#and the disparity between my feelings for them is really funny

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

It's funny to watch you insist all the time you're not into L*ona and J‐Word and then roughly every 6 months you stage a takeover of the Sebek-Zigvolt-Defenders-Club and loudly and proudly proclaim he's the best boy actually and we should all love him.

In all seriousness, it was your thoughtful analyses that changed my mind about Sebek some months ago and I now also preach the good word about him. He's so loud and dumb and silly and I cry when we get more of his lore and personality revealed, so you're doing great work soldier 🫡

(P.S. Is this confirmation of the list of your favorite first, second, and third year? Two secretive schemers known for taking advantage of people and one tall, loud, loving croc boy with a big ol' heart😏)

[My two big Sebek analysis posts: here and here! Other Sebek analysis can be found in this masterlist.]

I insist I'm not into J word and L*ona because I am, in fact, not into them :) Trust, trust. I cannot tell a lie :))

IS IT REALLY EVERY 6 MONTHS... If so, that's totally unintentional on my part 😂 If I put out a Sebek analysis, it's because there was an ask about him or there's been new official Twst content that I want to scream and shout about. Between Sebek, Jade, and Leona, I feel that Sebek is definitely the most easily understood and most disliked one, especially from the get-go. General opinion of him seems to have improved considerably thanks to book 7, but to this day I still remember the visceral hate he received because he was labelled a racist or loud or an ass-kisser or having no personality outside of liking Malleus. It was sad to see him getting trashed... so I guess I felt like someone had to defend his honor www (And to be clear, it's okay if you dislike Sebek!! Not everyone has to like him. I'm only saying that I don't agree with the opinion that Sebek is a shallow character.)

AAHHABIHFAHSFHQGTG830TQ3P9Nadfhubabyoifam;,; I'm happy that my analyses helped you to see him in a new light!! Again, Sebek truthers rise up ✊ He's a himbo, but he's OUR himbo...

I'd say that Leona is at the top of the third years for me, yeah. B-BUT NOT BECAUSE I LIKE HIM OR ANYTHING, GOT THAT???? It's mostly because I don't find most of the other third years that appealing to me. Jade faces much stiffer competition, since I like most of the second years. However, he manages to pull ahead of the rest of them by a smidge. It's actually Sebek that's fighting hard to keep the spot of my favorite first year; the other two I really like are Ace and Ortho. Ace fluctuates a lot though... While I do find his bratty personality cute (especially when he's doing vocal impressions of the other characters) and appreciate him having the gall to tell others off (regardless of power or social statuz disparity), I also find him very annoying and immature. So I guess it's actually Sebek versus Ortho, the more solid candidate. I think Ortho's relationship with his older brother is very sweet and, of course, tragic. I also love that he looks so innocent but has a deep capacity for violence (laser beam to the face, anyone?) and a strong curiosity to learn more about what it means to be human.

Assuming that Sebek, Jade, and Leona are my respective favorites of each year though ��� They’re all freakishly tall and pretty muscular (sliding scale of least muscular J word to most muscular Sebek www)… Two big brains and there there’s just. The baby with brawn.

chsjwvjwjwow I mentioned this to some friends and here’s how that convo went:

THIS WAs 100% UNINTENTIONAL… OTL

[leondegranced]

A sequel to my lil guy

[enemui]

⁉️What your favorite Genshin Impact character says about you🫵

🐰Amber: Your favorite Pokémon is Eevee and your favorite Sanrio character is My Melody.

🌹Lisa: You're not scared of smart women but you are scared of interesting women.

🛡️Noelle: You don't know shit and plan on keeping it that way.

🫧Barbara: You either sell or buy gamer girl bathwater.

🦇Fischl: You're quarter-delusional. Like, you are delusional, but sometimes you're aware that you are delusional.

☘️Bennett: You have a soft spot for miserable little creatures and you desperately need a bigger character trait than that.

🍖Razor: You love dogs, even if they're old, ugly little goblins.

🐱Diona: You love cats and hate alcohol. Those are two rare instances of you feeling strongly about anything.

🔮Mona: You were assigned financial irresponsibility at birth, and haven't managed to do anything to change your fate.

🗡️Rosaria: You think having a healthy biorhythm is overrated. You also look like a human cigarette.

🖌️Mika: You let your feelings of pity towards others control you.

🍀Klee: You're the fun parent. You probably own a spoiled pet.

🦴Sucrose: You actually love to talk, people just hate to listen.

🧪Albedo: You're gay and neurodivergent.

❄️Eula: You're weak to corporate tricks. You should really work on that.

🦚Kaeya: You're not known to have functional relationships and healthy coping mechanisms.

🦉Diluc: You think you could get an edgy boy to open up to you. You couldn't because the moment someone is even a little cold to you, you will cry.

🦁Jean: You always order the same thing from the menu. Not because it's your favorite, but because you're scared of trying anything new.

🍏Venti: If being horny and annoying was a sport, you'd be an Olympic athlete.

🐇Yaoyao: You can be sold anything with a cute mascot plastered on it.

🌶️Xiangling: You wonder how a lot of different things taste like and you need to be stopped.

🧊Chongyun: There's a great disparity between how you want to be perceived versus how you are actually perceived.

💦Xingqiu: You are knowingly annoying and don't plan to stop anytime soon.

🎸Xinyan: You're misunderstood, but you definitely don't make an effort to be anything else.

⚰️Hu Tao: Your self-proclaimed pranks have resulted in actual damages to people's mental and physical well-being.

🎼Yun Jin: You've projected onto your partner before to the point you lost the ability to identify their actual character.

🥥Qiqi: You aren't swayed by public opinions.

🐍Baizhu: Close the wikipedia tab with a list of terminal diseases, you're fine, just severely dramatic.

🏔️Shenhe: You've been in abusive relationships. Not sure if as the victim or perpetrator, but you were in them.

🎲Yelan: You'd be perfectly content as a housewife. Just do chores and read smut.

⚓️Beidou: You don't mind putting in the work to change things to be more to your liking.

💎Ningguang: You have no qualms sucking up to people for a bit of societal advantage.

🍤Keqing: You've entered relationships before, thinking you could change them. No, that absolutely did not go well for you.

⚖️Yanfei: It's not just your exes who suck, you have an entire toxic friend group.

🔔Ganyu: You have an elaborate power fantasy about quitting your job.

🫖Madame Ping: You're a classy lesbian.

⚙️Guizhong: You present your opinions as facts.

☁️Cloud Retainer: You've been in a situation when you've found your girlfriend's mom more attractive than your girlfriend.

🪽Xiao: You're non-binary and depressed.

🐉Zhongli: You need a man to kiss the back of your hand. Also you have a strained relationship with your father.

🍁Kaedehara Kazuha: You don't care about looks, only vibes. You're also addicted to adderall.

🍃Sayu: You are serious about the silly and silly about the serious. Sometimes it's funny, other times you deserve to be dropkicked into the sun.

🎁Kirara: You have a crippling addiction to adorable girls.

🦌Shikanoin Heizou: You are guilty of the "thinking with your dick/pussy". Don't try to deny it, you didn't even care until his birthday became a national holiday.

⚡️Kuki Shinobu: You have better things to do than a well-paying job, such as arson.

👹Arataki Itto: You are a size queen. You also think you're way more interesting than you actually are.

🎇Yoimiya: You've had a crush on the same person for the longest time and every time you think you're over them, they make a request of you and you jump on it like a dog.

👺Kujou Sara: You could probably use hormonal therapy.

🍡Thoma: You think appearances don't matter as long as he's nice. You're also a terrible judge of character, so all your exes are just overall shitty people.

🪭Kamisato Ayaka: You cannot survive without your established social circle. Were it not for the luxuries of civilization, you'd be dead in a ditch.

🧋Kamisato Ayato: You have no self-respect, if a slightly above average man tells you to do something, you'll do it.

🐕Gorou: You don't need a man, you need a dog.

🪸Sangonomiya Kokomi: You don't know how to dress well, but you really want a girlfriend who does.

🦊Yae Miko: You think as long as a woman is hot, she can do whatever the fuck she pleases.

🌸Raiden Ei: You've been in a relationship with an unmedicated mentally ill person and walked out of that experience having learned nothing.

🧞‍♀️Dori: The world would be better off without you.

🌻Tighnari: You have an attitude and you refuse to reign it in no matter how inappropriate for the situation it is.

🪴Collei: You either have no idea what you're doing or you should be in jail.

