#and she wouldn't let us get the book of bill for the same reason

[the-gayestidiot]

Learned that my mother does not support literally any interest of mine that isn't Percy Jackson, this is so fucking fun/sarc

[big-ass-magnet]

Stosh snapped to attention. "Dis iz Mizz Agatha Clay, who smells verra nize, but tinks der Baron iz kippink uz like dose poncy useless Lackya." He thought for a moment. "Sir," he added. The general stared at Agatha through narrowed eyes. "She sees dot, does she?" He stared for another moment and then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Thank you, Stosh, I vill talk to her. Beck to hyu post."

-Agatha H and the Airship City, chapter 6

She sees that. Not, she thinks that.

Hundreds and hundreds of years of being Europa's boogeymen, being the hand picked army of the Heterodynes, and now they're just another one of the Baron's rescues. Still dangerous, still feared, but here because they have to be, not because they want to be.

I put both the book quote and the comic panel, because of the difference in Stosh's line:

"thinks the Baron is keeping us like [the] Lakya"

vs

"thinks we are like [the] Lakya"

Very similar, but the latter implies offense at the comparison with the Lakya themselves; while the former is focused on the comparison with the Lakya's situation.

On some level, I think the Jӓgers are aware that their situations are very similar, which is why Agatha's statement bothers Stosh so much. I don't think the Jӓgers and the Lakya would get along in any situation, for the same reason they don't get along with Boris, but I think they wouldn't loathe each other to the same degree.

[I wonder if the Lakya hate the Jӓgers because the Jӓgers started it, or if they see themselves in the Jӓgers, too. They were more powerful than you ever were, and yet this is what they are now and what they will be, forever. What does that mean for you? The Baron does say they are starting to get restless.]

But I think it's more subconcious for the average Jӓger (Jӓgers are more clever than they act, but not...super duper introspective, on the whole).

The generals on the other hand...

She sees that, does she?

The generals are very aware of their situation.

They never expected the Heterodynes to return! They never thought they would have to deal with this! They never thought they would have to look the Heterodyne in the face and have them know that the Jӓgers weren't strong enough.

From Khrizhan's perspective, the boss is (possibly) back and she has very quickly picked up on the situation, on how low you had to sink in the name of survival. Not to mention, she's a total unknown. Came out of nowhere. Is she like her father? Is she like the old Heterodynes?

Do you think the generals ever wondered, ever worried, that if Bill and Barry came back and saw Klaus had taken the Jӓger problem off their hands--Maybe the boys would have been just fine with that?

If this new Heterodyne doesn't know them, if this is her impression of them...is she going to want them? If she's like the old Heterodynes, would she want an army that isn't strong enough to defend itself, let alone her? If she's like her father, would she want an army of men who have done the things they've done?

He knows what she sees. What's she going to think?

[vitamin-zeeth]

OKAY!!

First question, how did Fig Kristen and Adaine find themselves in Fabian’s crew? Cuz I know Gorgug was a childhood friend and Riz just failed at robbing Bill Seacaster, but I wonder what Bill or Fabian saw in the other three

The Kalvaxus plot!! Since the bad kids are pirates, and they travel a lot, would it make more sense if the 7 maidens were from different nations and are getting taken to Solace for the ritual?

AELWYN. How is Aelwyn doing. She’s alone with her parents now, which is generally a bad thing cuz the Abernants suck. How did she get wrapped up with Penelope

Finally, are there people out looking for Kristen and Adaine? The church would probably search for their chosen, but the Abernants kinda hate their daughter. Buuuuut it would look bad if they didn’t at least appear like they were searching for her, right?

OK SOOOO I think fig Adaine and Kristen probably found themselves in the crew because they fucked something up. They like caused a massive explosion or something and it made a whole scene kinda like when Adaine stole a book from the library and then immediately had a panic attack but more destructive. Fig convinced Adaine to pull some sort of piratey stunt cause she thinks that's just what pirates do and it just spiralled out of control and Kristen sort of stumbled into it halfway through and immediately made the whole thing 10x worse but bill appreciated their complete reckless lack of forethought and also their clear magical ability and introduced them to the rest of the crew (I think this happened all like on the same day riz got added as well they basically got stuck in pirate detention together)

KALVAXUS!!! I think the deal would be that the whole plot with him takes place on leviathan instead of solace so instead of the prophecy being a king and queen crowned in solace one more it's a new pirate king being crowned. The Seven get picked because it's supposed to be maidens from across the lands of Spyre so they have to travel to figure out who had been kidnapping these important girls across the kingdoms (penny is from Solace, Zelda is from Leviathan, Katya is from highcourt, ostentatia is from the mountains of chaos, antiope is from the Baronies, Danielle is from sylvaire and Sam is from an underwater kingdom in the Celestine sea) and there's an attempt to kidnap adaine as well cause fallinel only half counts since its an island off spyre, so they don't NEED her for the ritual but it would make it more secure. Penelope is helping cause of the promise of power, she plans on being crowned pirate king (kalvaxus leaves her behind last minute and crowns himself)

Aelwyn is still living with the abernants in fallinel, Penelope went to her for help because she knew adaine had left and she could use this dishonour to convince Aelwyn there was a way to regain her family's status and reputation through helping kalvaxus. She spends a lot of time traveling and helping to kidnap the maidens with Penelope BUT she doesn't let the abernants know what she's doing. There is for sure evernant undertones (I think thats the ship name idk but ykwim).

There are definitely people looking for adaine and Kristen, more Kristen than adaine as I think the abernants would rather go the "our daughter was kidnapped/enchanted/etc" route than actually finding her, but aelwyn and Penelope and the others involved in the kvx plot are all looking out for her. The second they go into solace Kristen is for sure being searched for, it's a huge huge deal there and it's very hard to keep her from being found and taken back, but everywhere else it's pretty much fine. Anyone part of the helioic church would have heard for sure and the governments of the different nations would be aware but they wouldn't necessarily care so much, more along the lines of if they get arrested/brought in front of the government for any reason there's a chance they'll return her to the church so that the church owes them rather than people actively searching for her.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE QUESTIONS RAINE THIS WAS SO FUN TO TALK ABOUT!!!!!!

[darklingichor]

Spare, by Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex

Let's get the obvious out of the way

I'm from the US, I've never really followed the royal family much. Though I'm about a year older than Prince Harry, so I grew up knowing about Princess Diana. I always liked her, thought she did the world so much good with the short time she had on it, and was shocked at the tragedy when she died.

My perspective on the monarchy is that, as an institution, and as a concept, it is outdated, and (from what I understand) is a drain on the British people. But, I don't feel like I can opine on that very much considering that I don't know enough, and don't live with it as a presence in my contry.

It goes without saying that the royal family has a massive amout of privilege and money.

I know the old saying that money can't buy happiness, isn't really true. Money helps because most people would be happier if they didn't have to worry about how their bills, family, and needs were going to be taken care of.

Taking all of this into consideration, I can't be angry at the princes for the life they were born into. I can't say that if I were born into money and such, that I would simply give it all up for ideological reasons. It's easy to insist that I would be like Siddhartha, or that I would fight to make things fair. But I don't *know* that. Especially considering that there seem to be a maze of rules to navigate.

Am I envious that these guys never had to worry about how they were going to pay for college, or about student loans, or do the "Shit, rent is due, but I had to go to the doctor" shuffle? Yeah!

But the flipside if that is that I never had to worry about whether or not my friends or anyone I may have wanted to date would have to be "approved" of by a committee, lead by my grandma. I didn’t have to worry about everything I did being photographed. All because of shit I couldn't control. I'm not going to go into any money stuff here.

So, now that all of that is out there, onto the book.

It's an interesting read. I don't know what I was expecting when I started it, but I was hoping it wouldn't be a gossip filled expose, I always feel sort of grimy when something I am reading takes that kind if turn. For the most part, I don't feel like this book is like that, what it is, is the memoir of a person born into an impossible family business, dealing with grief and expectations. It's a very human story.

I know that one of my friends expects this book to be nothing but Prince Harry bad mouthing all the other royals, and I figure that a least some other people might expecting the same thing. You don't really get that either. There is a fair amount of tension between the brothers, as they grew older. Not surprising considering royal succession added to the typical big brother little brother dynamic. There were serious disagreements and at least one fight, but I never got the feeling that the reader was suppose to walk away thinking that Prince William was a bad person. The same can be said about hhis father. Later in the book there are some unflattering things reveled about Charles and Camilla, but to me, it felt less like malicious gossip, and more like hurt resignation at the way his father reacted to certain things.

There is a lot of sweet remembering about Queen Elizabeth. It's clear that Prince Harry loves his family, and this book was not meant to be a club to swing at them. The real villains of royal life is the press. US tabloids are bad, paparazzi in any country is simply a gathering of worms, but the British press always struck me as more predatory and cruel on the whole. I mean yeah, Prince Harry did some epically stupid stuff. He addresses these things. He was dumb, uninformed, and he deeply regrets them, but the press won't let it go. Worse, they pursued him even into a war zone, risking the life of him and the people he served with, and for what? No good reason at all.

It's baffling that people would risk life and limb, theirs and others, for a story. It's not like they were looking for a hard hitting story, either, just gossip, this all sounds familiar, right?

Diana and the press looms large. Diana is a huge presence in this book, and understandably so. Prince Harry didn't process his mother's death until he was well into adulthood, and part of it was because the protocol of the royal family not showing emotion. Between the press and the rules and regulations of being royalty, what I kept thinking all while listening to this book was: They aren't allowed to be human. Then you add in the age old tradition of palace intrigue, with a modern twist (fewer daggers and poisonings, more newspapers) and each member of the family acting like an entity unto themselves, I can totally understand the decision to step back from royal duty.

Amid all of this very heavy subject matter, there are some very interesting stories where he was happy. His love of nature in general and Africa in particular lead to many loving descriptions of land, animals, and people.

As nasty as war is, his telling of his time in the military made it very clear he found what he was meant for when he joined the army. He doesn't sugar coat it, and he isn't gleeful about the horrors of war, but he found a place and work that he fit into. It is of little surprise that he chooses to fight for the people and animals of Africa, as well as the for wounded veterans.

And there are funny stories, in most of them, he us laughing at himself.

Guess I have to say something about Megan Markle. I honestly know very little about the Dutchess other than she's married to Prince Harry and she use to be an actress. She seems cool, It is clear that he is goofy in love and its nice to read about a happy loving relationship, after all the drama that surrounded his parents' marriage.

It's well written. The audiobook is read by Prince Harry, and he does a good job.

I'm glad I read it.

[modelsarecrazyclothing]

if you dont interact with your favorite model's tik toks or IG stories or IG post or podcast videos so she can screenshot and tell her models, actresses, vloggers, lady singers, commercial writers, lady comedians and tik tokers "fake friends" in her group chat so they use it for ideas and views without PAYING YOU EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE LOTS OF MONEY in their accounts, @ing you for credit or just so they can have something to talk about without following you. plus they're paying to put an instagram activity subscription service on the models are crazy clothing IG because they're addicted to not minding their business even though they reach their goals already and have fan bases. your favorite model won't do her part and be there for you, your ideas, bills and companies by stop screenshoting us supporting her and sending it to the groupchat. it's exhausting to deal with when you remember millions of other ladies including those who support our ideas and future, wouldn't do that. they are actually caring and thoughtful. your favorite model just gets remorseful, peaceful and sad for a week or 2. which keeps bringing you back because of her iconic beauty.

models tweeting while angry will forget remorseful, peaceful and sad her to feel like she got a win. at "models are crazy clothing brand" one of our creatives is experiencing that when over 10 of her "friends" have a crush on him. even though it's clear which model "models are crazy clothing brand" want to make happy, be there for and support whatever dream she has for her life.

one of our creatives asked our favorite model to make decision and communicate yes or no like millions of other single ladies do or have done. a creative for "models are crazy clothing brand" and two40 e productions asked after being each other valentine's in 2023, spring 2022 and summer 2022. so two40 e productions can can make the best move for us. the lack of a yes or no yet but more tik tok vids, tweets, following people who are not our creative or "models are crazy clothing brand", youtube vids, and IG stories about one of our creative without trying to communicate like 80% of ladies in the dating scene eventually birth the "model are crazy clothing brand" idea but are these original and creative ideas what's best for us or should we just work on castings, comedy and scripts instead.

our favorite model who we care about and support whatever dream she has for her life. only thinks about herself in that 48 hours and who she's gonna interact with her IG, tik tok. twitter and youtube next week or enjoys attention so much she is letting commercial writers and comedians who never talked to her before 2022 or book her for acting jobs use her, her singer and model close friends to cyberstalk, invade privacy and steal intellectual property to create commercials, scenes, paid ads or movies that we could of created or been hired on. costing her and "two40 e productions" opportunities along with over thousands of dollars yearly for bills and other needs also helped birth the "model are crazy clothing brand" idea. we had multiple reasons, we wish we had none and could create other ideas. if models would just communicate directly to us why they do the things we mentioned above so we could confirm who will be our event or wedding or award show date.

