at Tim with wide eyes. Then he gently takes him by the shoulders.

"Timmers. Tim. You crazy little birdie. Telling me I'm cute, talking about emotions... Are you okay? Is this a cry for help? Talk to me."

"You ask me that now?" Tim gives him a judgmental look. "I can't believe that's where you draw the line. I mean, where's your 'Be my Robin' enthusiasm?"

"It drowned in your bowl of Mountain Dew next to the Froot Loops. No, but seriously. If I'm your last resort, then you can tell me what's wrong. No need for tacky PJs, I'll listen."

Tim's eyes narrow. "Okay, then listen to this. First of all, my PJs aren't tacky. Second, I like you, dumbass, and yeah, I think you're cute. And third, I hyped you up on social media because I wanted Red Hood merch for my collection."

Jason takes a second to let that confession wash over him. He regrets removing his helmet. He's blushing, he knows he's blushing. In fact he must have been a redhead in another life, because he must be reminiscent of a tomato at this point, and oh no. He's a grown-ass man, why is he blushing like a nerd for this incredibly sleep-deprived, adorable maniac?

"You have a collection?" he squeaks.

"Uh, yeah. I started it when I was 4." Tim raises his eyebrows. "But nevermind that, are you seriously going to leave me hanging? I just told you I like you, man."

"I don't know what to say," Jason chokes out. "This... You're—I'm not good for you."

"Sorry but the entire internet would disagree. You're a hero, remember? And I can take care of myself, thank you very much. I don't need to be patronized."

Jason gestures at Tim's dinner. "That is demonstrably false."

Tim pouts. "Well. If you were my boyfriend, you could make sure I eat properly."

"Is that what you want? To be my b—" Jason's voice breaks. He swallows before trying again. "To be my boyfriend?"

"I mean, yeah?" Tim shrugs. "That's not why I hyped you up, I'm not kidding about the merch thing. But. Yeah. That would be… Good. Nice."

"Oh."

"Is that something you'd like too?"

Jason licks his lips. "Yeah, I—I think so. Yeah. There's just one thing though..."

Hope sparkles in Tim's eyes. "What?"

"It's just... I can't let people think you like me more than I like you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means—" Jason tugs on the fabric of Tim's PJs, "—that for every Red Hood item you own, you have to get me some matching Red Robin merch."

Tim grins a wide, bright, genuine smile that almost offsets the deep purple bruising under his tired eyes. "It's a deal."

___________________________

(They show up to the Manor together two months later to announce their relationship. They walk in hand-in-hand, Jason wearing a Red Robin hoodie, Tim in a Red Hood henley. Damian doesn't even have to pretend to gag at the sight.)

[partyinthemysterymachine]

well step right up step riiiiiight up bcuz BOYY do i got a deal for YOU!!!

but again, BE FOREWARNED: this an unedited, impromptu Eddie profile i did on a Silent Hill FB group back in early 2020. it's been [checks bare wrist] four years since then. this was just a basic skeleton of ideas on Eddie as a canon character in SH2, and written as a response to someone on said SH FB group trying to claim Eddie was a hero and an innocent, and was totally justified in his crimes.

this was 11pg in gdocs, so grab a cuppa-whatever and a snack, and enjoy!!:

right off his wiki page is stated:

[When he is approached by James Sunderland, he immediately starts claiming innocence of the death of the man in the refrigerator, telling James that he isn't even from Silent Hill.]

so first off, he has a guilty conscience right off the bat. James didn't accuse Eddie of having any part with the corpse and yet, Eddie outright denies it as though he WAS accused; it was his kneejerk reaction. when the scene plays out in the game, you can think nothing of it; he's scared, he's obviously sick, and maybe he was sick from seeing the corpse. so he's panicking, right? doesn't seem that sketchy.

Continuing:

[Eddie is later seen in Pete's Bowl-O-Rama, having a conversation with Laura while eating pizza. Despite the fact that Laura calls him a "gutless fatso", he remains relatively civil to her. When James's appearance causes Laura to flee, Eddie decides not to accompany James in his pursuit of her, explaining sulkily that she said "a fatso like [him] would just slow her down". James points out that there's monsters in the town, but Eddie feels Laura will be fine.]

yes, the pizza is definitely a nod to an eating disorder. binge eating, perhaps, and eating for comfort. here, this reads as comfort. though Laura is mean, he's calm and honestly very good with her, which eludes to a sensitive and caring side to him. as we go further along, Eddie directs his anger towards adults. with that you can pretty easily take that Eddie has no problems with kids, regarding them as innocent. even though Laura is mean, he brushes it off because maybe he figures she doesn't know any better, or simply that she's joking. the inflections in his voice are common of adults talking to kids; a bit more exaggerated, more emotion behind it, and with a question like that, the tonal pitch and fall is also one that's lightly scolding. 'why would you say something like that, don't be like that' has a distinct sound when used.

this is also where we see the first note of his self esteem issues. Eddie is parroting some of the verbal and emotional abuse he's been given in his life - especially the fresh one. Laura called him a "gutless fatso" and he immediately calls himself a "fatso" in a mocking tone. every instance of this abuse is internalized. that sucks, and it hurts. James seems appalled that Eddie would just let Laura run free, and considering that Eddie and Laura arrived together, he probably got a good understanding of her then. she's a very independent girl. he figures she can fend for herself.

on THAT note too, that they arrived together: Laura is seen kicking Eddie in the beginning sequence. again, he doesn't react in anger; it's like a little sister bullying a big brother. (and outright, yes, Laura is a bully.) from what we can glean off Eddie, it doesn't seem like he has any qualms towards women. Laura is a snotty, independent little girl and he respects her. also he doesn't value himself a very good guardian. again, he's been beaten down by people and life in general, so this is understandable that he doesn't think he'd be worthy of going along with her.

doesn't seem too bad, right? you can empathize? good. you're not meant to see every character as downright bad, zero relatable characterization, nothing good to say about them. (something i will get to towards the end. and this is gonna be a lot, so hang tight.) characters, like people, are not black and white. they're a whole painter's catalogue of grey. no one is entirely innocent nor guilty. and Eddie, while he's had a whole host of problems and downfalls and stuff he probably didn't deserve in his life, is not a martyr, and is NOT to be considered someone who also didn't deserve to be in Silent Hill.

going on:

[Somehow, Eddie inexplicably reappears deep underground in Toluca Prison's cafeteria, slumped against the door and muttering to himself about how killing a human is "no big deal" and "you just put a gun to their head... POW!" There is yet another corpse lying on one of the cafeteria tables, but this time, Eddie attempts to justify his actions to James, claiming that the man "had it coming" and that he "was making fun of me with his eyes". When James refuses to accept Eddie's reasoning, Eddie nervously laughs and jokes that the corpse was already there when he arrived. He then leaves James to explore the prison by himself. A grave with his name on it, next to James's and Angela Orosco's, can be found in a graveyard later on.]

what we discover about Eddie is that he has a lot of anger management problems. he also shows signs of psychosis, which a SYMPTOM of mental illness (and NOT directly schizophrenia; psychosis goes along with many variations of mental illness) and psychosis "include(s) delusions, hallucinations, talking incoherently, and agitation. The person with the condition usually isn't aware of his or her behavior."

we begin to see this here. he goes from confident yet empty, intent to harm, murderous tendencies ("he had it coming" points to this) - then directly to sniveling, trying to justify himself, trying to make HIM look like the victim. "he was making fun of me with his eyes!" and when James rebuffs that, he tries to laugh it off. he clearly meant it. "you can't just kill somebody just because of the way they looked at you!"

"well, why not?"

yeah. why are you asking that, Eddie? he has a lot of anger inside him due to the abuse, and he's also beginning to project and delude himself into believing he had full right to murder someone for supposedly eyeballing him out of malice. there's no evidence. we don't know how long that body's been dead. for all we know, Eddie acquired a gun and shot a dead body because Eddie believed that a corpse made fun of him. he's sitting there on the floor talking senselessly about it to himself. he's got a wild look in his eyes - the kind of wild that's present in excitement. whether he actually killed someone or shot a corpse, he felt GOOD about it. that was a release. that wasn't any big deal! look how easy that was! that felt good!!

Eddie expected to feel bad about killing someone. a lot of people become VERY disturbed after having killed someone. this is one of the worst immoral acts, something that will stay with a person forever. one will always remember their first human kill. it's haunting. you're not supposed to revel in it, and if someone does, that's a huge, enormous, galaxy-sized red flag.

Eddie is reveling in it. it's no big deal. that was easy. he can do it again. actually? he'd like to do it again.

Eddie refuses to take responsibility for his actions. it wasn't his fault, he (the corpse) MADE him do it! you hear that a lot with children, immaturity, and people who don't want to take responsibility/face consequences of their actions, right? we start to see how immature Eddie is. he also displays sharp mood swings here. "I'm a god" to "no no no it's not me, it's them! please believe me!" there is no justification for whatever he did, and the fact that he feels the need to defend himself over it is a sign of manipulation, guilt (yes, guilt; and guilt can be a good thing. maybe he feels guilty that he did it, all of a sudden. OR - maybe he feels guilty that he was caught, or guilty that he was reprimanded. guilt does not automatically mean that he has a conscience and truly feels bad about it. someone feeling guilty for being caught is a red flag for being detached from empathy, for the only person he feels sorry for is himself), and blaming.

everyone is wrong except for Eddie.

Eddie leaves, suddenly confident again. he rather flippantly says, "Anyway, I gotta run!" and when James expresses concern about him going alone, he hauntingly says, "Yeah."

so there's another mood swing. he's gone through two or three mood swings in perhaps less than two minutes. depraved to pitiful to depraved again. i use depraved because of his arrogance. these acts were done with malicious, murderous intent. he made the decision. mental illness absolutely plays a factor here in "convincing" him to do it. that's not to say there are voices in his head telling him to do it, no. but with mental illness, a person is very susceptible to delusions and falling hard into them; they can't see any other side of a problem, this is the only thing to do, the blinders are put on and vision tunneled. mental illness is grave. mental illness also doesn't excuse him from his crimes.

after learning about Eddie later, coming back to this scene is even more interesting. Eddie's been bullied, right. in here, he's making his stand. he's defending himself. he's the hero now! everyone's getting their just deserts; how's that feel? obviously this is more outwardly shown at his boss fight, where the thread snaps for good, but here, it serves as foreshadowing.

he got cocky after killing someone for making fun of him. man. that feels really good, especially since he's daydreamed about it, probably had all these speculative plans about HOW he'd deal with someone/the next person to disrespect him like that. y'know, arguments we all have in the shower with that cashier five years ago. except Eddie's is actually violent, and he absorbs it like a sponge. he LOVES visualizing himself as the hero here, beating people to a pulp, putting a gun to their head and making them beg for their miserable lives. he wants to see someone piss themselves and blubber because they never expected HIM to have the upper hand - much less hold their goddamn lives in his palm!

this was a huge ego boost. this fed in to his delusions. he enacted a daydream. now he can go out there alone. he can do anything. he's a big hot shot.. except that he's also an enormous coward that crumbles the moment James confronted him.

this behavior is something i've already mentioned, so i'll reiterate: he's determined to make sure James knows it isn't his fault; he's guilty for being caught; he's guilty that he's PERCEIVED to be guilty, he's making excuses so he's not the bad guy. i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that there HAVE been instances in his past where he was NOT at fault. there may have been events that FRAMED HIM and he had to take the blame.

maybe this is a reflection of that. he's begging James to believe him because many others hadn't. he NEEDS James to believe him, EVEN THOUGH he admits to his crime in the next breath. i'm not going to deny that Eddie's a victim. there've been a lot of problems in his past and he is a victim. in his mind he has to get out of this predicament right away scot-free because he wasn't in the wrong, he didn't do it, he was framed (by the guy that was looking at him funny), and it seems to me he's unable to differentiate when a situation has been pinned on him to take the downfall for, and when HE is actually at total fault for something that he did.

small note on the grave with his name on it: blatant foreshadowing. i have other thoughts on this, but we're just getting to the good part:

[In the end of the labyrinth, James is allowed to step into Eddie's Otherworld, which appears to take on the form of a meat locker and he perceives everyone to be laughing, ridiculing, and sneering at him. It is dark, bitterly cold, frosted over, and huge lumps of meat that are shaped like overweight human bodies dangle from meat-hooks. The meat locker presumably represents Eddie's cold detachment from reality and his lack of remorse in killing people, as well as being mocked as overweight and perhaps gluttonous.]

this seems pretty straightforward. more psychosis, more mental fraying. the huge lumps of meat sure do resemble Eddie, gotta say.. so you can also say that this is how he sees himself. how he thinks other people see him, just a fat clump of meat, nothing more, nothing less. he's just a glob of meat.

this is also how he probably has started to see other people: just meat. nothing more.. nothing less. because killin' a person ain't no big deal. he's removed humanity from himself and humanity from other people. they're not living. it doesn't matter. people aren't as valuable as everyone thinks they are. it's no big deal because there's nothing TO be a big deal about. to him, people aren't people anymore. he's lost touch with reality. he's lost his empathy. he's a shell full of hatred, spite, and malicious intent.

he's had a lot of shit slung at him, and it does not give him any right to be violent. full stop. self defense is a different shelf, different jar. outright, cold blooded violent acts spurred on by bottled hatred and trauma gives him zero support or reason to do that. he may be a victim, but that does not remove him from justification or innocence.