🪷Nilou: You live quite blissfully, but dealing with you isn't easy. This is called ignorance.

✨Layla: Your best exam results come from days when you showed up to class hungover and on 45 minutes of sleep.

📐Faruzan: Your family broke the generational curse, which somehow had a negative impact on your character.

🪻Candace: You are the mom friend, but only because you have to be. Like, you're a mess, but you're a lot less of a mess than your friends.

🌺Dehya: You can draw yourself symmetrical eyeliner.

🃏Cyno: You probably have a good moral compass, but you still aren't easy to get along with.

🦅Alhaitham: You're, like, severely delusional. You either think he's like you or that you could be on good terms with him. Both of those are clear signs of delusional behavior.

🕊️Kaveh: I hate to break it you, but buying stuffed animals can't substitute for going to therapy.

☂️Wanderer: Most of the time, you're really cute, but you can be absolutely terrifying if you so choose. You're also trans.

💉Dottore: You're fairly submissive but if someone makes you mad, you'll make sure they regret it.

🌱Nahida: You're addicted to winning arguments. You don't even need to be right, you just need to feel like you've won, even if you resort to the method of wearing a person down until they no longer want to continue debating with you.

🌂Navia: You have leadership skills specifically in the "do as I say, not as I do" department.

🐧Freminet: You're non-binary and have anxiety.

🎩Lynette: You're very patient but you'd rather not be.

🪄Lyney: You have a dark secret and the dark secret is that you're actually a Danganronpa girlie.

🍷Arlecchino: You're not a good person but you genuinely don't think it's that bad.

⚔️Clorinde: You have fallen prey to misinformation on numerous occasions before.

🩹Sigewinne: You'd sacrifice your liver to keep a person happy.

🐺Wriothesley: You can be appeased by an act of hot girl shit.

🌊Neuvillette: You need a man to kiss the back of your hand. Also you have a strained relationship with your mother.

💧Furina: You're delusional. Could be affectionate, could be derogatory, it varies from person to person.

🦟Paimon: You don't know shit but you have an opinion on everything.

🐋Tartaglia: Your exes all belong in jail. So does your current and next partner. You never fucking learn, do you?

💰Pantalone: You don't need a healthy relationship, you need a sugar daddy.

🖤Capitano: You are, amongst other things, a monsterfucker. You want to be destroyed, but, like, lovingly.

🎀Columbina: You are a mix of a pomeranian and a Biblically accurate angel.

🎭Pierro: You are fatherless on an Olympic level. You don't need a father, you need a daddy.

💫Lumine: You're a hot girl. You're either stupid or evil, but you're a hot girl. If you're not a girl, you are a red flag.

☄️Aether: You have a crippling crop top addiction and you have no idea what to do with your hair.

🌌Dainsleif: You date people before getting to know them, but don't understand why you don't get along with your partners.

[vladdyissues]

anon from before. i feel like jazz is the odd one out because vlad doesnt hate her like jack but also isnt really interested in her like he is maddie and danny.... i could see him genuinely wanting to be a mentor to her though, based on canon interactions. just. at an arms length. hes not Obsessed with her but if he wants maddie and danny she'll inevitably be tagging along as well. i can imagine him daydreaming about dong questionable domestic things with maddie and danny all day while he sends jazz off to university. jazz is a bright, ambitious young woman! Surely she won't take offence of my treatment of her family if i bankroll her education!

I've actually been meaning to make a post about this point for some time.

Realistically, or at least in accordance with canon, Vlad should be more interested in Jasmine, who is the next best thing to Maddie, instead of Danny, who represents Jack and most resembles him.

But having the chief (male) antagonist of the series obsessed with the protagonist's teenage sister 1) detracts from the hero vs enemy dynamic, and 2) is honestly too creepy and predatory to get away with, even in a funny joke-around way. No way would Nickelodeon allow a middle-aged cartoon man to be obsessed, romantically or otherwise, with a sixteen year-old girl. The power disparity between them is too great, and that's just as humans. Vlad is also a mega-powerful half ghost completely capable of attacking and subduing a teenage girl. It pegs the red on the Uncomfortable Implications Meter.

But Vlad being obsessed with a teenage boy who happens to have his same powers is acceptable because they're more equally (narratively) matched. Ergo we get the soft "Uncle Vlad" side when it comes to Vlad's interactions with Jasmine. (I mean. Apart from that bit in Secret Weapons where he threatens to "waste"—TV Y7 lingo for "kill"—her with injected nanobots should she betray him.)

Speaking of which, she never got those nanobots out of her bloodstream.

But ignoring that last detail and focusing on when things were still somewhat amicable between Vlad and Jasmine, I could definitely see him trying to mentor to her, being invested in her future and her education. She represents all the things that Vlad admires in Maddie, specifically her intellect*.

* In order to maintain his delusion that Maddie is a genius who could never make a mistake, I think Vlad has convinced himself that Jack must have lied, duped, or otherwise "tricked" Maddie into marrying him, because there's no possible way she, such a remarkably smart woman, would ever marry such a bumbling idiot. He had to have deceived her. It's the only explanation.

Vlad has Maddie on a pedestal—which is also part of his objectification of her. He worships her, the goddess who could never (willingly) do wrong... the prize he can only ever admire from a distance, never to have or hold.

Anyway, I'm starting to get off track. I love this Badger Cereal equivalent of Vlad & Jazz. (Cheese Therapy?)

[magicpotatoobsession]

GIVEN | Hiiragi Mix Thoughts Part 1

So I haven't been super active on this blog not because I don't love Given anymore, but any ounce of brain energy dedicated to Given means I have to feel the agony of waiting for the two movies to release. BUT ALAS the time has come because @aarinfantasy is the GOAT thank you thank you thank you~~~ Spoilers and screenshots below the cut 👇👇👇

GENERAL NOTES:

How can Mafuyu be animated even cuter than before? Like I don't even know how but how can he look even more adorable???!!

I love the intentional placement of sound and music in Hiiragi mix, moments of silence are so effective in highlighting tension, awkwardness, release, nervousness. Like even 1 minute into the movie, you hear the boys breathing as Uenoyama is tuning the guitar and Mafuyu is sitting beside him. It's those little details that show the atmosphere between characters perfectly.

I like the balance of Hiiragi/Shizu's storyline and Mafuyama's storyline, it's following the manga closely and shows the complexity and intertwining of their stories. It's a good way to juxtapose the different struggles between the two couples and what they needed from each other to overcome their miscommunication! I think the team took feedback from the Given Movie 1 2020 and OVA broken up into two parts when it should have worked better as one longer movie.

I saw on reddit I think that Hiiragi's VA is still relatively new to the industry but I saw a HUGE improvement in his voice acting in this movie, the range he gave to Hiiragi is amazing!

SCENE REACTIONS

This scene was so funny I CACKLED Uenoyama and Hiiragi with their catty energy I LOVE THEM

2. I fell off my couch at this scene HHAHAHA

While Uenoyama's face is funnier in the manga, something about the animated rocket launch from earth JUST GETS ME HAHHAHA. Ok serious talk though how did I not notice that when Uenoyama got confessed to and when Haruki told him he's about to debut, his brain turns into astronaut footage? I think it's a very smart way to illustrate that for Ue, music = love and one cannot exist without the other.

3. OMG Uenoyama's face HAHAH awww man I know he's bummed as hell at Mafuyu's "I'll think about it later" (to the debut proposal) but his face, Ueki and Itaya's faces send me straight to heaven

You know how Ue feels? Our munchkin cat feels like he just proposed to his lover and his lover said, hmnnn I'll think about it. 😭 Chemical, emotional, physical, psychological damage right here>>>

4. The voice acting here from Hiiragi's VA Fumiya Imai SLAPS SO HARD

It's definitely giving deja vu, similar energy to Uenoyama panicking about Mafuyu, gosh I love Hiiragi and Uenoyama's baby gay panics it's so cute.

5. Kageyama is that you?!

6. The sound design and use of silence in this entire scene....incredible, showstopping, amazing, impactful yes yes yes

7. This scene animating Shizu's flashback to childhood was really well done.

It's interesting that in the movie they didn't speak too much about Shizu being transferred from foster home to foster home, or what he had to do to get by. But also, in the manga, I'm pretty sure that they didn't have this scene of a child Shizu closing his hands over "precious stone" but I think it absolutely elevated my connection to Shizu as a character. It really shows that he believes he has been selfishly holding Hiiragi back and that he has been trapping Hiiragi all this time. It gives so much more context to what he did next which if it wasn't clear already, he tried to push Hiiragi away in order to free Hiiragi from him. 8. HOLY SHIT wow goddamn I would not want to live where Akihiko is living oh my 💀💀💀

Watching this scene animated with the noise of the highway really highlights how bad Akihiko's living conditions are. I flagged this because in the Given Manga sequel 10th mix [SPOILER AHEAD], there is this whole thing of Akiharu's disparity with their living conditions so....this is interesting....just putting it out there.....

