#and story 2 is shaping up to be much longer than i thought

[fiddles-ifs]

Belated Greenwarden Update and Changes to the Patreon

Hey-o!!! Technically it's still the 30th here, but I'd rather not leave everybody high and dry -- Greenwarden will update tomorrow, August 31st, after I've had some time to edit this month's update.

I've also decided that, since the streams and Deep Lore Q&A have been... unsuccessful, I'm dropping the Director-tier from Patreon until the Alpha build. Operative and Hunter tiers will still be available, as will Bonus Content and voting!

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough. 

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…” 

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

��Milk’ 

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago  he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ‘The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

[leftneb]

Curiositas aka sirens!AU

in which Lando is a siren with species dysphoria and Oscar is the defintion of Just Some Guy, who happens to get caught up in Lando's mess. and obviously they fall in love along the way etc etc

I first posted about this idea over 2 months ago and I'm happy to announce that there is now a fic in the works!!! which will likely take at least another 2 months because goddamn the concept outgrew itself (as you can tell by the fact charles and max also, like, exist now) it's sitting at ~8k words rn, which is by far the longest thing I've ever written in my life already, but story isn't even close to being finished, so yeah it'll take a while lmao

for now though I have some character designs and lots of thoughts, which I'd like to share :3

ramblings about their individual designs and details below the cut!!

and massive thank you to my dear partner @lailau7904 for not only holding my hand through writing the fic so far but somehow being even more insane about this whole AU than I am???

LANDO

main character (and POV holder) his design isn't based on any real fish, closest resemblance is to a fake fishing lure (reference provided)

very little scarring despite sirens' hunting culture, some tiny cuts and scratches around the top of his tail from smuggling pretty stones and shards of glass

absurdly bright green scales (I really could've made him fluorescent but I think that would be overkill) which is absurdly shit for stealth purposes but good for catching the attention of potential victims

vague triangle shape language but in a semi-elegant way

doesn't eat fish and would rather not eat human either

MAX

fills the position of a leader in his and Lando's colony, inherited the role in his late teens but grew up to it pretty quickly

shark motif, all sharp and angular shapes, visibly intimidating

lots of scars collected during hunts, wounds covered over by red scales from Charles

his scales are pretty dark but they shine blue when the light hits them just right (plus Charles' scales are a bright red lmao, which is a bit suboptimal for stealth but he thinks it's worth it)

CHARLES

koi fish motif, soft and round shapes

no scarring at all

has known Max since they were kids but actually didn't meet Lando until their 20s despite Max and Lando being childhood best friends

considered legally dead by monegasque officials (this has lore reasons which I'm not about to spoil)

GENERAL NOTES

the AU plays in a modern setting, altough sirens are very behind on human technology

their gills are on the side of their ribs! they can also all breathe with their lungs above water

funky scales patterns on their torsos around "modified" areas such as their gills and back fin

they have no hands but don't let that fool you! I was simply too lazy to draw any, what you would see if I did draw them tho would include:

webbing between fingers!! matches the colour of fins

longer, and more solid, claw-like nails

wrinkled palms and fingertips

I really wanted to make Max and Charles' torsos more life accurate but could not be arsed, they all have Lando's body type, aka I've accidentally twinkified Charles and Max lmao

by now you might have noticed that there's no design for Oscar, and as much as I really want to make a siren design for him that would have some pretty heavy lore implications so I'm... hesitant to do so

other people on my sirenification waiting list are:

George Russell and Alex Albon (for the 2019 rookies circle to be complete)

Franco Colapinto (based purely off vibes)

the whole grid really god I'm so ill

for the record Logan is a human in this AU but he IS present fuck you James Vowles

you may have also noticed the papaya version I labeled as McLaren themed (this one is also the highest quality image I have in this thread if you're gonna do any zooming in please do it on this one,,,,)

all throughout writing and drawing I couldn't help but think about another banger siren!Lando fic: Salt Skin by @strawberry-daiquiris! in which Lando has orange slash papaya scales, which I just had to draw honestly

a lot of my design process was also inspired by a piece by @dumbf1sketches (it's somewhere in the pile of other gorgeous art in that post)

bonus underwater version of all of them because it wasn't bright enough for me to feel good about it being at the top but it's still like, the main colour example to my brain

TAGLIST(S)

AU @mintraindrop @cx-boxbox (I know the og post is from actual ages ago but you two were interested so I humbly offer you these crumbs)

ART @santongkabayo @cyclonixi @alto-the-avocado @loquarocoeur

people that put up with my ramblings on dc @lyslsstuff @peppysinc @girlrussell

[4doras]

it will always be you

han taesan x reader

academic rivals to lovers

genre: fluff

wc: 1,455

a/n: i was in a crazy writing mood so enjoy this!! i was planning on starting the anton smau but i felt like writing. this is my first au in a WHILE… so sorry if this has any typos or grammar mistakes since i didn’t proofread it. i don’t know if i’m really happy with this because i’m weirdly scared to publish this 😭 but nevertheless, enjoy reading 💕

You had a test tomorrow and you had been practicing for it for almost 2 weeks. You looked up from your book, checking the time on your digital clock, 2:47AM, it read. Your study session spanned for much longer than you hoped for. You sighed, closing your book and putting your pens back into the case. You tucked yourself into your warm bed, as you let your eyes close themselves.

You woke up four hours later, at the ripe hour of 6AM. You quickly checked your Instagram, seeing that your rival had posted a story, you clicked on it. It was a picture of his face at 5AM, oh how sweet he looked, from the way his hair was slightly disheveled but still kept tidily, his lips, the perfect shade of pink, so soft and kissable. Only if it wasn’t for his personality, only if he treated everyone like he treated you. The way he stupidly raised his eyebrows when his name was called as the top scorer instead of yours, a small smirk arising on the sides of his flawless lips. It provoked so many emotions in you, seeing his face so early in the morning. You put your phone down, took a quick shower, put on simple jewelry, and headed out the door.

You sat down in your seat, not long after, the boy of the hour joined you, weirdly enough, sat next to you. He made his existence more clear, as if you hadn’t been thinking about him the whole morning. The universe must be telling you something.

“You good?” he asked, oddly kind for his usual remarks. He snickered, “You don’t seem like you got enough sleep from the look of it.” His signature smirk plastered on his face. “Oh shut up, I was studying, Taesan.” you rolled your eyes back, thankful he hadn’t spoken about your attitude. “Dropped the last name?” he said, looking at you through the side of his eyes. You swear you heard him say a small “cute” under his breath. The small word made you burn up, why did you feel like this? Right next to him? He started to rummage through his bag, pulling out a little bottle, an energy boost. “I got it for myself, but, seems like you’ll need it more.” he says, propping it on your desk. “Thanks, I guess…” you were confused by the backhanded comment but grateful for the small act of kindness. You opened the bottle, taking the drink like a shot and feeling the taste flow through your throat. With that, you two kept quiet as more people bustled through the door.

You finished your test with a sigh. You made sure you put your name on it, as well as flicking through the papers to make sure you wrote an answer in all the questions and passed in your test. You packed your stuff back into your bag and left, but of course, not before Taesan caught up to you. “Hey, Y/n!” he smiled sweetly, him saying your name in such a way wasn’t good for you. You waited for him, standing still as he ran towards you. “How was the test?” he asked, passing you a candy while walking. A heart shaped candy. You couldn’t get your mind off of it, you thought about it while eating dinner, showering, you couldn’t even focus on your homework because your mind was busy, creating new ideas yet scrapping them, denying the thought of him liking you with a coincidence.

Your phone got a notification from an unknown number.

this is y/n, right?

yeah, who is this?

taesan :)

oh, how’d u get my number?

mmm a little bit of sneaking

???

kiddinggg i was looking at the board and it has the numbers of students who tutor

right. i forgot they did that… did u want tutoring?

nope, just wanted to talk to u, silly

wellllll i’m gonna study a bit so ttyl?

still studying? the test is over

i still wanna study for science, i’m not super familiar with the topic :(

i could help u

u wanna?

sureeee let’s call!!!

alright, but i look a bit weird so don’t judge

i’d never, ur too pretty

…

ok sorry let’s call

You and Taesan called. Something was so comforting about calling Taesan, maybe it was the way his voice sounded, his tone was gentle, much more different than when you two were bickering at school, or the way he helped you and made sure you understood everything well, it all made you feel so at home. Or maybe it was his perfectly sculpted face in juxtaposition with the oversized hoodie he seemed to wear. “Thank you, Taesan, and sorry for keeping you so long…” “No worries, Y/n, it was nice to keep you company. Well, goodnight Y/n, sleep well, yeah?” “Mhm, you too, Taesan.” you smiled at your phone, waving at Taesan as you ended your call, you closed your eyes with ease, smiling into your pillow as you recounted the moments you had with Taesan. Whatever happened to you hating him had somehow faded away, had it turned into love?

As you got into your seat, you saw Taesan comfortably sitting next to you. “Thank you for yesterday.” you smiled. “Hey, I told you, it’s no problem.” Your routine of staying quiet as more people entered the classroom resumed.

You got your math results back, your hands covered the results and in your head, counting down, you removed your hands to see your marks. 78%. 78%? You spent so long studying for your test for not even 80%? You held back tears, excusing yourself to the toilet.

The second you got outside of the school building, you sat on the benches outside, the tears started flowing. You couldn’t believe you spent so much time and energy, staying up for nothing. You felt so upset, how could you forgive yourself? Your moment was cutoff by a voice, Taesan’s voice. “Y/n? Are you okay?” he crouched down by your legs, looking up at you. “Taesan, I did so bad. I spent so long studying on this, for not even 80%? I seriously can’t believe myself.” you sobbed into your hands, as Taesan sat next to you, holding your shoulder. You looked at him, holding the silence as he fixed pieces of your hair, tucking them behind your ears. “Y/n, it’s okay. You did the best you could, and that’s all that matters. This one test won’t discard the work you’ve put in and will put in. Please, don’t worry.” he softly swiped away the tears that streamed down your cheek. He pulled you into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around you, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, taking in his scent.

You spent a couple minutes with Taesan, walking together so that no one would know you were crying. You re-entered your classroom and took a deep breath. You couldn’t bear spending any more time in that classroom, but you’d do it for Taesan.

After school ended, you got another notification from the unknown number, namely, Taesan. Before you answered his message, you wanted to change him contact.

wait let me change ur contact

ooh, what r u changing it to?

what do u want it to be? because i don’t know honestlyyy

can i ask u a question first?

shoot

can i be ur boyfriend? i mean, i want to at least!! also, sorry i’m asking online and not irl but i couldn’t catch u after school :(

actually? THE han taesan asking to be my boyfriend? (yes)

i thought u hated me

i thought i did too, but i realized it’s probably because i wanted to deny my feelings for u. and i haven’t been able to get u out of my mind

cute. well anyway, u should save me as “super sexy and cute boyfriend”

cute? sure. sexy? hmm

come onnnn pleaseee :)

save me as ”super smart and pretty girlfriend” then

ofc baby

BABH

BAHY

BABY

?? do u not like it

yes

wait no

i mean i love it

i love u, my super smart and pretty girlfriend

i love u, my super sexy and cute boyfriend.

The next day, you immediately went to Taesan, though he wasn't aware of your being. You gave him a small peck on the cheek and that had him turning around. "Hey, my boyfriend." you giggled with a sweet smile that made Taesan's eyes fill with love for you. "Hey, my girlfriend." he said, holding his hand out, waiting for yours to be in it.

[jaegerrb0mb]

Miss all American </3

Note: this is part two of my hot garbage fic

even if it hurts <3 and this one is just as bad and I also didn’t read over it as well.. 😐

Summary: Visiting her favorite cafe in japan reader runs into her ex bf

Warnings: jokes of being engaged, talks of marriage/having a baby, my horrible grammar, and somewhat fluff?

Pairing: ProHero! katsuki bakugou x ProHero! Fem Reader

"Hello, H/N, what can I get for you?" The cashier asks with an admiring expression, yet he is trying to play it cool that a top-ranking hero from the US is standing right in front of him. "Can I get a (your coffee or tea order) and one of those pumpkin muffins, please?" You point at the little dessert window and give the cashier a bright smile. "Yes, of course, Miss H/N," he says, moving quickly to make your order.

It’s been awhile since you were in Japan; in fact, you haven’t been here since graduation. You moved to the US quickly after finishing school when you heard there were more villains and not a lot of heroes out there, and you wanted to help in the most possible way, so you went abroad. You're out here visiting; it’s the first time you’ve been back to Japan in 5 years. You’ve been considering moving back, seeing as much as you missed it. Especially the cafe you’re in right now,

Taking a look around, it hasn’t changed one bit and still looks like it did when you were a teenager. Memories quickly flood your mind.

and you can’t help the bittersweet pain of nostalgia that burns through your chest.

"Here ya go!" The cashier hands you your order with a huge grin that pulls you out of your short thoughts. "Oh, thank you. How much will this be?" tilting your head to the side when he gives you a funny look. "Didn’t you hear me earlier? I said it was on the house." He laughs a bit at your confused expression. "Erm.. why?"

He leans over the counter a bit. "My family is from America; my mom told me a story about how you saved her life, so take it as my way of saying thank you." You smile softly at his words when he finishes. 'That explains why he recognizes me; I didn’t think anyone in Japan knew of me.

 

"Well, t-

 

"Heeey dynamight! Would you like your usual?" The cashier completely ignores you, focusing his attention fully on the male behind you. 'Dyna, wait, katsuki?' Quickly turning on your heels to face the man, it is in fact him and even more handsome than you remembered from your high school days. He’s wearing his hero uniform without the gauntlets, but it definitely has a lot of new upgrades. He's got a few scars on his arms and neck, some look old and some look more fresh; his hair is no longer the uneven choppy locks you used to love running your hands through; it's now an undercut, but the spikes still remain at the top; he always had a large, broad, and strong body, but now he looks more toned; his muscles are more defined, making him look in better shape than ever; he's a lot taller; and his eyes don’t hold as much hostility as before. He looks mature now. And a lot hotter if that were even possible.