[James asks Eddie what he's doing, as there is yet another corpse by him on the floor. Eddie begins angrily venting, recounting all of the verbal abuse he's received from others throughout his life. Eddie claims that someone's intelligence and physical appearance are rendered meaningless once they are dead as a corpse can't laugh, and that he is willing to kill anyone who ridicules him. James tries to reason with Eddie, but Eddie's growing insanity, paranoia and insecurity causes him to translate James's reasoning into insults, especially after James unwisely asks Eddie if he's "gone nuts". Eddie's paranoia convinces him that James was always laughing at him behind his back, causing him to attack by shooting James non-fatally in the shoulder with his revolver.]

and there it's proven. he's again parroting what he's been hearing all his life. he's been called stupid, ugly, gross - things that are assumed of him because of how he looks. he's not conventionally attractive. he's a slob. he's overweight. Eddie appears to be in his late twenties and he's dressing like a frat boy. so he's trying to dress younger and be accepted and seen as cool for what he wears. none of it's working. he's a joke.

he's also immature. this doesn't help his case against bullying. Eddie's probably reduced himself socially and mentally all his life to try to fit in. maybe he's tried to be the funny guy; maybe he's tried to be the funny guy that'll drink that weird, gross glass that everyone contributed to, the guy you can tell to go dive into a dumpster to get something as a dare and everyone just laughs. Eddie's been used and manipulated. he's an idiot. he's socially stunted. his peers, and probably his home life, has been abhorrent and unacceptable, and no, he probably wasn't always like this. people and environment made him this way.

or so he likes to think.

i don't believe, even in all his shitty life, others "made" him this way. he was greatly influenced. you can point blame to a shitload of people and list off their offenses. people have a large hand in shaping another person - but it's up to that particular individual to grow outside of it, seek help, evolve, become more than their abuse and trauma.

psychosis again in the paranoid delusions. he's ramping himself up. a lot of murders happen after the murderer "psyches" themselves up - it's needed. though Eddie is rapidly spiraling, you can see the last granule of someone who may not want to do this, after all; even after he proclaimed "killing a person ain't no big deal". we don't know what Eddie was doing or thinking between then and now. maybe he was battling with himself. boasting. conjuring more scenes in his head of him taking out a whole flock of people willy nilly and ha ha, look at them, who're the idiots now? or maybe he was wrestling with what he did; how could he do that, he feels sick, no way, it doesn't feel so good after all. back and forth back and forth swing high swing low. no middle ground. one extreme or the other, and the malicious extreme has won out.

but that was a last ditch effort to see if he could bounce back. and he can't.

also, James is a fucking moron.

James is a goddamn fucking moron.

what we've deduced from James after all this time is that this guy is absolutely fried. he's not all there, he's emotionally dead, he has no idea how to handle his or anyone else's problems or emotional needs. James is callous and insensitive, and probably mostly out of emotional and general ignorance.

he's facing a guy who is on his very last shit, dancing on hot glass, waving a pistol around, spewing vitriol, clearly hateful and fragile and frenzied, and what does this absolute idiot do?

he asks Eddie if he's gone nuts. like the excerpt said, Eddie's already been skewing James's words into insults. this is the last straw. nobody wants to be accused of being crazy. that's an enormous slander. Eddie feels truly attacked there, and understandably so, because he kind of was attacked. James thinks he's sounding concerned. he's, again, shocked by Eddie's ranting and implications. he's probably scared and worried about Eddie (though likely more for himself, but this isn't a James dissection).

Eddie, however, has no ear for anything but insult. as stated, he now believes that James has been laughing at him all along, he's never been on his side, he's never cared about all that he's been through. paranoid delusions, ding ding ding! so naturally you gotta shoot a guy about it, right?

Eddie fully turns on James and makes good on his promise that he'd kill the next person who makes fun of him. and he's a bad shot even at near point-blank range. who'da thunk.

maybe he also oughta think about getting a job as a Stormtrooper.

[In a larger adjacent meat locker, Eddie continues his venting. Eddie admits he ran away after killing a bully's dog, and mentions that the dog tried to chew its own guts out as it was dying curled into a ball. Eddie mentions he had fun killing the dog, and says he was amused when he shot the bully and the bully cried more than the dog, showing that Eddie now assumes the role of despot. James asks Eddie if he thinks it's okay to kill people and says that Eddie needs help, and Eddie tells James to quit his holier-than-thou attitude.]

one of the first telltale signs of a possible future murderer or serial killer is if they tortured/killed animals in their childhood. we don't actually know this about Eddie. the only thing we do know is that he killed a bully's dog and he relished and laughed and enjoyed it, especially when it suffered so badly. that's not something that people with humanity do. that's someone who's beginning to lose all touch and interest in other peoples' welfare and lives. killing animals is the first step to killing people.

we don't now if Eddie had any reservations about it, or if he had to psyche himself up, or if it was done in a whirlwind of anger. no clue. the fact of the matter is that he killed someone's dog - an innocent thing, a life, a simple animal that was probably well loved and meant a lot to someone even if it was Eddie's bully - out of spite to HURT his bully. hmmm. no matter how you look at it, it's not a fair trade. that's depravity 101. there's nothing to spin that in his favor.

and he had FUN doing it.

and on top of that - he says he had MORE fun that the bully sobbed over his dog. Eddie viciously retaliated by killing someone's beloved dog, and they mourned, heartbroken, and Eddie had nothing for them but a cackle and sense of superiority. he'd won! take THAT!

where's the remorse? nowhere. where's the guilt? nowhere. was he justified? absolutely fucking not. he doesn't get a pass. at all. ever. cold blooded murder, enjoyment of the crime, exuberance that there was suffering.

"--showing that Eddie now assumes the role of despot." i'd say so! Eddie believes he's in total control now. he's a tyrant. James is an ant on his living room floor. he's very cocky here. and yeah, he does have an upper hand right now. James is in a meat locker with him, he's trapped, scared, disoriented by the way Eddie's voice bounces off the walls and moves around as Eddie stalks him in the meat. it's understandable that he feels like a lion playing with its food.

all this time, they're maneuvering around thick slabs of meat hanging from the ceiling. they're reminiscent of Eddie. could they also be the people he's bullied? do the amount of bodies mean anything to him? what about the covered ones? the fact of the matter here is that he's in a field of death and he's chasing James. James is probably his first live kill and he can't WAIT to taste it, so he's gotta relish it (and monologues about it, as one does. he's probably had a speech prepared for awhile).

re: dog and bully

"Then he came after me! I shot him too! Right in the leg! He cried more than the dog! He's gonna have a hard time playing football on what's left of that knee."

direct dialogue - further solidifies that Eddie's vindictive acts and subsequent satisfaction for his actions were without remorse. he removed a beloved dog and the dreams of his bully. schadenfreude? eehh. dubious territory. did the bully deserve it? no. am i defending the bully? absolutely not. but let's go on.

[James asks Eddie if he thinks it's okay to kill people and says that Eddie needs help, and Eddie tells James to quit his holier-than-thou attitude.]

James is doing some Olympic-grade repression here, but he's showing a moral compass, and actual concern that Eddie needs help. again, this is something delicate that people hate to hear. lots of people take HUGE offense to suggestions that they ought to get help. that means something's wrong with him. that HE'S wrong. that he's CRAZY. and that's bullshit, James; do you even know who the fuck you are? (and an aside: seriously, therapy is good for everyone. stop the stigma.)

"Don't get all holy on me, James. This town called you, too. You and me are the same. We're not like other people. Don't you know that?! Let's party!"

so Eddie knows something about James that James hasn't figured out yet. at some point, Eddie became aware. it's uncertain if that's self-awareness, and maybe it is, to a point. but he's also become aware of the nature of Silent Hill. something called Eddie here. he's not looking for anybody. he has no connections, other than Laura. what does he mean, "this town called you too/you and me are the same/we're hot like other people"? and then he asks him: "Don't you know that?"

doesn't he know that?

James has no idea what that means. Eddie's been handed spoilers. it seems that Eddie knows, not exactly what James has done, but got a very good idea about it. he tries to tell James that he's just like him, because they're fucked up and they've committed the same crime, they're different and they've been abused and life's put them through the wringer. James ought to know what it's like and relate, so what's with the attitude, Sunderland?

but why would Silent Hill summon Eddie? my guess is punishment. just deserts. nailing the last one in the coffin. snap, crackle, pop.

just like James.

i have a LOT more thoughts about the comparisons between James and Eddie, as well as James with Laura and Angela, buuut i sure have gone on. so i'll wrap it up.

Eddie is a victim. i will not deny that. it needs to be acknowledged properly. as i've said again and again, he's been dealt the worst hand in the house in life; he's been mistreated, demeaned, tossed around, just abused all over.

he also may very likely (highly likely) have some mental illness. anxiety, depression, paranoia, among others. mental illness is NOT to blame, NOR is it an excuse. there will be no stigma-based stereotypes and thinking about mental illness here. mental illness is devastating, and it varies WILDLY.

here, going by the assumption that Eddie may have a variation, it exacerbates his warped thinking and ties him into knots and gets him into a typhoon of distorted thoughts and behaviors. if he had gotten help at any point, there's a possibility that he could have had a really good chance at recovery and not been the person we see in game.

there's also a chance that even if he got the help, he would've found another way to retaliate that'd be violent. a bad egg is a bad egg. mental illness does not directly pin that outcome on a person.

Eddie is someone to empathize with. he has eating disorders. he has trouble socializing. he's been rejected by his peers and he's frustrated because he wants so badly to have acceptance. even the little kid who he's kind to is a huge snot and yet he still shows a good side of him to her. good. that's great to see. i think it, again, shows that he views children as innocence. he can't continue the cycle of abuse with a kid; be kind to them, they're still developing. they'll get a better chance at growing up than he did.

and that's the first and last example of empathy we see from Eddie.

empathize with him. a good character is one that you can struggle with. feel sorry for him. but don't project, don't try to excuse him and validate his behaviors for the sorry way he was treated. Eddie was a victim and he was a depraved murderer who ruined other peoples' lives and made them victims to his violent hatred. he is not a good person.

i've mentioned the grey scale before. as you get to know a person - and specifically here, a character - you discover things about them. maybe they seem like a shit person and then oh they're actually not bad, vice versa. the trouble is planting your roots on one side or the other and refusing to budge, refusing for your ideals and opinions to change. that's unhealthy as hell. that's black and white thinking. that's harmful to you and most horribly, others.

the player's opinion is SUPPOSED to swing and change. it HAS to be allowed to do that. Eddie is painted cowardly and pitiful and ohh feel sorry for him he's had a rough go. then his other side starts to emerge. maybe you don't like that he's become this. try to keep the better thoughts of him; maybe because one can relate, they see themselves in him, feel the same way (if true, please start thinking about why you feel like this and consider reevaluating things) and so you're determined to not be told otherwise. or maybe suddenly Eddie's a filthy fuckhead and cannot be excused, and won't hear another word about it.

dangerous both ways. open mindedness is needed. careful consideration exercised.

he's a very interesting character. i like Eddie. there's a lot to think about him. but he is not a hero by any means.

[simslegacy5083]

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/18/2024) Episode: Back to Reality

Noemi and Luigi popped home just long enough to drop off their Batuu souvenirs and bags , then headed right back out to pick up Skye and Blossom.

“It was great to have some time just for us” Noemi said as they climbed the steps to Isra and Rhy’s place “but I’m ready to see my baby!” Luigi just smiled and nodded. He didn’t feel nearly as ready to dive back into “that parenthood life”, but he wasn’t about to disappoint her by saying so.

They waved at Isra and the kids through the door, but as soon as little Skye spotted his mom he took off like a tiny parent-seeking rocket.

Isra wasn’t able to catch him in time and the toddler smacked face first into the nearly invisible glass. Fortunately, maternal comfort was close at hand. “Shhh, you’re OK, mommy and daddy are here now, we missed you so much.” Noemi whispered as she wrapped him in a hug.

“momma back now” Skye echoed, his tears subsiding quickly under her loving ministrations as his little friend played happily beside him, quite used to his drama by now. Luigi was hanging back to let Noemi handle it when Isra stepped up next to him to have a quiet private word.

“Luigi” she began “I have to tell you; Skye was a little… aggressive while he was here. He was fine with the older kids, but we had some issues with the infants. First, he bit Orson when he tried to take a toy Skye was playing with. Then yesterday, during a playdate with Beau and Breanne on the beach, he hit Betty after she accidently messed up his sandcastle. We convinced Beau not to bother you, but he’s pretty mad. You should talk to him.”

Luigi didn’t know what to say, finally landing on “I’m sorry about that. I know Skye likes things just so and he’s not used to sharing.”