I also don't remember this scene in the manga, but I really appreciate it, it shows the contrast of Akiharu in the first Given movie vs. this one and how their love and care for each other has evolved! Very cute! I'll make a part 2 soon!

____

My Given Metas

[demenior]

marion/babenon/vandran was one of those headcanons where i heard it for the first time and immediately accepted it as truth, but i'd love to hear more of ur thoughts on it -- how do u picture vandran getting folded into marion and babenon? are there particular parts of their dynamic that u really like, or really see as a cornerstone? anything else u want to talk abt wrt them?

I started the concept of the Parent Trap Trio as a joke, mostly because I thought it would be funny for Fjord n Jester to have to deal with their parents getting married* or just the utter childish horror of having your parents brazenly flirting with each other.

And then suddenly it wasn't a joke. As a note, all of my thoughts for the trio are specific to the Fealty Series, which means it may or may not match canon.

To start you should read the light that you will see at evening by Capitola because they basically nailed how I imagine the first introduction between Babenon, Marion and Vandran going, as well as several little background details.

(this would be because Capi has been my co-conspirator for the Fealty series, and is also just a great writer)

* (I don't think any of them are the marrying type)

And then thoughts/details/concepts in no particular order:

Vandran and Babenon knew of each other while they were both in the Revelry. They were never on the same crew, and never close, but were aware of each other and their reputations

Considering Vandran's last love tried to kill him/he had to fake his death to escape her, he's a little hesitant to get involved in anything serious

Marion and Babenon are the only ones allowed to call Vandran by his first name (James) as a sign of intimacy. He will always refer to Marion as 'Miss Lavorre' as a sign of respect (until they're in private)

Babenon usually gets referred to as 'Mr. Dosal' for the same reason.

In the Fealty series we see a lot of similar behaviours between Vandran and Fjord (because they're father and son), where they feel their worth is tied to their masculinity which is tied to how much they can provide for/care for the person they care about (this is absolutely tied up to some toxic masculinity, but as the Fealty series explores, this is also how they both express their gender AND their affection and therefore very important for both Fjord and Vandran)

By this metric, Vandran has a lot of hang-ups about the wealth disparity between him and Marion (and Babenon, who is Marion's trophy boyfriend). He has a livable wage for an old bachelor, but certainly not for courting a Lady (or her trophy boyfriend) and he struggles with his pride about it

The three of them are all people that scrambled and fought hard to earn the life they have now- while they may not be upfront about the details of their past and where they came from- they can recognize that sharp edge in each other

Vandran does not actually live in the Chateau! Marion has offered for him to move in, or to rent a room to him, but he insists on maintaining his own apartment. It's a point of pride for him (see above re: masculinity).

Vandran does not wear a sword in A Lady's home (as this would be an insult to her in many ways- implying her home is not safe, or implying that he could be a threat at any time).

Marion and Babenon do not consider themselves 'high class' by any means, but they are accustomed to fitting in with high(er) society more than Vandran is

If Babenon needs to force Vandran into wearing something that he and/or Marion have purchased for Vandran, all he has to do is say something along the lines of 'you wouldn't want to embarass Marion, would you?' because Vandran can easily be trapped by social convention

They are all aware that if Vandran wanted out he could just stop coming to the Chateau

Babenon hires a personal barber to come to the Chateau for all of his personal styling (shaving, haircuts, etc). He insists that Vandran come along 'because I'm paying for it already', and since Fjord lives in the Chateau he joins in.

It wasn't meant to be, but Boy Time Spa Day became a Big Event in the household and the women leave them alone for it. Marion and Jester think it's SO cute. They got the boys matching robes.

Boy Time Spa Day is the most time Fjord and Vandran spend together outside of work, and the leading cause for them having any kind of good relationship

Vandran and Marion have a book club and enjoy talking books over a glass of scotch

As Vandran was once a) a notorious pirate and b) an established businessman on the coast, Babenon has engaged him to aid in helping Babenon make inroads towards connecting with different criminal factions.

Due to several previously mentioned factors, Vandran almost completely rejected being courted, and nearly left Nicodranas. It's only because Marion is so good at what she does that she was able to keep him from disappearing.

Marion and Vandran's only major point of contention is Vandran's relationship with Fjord. He insists he's not Fjord's father, while she insists that he is. It's the only thing Vandran will fight her on.

Vandran, like Fjord (used to be), will always say one thing (the polite, expected thing), and then may act completely different. This is how he let Marion and Babenon play flirty chicken on him, by telling them "no I'm not interested" and then continuing to return to visit.

Marion and Vandran both wear solid social masks- ie: they maintain a clear facade of what people expect of them, and reserve their true selves for their private moments, and may not even remove these masks in front of people they love. They recognize this in each other, and there's a kindrid spirit there.

Babenon and Vandran are actually best boy friends. Sometimes this infuriates Babenon, such as when Vandran insists that the shirt he slept in is fine to go to a meeting in. But they both have a huge flair for the dramatic. If Babenon is out of the Chateau for anything, he will usually try and get Vandran to come along with him.

The two men have some feelings about Marion's line of work, but have an understanding that work is work, and she's the most successful of all of them. They often attend her performances together.

Even though Marion has Bluud, Babenon and Vandran have an understanding that if she is entertaining a client (specifically for sex, which is not all the time, as this is the only time Bluud would be outside the room, and not in it with her and her client), one of them must be close enough to intervene in the chance that there is any kind of danger

Marion, and Bluud, have insisted that this has literally never happened in the Chateau's history. Bluud finds this a point of pride that they don't think he can do his job, Marion backs Bluud up but secretly appreciates the gesture.

That being said, if they ever actually interrupted her with a client she would kill them. She is running a VERY professional business, thank you.

Babenon and Vandran have a better understanding of the complications of their status as 'fathers' in Fjord and Jester's lives, one that Marion thinks they're both "idiots" (her words) about. Babenon is Jester's biological father, but he won't claim the role as he wasn't there to help raise or support her. Vandran technically raised Fjord (hired Fjord when Fjord was ~14-16ish, until Fjord was ~28-30ish), and he mentored Fjord, but he doesn't think he has any right to call himself a father, as he doesn't believe he's added anything good to Fjord's life.

They've been "together" for maybe a year now? (For reference, the Fealty series is ~3 years post-campaign, I think). It took a long time for things to move anywhere beyond flirting, and then there was the crisis where Vandran almost faked his death again and disappeared. Even still, they aren't really 'defined' so much as they are enjoying their time together and taking each day at a time.

Marion wants this to be long-term. But she's waiting to bring it up so that Vandran doesn't panic and run away again.

The "relationship" is a bit of an open secret with Fjord and Jester, if only because Fjord and Jester don't need to know ALL the details of their relationship. The parents can keep a few things, just for themselves. Also, both Vandran and Babenon are a wee bit uncomfortable flaunting anything sexual in front of the kids. Marion is willing to go along with their wishes, though she doesn't see the issue.

You will note that both Marion and Jester are incredibly sex positive and don't share their partners' shame around sex.

While they do have an active sex life, their relationship is based more around companionship. The three of them will be up long into the nights/even into the mornings based on conversations and debates. These are occasionally interrupted with kisses and other things, but not always.

They have been SO excited for Fjord and Jester to finally leave on their trip so that they can have sex all over the house

[eddies-ashtray]

When The Rain Starts To Pour ⌂ Chapter 1: The One Where Eddie Hates Paul

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Chapter Preview: 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

CW: Brief discussion of financial struggles, vague talk of poor parental relationship (not necessarily abusive though), jealousy, loneliness, reader talks of being unhappy in her previous life circumstances, probably lots of bad jokes, poorly concealed Friends references, age gap (between reader and Paul), lots of tropes, non-canon compliant (duh—but also the upside-down does not exist), kinda pervy/douchey behaviour from Paul (nothing crazy though, just generally douchey).