models will say "i love wearing half broken things whatever it's still pretty" instead of trying to think long term on how this non stop group chatting could effect us in 2027 or just give someone with lot of options including her "friends" a yes or no. if she says yes one of our creatives would be with the prettiest girl on earth in the dating scene but if she says no she'll have to watch someone who isn't her but with the same amount of credits or more being with her old valentine, her old supporter or even finally leave the groupchats cause the odds are they will try to contact more of our creatives tik tok following and snapchat following they are obsessed and won't tell us what they want so they can stop cyberstalking, invading privacy, harassing, stealing intellectual property and go back to living their life like 2017, 2018, and 2019 without knowing or caring we exist.

at "models are crazy clothing" our creatives are not a romanticizers just people who want a wife like people have had for over 300 years including the people they went to high school and college have. she won't give a creative, script writer or actor an opportunity to lift his future wife vail at the wedding if she doesn't want it to be her.

our favorite model just uses her beauty to get you to come back when you try to distance yourself due to her lack of deleting her angry in that 48 hours tik tok vids, tweets, IG stories and unfollowing people she followed out of anger and isn't related too, plus wasn't following last month or on valentine's day 2023 just want our creative to react for her models, actresses, vloggers, lady singers, commercial writer, lady comedians and tik tokers "fake friends" in her group chat so they can use it for ideas and views without paying us so we can pay our bills which is wrong way to treat people. that behavior coming from the "our insecurities turned us into hypocrites and we take it out on strangers online but check twitter we never do anything wrong if you don't count cyberstalking and invading strangers privacy weekly without paying groupchat" or just so they can have something to talk about without following us. when again they should go back to living their life like 2017, 2018, and 2019 without knowing or caring we exist.

without knowing or caring we exist is how millions of other people in the U.S. treat "models are crazy clothing brand" and two40 e productions creatives everyday. it helps all of us create, network and grow in our careers in peace without seeing other people copying our dope ideas. which is another example of our favorite model not thinking long term about how this non stop group chatting for attention from her "friends" we mentioned earlier is going to effect our companies, the bills or us in 2027 when she's already beautiful that should be enough attention.

most ladies are focusing on their goals not attention why doesn't our favorite model or just communicate a yes or no when over 10 of her "friends" have a crush on him and other ladies do too. who wants to be angry about a lady they do so much for and sacrifice for because they want her to be great while she just seeks attention from someone focused on their creating and goals. our creatives our normal people with responsibilities who don't want to be groupchatted again next week, and the week after and the week after that without a yes or no. when they can be talking to a future wife improving in sports or life or just creating ideas and laughing with her

[patricia-von-arundel]

They're updating them because of "offensive" content. Which... any kid old enough to read Dahl is going to understand some of the content isn't "nice." That's kind of the damn point of a lot of Dahl, and also one reason why kids like his stuff so much. It's dark and nasty and often very satisfying for kids because not only do the characters get to have cool adventures they ultimately triumph in, there's also weird, funny, borderline-offensive material. Louis Sachar, Jerry Spinelli, Mark Twain did/do the same kind of thing, and kids eat it up. (And all three frequently wind up on banned books lists. Shocking...) The weird new kid is actually a dead rat in multiple layers of stinky clothing! Maniac Magee is basically a children's version of Forrest Gump (or maybe Forrest Gump is an adult version of Maniac Magee). Tom Sawyer spends 75% of his eponymous book getting up to all sorts of hijinks and trouble. Huck Finn, Too. And hand an older kid a copy of The Diaries of Adam and Eve and see how they react.

"I advised her to keep away from the tree. She said she wouldn't. I foresee trouble." 🤣

But, of course, it's offensive, so kids shouldn't ever be faced with it, lest they believe it's the real deal. Because children are stupid, and need help to realize it isn't the mid-1800s and they aren't going to have adventures with a slave going down a river, there are no dead rats or ice cream flavored like their classmates, and they probably would not be pseudo-adopted by a groundskeeper if they tried to sleep in a zoo. 🤷‍♀️

Yes, Dahl had some seriously nasty stereotyping going on in some books, and used some of it as part of the humor (the appearance of the aunts in James and the Giant Peach, one fat and one thin, comes to mind). But like Twain, he was a product of the time and acceptability of when he wrote. Changing the text isn't going to magically fix all the problems of the mid-twentieth century, denying children copies of stories like Huckleberry Finn and Maniac Magee isn't going to mean kids never experience racism (and both are clearly setting up scenarios where characters inclined to racial stereotypes begin to work past them!). The n-word is in Huck Finn because it was seen as a mean, nasty, but acceptable, common nomenclature at the time. Denying kids access to such things just implies they aren't smart enough to understand things were different once.

And trust me, they already know that. 🤣

We don't know if Dahl (or Twain) would write differently if they lived in 2020s America. We never will, short of Bill and Ted showing up with them to pass their history project.

Someone I was speaking to on Twitter made an apt comparison: offensive content in some Dr. Seuss cartoons versus offensive content in Dahl's books. Most kids who like Dr. Seuss are too young to grasp some of the racism (in language and pictures) and understand why it's not acceptable. Because the average age of Dr. Seuss "readers" is about two and a half! They also can't yet tie their own shoes, eat broccoli without drama, or understand that little Billy should sometimes get the red crayon too. But rather than changing those things that are offensive, don't expose the two-year-olds to them! Let them have Green Eggs and Ham or One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.

But it's different for kids old enough to read Dahl or Spinelli or Twain. Those kids are likely to be seven- or eight-ish, at the earliest, and by that age, kids already understand some things in stories or movies are not appropriate behavior to emulate! They know it's not nice to make fun of how people look, or use the n-word, or judge people based on the color of their skin. And they're old enough to ask, if they're not sure. It's common for (older) kids assigned books like Huckleberry Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird, or The Diary of Anne Frank to then have classroom discussions of the context of the time, the language used, etc. Have the same conversation if as a class you read Matilda or James and the Giant Peach or The Witches!

And also, remember that Dahl also wrote this:

A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.

Everyone is a product of their time. So is their language, and in some cases, the choices they make. But hiding the past doesn't mean it never happened.

And kids are not so stupid that they think, after reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, that all fat kids are gluttons. That is not what they're going to take away after reading it. Give them some fucking credit!

And quit trying to sanitize the past. Bowdlerism is a good way to make yourself look utterly ridiculous. 😆

If you want to help a writer remove nasty stereotypes from their books, JK Rowling is right there! Right there!

I also remember when they tried to remove the old illustrations from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Needless to say, the uproar was enough to change minds. 🤷‍♀️

Boo:

Just for the record, I sent my kiddo the "updated" Dahl quotes.

The response I got was "??? 😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆 ok"

[i-got-the-feels]

Things I don't see enough people talking about and can’t stop talking about in The Punisher S1:

Battling Mental illness :

• "Perspective is good. But the answers have to be your own" by Curtis to Lewis, saying that therapy and books and others can help you and guide you better to listen to your own voice, thoughts and emotions but ultimately you have to listen and face your inner-self.

•"You've been in a hole so long that its became home"

"Maybe that's where I am supposed to be"

Again by Curtis. And it is such a beautiful and deep quote about struggles with mental illness - not just PTSD but any mental illness. When you are battling illness you realise that your mental illness is a huge part of your identity and you begin to wonder if that's all you are. Finding out what other things you are besides your mental illness is where the second battle/journey of recovery begins.

•On Survivor's guilt

"And now you are wondering what right you have to be alive. You can't answer that question. but it's normal to ask it" by Madani's mom to Madani after Sam's death.

Frank Castle and David Liberman:

•They are two sides of the same coin. Both of their families were harmed because of their jobs. Only difference Liberman knew it, Frank didn't. Not until it was too late. And while Liberman can do something about it, Frank can't and Curtis called out Liberman for dragging Frank back into this again, in spite of knowing there is nothing good Frank can gain down the road.

•Frank saying THIS to Liberman to ask him who he is and why he is seeking Frank

"Mind needs routine, craves it. Pain isn't torture, you can develop tolerance for it. Time is. Knowing your life is near its end. You and I got time, Liberman" because they are essentially two dead men chasing the ghost of their past, one hoping it would make a difference to their future (Liberman) and other who doesn't know how to live in present or move on to future without banishing the ghosts of his past (Castle)

•Frank saying if Liberman wants to go to his family he has to get his hands dirty and he isn't "some guy" he can call to repair his life like he used to repair his sink in the past.

•Frank saying Liberman left his family, played possum, went under and giving Liberman shit for it but later telling Karen that he kept his family safe shows how Frank blames himself and says they would still be alive if it weren't for him.

Frank Castle and Karen Page:

•How Karen hopes Frank will stop chasing his Past

"When I see you, all i see is endless echoing loneliness"and when he denies she responds with," That is goddamn bullhshit. Everyone in this world is Fighting not to be alone. I want there to be an after for you"

•And if he is chasing his past, she wants it to be in a way the people accountable are punished by the truth and not painted as martrys because that is what they would become if Frank killed them.

Frank and Billy Russo (before the truth was out)

• Frank about Russo to Liberman

"I was a father, husband and a marine. I loved it. Billy russo is my family"

"I had two families, Maria and kids and my unit. I got his back. He got mine"

•Billy Russo defending Frank Castle to Dinah Madani.

"Stay long enough in war and you will get dirty unless you have a good thing to hold on to Frank's got taken away. The system failed Frank in a big way"

•Billy saying - "your family is gone but you are still my brother" and offering him the chance to run away.

Billy Russo and Frank Castle (after the truth was out)

•"I think that maybe the only reason you want Frank dead was so that you could pretend he could never make you feel like a man about to die" Billy Russo to Rawlins.

•"I made a promise" when Rawlins continues to torture Castle when he stops him from shooting him and doesn't let him have an easy death.

•"Did you pull a bullet in wife? On my son? My baby girl?"

"If i was there, I wouldn't have missed. But i said I'd not be a part of it"

"But you knew about it, Bill? You knew about it?"

"Yeah, I knew"

The conversation crushed me because you could hear the hope in Frank's voice that maybe he didn't know and didn't ignore it.

Billy Russo and his beliefs

•"Its was always about , clothes and cars and women with you"

"Its what those things represent. What I see when i look in the mirror" paired with this shot cannot be a coincidence

•And when Billy says this as to what he sees when he looks at Frank, "Lost his family. Lost his faith. About to loose his life" and Frank replies "You are wrong bill.You already lost. You lost your honor" but Billy doesn't think that.

To him, what Frank and we see are excuses are legit reasons of his survival and living and his conviction was showed in instances like what he said to Madani when he shot Frank in front of her, "It was war, Dinah. The only crime in war is to loose", when he said this to Curtis, "Drugs? Someone else would bring them. Killed Afghans? They kill each other." and telling Curtis "Call yourself an ambulance and go to the hospital. My word means something too" paralleling to what Frank said at the beginning of the call.

Dinah Madani and David Liberman:

•"And then you want justice coz you haven't figured out there is no such thing yet" and then "This is your justice?" with him pointing to beaten up and tortured Frank.

Dinah Madani, Billy Russo and Frank Castle:

•The first confrontation scene that Billy and Madani have in Homeland office

"I know you must be haunted by the death of your partner/s but it doesn't make me the guy you are looking for"

"I am looking for frank castle and maybe I'll take my time to do so. Remember how he looked at you in the stair well. You know he js gonna kill you and enjoy doing it. Who knows maybe he received at tipoff and is waiting outside this building. Nice suit, hope its bullet proof"

•To her later in hospital after being shot in the head

"I hope he remembers. So that when he sees me standing he knows the role I played in all of this"

echoing what Frank said as he dragged and crushed Billy's face on the glass, "Now you will live and remember"

On the flawed military system and Lewis being the face of it in the show- in the most obvious manner:

I say obvious because Frank, Liberman, Russo and Rawlins cannot be isolated from the military but their conflict focuses more on the moral choices these characters made in the military context, as being part of the system. Whereas with Lewis, he had no agency to make choice, the system made the choice for him.

"He is loyal to this country, flag, unit and corrupt officers like him take advantage of that."

Frank said this about a soldier in Benett's place when they gone there to hack his cellphone but this show's Lewis's anger, betrayal and hurt completely.

How he had to lie and hide truth about enemy soldiers killing when it was friendly fire, how he feels he is still in war but has no physical proof of it and hence the entire service feels like like a huge lie (when he said to Curt - "you got this in war" and Curtis calls him out and says"I didn't get anything. I lost my leg"), how he sees the country he thought he was defending wasn't even sure if it is worth defending.