"what’s the matter? never saw the No. 2 up close?" He taunts at you, but he gets no response except your dumbfounded expression. He steps a bit closer taking you in, his own eyes widen before turning to a more softer gaze, "l/n? Ain’t you some american hero now?" his voice is smooth as honey and It takes a second for you to gather your stunned self to try forming words "I am, I’m just visiting." he hums in response. "If you have time, I’d love to chat and catch up with you, Mr. No. 2," you joked before grabbing your stuff and making your way to a nearby table to sit so that you don’t hold up a line by the front.

Sipping from your drink and scrolling through social media on your phone, not really paying attention as you keep glancing up watching katsuki pay for his order until he finally makes his way over to you, now sitting across from you.

"So, what’s it like in America?" He asked, taking a sip of his own coffee and leaning over the table a bit. "It’s nice; I like it a lot, but I was actually thinking about- 

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He catches you off guard almost making you slice your finger as you were about to cut your pumpkin muffin. "Oh, straight to the point huh?" you laugh to play it cool, but your heart has been hammering in your chest since you laid eyes on him. "Just answ-

"no, I don’t.. I haven’t dated anyone cause I’ve been focusing on my hero work and it’s quite hard to find the time for it, you know? How bout you?" Sliding half of a muffin over to him. and taking a bite out of your half. something you always did as teenagers when the two of you came to this cafe in the middle of fall was split a pumpkin muffin. they were always out of them and you could never get your hands on them. and since you got the last one you decided to offer him half. it wasn’t anything special but you hoped it sparked the same nostalgia you’ve been feeling all day onto him. and you know it did when you catch the corners of his mouth quirk up into a small smile.

"I’m engaged."

His sentence throws you into a coughing fit as you look up to see him untuck a chain under his hero uniform from around his neck that holds a sliver ring, but he’s quick to tuck it back before you can even examine it.

he leans back crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk as he watches your coughing die down.  

"Oh, I-wow, congratulations, bakugou." Your smile is forced as you blink back tears from coughing and from pain before leaning down to take another sip of your drink, and he can tell your smile was fake as he begins to laugh. "No need to get jealous now; I’m messing with you." He untucks it again to show it to you.

It’s the promise ring you gave to him when you were 16.

You feel relieved, but your eyes still widen. "You kept it all this time? Why do you still wear it?" You quirk an eyebrow while watching as he takes a bite of his muffin and wait for him to answer.

"I guess to mess around with idiots like you." He finishes his coffee before he continues. "Well, to be honest, I never really could’ve found the heart to throw it, and it’s the only thing I've had from you since you left. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? You didn’t tell anyone, and you never called either. I had to find out from damn endeavor out of all people." He toys with the ring around his neck as you frown. "I couldn’t find the heart to say goodbye to you or our classmates. I felt like a jerk, but I knew it was for the better, at least at the time. I don’t know, Kats-Bakugou."

"You don’t have to correct yourself; you can call me by my first name, Miss American." He jokes, trying to make the conversation lighthearted while tucking the ring back once again. "What is your rank there anyway?"

"I’m the No. 2 hero, like you." You stick your tongue out at him before finishing the remains of your muffin. "Wow, with a brain like yours, I figured you’d be at least in the 50s," he smirked, making you lean over the table and hit him lightly. "You’re so mean, Katsuki," you pout playfully. "It’s called honesty, y/n." He laughs when you roll your eyes and slouch back in your chair. "You know you’re lucky you’re handsome, or I’d really be offended right now." You sip your drink. "Oh really? You think I’m handsome?" He rests his arms on the table, leaning forward. you smirk, coping his actions. "Yeah, but it’s too bad you’re engaged." You throw his joke back at him.

"Haha, so funny."

"You’re the one that said it, not me."

"Forget about that. Wanna come back to my place?"

"You shouldn’t cheat on your fiancé."

You smile playfully as he shakes his head, leaning in a bit more.

"The only woman I’d ever be engaged to is sitting right in front of me, but it’s too bad she decided to leave the day after graduation. not even caring to give me a phone call." he playfully clicks his tongue. "Yeah, but the phone works both ways," you shrug.

"doesn’t change the fact that you ruined my plan to take you back after school." He leans back in his chair, now crossing his arms once again. you scoffed. "That’s bullshit, and we both know that."

"Me asking you to be my wife was bullshit? I had the whole thing planned for how I was going to propose, and if you didn’t go Miss all American on me, I bet we’d be married with a baby on the way. That is what you wanted when we were together, right? to have a family young?" He makes a "tch" noise, tilting his head up at the ceiling, causing you to frown. "You shouldn’t joke about that, Katsuki."

He quickly turns his attention back to you.

"I never said I was." His words are followed by silence besides the other people around chatting, but still enough to leave thick tension in the air.

"Katsuki, I-

He suddenly reaches for your drink, taking a sip from it and taking you by surprise. "Hey! I never said you could-

"And it’s still not too late for that." his voice holding a deeper rasp as he clears his throat. "Listen, y/n, I’m going to be straight forward with you because there’s no reason for me to lie. I always loved you, and I never stopped loving you. I don’t care if you live in fuckin’ Guam, Canada, or wherever; I know I can make long-distance work for however long you want it to work. Remember back then when I said I’d take you back in a heartbeat? I still stand by that. So if you still want that future you planned with me, try giving me a call; it’s the same damn number I’ve always had." He places your drink down and gets up to leave, but you catch him by his wrist. "Didn’t you ask if I wanted to go back to your place?" giving him doe eyes while your fingers danced their way up his muscles. He leans down so he’s face-to-face with you. "Gotta finish patrol; don’t worry, babe; promise, as soon as I’m off the clock, I’ll take you there." He gives you a smug smile, turning back around to leave. You call out to him once more before he makes it through the door.

"Katsuki!" He stills but doesn’t turn. "I’m here for two weeks."

"Better be ready; I’ll make it worth your while."

With that, he went.

Tags: @sofilsword @the-dumpster-fire-of-life

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Shh! Pt. 2

Summary: The hangovers are very real for Dean and Y/N. Will they notice the artwork on the fridge?

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. This second part is pretty much all fluff too.

Word Count: 2,693 (This part was a bit longer than the first. Sorry!)

A/C: Okay, so the first part of Shh! was actually just supposed to be a one shot, fic request. But I got a fair few requests for a sequel about the morning after, and I wanted to know what happened too. So, here it is. Lol! I had a lot of fun writing the two parts to this little story. Hope you have fun reading them. ❤️

It was requested that I tag @arcannaa if I made a second part. So, here ya go, lovely. Let me know if you'd like to be added to one of the tag lists linked below. ❤️

Part 1 is here || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The Next Morning:

Dean's groan was deep and long and ended in one word. “Fuck.”

“Shh…” Y/N held her head in her hands as she sat up. “Why are you so loud?” She asked, and her voice sounded as dry and cracked as the Sahara. 

“No, you're so loud.” Was Dean's witty rejoinder as he sat up beside her.

They both turned their heads to look at each other and groaned again. Y/N looked around the room and her brow creased with confusion.

“Why am I here?”

Dean grunted. “I'm a little too hungover for an existential crisis.”

Y/N pursed her lips, side eyeing him. “No, idiot. I mean why am I here in your bed? Why aren't I in my own bed?”

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. “Well, your bed is about 2 hours away, which probably explains the sleepover.”

Y/N hummed her agreement and pointed at him, conceding the point. “Yeah, I guess neither of us was in the best shape to drive.” She paused and then scowled. “We didn't, right? I mean, we didn’t drive home.”

She squinted at Dean who was shaking his head. “Nooo…” His tone said that was impossible, but then he tilted his head. “Right? There’s no way we would have been that stupid.”

Y/N shook her head and then stopped when the room started spinning. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “No, we must have taken a cab. We must have.”

It was silent while both of them tried desperately to remember something from the night before.

Dean sat up straight. “Rainbow Connection!” He said suddenly.

Y/N turned to look at him again and one eye brow was raised. “Are you stroking out?”

Dean waved at her. “No, the cab. I remember we took a cab cause I remember being in it and singing ‘Rainbow Connection’.”  He closed his eyes. “I really don’t remember why though.”

Y/N gasped softly, remembering something. “Rambeau.” 

Dean opened his eyes to look at her and his expression was all confusion. “Uh…Rocky II. We just naming Stallone movies?”

Y/N made a sound of disgust. “No, B - E - A - U, Rambeau, not Rambo.” When Dean still just stared at her blankly, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “It was the driver’s name, remember. But you thought he -”

“ - said Rainbow!” Dean finished, snapping his fingers. “Right! That’s when we started singing it.” He nodded, happy with their mental sleuthing, and then he shook his head.

“Man, I hope we gave him a big tip.”

Y/N chuckled and then took a big breath. “K, I need coffee, stat. Like a vat of coffee, like, this is a  hook-it-to-my-veins kinda situation.”

Dean grunted his agreement and they both pushed themselves up from the bed with a painful groan. Dean grabbed Y/N’s wrist as they were leaving the room. “Wait, do you remember…did we talk to Sam last night?”

Y/N just shrugged. “Dude, I have no idea.”

“Huh…I feel like we did.” Dean said quietly as he padded towards the kitchen with Y/N trailing just behind him.

When they got to the kitchen Y/N collapsed onto one of the seats at the table and cradled her head in her hands.

Dean walked to the coffee maker and his face lit up. 

“Oh, thank god for a little brother who gets up at the butt crack of dawn to go running to nowhere in particular. He made the coffee already!” He grabbed two cups and brought them and the pot to the table. 

Y/N inhaled deeply, pulling the aroma of the coffee into her lungs. “Do you have cream?”

Dean made a face. “Cream? God no; this is a black coffee household, Y/N. You should know this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, of course. Only manly black coffee for the Winchesters. How foolish of me.”

Dean shot her a grin and nodded in the direction of the fridge. “Might be some milk in the fridge.”

Y/N groaned again as she dragged herself up and stumbled blindly towards the fridge. She looked back at Dean as she pulled open the door. “I swear to God it feels like my muscles are about two minutes away from seizing up all together.”

Dean chuckled as Y/N looked into the fridge and shook her head. “There is nothing resembling milk in this fridge.”

“In the back?”

“Dean, there is no ‘back’ to this fridge. You’ve got three beers and leftover pizza that’s harder than the cardboard box it’s in.” She said as she peered inside. As Dean began rummaging around at the coffee station, she picked up a piece of the pizza and banged the crust against the box.

“That’s just sad.” She muttered.

“Score!” Dean called out just as Y/N closed the fridge door. “Found something called Coffee Whitener! Not CoffeeMate, it’s literally just called coffee whitener.”

“Uh…Dean?”

Dean’s face fell into a frown. “Actually, I don’t know how old this is.”

“Dean.”

“Might be from the fifties.” Dean mumbled. “Cause for the life of me I can’t remember Sam or I ever buying -”

“Dean!” Y/N yelled.

Dean grimaced as her shout made his head pound. “What? Jesus, why are you yelling?”

Y/N was pointing at the fridge door. “What the fuck is this?”

Dean set down the coffee whitener and walked over. “What the fuck is what?”

Y/N just kept pointing as Dean came up beside her to see two wrinkled up pieces of paper stuck to the fridge.

As he read the words he felt his heart clench. He read both letters twice.

He looked at Y/N slowly and couldn’t read what her expression was saying. He shook his head. “I - I mean, I dunno. Where did they come from?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don't know, but that’s my handwriting and…that’s yours. Do you…I mean, do you remember writing them?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t remember. But, I mean…it must have…I mean, it had to be some kind of joke, right? Like we were messing around? Just some kind of drunken joke?”

Y/N was looking away from him, but he shrugged again. “I mean, don’t you think?”

She nodded and her face was scrunched up when she looked at him. “Had to be, right?”

He felt his heart plummet even as he nodded. “Right?”

“Yeah, we were just being stupid, fucking around.” She concluded quietly.

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for a minute before Y/N pointed towards the table. “So, did you say something about 1950’s coffee whitener?”

Dean forced a chuckle. “Yeah, come try it out, if you dare.”

They sat at the table and Dean poured them both coffee. In the end, Y/N just took a bit of sugar in hers, not willing to be a guinea pig for the decades old, mostly chemicals coffee whitener. 

Silence reigned between them, neither of them able to push aside the words in the letters. Finally, Y/N couldn’t take the awkwardness and, pushing her coffee cup aside, she stood up.

“I should probably get going. I gotta shower and change and, you know, try to feel like a human again.” She said with a stilted laugh.

Dean nodded. “Yeah for sure. I’ll drive you.”

Y/N waved him down as he started to stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take the bus. There’s one that comes at 11:00. I’ve taken it before.”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would you take the bus when I can just drive you.”

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears nervously. She knew she wouldn't survive a two hour car ride, sitting so close to him but knowing she was never going to get any closer.

...it had to be some kind of joke, right? Dean's dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

So, she shook her head at him. “No, it’s okay. This way you can just rest and feel better. I like the bus. You know, I just put my music on and chill the whole way.”

“Right.” Dean said sardonically, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Cause you know, if I drove you, we’d definitely be listening to an audio book about the sixteenth century Christian Reformation. No music in my car.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “No, I know…but…”

Dean just nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Well, have a good two hour bus ride, I guess.”

Y/N smiled. “I will. I’ll uh…I’ll call you.”