 WC: 17.4k

 A/N: Ah! It’s finally here! I am so so so excited to share this first chapter with you after so long. I really hope it lives up to expectations. I just wanna note that while writing, I imagined the coffee shop and the apartments from Friends, so the decor and layout of each of those places are pretty much the exact same in my descriptions of them. Here’s a link to the apartments and coffee shop layouts if you’re interested. Also, I am going to do the best I can to make this era- and setting-appropriate, but keep in mind that I was not born in the 90s, nor am I from New York City (or the US in general), so there may be some inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of my rambling, happy reading!!

Series Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Next Chapter [coming soon]

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“I’m so broke it’s not even funny! Like, seriously, look,” Robin exclaims before placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and proceeding to lean back awkwardly on the couch so she can turn her pockets out. They are indeed empty–a metaphorical sign of her poverty. 

Nancy clicks her tongue from her spot on a sage green chair next to the couch, reaching over to place a coaster under Robin’s steaming mug. 

It’s a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at The Ugly Mug, only a couple other patrons milling about and occupying the various other seats around the small establishment. There’s a short woman with long, thin braids seated by the large front window and a stout man in a purple beanie sitting on one of the stools near the coffee bar. There’s also been the occasional patron coming in to pick up a to-go order–bringing in with them a rush of chilly November air–before rushing back out the dark wooden doors. 

“I’m fucking screwed. I can’t afford that big, stupid place alone,” Robin complains, retrieving her tea from the table after she’s tucked her pockets back into her jeans. 

“You could always get a second job,” Eddie offers from the opposite end of the couch, an oversized red mug half-full of very sugary coffee in hand. “Ya know, moonlight as a rockstar like some of the rest of us?” 

Robin rolls her eyes at his over-exaggeration and looks over at him as she replies, “Don’t you guys get, like, one gig per month?” 

“No…We get two gigs per month,” Eddie corrects like the disparity between her answer and his had been larger than it was. 

When he realizes that his correction wasn’t much of a correction, he adds, slightly more helpful this time, “But it’s better than just working in the restaurant. At least I get a little extra every month.” 

Robin sighs. “I guess…But it’d suck to double my exhaustion just to take another job I hate. At least your second job is something you love...I wish I could get, like, a raise or something,” She complains, head falling back against the couch in frustration. 

From beside her, Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder, placing his own mug of coffee on the table before doing so. “Why don’t you-”

“No,” She replies before he can finish. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve defends and Robin lolls her head to the side to shoot him a deadpan stare. 

“I am not putting an ad in the newspaper,” She states plainly. 

“It’s a strategy! How else would you find a roommate?” 

“I agree with Robin,” Nancy pipes up from Robin’s other side. “It’s not safe, Steve. There’s so many freaks out there; you don’t know who you’re inviting into your home.”

“I live with a freak and I’m fine,” Steve jokes. 

“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, mildly offended, and slaps Steve on the arm halfheartedly. “It’s been six years, Harrington, when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

“How about never!” Steve bites back childishly. All too quickly their civilized conversation about Robin’s living situation devolves into an immature argument between two grown men. It’s almost surprising how they manage to live together and not tear each other’s heads off. Despite their silly arguments though, they surprisingly get along quite well–most of the time. 

“Hey! Can we get back on topic, please?” Nancy interrupts, mildly anxious about the eyes of the other patrons on them. Normally, she wouldn’t let others’ judgment get to her; she’s aware that she hangs around a pretty rowdy group of adults, but it’s so quiet in here today and she’d like to keep it that way. 

“Actually, I’m perfectly content right in the middle of this. I could use a distraction,” Robin says, settling into the couch beside the two bickering men.

Sighing contentedly, Robin gets comfortable and shuts her eyes, the soft light of the café causing the back of her eyelids to glow a soft orange. The boys’ bickering continues to her right as Nancy reaches over from her left to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Robin opens her eyes again to turn to her and gives her a tight-lipped smile. 

“I need a roommate,” she concludes, tone solemn. Nancy’s lips part, about to impart some advice when-

The small golden bell above the door tinkles its charming chime as it opens, and in rushes the late November bite, and a frazzled-looking young woman. As she enters the space, she makes such a commotion that Robin startles and turns to take a look at who’s causing the ruckus. The others turn to the door as well (including Steve and Eddie whose bickering has now ceased altogether due to the interruption). 

In her tow is one large suitcase, in her hand is a large black trash bag (the plastic material stretching into a grey colour in some areas), and on her back is a large backpack (stuffed so full that the biggest pocket isn’t even zipped all the way). 

It must have begun to rain at some point during their hours’ long stay at the coffee shop because the woman appears to be quite damp without an umbrella or hood on her jacket. 

Finally, Robin's eyes land on the woman’s face. In a shock, she realizes that she recognizes her. However, seeing as none of her friends are acquainted with the woman, they’re rather occupied by the seemingly magical appearance of this person who looks to be in need of a place to stay at the exact moment that Robin expressed her need for a roommate. The four of them gawk at the woman with the luggage for a moment until someone can’t help himself and must break the silence to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. 

“And I want to be rich and famous!” Eddie exclaims, gesturing widely to the door. Unfortunately, his wish does not manifest as Robin’s had. 

Robin passes her tea to Steve, who takes it without question as she stands from her spot on the couch, passing Nancy as she rounds it. The woman is at the counter now, though as Robin nears her, the woman is not ordering a coffee or any other warm beverage. 

“Excuse me? Do you know-” You begin, but before you can finish asking the café employee about your friend's whereabouts, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder. 

 “Y/N?” 

Immediately, you recognize her voice and turn around. Many summers and phone calls throughout your childhood and teen years had familiarized you with it. 

Once you’re face-to-face, relief releases the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders. After over 12 hours of driving across the country (maybe more, you stopped keeping track at some point), countless times getting lost (your sense of direction completely failing you, even with the aid of a map and any living soul you came across), many pit stops at dank, shady rest stops, and a lot of fast food later, you’re just happy to see a familiar face. 

“Robin! Thank God! I went to your apartment-” you begin, eager to recount the story of your travels. 

“My apartment?” Robin asks, confused that you’d known her address. 

“-but you weren’t there! And I almost left to look for you myself, but then your neighbour saw me knocking and told me I could probably find you here-”

“My neighbour?”

“-and I thought, ‘It’s worth a shot,’, so I dragged all my shit back down the stairs and through the stupid rain and you’re here! But, come to think of it, I don’t even know why I brought all this stuff up with me instead of just leaving it in the car. Like, that was sort of presumptuous of me to show up at your door with a bunch of luggage, but I guess it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea to leave it in that parking garage anyway,” You finish your rambling, out of breath now and slightly lightheaded. 

That was likely an inappropriate way to greet her after all this time, but you find that you’re exhausted from your travels and electrified with adrenaline from your impulsive decision to come to New York. 

At first, it was nice to get out and stretch your legs after spending half a day in your car, and walk around this new city in search of Robin’s apartment, but now you could just collapse right here on this scuffed hardwood floor. 

Robin’s brows furrow as she tries to process your word vomit, but still cannot find an answer for her biggest question. Though she’s concerned that one of her neighbour’s so easily gave away her location to a stranger who was banging on her door and curious to know how you’d found her apartment, she’s more interested in your story for now. In learning what got you here after all this time.

“Why are you here? I mean-it-it’s great to see you, but, um-why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Robin suggests, leading you gently towards the couch. 

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, navigating carefully around velvet-upholstered stools with your bags in hand. 

A man with long hair and tattoos stands from the couch to take a seat on a chair to his right in order to accommodate you as Robin helps you place your bags on the floor next to the woman with the curly hair and high cheekbones. 

Finally, you sit down on the plush orange couch next to a happy looking guy with gorgeous, voluminous hair. He smiles at you kindly once you’re settled in and you breathe out, willing yourself to relax so you can attempt to coherently explain your situation to your friend and, apparently, these strangers. 

Their eyes on you make you nervous, but once Robin takes her seat next to you, you feel more at ease. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robin reassures as she tucks her legs underneath herself on the couch. You nod, taking one more deep breath and collecting your thoughts before beginning. 

“So-I know this is, like, totally crazy that I just kinda showed up here out of the blue after, what? 5, 6 years?” You begin nervously, looking to Robin for confirmation on how long it’s been since you last saw each other. She nods after turning her body to face you. 

“But I just–I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this but–I felt like I was on autopilot or something, just kind of drifting through my days: going to work at a boring job with boring people, coming home to my shitty apartment, going to sleep, and doing it all over again and again and again.”