On Gun Control

•Gun control is not about certain guns away from all people. But all guns away from certain people - Senator Ori.

•Lets not blame the tool. Lets manage the owners- Senator Ori.

Who is he - Frank Castle or The Punisher

•"Where is home frank?"

"Is it here or there (the battlefield)?"

"Its here. With you. You know that."

"No. I don't know that." before he says he won't go on another tour

• cut to the present with Frank with his bloodied hands leaving the vision Maria saying "This is my home" to say this is who he is now. His present.

The Mirror:

•From Curtis in Episode 1 saying this "Everybody wants to be somebody else. No one is happy to look in the mirror at themselves and see themselves and that means they don't have to be responsible either"

to

•Frank in Episode 13 saying this "If you are gonna look at yourself, really look at yourself in the mirror, you gotta admit who you are but not just to yourself. You gotta admit to everybody else"

Frank Castle, the fighter with Kids:

•Frankie - "marine scares the bad guys, daddy. When you are not here, its my job to protect the girls"

•"Frank is a lot scarier than Pete" "Yeah, he is"

Because Frank is still a fighter, be it as Frank Castle the fighter as a soldier or as The Punisher, a vigilante.

But mans always fights for what he believes to be right with complete honesty and withiut hiding.

Season 2

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (4) - richie tozier

some sexy stuff, swearing, angst, the usual. i don't know how many more parts there are going to be but if 5 is the last one then prepare for a Big Boy™

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee

----

the divorce was messy. timothy took pretty much everything on the grounds that you had run off with another man (which you thought was pretty fair) and he also had slandered your name in front of your whole family in court, which was actually quite petty of him. richie almost murdered him, that day, and had to keep his hand in yours so that he wouldn't get up and break timothy's nose again right in front of his big-shot lawyer.

your family, it was safe to say, did not approve of richie, because timothy was always such a nice boy, and you've made a terrible mistake, dear. the only one who ever did like richie was your grandmother, and she was long gone, bless her cotton socks.

so, yeah, you'd run off with richie.

yeah, you'd escaped from an unhappy marriage in which you never felt loved to be with someone who looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.

okay, granted, you did sleep with richie that night, which wasn't entirely moral, considering you were married to another man, but, yknow, timothy hadn't gone anywhere near you in months and months, and richie was just so good at the sex thing.

also, you loved him. so much.

leaving you with barely enough money to pay your hospital bills sucked. you weren't even sure how timothy was able to do that legally.

but it was alright. you took your stuff and moved into richie's penthouse apartment in malibu almost as soon as you'd been discharged from the hospital. he had made enough money over the first half of his trash-mouth tour to support the both of you for the time being, and he cancelled the reno dates, and all the dates for the foreseeable, because all he wanted to do was be around you and the rest of the losers.

your books and mugs and weird stuff that you'd hoarded over the years slowly spread themselves around richie's apartment, and it made him so happy because it was so utterly domestic.

whenever he saw your shoes in the hallway or your toothbrush in the weird ceramic holder with a bee on it that bev had bought him, he grinned like a stupid, lovestruck idiot, because he was a stupid, lovestruck idiot.

eddie came over a lot, regularly crashing in the spare bedroom because he, too was going through a divorce, and myra kaspbrak was quite a bit more intimidating than timothy. so, that became eddie's room while he was looking for his own apartment.

and you were so fucking happy.

the piece of string that had been serving as your engagement ring after richie proposing on a whim was a constant reminder of how loved you were, and you tied a matching one around his finger, because you didn't feel it was fair that he got to do the whole cute proposal thing.

it had been six months since derry. since the sewers, since defeating IT for the final time. since reuniting with your soulmate. you were sure that life couldn't get better.

eventually, you'd gotten an actual ring.

richie had given it to you on a whim, as usual, opening the little ring box in your direction while you were both surrounded by chinese food, the fourth consecutive episode of snapped playing in the background.

you had choked on your wok-fried garlic and soy broccoli, and he'd thumped your back so you wouldn't almost die, again, which hurt your recovering shoulder, and then he had panicked, and you were crying and laughing and choking all at the same time.

point is, he had given you a ring.

it was a thin, gold band with three little diamonds set into the middle, and you had immediately fallen in love with it.

you hadn't, however, wanted to take off the piece of string, so you wore it on the same finger as the proper engagement ring. richie was relieved because he also hadn't wanted to take the string off.

that night, after some really really great celebration sex, (albeit a little careful, as you sometimes got sharp pains up and down your ribs if you exerted yourself too much) richie bared his soul to you.

he told you everything.

and he cried, and he trembled because he was so scared of ending things with you before they had even begun.

it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

"i'm bisexual."

and he had let out a breath, then. a breath that he had been holding in for almost three decades.

"oh, richie." and you held him to you without a second thought.

you had always known, somehow.

you'd known, for the same reason one knows the sun has risen. because you had eyes.

you'd seen how richie had always gravitated towards eddie, always grabbing onto him in moments of distress, the soft looks richie would give him when he didn't have time to put up his walls. you knew, and you loved him all the same. of course you did.

you didn't tell him, however, that you had known.

because this moment was so important. the moment where he finally had control over his life and his identity and he was spilling his heart out to you. you would not take that away from him.

this was his time. his moment. his life.

he told you about eddie, and the arcade, and the kissing bridge, and how he'd always, always pushed it down but now it was only the two of you, and if he was to marry you, he wanted everything out in the open.

and god damn you if you let him keep hating himself.

"richie, thankyou for telling me. im so happy that you... that you felt you could talk about it. and to me."

"so... you're not..."

"angry? no. honey, this is who you are. what kind of partner would i be if i didn't love you for who you are? you're perfect, richie."

he cried again, and you let him, because he fucking needed it.

----

richie's nightmares were bad.

really, really fucking bad.

he didn't have them as much as beverly said she had, because, while he had been caught in the deadlights, It was dead and couldn't push into his mind any further. he often couldn't remember what they were about, only that he woke up so scared he would cry. the deadlight-induced terrors came and went, but they always caught both of you off guard.

when it first happened, you were more than a little bit confused, because richie was not a restless sleeper.

you woke to quiet whimpers coming from the man sleeping beside you as he writhed under the bedlinen.

in your sleep-addled haze, it took you a minute to understand what was happening, wiping the sleep from your eyes and adjusting to the darkness.

what, moments ago, was little more than disturbed whimpers, was now loud, heart-fucking-wrenching sobs, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

his body shook next to yours and you were beginning to panic, reaching for him.

"richie? baby, wake up." you shook him lightly, noting the sweat practically dripping from him, and his face, scrunched in fear. he whined lowly, jerking in the bed, but he did not wake. you hadn't been faced with such a situation before, especially not with him, so this was touch and go.

this had never happened before and you were absolutely shitting bricks.

you shook him again, and he jolted awake, crying out as he sat up with a start.

"richie?"

his eyes snapped open, searching wildly around the room for something that wasn't there.

the only light came from the moon and city lights outside your house. sobs of pain overtook him, great, heaving breaths, and then the man you were in love with was crying his fucking eyes out in front of you; fisting his hands in his sweat-soaked hair as his whole body shuddered.

they were tremors he had no control over, the aftershocks of the nightmare taking control of him.

it broke your heart. your face softened as you reached for him again.

god, he held on to you so tight that you almost started crying yourself.

"eddie..." he choked. "ben didn't warn him in time. and i-i-i couldn't... fuck-"

"eddie is at home." you murmured, pressing your lips to his sweat-slick forehead "a ten minute drive. he just moved in. we can go up to see him tomorrow, if you want."

"It's... It's in my head." richie sobbed. the front of your shirt was soaked through with tears. "It's still in my head."

"It's dead, richie."

"so why can i still feel it?"

and you didn't know what to tell him.

---

your first fight, needless to say, sucked.

you didn't even remember what you were fighting about, only that you screamed at each other a lot, and there were tears, and it ended with richie, head in his hands, asking you to leave him alone for a minute in a voice so uncharacteristically calm that it scared you. and so you left for the bedroom, shutting the door, your head swimming and chest burning from the sobs you'd been caging in there.

you knew, realistically, that this was just one fight, and you'd be back to normal within the hour, but this was the first fight you'd had since you were kids, and god only knows how hot headed you'd gotten in the 27 years since then. both of you.

and you hated yourself for letting it get this far and making him not want to be around you.

it was times like this, when richie's nightmares were at their worst and you woke up every night like fucking clockwork to make sure he was real and still there and still breathing, and eddie came round constantly because he couldn't stand being alone in a new place, it was times like this that you needed to be close. so while it was just a dumb fight, you allowed yourself to cry.

richie clicked open the door about half an hour later, shuffling into the room. his eyes were red and he was probably shaking a little bit, you thought.

"im sorry." his voice came out small, and you sat up from the bed immediately.

"no, im sorry, rich. i was overreacting and it was fucking stupid and we need to just-"

and richie all but staggered forwards, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, hard. you gasped, and he used the opportunity to gain access to the inside of your mouth. cheeky bastard.

you both had been crying for a while, so the kiss was rather wet, but you overlooked it on account of the fact that his hand was not-so-discreetly sliding up your shirt and fumbling at your bra clasp. as suave as he liked to think he was, his bra skills needed work. he eventually did it, and seemed more than a little bit proud of himself, muttering a triumphant: "fuck yeah."

you tugged richie's bottom lip between your teeth and he fucking groaned. and that noise coming from his mouth was so fucking hot that your knees almost buckled.

you made a mental note to do the sex thing really really well tonight, because the sex thing was definitely happening and it had been a bad night for the both of you and you fucking needed him, right the fuck now.

it wasn't long before you ended up underneath him, and he was pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and you were breathing hard and you honestly thought that if he didn't get the fuck on with it you'd probably die right there.

"rich- ahh- richie?"

"yes, baby?"

god, how the fuck was he so smug all the time?

"i think you should- fuck, oh my god- probably get on with things right the the fuck now, or i'll have to... i'll-" you curled your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching across his scalp.

"or?" he hummed, continuing his ministrations everywhere except where you wanted them.

"i'll have to, mmmh, hurt you, actually." you whispered, breathless. you were unable to form a solid argument, what with richie fucking tozier being so sexy and all, teasing the shit out of you.

"you will?" richie put a hand on each of your legs and spread them further apart, his lips relentless, sucking and biting your sensitive flesh. this man was going to fucking kill you, god.

"yeah, yeah, i'll- ahh- bite your fucking face off, or something-"

and then he was between your thighs, right fucking there, so he never did find out what that something actually was, because whatever came out of your mouth after that wasn't decipherable.

---

"we shouldn't fight." richie murmured, as if he was afraid of being too loud in case he broke the moment.

you traced gentle patterns on his chest with your fingertips.

"i know." you said, equally as cautious.

"but i don't even remember what we were fighting about, and we just had several rounds of the apology." he laughed quietly, kissing your bare shoulder.

smirking at the hickeys on your collarbone, he pressed a kiss there, too, admiring his handiwork.

"i love you, fuck face." you yawned, your eyes fluttering shut.

"yeah, and i love you, dickweed."

richie stared fondly at the piece of string around his ring finger. you would be alright. after all, your wedding was coming up.

he had no nightmares that night.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• PROLOGUE •

WARNINGS: if you haven't seen the movie or read the book and maybe this is somehow you're first encounter with this series, this is a very graphic story and I will not be shying away from the gore as much as I want to. You really can't interact with this series without it so again, if you are unaware somehow and/or you are squeamish around graphic descriptions of violence this book is not for you. Thank you.

- October 1988 -

��    Gray skies and a thick layer of storm clouds blanket the town of Derry, Maine. Bill Denbrough sits in bed, he was tearing out a piece of paper from his sketchbook. His mother is downstairs on the piano, playing Für Elise. A song that would haunt him for the rest of his life. That song was playing the day Georgie died, he would think. Georgie, Bill's younger brother was at the window.

     He had fogged up the glass with his breath, and he drew a large smiley face on the glass, just before it disappeared. He turned over his shoulder to look at his brother, who was folding a paper boat for him.

     "You sure I won't get in trouble, Bill?"

     "Don't be a w-wuss." Bill replied.

     Bill had always had a stutter, and everyone who knew him was used to it. When he was three, he had been hit by a car and knocked into a building, and he remained unconscious for seven hours. This accident, his mother had said, caused the stutter. His stutter was light but it got worse after Georgie disappeared.

     "I'd come with you if I weren't," he stopped abruptly and coughed forcefully into his hand. "dying."

     Georgie stood from the window and walked over to his brother, sighing. "You're not dying!"