Gesturing towards the back patio where Noemi had settled with the tiny terror in question for a game of peek-a-boo he continued “He was obviously missing us too. I’m sure now that we’re back, he’ll calm down. Also, thanks for the heads up about Beau, I’ll call him soon.”

Isra followed Luigi outside to join the others. Wanting to make sure she knew he was taking the information she’d provided seriously Luigi wasted no time filling Noemi in: “Honey, Isra was telling me that Skye here wasn’t very nice to the little ones while we were gone.”

Noemi was appalled when she heard what had happened, immediately telling Skye: “We don’t treat other sims that way! We have to be nice to our friends or they won’t want to play with us. Now you say sorry to Ms. Isra, and then we’re going to go find Orson and say sorry to him too.”

“Sorry” Skye parroted, looking vaguely in Isra’s direction “Thank you” she replied “Everybody makes mistakes. I’m sure Orson will forgive you too.”

As Noemi led Skye inside to the nursery, where Isra indicated the twins had just woken up from a nap, Rhys appeared. “Welcome back man!” he greeted Luigi “Can you believe the hype around the video you posted of your wedding dance!?”

“What hype?” Luigi said, all ears. “Part of the Batuu experience is avoiding interaction with the outside world as much as possible.”

Rhys shook his head in disbelief “Oh wow, they really keep you isolated at that theme park. Well, come on upstairs – you’ve got to see this.”

Luigi could hardly believe the millions of views listed under his SimTube video. “People are talking about it, and you, everywhere” Rhys told him “I know the PR department at work is going to want to capitalize on this while it’s still viral. I’d say you’re a proper celebrity now – congratulations!”

Thanking Rhys for the good news Luigi hurried downstairs to find Blossom and leave. He was eager get home and take a serious look at his SimTube analytics dashboard. His older videos were sure to be seeing an uptick in viewership thanks to this, and he was dying to review everything.

Noemi wasn’t thrilled to be the other half of the dance video that was apparently sweeping the nation, but she tried her best to take it in stride. She knew Luigi loved the fans and the fame, and she loved him. It was why she’d agreed to let him film them after all.

Collecting Blossom from under their friend’s couch, they agreed to catch up again soon before heading down the beach towards home.

In game I actually moved Skye into Isra’s household to live “that NPC life” for a couple days while I took his parents on their honeymoon, and this is what I came back to 🤪🤭!

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[ikemenomegas]

Just read all of your jjk works and loved loved all of them, especially that one post about yuta thinking gojo got a gf and gojo's alpha loosing his shit and laughing bc an affair is the least likeliest thing that gojo would do. and now im kicking my feat thinking about what the other students would think once they knew that gojo did in fact have a mate and wasnt at all a fuckboy. Like nobara side eyeing gojo when he says that he has a mate, totally not believing him until you actually appear or when she seas gojo in the passenger seat with you in the car.

Aaah! Thank you for reading. That Yuta can't think of anything worse than having relationships problems is one of my favorite jokes. My second favorite is maybe people thinking that Gojo is a player, with all the "time" he doesn't have, and all the emotional bandwidth he also doesn't have? I also don't write him as having a particularly high sex drive... I am also giggling at the faces the rest of the students make haha.

Gojo is going to pout when you laugh at him. He's going to say something like "you don't think I could..."

And you can pat him on the arm and say "I don't think you would" and even if you mean different things by it, it still makes him preen a little.

He doesn't hide you exactly but even if he calls you his mate in front of others, he's told enough bad jokes this could just be another one of those. Everyone knows he's touchy and a little possessive so if some other omega is around and he's a little louder than usual, that's just Gojo being Gojo. And everyone knows the best way to survive Gojo is just doing what he wants, so if you let him swing you around like a ragdoll and pat his hand and say "yes dear" with an insincere expression, or call his name when he's being especially overbearing... well you were classmates and get away with more than most.

Sure some people know he's mated, and not just mated but married, but often those are put off by his blatant displays of loud, whiny behavior that they just think he's being his usual ill-mannered self and don't confirm or deny anything.

It drives the students who care nuts. Some of them (Panda and Inumaki) are gossip-mongers. Some of them just absolutely do not believe it (Nobara cannot imagine who would mate their useless sensei, let alone you who is responsible and serious about jujutsu, and treats people with respect). Some of them... encourage Satoru to make this dream a reality (Yuuji doesn't care whether it's true or not, but if Satoru says he's leaving them early for date night with you then he's cheering Gojo sensei on to "make it a great night"; Hakari also encourages Satoru to "get it"). The others mock him if you refuse to do something to his face (Maki, mostly Maki).

Let's be honest, Satoru orchestrates the little clues he ends up leaving for the students. The adults? he will perform some misdirection so no one gets weird ideas about you and Satoru being one anothers' Achilles' heel (really you're in more danger than him). The kids, he chose because he trusts them enough to join his faction and he has this thing about wanting people to like him, but not minding if they don't.

He smirks at Nobara when she catches sight of you picking him up in an expensive car. The car makes her jealous. The fact that he sticks his tongue out at her and leaves her to catch the train/bus back to campus puts her in a delightfully entertaining little rage.

Inumaki and Panda enjoy the game of finding out whether you and Satoru are together much more fun than the outcome so he lets them play. He'll "almost" get caught going to his knees while you kiss him on campus, he will show up if you're at the convenience store and the students are nearby and openly flirt with you while they're watching, etc. They're disappointed when they find out because they would rather help facilitate drama.

Yuta is... sort of appalled haha. So is Maki, but for different reasons. Yuta at this point has never been in or witnessed a healthy relationship in his life. He has a bit of a hard time wrapping his head around what he's actually right about - the ways in which Gojo and his Alpha's relationship is unhealthy but they still stay with one another without ever thinking about changing. Maki cannot believe you "chose this guy", and will say it to your face while sparring to try and win.

[spidercat2099]

Strictly Business (Miguel x Reader)

This is a story I made based on lalazuli's "Cheater Miguel" bot in characater.ai so made sure to check it out!

Chapter 1: Shattered Dreams

The soccer field was alive with cheers and the sound of young voices calling out. Briella, my 10-year-old daughter, was at the center of it all, her passion for the game is evident in every move she made. Our youngest daughter, Sofia, who was only 1 year old, clapped her hands and giggled with excitement from the sidelines.

As I watched her play, a surge of pride and gratitude swelled within me. Miguel, her father and my loving husband stood beside me, his eyes gleaming with paternal joy.

But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing.

As the game ended I went to grab some food for Sofia and me. I made my way toward the bleachers, the echoes of Miguel's husky voice and another woman's flirtatious giggles reaching my ears. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach, and my steps quickened. My smile faded as I reached the source of the commotion, and my heart sank.

There, behind the bleachers, Miguel was planting kisses along the length of another woman's neck. His face flushed crimson with guilt as his eyes met mine, freezing him in place.

One hand flew to my mouth, stifling the urge to cry, while the other rested protectively on my belly as I let go of Sofia's hand. Emotions threatened to overwhelm me, and my feet began to move away from the scene without my brain even processing what was going on. My ears began to ring and all i could hear was muffled sounds.

Miguel was quick to catch up, his grip firm as he seized my arm, snapping me out of the trance I was in.

I turned to face him, feeling the weight of betrayal crush my spirit. I shook his hand off my wrist and held my chest as I struggle to even breathe "How... how... how could you?" I said my voice choked with anguish. "How could you do this to me? To us? To our family?" My friend, Emily, had heard the commotion happening and quickly rushed to get Sofia away from the scene.

"It's not my fault!" He said with frustration. "You haven't been there! You're too busy with your career that you forgot about me and MY needs! You put more work into your career than into your appearance now... Do you know that that's the reason we haven't made love in so long? On top of that, you come home every night and you're too tired to do anything. And me, being the kind and caring husband I am, decided to look for that spark somewhere else so as to not break our family apart. I never tried to force you to do anything you didn't want to! So can you blame me for going to Dana? She's the one who has been there for me..." He looks back at her.

"Por Dios... so suddenly this is my fault?" I swallow as my voice gets caught in my throat before beginning to rant "Do you think that I wanted a husband who just stays home all day and has it easier than I do? Did it ever occur to you that you could help me out more by getting a job, so that I don't have to pull all the weight of pushing us forward? I'm sorry I don't have all the time in the world like you do to go around fucking other— "

"Now you just wait a damn minute, I already told you why I was even with Dana. Plus, I'm the only one who's ever been home to be there for our kids, taking care of the household chores that you should be helping me with. You should be thanking me for all the hard work I do to make our home run smoothly!" he said with a scowl.

"Thanking you?" I laughed a little hysterically, appalled that he had the audacity to interrupt me with those disgusting accusations. "Thanking you? So I should be thanking you for going behind my back and sleeping with HER?", I say as I point at the home wrecker, "I wouldn't be surprised if you've let her into our house! I bet you've fucked her in our bed too, haven't you? You're disgusting. You don't deserve to be the father of our children!" I yell louder and louder as I begin to push him back with every sentence.

Miguel grabs my wrists in order to stop me from pushing him. "Cállate." he said a little menacingly and coldly. "Don't make this worse than it has to be. What about all our years together? What about the children? Are you really willing to ruin their life like this? You can't throw away everything we have right now for one mistake!" he says with his eyebrows furrowed in anger. His grip tightening slightly.

"So you admit that you made a mistake! Unbelievable! You're not even making sense, saying one thing and then contradicting yourself with something else", I screamed, my fists striking his chest, through his grip, but still very weakly since I could barely hold myself together. "You know you're the one who ruined everything, so don't try to put this on me!" I say with my voice breaking. I look him straight in the eyes. My voice is full of conviction, "I hate you, Miguel! I hate you more than anything and I will never forgive you for this, you selfish... piece... of shit! Púdrate." I couldn't take it any longer and I crumbled to the ground. My body turned fragile by the overwhelming events unfolding. I tried to catch my breath as tears began to form in my eyes.

"Ya para! Now you're just begging for attention! Get up right now." He says aggressively.

"I...I can't.." I say, trying to get up but my legs feel weak.

"What do you mean you can't? You were standing just fine a second ago, stop being dramatic." He continued.

I gasped, my breath heaving as I knelt on all fours. Tears began to stream down my face, and I felt something rise in my throat, causing me to cough. I wiped the vomit from my face with trembling hands. "Oh...shit..."

Miguel stood frozen, shocked by my distress. He had never seen me in such a state before. His eyebrows unfurrow, his face now with concern instead of anger. "¿Qué te está pasando, querida?" His voice suddenly gentle. "Somebody call 911! Please...We need an ambulance!" Miguel desperately called out. Are you okay? What can I do?"

Still gasping for air, I felt something warm trickle down my leg, and horror mixed with anguish. "You... you've done enough," I say in a sharp, cold, and frail voice before I began to pass out. He began embracing me tightly as he saw my eyes close, he carried me towards our car, his movements frantic as I slowly lose consciousness. He buckled me in, then slammed his foot down on the accelerator, speeding towards the nearest hospital.

[ask-the-becile-boys]

Story. That's a Wrap

Previous | Next

[ID: 14 digitally sketched panels in b/w]

[Panel 1: The necromancer , revealed to be a teenager with a resemblence to Thadeus Becile, with curly hair and wearing large round glasses. He sits on the ground, (SFX) huffing and grimacing. Hare, from off panel, says, "So the big, bad necromancer was just some pimply teen." Locksmith, also off panel, says, "A child playing with forces greater than himself. What do we do with him?"]

[Panel 2: The Skull's in-game character ripping pages out of the tome the necromancer previously held. He says, out of character, "The book is the source of his power, right? Tear it up and tell the kid to scram."]

[Panel 3: Back at the game table, Riker yawns. Scratch looks over sympathetically, making the first part of the ASL sign for 'wrap up,' and says, "And with that, let's wrap up for tonight."]

[Panel 4: The Jack worriedly leans over to Scratch and asks, "But what about the little girl?" Scratch happily makes the ASL sign for 'next,' saying, "That's something you can look into next time!"]

[Panel 5: The Jack looks across the table to Locksmith, who is beginning to stand up. The Jack says, "Oh (ellipses) Next time (ellipses) of course (ellipses)" Locksmith says, "Come, The Jack. We have an event to attend."]

[Panel 6: Riker arches an eyebrow at Locksmith and asks, "You're taking him out this late?" Locksmith replies, "The night abounds with activity."]

[Panel 7: Riker also begins to stand, looking weary. He says, "Well, I need to sleep, since Skull wants his maintenance done by dawn, like usual." Scratch, making the ASL sign for 'story,' says, "If anyone wants to work on their character backstory, I can lend them the guidebook."]

[Panel 8: Dee moves to Scratch, and he hands her the guidebook from the table while making the ASL sign for 'thank you.' Scratch says, "And we have a taker. Here you go, Dee. Thanks for playing!"]

[Panel 9: Dee, holding the book to her chest, turns to Hare and says, "You're helping me write tonight." Hare, appalled, says, "What?! Why?!"]