“M’kay.”

Y/N cleared her throat. “See ya.” She said with another plastered-on-smile as she left the kitchen.

“Yeah, see ya.” Dean answered quietly.

About an hour later Dean was still sitting at the kitchen table nursing an ice cold black coffee when he heard the bunker door slam. A minute later Sam walked into the kitchen in his running clothes, sweating and still breathing deeply. 

He went to the sink to fill up his water bottle as he looked back at Dean with a smirk. “You look ill.” Dean just grunted and Sam chuckled as he took a sip of water. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

“Went home.” Dean answered shortly.

Sam frowned looking towards the fridge where the letters still hung.  “Didn’t you guys see the letters?”

Dean’s head came up quickly and he stared at Sam. “What do you mean? Why do you know about them?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who the hell do you think hung them up there?”

Dean shook his head, anger in his expression. “Why the fuck would you do something like that? Y/N saw them and freaked.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you. She saw what I wrote and couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Wouldn’t even take a ride home.” Dean said sullenly.

Sam set his water bottle down on the island, hard. “Oh my god!” He growled. “I might actually strangle you both.” When Dean just continued to frown at him, Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you each read the other’s letter? You guys wrote essentially the same thing to each other. Because you’re both so into each other. Jesus Christ.”

He pushed two hands through his damp hair. “I figured once you both saw it written out right in front of you, you’d realize that you’re both a couple of dumbasses!”

Dean shook his head. “No, she didn’t mean what she wrote. She thought it was some kind of drunken joke.”

Sam scowled. “She told you it was just a joke? She remembered writing her letter?”

“No, but I asked if she thought it was a joke and she said yeah, it had to be. Had to be because she has no interest in me like that.”

“Did she actually say that?” Sam asked, speaking over the end of Dean’s sentence, “Or did she just go along with you when you suggested it was a joke, because that’s what she thought you thought?” 

When Dean didn’t answer Sam growled again in frustration. “For fuck’s sake this is ridiculous. I’m just gonna spell it out for you.” He walked over to stand in front of Dean at the table. “Y/N is madly in love with you.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam sliced his hand through the air. “No, shut up. She is in love with you and you are in love with her, and if you asked one single other person who knows you both, they’ll tell you the exact same thing. Because it is glaringly, abundantly, stupidly obvious, you dumbass. Now go find her at the station, tell her the truth and watch how quickly she tells you she feels the same.”

Dean was frowning. “That's not gonna happen.” But he could feel a spark of hope at his brother’s certainty.

Sam just glared. 

He threw up his hands. “Okay, I’ll go.” He stood up and walked towards the door, stopping on the top step to look back at Sam. “But when she rips my heart out and I lose my best friend, you’re gonna be the one who has to deal with me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed. “Go.”

All the way to the bus station, Dean was running through scenarios in his mind. As he parked outside, his watch said 10:50; was she already gonna be on the bus? Would it be like one of those horrible romcom things, where he had to chase her down through the crowd and then confess his love on a bus full of people. And if he did that, was Sam right? Would she love him back, or was it going to end up as - less funny romcom, more tragic farce? 

He had the scenario half imagined in his head, but when he walked through the doors he was reminded that the Lebanon bus station was actually quite small so, no running from terminal to terminal looking for her. There were only two bus stalls outside to begin with, but also, she was sitting calmly on a bench just across from the door.

He walked towards her and her eyes got wide.

Fuck, I can’t do this. Why the fuck am I doing this? Dean thought over and over.

He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him, her face puzzled. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked up on to the balls of his feet; he shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought…I really wanna give you a ride home.”

Y/N frowned and lifted a hand towards the small ticket office. “I already bought my ticket.”

“Well, get a refund.”

“Why do you want to drive me home so badly?” Y/N asked loudly, frustration tinting her words.

“Why don’t you want me to?” Dean answered even louder.

Y/N let out a huff of air. “I don’t want you to not…I don’t not want…I want not t -” She broke off with a cry of frustration. “Ugh!!”

She looked up at him and her gaze was confused and questioning. “Dean, what is going on here?”

Dean shuffled from foot to foot for a minute, until Y/N started to speak again and he cut her off.

“The letter was true.”

He spoke quietly and he wondered if she’d heard him. He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to say it again; as it was, he was staring at the ground, his stomach in knots.

“What?”

He shook his head and finally just decided it was all or nothing.

“My letter. What I wrote. It was true. I mean, it was drunken idiocy, but…” He raised his head and looked at her. “It was true.”

“Really?” 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught relief in her voice, so he smiled at her and gave a resigned nod. 

“Yep. You are my good day.” He said, paraphrasing his letter. “I want kisses from you.” He paused a beat. “And also sex.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry.”

Y/N’s smile was bright and beautiful as she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank god.” She bit her bottom lip and then quoted her letter. “I hope you will kiss me. All the time.”

Dean felt like his chest might actually burst from happiness as he grasped her waist and pulled her close. 

“I can do that.”

He pulled her tight against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that he’d waited for for a very long time. 

Y/N felt lightheaded with joy and with the headiness of Dean’s kiss. His lips were soft and searching as they pressed tightly to hers, and she opened to him immediately, reveling in the deep groan that tumbled out of him as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth. 

They clung to each other, endlessly kissing, sharing breath and stealing each other's moans. Neither of them were one hundred percent sure they weren’t just in a very vivid dream, but both of them were determined that if it was a dream, they didn’t want to wake up. 

The loudspeaker came on announcing that Y/N’s bus was boarding, but neither of them heard it, and neither of them cared. The ticket agent who’d sold her the ticket called out to her.

“Miss, your bus is leav-”

But her coworker interrupted her. “Shh! Are you crazy? Do you see the man kissing her? Trust me she does NOT want to be disturbed.”

She wasn't wrong.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you’re fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn’t want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn’t necessarily take husband’s feelings into account as well. This chapter had one of my favorite moments between the Reader and Kid Buggy which was mentioned in the request, and it was a part I wanted to make sure I got just right.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I’m just trying to vibe off what I’ve seen of Kid Buggy. I’m no expert. I’d protect that kid with my life. He’s so adorable. I also like the trope of “Meeting your self from another time” and “gets turned back into kid-self”. This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don’t know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them. Additional notes: Holy cow, thank you to everyone who's been reading this! I read every comment and tag and it warms my heart so much. I meant for this to be multi-chapter from the start, but I want to give a heads up that this is a short fic, probably no more than 5 chapters but I'm almost thinking of writing more on Buggy and his wife because I've liked what I started with them and have already been thinking of their story. Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue TAGLIST (just let me know if you want to be added!): @lostfirefly @misadventures0fdes @sylum @valen-yamyam16 @dohkyu @fluffybunnyu @skyofsteel @lavalampskyy

Chapter 3

Everything was going great after breakfast for a little bit. The kid was fine to follow you around to help you with your own chores, which right now was collecting anything that needed mending or washing. You had Buggy carry the basket of mending while you made your way across the deck and to the kitchen. The crew was out on deck, and while word got around of some kind of shape shifter on board (your husband was still not happy about your guest), this was the first time most of them were seeing their captain as a child. The kid ignored the staring as long as he could, but you could see it was getting to him.

The final straw was when you watched a crewman lean over to another, hearing him whisper, “He even has the big nose.”

You both heard it because no sooner did he finish his sentence that Buggy dropped the basket he was carrying and rushed over to the crewman, delivering a kick to his crotch. The crewman fell to the ground in pain and you managed to grab Buggy before he could kick him in the face, though a part of you wanted to allow it to happen.

“Don’t talk about my nose!” He shrieked, fighting against you as you hauled him away to the kitchen. You passed the captain on the way, giving him a look as you pulled the kid along. Your husband stood there, confused for a moment before turning to see the crewman on the ground. What just happened?

You sat Buggy down on a chair and knelt in front of him. It was a little surprising to see him crying. You expected more anger, shouting, maybe some punches being thrown. You shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He was a kid with kid emotions. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He rubbed his eyes, sniffling loudly.

“I th-thought I was the captain.” He choked out; you reached for one of the napkins left on the table from breakfast and put your hand on his cheek as you gently wiped the tears away. “Why would th-they talk about my nose?”

Your heart broke from that question. As an adult, your husband was still sensitive about his nose, had been since you first met him, but you couldn’t imagine going through childhood with those insecurities. And the fact you explained earlier that he became the captain of this ship just to have someone on the crew mention it so cruelly? It was horrible. 

“Because some of them are idiots.” You told him as you draped the napkin over your shoulder. “And I’ll throw them overboard once I make sure you’re okay. Now, do you want a hug?”

To your surprise he nodded, so you opened your arms and he fell into them, letting his head rest on your shoulder. You sat back on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you as you held him on your lap, rubbing his back slowly as he still sniffled. 

“So… did I miss something?”

You looked back toward the door and sighed when you saw your husband standing there. Kid Buggy ignored him, sniffling as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. You tightened your hold on the kid as you turned your attention back to him.

“One of your crewmen should be thrown overboard, Captain.” You told him, voice calm as you reached up to remove Kid Buggy’s hat so you could stroke his hair. He closed his eyes when you did that, relaxing in your embrace. You knew your husband liked having his hair stroked when he was upset, and you were pleased the kid was no different. “They need to learn when to keep their mouths shut.”

“Huhh…” Adult Buggy scratched the back of his head as he watched the scene in front of him. It was… weird but nice to see you comforting the kid like that. He didn’t remember ever really having that growing up. You were holding the kid so lovingly, not caring that your shirt was getting covered in tears and snot from him being so upset. 

“I’m sorry that idiot talked about your nose, sweetie.” You murmured to the kid in your arms, hugging him tighter. “It wasn’t right of him to do that.” 

Buggy stood there for another few minutes, watching you with him. You even gave the kid a forehead kiss, which the kid seemed fine with. He looked like he felt safe in your arms, and Buggy would know, having been there himself many times when he needed to feel safe and loved. It was just frustrating that he had to wait until meeting you to feel that way, having not ever really had that as a kid on a ship. Yet here you were, by chance now holding his kid self in your arms and comforting him when he was upset. Others would have just laughed about it, telling him to get over it, but you were apologetic to him and it wasn’t your fault it happened.

“Which one?” Adult Buggy asked; you looked up at him. “Which one said it?”

“The one that was on the ground, crying.” You replied as you rubbed Kid Buggy’s back gently. “Throw him overboard.”

Oh, he wouldn’t refuse a request like that from you. He stormed out of the kitchen, and as you tilted the kid’s face up, looking for more tears, you both heard a scream and a splash. You smiled and put your hand on his cheek, thumb stroking gently. You didn’t hear the captain return, but he remained quiet, watching from the doorway.

“No one else is going to say anything like that to you again on this ship, sweetie.” You assured him. “You’re safe with me, okay? I’ll hurt anyone who is mean to you, promise.”

“Okay…” Kid Buggy let his head drop back on your shoulder, sighing as he relaxed. You smiled and hugged him.

“Listen, I think your nose is cute.” You told him; he made a face and glanced up at you. “When I met my husband, it was the first thing I noticed about him and when I told him he was handsome he turned as red as his nose. I thought it was sweet, and to this day I still think it’s endearing.” You giggled at the face the kid was giving you. “What? I swear. I sometimes compliment him just to see how red he’ll get. It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“You’re so evil.” Your husband grumbled, startling the two of you.  Grinning, you turned to look at him, only to laugh when you saw him glaring at you so you just blew a kiss at him. “Are you saying you only love me for my nose?”

“One of the reasons.” You chuckled. “I also love how passionate you are, and how much you love me. Though your impulsiveness still catches me off guard sometimes, I can appreciate it.”

“I’m not impulsive!”

“You threw Buggy off the ship into the water just yesterday.” You reminded him. To your delight, your husband began to turn red in the face. “But you also stole me flowers a week ago because you saw me wearing a pink dress and you liked how they matched.”

“I’m about to throw you overboard.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked away, his face burning. You knew there was no threat to be had, he just said those things when he was feeling a little too much love from you. Buggy sighed heavily, shoulders dropping. Maybe he would regret offering this, but he was starting to feel a little better about this whole ordeal. “Kid, do you want a proper tour of the ship? I’m pretty sure you’re not a kelpie or anything else, so I think it’s safe for you to see everything.”

Kid Buggy made a face. He had already been around the ship with you, but you nudged him gently. This was at least a start. You wanted the kid to see what he grew up to become. “It’s okay, I think it’ll be fun for the two of you.”

“Can you come with me?” He asked you, clearly not wanting to be too far from you. It was sometimes difficult to think of a child as young as him being on a ship. You just wanted to hold him in your arms forever and protect him from anything that would hurt him, but that wasn’t realistic. Swallowing heavily, you nodded and he stood up from your lap, crossing his arms as he looked at the captain. “Promise you won’t throw me overboard?”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” Adult Buggy shot back, but you gave him that look and he immediately backtracked. “But I’ll fish you out if I accidentally knock you into the water.”

The kid seemed okay with that answer. You got to your feet and smoothed out Kid Buggy’s hair, it was a little smooshed from being against your shoulder. You handed him his hat back next, but when he didn’t take it you put it on his head for him. He made a face when you did that, and all you could do was giggle. You had seen that glare so much recently that you could only find it silly at this point.

The Captain rolled his eyes and started out of the kitchen while Kid Buggy took your hand and followed after him. You let him lead you, and once you caught up to your husband you linked arms with him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He looked away when you did that, mumbling something about needing to uphold an image around the crew. You weren’t really sure what that image was but you didn’t say anything. Once you got to the helm of the ship, the captain pulled away from you and in a dramatic and flashy fashion, spun around and threw his arms open, gesturing wildly to the kid.