In your periphery, you notice a few of them nodding in agreement and feel relieved at their earnest validation. It gives you the strength to continue your story. 

“And one day I guess I woke up? I realized that I hated where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, what I wasn’t doing. I just sort of…panicked. I knew I couldn’t stay there–in that life and that apartment cause it was, like, a total shithole-”

“Why was it a shithole?” A voice interrupts from your right; The One With The Tattoos. You’d been so into your story for those 30-some-odd seconds that you nearly forgot that it was more than just Robin you were venting to. He seems genuinely curious and well-meaning, so you’re not perturbed by his interruption, only surprised, which is what causes you to pause before answering his question. 

In the moment you take before you respond, you clock the bat tattoo on his forearm (though you’d recognized his inked skin earlier, you hadn’t examined the art close enough to discern what the tattoos were of), among a smattering of many other patchwork tattoos, and hope you remember to ask him about it later (if there is a later with these people–there’s all the chance that Robin could send you packing). 

Finally, you shake off your surprise and respond, “Well, aside from the fact that my apartment was definitely mold-infested and my building had a serious rat problem, my landlord was a total creep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” He agrees, brows furrowing.

“Yeah. So, I just couldn’t live there anymore, or go back to work, and I definitely was not about to go back home to live with my mother–phone calls once a week are already more than I can handle, I don’t think I could take her constant scrutiny for more than 30 minute increments,” You explain, scoffing lightly. “But, um-” You stutter, looking down at your lap and pulling at the skin of your hand absentmindedly. 

“Anyway…I panicked and I decided that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, so two weeks ago, I put in my two weeks at work and pretty much packed up my whole life into my car and started driving without a destination…And then I remembered hearing that you’d moved to New York a few years back,” You recall, gesturing to Robin, who smiles warmly back at you.

“So I looked you up in the phone book and when I found your name I just felt like it was the right thing? Which I know sounds kinda kooky, but it was the first good feeling I’d had about something in a long time, so I just decided that I needed to trust it,” You conclude, squeezing your hands in your lap. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since it’s been so long, but…is there any chance at all that you might need a roommate?” 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When you step inside the apartment, you immediately love the place. For one, it’s bigger than your old apartment and even has a pretty sizable balcony (that can only be accessed through a window). To your left is the kitchen with exposed brick, a simple small table with four mismatched chairs surrounding it in the middle. 

Just past the modest kitchen is the living area, which is just as eclectically decorated as the kitchen with a sofa, a fluffy looking armchair and an armless chair adjacent to each other, a coffee table, and a television set sitting atop a sideboard. Two doors are on either side of the living room. To the left of the living room is a large window (complete with a cozy looking window seat) which looks out onto the balcony. 

You marvel at the place as Robin leads through the apartment, the rest of the crew following in behind you two before the door slams shut and you enter what appears to be a bedroom slash storage space. Despite the bed in the middle, there are things strewn about on the floor, seemingly haphazardly tossed in here and forgotten about. 

After introductions to the group (you now know their names and the fact that Eddie and Steve live across the hall, while Nancy lives a few blocks away), Robin had informed you the available room at her place might be a bit of a mess since she’s been using it as storage space for a while. The only guests she has live close by enough that sleepovers were a rarity. 

“So, this’ll be your room,” Robin explains, rolling your bursting suitcase inside it. Steve enters last, dropping your trash bag full of clothes to the yellow-ish hardwood floor and you do the same with your backpack. 

It’s a fairly nice room; a simple square spacious enough to fit the queen size bed and a side table, while also allowing extra room still for a chest of drawers and vanity (which you will eventually add to the room). 

Though anything without rats, mold, and a creepy landlord would be an improvement, this place is a definite upgrade from your last and you find yourself containing a joyous squeal as you take it all in. You’ve never been a fan of change–enjoying the comfort of familiarity instead–and have always agonized over every decision you’ve made, but for once, you have no doubts about your decision to come here. This actually feels like the first real decision you have ever made. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When Steve opens the building's front door, the smell of fresh rain and pavement hangs in the air, an oddly nostalgic scent. It reminds you of childhood, of early mornings at summer camp with Robin. 

The sun hangs low and bright orange in the sky–it’s getting late so you’ll probably only be able to make one trip to your car and back before the sun goes down, and then have to collect the rest of your things tomorrow. 

Though you grabbed as much as you could carry from your car (which remains parked in a garage about three blocks away) before going in search of Robin’s apartment, you obviously couldn’t take everything with you, so the bags you just dropped off at your new place were only a fraction of the things packed away in your vehicle. 

Robin’s friends kindly offered to help you drag the rest of your belongings back to her apartment. Since none of them have a car, and it is apparently nearly impossible to find parking in this city, you have no choice but to carry everything back by hand. 

You lead the way to the parking garage, Robin at your side and the rest of the gang following behind you. 

As you walk through the city, past storefronts, HELP WANTED signs in windows, and people with briefcases in long coats and giant scarves walking briskly like they have someplace important to be, you’re reminded of an imperative piece of information.

“Robin?” You say as you cross the street. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t have a job here.” 

The whole reason Robin was looking for a new roommate in the first place was because she can no longer afford her place on her own. And you, as her new roommate, have been recruited to help solve that problem for her. But without a job, and a bank account that is less than impressive, you’re on the clock to find a new job–and fast. 

“You can work at Hannigan’s with Eddie and I!” She offers excitedly, her hand smacking your arm in her enthusiasm. Sorry! She apologizes quickly before continuing: “We’ve been working there forever, I can put in a good word for you with the owner.” 

“That sounds great…But what’s ‘Hannigan’s’?” You ask, because in her haste to offer a solution to your little problem, she had left out vital information. Eddie pipes up from the rear and steps forward so he can walk in step with you and Robin as he answers your question. 

The way the sun hits him from behind outlines his body in a soft orange halo, causing his long hair to shine in the early evening light. This lighting softens his features, making him look angelic and pretty as his pale skin glows. You find yourself content watching him as he speaks.  

“It’s one of those fancy upscale restaurants. The tips are usually pretty good, but sometimes you gotta endure some light harassment to get them,” Eddie explains, and when he sees the apprehensive look on your face, he jumps to reassure you: “Sometimes we get to take home leftovers though.”

“By ‘get to take’, he means steal,” Steve corrects and you look to Robin for confirmation.

She just shrugs. “They’d go to waste anyway.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to invest in some armour, then,” You say, implying that physical armour could somehow protect you from rude customers. Eddie smiles at that, a dimple carving into his cheek. Briefly, you note how charming his smile is, but before you can stare too long, Robin grabs your attention by lightly elbowing you. 

“Don’t worry, snooty rich people can’t be as bad as Harrington's snotty children,” She says. 

“Oh! You have kids?” You wonder, turning to Steve as he strides along casually a few steps behind you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. 

“No, not yet. I work at one of the preschools in the area,” Steve supplies. 

“Oh, nice. You like working with kids?” You wonder. 

His answer is apparent on his face which lights up instantly at the question. “Love it. The kids are really great, and so much more capable than people give them credit for! People are quick to dismiss kids, especially four and five year olds, but they understand more than you think.” Steve rambles, his passion clear. 

“Hey, is this the garage?” Robin asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. 

It is. The place you left your car a mere two hours ago, nervous and unsure of what came next. But now you have a new place, something akin to a job offer, and three kind strangers and one old friend by your side. 

Once you reach your car–which is parked all the way on the top floor–you unlock the back seat doors. 

“Okay, so, let’s try to grab all the stuff from the front and maybe a few things from the back?” You suggest, then move to unlock the trunk of your car where the boys stand. 

“Jesus. How did you pack all this shit in here?” Eddie asks, marvelling at the trunk of your car which is stuffed full of most of your belongings. 

“Are we about to find your kitchen sink packed away in here, or what?” Steve adds. 

“Uh, I don’t know, really,” You say, answering Eddie’s question. “I packed it all up so quickly I didn’t really notice how much stuff it actually was, but it’s like my entire apartment is stuffed into this trunk.” You say, and it kind of is. You’re surprised your trunk could even shut with how crowded it is. 

Robin and Nancy grab the remaining bags from the back seat, while you and the guys grab a couple boxes from the trunk. Then you lock up and start back to your new apartment. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Your first thought when you gain consciousness in your bed is a thought that no one would ever want to have—especially not before eight in the morning. Someone has broken into my apartment. 