[Panel 10: Dee pointedly jabs a finger into Hare's chest, baring her teeth as she says, "Because you (all caps) OWE ME for (all caps) LEAVING." Hare looks down at her miserably and says, "Can't you just kick my aft? Have mercy."]

[Panel 11: Dee starts to leave, Hare slumping after her in defeat. Hare says, "[sigh] Fine, fine. Night, you weirdos." From off panel, The Jack calls, "Hare--!!"]

[Panel 12: Hare looks over at The Jack sadly and asks, "(ellipses) Yeah, Jacky?" The Jack hesitates, glancing at Locksmith watching him in the background, and says, "(ellipses)"]

[Panel 13: The Jack nervously wrings his hands and says, "(ellipses) Thank you (pause) for playing with us."]

[Panel 14: Hare turns away, but smiles and waves in recognition, letting off a little smoke. He says, "(ellipses) Heh. G'night, Jacky." End ID]

[inairbinad]

Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire! (4)

part four of seven | Explicit (eventually) Part One | Part Three | Read on AO3

“Come on Steve, we never get quality one-on-one time anymore,” Dustin whined into the phone, trying to get Steve to forgive him and hang out again.

“That’s because you’re a little sneak,” Steve replied casually, examining his cuticles as he held the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. It’d been two more weeks since the closet incident, but Dustin’s punishment of no rides—even when the other kids were getting them—had only lasted a few days. Steve couldn’t stay mad at the kid, but he could keep lording it over him as a guilt trip every chance he got.

“I promise I won’t do anything like that again,” Dustin pleaded. “But you have to admit, you guys are closer now, right?”

Steve had seen Eddie a few times since, and things did seem at least back to their flirtatious status quo, but it was never just the two of them. They very pointedly hadn’t brought up the feeding situation, either, though Steve was more than willing to offer again. He spent too much time worrying if Eddie was eating at all, actually.

(And if Steve started exclusively jerking off to the memory of the Eddie’s teeth in his wrist and tongue on his skin after that, well, that was Steve’s business.)

“If you say so, Henderson,” Steve relented without giving too much away. He hadn’t admitted to anyone exactly what happened in that closet, not even Robin. But he couldn’t deny that Dustin’s little scheme had done something to shift whatever relationship he and Eddie had now. “What did you have in mind?”

“How do you feel about a night at the fair?” Dustin asked, smile obvious in his voice. 

Steve didn’t trust the sound of that smile, but he agreed anyway.

———

Steve was completely unsurprised when Dustin’s version of ‘quality time’ together involved Eddie. In fact, he would have been more surprised if Eddie didn’t magically run into them at the fair in some capacity. Eddie, on the other hand, seemed to be at least a little appalled by Dustin’s blatant lying.

“You said you wanted to spend time, and I quote, ‘just the two of us!’” Eddie cried. “No offense, Stevie.”

“None taken.” Steve could only laugh at the nerve of this kid they practically shared custody of. Steve knew this was just another ploy to get him to spend more time with Eddie, but at least Dustin would be a buffer between Steve and his wildly inappropriate thoughts this time. He was willing to go along with it as long as Eddie was. “He told me the same thing.”

“Is it so bad of me to want a family outing?” Dustin crowed, pleading his case. “Where we can all spend some quality time together?”

Steve rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify the display with any more of a response. “You got us here, alright? Now what are we doing first? Food, rides, or games?”

“Games!” Dustin and Eddie said in equally excitable voices. Steve smiled at them both and led them off towards a row of booths filled to the brim with unwinnable stuffed animals.

First Dustin made them play their hand at water pistols, a game Steve resoundingly hated. But then, it was already well established that he was bat guy, not a gun guy. Dustin ended up winning, but all he had to show for it was an off-brand Star Wars themed pencil sharpener and a finger cramp that he wouldn’t stop complaining about. 

Next they went to have their fortunes told by an old lady with scraggly gray hair and a (probably fake, Steve suspected) mole on her nose to complete her witch’s getup. She took one look at Eddie when he sat down, whispered “I see blood,” and all three of them booked it out of there faster than she could say boo.

After that Eddie wanted to shake off the creeps and play Skee-ball, claiming he was “the master,” and that Steve couldn’t possibly beat him. Steve begged to differ, as that title had historically been his, and a whole lot of bickering and competitiveness ensued. Eddie tried his usual tricks of trying to distract Steve with various gutter-minded and flirtatious remarks (“Bet you can’t get it in the hole,” said in the most delighted and daring voice was one Steve was having trouble forgetting), but Steve did his best to steel his nerves and ignore it. 

He was only partly successful, so after a couple of rounds he decided to play dirty, too. 

At first Steve stood back, his hip cocked and his arms crossed as he very deliberately stared at how Eddie’s body moved with each throw. But he waited for Eddie to come to him.

“What, Harrington?” Eddie asked, after his second toss, looking a little put out. Dustin perked up, expectantly watching the both of them with a stupid grin on his face. 

“Nothing,” Steve said, innocent. But Eddie wasn’t buying it. He just crossed his arms over his chest and mirrored Steve in a challenge, just like Steve had wanted. So Steve shrugged noncommittally and said, “Your stance is wrong, is all.”

“My stance—” Eddie huffed and cut himself off with a disbelieving smile. “You’re losing and you’re critiquing my stance?” 

“I’m not losing,” Steve pointed out, because he wasn’t. He probably would be after this round, based on how many 100s Eddie was hitting, but that was all the more reason to try and throw a wrench in the works. “Score, Dust?”

“Steve’s right, actually,” Dustin replied with ease, and Steve couldn’t help but suspect Dustin was trying to help him out. 

Eddie grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and Steve just chuckled when he dropped his chin to his chest in resignation. Then something in his posture changed, and he looked up at Steve with a dangerous grin. “Why don’t you come show me what I’m doing wrong, then?”

If Eddie thought he’d found the upper hand by suggesting it, Steve couldn’t wait to show that this was exactly what he’d been gunning for. Or maybe they both just wanted to give Steve an excuse to touch Eddie and all of this was just silly pretense. Either way, Steve didn’t care.

He inched up behind Eddie with a crooked smile, and gently put his hands on Eddie’s hips. Then he twisted Eddie back towards himself a bit, until Eddie’s right hip pressed into Steve’s. Steve just barely kept his nose out of Eddie’s hair when he murmured, “Just tilt your hips like this. It's all about finding the right angle.”

Eddie scoffed, but it sounded a little stiff. All the same, he managed to bite back, “You’re not the only one who knows how to use their body, jock.”

The line might’ve given Steve a plethora of ideas of what else Eddie might’ve been able to do with his body, sure. But invoking jock culture also gave Steve a devious idea.

“Fair enough, nerd,” Steve laughed lightly, then smacked Eddie’s ass as if he’d just made a great play on the court. He lingered just for just a moment before he retreated back to his perch beside Dustin. 

Eddie looked mildly scandalized, while Dustin just snickered and gave Steve an appreciative pat on the shoulder. Eddie managed to recover well enough to shake his head with a laugh and throw the ball, but it was the first time he’d missed potting a 100 in several throws.

Steve didn’t do much to contain his self-satisfied smirk.

In the end it was close, but Steve failed to account for the special vampire advantage, and he lost on the last throw. He couldn’t even be bothered to care, because the victory dance Eddie did somehow managed to be both cute and sexy when he wiggled his hips and his shirt rode up a little. 

All-in-all, Steve was willing to consider it a win.

Dustin wanted popcorn next, so Eddie went off to get some while Steve and Dustin wandered around, looking for their next attraction. When they came upon the basketball free throw game, Dustin immediately bounced on his heels and pointed at a giant pink stuffed bear that was hanging there as one of the grand prizes. 

“I have it on good authority that Eddie very much wants that pink bear,” Dustin said, loudly.

“Oh? Did he tell you that psychically?” Steve asked. 

“No,” Dustin grumbled. “I just know him well enough to know he would love it.”

“Good for him,” Steve shrugged. He knew exactly where Dustin was going with this, but Steve was pretty certain it was an impossible ask. Steve had spent a lot of time and trying to win prizes from this game, thinking he’d have an advantage since he was good at actual basketball, but these hoops were too small and the ball never had the right amount of air in it. He could never get the feel of it right, much to the disappointment of several of his former dates. 

“You should win it for him,” Dustin suggested, but it sounded more like an order. 

“Pretty sure that would be weird,” Steve said, instead of addressing the more glaring problem with the fact that he didn’t think he could win it. 

“It would not,” Dusting sighed. “It would be romantic! God. I thought you were good at this stuff.”

“I am,” Steve defended himself weakly. “But these games are rigged anyway. The hoop is too small!”

Dustin opened his mouth to argue some more just as Eddie sauntered up to them both, munching on a giant stick of cotton candy and handing over two bags of popcorn for Steve and Dustin each. Steve had to do a double take.

“What—“ Steve stopped and tried to figure out a polite way to phrase his question about the dietary restrictions of vampires. “Does that even taste like anything to you?”

“Of course it does. Like pure sugar,” Eddie flashed him a toothy grin, showing off his dimples as he did. “It’s like drinking the blood of a Care Bear.”

“Charming,” Steve remarked, but couldn’t keep his grin quite contained. Eddie noticed and only smiled bigger at him. 

“What were we arguing about, dearest family?” Eddie asked, turning to Dustin. 

“Steve doesn’t think he can win the free throw game,” Dustin said immediately. 

“Please,” Eddie scoffed. For a split second, Steve thought he might be taking his side, but then Eddie faced him full on with that same daring smirk. “I’ve seen you play. You can kick that game’s ass.”

Steve appreciated the vote of confidence, but he was too busy getting stuck on the words ‘I’ve seen you play’ to pay it much mind. “You have?” he asked, baffled. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Um.” Eddie shifted his eyes quickly between Steve and Dustin, apparently realizing he’d admitted something he hadn’t meant to. Dustin had a look of pure glee on his face, and Steve had to admit he was probably nearly as happy in that moment. At some point, Eddie must have decided to roll with it instead of being embarrassed, because he leaned in and rested a hand against Steve’s chest, then said in a low tone, “I do hate it. But I believe in you, Stevie.”

Fuck me, Steve thought. Now he had to win that goddamn bear. 

It took him three rounds—the first to really get a feel for what kind of force he had to toss the ball with, the second to actually use that knowledge and get into a groove, the third to perfect it—but he did, in fact, win the goddamn bear. Eddie and Dustin were both bouncing up and down and cheering him on. 

“How in the hell did you actually manage that?” Eddie asked between cheers, squeezing Steve’s biceps in excitement as he did.

“I thought you believed in me?” Steve asked, playing at being offended. Eddie’s eyes practically sparkled as he opened his mouth to respond, but the kid working the booth interrupted when he flagged Steve down to ask which prize he wanted.

Before he even had a chance to ask and make sure he picked the right one, Eddie leaned into his ear and muttered, “I’d pick that teddy bear, if I were you.”

Dustin overheard it anyway, because he snorted so loud that any astronauts in orbit probably noticed. He didn’t have to say I told you so for Steve to hear it anyway. 

Steve pointed out the pink bear, and once it was in his hands he promptly handed it over to Eddie with a bow and a bit of flourish. 

“For me?” Eddie put his hand flat over his heart and let his eyes go wide. Steve couldn’t help but smirk.

“Couldn’t have won it without you,” Steve said, and Eddie gingerly accepted the bear from him. It was so big it stretched from the top of Eddie’s head to his knees, so he had to wrap his arms all the way around it to wrangle it in. Steve reached out and felt the soft plush of the bear’s fur between his fingertips, making sure to let his knuckles brush against the back of Eddie’s hand as well. He moved a fraction of a step closer and dropped his voice for only Eddie to hear him say, “It just takes a soft touch, is all.”

Steve was close enough to see the way his words made Eddie shiver, but Eddie managed to keep a straight face throughout. 

“I think I’ll name him Lars,” Eddie said, turning back to his bear. 

Steve bit down on a triumphant smile.

They took a long enough break for Steve to force Dustin to eat something resembling real food, before Dustin insisted on going to ride the Ferris wheel next. He practically skipped on the walk over while Steve begrudgingly trudged along behind. Strictly speaking, he didn’t exactly find the concept of a Ferris wheel appealing, and he hadn’t braved getting on one since he was about thirteen.

But by the time they’d already been in line for fifteen minutes, Steve couldn’t really bring himself to stay back and wait for Dustin and Eddie to ride it on their own. This night was going too well, and Steve refused to be a party pooper on account of his fear of heights. He decided the best thing he could do was suck it up and try not to look down. 

Once they were next in line, he thought he’d talked himself down enough to try and enjoy it. Even though it was four to a car, Eddie and Steve were struggling to fit Lars in while Dustin idled behind them. Once they finally did, Eddie plopped onto a bench and Steve sat beside him. To Steve’s surprise, the operator closed the door behind them without Dustin getting in. 

“Wait, where’s Dust—“ Steve started to ask, looking around the platform for Dustin’s Thinking Cap, before it dawned on him exactly what just happened. Again. 