     He hated that his brother joked about stuff like that, he'd hate it if something really happened to him.

     "You didn't see the v-v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?" He asked incredulously.

     Georgie cringed. "That's disgusting."

     Bill looked down at the finished paper boat. "Okay. Go get the wax."

     Georgie became uneasy. He shifted on his feet. "In the cellar?"

     Georgie was terrified of the cellar. He always imagined dangers of the unimaginable lurking at the bottom, waiting to snatch him up. He knew it was silly, but every time he would reach for the light, the image of long sharp talons reaching out for his tiny little hand.

     "You want it to f-float, don't you?" Bill asked simply.

     "Fine," he sighed.

     Georgie left Bill's room, not before grabbing his walkie talkie and headed downstairs. His legs, he realized, were moving slower than normal. A fact he was fine with if it meant it took longer to get to the cellar. He passed his mother in the dining room, where she sat at the piano, her fingers dancing along the keys. The music added a chilling tone that made his nerves spike.

     When Georgie reached the kitchen, he slowed. The cellar door was open and he could hear that same sinister voice in the back of his head, promising his demise. Georgie gulped, but oh, how he wanted that boat!

     Bill wouldn't be scared. Bill was never scared of the cellar, so neither should he!

     Georgie walked slowly over to the door, gently pushing it open. The door made a sickening creak and he crept to the edge of the stairs, hoping whatever possible creature lurked at the bottom wouldn't hear him. His breathing picked up and he gulped, he could hear something clattering down there!

     A sharp, piercing beep rang in his ears, startling him.

     "Georgie," It was just Bill from the walkie talkie. "Hurry up."

     Struggling to regain his composure, he clung to the wall, reaching for the light and tried not to think about the claw that could take his arm. His fingers reached the switch and flicked it back and forth. Nothing. He would have to go down into the cellar. In the dark.

     Georgie took several deep breaths, desperately attempting to swallow his fear.

     "It's okay," he whispered under his breath. "I'm brave."

     He trudges down the cellar stairs, an iron grip on the railing, letting darkness engulf him. He sighed when he reached the bottom. He had made it down the stairs. But now came the hard part. Taking a deep breath he began looking around, squinting in the dark trying to find the gulf wax and get the hell out of there.

     "Where's the wax?" He mumbled. "There's the wax. Yes."

     Georgie always felt that as long as he could talk, even if he was alone, he was at least somewhat safe. Perhaps hearing a voice, even his own was something to distract him from his fears. He stood on his tippy toes, extending his arm, reaching for the paraffin wax for his boat.

     He got it! Now he could leave the nasty old cellar. It always smelled sewage and gook you'd find in a gutter. It was a nasty smell. The cellar smell. But something in Georgie told him to look up, and he did. What he saw made him back up.

     In the sea of darkness, he saw two bright and shiny orbs, staring at him. Stalking him. His heart beating rapidly in his chest and he stifled a gasp. The flashlight. For some unknown reason that baffled him, he hadn't grabbed the flashlight next to him on the dryer before.

     He quickly grabbed it, his hands shaking as he felt for the button with his other hand. He pressed it and the light shined brightly, illuminating nothing but the same old shelf across the room. The two orbs, he realized, were just two empty jars that must have caught the light that made it through the tiny cellar windows behind him.

     But he couldn't shake the feeling something had been watching him. Something that was still watching him. He needed to leave, immediately, he thought. And he did.

     He heard a loud clatter near him, something he would never be able to identify, that was soon followed by a crack of thunder. He jumped into a sprint for the stairs, more words tumbling out of his mouth.

     "What was that? What's that? Oh, jeez!"

     He scrambled up the stairs, still clutching the flashlight firmly in his hands. The light jumped up and down the walls as he moved his arms and Georgie was certain he had never run the fast.

     But it was fine now. He was out of the cellar and he had the wax for his boat.

     Now, he stood next to Bill at his desk, his left arm wrapped loving around his older brother. He studied Bill's technique as he painted the paper boat - the boat now labeled the 'SS Georgie' in black marker - with paraffin wax.

     Bill set the paintbrush back in the bowl of wax and picked up the boat by the edges. He turned to Georgie.

     "Alright," he handed the SS Georgie to his little brother and smiled. "There you go. S-she's all ready, Captain."

     Confusion and interest flickered over Georgie's face. "She?"

     Bill nodded. "You always call b-b-boats 'she'."

     "'She'," Georgie nodded, liking the new interesting fact. "Thanks, Billy."

     Georgie extended his arms and pulled his brother in for a hug, who gladly accepted. Georgie gave him a big squeeze and Bill smiled. He gently prodded his fingers in Georgie's side, knowing just where his brother was ticklish.

     Georgie giggled and pulled back, and Bill smiled. Georgie grabbed the walkie and ran skipping out of the room.

     "See you later. Bye!" Georgie called disappearing into the hallway.

     When he heard the front door close moments later, he rose to his feet and went to the window.

     There on the sidewalk was Georgie, who was now dressed in his yellow slicker and matching rain boots. He was gleaming and sent a big happy wave to Bill, who tentatively waved back.

     Bill didn't know why he felt the way he did suddenly. He felt a sense of dread, that he ignored at that moment. Something he would be kicking himself for, for the rest of his life.

     But he did bring his walkie up to his lips and spoke.

     "Be careful,"

     He had no idea what compelled him to say that. And he remembered thinking that was something you'd usually hear from a mom or a dad. Not your brother. But he shook it off.

     Bill watched as his brother placed the boat into the small stream that formed in between the curb and the street. The boat took off and so did Georgie.

     That was the last time Bill ever saw Georgie alive.

     He ran alongside his boat in a happy sprint. No matter how fast he ran, she was quicker. As he'd run he jump off the curb into the large puddles, watching them splash. Then he'd jump right back up and run off the grass again.

     The SS Georgie sped down the street. She zipped and zoomed and Georgie watched with delight, giggling merrily. She sped right under a sawhorse on the road. Printed on it, with big black letters were the words: DERRY PUBLIC WORKS.

     Georgie was sure to duck when he reached it, his boat just ahead by his feet. He was still bent over, eyes still on the boat, he failed to notice the second sawhorse just as he straightened.

     THUNK!

     Georgie lay on the concrete, his forehead and lower half sore from the fall and he winced. He could feel the stream of rain soaking his pants and sneaking into his boots.

     The boat! The boat was still getting away. He scanned the street, squinting through the splashback of thousands of raindrops in the street, but he finally spotted the boat. She had just hit a corner, but she persisted. She had no trouble getting around the large obstacle in the street and she turned. Georgie jumped to his feet and chased after her.

     His legs were small but they run fast. But not fast enough to reach the boat in time before it hit a snag and twirled into a storm drain.

     "No!" He cried, kneeling down into the gutter. "No, Bill's gonna kill me!"

     He peered into the gutter, squinting for the boat. Maybe it wasn't as steep as it looked, he thought. Maybe he could reach her. But his thoughts were suddenly cut short.

     A pair of yellow eyes opened in the darkness. They gleamed brightly and they were fixed right on Georgie. He jumped back with a frightful yelp. A darkened figure slithered forward.

     "Hiya, Georgie!"

     From the small portion of the face that was showing, he could see a pale white face, with blood-red lips. The ends of the lips trailed all the way up in sharp lines and didn't seem to stop. The smile was big and cartoonish, it was unnatural and he had two large teeth that reminded Georgie of a rabbit. But if he wasn't mistaken, the figure in the storm drain was a clown?

     The voice was cheerful and light, but it was gravelly and deep. Georgie didn't like this voice or the feeling it brought.

     And had Georgie been wrong before? I must have, he thought because the eyes were now a bright blue. But his attention was immediately drawn to the object in the clown's hand.

     "What a nice boat." The clown said, showing it the boy. "Do you want it back?"

     Georgie, was still very much startled from the turn of events, frowned uneasily. Yet he nodded.

     "Um, yes please."

     The face tilted its head and smiled a crooked grin. "You look like a nice boy. I bet you have a lot of friends."

     Georgie tilted his head, slowly his guard came down, but he couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Nevertheless, he answered, timidly.

     "Three. But my brother's my best best."

     The face gleamed, perking up in interest.

     "Where's he?"

     Georgie noticed the slobber pooling in the clown's lower lip, and it dribbled over in long streams. He was drooling. Georgie tried not to stare. He had learned well and good from his mother that it was not polite to stare.

     "In bed. Sick."

     The shadowy face seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment.

     "I bet I could cheer him up. I'll give him a balloon!"

     Georgie looked away briefly, feeling very uneasy. The clown, who noticed the boy's hesitation and perked up.

     "Do you want a balloon too, Georgie?"

     "I'm not supposed to take stuff from strangers." The boy answered.

     "Oh," He scoffed happily. "Well, I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown!"

     He shook his head, and a small flurry of jingles accompanied.

     "'Pennywise?' 'Yes.'" The clown spoke to Itself and answered, feigning a conversation. "'Meet Georgie.' 'Georgie, meet Pennywise.'"

     Georgie couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat, and Pennywise smiled.

     "Now we aren't strangers, are we?"

     At that moment, the inhabitant of the house just in front of that very storm drain stepped out onto her porch. She held her coat tightly to herself and shivered. The wind chimes were waving sporadically and tapping against the outdoor blinds.

     She grabbed the ropes and pulled the curtains up, surprised to see a young boy in a bright yellow raincoat leaning into the sewer. She frowned, losing interest and steeped away, her cat at her feet still watching.

     "What are you doing in the sewer?" Georgie asked curiously.

     "A storm blew away," Pennywise drawled. "Blew the whole circus away."

     Pennywise chuckled with the very same high and gravelly voice before his face fell unexpectedly. The clown stared at Georgie, his friendly mask falling briefly.

     "Can you smell the circus, Georgie?"

     Georgie frowned in confusion. He leaned ever so slightly forward.

     "There's peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, and...?"

     Georgie could, in fact, smell all those things. He could smell the sweet sugary aroma of cotton candy and he could practically taste the salty flavor of peanuts. But underneath all that, he could smell the familiar vulgar and repulsive stench. The cellar smell.

     But then he got a strong burst of popcorn.

     "Popcorn?"

     "Popcorn!" The figure chuckled and nodded eagerly. "Is that your favorite?"

     Georgie smiled for the first time in the interaction, and he nodded. "Uh-huh."

     "Mine too!" Pennywise chuckled, and voice cracked. "Because they pop. Pop, pop, pop!"

     Georgie giggled at the funny noise, and Pennywise continued.

     "Pop, pop, pop."

     "Pop," Giggled Georgie.

     Pennywise cackled along with Georgie but stopped suddenly. He stared at Georgie, drool dribbling down his chin once more and he was stared at Georgie hungrily.

     The uneasy feeling returned to Georgie. He could feel the pit in his stomach blooming. He forced a polite smile, unable to hide his discomfort.

     "I should get going now,"

     "Oh," The clown licked its lips. "Without your boat?"

     Georgie frowned. He wanted to get far away from the storm drain. Run all the way home and snuggle up under the safety of Bill's covers, where he would be protected, and never look back. Never think about the creepy clown in the sewers. But something else was gnawing at Georgie, a doubt deep-seeded in the back of his mind. A doubt Pennywise brought to light.

     "You don't want to lose it, Georgie," the clown warned. "Bill's gonna kill you,"

     Bill would. He would be very mad at Georgie. For bothering him while he was sick, goading him into making that stupid boat and to lose it immediately. And after going to all that trouble. Bill would be disappointed. That's what worried Georgie, and he didn't want his brother being mad at him.

     Pennywise extended the boat, ever so slightly, and grinned. His smile looked like that of the Cheshire cat, stretching into impossible lengths.

     "Here," the whisper chilled Georgie to his very bones. "Take it."

     He would take the boat, and say his thanks, and leave. The voice grew impatient.

     "Take it, Georgie," The voice was deep and low, but still gravelly.

     The very same thoughts that he always had about the cellar, popped back into his head. Bill would take it, a small voice in his head told him, he's brave. Against his better judgment, Georgie crawled closed, reaching out for the boat. It would be just as easy as getting the gulf wax, he told himself.

     The second his palm landed on the concrete, the second his fingers were within reach, the clown's eyes returned to a deep yellow. Georgie's hand was snatched, and the clown's head opened up, growing hundreds of sharp teeth and It chomped down on Georgie's arm, biting it clean off.

     Georgie's terrified cries of pain echoed down the streets of Jackson and Witcham and yet the only being that heard his muffled cries of help was the neighbor's cat, still perched on the porch. Georgie did his best to crawl away from the storm drain, he wiggled himself along the street, blood pouring out of his shoulder where his right arm once was.