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling–your new ceiling! In your new apartment! That you’ve lived in now for a solid 48 hours. But your time here may be cut short if the intruder has plans that involve you and a knife.

You know for a fact that it is not Robin because you share a wall with her and can hear her shuffling around her room getting ready for the day, and the person out in your living room right now definitely opened your front door and is now shuffling around out there.

Thud. 

What the fuck was that?

Most people in your situation might freeze in fear and simply lie in wait for the intruder to come to them, accepting their fate. Others might run and hide. But you, on this random Tuesday in November at 7:43AM were apparently a force to be reckoned with. The Old You might have chosen one of the two above options, but New York You–the new, and hopefully improved, you–has a job interview today and are not going to let some intruder stop you from making it. 

You are not about to have your fresh start end so soon. So, you carefully pull the covers off of your body and as quietly as possible get out of bed.

Inching slowly towards the door, you decide you first need a weapon to defend yourself. There’s no use going out there and meeting the intruder if you can’t protect yourself against them. However, since you’re not in the kitchen, you don’t have access to a knife or any other kitchen utensil that could be wielded as a weapon. And since many of your belongings are still packed away in bags and boxes scattered around the room, you don’t exactly have many options. 

Quickly, you grab the first object you see that could potentially be used to incapacitate the intruder. Then, you very slowly reach for the handle of your door. 

Twisting the handle as gently as you can manage so as not to draw attention to yourself, you begin to open the door, revealing an inch of the kitchen, then another couple inches which reveals a sliver of the living room. Heart racing wildly in your chest, you decide it’s now or never. 

Bursting from your room while brandishing your weapon of choice, you let out what some may describe as a battle cry, startling the intruder in the living room. Startling them so much that they bang their head on the coffee table when they try to get up from where they’re laying on their stomach on the floor between the couch and table. 

You don’t have a great view of the intruder from where you stand right outside your door, so you slowly step toward them where they lie. 

The intruder groans in pain, forehead falling to rest on the rug below them as they bring a hand to the back of their head. A head with long, messy curls that you vaguely recognize. 

Oh. Oh, God. 

“Eddie?” You question meekly, lowering your weapon as waves of guilt crash over you. 

“Uh-huh,” He replies weakly, voice muffled by the rug he’s practically eating. 

“Oh, God,” You moan before placing your weapon on the table and rushing to his side. He lifts his head then, and you help him up onto the couch. He groans again as he sits back into the plush cushions and all you can do is apologize. 

Taking a seat on the coffee table, you grimace at his grimace. “I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder,” You explain, squeezing your fingers in your hand. Your heart still races in your chest. 

“It’s-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Kinda did it to myself,” Eddie jokes, still rubbing the back of his head. You nod once, biting your lip, still feeling guilty because, yeah, he technically did do it himself, but he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stormed out of your room like a crazy person and screamed bloody murder.

As your heart slows to its normal pace, you begin to wonder what he was doing here in the first place—laying on the living room rug for that matter.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but what exactly were you doing on the floor?” You ask, finally taking in his dress now that the situation has deescalated some. He wears red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top so see-through that you catch a glimpse of dark ink beneath the material. The sight steals your breath for a moment. 

“I was, uh, looking for my rings. Thought they might have fallen under the table,” Eddie supplies, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His eyes are warm and soft. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so large and round. He looks like a baby deer or something. A cute, injured baby deer. 

“Oh. Did Robin let you in?” You ask, because it doesn’t matter that he looks like a baby deer, what matters is that it is very possible that he simply let himself into your apartment and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that just yet. I mean, you’ve only just met him and the others two days ago, and have only seen them one other time since then when they had come by to help clear out your new room. 

Eddie looks like the guilty one now as he replies, “Uh, no…?”

“Sorry,” He apologizes quickly. “Let me just…try this again.” 

You’re not sure exactly what he means until he stands and begins walking backwards in the direction of the front door, all the while making strange noises with his mouth that somewhat resemble the sound of rewinding a tape. He’s literally starting over, resetting, going back in time to try this again because he saw you weren’t comfortable with his uninvited presence in your apartment.

All you can do is sit and simply stare at the strange, yet comical display as Eddie awkwardly reaches behind him, opens the door, reverses out into the hallway, and shuts the door with a slam. 

Too stunned to laugh for a moment, you sit in silence for approximately five seconds, thinking that might be the end of it, before a knock sounds at the front door. 

You hesitate, staring at the door strangely. But you’re intrigued now by his strange display, wanting to know how it ends. So you stand and stroll over to the door, opening it to, of course, reveal Eddie, who smiles brightly at you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely. “You mind if I come in?” 

Stifling a giggle, you nod. “Of course.” And open the door wider, stepping to the side to allow him space to enter. He enters swiftly and you shut the door.

Eddie saunters over to the living room once again, about to resume the search for his rings when he spots your weapon of choice sitting innocently on the coffee table where you left it. He pauses and stares at it for a moment, tilting his head, and you stare at his back as you remain in the kitchen, watching as his dark curls shift and fall to one side, cascading over his shoulders. 

The presence of the weapon is new to him since it obviously was not there when he entered the apartment the first time. He also hadn’t seen it even when he’d gotten up from the floor because you’d sat on the coffee table, and therefore blocked his view of the object. 

Now, Eddie wanders over to the coffee table, gingerly picking the weapon up like it’s some sort of precious antique, then spins around smoothly to face you. Holding it loosely at one end, he lets it dangle just above the hardwood floor.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. You stare back at him, unsure of what’s happening. 

“What?” You wonder. 

“What were you gonna use this for?” Eddie asks, tone humorous, and dark eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“To-to defend myself against the intruder,” You answer, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious about your choice of weapon. 

“With a bathrobe tie?” Eddie exclaims, shaking the flimsy terry cloth material around so the long fabric wiggles in the air.  

“Y-yes!” You defend weakly.

“What were you gonna do? Spa-day me to death?” 

“No! I-I thought it could be used to, like—choke someone?” You say, cringing as the words come out of your mouth. 

Eddie barks a laugh. But you can tell he's not laughing at you. He simply finds the situation and your choice amusing. In the little time you’ve spent around Eddie, you don’t get the impression that he’s mean-spirited or judgmental. The exact opposite actually–to you, he’s only been accepting and kind. 

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that. But not very practical,” Eddie critiques.

“My robe was hanging on my door, okay? It’s not like I had a knife in there or something,” You attempt to defend, playing along. 

“Still!” He laughs incredulously. 

“Let me get this straight: first, you break into my apartment, and then I very kindly invite you back in, and you insult my choice of weapon?” 

Eddie seems to mull this over, recalling the events in his mind to confirm that, yes, that is indeed what has happened.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so…Ya know, you should really talk to Harrington. He’s the king of wielding random objects as weapons. When we first moved here, he thought we were getting broken into all the time, and this one time he grabbed our floor lamp and-” 

Before he can finish his story though, Robin comes out from her bedroom, dressed in some jeans and a striped long-sleeve. She makes it a few steps before she notices Eddie and you standing almost ten feet apart in the living room together, both of you still dressed in your pyjamas, and one of you grasping a purple bathrobe tie. Robin stares for a moment like she’s suspicious of something, shifting her eyes from you to Eddie and back again. They land on Eddie when she slowly asks, “What’s going on?” 

“I was looking for my rings. You seen ‘em?” He explains, effectively diverting her attention from the strangeness of the situation. 

“Yeah,” She nods, walking towards the kitchen again. “In the dish by the door.” 

“Cool. Thanks,” Eddie says, walking towards you now. Before he walks past you to retrieve his rings though, he takes hold of the other end of the bathrobe tie, pulling it taught, and presenting it to you with a slight bow. “Your sword, m’lady.” 

Grabbing the tie from him, you thank him, and he continues toward the dish by the door. Eddie’s theatrical and kind of strange, but instead of weirding you out, you find that those traits endear you to him. You’re sick of boring people and to finally be around someone who is so unapologetically themselves is refreshing. Especially someone as interesting as Eddie. 

Turning around to the kitchen where Eddie is carefully rooting through the dish for his rings and Robin is grabbing a juice from the fridge, you realize something strange about what just happened. Though surprisingly, none of it has to do with Eddie. 

“Um-if you were in your room getting ready, how did you not hear my scream?” You ask, because you doubt that she just didn’t hear it. You were pretty loud. 

After taking a sip from the small plastic bottle, Robin explains, “Huh. I guess I’ve learned to sort of tune out the noise. Living across the hall from two idiots who barge into my apartment without warning has kind of become my new normal. Loud, sudden noises aren’t really surprising anymore.”