Eddie could only manage a bubbling laugh, probably resigned to the fate of dealing with this kind of shit from Dustin for the rest of their lives. Not only was he not getting on the ride with them, he was absolutely nowhere to be seen.

“He better not have gotten kidnapped,” Steve grumbled. “Because I’m just assuming he’s a little shit and doesn’t actually need help.”

“He’d be an awful person to kidnap,” Eddie said around his laughter. “They’d give him back before they even made a ransom demand on account of his meddling in their personal lives.”

Steve snorted, unable to disagree with that. Instead of getting even more worked up than he already was, he tried to settle in for the ride. He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arm across the backrest, casually resting it against Eddie’s shoulders. “Guess it’s just you, me, and Lars.”

To Steve’s complete surprise, Eddie responded by leaning further into his side just as the wheel started to turn. 

“He’s very invested in our getting along,” Eddie said quietly. 

“Who, Lars?” Steve asked, and Eddie lightly slapped his arm.

“Dustin,” he corrected with a lopsided grin.

Steve held in a scoff, not yet wanting to admit aloud what Dustin was actually trying to do here. Eddie wasn’t stupid, and Steve thought he had to know already—but Steve still wasn’t sure if Eddie was actually open to more than whatever it was they were currently doing.

“Well, to his credit, I think it’s working,” Steve said, unable to keep his hesitance from bleeding into his voice. Last time he’d confidently asserted that he and Eddie were on good terms, he turned out to be very wrong. 

“Oh, it definitely is,” Eddie said, staring at his hands in his lap with a small smile. “In fact I think he’s going overboard. We’re already friends. What more does he want?”

Steve’s mouth went dry as he searched for any answer to that question that wouldn’t leave him caught out. He pretended to clear his throat before saying, “I don’t know. Friendship bracelets?”

“Oooh, or we could wear matching outfits,” Eddie suggested. 

“Yeah? You wanna go through my collection of khakis?” Steve offered. 

“Don’t kill our friendship in its crib, Harrington,” Eddie warned, pointing a finger at Steve’s chest. “Especially not when you’d look much better in my clothes.”

Steve spent a good long pause getting caught up in picturing that in his head, but was abruptly interrupted when the wheel jerked to a stop. 

“Uh…” Steve said, braving a look towards the ground. They were nearly at the top of this thing, and the view alone was starting to make his heart hammer in his chest. He knew sometimes Ferris wheels paused for people to ‘hang around,’ so to speak, but he didn’t think it usually came with a screeching grinding noise. “Is that normal?”

“I—“ Eddie looked down as he was cut off by the sound of the guy in the car below them yelling. 

“What the fuck!” He practically screeched.

“—don’t think so, no.” Eddie finished. Then he looked back at Steve’s face and frowned. “You okay, Stevie? You’re looking a little green.”

“I, uh, don’t exactly love heights,” Steve admitted. Eddie went paler than usual.

“Then why in the fuck did you get on a Ferris wheel?” he demanded.

“Didn’t want to ruin the fun?” Steve tried, only to be met with a truly unimpressed look from Eddie in return. 

“You need to learn to tell people no, my friend,” he chastised, while staring Steve down quite effectively.

“Well I didn’t think the damn thing would get stuck, either!” Steve cried, starting to feel himself panic. Stupidly, he looked out over the edge of the cart again, where he saw the damn child they had operating this thing run off in search of help. Steve dragged his eyes back into the car and stared at his shoes as he felt his breath come in quick, short spurts. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not helping.” Eddie realized aloud. He looked around him, apparently scrambling to come up with some kind of idea to help Steve calm down. He seemed to settle on a course of action when he twisted in his seat to face Steve, and gently tugged Steve’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Look at me,” Eddie prompted, then dropped his hand when Steve did. He almost whined at the loss of contact, until Eddie took both of Steve’s hands in his own instead.  “Don’t look down, don’t look at the horizon, don’t look at anything but me.”

Desperate never to look down again, Steve followed Eddie’s instructions. He focused on Eddie’s eyes, on the deep brown of them that sometimes seemed tinged with amber these days, and the softness with which they regarded Steve in that moment. 

“Good,” Eddie praised. “Now breathe with me. In, two, three, four….out, two, three, four…again.” Steve followed Eddie’s breaths until it seemed like he and Eddie were the only two people that existed, sitting here on top of the world together. He stayed in that presence of mind for as long as he could hold onto it with shaky, desperate fingers. By some miracle, it started to calm him down. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Steve asked once he felt like he could speak again. He could still feel the buzz of something excited and a little scared in his veins, but he wasn’t entirely sure that was his fear of heights so much as it was just a side effect of Eddie still gently holding onto his hands. 

“Wayne,” Eddie answered with a faint smile. Steve’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Eddie elaborated. “I used to get panic attacks, especially after I finally moved out of my parents’ house and in with him.”

Steve didn’t have much time to process that information, because now that Eddie seemed satisfied that Steve wasn’t going to hyperventilate, he turned away and started digging around in one of the many pockets in his leather jacket. Steve had been wondering why Eddie’d even worn the thing at all, but then realized he could probably get away with fashion statements without overheating anymore. After another moment of fidgeting, Eddie huffed out a small ‘aha’ and dug a flask out of one of the pockets. He presented it to Steve like it was a prize. “Drink up, big boy. Looks like we’re gonna have to wait here.”

Steve accepted the flask and took a swig, not caring much about whatever might be in it. It turned out to be vodka. 

“Why did you bring a flask if you can’t drink anymore?” Steve asked after taking a gulp. The burn of the vodka at the back of his throat did a lot to make him feel more grounded, despite the fact that he was currently suspended about a hundred feet in the air.

“Thought you might want it,” Eddie shrugged, apparently trying to avoid Steve’s eye. 

Steve thought it was very cute that Eddie thought of him at all, but eventually his brain caught up to the part of that explanation that didn’t quite add up.

“I thought you didn’t know that I’d be here?” Steve tilted his head to try and get a better look at Eddie’s face. The most he could make out was a faint, crooked grin.

“Please,” Eddie scoffed then looked back at Steve. “Henderson is very predictable. I just put on that surprised act to guilt trip him for being a little liar instead of just asking, ‘Hey, wanna go to the fair with me and Steve?’ like a normal person.”

Steve felt a little smug at the admission, but he didn’t rub it in. Instead he said, “Thanks. For bringing it, I mean. It’s helping.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie scratched the back of his neck. “Technically I owed you a drink. Or a transfusion. And don’t try to tell me that I didn’t need to do that, either.”

Steve pressed his lips together and mimed locking them and tossing the key over the side of the car. Eddie rolled his eyes in an affectionate kind of way and rested his chin in his hand. He never took his eyes off Steve, who took one more swig from the flask before capping it and handing it back over. He needed the liquid courage for his next question. 

“Have you, uh, been eating well? Since?” Steve winced at himself, but he was dying to ask. He tried to lighten his tone a little, at least, by adding, “Or is cotton candy one of the food groups for vampires?”

“Oh, god,” Eddie groaned, but it seemed mostly good-natured. At least Steve hoped it was. “You’re gonna fuss over my eating habits for the rest of time, aren’t you?”

“Probably, yeah.” Steve shrugged and smiled. Eddie cast him a sideways glance and then ran his hands through his hair, fluffing it up in the process. He kept staring forward though, and Steve couldn’t help but miss the eye contact.

“I mean, cotton candy is enough of a nothing food that it won’t make me throw up later,” he said, as if that part of Steve’s question had been serious at all. “But it doesn’t give me much of a sugar high anymore, which is sort of the whole goddamn point.”

“Eddie—“ Steve started, but Eddie cut him off.

“Fine, yes,” Eddie huffed. “I’ve been eating.”

“Good.” Steve nodded, bit his lip, then decided to throw caution to the wind and say what was on his mind anyway. “Because I can—“

“Let’s just call that a one time thing, yeah?” Eddie cut him off again before Steve could even offer to do it again. Was it weird that he wanted to? Eddie seemed to think so, otherwise he wouldn’t have been quite so short about it.

“Oh,” Steve pushed out, his voice sounding pathetic to his own ears. He was sure his face had drooped into something pitiful looking as well. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Steve went back to staring at his shoes, but he could feel Eddie’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head. He couldn’t bring himself to look back up, though—at least not until Eddie gently nudged his knee against Steve’s.

“Did you…” Eddie started to ask something, then bit his lip and stopped. Steve returned the knee-nudge to try and encourage him. “Was that something you wanted to do? Again?”

“I mean,” Steve’s voice creaked, and he had to clear his throat again. “Yeah. If you wanted to.”

“No seriously, Steve,” Eddie said. “I’m not asking what I want. This won’t be another ‘sure I’ll ride the Ferris wheel even though I’m terrified’ situation. Do you want to?”

“Yes,” Steve breathed out, not bothering to lie. Robin was really the only other person who ever asked Steve what he wanted most of the time, and hearing it come from Eddie too opened the floodgates. “Is that weird? Because if it is—if it’s too fucked up for you—I understand. Like absolutely no offense would be taken—”

Eddie put a hand on Steve’s arm to get him to stop rambling. Steve chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself from starting up again, while Eddie took a beat to choose his next words. 

“It’s not too fucked up, Stevie. It’s just the right amount of fucked up, actually.” 

His shy grin made Steve feel like he could fly, but still being trapped up here, the thought kind of made him nauseous. Or maybe those were just the butterflies that were kicking up in his stomach. Either way, he couldn’t stop the dopey grin that spread across his face, like agreeing to let someone drink your blood was the height of commitment. 

It was pretty damn intimate, though, Steve had to admit. 

“Okay then,” Steve nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. 

“Okay then,” Eddie repeated. They were still incredibly close, even by the standards of the enclosed space they were stuck in. Steve felt the heat of each place their bodies made contact—where Eddie’s hand still rested on Steve’s forearm, where their thighs were pressed together on the narrow bench. Steve watched as the breeze picked up a stray curl and made it dance across the sliver of Eddie’s collarbone that peeked out beneath his shirt. Steve wanted to tuck it behind Eddie’s ear and leave his hand to rest right on Eddie’s neck.

Steve thought this would have been the perfect set up, on Dustin’s part—to the point were Steve wondered if Dustin had actually managed to sabotage the ride himself, somehow. All except for the one detail that threatened to ruin it. They were in public. There was literally nothing Steve could do about the way Eddie was looking at him now, not with so many prying, small-town, small-minded eyes around to catch them out. 

Steve didn’t know if he was more grateful or infuriated that the ride lurched forward in that moment, then began its descent back towards solid ground. 

By the time Steve managed to drag himself out of the car, his knees felt wobbly. He felt Eddie come up behind him and gently put his hands on Steve’s waist to help stabilize him. 

“You alright there, soldier?” Eddie murmured in his ear. Steve gave a stiff nod, curling his toes in his sneakers to try and bring some sense of stability back into his body. 

“I’m good,” Steve assured him. “Don’t forget Lars.”

“As if I ever could,” Eddie huffed out a laugh. Steve felt it against the curve of his neck and had to suppress a shiver. Just as quickly as it had come, Eddie’s presence at his back vanished. He reappeared by Steve’s side a moment later, Lars in hand, and said, “Now. Shall we go find us a Henderson to kill?”

Dustin was full of excuses once they’d found him. He’d said, “I didn’t do it on purpose!” and “I saw a friend I had to say hello to!” so many times that none of the words sounded like English anymore. Eddie and Steve only exchanged a series of exasperated looks over the top of his capped head before giving him more shit for being an incorrigible liar. 

They spent another couple of hours on rides that Steve actually liked, or just wandering around, or listening to Dustin’s lame excuses for ditching them. It was absolutely an improvement over Steve's minor meltdown, but really it was all about Eddie wanting to be sure that Steve was okay to drive home on his own as well. Steve never really felt the effect of the couple of swigs from Eddie’s flask he’d taken at all, beyond the way it helped him feel a little less like he was about to die at the top of a Ferris wheel. 

All the same, it felt strangely nice for Eddie to fuss over him and buy him a funnel cake to be sure.

Eddie offered to take Dustin home since Steve brought him, but Steve only agreed to it once he’d made Eddie promise not to throw the little interloper in the quarry. Then they’d hugged goodbye in a lingering sort of way that made Steve want to scream.

Instead he settled for rolling the windows down and letting the sticky July air come whooshing into the beemer in a rush, blaring I Want to Know What Love Is and singing it at the top of his lungs as he drove home alone.  

Steve called Robin the second he got home. She didn’t answer until the sixth ring. “Hi, Steve.”

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, once again wondering how she always was able to guess.

“Only my favorite platonic soulmate would let it ring that long on a Friday night and still expect an answer,” Robin said. Steve could hear the shrug in her voice.

“Well obviously I was right,” Steve pointed out as he twisted the phone cord between his fingers. “Are you busy?”

“Nope,” Robin sighed. “My favorite platonic soulmate ditched me to hang out with a fifteen year old tonight, if I remember correctly.”

“You said you had plans with Nance!” Steve yelped indignantly. 