     But it was no use. A long arm, slowly extending and protruding from the sewers came for him. Much like what he had always envisioned would happen when he used the cellar lightswitch. His small body was pulled into the storm drain, and Georgie Denbrough was no more.

+++

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovavision @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica

[denrbough]

In defense of bill denbrough

I don't have the room for screenshots (I tried to make them a gif of a slideshow but it kept crashing Tumblr bc huge files) but I'll sum up a few things I want to clear up in this

People thinking that Bill chose to be in charge of the losers to be bossy

Him wanting to leave Eddie in the sewers just because

That he was selfish

That he didn't have important problems ig?? Or that his story was uninteresting??

I want to talk about his perseverance despite a bad home life

And how the losers love him, if the losers you love can love him, you can too

And my last point is about how most people think somehow that Bill would be at all discriminatory??

I have bits and pieces from the book for all the claims and more coming below; I reread the whole book for this but kept what seemed most important to bring up

First; I'm going to start with how Bill didn't actually choose to be in charge, he didn't want to boss people around. It was clear in him and also sometimes noticed by the other losers, notably Eddie:

Eddie notices twice that the whole leadership thing is taking a major toll on Bill's physical and emotional health. That and Bill doesn't want to be the planner and the leader. He thinks he's a freak and he doesn't think he knows what he's doing. They nominated him as leader from a young age. He couldn't control that. (In order to preserve image quality and go into more detail on specific screenshots I will be making individual metas on each of my bullet points, this is just the large post where I vent my issues with the fandom perception)

Next I'd like to debunk the assumption that Bill wanted to leave Eddie in the sewers. He didn't, he wanted to come out alive with the others who still had a chance at making it. If you want further to analyze this, it can be brought up that Richie and Bev didn't want Bill to take Audra's alive body from the sewers despite us all saying Bill is the asshole for not being able to carry Eddie out.

In fact, Bev and Ben were the ones to originally suggest leaving Eddie. And to further that, Bev yelled at Bill for trying to get the living human out as well. Bev's motivations were more rushed and selfish, but Bill had the overarching goal of getting them all out.

That segways nicely into a point I'd like to make about how Bill genuinely was the most determined to kill It and not just for his own reasons, he thought of the other kids who might die several times while the other losers like to gloss over that:

When Richie went to go see the horror picture, he decided to pretend Bill's fingers hadn't almost been cut off. Put it off as a joint hallucination. And direct quote "besides there was no law saying he had to spend the next ten years thinking about it, was there? Nope"

If Bill hadn't pleaded with Richie to help, Richie would have had no intention of trying to get rid of It and save the other kids, even after Richie had to watch his friend get injured firsthand.

Stan was the same, not wanting to end up in the "nuthouse" on juniper hill. But Bill's motivation to save the town pulled even the most hesitant losers in to help.

And it's not just saving the kids from pennywise. No, he initiated a fight with Bowers not even knowing that his friends would join him and help, all to help a kid that he didn't even know. Mike Hanlon.

Not only was he the most determined, but in regards to pennywise trauma, he already had something very lasting to deal with as far as his mental health. His parents were neglectful and his brother was dead, and he kept on trying regardless. He was depressed, which is very clear in the book.

There's the point when he's getting Eddie's inhaler and it states "just as if Ben would be astounded if you asked him if he was lonely, Bill would have been likewise astounded if asked if he was courting death."

The narration makes it abundantly clear that Ben is lonely and always has been, which symbolises here that Bill is clearly suicidal, even if not actively, he does try to die/do things to harm himself with no intention of stopping.

This passage was heartbreaking. His fear in this scene was that everyone would forget about him, like his parents did, and like Georgie was gone. It's all his fault, he decides, and he thinks he deserves to be punished but he's still fully terrified of what he thinks he deserves.

In that note, his parents were neglectful, which affected him consistently in his thought process.

He wouldn't finish dinner because he couldn't stand to sit with them when they were so cold with him.

Mike mentions as adults that Bill practiced that poem so much because Bill wanted so badly for his mom to think he's a good boy. Bill cried at this, again as an adult.

He wanted to take pennywise's severed head to his parents and talk about how he'd avenged Georgie and "would they please finally talk to him"

He even thinks one point about how his parents are so caught up in their grief that he wonders if they know he's hurting, or if he's being reckless.

But unlike Sharon and Zack Denbrough. The losers were smitten with him. There's several passages of the losers talking about how much he means to them or how good he is.

Not to mention that Bill is the only one Bev told about her abusive father. She told him and he coaxed it out of her to let herself say she hated him, which is a huge turning point in the development of the way she views evil.

On a whole new thread of thought, I'd like to bring up how the fandom likes to pretend that Bill would be the most discriminatory loser?? I have a whole other meta to write about comparing losers in that way but Bill very clearly had the least ill intent towards minorities.

He met Mike and Mike was scared he'd ask questions about what it was like to be black, but Bill just asked him about baseball, and this comforted Mike. There's also when Richie is teaching Eddie about syphilis and how men and women get it from fucking, and Bill jumps in to say "unless it's two guys who are queer" and he had no malace or upset towards gay men, he just found it important to include in the conversation, which could be a nod to Bill accepting Eddie as gay, or even being mlm himself because it was a quick thought to have if it wasn't something prevalent in his life. He knows the shopkeep where he got silver the second time was gay, and was apologetic for scaring him, mentally acknowledging the hate crime

If you read this whole thing you deserve a prize for being a champ bc I'm more long winded than Stephen King himself Anna oop-

[randoms-world]

After all this time (Stanley Uris x oc x Eddie kaspbrak)

Being Bill's sister had its benefits, the main one was that Alex got to meet the amazing Stanley Uris and Eddie kaspbrak who she had grown strong feelings for. She never let these feelings surface as in her mind bill wouldn't approve and he wouldn't want be stan and Eddie friend anymore and she would not let that happen. During that summer her feelings towards the two came to light for all the losers club and bill was surprisingly okay with it and it turns out stab and eddie felt the same way. Unfortunately it was only a few months later that bill and Alex's family moved out of Derry and what the kids didn't know at the time was that they'd forget each for the next 27 years.

*27 years later*

She was awoken by her phone ringing she so sat up and picked up "this us Alex Denbrough speaking" she says "its mike Hanlon, from derry" the voice says and Alex felt a slight stinging in her hand. Mike wanted her to come her and she said she would so she started packing as her door nocks, she went to answer to see bill there "you got a call too?" He says and Alex nodded. They get Alex's bags into the car and they made the trio to derry not knowing what awaits them.

*at the restaurant*

The two siblings were led to the table mike had booked here and once they got there bill was pulled right into a hug by what can only be Mike Hanlon. Alex for some reason kept looking to see if anyone else would show up and she couldn't explain why "I'm so happy you two made it" mike says and the three get talking. As alex was stood there she noticed two particular people walking over and her heart skipped a beat "hey eddie, stan you guys made it" mike says happily. Those names spiked a memory in Alex's head and she smiles Remembering the boys she has always love since she was only young. It was like she has always has these feelings and being back in derry had them resurface. Soon the other losers has shown up and they all caught up with each other and had a laugh, there is one thing alex wouldn't mention and only bill knew what that thing was. He wanted to tell the others but it was for his sister to tell not him "anyway don't you think it's a little weird that nun of us have kids" mike says and alex shifts in her seat  a little bit "you okay there Alex?" Richie asked "yea I'm fine" Alex says. Eddie and stan could see right threw that lie but they'd didn't wanna make her more uncomfortable, richie then had to make a joke that nun of them would probably make good parents "I MAY NOT BUT I WIULD GOD DAME WELL TRY MY HARDEST, I HAD THE CHANCE BUT IT WAS TAKEN AWAY FROM ME!" Alex yelled tears spilling out of her eyes. At first the other were confused but once the implication of what she just yelled came in their heads richie looked really guilty afraid he'd say something else to upset her. Eddie and stan went over to Alex and tried to comfort her the best they could and they even softly kissed her cheek which made her smile at the two. After another incident with the fortune cookies they all went back to the town house and alex went into her room and after a few minutes there was a nock at the door. She whipped her eyes "come in" she says and stan and Eddie walk in and sit either side of her "you okay?" Eddie asked and even tho she tried to convince herself she was okay it couldn't stop herself from crying. The two men wrapped their arms around her creating a feeling of protection and comfort for this girl, once she stopped crying she looked at the two "thanks guys" she said. The two smiled "your welcome" stan says and for the rest of their trip the 3 stuck together as much as they could and after they had finally defeated the evil that plagued their childhood it was no surprise when they all started living together. Bill was just happy that his sister had finally gotten the happy ending she truly deserved and it wasn't long till the 3 were married and Alex fell pregnant with twins finally getting her happily ever after.

[every-jai]

Catching a Storm

Chapter 3

After a nearly sleepless night, Tom woke me up. For the first time, he smiled at me sincerely. "Good morning, (Y/N)! I hope you slept at least a little." I smiled back, "More or less." He holds a Cup of tea out for me that I gladly took. "You're lucky. The storm had died down, and you can go home safe now." A second later, a dark shadow flew into my arms. With an "Omph," I felt down back on my Bed. "Miss (Y/N) you are still here! I thought you were already gone! How are the Baby birds doing?" Mike snuggled into my Armes. "Are you going to stay with us today?" The little Boy asked curiously. I looked at him a bit sad ,, I wish, but I have to go home. I need to prepare your lessons for next week. But we see each other Monday morning 7- o'clock straight" I said with a little wink to his Father, who smirked slightly at my comment.

Back in Goolwa, I was met with a scolding look from Mrs. Barnaby. "Miss (Y/L/N), you are back," she said coldly. I decided to ignore it, maybe she just had a bad day. "You had a nice night?"

Now she sounded downright judgmental. I stopped and looking at her in Question "Is there something you want to say, Mrs. Barnaby? If not, I would really appreciate going to Bed now, it was a very short night"

Her eyes go wide, and she nearly dropped her book. I had to hold back a snicker because I knew very well what she was insisting.

But that was ridiculous. Mike was the main and only reason I was down at the Beach. Ok, his Father was a good looking man, tall, brought shoulders, slight curls on his head and a nicely trimmed Beard. He was a grieving widower, the last thing he needed was his Son's teacher swooning over him. Albeit I had to admit that his touch the previous night, that little caress of my Hand... had stirred something in me.

Mrs. Barnaby left me alone for the rest of the day and even didn't take me to church with her. I used the whole Sunday to correct Mike's work, finishing my latest report to the school's council and prepare the new week.

Still, I couldn't stop thinking about Tom. It got even worse at night when I started dreaming about him, his hands on my Body, his lips softly kissing down my throat, along my collarbone and his incredible blue eyes looking into my soul.

He softly whispered my name with his deep voice.... and then a little louder. I moaned while his strong hands dipped under the waistband of my trousers. Again he said my name... but why he was suddenly back to my last name?

I looked at him in question. He now nearly screamed at me." Miss (Y/L/N) wake up! You are roughly oversleeping,"

I opened my eyes and looked into Mrs. Barnaby's angry face. Turning beet red, I hoped she hadn't realized what I was dreaming about.

"It is already 6:30. I would say you should get up to see your pupil" Her snotty tone told me that she still thought that I was down there for Tom, which of course I wasn't.... right?

Nearly two hours later, I was back at the Shack. Thankfully Tom was already on his boat because I wasn't sure if I was able to look him in the eyes without blushing furiously.

In the next few weeks, the birds grew tremendously, not only in size but also in personality. Mr. Ponder, Mr. Pround, and Mr, Percival lived pretty much up to their names and took over the Kingley household very fast. I nearly died of laughter one day, when Tom told me that the cheeky birds had followed him to the outhouse to demand their breakfast.

Besides that, Tom and I became much closer.

We often sat on the porch after the lessons and talked, laughed, and enjoyed the presence of each other. Sometimes I think he even was flirting with me a little.

Today Mike and I made an excursion into the Dunes to see how the Pelicans live in their natural habitat. Of course, Mike had seen it plenty of times, but now we would see it with the proper knowledge.

We strutted thru the nests when we suddenly heard a shot rang thru the air. The hunters were back again and even shot the birds while they breed! I took Mike's Hand. "We should go back, it's not safe here any longer." He nodded, and we went back to the Shack.

Just before we arrived at the end of the Dunes, another shot rang, and a sudden white-hot pain exploded thru my left thigh. Moaning I sank to my knees and Mike screamed my name in panic, throwing himself into my arms ,,No! Miss (Y/N)!" I clenched my teeth and looked at my leg, where Blood was already seeping through the fabric of my dress "It's all right Mike, let's get back home, ok?"

The Boy helped me up, and I tried to stand on the Injured leg. It hurts like a bitch, but it was possible, so I assumed that the bone wasn't affected.