“It’s worrying how desensitized you are,” You reply, mostly joking. 

Robin takes another sip of her juice and shrugs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.” 

“Ya know, I really hope I don’t.” 

Robins snorts, approaching the counter where Eddie is still picking his rings from the mess of keys and other small trinkets in the dish, and crouches down to retrieve her tote bag from the shelf below the counter. You ball up and toss your robe tie in the general direction of your room before Robin pops back up and turns to grab her juice from the table behind her. 

“Okay, so I gotta go run some errands, but I should be back just after your interview,” She informs and you nod. Eddie goes to leave as well, opening the front door as Robin tells you, “Good luck, you’ll be great!” Then heads for the door as well. 

Gratitude swells in your chest. Robin has been more than kind to you these past two days. Before Saturday, it had been years since you last spoke.

You and Robin were best friends at the summer camp you attended as children and remained close as you entered your teen years and later became camp counsellors at the same camp. You were the first person she ever came out to and it often felt like you shared a brain; for many years she was your sister. 

Despite your living hours and hours away, you and Robin maintained your friendship during the non-summer months; talking on the phone often and mailing letters back and forth. 

Eventually, though, your individual lives got busy and neither of you had the time to maintain the long-distance friendship or attend summer camp as counsellors anymore. Phone calls decreased and letters stopped being written and mailed, until eventually, your friendship fizzled out. There was no major falling out of any sort; the end of your friendship was simply the result of poor management on both ends. 

You often thought about calling her up to see how she was, but it wasn’t until last week that you made the impulsive decision to contact her again. And you’re glad you did. She’s given you a new home and she even helped you set up your job interview at Hannigan’s. You’re grateful that she’s given you the opportunity to start fresh in this new city with new, interesting people, but much of your gratitude comes from the chance you now both have to breathe life back into your cherished friendship.

“Hey,” You call, causing Robin to pause and turn to you before she exits the apartment, brows expectantly raised. “I know I’ve already said it so many times, but I just want to say thank you one more time for everything you’ve done for me these past two days. And I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been friends…but you’re a really good friend.” 

Robin smiles softly at you. “You’re a really good friend too. You always have been.” 

It’s then you rush to her at the door where you embrace her in the biggest hug and hope the action translates the magnitude of your thankfulness and love for her. 

“I’ll see you later,” She says after you part, walking out into the hallway. 

You sigh.

It has been one hectic morning, and your interview starts at 10:30, so you should probably start getting ready now. But Eddie lingers in the hallway, just outside his front door. 

Before you can even say anything, he preemptively apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, eavesdrop, but you have your interview at Hannigan’s today?” 

You’re not mad though. Nothing you said was a secret. And so far, you trust Eddie. He cares about the way people around him are feeling and takes action to remedy situations where people aren’t happy or comfortable. That much is clear from this morning. It’s why you don’t dismiss him and leave to get ready. He’s a good person. 

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Eddie takes a couple steps forward so he’s standing just inside your apartment once again. 

“Would it help if I gave you some tips? I’ve been working there for a while and I kinda know what they’re looking for, so-”

“That would be great!” You exclaim, because you really need this job if you want to continue living here. 

Eddie just smiles brightly at your reaction as you say, “Just let me get dressed and then I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, grabbing the edge of the door on his way out to close it. 

“Oh! And Eddie?” You call out just before the door shuts. 

“Yeah?” He responds, popping his head back in the apartment. 

“I really am so sorry about this morning.” 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for breaking in…Although you seemed pretty unprepared, so, yaknow, this was probably a good learning experience for you,” He teases, that same sparkle in his eyes that had appeared when he was questioning your weapon returning. 

You bite your lip over a smile as Eddie winks at you and disappears behind the door, the heavy wood slamming softly shut. 

Getting ready in record time, you end up knocking on Eddie’s door across the hall approximately one hour later, leaving more than enough time for Eddie to give you interview tips and for you to walk over to Hannigan’s to arrive early. 

As you stand in the hall awaiting his answer, you feel oddly giddy, a swarm of nervous butterflies fluttering rapidly in your belly. Briefly, you think your butterflies can be explained on account of Eddie making you nervous. But you bat that thought away as you hear footsteps approaching and remind yourself that it’s more likely that your upcoming job interview has caused the butterflies. 

When Eddie answers his door, you find he’s also gotten dressed in the hour since you’ve seen each other. He wears a simple black t-shirt with a band name and logo you don’t recognize on the front with a long-sleeve underneath, and some light-wash jeans. His hair is noticeably more tame, his curls flowing neatly over his shoulders. Eddie also wears the silver rings he was searching for this morning; three on one hand, and one on the other. The fluttering in your belly intensifies for a moment, but again, you bat them away. 

“You wanna come in or are we gonna do this out in the hall?” Eddie jokes when you make no move to enter his apartment, unaware of this strange battle you’re having within yourself at his doorstep. 

Shaking yourself free of your thoughts, you mutter a quick apology and take his joke as an invitation to enter. As you do, you realize this is the first time you’ve been inside his apartment. Which isn’t a surprising fact. You’ve only been here for two full days, and haven’t really left your apartment much since then.

His apartment is smaller and you might describe it as drab, but their decor choices are vibrant in their own way. 

The kitchen is immediately to your right as you enter, a table to your left, and as you wander further into the room, a counter separates the entrance slash kitchen area from the living room. In the living room sits two black recliners and a large wood entertainment centre with a television set. On either side of this are two closed doors. 

The far right side of the apartment has two windows and a red sofa sitting beneath it. Beside that is another door, this one open (revealing tiled floor and a closed shower curtain). 

There isn’t much in the way of wall decoration (aside from a lone dart board hanging on the wall and a few posters), but on some of the shelves of the entertainment centre are framed photographs. Some of the photos feature what appears to be two younger versions of Steve and Eddie, presumably taken in high school. In one photo, Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they both hold beer cans in their hands. Eddie smiles cheekily for the camera, while Steve puts on a faux grimace at his friends close proximity. 

Other photos feature boys who appear to be much younger than Steve and Eddie (possibly siblings?) and there are also photos that include Robin and Nancy, some recent and others clearly taken years ago. Another includes Steve and Eddie carrying a boy with curly hair–who wears a graduation cap and gown–on their shoulders, all of them smiling widely. You can tell it's candid as they all appear to be laughing and unaware of the camera photographing them. 

“Who’s this?” You ask curiously, pointing at the photo as you turn around, finding that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot at the door and has likely been watching you inspect his living area this whole time. Suddenly you feel like you’re intruding. “Sorry, I-”

“No worries. You can look. That’s what they’re there for,” He shrugs, finally joining you in the living room. 

At your side now, Eddie inspects the photo you pointed to and a fond smile crosses his face. His side profile is soft, and you spy just a hint of shaven stubble on his cheeks. It distracts you for a moment. 

“Dustin,” Eddie says after a beat. 

“What?” You ask dumbly, now preoccupied with the freckles you’ve spotted that dot his pale skin lightly. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. All you’d have to do to get right into his personal space is take one short step forward. But of course you won’t do that. Why would you? 

Eddie looks from the photograph to you. “In the picture,” He explains, nodding to the framed image. “That’s Dustin. It was taken at his high school graduation, like, two years ago? He’s a good kid…Well, he’s not really a kid anymore, but I guess it still feels like that sometimes.” 

“How do you know him?” You hear yourself say. The kid looks like he’s about five years younger than Eddie and Steve, so naturally you’re curious about how they know him. 

You’re supposed to be here getting pointers for your job interview, but instead, you find that you’re more interested in the details of Eddie’s life. 

“Uh, we were in high school together and I had this club that he was a part of,” Eddie explains, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“What kind of club?” You wonder, electing to ignore the fact that he somehow attended high school with this kid. 

He seems reluctant to provide you with an answer to your question. Up until now, he’s been a pretty open book; someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. But now all of the sudden, he’s guarded? 

“I won’t judge, yaknow,” You reassure, because you won’t, but also because his reluctance to reveal what sort of club he ran makes you all the more curious to find out. 

Eddie side eyes you, squinting. He must determine that your remark is genuine because he straightens up from where he’d bent slightly to view the photo and provides you with an answer. 

“Ever heard of DnD? Dungeons and Dragons?” 

You furrow your brows for a moment, vaguely recognizing the name, but not remembering why. 