“Jesus, calm down. I did, dingus,” she said with a scratchy laugh. “I’m just fucking with you. What’s got you all squeaky?”

“Guess who also just happened to be there, also hanging out with the fifteen year old?” Steve offered.

“Gee, could it have been Eddie?” Robin asked, full of mock surprise.

“It was, indeed,” Steve confirmed, then launched into a rather whiny recap of the events of his evening. When he got to the part about his and Eddie’s little blood pact, though, he hesitated. “I should probably also tell you about something that happened when we were trapped in the closet at your graduation party.”

“Okay…” Robin said, clearly wary. “I thought you already told me all of that?”

“I kind of left out a key part of the story,” Steve hedged. 

“Like?”

“I may have let Eddie…suck my blood. Just a little.” Steve knew enough to pull the phone away from his ear a bit as soon as he stopped talking.

“You WHAT?!” Robin screeched, and Steve knew he’d made the right decision.

“He hadn’t eaten in two weeks, Robin—“

“Get your ass over here right now, Harrington,” Robin cut him off with her sternest tone. “I need details.”

The line went dead before he even had a chance to consider if he wanted to agree or argue with her. Steve sighed and grabbed his keys.

———

Naturally, Robin had about a million questions. By the time Steve thought she’d exhausted them all, it was nearly midnight, and he was sprawled out across her bed feeling completely sorry for himself.

“What am I going to do, Robbie?” he whined. “Eddie is not an idiot. He has to know what Dustin is doing, because he is not subtle.”

“Neither are you, apparently,” Robin deadpanned, and mimed biting her own wrist. Steve pulled a pillow over his face and let out a muffled howl.

“I know,” he agreed once he was done. “I’m a disaster.”

“Well, to be fair, you weren’t subtle before the blood sucking either,” Robin pointed out. Steve hated that she was right about that, too.

“Yeah, well,” Steve stammered his way into an excuse. “That was when I thought he was just fucking with me or playing around. Now he’s got to know I was serious about all of it.”

This time it was Robin’s turn to scream into a pillow. When she emerged, hair mussed and face a little red, she said, “You big baby.”

“Robin,” Steve whined again. “I’m in crisis.”

“Oh my god. Look,” she shifted her posture to sit up straighter, like she was about to level with him, so Steve made sure to pay attention. “If he realizes you’re serious, that’s a good thing. Because then maybe you’ll both stop being assholes and tell each other how you feel instead of whining to your friends about it—“

Robin abruptly cut herself off, and her eyes widened like she’d just let something slip. 

“Rob…” Steve drew out her name in a way that he hoped would make her confess. Her cheeks were turning increasingly more pink, and she refused to look at him. 

“What?” she asked, then bit her lip. 

“What do you know?” Steve asked, sitting up for the first time in probably an hour or more. He hugged the pillow he was still holding to his chest and stared her down. 

“Nothing,” Robin squeaked.

“Robin.” Steve said, and put on his best begging face—the one he knew she could rarely resist.

“Ugh, please don’t look at me like that,” Robin tried to look away from him, but he just kept shifting back into her line of sight.

“I’m going to cry if you don’t tell me what you know,” he threatened.

“Fine!” Robin growled. “Nancy may have told me that she has a similar problem with Eddie whining to her about you. It was very cathartic to talk to someone who understands what idiots you two are, honestly.”

Steve gave himself a good minute to process what Robin had just said, because he was pretty sure his brain was audibly making a whirring sound. 

“…Whining about me how, exactly?” Steve said, when finally managed to ask a follow-up question. 

“The same way you whine about him! About how he’s totally into you, but keeps worrying that you’re gonna realize that and hate him!” Robin exploded this time. Probably a little too late, Steve wondered if her parents were home. “Because of the fucking popsicle, of all the damn things!”

“The popsicle?” Steve asked in a tiny, dumbstruck, yet hopeful voice. “Why?”

“Because for most of the day you were flirting your ass off, but after that you avoided him all night,” Robin explained. “And now you’ve been dancing around each other without admitting you want him for weeks.”

“I only avoided him after that because I was so…” Steve paused to look for the right word, “affected by it.” 

“That’s what I told Nancy. And that’s what Nancy told Eddie. But I’m pretty sure he’s gonna have to hear it from you, dingus.”

Steve thought about that for what was probably too long to be considered a natural pause in the conversation, but Robin humored him and waited patiently while he digested all of it. It made sense, since Eddie pulled away after the pool party, and then seemed to be under the impression that Steve was afraid of him again until the closet incident. 

Goddamnit, Steve was such an idiot sometimes. 

“It felt like if we weren’t surrounded by people earlier—“ Steve trailed off, feeling his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth as he tried to push the words out. Robin poked him in the side and urged him on. “I don’t know. It felt like we might’ve kissed, if we were alone. Or if we were a boring straight couple.”

“See?” Robin immediately shifted from exasperated to bouncing with some kind of optimistic glee. “He’s into you. Clearly. He literally wants to eat you. Just do something about it.”

“Just do something about it,” Steve repeated it like a mantra. 

“Yes,” Robin agreed. “But do something about it tomorrow. Because we have to work the morning shift and we should go to bed. I washed your PJs from the last time you stayed over.”

“Aren’t your parents here?” Steve asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Oh sure,” Robin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I regularly scream about my friend the vampire and his sad little bisexual boyfriend for my parents to hear. Of course they’re not here, Steve. They’re out of town.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve held his hands up in retreat. “Just checking.”

Long after Robin had fallen asleep beside him, Steve laid awake with images of amber brown eyes and Ferris wheels turning in his head. When he finally drifted off, it was with a newfound sense of hope. 

I know I probably don’t have to point out that it’s unwise to do a shot of vodka, have a panic attack, and then drive, even if you do have a vampire to buy you a funnel cake and make you walk it off. But I’m pointing that out anyway. Anyway, next update is gonna be a double chapter. Take from that what you will!

[randomfoggytiger]

"He Had Parents Who Loved Him"

(Fictober, Day 17)

Today's prompts (curtesy of my younger sister~) are: pitch, hash browns, and nightmare.

Wherein I attempt to humanize Bill Mulder; who, I believe, was a decent father before Samantha's abduction.

*****

“Fox, did you ever play baseball with hash browns?”

If there was an award for having the dumbest little sister in all of the United States, Fox Mulder figured he would have won it by now. Maybe it just takes a while to get through the postage. 

The Mulder family was entrenched in various claimed places on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as the Red Sox progressively lost their newest game. Fox sat scrunched between his father and his sister, half-listening to his mother’s house slippers glide to and from the kitchen in her ever-increasing search for tasks that kept her away from the tv set. “I’ll never understand your father’s fathomless loyalty,” she'd said once, shaking her head as she mopped up her son’s latest spill, “He seems to like watching other people lose….” The implied too was left off; but it itched away at Fox's brain for years.  

“Fooooooooooooooooox--”

“Stop yelling over the game, Samantha,” their dad cut in, admonishing her over the top of his son’s head. When she continued to mumble and started to wriggle, he sighed and nudged Fox. “Move over, son. I’ve got a problem to solve.” 

Both kids were delighted: Samantha launched at her father while chanting “Solve me! Solve me!”, and Fox giddily slid over, delightedly hogging the whole end seat to himself. 

Mom's slippers glided in. “Solve what, dear?” she asked, distributing the latest round of drinks and calling her son’s attention to the straw in his glass. Message received: no more spills on the living room rug. 

“Daddy’s going to solve me!” 

Fox felt his mother’s hand, which had been wiping the ketchup off his cheek, flinch. But by the time he looked up nervously, she was smiling reproachfully at the others, more amused than anxious. He must have imagined it. 

“You two,” she chuckled, dodging her husband’s inviting hand as she passed, yet again, out of the room.  

“You have to solve me, Daddy!” Samantha chanted, thrilled with this new game. 

“Sam, we’re watching baseball, not talking about hash browns,” Fox snapped, annoyed that she was monopolizing everything. Again.

Their father was always gone-- on the road, on a plane, or just plain gone-- and Samantha knew this-- wanted to be a fairy for Halloween so she could use her magic wand to wish he'd stay forever and ever and ever-- and yet she was wasting important, precious time with her useless questions.

“Fox, settle down. We’ll keep it quiet.”

Which wasn’t the point. 

“No one plays baseball with hash browns, sweetheart, because it would be too messy. You know how carefully Fox and I clean our gloves? Our shoes? Our gear?” At each question, Samantha nodded furiously. “Well, if someone tossed a hash brown to home base at ninety miles an hour--”

“Nine-tee miles?” she whispered, amazed.

Fox snorted.  Of course ninety miles.

“Yes, ninety miles an hour-- then there’d be cooked potato everywhere: on the bat, on everyone’s shoes, on all the gear, and likely all over the stadium. And if Fox were playing, your mom would be in one of those stadium seats with us--”

“And she hates getting dirty, right, Daddy?” 

"That's right. And we wouldn't want her mad on your brother's big day, now would we?"

Beaming uncontrollably with the faith his father placed in him, Fox burst from his seat, practically yelling in his excitement. "I'll be the best ball player they've seen in fifty years, Dad! And everyone will be yelling 'MULDER! MULDER!'-- and all the loser pitchers and slow pokes will watch me run right by them, feeling like they're caught in a nightmare because they can't catch--"

"Fox!” His mother's slippers glided in for the sixth time that afternoon; and she surveyed, with appalled dignity, her son stomping enthusiastically, mid-narration, on the forgotten couch pillows dumped unceremoniously on the floor. “Just what is going on here?” 

“The Sox are losing, Teena,” Dad said, waving them both back to the couch. “Fox’s just giving 'em tips."

"Well, he can give them tips without making a ruckus about it. Now Fox, come sit back down and finish the game."

He didn't bother to remind everyone that all his adoring fans would be screaming Mulder-- not Fox-- while he hit home run after home run.

Yet.

But he really wanted to.

The rest of the game passed without much comment; but, as Fox soaked in the warmth of a Mulder family moment, he decided that-- maybe-- Samantha's silly little question hadn't been such a big deal, after all.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

[h4zardousch3micals]

Performance of a lifetime • 5

First • Previous • Next

You know what

I'm tired and that makes me wanna be nice

Tee hee :3

———

"You need to sort out your attitude." Fennec's words replayed over and over in Glaishur's head long after the Sox had left, "We're so close to the final performance, you only have a day left, and you're still not concentrating? Audrey would not be impressed."

Though it had been nothing more than a quiet whisper - Fennec's usual speaking volume - it still felt like a knife being pushed directly into the Cold Monster's heart. He was trying his best! Concentrating was just so difficult sometimes, why couldn't Fennec see that? Is focusing really that easy for everyone else? Maybe there's something wrong with him...

He lay on his back - staring at the red-yellow striped ceiling - for what felt like hours, mulling it over. Not even watching Galvana and Vhamp play some adorable game of pretend nearby could fully pry him away from his dejected thoughts, but it was a welcome distraction nonetheless.

"You good there, Glaish'?" A voice came from what appeared to be some kind of fort made of a blanket draped over some chairs, "You haven't moved for quite a while."

Glaishur flinched, but quickly calmed down when he realised who was speaking to him, "Oh, hey, 'Vigg. Yeah, I'm fine. What are you doing in— there?"

Loodvigg stuck their head out of the shadows and shrugged, "Honestly, I have no idea. Those two wanted me to be here for some game they're playing, and they get upset every time I try to leave."

"Oh. Pffft, kids, eh?" Glaishur joked, despite the fact that they were basically kids themselves.

"You can say that again."

Meanwhile, something in the two youngests' game seemed to change pace, and suddenly they were approaching the blanket fort as though they were expeditioners about to enter a dangerous cave. Vhamp took on the role of the more bold of the two - inching forward courageously - while Galvana trailed behind, holding up a (somewhat poorly made) cardboard star badge.

"Oh, I see where this is going..." Loodvigg chuckled, "Sherif Galvie and her trusty steed Vhamp were out wandering the desert when they encountered - A RUNAWAY TRAIN!"

He growled dramatically and flung himself forward; a blanket got caught on his skull and pushed his hair back into an awkward shape. Vhamp and Galvana squealed and bounced about like a pair of excited puppies. Loodvigg playfully roared and pretended to swipe at them - until the pair ganged up on him and bowled him to the ground.

Glaishur couldn't help but smile. Even if he still had a lot on his mind, seeing the normally bad-tempered Loodvigg stumble about with a stupid expression on his face was undeniably heartwarming.

"D'aww," Leyera commented as she wriggled past, a cardboard box gripped tightly in her tentacles.

Immediately, Loodvigg bolted upright and gently lowered the two kids to the ground. He folded his arms and huffed, trying and failing to seem disinterested, "Howdy, Leyera. I mean— Howdy, runaway train! Uh, I mean, Um, uh- nevermind."

Glaishur also sat up and glanced at her with a puzzled expression, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much, just coming through with some stuff." They muttered, disinterested. They were always a little dull, but now they seemed more exhausted than ever: a few bags had formed under their eye.

Loodvigg guessed, "Fennec dumping random tasks onto you again?"