With clenched teeth and Mike's help, we made it to the hut.

I let myself down on one of the chairs. My thigh was still bleeding, and I pressed my Hand on the wound to stop it, so the Boy wouldn't see too much "Mike, honey, can you do me a favor and fetch Fingerbone for me?" He nodded eagerly and stormed out. Hissing I lifted my Hand up. The wound looked deep and was as big as a one-pound coin. I sighed and closed my eyes, pressing my Hand on the wound again.

Suddenly the door was opened, and Tom came inside. "(Y/N), is everything ok? Where is Mike?" His sight felt on my leg. The bucket of fishes he was carrying fell out of his hands, and he leaped towards me. "Oh god, what... what happened? Is that a gun-shot wound? Where the heck is my Son??"

I swallowed slowly, the pain started to make me dizzy. "Your Son is all right, I've sent him to Fingerbone Bill. I know he has some medical skills, so he might help."

Tom rubbed his eyes, tiredly, "How the heck did you managed to get shot?" I shook my head lightly to stayed focused "We.... we were in the Dunes to look at the Birds... Birds nests, when we heard someone shoot. I'm...I'm... "I felt like I was fainting.

"Tom, can I have a glass of water please I... "After that, everything went black. The last thing I heard was Tom screaming my name.

The next time I woke up, I felt terrible. Everything was hot and cold at the same time, and my leg burned like it was on fire. I didn't know what time or date it was. My throat was dry as the desert. I tried to look around and saw Tom sitting by my side, napping.

It took almost all my power to lift my Hand to touch him. He instantly wakes up "(Y/N)!" he whispered and took my Hand carefully.

A little smile crept on to his worried face. "Hey little one, how are you doing?" I felt way too sick to comment on him using a nickname for me.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a croaked noise. "Shhh. don't speak, you want some water?" I nodded weakly, and Tom stood up to get me a glass.

When he came back, he carefully grabbed my head to bend it a bit so I could drink. I took a big gulp, and Tom put the glass back on the nightstand. "what... what happened?" I managed to whisper. He took my Hand, caressed it softly, and sighed. "You fainted because of pain and blood loss. For a moment I thought you were dead" Tears started to glisten in his eyes as he continued.

"Bill came in a minute or so later and took care of your wound. He retrieved the bullet and closed the wound as good as possible. Still, you caught an infection. Bill says he can help with it, but it would be better to go to a hospital,"

I shook my head "No, no hospital!" I took a deep breath ,,They would ask too many questions and... and maybe report it to the child service. They might deem it also danger...dangerous for a child and take him away from you!"

Tom closed his eyes, bend his head down to me, and our foreheads touched. "Please, (Y/N) you need professional help! I..." He swallowed hard "I couldn't stand losing you too" I tried to smile a little "Everything will be all right... all... right" Exhaustion took over, and I fell back to a dreamless sleep.

For the next few days (I think it was days, I had no real feeling for time) I slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes there was Tom, giving me something to drink again, sometimes it was Bill, who forced me to eat something very bitter and awful. I even remember Mike coming by and telling me about the Pelicans.

One day, he stood up from the chair beside me and gave me a little kiss on my cheek "Please, Miss (Y/N) get well soon! My Daddy needs you!" he whispered in my ear and ran out of the Room.

Finally, after 5 days - that's what Bill told me- I felt a lot better when I woke up. I was able to sit on the Bed and stay awake. Bill was proud of my progress. He bought me a box with small packages, made of leaves, "You need to take them twice a day for the next two weeks. It's a remedy my tribe uses for centuries, something similar to your antibiotics." I nodded and put the box aside.

Bill looked at the wound on my leg ,,It looks much better now"He said "No more fever and only a slight redness. What do you think? Should we try to stand you up on your own two feet?" I nodded eagerly and carefully, with Bill's help, I stood up.

My legs were still wobbly, and the right one hurt a lot. In this Moment I heard the front door "Bill? Mike? anyone home?" It was Tom.

Slowly I started to walk to the door. Suddenly Tom looked in my direction. "(Y/N)!" He yelled and darted towards me. Tom wrapped his arms around me. "It's so good to see you on your own two feet!"

He cupped my cheek with one hand and slung the other one around my lower back.  When I looked into his eyes, I saw pure relief "I was so afraid..." He whispered, and the next Moment I felt his lips hard on mine.

I was so shocked that I didn't react at all. Was that real? Was I still dreaming in a fever? You know what? I don't care! If this is a dream, it's the best one I've ever had.

Slowly I laid my Hand on his and kissed back. Unfortunately, my action seems to get him back to reality. He stopped immediately and looked at me with wide eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry, so sorry! I didn't mean to..I can't.." He stumbled backward and out the door again. Slowly I let myself down on the Bed. "Well, that was awkward," I stated.

Bill laughed lightly. "He's confused. Tom was at your side the whole time. He nearly never left you. It's obvious he has feelings for you and now feels guilty for his late wife."

I looked at him with wide eyes "I.. I don't ... I mean," He held his Hand up to stop me and smiled. "Please, even my ancestors could see how much you like each other."

I laughed too and looked at my feet. "It is that obvious, yes? "Bill shrugged his shoulders "But he's still grieving. He's not ready, and I'm not sure if he ever will"

Bill laid his big Hand on my shoulder "Give him some time, he's nearly there. Believe me, everything will be as it should."

In the next few days, I slowly came to my old strength. Tom acted as nothing ever happened, but also hold his distance again. I was despondent about that. Maybe I was too fast and shouldn't have kissed him back.

Mike, on the other Hand, clings to me like glue. He always took my Hand or cuddled up to me.

The Pelicans were no longer skinny little chicks now. They've grown a lot and ate more solid food. Tom was a bit worried about their ever-growing appetite but helped as much as he could.

Because my leg wasn't right enough for cycling yet, Tom was so kind to travel up to the Port every morning to take me to the Beach, and every night to get me back to my Room.

On my first day back at Mrs. Barnaby, she looked me up and down scrutinizing as always. "I never thought you would be like that!" I sighed and looked at the ceiling. "What is it this time, Mrs. Barnaby? If you want to tell me something, shoot!"

I was absolutely fed up. My leg hurt, I was tired like never bevor, and that tension between Tom and me was absolutely exhausting. She looked at me with utter disgust. "He is a widower! You should take care of his Son, teach him, keep him and his Father friendly company. But not like that! Overnight? Someone like you shouldn't teach children."

All my books felt down. "Some... someone like me? What do you think I am?" She nearly spat on the floor before me, "Not a good Christian woman, like I thought. I'm sorry I have to remove you from my house, I don't rent to... to harlots!"

I felt like I was hit by a Truck. Did she really called me a Harlot?? Breathing deep I bent down, got my Books up from the floor and smiled widely at my former Landlady

"Well, then maybe you should leave me alone, so I can pack all my promiscuous clothing and my erotic Books and can go to offer my service to a few of the townsmen" Mrs. Barnaby looked liked she might get a stroke.

I snickered when she left the Room in a hurry and started packing my few bags. In some way, I was relieved. I hadn't moved out of my parent's house, only to be watched over again.

15 Minutes later and without a goodbye from that old Dragon, I stood back on the street. Down the road was

a little hotel. The friendly owner Mr. James smiled at me knowingly. "Yes, Mrs. Barnaby. She has some very old believing, but I know times have changed. You got lucky, I've got one nice Room left. You can have it as long as you need it for 15,- a week?"

I thanked him and was on my way upstairs when his voice stopped me one more time ,,Miss (Y/n), I know you do your best for the Boy AND his Father. They both need you" I nodded at him thankfully and went on my way.

–------------------------‐----------------------

Yeah, I'm still here! Hope you like this part of the story! Please read and comment! Love ya all!!

[ferrerochocobo]

Okay so MOST of the time- I don't post my personal life on here, but I think for just once- this is one of those times I need to address something.

An asshat of a coworker.

For context- yes, we both have Aspergers. I work at a company that employs people with disabilities. But that DOES not mean I get along with my fellow Aspergers people all the time. Especially if they have no desire to be courteous- knowing they're hurting the feelings of others.

With that, here's another segment of what crap my coworker did tonight. Also, I work on a military base. So if I'm redacting- it's for good reason.

So tonight, it started with us getting into the van after the [redacted]. You know- where the [redacted] and [redacted] are. Now, I'm gonna scribble a diagram of the van. So you can understand the seating here.

Okay, that's super shitty BUT the two at the top are the front seats, behind is this long seat, behind that is a long seat with an individual seat beside it. Next to two doors. And behind that, the same deal.

So- we get on the van and he sits in the seat behind the passengers.

I crawl on in with my book bag and sit on the third seat- by the window.

I can hear him sigh and he's like, 'Can you shut the door getting in from now on?'

I tell him that if I was closer, I would. But also have a bag on my back. But if we traded seats, it would be easier. Obviously pissed at my solution, the guy says nothing. We go to the youth center then the other one with the gym. And this dude. Like....christ.

Not only does he like to do this thing where he only opens one side of the interlocking doors when we get to [redacted]- which effectively has me clattering like a turtle around in the van- But when I go to unlock the center's doors- he tries to constantly step in front before I can get in and put my bag down.

So I go to return the keys and ask [Team Lead] what she wants me to do- and per usual- [redacted] comes up and inturupts me in the middle of my conversation.

I've swallowed his inturupting constantly. Chalking it up to Aspergers. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. But holy christ if I was done with this inconsiderate shit. And [Team Lead] saw me. She knows. I turn to him with whatever hes saying and go- 'I was talking. Stop inturupting me.'

In a tone that can only be thrown in with the sound of spiteful pride at getting snapped off at, he says his 'Sorry...!' And that tears it. This man is an adult and he's acting like this. He owns a house. A car. And lives on his own and pays bills. And is acting like this to me.

I don't even let him finish his excuse.

'You always inturupt me in conversation! Learn to respect others!' He goes off in his huff and I turn back to [Team Lead]. She smiles half-heartedly because she can see my frustration. Tells me to breathe. I successfully get my calm back. In between my fear of yelling at others and my own frustration- it's usually why I have panics.

So we talk a bit and I'm like, 'I had to. He always inturupts and I told you I was gonna.'

She grins and she's like, 'I know. He does it to me all the time and it's rude!'

So with that, I go and clean. And the entire time- he's in his usual silent grump, foul mood. The kind that comes from being busted. We finish up and go back to the warehouse. (For context here of what's coming: Sometimes he drives me home.)

So we get back and I'm putting stuff away- I'm on one side of the warehouse and he's on the other.

Some of the coworkers are still around, too. Including [redacted]. A really nice Taurean coworker.

Out of nowhere, in this really smug voice in front of others, jerky guy goes-

Him: 'Hey [redacted].'

Me: 'Oh. Yeah?'

Him: 'Deals' off.'

I arch my brow a bit. Because I know he's trying to stab my pride. He's trying to make me feel helpless.

Me: 'Cool. Cheaper anyways. You need to stop being disrespectful to me.'

Him: 'What?'

And I'm hella sure he heard me. He wants me to shut down. But his 5'10-5'11 is nothing to the 5'7 I have, or the confidence I have with the few around- including my team lead.

Me: 'You always inturupt me. It's rude and disrespectful. Learn to have respect for me. Conversation over.'

I pass him and go to the clock and clock out. He's all, 'You do realize I'm talking about driving you home right?'

Me: 'Yeah, and I don't care. I have my mom. And Uber. Way cheaper.'

Him: 'Like I give a care.'

Me: 'Then why are we having this conversation?'

Me: 'See ya. Once again, conversation over.'

My team lead just knows and I watch him leave as I go to her. Then to [nice Taurus coworker] and the guys and tell them what shit [jerky coworker] did.

He was worried and wanted to keep peace. And I'm like, 'Man, the guy needs to stop that shit. You know me well enough. He tried to stand up and be taller but I'm the Aspie Alpha. Not him.' We do the usual handshake and I head home.

Now, you have to understand- just because we're Aspergers, doesn't mean we don't have a right to be treated kindly. To be treated respectibly. Over the course of the years, he's bluntly called me a bitch. He's made sarcastic remarks when I clean and do my job before he gets to a building like, 'I'm actually surprised you did your job.'

He's belittled me and called me lazy. He's also, multiple times- voiced his opinion on how he feels about religion.

He's made me feel self-concious about my body by knowing I'm a cosplayer and telling me 'I can't see you as that character. You're too big for them. Maybe if you lost 15 or 20 lbs though.' All the while, boosting himself up and talking about all his accomplishments. All the while- basking in the fact that every time he says something rude and I don't call him on it- that that means he's won.

You must understand. I am not a violent person. My heart flutters in fear of yelling at people. Hurting them.