“THIS! Is my ship!” He announced to Kid Buggy. “We are the Buggy Pirates, the fiercest and most dangerous crew on the East Blue! No one survives a meeting with us!”

You watched the entire interaction in amusement. The kid was getting into it, mouth running a million miles a minute as he asked Buggy question after question about everything. How long has he been a captain? What was it like being so feared? Was he going to become the next King of the Pirates, for real? 

It was cute and you trailed after them as Buggy led him down below to where some ammo was stored. The Buggy Balls concerned you a little bit, you didn’t want them to fire one off into the town on purpose or accident, and thankfully your husband did not offer a demonstration (though you thought you heard him say something along the lines of “we’ll fire one after the wife’s asleep”) of their destructive power. 

And your husband was eating up the attention from the kid. Adult Buggy was proud to talk about his accomplishments, flashy battles, everything and Kid Buggy was listening with fascination, occasionally looking at you for confirmation that he was being told the truth, and you’d just nod in agreement with whatever your husband was saying.

Once the three of you returned to the deck, Kid Buggy’s attention went to the Jolly Roger on the ship, looking at it in awe. It had a nose like his and people were scared when they saw that flag. That was so cool. With the brief distraction, you gave your husband a kiss on the cheek. 

“I love you, Buggy.” You said, smiling at him as he put his arm around you and tugged you closer. You were happy that the two seemed to be on even footing now. The kid was sassy, of course, but at least your husband didn’t even attempt to throw him overboard during their entire interaction this time. And it was nice to see your husband excited to show off his legacy to someone, even if it was to his child self. It looked like things were getting a bit easier between the two of them.

Looked like. Because no sooner did you think that, Kid Buggy came back to you two with a frown on his face. You immediately thought something was wrong, wondering if someone insulted him again, but he crossed his arms and looked up at Adult Buggy. 

“Where’s Shanks?” Kid Buggy asked. “As a grownup. Why isn’t he on this ship too?”

Oh shit. You looked at your husband. He stormed away last time he was asked that question, but this time he stood his ground, probably because you were right there beside him. His hand was on your shoulder, you reached up to touch it gently. The look on Adult Buggy’s face was a mix of anger and sadness, and you wondered if you needed to butt in and change the subject, but he finally spoke.

“His life went in another direction.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s not on this ship, he’s on his own.”

“What?” Kid Buggy frowned. “We’re not co-captains or anything?” He paused, looked at you then looked back at his adult self. “Are we still friends?”

The innocent question was a stab to your heart, but you couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Adult Buggy. His expression was unchanged, trying to think of a kid-friendly way to explain what happened, but was it right to tell him everything? Weren't there rules about this kind of thing, you don’t eat a butterfly in the past or something or it would change the future? Telling the kid his future was one thing, but about relationships? If he told Kid Buggy how his friendship fell apart, the betrayal, the hurt, could it end up that he changes this kid’s future, and in turn his own? What if he doesn’t become a captain, get his own ship? What if he didn’t meet you?

Adult Buggy took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. He didn’t know how to answer, but he had to say something. Both you and the kid were looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“He has his own ship.” Buggy repeated. “That’s all.”

Then he pulled away from you and walked away from the two of you, leaving you worried and Kid Buggy confused by the answer.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 22

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | AO3

-----

Hopper arrives the next morning with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, bustling his way inside and taking the coffee that Steve offers him with a grunt of thanks.

"You sure you don't want to press charges against that asshole?" Hopper asks.

Guess he saw Steve's car, then. The party'd helped clean up the paint on the driveway, but the tailight's still busted.

"Not yet. Might change my mind, depending on how today goes," Steve says.

It's surreal, watching Chief Hopper - former Chief Hopper - sitting in Steve Harrington's living room, drinking coffee. Eddie hasn't seen him since the pictures that circulated after Starcourt, and the guy looks… well. Hopper'd always been rough around the edges, but now he looks like he's just barely coming out of being in pretty rough shape.

He catches Eddie looking, and his eyes narrow for a moment before his gaze softens.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this, kid," Hopper says gruffly.

Eddie gives a little shrug. "I'm not."

Steve's head whips around to stare at him, holding his breath like he's waiting for something, and - oh.

"Not a lie, Stevie," he says, offering him a little smile.

"Yeah, I can see that," Steve grumbles. "Just wondering if you're the one who's had a few too many blows to the head now."

Hopper grimaces.

"I'm not saying I'm happy about being a suspected serial killer or nearly dying in the Upside Down, but look, this was going on under my nose this whole time. I'd rather be in the know than oblivious."

"Is it too much to ask for just one of you kids to not be eager to throw yourselves into this?" Hopper asks, but it's clearly the kind of question that doesn't need an answer.

Naturally, Eddie gives him one anyway.

"That's what happens when you give a party like us a real campaign to be a part of," he says, all wide grins and easy bravado and complete disregard for his own nightmares or exactly how many times he was convinced he was going to die.

Hopper looks at him like he's speaking French, then looks back at Steve.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He plays the same game the kids do. He runs their little club now."

"Great," Hopper groans, and Robin gives a little giggle snort.

There's a knock on the door, and even though they're expecting his uncle, Eddie has to fight the urge to duck down and hide.

He wonders when that's going to go away, if it ever will.

But sure enough, Steve comes back with Uncle Wayne in tow, who does a double take at seeing Hopper.

"Jesus Christ, Jim," his uncle says.

"Never thought you'd see my ugly mug again, huh?" Hopper asks with a little grin.

"It has been a lot quieter around with your occasional midnight calls," Uncle Wayne returns, taking it in stride.

Hopper snorts. "Bringing this one back to get him out of trouble's a far cry from what we've got now."

They turn to look at Eddie, and he flushes.

"Yeah, thank you, we're all aware I'm in a lot deeper than some illicit substance charges," he mutters. "Can we talk about what we're going to do to get me out of it?"

Hopper drains the rest of his coffee. "You and I are walking into the station together."

"Wait," Steve says, followed immediately by Robin asking, "What?"

"Are you guys ready for that?" Eddie adds.

Hopper snorts. "Ready to what, come back from the dead? Is anyone ready for that? Look, Murray says his contacts are as ready now as they're going to be in a few weeks, and I'm not waiting longer than that."

Eddie can hear the disdain dripping off the word contacts, and it makes him wonder once again who exactly this Murray guy is.

"If you walk in there, they're going to care a whole lot more about that than about Eddie," Steve says.

Hopper lifts his empty cup at him in a parody of a cheers. "That's the idea. They want a story, we give them a story."

"So, uh. What is our story, exactly?" Robin asks.

"I got injured really badly in the fire at Starcourt, and it wasn't until the government agents were doing clean up that I got found. I've been in a coma since then. I come back into town, and who do I find but Eddie Munson hiding out in my old cabin in the woods. I get him to tell me what happened, and convince him to turn himself in," Hopper says.

"And what am I supposed to say happened?" Eddie asks.

"Joyce says the truth, as much as possible. Henry Creel attacked you and Chrissy, and you barely made it out. You were hiding from both Creel and Jason Carver's little mob while Creel kept killing. You stumbled on this crew investigating, Creel attacked, and you and Steve fought him off right before the earthquake hit. That's what you told them at the hospital, isn't it?"

"Something like that, yeah," Steve says. "I don't think I said who it was, but I can't really remember. I wasn't exactly in top shape."

"Then Powell knows that much already. Callahan can hardly find the nose on his face, but Powell's probably been putting together some of the pieces. Eddie ran from the hospital when he got worried that Carver would find him there, and he's been hiding ever since," Hopper finishes.

"That… that could work, yeah," Eddie admits.

"And as long as you're vague, none of it will show up as a lie, Eds," Steve agrees.

Hopper fixes him with a sour look. "You are going in there to file a report about the damage to your property, and that's only because I know you won't stay home. You don't have to press charges, but you're putting that report on the record, and then you're sitting your ass down in that waiting room. Don't even think about coming back with me and Munson unless I call you, understand?"

Steve's expression has steadily been growing pissier, and now he just glares at Hopper. "Really, you're trying to make me stay on the bench now?"

"Someone has to, apparently!" Hopper retorts.

"If you think I'm not going to be right there with my soulmate-" Steve starts.

"If you think I'm letting you-" Hopper says over him.

"You can't treat me like I'm a kid!" Steve insists.

"I can if you're acting like one!" Hopper shouts.

"Jim!" Uncle Wayne cuts in sharply.

Hopper turns his glare onto him, but Uncle Wayne just stares right back at him, unimpressed. There's a stand off for a moment - Eddie looks between Steve and Robin, to find Steve deflating a little and Robin's expression etched in confusion.

After a moment, Hopper cuts his eyes away, back towards Steve. "Come with me for a minute," he says gruffly, stomping over to the other side of the room.

Steve tosses a conflicted look at Robin and Eddie, but goes with him, looking confused.

Uncle Wayne watches them for a moment, then, seemingly satisfied, ruffles Eddie's hair and says, "Coffee in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, uh, mugs in the cabinet above the sink," Eddie says, a little thrown.

Robin drops down onto the couch, and Eddie plops next to her, both of them just watching the quiet, terse conversation Steve and Hopper are having.

"I didn't know Steve and Hopper were that close," Eddie mutters.

Or, well - he knows what he assumed when he heard Steve talking about Hopper's adopted daughter, that it was his parents who were cozy with the chief of police, but clearly he was wrong.

Robin leans over, elbows propped up on her knees. "Steve said Hopper used to come by and check on him sometimes, in between things, but I'm not sure they were really, like, close?"

Eddie's brow furrows. "Then what's with the…" He gestures at Hopper awkwardly clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Robin grimaces a little. "Steve kind of made Joyce Byers cry when they got back."

"What? How?" And why the hell would that endear Steve to Hopper?

"He tried to apologize for not having a handle on things here." Robin rests her chin in her hand. "Said he knew they were counting on him, and he was sorry he let them down."

Of course he did. Eddie closes his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Steve."

Robin makes a little disgruntled sound that he's going to assume is agreement.

"We all made it out, though," Eddie says. "How is this time worse than the others?"

There's a thoughtful hum. "The gates have always been closed, before. I mean, kind of seems like they always keep coming back anyway, but at least before it felt like maybe this time it could really be it, it could be the end. We don't have that, now."

Now they know Vecna is still out there, biding his time. It's hard to imagine anything else, for Eddie, but if the others had actually thought it was over, had a bit of a reprieve - yeah, he can see how this would hit harder.

"And Steve is used to being the one who gets hit the hardest," Eddie says slowly.

But not this time. This time, he and Max got hurt, too.

"Mrs. Byers told Steve and Nancy that she knew she was leaving the kids in good hands when she left," Robin says. "So I think it made her realize how much pressure she put on them, and now her and Hopper feel guilty about it. Plus Hopper found out about the whole Steve being tortured last year thing."

Eddie manages not to wince, but only because it's Robin saying it. He bites his lip, weighing how much he wants Robin's opinion on this against talking about Steve's nightmares behind his back, but - it's Robin.

"I don't want him to have to be questioned with me," he says, all in a rush. "He says it'd be fine, but I'm worried it'll be too much like - that."

Robin's knee starts jiggling, and he leans against it to steady her.

"If their plan works, he won't have to," she says.

"But what if it doesn't? Do you really think he's just going to be fine?"

For a moment, he's not sure she's going to answer, but then she whispers, "No."

Shit, he knew it.

"Can't we do something?" he asks, a little desperate. "It's not worth it, Robin."

He pretends he doesn't know that sentence would be just as true if he'd said I instead of it.

He pretends even harder that she can't hear it anyway.

Robin watches him, something wary and considering in her eyes. She isn't distant, but she's just a touch more closed off than he's gotten used to.

It throws him for a moment before he realizes that Steve must have told her about how their conversation went last night. About how he broke her soulmate's heart, and here he is now acting like he has any right to try to protect it, like she and him are still a team when it comes to keeping Steve safe.

He almost pulls back, has a stammered withdrawal on the tip of his tongue, when her shoulder presses against his.

"Steve thinks it is," she says simply, like that's enough.

"Robin," he starts, but he doesn't know what else to say to that.

She's shaking her head like she's cutting him off anyway, though, so maybe it doesn't matter.

"I don't understand it," she says bluntly. "You want him, and he wants you, and frankly I think you need to get over Steve having two soulmates. But Steve says I'm being unreasonable, and I recognize that he may have a point given our current circumstances."

Eddie's temper flares. "That's easy for you to say," he snaps, only barely remembering to keep his voice down. "You have another soulmate out there, too. You don't know-"

He cuts off, and her eyes flash.

"What, Eddie? What don't I know?" she hisses.

"How it feels to know someone is the only one for you, but you're not the only one for them!" he hisses back. "Platonic, romantic, he's the only soulmate I've got, and I'm not-"

He cuts off again. It's never been a lie when he thought to himself that he loves the part of Steve that is Robin, or that he loves Robin, or that he wants both of them in his life, or even that he likes that Steve has another soulmate and that it's Robin.

But when he tries to tell himself he doesn't care that Steve has two soulmates and he has one, or that it doesn't affect him at all -

That part is a lie.

Their circumstances, as Robin put it, have meant that he's gotten in deep with them very quickly, that it's forced him to rapidly be okay with a scenario he never imagined, but it also means he hasn't had any time to really come to terms with it.

"I'm trying, okay?" he says. "I only have so much brain space, and it's been a little occupied with not dying and dodging murder charges."

She still looks a little puffed up at him, and for a moment he has the absurd thought of the two of them like a pair of cats, hissing and spitting at each other, and that - he shrinks in on himself, just a little, and she deflates.

"Don't do that," she grumbles. "Make yourself all small and sad. I'm not Steve, you can't sway me with that."