"Bingo, kiddo." She nodded, curling a few of her limbs into her equivalent of finger guns.

"Wow," Glaishur exclaimed, "He must be really unhappy with you to be this passive agressive."

"He sure is. And to be honest, I kinda deserve it."

"Why don't you just tell him to knock it off?" Loodvigg asked, "If Scaratar can do it, you can too."

"Loodvigg! I just had this conversation with Attmoz the other day!" Glaishur hissed, appalled.

"What? I'm right, right?!" He protested. Galvana tugged on his arm, asking to join in the game of pretend again, but he gently nudged her away, "Not now, Galvie. Go back to playing with Vhamp, I'll be back in a little bit."

"Ugh, look, kiddo." Leyera just sighed, "I've sure as hell thought about it. But the consequences aren't worth it. It's different when one of you kids does it."

"Huh? But, that doesn't make any sense!" Glaishur uttered. It really didn't: Leyera's been here so much longer than them, and their psychic magic is much more useful to putting on a good show than their little elemental tricks! Why would they deserve such special treatment?

"It's because you're g—" Leyera slammed one of their forelimbs across where their mouth would be, "Nevermind. Just don't question it."

Before either of them could protest, they turned and began to wriggle away; a few angry words - too quiet to hear yet clearly bitter - escaping them. However, before they left the room, there came a sound. The quick, methodical thundering of a little pawsteps that rapidly got louder and louder until...

"HI, LEYERA!" A blue spider-like monster leapt forward, crashing into the spaghetti monster with a suprising amount of force.

"CRUV'LAAPHT'S EYES!" Leyera cried. She flopped to the ground with a mix of a 'thud' and a 'squelch'. The box she was carrying ended up flung to the side, it's contents (which turned out to be bunting, posters and a bundle of multicolored streamers) spilling out onto the floor, "Copper? What the hell?!"

"OOPS! SORRY!" They scuttled backwards.

"It's alright." She slowly pulled herself upright, adjusted her crooked collar and whispered 'no need to shout' under her breath', "What do you want, anyway? You only do that when you have something to show me."

"YES! EXACTLY THAT! I JUST HAD THE COOLEST IDEA EVER—OH, HEY, GUYS!" They cried, trailing off as they noticed the presence of other monsters. They waved at Loodvigg and Glaishur, who just stared on awkwardly.

"And what would that be? Can it wait?" Leyera asked, suspicious.

"NO - I NEED TO TELL YOU NOW! WELL, UM UM UM UM..." Copper hopped excitedly from foot to foot, trying to get their racing thoughts together, "I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT ALONE. I NEED A HAND!"

"From who?"

"Uh—" They took a deep breath and finally spoke in an inside voice. "Loodvigg, Glaishur, have either of you two seen Furnoss anywhere?"

They looked at eachother, and Loodvigg hesitantly muttered, "I think I saw him over by the obstacle course a little while ago?"

Glaishur nodded, confirming this.

"GREAT!" Copper scampered away again, leaving the other three monsters to just stand there in stunned silence. After about thirty seconds of uncomfortable nothingness, they finally returned. Furnoss shuffled awkwardly behind them, practically being dragged by the small magical monster.

"Uh, what did you need me for?" He asked, cringing at the way their three eyes glittered and bulged as they looked up at him. He glanced over at Loodvigg and Glaishur and mouthed a 'hello', but made no sound.

"I need a flame." They declared.

"Copper..." Leyera narrowed her eye, "You better not be doing something dumb."

"I'm not, I swear!"

Furnoss looked at the ground, his expression nervous, "I don't know, I'm still not good at controlling my powers."

"Please! Please! Please!" Copper made their eyes big and round, trying (and failing) to seem convincing.

Furnoss seemed to almost shrink beneath their gaze, "Uh, okay?"

"Great!" Their legs wiggled excitedly as they reached into a nearby crate and held out a red firework, "Now, you just need to light up this part and—"

"Are they seriously—" Glaishur began.

"They wouldn't—" Loodvigg added.

But before either of them could fully react, Leyera zipped forward and snatched up the potential hazard, "Copper! Oh, by the titans, Copper, what were you thinking? You can't light fireworks indoors!"

"..." They blinked, "Oh. Oops."

"Yeah, oops. I swear to the Colossals, it's like I have to take care of yet another annoying kid whenever you're around." She growled. With a flick of her tentacles, it floated up into the air an onto a shelf out of the Bulbo's reach.

Now out of the spotlight, Furnoss stepped back and slunk behind Loodvigg, as though trying to hide from the arguing.

"Are you okay?" The shadow monster asked.

"I think so..." He mumbled quietly. Unnerved, he curled in on himself; his arms wrapped around his body to hide the soft amber glow of the flames within.

"Hey! I'm sorry!" They grumbled, "It wasn't like that back home, I could get as close to fireworks as I wanted and it never hurt anybody!"

Leyera explained, "That's because Light Island fireworks are made of pure light instead of explosives, which is too expensive to use here."

They cringed again, "I know! You don't need to tell me! I know everything about fireworks! I just— Sometimes I forget in the moment. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again. And also stop bugging me so much, I've got stuff I need to be doing."

*I thought you liked it when I showed you cool stuff?"

"I do, but not when I'm so busy. I'm already on Fennec's bad side, and I don't wanna make things any worse." She picked up the box with her telekinesis and put the contents back into place, "Talk to me when we pack up and the island moves again, then I'll listen."

As Leyera slithered away, Copper slumped over and stared at the ground in shame, "Okay..."

Silence took over once again. Glaishur watched the blue spider monster sink dejectedly against the floor, and he couldn't help but empathise. They just wanted someone to listen to them - he sure knew what that felt like.

"Um, I'll listen to you talk about fireworks, if you want." He offered; extending a hand to help them up.

Loodvigg agreed, "Uh, yeah, me too."

Galvana and Vhamp momentarily stopped their little game to listen.

"Fff-irework!" Galvana tested out the word; she tried to wrap her head around the new combination of syllables.

Furnoss said nothing.

"Really?" Their eyes sprung forward and went huge - like a cat being offered a treat.Glaishur offered them a small smile, "Sure."

Copper slowly rose to their feet, their entire body shaking and making a few Güiro noises as they anxiously rubbed their limbs together, "Oh. My. Phosphora! This is amazing, I can't believe it I— Okay, Copper. Calm down, deep breaths—"

"So, uh." They looked around, fidgety and perplexed, "Where should I start?"

Everyone thought for a moment, then Loodvigg pointed to the firework on the shelf and suggested, "How about you explain how those things work?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" They squeaked, "Okay, so. Inside the shell, there's these things called stars. Which is silly, because they're not stars, but that's besides the point. Anyway, these are made of colourful chemicals and stuff to make it pretty. And, and then..."

Their long infodump gave Furnoss just enough time to slink away and think about what had happened.

[apexart-journal]

Sonia Paulino Love Outbound to Montevideo, Day 19

Wednesday: The day began with a morning meet-and-greet with Laura Rocha, Communications professor at Universidad Catholica with a Master's in Creative Writing for Film, TV, and Transmedia. She gave me a tour of common areas, we passed by Javier's desk to say hi, then sat for a chat in the cafeteria garden with our coffees. It was lovely. Topics of conversation included: modern methods of communication and subliminal propaganda, teaching in our digital age, TikTok and the kids'/students'/chiquilins' (chickadees'?) innate savvy with graphics and photography, mothers and nurturing, and the impact of documentary work.

It's another HOT one with MORE SUN. From the university, Valentina kindly drove me to Centro Educativo Los Tréboles which provides educational services to children and teens from disenfranchised neighborhoods. The teens were out on a field trip to the beach, so my 5 hours of volunteer work involved tending to forty or so 5-7 year olds. I helped guide them through a relay of water games, watched over them as they ran and played for what seemed like forever in a HOT, SUNNY field, helped serve them cups of fruit salad as a snack and, later, pre-dinner of rice cooked with mixed vegetables. There were some minor skirmishes, but the kids seemed otherwise well behaved. That is except for one kid acted out while we were in the meditative woodsy patch by proclaiming “La Virgen no existe!” and proceeded to slap the Virgin Mary sculpture in the face. I didn’t feel it was my place to discipline and, to be honest, thought it as amusing as it was appalling, but was relieved when the supervising staff member said “No! Why are you doing that?” and gently pulled him away. While waiting outside for some of their parents who were meeting about a 2-night camping trip they were going to go on, I suddenly had kids crawling all over me asking me how to say things in English like Papa Noel and papas fritas. Do people sing and dance where you are from?  Do you have an iPhone? I pulled out the apexart Motorola to show them where Montevideo and New York are on Google maps. Is that the water? Where is the sky? Did you fly on an airplane? One little boy had graying front teeth and Juan, the staff member who guided me, asked him if he was sure he was brushing everyday. “Si!”

Afterwards, Juan kindly drove me to the next activity, "La Voz del Cuerpo". It was a singing class heavy on theory and light on formal training. Myself and about ten other women sat in a circle on the floor and were encouraged to activate the potential of our own unique voices. Our first exercise was to follow an empowering a cappella everyone but me was familiar with called "Reverderser" by Perotá Chingó. For the final 30 minutes of a two hour course, we stood and sang two songs: The Beatles' "Let it Be", and Shakira's "Moscas en la Casa". It was a long day.

Thursday:  Some down time light schedule happy to be indoors

Zoom with Mvelo, apexart inbound fellow from South Africa. Our experiences are polar opposites. north/south fast/slow hot/cold

Therapist. We talk about the week. The heat wave has broken and the sun's beatings have made way for a heavy dose of humidity. Still HOT. I'm 90% sure I spot the truck and driver who hit me. It's the same day of the week but maybe 20 minutes later than the accident, on a different street, and they're making a left turn this time from the opposite direction. There is a different assistant in the passenger seat. The driver looks to be concentrating on his driving.

Gym workout feeling an endorphins boost peacocks in a park nearby.

Friday: Cooler weather! There's talk of rain.

Journaling

Meeting with Nia apexart program coordinator. We also talked about the week.

Quick just-in-case groceries get in gear for final week Out tomorrow and assuming busy Sunday Not sure what businesses will be open Mon-Tues on account of the 4-day weekend during Carnival that is also called Carnival

Journaling

Ramping up to go out tonight. The Llamadas Parade is said to be the highlight of Carnival and features candome drums drums drums! 

[redwineconversation]

Olympique Lyonnais - Ajax Postgame Thoughts

I hate losing almost as much as I hate the thought of Malard being a regular starter, so this game was not fun in any sense of the term.

Before I get to the cause of my stress and anxiety for the upcoming season (also known as Malard potentially playing 90 mins on a regular basis): what the fuck was up with the state of the pitch? I have never seen in look that horrible, and I've seen them play in torrential rain and the freezing cold. This looked like a pitch of a Division 3 team, not one on Lyon's home grounds. I'm really hoping that was addressed in the postgame interviews but I think OLPlay said those will only be up on Monday. It was absolutely appalling, especially in front of goal.

Speaking of goal, watching Endler today was an emotional rollercoaster. When Endler is on, she's a monster in goal, when she's off, you find yourself staring longingly at your anti-anxiety meds. We got to experience both today. There were nerves from Endler that I am honestly not used to seeing, especially in a relatively low stakes game. Ajax's first goal came off an Endler error when she tried to clear the ball (straight at an Ajax player?). There were other nervy clearances. It's honestly perplexing that she showed more emotional composure in the UWCL semifinal than she did in this game.

But once Lyon came to 1-1, Endler settled down a bit, and came up with some pretty big saves. That was the Endler I am used to seeing. There wasn't really anything she could have done on Ajax's second goal, so I'm giving her a pass on that. Regardless, those nerves have got to be addressed by the time the season actually starts, because as toothless as PSG is right now, I doubt they will be as forgiving as Ajax was.

I've ripped on the academy kids before and will continue to do so. I don't care how much potential you show in practice, the reality is as soon as you're against a pro team, you find yourself being bullied off the ball and making mistakes. Sombath, Marques and Mendy were good and I wouldn't be surprised if they make the bigger team sheets, but otherwise the rest should be but a distance bad memory by the time the big hitters are back.

If Lindsey Horan was a little rusty, Vanessa Gilles was not, and that could just be because Gilles has been back a little longer than Horan. Dabritz was in between the two: there was obvious rust, but you could tell she isn't far away from being back.

M'Bock is slowly coming back. I was a bit surprised when she came on as early as she did (approximately 20 mins remaining) if only because Bompastor had said she might get a "few" minutes depending on whether Lyon was controlling the game. Whilst I wouldn't say the game was out of Lyon's control, they weren't exactly in control either.

Malard is so bad that I will take an academy kid starting every game instead of her playing. As I said to someone privately, Lyon will be deliberately shooting themselves in the foot if they keep her rather than sending her out on loan. The more she finds herself in the starting lineup and playing all 90 minutes, the more it proves that her statistics in the 2021-2022 season was merely a result of being propped up by better players rather than actually being a star player.