But I feel my anger turn to not spite- but courage. A voice in me that was once a whisper every time he inturupts me turning into a roar of confidence. Something that can't be silent. I wouldn't take this from a friend. And I will not take this from an enemy.

To other Aspergers people- how would you handle this? I really want to know. NTs can answer, but I really want a fellow Aspergers person's opinion.

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: Word to the wise, McKenna, get your missus off the streets unless you want her to get hate crimed Buster: Like I care what happens to her Buster: Hospital bills aren't in the realm of what I pay for unless they're Jay's Rio: I can assure you I care even less so regardless of how little you feel for this one Rio: get her out of my face, yeah, cheers Buster: Handle her yourself Buster: I'm out of the habit of doing favors for you Rio: Why should I? Rio: She's your mess Buster: She's never been mine Buster: Nothing to me, like Rio: Of course not Rio: 'cept the mother of your child, like Buster: Jay's not gonna wake up and scroll Chlo's social feed. I reckon we're fine Rio: Luckily for you too Buster: What the fuck's that meant to mean? Rio: Hardly keeping it PG are you Rio: at least Chlo has the deceny to keep it fake Buster: Why should I? Buster: None of them are sticking around for playdates Rio: Exactly Rio: don't need to keep a catalouge running for anyone but yourself Buster: If you've got something to say, say it Buster: Don't make it about my daughter when it ain't Rio: Well yeah, it is Rio: Won't be that long before she can use an iPhone Rio: put money on her figuring it out before you get a clue, anyway Buster: Fuck you Rio: Yeah, fuck you and all Buster: You wish, babe Rio: Still out here with the same shit chat Rio: a miracle you can keep Chlo invested nevermind the rest Buster: Not trying to keep anyone invested Buster: It's your problem that it still works on you Rio: Please Rio: Just keep all your bullshit out my face Buster: Says the girl in my inbox seeking me out Buster: Block me. It's well easy Rio: I know it's hard for you to process, but this ain't about you Rio: anyway, if you took your own advice, these messages would be falling on deaf ears so Buster: I know that you knew I wouldn't care before you even said her name Buster: But here you still are, like Buster: And it's my bullshit, yeah? Okay Rio. Whatever you say Rio: Yeah, truly my bad for reckoning you still had some decency Rio: How are you gonna blame me for this one? Buster: Never claimed it Buster: Your bad for seeing what you're desperate to see Buster: I can blame you for not playing by the rules you made up to suit yourself and leaving me alone Rio: You mean my bad for seeing through your bullshit Rio: I'll claim that, happily Rio: Come on, there were never any rules, it was the fucking opposite from the jump Rio: and you've hardly been alone Buster: You'd have more credibility at seeing through me if you weren't so full of shit yourself Buster: But go off if you wanna Buster: 'Cause we both know what it's really about, yeah? Buster: You wear that jealousy well though, babe, don't worry Rio: Fuck off Rio: I have standards, unlike yourself Buster: They ain't high enough to brag about though Rio: You've got that covered too Rio: Maturity of a twelve year old Buster: And? Buster: You're so mature, it's all just playground games what you do, but 'cause there's cash in it you tell yourself it ain't Rio: And, you're a grownass man with a child so sort yourself the fuck out Rio: This ain't about my job Rio: which you have no idea about so don't even go there Buster: It ain't about me as a dad either, which you know even less about Rio: Yeah, 'cos not everything you do affects your kid Rio: think on like Buster: She's a baby and she's protected from this as much as her psycho ma will let her be Buster: Catch yourself on and stop trying to cross new lines with me now that I won't fuck you Rio: Sure, that's your thing, wait until everything's totally fucked before getting out your cape Buster: Rather that than stress something that ain't a thing Buster: Life's too short, babe, you gotta calm down Rio: Shut the fuck up Rio: I know how short it is Rio: its you that's acting like that means it don't matter Buster: 'Cause you've got all the answers, yeah? 'Course Buster: Ask yourself why you're so obsessed with my kid Buster: I know exactly what matters Rio: Yeah? Then fucking act like it Rio: reckon you're so smart when it's obvious why the fuck I care Rio: don't recall how this goes when you mess it up? Rio: 'cause none of us can fucking forget Buster: Then act like it your fucking self Buster: If you gave a shit you'd know that I ain't nothing like that cunt Rio: Not me you have to prove that to Buster: And I already prove it to her Buster: So fuck you Buster: She ain't Edie and she never will be Rio: Fuck you there was nothing wrong with her Rio: it was him Buster: And I'm not him Buster: So stop Rio: You stop Buster: What? Having a life Buster: Didn't reckon being a dad meant I have to book myself into a monastery like Rio: You don't have to or get to treat people, women in particular, like shit Rio: and act as if that's never coming back on you, and fucking her up Buster: I've never treated a girl anything other than how she wants me to Buster: They ain't asking me to get down on my knees with a ring Rio: Whatever, Buster Buster: Not whatever Buster: You know it firsthand don't act like you don't Rio: I'm not accusing you of being a fucking rapist here Rio: but you're gonna sit here and act like you've never turned a blind eye to a girl's feelings just 'cos it suited you Buster: With Chlo, yeah, and I'm still paying for it Buster: Every girl I've been with since knew exactly what was happening and not. I know I'm hot but they are capable of having a convo with me sometimes Buster: If you wanna think different, chat away to my fucking sister, she's been in that camp way longer, properly knows her way around Rio: Jesus Rio: Just get her on the first plane out of here, yeah Buster: If it was that easy she'd already have gone Rio: Yeah well Rio: Good luck Buster: Well, what? Buster: What do you want me to do? Buster: Whatever it is, take more than luck Rio: I'm not here offering solutions Buster: Just saying you care and doing fuck all to prove it, yeah? Buster: I got that Rio: What can I do? Christ, wasn't as if it was a friendly chat Rio: can hardly wave her through customs Buster: You could help me Buster: Instead of being a bitch Rio: I'm not being a bitch Rio: but go on, how? Buster: Whatever Buster: Forget it Rio: No Rio: I'm being serious Rio: Go on Buster: So I am Buster: I'll sort it myself Rio: Alright Buster: Salvage what you can of your night Rio: Whatever Rio: Will she seriously not leave? Doesn't she...do anything in London or what Buster: She can shop and have brunch here too Buster: Swap my parents for hers, with the bonus pair of hands that's me Rio: More tragic than my life and that's saying something Buster: Shut up Buster: You're alright Rio: Don't worry, not looking for sympathy Buster: Not giving it Buster: I don't need to Rio: Hmm Rio: doesn't she have a dog? Rio: could stage a kidnapping Buster: Wouldn't wish that on her parents, they'd get all the blame Buster: They ain't that bad Rio: Alright, just ransom one of her shit friends then Buster: Like she'd actually care Buster: I'm ringing her, once she has enough missed calls from me she'll come running back Buster: Gotta raise the tally to the highest it's been or what's the point, like Rio: Gets her out of town, yeah Rio: but how are you gonna get her out of yours? Rio: maybe your 'rents can Buster: Not your problem Buster: Neither is the fact my parents would have to be around themselves to notice that she is Rio: Guess even their best stern phone voice ain't really going to cut it Rio: Surely there's a social occasion she's missing? Create a fake one, like Buster: Nothing to top her plans to seduce me into playing happy families Buster: But I'm the one who'll mess Jay up Rio: Alright, I didn't compare you to her, come on Buster: Nah, just the biggest cunt, going Buster: Cheers Rio: Not you as a whole Rio: just some behaviour but yeah Rio: said what i said still sorry Buster: Are you? Rio: Don't push it, I ain't gonna repeat the s word Rio: but yes Buster: You can, I won't tell anyone Rio: Yeah? Forgo the social media for that one Rio: Typical Buster: Hardly the first exception I've made for you, babe Rio: Lucky me Buster: Least you can admit that Rio: Idiot Buster: Behave Buster: I clearly ain't as smart as you want me to be but can't go that far Rio: Alright, ain't the first to not be on my level Rio: sure you won't be the last Buster: Shut up Buster: That's the biggest lie you've told me yet Buster: I easily match you Rio: And that's the most defensive you've been Rio: Oh, boy, some things never change Buster: Good. Things weren't that bad how they were Rio: Yeah Buster: You should go, reckon I've got through her thick skull finally Buster: Have some fun Rio: Oh, ain't even thought of a decent plan yet Buster: Don't worry about it Buster: No reason we should both have a shit night Rio: If I was anywhere Chlo could hunt me down, unlikely I was having a rager, isn't it Buster: Yeah well, you were the one trying to say you had standards, babe Buster: You working or what? Rio: Also saying shit was tragic, if your recall's that good Rio: Nah, rare night off Buster: All the more reason to fuck off and do something good then Buster: Ain't too late yet Rio: Do my best, McKenna Buster: Have one for me, like Rio: Done is done Buster: Sláinte Rio: I miss you Buster: Rio Rio: Sorry Buster: Don't Buster: That isn't how I wanted to hear you say sorry Rio: I know Rio: I didn't mean to say it Buster: I know Rio: Okay fuck Rio: bye Buster: Wait Rio: Yeah? Buster: I miss you too Buster: I'm not sorry Rio: Swear? Buster: Yeah Rio: What do we do? Buster: Do you really want me to answer that? Rio: Guess my answer depends on yours so Buster: You already know there's only one thing I can think about doing Rio: Me too Buster: Fuck Buster: Tell me we can't Rio: Can't now Rio: for real Rio: but I can't say never Rio: it feels as shit as it sounds Buster: I know Buster: That's all I'm sorry for, like Rio: I tried Rio: but it just fucked everything else up too Buster: you and me both, babe Rio: Jesus Rio: what's wrong with us Buster: Nothing I wanna fix Rio: Seriously? Buster: I want you Rio: I know Rio: it made me mental Rio: and that's only the shit i saw, never mind all the stuff i could imagine, and couldn't stop myself from Buster: Good Buster: 'Cause you gave me nothing to go on Rio: Not good Rio: I could fill you in if that's what you want Buster: Is it gonna be worse than what's in my head? Rio: Safe to assume if it was I wouldn't be in your inbox now, would I Buster: No telling with you Rio: Charming Buster: Well, can't be, can I Buster: Not now Rio: I got this far resisting you, sure I can manage a few more days Buster: You reckon? Rio: No but you know Rio: if I ain't got a choice I ain't got one Buster: You could race Chlo to my door Rio: You'd love that, twat Rio: though doubt she's gonna be fast in those heels Buster: How pissed is she? Not gonna love that, am I Rio: Completely white girl wasted Buster: 'Course Buster: Come over a few minutes after she gets here then Rio: We can't do that Buster: I know but I really wish I was being serious Rio: Same Rio: Just have to see you around, like Buster: I'll call you when she gets mad enough at me to go Rio: Sounds like a plan Rio: She's determined but you're annoying as fuck so Buster: Fuck off Buster: You love it Rio: For my sins Rio: I give Chlo 3 days tops Rio: she's fake and we know it Buster: I'll get her to leave tomorrow Buster: You'll see Rio: You talk a big game, babe Buster: If it was all talk I wouldn't be saying it Buster: The proof'll come Buster: I'm determined too Rio: You're cute Buster: You won't be saying that when I'm right Buster: Then I'll be hot as fuck Rio: to yourself or me, like? Buster: Hilarious Rio: You know I got jokes Rio: and you know you're always hot as fuck to me too Buster: Tell me what else you've got for me Rio: Only all of me and whatever you want Buster: I'll take that Rio: Good Rio: not got the holiday home and yacht perks like your usual, soz like Buster: Shut up Buster: You know I don't care about any of that Rio: Giving you some credit, like Rio: Dunno what else you're seeing in 'em Buster: You really wanna talk about them? Rio: Not my first choice but as discussed Rio: not yet Buster: It's easy that's all Rio: You don't need to explain yourself Rio: I'm just jealous Buster: I'm just saying you don't need to be Rio: Not now I know you feel it too Buster: Did you actually think I didn't? Rio: I don't know Rio: Maybe Rio: I told you, couldn't stop thinking all kinds of shit Buster: Idiot Rio: Shut up Rio: said in this very convo that you won't fuck me anymore Buster: And you said you saw through my bullshit Rio: You know, being cocky is your thing Rio: but honestly, always said it, headfuck, yeah? Hardly been here before Rio: don't know what I'm doing or feeling half the time Rio: except I want you, that's all I know Buster: That's all I need you know Buster: It's alright Rio: Yeah? Rio: Good then Buster: It'd be better if you were coming here instead of Chlo Buster: Not to speak of the devil 'cause fuck knows when she'll appear Rio: She did stumble out a while ago so Rio: probably soon, assuming she ain't fallen in the river Buster: I ain't that lucky Buster: Had my share for tonight anyway, like Rio: I won't tell anyone you said that Rio: nothing but god given 🍀 Buster: Cheers Rio: People you don't wanna see are like buses forreal and the 2nd just showed up eurgh Rio: Don't get the wrong idea, Chlo, not following you out but I gotta dash Buster: Who's got you running? Rio: Just someone I owe a second date Buster: Where are you gonna go? Rio: Onto the next bar and hope I ain't been spotted Rio: though no one wants to leave so I'm gonna have to make new friends, cheers lads Buster: You could always come here Buster: Have a drink with me instead of for me Buster: And celebrate Chlo's impending departure Rio: Hmm Rio: How much space can you feasibly put between you and me, whilst still serving me a drink? Rio: 'Cos I don't trust myself at all Buster: Try me Rio: Alright, Tom Cruise 🍸 Rio: no need to try to impress me i'm there Buster: Yeah? Rio: Yeah Rio: Can always just go down on you Rio: Stealth mode Buster: Good to know you've got a plan Rio: Always thinking, babe Buster: Can't deny that I ain't Rio: Then you'll owe me for missed time and then some Buster: Fine Rio: Seal the deal when I get there, like Buster: Promise Rio: Promise Buster: How soon can you be here Rio: Gotta give Chlo time to get in and leave you alone, so you tell me Buster: Just come now Buster: I wanna see you before I have to her Rio: How we gonna explain that one? Rio: Unless you want me to hide Buster: She won't remember Rio: I think she will Rio: Stalker of the highest order Rio: shocked she even knew who I was Buster: You've got a point Buster: Fuck's sake Rio: I know, babe Buster: [An annoying amount of time later] Buster: Okay Rio: Persistent bitch Buster: I don't wanna talk about her any more Rio: We don't have to talk at all Buster: You reckon? Buster: When have you ever stayed that quiet Rio: Sounds like you missed me and all my talk Buster: Yeah Buster: I wanna hear everything you've got to say to me Rio: Okay, work on my whisper Buster: Not that you're gonna have long 'cause you're gonna hurry up, yeah? Rio: Duh Rio: Wish I could say the blue dress has made an reappearance alas Buster: I don't care Rio: Trust, gonna make sure you don't care about anything but what my mouth is doing Buster: Christ Rio: I missed you so much Buster: I can't wait to show you how much I missed you too