It kind of seems like he can, but he takes the tentative peace instead of teasing her about it.

"Thank you," he says instead.

Robin narrows her eyes at him. "For what?"

His brain shorts out for a moment.

"Uh," he says intelligently. "Fighting nice with me?"

She doesn't soften, exactly, but she does look a little sad.

"I don't - know how to do this," he admits. "I've never - okay, I've never a lot of things, but this." He gestures at him and Steve, and then him and her, and then him and her and Steve. "It means a lot that it's not screaming matches or burning bridges."

She blows out a huff of air. "Fine. You've got a reprieve, Munson, figure your shit out or I'm coming back for you. Now shut up, and let's keep you out of jail and Steve from getting handcuffs slapped on him."

–

Hopper drives him to the police station in silence.

Well, mostly silence. There's terrible music playing over the radio, and Hopper had initiated some stilted conversation going over their plan again, but after that?

Zilch.

Fortunately, it isn't a terribly long drive.

When they get there, though, Hopper shuts off the engine but doesn't get out yet.

Eddie manages to resist the urge to sit on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting.

"You didn't come all this way just to actually arrest me, right?" he jokes.

Or he tries to joke, but he's pretty sure it comes out a little nervous.

"What? No, come on," Hopper grumbles. "Look, I just want to make sure you know that you're walking out of there, all right? We go in together, we're leaving together."

"Why?" Eddie blurts out.

Hopper looks incredulously at him.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Eddie clarifies. "You guys used to bust me all the time, and I know you went lenient on me, but-"

"Munson," Hopper cuts off with a growl. "I'm not doing this for you. We're doing this because you didn't kill anyone, and you're stuck in this now. So you should shut up and accept it."

Eddie considers if it's worth pushing his luck.

Hopper apparently correctly interprets the look on his face, because rolls his eyes and shoves the door open, storming out and leaving Eddie scrambling to undo his seatbelt and follow him.

His uncle's truck is already there, and so is Steve's BMW, smashed tail light and all.

He lingers at the door, just briefly, trying to talk himself up - but then Hopper grabs the back of his shirt collar and yanks him inside.

Eddie's heart is pounding, and he automatically scans the room - sees his uncle talking to Flo, sees Steve leaning back in a chair with a folder in front of him, feels it calm his nerves just a little.

"Heard you lot were looking for the Munson kid," Hopper announces.

The station goes silent.

Eddie raises his hands up. "Well, officers, looks like you finally caught this outlaw."

Somewhat predictably, chaos erupts.

Callahan is struggling to bolt up and pull his gun at the same time, shouting, "On the ground, now!"

Flo is yelling, "His hands are up you idiot, don't you dare draw that weapon in here!"

Steve is scrambling to his feet, looking like he's going to bodily shove himself between Callahan and Eddie.

Hopper gets there first, though, stepping half in front of Eddie with a sigh.

"Powell?" he calls.

"Yeah, Chief?" Powell responds instinctively.

Hopper bares his teeth in something that might be a grin, nodding at him. "Not anymore. How about we talk in your office?"

"Seems best to me," Chief Powell agrees, then shouts, "Hey hey! All of you get back to work, I'm handling this."

Powell leads them back into the office, shutting the door behind them. Eddie glances back before he does, and can see absolutely no one getting back to work.

Eddie drops into one of the chairs, ready for more dramatics, but Powell isn't even looking at him.

Rude. How is he supposed to cover his nerves now?

"We thought you were dead, Jim," Powell says quietly.

"So did I, for a while," Hopper replies.

"What happened?" Powell asks.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at him. "You want the whole truth?"

Which is not at all what they agreed on, and Eddie sits up in alarm, but Hopper waves a hand at him.

"This have anything to do with Hawkins Lab again?" Powell asks tiredly.

Hopper looks at him pointedly.

Powell grimaces, sitting in the chair behind the desk. "Bare minimum, Hopper, I'm talking as few details as possible."

"You know Kline was into some shady shit. Turns out it was foreign shady shit. The Russians got real pissed off when they found out I was a part of blowing up their little copycat Hawkins Lab under the mall. I've been their guest up until a few weeks ago."

"Shit." Powell scrubs a hand over his face, looking at Hopper with obvious concern. "Jim-"

"It's done." Hopper pulls an envelope out of the inside of his jacket and tosses it on the desk. "What's important now is these murders."

"Let me guess." Powell says, nudging the envelope towards himself like it might blow up. "More Hawkins lab?"

"One of its former employees," Hopper says. "Henry Creel."

Powell looks up. "As in the Creel murders? The kid whose father killed their whole family?"

"Whole family but him," Hopper says. "He ended up working in the lab, until it shut down. Twisted little shit like that, no where to get out his sick little urges?"

"We got ourselves a serial killer," Powell says.

Hopper taps the envelope. "Employee record's all in there."

Powell rubs at his jaw, then finally looks at Eddie. "How'd you get involved?"

Eddie slouches down. "He wanted Chrissy. I didn't - I couldn't-"

"Wrong place, wrong time," Hopper cuts in. "Munson barely got out of there alive. He's been hiding this whole time."

"I knew what it looked like, okay?" Eddie snaps. "Carver and his crew were gunning after me. I tried to talk to him, to tell him I didn't do it, but he wouldn't stop. Said he was going to make sure I got what I deserved. It's why I left the hospital."

Powell leans forward a little. "How did you end up in the hospital?"

Eddie swallows. "Some of my friends were out in the woods where I was hiding, they found me. But Creel found us, too. He went after Max. Harrington and I tried to stop him, but-"

He shrugs, and lifts up his shirt to flash his bandages and healing injuries, then drops it down.

"Found him hiding out in my cabin when I got back," Hopper says dryly. "Munson's soulmate is ready to prove he's telling the truth, Powell. You really want to put two kids through that?"

Eddie jerks up, glaring at Hopper in betrayal - he thought they were both pretty on the same page about not involving Steve in this - but Powell just grimaces.

"Do I want to tell Lillian Harrington that her son waived his soulmate rights and we questioned him without a lawyer? Hell no."

Eddie gapes at him.

Powell fixes him with a look. "Steve Harrington carried you into that hospital, despite his injuries being so bad he collapsed right after. He was adamant about not pressing charges against Jason Carver, and now he's out there dithering about filing a report while you're telling me there's a soulmate waiting in the wings to swoop in? I wasn't born yesterday."

Eddie puffs himself up a little, ready to insist that Steve had nothing to do with this - as soon as he can figure out how to say it without lying - but Powell just waves a hand at him, almost exactly the same way Hopper'd done just a few minutes ago.

"I told Steve, you're not our top suspect anymore. We just wanted to ask you some questions."

Eddie shifts his weight. "And here I was getting used to being Hawkins Most Wanted."

Hopper groans. "Cut that shit out, kid."

Eddie looks back and forth between them. "So that - that's it? I can go?"

"I would suggest you don't leave town, but yes, you're not under arrest," Powell says, finally opening the envelope and looking through it. "Not a bad idea if you both make a statement I can give to the press, though."

Hopper hums. "How soon can they release it?"

Powell snorts. "Story like this? We're looking at six o'clock news tonight, front page tomorrow morning."

Hopper looks at him. "Kid."

Eddie fidgets with his wrist brace. He wants to ask if his uncle can come back - he wants to ask if Steve can come in, too, but he feels even more guilty about that, and he doesn't want to risk it even if Powell did say they wouldn't be questioning him.

So he sits up a little straighter and nods. "Yeah. I can do that."

–

When they're done, Hopper escorts him out of the station with one hand on his back, Uncle Wayne and Steve flanking him.

He can't help the choked laugh that bubbles up - he feels like a rockstar, getting ushered away from paparazzi by his security team.

"You should get out of here and lay low," Hopper says outside the station. "Press should be here soon. I'll stay, answer a few questions."

He heads back into the station, leaving Eddie outside with Uncle Wayne and Steve.

There's no one else out there, but the skin on the back of his neck prickles.

It's the longest he's stood outside in the middle of town in weeks.

Steve scrubs a hand over his jaw. "I'm gonna stay with Hopper," he says.

I don't think he should have to do it alone, Eddie hears, and he can't help but give a little snort at his soulmate's soft heart.

Like Eddie himself isn't just as bad.

"Here," Steve says, holding something out.

Eddie automatically reaches out to take it, and a key is pressed into his hand.

"Everyone's probably going to want to come over," he says. "You guys can let yourselves back in. Eds, I think there's lasagna in the freezer if you want to heat it up?"

"Yeah, it was there when I got the bacon out this morning," Eddie agrees, purposefully not looking at Uncle Wayne.

He doesn't want to see what his uncle's face is doing about him and Steve discussing what's in their freezer.

Steve's freezer, shit.

"You don't have to give me your key, man, Robin or someone'll let us in," Eddie says.

Steve's expression falls, just a little, but then his chin tilts back up. "No," he says softly. "That's yours. You can - I want you to stay. You don't have to, since you're not a fugitive, but I want you to."

Eddie's face heats up so fast he feels almost dizzy.

It feels stupid, knowing Steve, but somehow he hadn't planned on Steve wanting him to stay, too.

He risks sneaking a look at his uncle, who's looking back at him with his eyebrows raised and a little smirk.

"Course I'll stay," Eddie manages to get out. "At least until you get tired of me."

Steve brightens, then rolls his eyes. "Not going to happen," he replies, then seems to remember that Uncle Wayne is standing right there, because he turns to him. "You'd be welcome to stay, of course. I mean, Dustin kind of takes over one of the guest rooms whenever he can, but we have a second one."

A second one that no one's using, because Eddie's been sleeping with Steve, and now he's pretty sure his face couldn't get any redder.

He hopes that his uncle doesn't pick up the implications that Steve clearly isn't aware he's laying down, but unfortunately, Eddie can see Uncle Wayne's little smirk grow.

Still, he doesn't say anything about it.

"Thank you," his uncle says gruffly. "But I'm good at the hotel."

Steve heads back inside after Hopper, and Eddie follows his uncle to his truck.

"Not a word, old man," Eddie grumbles.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Uncle Wayne replies.

That doesn't stop him from laughing at him on the drive back, though.

Sure enough, Robin and Dustin are already there, and it's not long before everyone else shows up.

Including Joyce Byers, who hugs him long and tight and makes him have to excuse himself to go get the lasagna out of the freezer so he doesn't burst into tears.

Hopper and Steve both end up live on the six o'clock news. Chief Powell leads the press conference, and Hopper begrudgingly answers a handful of questions. He gives the coma story, talks about working with a private investigator friend to find out what happened during the time he was missing, reports that he has no current plans to retake the mantle of Chief of Police.

Hawkins has a fine one in Chief Powell, apparently, and Hopper wants to be with his family for now.

Chief Powell gives a brief update on the murder case, reporting that Eddie is no longer considered a suspect, and they have new evidence that points to Henry Creel, including several witnesses to the attacks.

Steve steps in only briefly to identify himself as one of them, stating that he was attacked by Henry Creel as well and can positively identify him. When asked how he survived, he shrugs and says he helped his friends fight him off, that it wasn't the first time they've all been in a dangerous situation.

The story ends with a picture of Eddie himself, the reporter stating again that no charges have been filed against him, and that -

That's it.

Eddie almost doesn't know what to do with himself.

The next few days are weird.

He still stays inside, most of the time, but he does go out a couple of times. With his uncle to get dinner, with Steve to the auto store to get a new tail light, with Hopper to sign a couple of more things at the station. Just enough to ease back into it, to remind the town that fuck you, he's still here.

Andy Johnson and Eric Carson stop by and apologize.

To Steve, which makes him all pissy, but Eddie thinks is frankly hilarious.

They promise they left right after they finished talking to Steve and Robin that night, and they had no idea that Jason was going to come back and mess with his car. They're not going to have anything to do with him until he gets his head back on straight.

Privately, he's not convinced Jason ever had his head on straight, but he doesn't do more than waggle his eyebrows significantly at Steve from where Andy and Eric can't see him.

Besides that, things are quiet.

Even though Eddie was kind of expecting something - there's no sign of Jason.

Up next: Eddie gets more orders to sort his shit out, so okay fine he guesses he has to

-----

Part 23

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[kaeyx]

Yan!Chuuya drabble - pt.2

Warnings: reader is gn, mentions of being wet but nothing else. Smut, noncon, somno, drugging, thigh fucking, mentions of kidnapping

Notes: I am absolutely obsessed with this man. No thoughts head empy

You're sitting in the armchair by the window, curled up with a book in your lap. Triumphantly he notices it's one of the new ones he got you, because he thought you'd like the story.

He's already jacked off twice today, heat pooling in his lower stomach as his thoughts returned to you again and again during work, when he ran errands after, when he cooked dinner. Chuuya's legs shook as he mixed another dose of the off white powder in with your food, the front of his pants already tight. Shamefully enough just the thought of you so limp, pliant and easy, warm under the covers of his bed, in his home, waiting for him, it makes his head spin. Chuuya knocks and waits for your quiet "come in".

"Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?" He says gently, setting the plate down on the desk, his eyes running over your figure.

You curl into yourself with a little frown, clutching the book tighter. You're no longer reading it, but still pretending to.

"I didn't do much today." You're in shorts. Shorts and a shirt that slips off one shoulder and to Chuuya that's more delectable than anything he could have dressed you in himself. "Just papers, really. I'm glad you're enjoying your book." He sticks his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit, thanking everything that it's a little big on him.

You turn your head away, looking out across the shining lights of Yokohama. He wishes more than anything that you'd just smile at him, say hi in passing like you used to do.

"Sleep well, doll. And eat before the food goes cold." Chuuya says gently, slipping back out of your room and sliding the lock closed.