Which leads me to what I really want to talk about: the one that got away Leuchter. Lyon had expressed interest in her after her performance at the Euros but Ajax had been unwilling to sell. I'm hoping that her performance today put her back on Lyon's radar, though I question again whether Ajax would be willing to sell especially with the UWCL qualifying rounds coming up. Never say never though I will say it's unlikely. She's an extremely good player, she's fun to watch, and she actually scores goals unlike Malard. Lord knows Lyon could use that.

Whilst I do absolutely hate losing, especially at home (though with the state of the pitch I guess I am allowed to pretend we were playing elsewhere), this loss isn't going to make me toss and turn too much. Ajax was basically at full strength plus or minus a couple of players and Lyon was playing with their low B / borderline C team.

Back in preseason 2021, Lyon got their ass absolutely handed to them by Bayern in a preseason game (Bayern was up 4-0 at HT before Renard scored a couple of goals to make the scoreline less embarrassing) and the 2021-2022 season wasn't a complete disaster. That being said Bompastor wasn't as obsessed with her youth academy experiment back then, so maybe it's not as good a premonition as I like to pretend it is.

Anyway, what did we learn from this game? Nothing that we already didn't know, really. Endler needs a stable defense in front of her to feel confident, @OL midfield feel like pure shit just want you back, @god can we please get our real forwards back ASAP. But we already knew all that.

[woozysloth]

TAMERS CARD GAME AU 4 - JENRYA

Jen doesn't really play the card game at the 'professional' or even semi-pro level anymore - which is weird, because last year (before he suddenly dropped out) he was on track to make the championship, if not win it.

Jenrya will say a few things, politely, to those who ask:

He wouldn't have won anyway, Ruki would have crushed him. Probably true.

He hasn't really kept up with the game, and would probably do badly. Both lies.

He doesn't want to compete this year. Mostly true.

He's not really a competitive person, after all.

That last one is...complicated. Jen is a competitive person, actually, beneath his very calm façade. Or at least he was. He doesn't want to be, not any more.

Last year, storming the local competitions, Jenrya was not exactly the friendliest looking face to have on the opposite of the field. He had a pretty ruthless streak in the games, and that weirdly emotive partner...well. It was practically inevitable that some kid, maybe a bit too young to be playing, was going to get upset.

Which might make a guy like Jen, ultimately a very nice boy at heart, feel guilty. And also that kid might have had an older sibling, who reacted badly to their bad reaction. And if that older kid were to come at Jen, who is perhaps even better at kenpō than at games, outside of the card game?

It's best to leave the fighting to the Digimon. But since fighting with Digimon led to...what it did, Jen swore off putting his cards and strategies on big scary holographic stages, or whatever actually goes on with that game.

But, Jen has played with his little sister. The actual game as well as talking to his cards with her. And he gets an awful lot more from these conversations than your average game of pretend. Then when Shuichon goes off to chase Culumon and they end up bumping into some kid with goggles and a weird obsession with his Digimon OC, it seems natural enough to help the guy out with his frankly appalling metagame.

Terriermon especially seems to enjoy watching Shuichon beat the kid at the game over and over. And Takato's actually really nice, if a bit of an oddball. So what's the harm?

As Jen inevitably falls back into direct competition, he finds himself struggling with his guilt about the way last year went down and his newly complicated feelings about what his dad seems weirdly keen to assure him are just bits of data attached to some foil. There's something strange at the heart of this game, isn't there?

Jen's only field Digimon, presently, are Terriermon and Lopmon - though he's willing to concede that Lopmon is more his sister's monster outside tournaments. They're small and smart, 'just like him', and they're great team players like he wants to be. They do well in most types of competitions, having particular advantages in armor and 'Xros Rules' competitions. (Jenrya, along with Ruki, is one of the few who 'gets' DigiXros matches.)

But his main advantage is that he's cool, calm and collected. It would take a lot to get him to freak out over a card game, even when he has such a fraught history with it. It's unlikely that things will ever get that intense again. And more intensity would be impossible. It's just a game.

It's just a game.

TERRIERMON & LOPMON

A matching pair, though personality wise their AI seem to have diverged in pretty different directions. Terriermon is, to put it bluntly, a wiseacre brat with a mean streak behind his cheery demeanour and unfairly cute face. Lopmon is quiet and reserved, and it seems strange that she gets along better with the younger sister than the more similar Jenrya.

(I tend to mix original and dub terms anyway, but I've basically made Lopmon 'she' because the pronouns are easier to keep track of that way)

But they work well together, coming into games with some pre-packaged combination attacks, but somehow their more frequent 'socialisation' compared to other field monsters seems to give them even more advantages than just that- even if it's just in 'small' ways, like Terriermon taunting their opponents into making stupid mistakes.

For all that Terriermon takes the lead, he tends to be 'subordinate' in their DigiXros forms, except when his Child level combines with one of Lopmon's Adult levels to form the adorable martial artist 'Terruiemon' - a Turuiemon with Terriermon's palette and penchant for spinning around.

In comparison, Lopmon's evolutions exert more control in these matches, such as Andiramon gaining spinning axe machine guns, or Wendigomon getting some pretty sweet cybernetic additions from Rapidmon.

It's more often Lopmon that Jen evolves in any type of match as well, at least at first. It's not like Terriermon's evolutions aren't just as viable, if not more depending on the situation.

Could this all be a sign that Jenrya has a strained relationship with a chip inside a thin card designed for a children's game?

Nah. That's ridiculous.

So why does it bother Jenrya so much?

That's the problem with being such an oddly philosophical tween - he never seems to run out of things to feel guilty and anxious about.

Maybe he really does need to take it easy. Playing a few friendly matches with some other kids might be just what he needs.

AN UNKNOWN RIVAL?

One of the more colourful characters in this year's tournament scene wears a truly wild costume to conceal his identity. There's a cape! He calls himself the 'next Digimon King' or 'Card Kaiser' or 'Emperor of Games' or something like that. He seems disdainful of pretty much everyone and everything, so it's hard to tell, but Jen could swear it seems like this kid has it out for him in particular.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Spy Kids: All the Time in the World (2011)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

The special effects have gotten better, which technically makes Spy Kids: All the Time in the World superior to Spy Kids 3D: Game Over. In terms of story, characters, plot, humor, action and imagination? This is miles below the promising debut we had in 2001. At home, you can’t watch it in 4D Aroma-scope "as it was intended” but I can’t imagine those scratch and sniff cards would’ve made any difference.

While stopping criminal Tick Tock (Jeremy Piven), OSS agent Marissa Wilson (Jessica Alba) goes into contractions. Her mission accomplished, she decides to call it quits and raise her new baby with her husband (Joel McHale). Soon after, Tick Tock escapes and with the help of a criminal mastermind named The Time Keeper, they begin disrupting time itself. Hours pass away like seconds. The villains' minions attack Marissa's homee, revealing to her step children (Rowan Blanchard as Rebecca and Mason Cook as Cecil) that their stepmother is a spy. With the help of their robotic dog Argonaut (Ricky Gervais), the kids set out to stop the villains.

Want to send your friends to the hospital? Play the “Spy Kids 4” drinking game. Whenever someone says “Time", “Clock”, “Hour”, “Minute” or “Second”, someone takes a shot. If those words are inside a crappy pun, take TWO shots. They’ll be suffering from alcohol poisoning in no time.

Say what you will about Alexa Vega and Daryl Sabara (who appear in brief cameos and I’m sad to say have not become better actors since the previous films) but they had a certain appeal and presence. Their replacements have neither. You don’t care about them. To be fair, the young performers didn’t have a chance. This script and story is appalling. The “smell-o-vision” employed is little more than an excuse to have green fart clouds fly around the screen and poopy diapers tossed at bad guys. It's so juvenile you'll be admit you sat through the film. Wait, that explains it. Who else would accept this shoddy a story but the smallest kids? The kind who will laugh at ANYTHING?

From the first scene, you know the movie’s going to be rough. Marissa is running around, chasing Tick Tock while 9 months pregnant. Does the OSS have no other agents? She practically gives birth while apprehending the villain and then later on, rather than find a sitter to take care of her baby, brings it with her to keep fighting crime! I know what you’re thinking. It’s a movie for kids, you’re not supposed to look too much into it but the movie itself points out how lousy a mother she is by risking her child’s life!

Part of this series’ appeal - part of any spy film’s appeal - are the gadgets. The arsenal of devices our heroes receive is pathetic, but they’re golden compared to their talking cybo-pooch. Ricky Gervais is NEVER funny, though I bet he’s laughing all the way to the bank with this phoned-in performance. His line delivery is lame and the special effects used to make the dog “talk” are embarassing.

There are a couple of twists along the way, most of which you’ll be able to decipher just by looking at the characters’ faces. And then, there's a glimmer of hope right at the end. When we learn the villain’s motivation for all this, it actually makes sense. We have a credible bad guy - FINALLY. Too bad that if you take a step back and think about the plot, you realize the whole thing would've gone the way it does even if the heroes hadn't interfered in his plan. They’re completely useless and the only reason it doesn’t seem that way is because the movie cheats its own time travel rules.

Spy Kids: All the Time in the World gets so much wrong it’s kind of fun to tear it apart but only after the fact. The non-stop flow of horrible jokes and repetitive dialogue makes it painful to sit through. By introducing such concepts as the “spy baby”, it seals the deal. This franchise is done. It’s completely run out of ideas - or at least you hope so. After this, no one would want to see another Spy Kids movie again. (2-D Version, September 25, 2020)

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (11/6/2024) Episode: Friendly Birthday Fun

Luigi and his family had been reminded that their lives were better together, and shortly afterwards they found themselves celebrating the friendships they’d made with others.

Luigi had recently grown closer to his family, and his relationships with his childhood friends were also changing as they grew.

First came Bruce’s birthday, and unfortunately, he turned out to be even more of a troublemaker as a teen. After his cake he snuck up on his two sensitive friends while they were playing pretend pirates and scared them so badly that they both started to cry.

“You’re the worst!” Elyse fumed as Bruce laughed. “Come on Skye, let’s go play on the swings away from this big bully.”

“Hey, don’t be like that” Bruce called, running after them. “How about we all go snorkeling? I promise I won’t scare you again!” He enjoyed messing with the others, but he’d play any game with them rather than be forced to spend his birthday hanging out with his parents and their adult friends!

He mostly played nicely the rest of the night, and the next evening he called to invite Skye to some sort of shady contest he’d learned about. The anxious young sim was smart enough to turn down his offer “Yeah, I don’t think my parents would like me doing something like that.”

“Your loss kid!” Bruce replied, “It sounds like it’s going to be epic, and because I’m not a little chicken, I guess I’ll just tell you how it went!”

Skye mentioned the odd invitation to his parents the next morning at breakfast, and his dad got quite upset.

“You did the right thing saying no and telling us. That doesn’t sound safe at all!” Once Skye left the table, Luigi asked Noemi to keep an eye on their son while he walked down the beach to see Beau. “I need to talk to him about that boy of his. I should have done it ages ago.”

His friend knew all about Bruce’s misadventure. “He said he was heading to a sleepover, but I caught him sneaking in this morning, beat all to dwam. I was yelling at him when I realized he was slurring his words and having trouble breathing. The clinic said he has a concussion and 2 broken ribs!”

“I’m sorry to hear that” Luigi replied, “I hope he feels better soon, and I’m sure glad Skye turned down his invitation to come along.”

Beau was appalled. “He tried to bring a child into whatever blood sport went on last night!? I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. He’s always been a bit of a wild child, but this is completely unacceptable. Breanne and I are going to ground him until he’s ready for college!”

Luigi didn’t have the heart to tell Beau about the other unkind behavior Skye had reported. His friend was clearly already dealing with enough, and childhood pranks were nothing next to whatever the young reprobate was into these days.

Bruce was still grounded when Elyse’s birthday came along, so it was just the younger kids at Isra’s place for the party.

Hers was a joint celebration with her younger twin siblings who were also aging up, but Elyse seemed to be hiding from the festivities. “I’m not really feeling much like celebrating, to be honest” she told Skye. “Grandpar Wren just died, and I miss them too much to have fun right now.”

“I’m so sorry.” Skye sympathized “I just lost my grandma too. I loved her a lot and it’s hard not being able to talk to her all the time like I used to.”

He gave his friend a big hug and the two young sims sat talking quietly waiting for it to be Elyse’s turn to blow out her candles and open gifts.

“This wasn’t how I hoped she’d spend her party” Isra told Noemi, watching the pair from a short distance away “but she seems happier talking to Skye than she has been all weekend. Talking to you about losing my par made a big difference, and I guess a close friend is a blessing at every age.”

Noemi gave Isra an understanding smile. “We’re just down the beach if you need anything. I just hope our babies can stay so close as Elyse heads into high school and her teenage years ahead of my boy. It’s a big change and I really could have used some good friends when I went through it.”

Not long after that Elyse blew out her candles and spun her way into teendom.

Skye’s closest friends were once again both moving on to a different age stage without him, but Elyse’s friendly hug gave him hope that she wouldn’t completely forget about him while he was patiently waiting to join them.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here