[lolcat76]

Sarcastic/snarky commentators Bill/Laura either during movie night to boost morale in canon (frustrated with being stuck with trash bc who remembers quality movies for the end of the world?) or an AU where their original movie wouldn't play on the projector and they can't choose the movie they get a voucher for.

At first, Lee calledevery Friday night at exactly 1900 hours. Bill respected the precise timing ofthe calls – he could wrap up his work on his model ship, throw the day’s dishesinto the dishwasher and have a glass of Scotch while he waited for his son’sturn at phone privileges. Given that they’d barely spoken in the two yearsbefore his retirement party, when they’d both gotten drunk and yelled at eachother for the better part of what was supposed to be a celebration, Bill wasgrateful for the fifteen minutes or so Lee could spare out of his dutyschedule. He was more than happy to clear his busy schedule of puttering aroundhis apartment and looking for meaningful ways to fill the hours in his day thathe could share with his son.

As the weeks turned intomonths, the calls got shorter and turned into a quick check-in. You doing ok, Dad? Anything going on?People are waiting, and I have to go.

He was doing just fine, andnothing was going on. The people that were waiting were clearly waiting on hisson to finish up his duty call and get back to the action, if the muffledgiggling and shouting he heard in the background was any indication.

Well, good for Lee.Being stuck out at sea for nine months of the year was no reason not to enjoyhimself. Just because Bill spent his time on his ships worrying about the wifeand kids he left behind was no reason for Lee, still young and single, not todo all the things that Bill pretended he didn’t see or hear back in the daywhen he was Lee’s age.

“Dad, can I call you onMonday instead? We’re a little…busy on Friday nights.”

No, no reason at all forLee to plan his schedule around his old man. “Monday’s fine, son. Be careful.”

He was too old to beupset about his Friday night plans being cancelled, but Bill still foundhimself at a loss. After retiring, every day was much like the other, but thekid in him still wanted a reason to look forward to Friday nights.

He could work on hisship. He could read. He could dig through the collection of movies that satgathering dust on his shelf.

He could go out, find a bite to eat, maybe see what Friday nights onCapitol Hill looked like.

Friday nights on CapitolHill looked like Friday nights everywhere else. Bars were full, kids weredrunk, and old men like him should be at home with their families. His usualWednesday night joint was packed with coeds from the university, and he’dbarely managed to make it through his burger and beer before a group of girlsshrieked in his ear for a round of lemon drops. Joe waved away his cash.

“I’ll cover it thistime. Betting I had a better night tonight than you did.”

The girls leaning overhis stool, tits pushed up to their chins, had no interest in an old man butthey sure looked friendly toward the bartender. He wouldn’t take that bet. Billthrew a ten-dollar bill on the counter and grabbed his coat. Spring nights inSeattle were milder than they were in New Jersey, where he grew up, but itstill got a hell of a lot colder here than it did in the Persian Gulf.

He checked his watch ashe left the bar. 2100. Even after eight months of retirement, his body stillhadn’t given in to civilian life, and he knew he still had a good three hoursbefore he’d be able to fall asleep. Maybe a walk would do him good. Theneighborhood was still awake, at least. Maybe, if he told Lee he’d spent hisFriday night on the town, his son wouldn’t sound so pitying on the phone.

There were worse things to wish for, after all.

He found himself infront of a movie theater, one that had old neon and an Art Deco tower. Itreminded him of summers with his father in in Miami, when his old man took himto the movies because he had no idea what to say to the son who’d become astranger after the divorce. Several of the letters in the marquis were burnedout, and the façade had seen better days. The theatre was past its prime andbarely hanging on, just like him.

Bl de R nner

Blade Runner? He hadn’t seen that movie in years. It was worth a fewbucks, Harrison Ford and some robots and a plot that he couldn’t quiteremember. Didn’t end well, but then, did anything?

He’d read Philip K.Dick, years ago, when he was stuck on his first carrier ship and had a CO wholiked to read. Colonel Massey used to leave books lying around the mess hall,and Bill was the only private who picked them up and took them to his quarters.He had nothing else to do while he daydreamed about his girl at home in Norfolk,so he read Dick, and Marlowe, and DeLillo and Atwood for good measure. He readwhatever he could get his hands on.

In those days, it wasthe Commies they feared, but when he fell asleep on his narrow bunk, he dreamedof dystopias, of robots taking control.

Now, the news was fullof Islamic terrorists and the wall between Mexico and the US, but he looked upat that neon sign and remembered the nightmares he used to have of steel,inhuman bodies with glowing red eyes.

Fiction.

He could use a good doseof fiction, a reminder that the androids he still dreamed about were dreamed upsomewhere a good thousand miles south of Seattle. He bought a ticket and asmall bucket of popcorn.

Bill was halfway throughhis popcorn when the projector started to slow and then stalled, the filmmelting against the bulb in the projector. No wonder the ticket was only threebucks – they couldn’t even afford a digital projector.

The crowd started toboo, tossing half-burnt popcorn kernels at the screen. His ticket cost threebucks; his popcorn cost six. It was likely to be the best meal he had allnight, so he folded the corners of the bag down and tucked it into his jacket.

Most of the audiencecrowded the poor kid handing out vouchers for a free movie, and Bill hung back,waiting for people to clear out. He’d seen Blade Runner a good five times bynow, and he’d only come tonight because he had nothing better to do. By thetime he made it up to the usher with the vouchers in his hand, it was just Billand one other movie patron.

She wasn’t the usualCapitol Hill crowd; the lines on her face as she smiled at the usher told himshe was closer to his age than not. She was tucked into a too-big khaki jacketand nursing an overpriced soda, and he waved at her to allow her to go in frontof him.

“Ma’am,” the kid said ashe pulled a voucher off the pad in his hands, and Bill blanched at thecondescending tone.

“Sir,” the kidcontinued. He pressed a voucher in Bill’s hand, and Bill had to fight back theurge to pop the kid in the face. Being called Sir by his crew was fine; beingcalled Sir by a kid at the movie theater was insulting, and it made him feelold.

“God, I feel old,” shewhispered as he followed her down the hallway to the theatre’s lobby. “Ma’am?And here I thought I was living on the edge by going to a movie on a Fridaynight.”

“Maybe the problem isgoing to a movie that was made 30 years ago,” he said.

“Maybe,” sheacknowledged, “I’m pretty sure most of the audience here tonight weren’t made30 years ago either.”

He laughed, taken bysurprise at her sharp comment. She wasn’t wrong.

“Cheer up,” he said. “Maybenext week it’ll be a second-run superhero movie.”

She hummed in response,sending a thrill up his spine. The last time he’d had such a visceral reactionto a vibration like that, he’d been shipboard for three weeks and knee-deep ina training exercise about deepwater missiles ricocheting off his submarine.Same frequency, same depth charge. Same feeling of the hairs on the back of hisneck standing at attention.

Same little voice in hishead whispering to him about danger and covering his ass.

“I never really likedthis movie,” she whispered, her voice taking on a conspirational tone as sheslowed to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “Always liked Philip K. Dick, butHarrison Ford? He’s Luke Skywalker or Indiana Jones.”

“Don’t let him hear yousay that,” he said, and he was pleasantly surprised that she snorted a laugh inresponse.

“Something tells me I’msafe there,” she said.

“If you don’t like themovie, why did you come tonight?”

She shrugged. “Apparently,sitting at home on a Friday night is pathetic.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Hepushed open the door that led to Broadway and laid a hand on the small of herback to guide her through. “And seeing a movie that you hate, not to mentionpaying too much for a soda, isn’t?”

She pulled up the hoodon her jacket to cover her hair from Seattle’s ever-present rain. It was ashame, he thought. He’d caught just enough of a glimpse of her hair as theypassed through the hallway to want to see what it looked like under thestreetlights. He couldn’t tell if it was brown, or red, or something inbetween, but he could tell that it was long and curled against her shoulders.He wanted to see more of it. He wanted to see more of her.

She looked up at himfrom under her hood and pulled her glasses off her face, tucking them in herjacket pocket. He couldn’t see her hair under the streetlights, but he couldmake out her eyes – he’d never seen eyes that shade of green before. “Sometimesit’s good to get out of the house, even if you’re paying too much for a soda-“she tapped his jacket, where the edges of his popcorn peeked out – “or a snack.”

“Or dinner?” he asked.

“I ate before I came,”she said. “Dinner, at least, was free.”

“That’s too bad, becauseI didn’t eat before the show,” he lied smoothly, “and I have to admit, I’venever met anyone who knew that Blade Runner was a book before it was a movie.”

“You need to meet abetter class of people.”

Wasn’t that the truth. “There’s a little Mexican restaurant down theblock. Best tacos in Seattle. I bet, if we ask nicely, they’ll even let you inwith that jumbo soda of yours. What do you say? Want to talk about books andHarrison Ford?”

She pushed the hood backjust enough so that she could study him thoroughly, and he caught the glint ofstreetlights in her bangs. Red, her hairwas red.

“Depends on how youanswer the next question. Indiana Jones or Han Solo?”

He brushed her bangs offher forehead and pulled the hood back to cover her from the steady drizzle. “MarionRavenwood or Princess Leia,” he said. “I’ve always been a sucker for a woman incharge.”

She laughed at that,then tucked her hand into his arm. “Good answer. And because I’m in charge, we’regoing for Chinese, not tacos.”

He tossed his leftoverpopcorn and her cup of soda in the trash as they dodged college kids and drunkidiots along the bars and clubs of Broadway. “That sounds good to me,” he said.

She grinned up at him,her smile barely visible under her hood. “it is good,” she echoed.

Better than good, he thought as he pulled out her chair in therestaurant she picked. Better than good,he thought as she tugged her jacket off her shoulders and revealed a deep redsweater that set off her ivory skin and green eyes. Better than good, as she teased him about the menu and orderedwine and dinner, promising him that he could be in charge for dessert. Betterthan good. Perfect.

Tomorrow, he’d call Leeand thank him. Tonight, he’d enjoy every second he got to spend with the womanacross from him.

He raised his glass. “Togood things,” he said.

She touched her glass tohis. “To bad movies.”

He watched her as shesipped her wine, then reached over to cover her free hand with his. “To nextweek.”

She laced her fingersthrough his. “To Friday nights.”

To Friday nights.Definitely, he was going to call Lee tomorrow and thank him, because for thefirst time in years, he was pretty sure he was going to plan on Friday nightsthat didn’t involve his son.

“To Friday nights,” he echoed, and squeezed her fingers.