He sprawls out on the couch after pouring himself some wine, sighing deeply and brushing some hair from his forehead. The pain and regret are a dull twinge by now, lingering in his heart but overshadowed by the vision of you. If only one day you could greet him with a smile. Chuuya eats in silence and downs another generous glass, pressing his thighs together every so often. You'd be eating too by now. And the little surprise would take effect soon after that. He feels another throb in his pants and sighs, eyeing the clock on the wall. Not yet. The last thing he wants to do is scare you. He washes up while he waits, leaving the dishes to dry as he strains his ears for any noise.

The darkened inside of his room is familiar, and your shape on the bed welcome. You seem to have only half covered yourself before passing out, and he carefully pulls the covers up your chest before sliding in behind you, to make sure you're warm.

"I'm back, doll," he murmurs, slipping an arm around your waist and slotting himself against you. "Sorry I got home so late. It's hell having all the finances in order at this time of year."

"Enough about that depressing shit though," Chuuya interrupts himself, squeezing you and kissing the back of your head. "Don't wanna think about that when I'm with you."

Carefully, reverently, he moves his hand down to your leg. Your shorts end and he meets the skin of your thigh, a sigh catching in his throat. His warm hand splays across your skin, his fingers flexing gently.

"You feel so nice..." he breathes against your skin, kissing the back of your neck, over the bump of your vertebrae. He's already begun to move without realising it, his hand sliding around to the inside of your thigh until he can just about trap his fingers between the soft flesh of your legs. He moves, drawing small circles with his hips and rubbing his length over the swell of your ass.

Chuuya has to muffle a groan into your shoulder, his whole body jerking forward and curling around you. He almost wants to keep going just like this, like last time, keep rutting against you until he can't anymore, but he can't waste the opportunity.

Very carefully he wriggles his sweatpants down to his knees, the action made more awkward because he refuses to pull away from you for even a second. As soon as he can he's nestling his cock against the backs of your thighs, whining at the feeling of skin on skin. It's a bit hard to move without any lube and he belatedly wishes he had some in reach but he's not going to go fetch it now, too intoxicated by your smell and your warm, soft thighs pressing against him.

A soft, musical moan vibrates in Chuuya's chest, his hips wriggling as he tries to slot himself between your thighs. One of his hands wraps around your knee and lifts your leg just enough to make space for himself, whining, pressing his trembling lips to the back of your neck.

"Oh, sweetheart," he groans, cock twitching uncontrollably. "You're so fucking good to me... so pretty.... so- oh- so good... Can't last when I'm thinking about you..."

His hair is in a tangle around you both, his pace getting choppy fast as your warm thighs hug his length. He can't move too fast or the friction will hurt which is just sending Chuuya into an agony of need, desperation pooling in his stomach.

"Gh- god, I wish you were awake." Another sigh and he bites his lip, his brows knitting together. "Wish I could fuck you like you deserve, spoil you so much... promise I'd take good care of you sweetheart, as much as you wanted." The promises are whispered against your neck as his voice begins to waver, his skin prickling, chest tight and warm with desperation.

"Wouldn't need lube, I'd make you so fuckin' wet..." Chuuya is rambling by now, nearly growling into your ear. Just a little more, just a few more strokes.

His cum splatters all over your thighs and the sheet, a breathless keen of your name being ripped from his throat as his hips twitch uncontrollably. Chuuya's breaths come short and sharp, gasping, his mouth pressed against you. He lets a few long, open-mouthed kisses linger on your shoulders as the high recedes and his bedroom swims back into focus. It's very warm under the covers now, almost uncomfortably so, but he doesn't have it in him to move just yet.

Chuuya lets your leg go and curls a hand possessively around your hip, massaging the soft flesh. He sighs contentedly, feeling the fuzzy buzz of ecstasy spreading through his entire body. He could almost fall asleep like this, your warm body tangled securely with his, his senses full of you. One day, one day he might.

[penultimatefan02]

A Penultimate Pen Theory.

Recently, @pentition posted a very insightful and thoughtful analysis regarding Pen’s potential future as a core romance candidate in an upcoming game. This gave me food for thought about Pen's future direction and how his past relationship with the Sandrock builder could come into play, or whether he should find love with a playable character in an upcoming game.

When I think about Pen’s future, I’m limited by the few crumbs Pathea has offered us to theorize about his history and motivations. It’s not much but there are tidbits that I’ve clung to that put me in the camp of “team Pen.” There are also a few Discord posts by zede05 that I’ve added to the tiny pile of details.

Some history to note is that players who participated in the MTAS early access may have a different opinion of Pen than late-comers due to Pen’s romance being a Kickstarter goal and not originally developed. Also, his character art was greatly improved after he was introduced (I’m basing this on Discord comments as I did not participate or see prior iterations of Pen). These details may put EA players in the “Pen’s romance and physical characteristics were an afterthought” camp, which is valid.

Regardless of the romance aspect, it was Pen’s story that was greatly developed. He was such a BIG character for 2/3 of MTAS. No one makes a character that big with that many parallels, hints, and ambiguities unless they plan to utilize them in the future. Pen may become a big deal, and his arc may likely have a strong emotional impact on the player.

The one thing we know is that Pathea can and may change their mind about storylines and character development based on player response. Many discussions regarding Pen’s future romance potential are read and possibly considered in how they will approach his story arc and resolution. The more we talk about it on Reddit and Discord, the more chance we have of helping to shape Pen’s outcome. Based on zede05’s comments, nothing is set in stone.

Now, with that said, I think the original direction they may have decided on, and why Pen was not a marriage candidate is because he’s going to take the true role of the anti-hero, and his ending will be his end. Please forgive me for typing it out, it’s not meant as a jinx, and I truly don’t want it to happen. However, I do think there is a strong possibility that the writers may decide or have already decided that this resolution needs to happen to counterbalance his actions in MTAS (and in future game(s) if he continues the villain path a while longer).

I’ve been wrong many times before, but I see Pen as being the main hero of the series at a great cost to himself. Aadit gets to go home, but Pen doesn’t. Pen may even be the one to save Aadit so he can return home to Portia’s builder.

Pathea doesn’t think players will be disappointed by “how” Pen ends up, not “where” Pen ends up. Granted, there are translations involved and they didn’t know whether Aadit would be the Rogue Knight or not by Portia’s end, so it’s all speculation. However, if Pen sacrifices himself for the greater good near the series end, zede05 would be right that we wouldn’t be disappointed. If anything, we would all be greatly moved by it and the emotional impact and payoff would be huge. Pen ends his story as a true hero.

I’m not sure how many games they plan for the series, but I’ll play the odds that Pen will be recurring until the end. I believe someone at Pathea mentioned using Marvel’s film series as a guideline for its continuing characters (in reference to Aadit and Pen).

To bring the discussion back to romance, I think Sandrock’s builder was the first time Pen ever felt something akin to affection or love. At the end of the Paradise Lost quest, we know he’s quite familiar with sex, but then sex doesn’t require emotions. He was unsure of what friendship was, and he didn’t understand the feelings he was left with after his dates with the builder. Pen only knew he liked it and wanted to spend more time with them. He comes off as very emotionally stunted, which aligns with his more narcissistic traits.

One comment that stood out to me was in response to a question about Pen becoming romanceable again in the future, zede05 replied, “But Pen only loves himself and his form of justice. Haha.” So, if anything, Pen must grow and learn to have concern for others not just himself. I think the builder’s relationship with him in Sandrock set that into motion, but we won’t know the impact until he’s reintroduced later on. While I wouldn’t be surprised if Sandrock’s builder has a role in his future, I believe at the very least they helped build the foundation for his potential redemption arc.

I don’t think Pathea will let him be romanced again until something happens to counterbalance his past crimes. So, if he does do the big thing to save the day and lives, then maybe the next game could see him become a marriage candidate. Although, I really like @pentition's idea of Pen heading off to find the builder or having them ride off into the sunset, preferably on Merle’s back. I’m a big fan of full-circle storylines, so Pen dating a new character comes off to me as slicing the pie in half and chucking it in the bin.

Regardless of what is to happen in the My Time series, we know that Pen will probably play a big role in it. I do hope that whatever road Pathea has laid out for him will ultimately lead to his redemption and that we are all left feeling proud of him and satisfied with his story.

Gosh, this was hard to write. @pentition, thank you for sharing your thoughts, which in turn gave me a bit of courage to share mine. I hope I'm not a total Debbie Downer on this topic.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

hi king how was the worm did you enjoy the worm how many Normal Feelings did that fucking d&d ending give you because they fucking. DEMOLISH me every time I think about it

I ENJOYED THE WORM I ENJOYED THE WORM SO FUCKING MUCH. GODDDD. SHAPE IM GOING TO THROW UP AND DIE BADLY. god. okay. alright. locking the fuck in im going to just rant about literally everything holy shit

ok so first of all taylor. TAYLOR. holy shit dude. girl who makes good decisions!!!!! sooo many good decisions!!! amy you have to alter my brain you have to do it to defeat scion you have to do it!!! im going to explode!!! taylor hebert thinking about how things could potentially help in the long term but never ever thinking about how her decisions effect people in the short term!!!! not thinking about how rachel and lisa and anyone else would feel seeing her ruin herself in a crazy attempt to get more powerful to defeat scion!!!!! GOD!!! and after the fact when she was talking with contessa, she admitted she would have done it differently. she REGRETTED IT. she has never ever admitted that she regretted any of her plans BUT SHE REGRETTED THIS ONE. SHE WOULD HAVE DONE IT DIFFERENTLY. HEAD IN FUCKING HANDS. TAYLOR HEBERT ADMITS SHE DID SOMETHING STUPID!!!!

and she's in another world with her dad now. hang on i sent messages 2 the hornfreaker discord that perfectly encapsulate my feelings about her i'll just put them here if i think about her for too long i feel like eating my carpet

ALSO DEFIANT. OKAY. DEFIANT. drives me fucking crazy that taylor was controlling all of the tinkers and having them make a huge fucking machine and the first time she had them use it she "gave defiant the honour of flicking the switch" <<EXACT PHRASING. like she KNEW that was something he'd want to do so she made him do it!!!!!! and i talked abt this in the discord too but i dont wanna scroll back that far to find my messages but when the tinkers left her influence they kept fucking building it!!!! and i just know defiant was the one to convince the others to keep working on it once she wasn't controlling them!!! i just fucking know it!!!! he would have been pissed about being controlled but he and taylor are So Fucking Similar he would have UNDERSTOOD what she was doing and pushed to make her plan happen. AND WHEN THE DEVICE WAS READY. HE WAS THE ONE AT THE SWITCH AGAIN. BUT WILLINGLY THIS TIME. THAT DRIVES ME FUCKING CRAZY. the story started because of taylor and colin and it fucking ended because of taylor and colin. it started with them at odds and ended because of them working together. AUGHHHHH

AND D&D OUAGHHGHHHHH THEYRE SO FUCKING. IMPORTANT TO ME. SHE'S FREE NOW. SHE'S FUCKING FREE. NO TEACHER IN HER CODE NO ONE FUCKING AROUND WITH HER MIND ANYMORE. NO ONE CHANGING HER AGAINST HER WILL. SHE'S FREE AND DEFIANT FREED HER. BUT ALSO SHE FREED HERSELF BECAUSE SHE MERGED WITH PANDORA WHICH WAS LITERALLY AN EARLIER VERSION OF HERSELF. IM GONNA EAT LEAD. THEY DID IT. SHE'S FUCKING FREE. SHE CAN DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS NOW. dude if you had told me back when i was reading the aftermath of the leviathan fight that colin arm master wallis would be one of my favourite characters ever i would have spit on you and cursed your name and thrown you out a window or something. god. he and dragon are so everything to me. im gonna throw up and die. he's no longer zeus he's content being a hephaestus....... "my worst days with you are better than my best days alone" "you saved me" "i never thought i would be a cape wife" im going to eat my carpet

[allwormdiet]

Arc 2: Insinuation, Concluding Thoughts

God, was this arc just one day? You're telling me it's only been like 72 hours since the start of the story and where we're at now? It feels like so much more somehow, so I guess let's get digging

Let's do the broad strokes and then go chronological through the chapter details, I don't have any kind of structure or template for this stuff but that's as good a way as any right here

I know there's so much fucking ground left to cover, but at this point I think I'm confident enough to say that I like Worm. I don't know if I'd recommend it to a friend, exactly, because I think it's rude to trick someone into reading more than a million words and also because the list of content warnings I'd have to provide up front would run longer than my forearm (I knew what I was in for going in but I also made this choice mostly independently), but I feel like there's a difference between liking a work and recommending that work to others. I think Midsommar is one of the best horror movies I've ever seen, but it also removed all the oxygen from the living room where I watched it via sheer oppressive malice so I don't really tell people "oh you should watch Midsommar," y'know what I mean?

(I don't actually know if Worm is at any point going to fill me with the same kind of yawning dread that Midsommar inflicted, so this might not be an even parallel to draw, but I'm not going to completely dismiss the possibility)

More on topic though. No fight scenes this time, but that left more room for delicious and filling character interactions. I'm so on board with the Undersiders so quickly, I love them all, the things they're going to be made to suffer are going to agonize me for years to come I think.

It also left more room for Taylor's day at Winslow High, and... okay we'll get there. Let's do this chronologically.

The Hebert family feels like it's a broken heart in the shape of a house. I wish that they could reconcile with each other, but I don't know if they manage that, or if they even can manage it. I think Annette's death tore a wound between them that never fully healed, or maybe it was on the mend before Taylor started getting bullied and now that process has just stalled out

...Speaking of which

Winslow High is a fucking pit. Like Jesus fucking Christ that was so agonizing to read. Everyone at this school feels either useless or brimming with malice, and for the life of me I cannot puzzle out why. I mean, okay, I get the mechanisms at least, the main three girls are popular and Sophia is a Ward and with that together they can bend the students and faculty around like putty, people are often willing to go along with a heinous status quo if rocking the boat puts a target on their back, yadda yadda. But just. What the hell is going on with the main three girls? You could maybe read Sophia as some kind of sadist, but that doesn't explain why she's taking to this with such gusto, and I don't know if this kind of behavior wouldn't be caught out by the Protectorate if she's acting like this around other Wards. Madison I don't even know, so far I don't actually know if there's any meaningful depth there beyond acting as a complementary force to the other two.

Emma, though. Fucking Emma. I was just talking in an aside about how I distrust any argument that paints a mostly realistic teenager as some kind of soulless monster or evil mastermind, and I'm trying really hard to cleave to that, but I just don't get what drives Emma to behave like this, how she justifies it in her own head. She's torturing her best friend, she triggered her power's awakening for God's sake, and I just don't know what can happen in a week or month that could ever make this explicable or justifiable. Maybe I'll learn something that makes it all make sense but for now it's just some kind of incomprehensible monument of cruelty

That last twist of the knife with the line about crying to sleep at night is also just. God. Like, fucking credit to Wildbow, I feel some amount of stress writing about this all like the day after reading it, that was a really really well written sequence, I just also hated every word of it.

Let's change to a happier topic

Love the Undersiders, they're all great. I love that Brian works so hard to meet on a level playing field, to be open about expectations and show vulnerability to make Taylor feel more welcome, and I like how he seems to take pride in being The Normal & Responsible One even though I somehow doubt that's the case. I love Lisa being so friendly and so quick to assure Taylor about what's going on and what it all means for her, and I literally can't stop thinking about what she must be reading off of Taylor with her powers. Alec is a snarky little snot and I love that about him, I really want to see him open up further. And then Rachel... oh Rachel. You might end up being my favorite once we manage to move past the whole "siccing dogs on the new teammate" thing.

And now Taylor's a part of the crew, and she's immediately second-guessing this decision because she's realizing that it had deeper repercussions than she'd initially thought! Like she already felt betrayed by all of them over a slight from Rachel, even though her entire goal of joining them is as a means to take them down from the inside and hand them over to the Protectorate, and that irony is absolutely not lost on her! She's terrified of being found out as a rat but still lets herself be vulnerable around these people in a way she hasn't even allowed her dad to see, and before the Undersiders he was basically the only person she still trusted for anything.

This is like, either the best or worst decision of Taylor's life, I dunno which. I'd like to think best. I'd really like it to be best.

And I think I already said this but I could gorge myself on just reading about the Undersiders fighting and growing and bonding together for the entire length of this story, and I want it so bad, and I'm not getting it until I dig up the appropriate fanfiction to that end so I'm just gonna have to cope with that

Basically fell in love with Victoria the moment I met her, I wish her the best and hope she learns to cut down on the accidental spine-breaking (if she breaks a spine on purpose they probably deserved it)

Amy... at this point I mostly just feel bad for Amy. She's gonna do bad things and a lot of it's gonna be her own damn fault but somehow I doubt she was born a monster.

New Wave in general I get weird vibes from. Like the Protectorate are cops, yeah, and cops suck no matter the uniform, but New Wave does it with nobody watching over their shoulders to check their work except for each other, and we see in their first on-page appearance how that's kinda fucked up!

...Like the guy was a Nazi so fuck him, but I don't have full faith it'll be a Nazi every time, y'know? God knows there's every chance Glory Girl or Brandish or whoever else decides to play this kind of hardball with someone a lot less guilty and a lot more sympathetic

And then speaking of the repercussions of Taylor's actions, again I'm looking at the threat of destabilization and gang warfare facing the Docks and wondering how much of the story's escalating danger is going to be a natural response to her deeds. Somehow I don't think Leviathan's attack is going to be Taylor's fault, or that she called up the Slaughterhouse 9, but she keeps making calls that are good but have unintended and dangerous consequences.

Call me crazy but I don't think I'm gonna like what those consequences look like when she acts to save the world. I'd rather she be happy than the world's greatest hero, but she wasn't even happy before she became a cape, so. Maybe she gets a legacy in the doing.

If that falls through I guess I'll just go read more fanfic.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #2

Prompt #2: White

Emmet has been running the Battle Subway alone ever since his brother’s initial disappearance and while he’s elated that Ingo is finally back (and not quite ready to resume his work), he’s definitely… cautious about how the media will react.

Read the whole thing below the cut:

Emmet strode ahead, coffee in hand, sweeping Ingo along the memorized route that they often used to walk along the subway tunnels, never taking his hand off of his brother’s shoulder. They hadn’t gone very far- only half a mile or so.

“These are the service tunnels beneath the A-Line.” Emmet pointed down the corridor toward the servicing doors illuminated by a harsh blue light. “Those doors are connected to a separate line only for depot agents.”

“That, I remember.” Ingo peered closely at the painted-on signs along the way, leaning further into Emmet’s touch as they continued walking along the darkened tracks. “And these tracks are on both sides of the lines?”

“Only one side. Usually on the right,” Emmet responded. He was still reintroducing Ingo back to the subway after his brother’s… unexpected detour to a place he called Hisui. A place Emmet learned had actually been ancient Sinnoh a few hundred years prior.

Baby steps. That was what they were taking. While Ingo was nowhere near being able to comfortably resume his prior position as his battling partner in their workplace, Ingo had shown a rekindled passion for learning all about the muse that had haunted him throughout his entire time in Hisui. It was a step up; a major step up comparing things to when Ingo had been afraid to leave their shared home in Nimbasa, too afraid of the loud noises and flashing lights, likening them to some rather awful experiences in Hisui that had only ever graced Emmet’s ears on particularly bad nights.

Emmet’s Xtransceiver began to vibrate on his wrist. He was slow to pick it up. “I am Emmet.”

“Boss Emmet, this is Depot Agent Cloud,” came a low drawl from the other side of the phone. Emmet could immediately imagine the older man leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the table, probably watching the two of them stumble around the lower tunnels like two wayward Patrats. “Hey. Just thought I ought to let the two of you know; you’ve got lines buildin’ up on the platforms. May wanna get after it.”

“Lines?” Ingo repeatedly confusedly. “I shouldn’t have any lines- the singles, super singles, multi, and super multi are closed for the time being, are they not?”

“They are.” Emmet knew for a fact that they were supposed to be closed. He had mandated it. He had specifically signed the paperwork for it and had sent it to the mayor of Nimbasa and had the documents approved. Days ago. The paperwork mandated that every single advert for the Battle Subway was to be amended to reflect that in no way, shape or form was Ingo to be challenged or sought after for any purpose related to media.

In the past- when the shock of Ingo disappearing had softened ever so slightly- when Emmet was no longer going without food or missing debilitating amounts of sleep- he had begrudgingly allowed guest trainers to star along the multi-line with him if passengers demanded it: Elesa, his talented depot agents- even Burgh or Clay- the latter if he had gambled too much in Nimbasa the night prior.

“Cloud, can you disband the lines on the singles and multi lines?”

“We’ve tried,” Cloud retorted. “Both Cameron and Furze went over there to get ‘em to leave but they aint budgin’. Keep demanding to see Boss Ingo. Aren’t content with hearing the whole story about him not bein’ fightin’ fit. Think they’re entitled to him or something.”

Emmet pinched the bridge of his nose and stopped dead in his tracks, irritation causing his hands to shake. This is exactly why I should’ve closed the Battle Subway entirely… as much as it would have hurt. Working Gear Station paid more than enough, but the Battle Subway had been his and Emmet’s pet project since they had been kids. It had been their life’s work. To set it down for even a moment stung in such an indescribable way that even trying to comprehend the idea made Emmet nauseous.

“And I know you don’t wanna hear this…” Cloud continued, his words dragging along.

“… What. Is it. Cloud?”

“… A gaggle of news reporters are in the main lobby too. Waitin’ to pounce on your brother, it seems. Jackie’s havin’ an easy time rippin’ their ears off, but we’d appreciate some backup up here. But of course, we can call the police if you think it’s too much. None of the regular commuter lines have been disturbed by the gathering… so far.”

“Is that so?” Emmet’s hands were trembling.

Why couldn’t they just leave his brother alone? Why couldn’t they just let Ingo recuperate in peace? Ingo had brought a lot of things with him from Hisui. New pokémon. New experiences. New battling styles. New traumas.

Old diseases that modern medicine had eradicated decades prior. Scratches and scars and stiff joints. A posture that had at first made him appear shorter- one that physical therapy had slowly began to straighten out. It had been months since Ingo’s return- nearly a year- but Emmet wasn’t naïve enough to believe in the first place that Ingo would recover from his ordeal in a quick fashion. It would take a very long time before things ever began to resemble the normalcy they once had. Ingo had become a different person- Emmet was still trying to piece out exactly who the new ‘Ingo’ was.

Emmet had been doing his utmost best to make sure that Ingo was both getting the maintenance he so desperately needed while ensuring that the media- mostly news stations eager to get their story of the week- stayed clear of Gear Station- and most importantly- of Emmet. He had no tolerance for nosy reporters or overeager fans who didn’t listen to the strict warning about leaving Ingo alone. It had always been like that, even before Ingo went missing. He had been on the receiving end of unwanted attention when Ingo had disappeared, cameras being shoved into his face every single hour of every single day. And Emmet hated interacting with the press. He hated being pestered outside of work. His personal hours. If he could have it his way, he’d ban every last one of them from Gear Station for an entire month and then battle them just to humiliate them a little further. Losing to Battle Facility Heads off the clock meant that challenging trainers still had to fork over money. And Emmet knew just the item that would hurt them and their pockets a little bit more while still remaining perfectly legal.

But… Ingo had been the one to twist his arm and force him to relent in the first place. Ingo had been the one to so enthusiastically state his wish to accompany Emmet to work in the early hours just to gain a taste for their own workplace again. It had been Ingo who had gotten so mad when Emmet initially denied his requests. Ingo who had complained vehemently to Elesa about being stuck inside. Ingo who had so voraciously consumed as much media about subways and trains as he could handle, skipping out on sleep just to be able to figure out what the train-idioms littered about his speech finally meant.

Ingo just barely remembered what paparazzi were. He knew exactly the kind of pressure they would exert to see him. To get a good video or picture of him. That kind of trauma lasted through amnesia. Ingo had relented in allowing one of Emmet’s newest Pokémon- a Vikavolt- to distort any picture or video feed that the news stations or nosy fans did capture of either of them- solely to protect him. But that had been the line and Emmet had been itching to make it perfectly clear to the people of Nimbasa- to everybody in Unova- that Ingo was to be left alone in peace.

“- Emmet?” There came a tentative but strong pull on Emmet’s coat sleeve, pulling him squarely out of his thoughts. Ingo’s concerned gaze swam into the view. “You’re dissociating. Keep steady. Remember your safety checks.” Ingo then let go before fixing his posture. “I can… I can face them if- “

“No.” Emmet firmly grabbed Ingo by his shoulder and steered him over to the servicing tunnel door, shoving him in first. “I am Emmet. I will deal with the… guests. I will have them leave and then we will make our way to the back rooms.”

Ingo was quick to turn on his heels the second the doors closed. “I cannot stay hidden forever, Emmet! I must- “

“You do not have to do anything!” Emmet’s voice bounced off of the concrete. Made Ingo flinch, even. “I will deal with them! That is my job!”

“They are only curious! No harm will come if I simply bid them a quick ‘hello’!” Ingo then met Emmet’s gaze, a flame of determination sparking to life in his eyes. “I want to make an appearance,” Ingo iterated. “They will not leave me be unless I do, correct? Then why continue to skulk around in the tunnels?”

“You’re not- “

“We are,” Ingo asserted. He pulled away, striding toward the dizzying ladders as he began to climb. “I don’t wish to hide anymore.”

“Ingo- “

“Emmet,” Ingo retorted back in a slightly mocking tone. And in a much softer but confident tone, Ingo continued, “I want to say hello. My question is, will you support me?”

There came a moment. “Of course I will!”

“Then we both have nothing to fear! If I become too overwhelmed then- “

“- I will escort you to our office where the press cannot follow us,” Emmet concluded immediately. The backup idea still didn’t make Emmet’s heart beat any slower. “Please inform me if you get too overwhelmed.”

“Emmet, I am not the Salamanca Locomotive. You are forgetting that Hisui hosted more dangers than simply tolerating paparazzi.”

“I’m not insinuating anything.”

Ingo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he led the way as the two climbed the stairs higher and higher, Ingo himself shakily using the PA to order the depot agents to gather every contender in the main plaza of Gear Station for a ‘surprise visit’. The fear in the man’s voice was palpable, present in every shaking consonant as they neared the exit door leading to the departure platform.

And Emmet followed along silently, his hand just barely holding onto the tail of Ingo’s coat. Anything to remind himself that it wasn’t just him facing the press- Ingo was there too.

“…I want to do this alone.”

Emmet paused. They had come to a full stop in front of the exit door, Ingo still standing with his back to Emmet.

“…What?”

“I… I would like to greet the press… alone.”

“…May I ask why?”

Ingo took in a deep breath. “You have… you have been very accommodating, Emmet. You have been nothing but generous and selfless and thoughtful during my reintroduction to Unova. Truly, you are the best brother I could ever ask for.”

Why does this sound like Ingo is about to say something bad? “…What are you even saying, Ingo? I’m your twin. I’m your only brother,” Emmet chuckled weakly.

“I know. You’ve done much for me. But I think… it’s time… to travel along these tracks alone. Not literally, though,” Ingo backtracked, fixing his hair underneath his cap. “I just thought- well, really- it would be better for me to appear alone. It’s nothing against you, really! But I don’t want to be seen as- “

“A liability?” The words hung in the air for a long, long time. So long that Emmet was almost certain that had been what Ingo was trying to get at. “You don’t want to be seen as… incompetent. Constantly having to be chauffeured around the subway, is that right?”

“…You would be correct.”

“Ingo- “

“I can’t help what I feel, Emmet! I just- will you let me greet them alone?”

“…I can take the other exit- “

“- As in, let me speak for myself,” Ingo clarified, grabbing hold of Emmet’s sleeve with a harried quickness he’d only ever reserved for fleeing out a room when the light switch was flicked on. “I would still greatly appreciate you being there to assist me! Please! Do not decouple from me! I simply meant-”

“…Of course, Ingo.” Emmet shut his eyes and nodded. I’m still wanted. I just… have to… let Ingo lead. Emmet tapped his finger against his side. Ingo always used to lead. He’s trying to lead now. So I will let him. “You lead. I will follow.”

The two brothers paused by the door before turning on a heel to face each other instead. Small fixes were made. Ingo’s shirt was tucked back in. Emmet’s hair was fixed. A few pieces of lint were picked off and sent flying. A few scuffed pokéballs were shined and put back in their places. Ingo made the final call, giving Emmet a thorough once-over before turning and slowly lifting his hand to the door.

“…Say the words.”

Emmet chuckled. “Do you even remember them? You don’t even remember yours.”

“But I remember your lines. I never forgot them.”

Those words alone made Emmet’s throat tighten with pain. His voice shaky, Emmet took his place right behind Ingo, placing a calming hand on his brother’s back. Quietly, he began his usual script. “Fine… Follow the rules. Safe driving.”

“Follow the schedule,” Ingo continued, his voice barely audible.

“Everybody smile. Check safety.”

“Everything’s ready.”

“Aim for victory.”

With a deep breath, Ingo pushed down hard on the door bar. Flashes of blistering white light scorched the tunnel. The din of snapping shutters and the howl of anxious, excited voices blasted into the small concrete hallway. Emmet tightened his grip on Ingo’s coat- more for himself than his brother. He then gave the biggest grin he could muster as he stepped out of the servicing tunnel and onto the platform which was thronging with people. Ingo’s tight grip on him only strengthened but his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

“ALL ABOARD!”

[godesssiri]

10 Thrifting Tips – Part ? I lost count just check my thrifting tag

1) Make friends with the staff. If you go into a particular thrift store frequently it’s well worth it to get friendly with the staff. Ask them about their day, chat with them about what you’re buying, infodump if you’ve found something exciting and unusual. When the staff get to know you and know what you buy they’ll start pointing out things in the store that have come in since the last time you were there, that fit your interests. They may even start putting things aside for you. Recently I walked into my favorite thrift store and had 2 separate staff members say ‘Oh I’ve got something for you’. Plus having the staff greet you by name and having little inside jokes with them just makes the whole experience more fun.

2) Brita jugs turn up at the thrift store frequently. If tap water in your area is safe but has A Taste, keep an eye out at the thrift store.

3) Coffee making equipment. Capsule coffee makers, the wire racks that hold the capsules, French presses, these all get donated frequently. The occasional espresso machine comes in – and goes out very quickly. Now and then you’ll find pour-over coffee equipment. If you like your bean juice you can get the equipment you need to make fancy bean juice at the thrift store.

4) Handmade pottery mugs. Story time: About 6 or 7 years ago I went into a thrift store and someone had obviously just cleaned out their mug cupboard and donated a pile of handmade pottery. I bought 4 because I thought they were cool, very tactile, nice to hold. This AWOKE something in me. Humans have used handmade pottery for thousands of years and there’s something about holding a handmade mug that sparks a genetic memory of warmth and comfort. Pottery also has much better thermal properties than mass produced ceramic, hot stays hot longer and vice versa with cold. Build up a little collection of handmade pottery mugs from the thrift store, each one has its own personality and it brings joy using them.

5) In the same vein: teaspoons. Build up a collection of fun teaspoons and take joy from using different ones depending on your mood. I have one with an owl on the end and another with a rose, a brass one with a wiggly handle in the shape of a snake, one that has the branding of an airline that now only uses wooden stirrers - probably because people kept pocketing the stainless-steel teaspoons (I always wanted to steal one as a child but never had the nerve). Whenever I need a teaspoon it’s always a little endorphin boost to open the drawer and select the perfect one for today.

6) If you need something to do a specific job, be patient, you will find the perfect thing eventually. I switched to solid shampoo and my old soap dish wasn’t big enough to hold my shampoo bar and my regular soap, so I waited and watched and found the perfect little glass tray that was exactly the right size and fits perfectly on the shelf in my shower. I could have bought a brand new made-for-that-purpose multi soap holder, but it wouldn’t have been as cool looking and when I’m done with it, it wouldn’t necessarily get another life.

7) Gift supplies. Thrift stores often have a selection of unused gift wrap, bags, bows, cards. It’s worth it to sift through what they’ve got and buy any you think you might use – even if you don’t have an immediate use for it. That stuff can get expensive so if you can create a small stash then, when you need it, you won’t have to shell out $$.

8) Look for things that can be made over – or thrift flipped as the DIY content creators like to say. There’s so much satisfaction from looking at something that was plain ugly when you bought it and you’ve turned it into something pretty. It doesn’t need to be a major transformation that requires 5 different power-tools and 100 bucks worth of supplies. It can be as simple as a lick of paint, but every time you look at you will feel good about it.

9) Sometimes it’s worth buying something that’s just really cool and figuring out a use for it later. I bought the coolest little silver plated mustard pot; it has 3 legs and at the top of each leg is a lion head. Do I eat mustard much? No. Did I know what the heck I would use it for? No. I get bad indigestion and keep antacids on hand, I hate how once you tear open the roll, they tend to spill everywhere so I like to put them in something. Guess what holds exactly one roll of antacids? If something is just freaking awesome but you don’t know what you’d use it for, you will find a use (and it will be so much cooler than anything else you might have bought for that purpose).

10) Use the fancy stuff. Don’t ever look at something in a thrift store and think: that’s too fancy, I’ll never use it. If it’s not bought and used it ends up in landfill. Save it from the landfill and use it. Today I bought the most OTT fancy silver pepper shaker to sit next to my stove and hold ground pepper for cooking with, one of my housemates never puts the damn pepper back in the cupboard when he’s finished with it, so now we have this ostentatious silver shaker next to the stove top. One of my dogs can be relied upon to get half of his food on the floor before he hoovers it up, I could have got a plastic mat to feed him on but I had a spare thrifted marble cutting/serving board (I have a problem, I own 3, I have so much trouble resisting them), and another plus - he can’t destroy it like he would a plastic mat. I keep my toothbrush in a crystal bud vase. I decant my micellar water into a bottle shaped like a seahorse. I eat off pretty vintage pink glass plates. Using the fancy stuff from thrift stores both helps you romanticize your own life and it gives these items another life. Do be sensible though, some items made before the early 1970s including glassware and dinnerware contain lead in the decoration so do your due diligence and be safe.

[dokidokitsuna]

Slowly, I think I’m getting a handle on this…I tried studying the character art from my favorite dead MMORPG, Maple Story 2, and I think it helped me find a style for the shading and rendering that’s more dramatic but still sort of cartoony.

Plus, I’ve been doing a bit of script writing, which always helps me figure things out. ^^ So please enjoy the additional work I’ve done on these character concepts.

-Between these two, Magolor definitely needed the most work: you can tell because I basically drew a full character design sheet, which is something I almost never do because I don’t like repetition. XP But it doesn’t feel repetitive when I’m totally lost to begin with. ^^; I think I got a little too abstract that first time I drew him, so my focus here was to figure out the specific shape of his body and rebuild outward from there. In stark contrast to my usual Magolor designs, he’s very tall and muscular, with an imposing silhouette (especially with his cape on). Yes, he IS hiding something under all those purple bandages, but we won’t talk about it today. ;)

-I also like that his outfit gets darker the further inside you go, from the solid white cape and glittering chains, to the silver armor and gray scarves, to the skintight navy blue fit underneath. Symbolism??? Perhaps~

-Blade’s design was already pretty solid, so I just adjusted her cape a little, and then dove straight into the Rainbow Malady concept art. ^^ Phase 1 has her sprout a second eye and wings on one side of her face. Her head catches fire, as the power of the Rainbow Sword attempts to ‘burn away the darkness’. In this phase, Blade is already in a lot of pain, but remains fully conscious and can even speak, when she isn’t coughing up multicolored blood. She can recover from this on her own with a day of rest. Phase 2 is much more serious, forcing her organs outside of her body, and growing star-shaped welts over the rest of her skin. At this point, she can no longer recover without Magolor’s help-- essentially, he uses magic to shove all her organs back where they belong and stitch up the open wounds. It’s like setting a bone after it’s broken-- just as painful as the injury itself (if not more), but necessary for proper healing…which takes about a week.  Phase 3 is the last and worst, transforming her arms into elongated wings and her whole body into burning plasma, on top of all the issues from Phase 2. Thankfully, she can’t really remain conscious in this phase-- she’s usually delirious from fever, blood loss, and her brain literally burning away. ^^; Storywise, she needs about a month to recover from this, so she doesn’t use it too often…of course, as the 'player', you can put her through it as many times as you want. =T

-Fun fact, I guess: So the primary love language between these two characters is food. ^^ I was musing about what I could do with a protagonist arc centered around worsening illness (which is…surprisingly rare), and I thought, “so what do you do for sick people? You put them to bed, you manage their symptoms, you clean and comfort them…and most importantly, you feed them.” And then ^that little doodle basically came to me in a dream, and from there evolved the idea of Magolor showing kindness to Blade by cooking for her.

Most of the time, the little affection Magolor shows to Blade is…basically performative. Think of it like a hammy supervillain petting their cat-- it’s more of a character stim than anything else. ^^; The way Magolor talks to Blade (and especially the way he talks about her…) makes it clear that the hand-holding and headpats don’t mean much.

But on the other hand, giving Blade food and watching her cutely devour it, especially during the times when she’s bed-ridden and he doesn’t see her as often…I like to think that might genuinely endear her to him a little, enough to make it a sort of stand-out gesture. Like, if he strokes her forehead when she’s sick, that’s whatever; but when he spends 5 hours making a Maxim tomato consommé for her to eat, that’s him trying to say he cares. Maybe it’s just a tiny bit, maybe it’s just in that moment, but a small part of him truly wants her to be happy.

[starsreminisce]

Our favorite Elain stan 🌷🦌☀️ !!

1. Why is Elain one of your favorite characters?

2. Is there a specific scene that made you like her?

3. What theories/headcanons do you have for Elain?

4. Feel free to share anything else about Elain that the questions didn’t cover!

1. Why is Elain one of your favorite characters?

She reminds me of one of my absolute favorite people in the world. Elain is someone who has been shaped by her circumstances, and the way she interacts with and responds to the world is a reflection of what she’s learned in order to survive. Elain best exemplifies the idea that two things can be true at the same time, even more so than Nesta. Yes, someone can be soft and caring but also capable of setting hard boundaries when something starts to affect them in a way they don’t like. She can do that. She can use violence when necessary, like when she stabbed the King of Hybern, but she can also hate doing it, as she often was described how much violence does affect her. Feyre said that Elain can be brave when needed, and I feel like that’s an aspect of her that’s often overlooked, even though it’s fundamental to who she is.

SJM typically writes FMCs in a certain way, but I’m excited to see her take on a softer, more magically-inclined Willow-like FMC, rather than her usual Buffy-esque characters.

2. Is there a specific scene that made you like her?

I thought it was really sweet how much of a romantic Elain is, already packing a bag for Feyre when she returned to the Spring Court. But what really stood out to me was when she said the Queens should burn in hell. It reminded me of how Lucien said the exact same line...

LITTLE DID I KNOW

3. What theories/headcanons do you have for Elain?

A headcanon of mine is that Elain took up baking because it's Jesminda's hobby, something she doesn’t even realize. Baking feels like a fall activity to me, so I always think there is some subconsciousness Elain has about how much her mate does affect her.

I also have a theory that Elain's increasing sun-like descriptions signify her and Lucien paralleling their development as they move toward who they want to be together. Her character growth in ACOSF shows that she is preparing to become a High Lady of a court. We've seen her softness in previous books, and ACOSF illustrates how Elain acts when she can no longer afford to be soft.

I believe both Elain and Lucien will be the couple that solidifies the connection between their world and TOG and CC.

4. Feel free to share anything else about Elain that the questions didn’t cover!

Elain’s issue isn’t with Lucien specifically, but with the bond itself. No matter who was on the receiving end of that bond, she would react the same way she is now. Her story will further explore and expand on that lore. If ACOSF was SJM processing difficult experiences in her own life, Elucien's book will likely reflect SJM’s college days, especially around the time she left for college, met her husband, and went through months of pushing and pulling before they decided to be together.

Elain says she doesn’t want a mate, and I find it fitting that her mate is someone who believed he no longer had one. I still think back to Elain dreamily mentioning how Tomas wanted to marry Nesta, and I believe she deserves someone willing to fight against all odds to be with her, which Lucien already did for Jesminda.

In the beginning of Outlander, Jamie rescues Claire multiple times, despite their marriage initially being one of convenience. Similarly, ACOWAR gave us a glimpse of how far Lucien is willing to go for Elain, and I think their book will highlight the depth of Lucien's determination to bring Elain the against-all-odds romance she dreams of.

I can’t wait to read how Elain realizes it’s not the bond that makes Lucien act this way, but that it’s because of who Lucien is at his core that they are mates.

I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you so much for asking!