“Oh!” You exclaim after a beat. “Yes! Was that the one that people were freaking out about years ago cause they thought it caused Satanism?”

Eddie snaps his fingers as he responds, “That’s the one.” 

Then, he glances back at the photograph, and you think you can almost make out memories behind his eyes. Fond ones. You lean forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes again.

“You still play?” 

Your question shakes him out of his momentary reverie, and he looks to you once again. “Not as much as I used to…But Dustin and the other guys and I try to organize a couple meetings throughout the year. It’s hard though because everyone’s kinda spread out now. And busy.”

His tone is wistful as he continues to glance around at the photos sitting on the shelf. Had you just upset him? First, you assist him in banging his head against your coffee table and now you’re potentially causing him some emotional pain too! Good going. 

You’re about to apologize or change the subject, but Eddie speaks before you can. “Anyway! We should probably talk about your interview now. How long do we have?”

Looking around the room to find a clock, you spot one by the door. The little hand points toward the nine and the large hand points toward the six. 

“About a half hour before I should get going,” You respond, turning back to Eddie as he takes a seat on one of the recliners behind you. You sit down as well. 

“Great. So…do you have any questions first?” Eddie asks, unsure where to start. 

“Uh,” You say, trying to remember any questions you had, but you can’t seem to recall any as you roll up the sleeves of your thick sweater, the ink on your wrist and forearms revealed as the fabric is pulled back. 

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes shoot down to the action and for the first time, he catches sight of the ink.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” He remarks, like it’s something he should have known. As if it’s been more than 48 hours since you met and it’s ridiculous that he didn’t know. 

“Oh. Yeah,” You say absentmindedly, glancing down at your arms. 

“Tip number one: your tattoos are sick, but at Hannigan’s, they aren’t exactly appreciated, so you should make sure you cover them up.”

“Gotcha,” You say, rolling your sleeves back down the length of your arms.

Suddenly you’re reminded of your first day when you spotted his inked arms. The seven bats decorating his forearm. “Um…Yours are really cool by the way,” You compliment. 

Then, “When did you get your first one?” You ask, veering further off topic. You can’t seem to stop yourself and you don’t know why. 

“Uh…heh,” Eddie huffs a short laugh, almost as if he’d forgotten until this very second when you’d asked him. “I think I was, like, 16, 17? I did a really shitty stick-and-poke on my leg–the initials of my band name: Corroded Coffin.”

Every new thing you learn about Eddie intrigues you. Of course this long-haired, tattoo-having, ring-wearing, Dungeons and Dragons-playing 20-something would also have been in a band. Your surprise is likely evident on your face.

“You’ll have to come to one of our gigs sometime,” Eddie invites casually, as if it’s not the most cool thing to say in the world. Eddie didn’t used to be in a band, Eddie is in a band! 

“You’re still in the band?” 

“Yeah, the other guys live out here too, and we do regular gigs a few times a week…but, um, what about you? When did you get your first tattoo?” 

Still gaping at him, you must pick your jaw up off the ground before you can respond. Cool and humble. How is he real?

“Oh, um, I was 18…I actually got it cause I knew my mom would hate it and it would probably piss her off,” You say, a little embarrassed by that fact. You don’t know why you reveal the information to him in the first place. Maybe because for some odd reason you know he won’t tell anyone. Even still—his story was way cooler. Especially since it preceded the reveal that he’s in a band. But maybe that’s also part of the reason you share it. You want him to think you’re just as interesting as he is—though you’re not sure who would be impressed by the information you just shared. 

“Did it work?” Eddie asks. To your surprise, he seems invested in your answer, leaning over the edge of the recliner's armrest. As if what you’ve said was equally as interesting as his response. 

“Did what work?” 

“Was she pissed?” 

“Oh!” You say, like a total ditz. “Um, yeah. Big time. She hates tattoos.” 

“Is that why you have all of them?”

“No, I only got the first one to make her mad. And then when I realized I really loved it, I just kept getting them,” You respond, pushing your sleeve back slightly to brush the one on your wrist with your thumb. 

When you look back up at him he’s smiling softly at you, but he quickly averts his gaze and his eyes find the clock on the wall. “Shit,” He says, a little panicked. “We only have 20 minutes.”

Whipping your head around to glance at the clock, the hands confirm that it’s 20 to 10 and you’ve barely discussed what you came here to discuss. 

“I guess we’ll just have to lightning round this shit,” Eddie says, determination set in his tone. 

And you do lightning round this shit. In just over 20 minutes, Eddie tells you as much as he can about the owner of the restaurant—Cordelia—who is going to be interviewing you. He tells you how to sit, what to say, how to say it, anything and everything he can think of to help you secure a job at this place. 

As you two stand and Eddie walks you to the door, he shoots you a few final pointers.

 “Obviously it helps that you have experience working at an upscale restaurant, so, um, she’ll probably ask you about that too,” Eddie says, and you nod.

When you reach the door, you turn to him. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say sincerely. “You really didn’t have to do this, so it means a lot that you did.” 

“Of course I did,” Eddie replies, like it's just that simple. Your brows furrow. “You’re a member of this party now, and as a fellow party member, it’s my duty to help other party members out when they’re in need.”

“A ‘party member’?” 

You’re sure you catch the faintest blush across his cheeks from your question.

“Sorry, uh, I guess it just means you’re one of us now…A friend,” Eddie explains. 

“A friend,” You repeat. And you find the word involuntarily pulls your lips into a soft smile. 

“Anyway, you should probably get going,” Eddie reminds with another glance at the clock. 

“Yeah, okay,” You agree, turning to open the door.  “Oh, um, where did you say the restaurant was again?” You ask when you’re out in the hallway. 

“It’s um…You know what? Why don’t I just walk you there?” Eddie offers. 

“Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Eddie says with a charming smile. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Cordelia was an intense woman. Eddie had warned you of this, though you had wildly underestimated the level of intensity the woman embodied. She was tall, and wore her long, black hair up in a sleek ponytail, not a flyaway in sight. Her office was large and so neat that you thought it looked like some sort of staged set for a decor magazine. 

During your interview, you learned exactly one thing about Cordelia: Cordelia does not fuck around. She did not have time for exchanging pleasantries, and a simple handshake and a “take a seat” was the only introduction she provided you with before she began the interview, which mostly felt more like a police interrogation than a job interview. 

By the end, you thought you felt good about how it went, but Cordelia was hard to read. You never once saw her smile or provide you with any kind of verbal or non-verbal communication that would indicate that she was impressed with your resume or any of your answers to her questions.

It was likely one of the most strange job interviews you had ever had. It didn’t necessarily leave you full of hope as you got up from the leather upholstered chair and Cordelia informed you that you would receive a call if she decided to hire you. 

Walking through the restaurant–which was void of patrons, but had some staff preparing and setting up for opening in a few hours–, you finally come to the large glass entrance doors, and push one open. The late November chill blasts you in the face immediately and the switch from the warmth of the restaurant to this shiver-worthy weather is jarring. Had it somehow dropped five degrees from when you’d walked here? 

Turning right and beginning your trek back home, you hear a voice call out your name from behind you. 

You ignore it at first, thinking that the person can’t be calling out to you since you know a grand total of four people so far (five if you count Cordelia—but you don’t) and surely there are other people in this massively diverse city that also have your name. 

“Hey!” The voice calls again once you’ve made it no more than fifteen feet from the restaurant. 

Finally, you stop walking and spin around to locate the source, and what you find surprises you.

Eddie is currently jogging toward you. 

He’d waited this whole time? Out in the freezing cold? With that effortlessly cool leather jacket that is an extremely pathetic excuse for a winter coat and is definitely doing nothing to keep the warmth in?

“Hey,” He says again once he reaches you. 

“Hey,” You say. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Eddie.” Because he really didn’t and you don’t want to be a burden or make him think you’re taking advantage of his kindness. 

“Seeing as you’re going in the wrong direction, it’s probably a good thing I did,” Eddie tells you, nodding back in the other direction with a gentle, c’mon. You feel your face warm even as the wind whips you. 

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly, walking in step with Eddie—in the correct direction now.

“So, how’d it go? Did you crush it?” He asks hopefully, head turned to look at you, and his shoulders pushed up by his red-tipped ears as though he’s trying to conserve heat. 

The furrow in your brow and your soft stuttering must be enough for Eddie to understand exactly how it went, as he speaks before you can provide him with your best approximation of how the interview might have gone. 

“Yeah, that’s normal with Cordelia. That woman is impossible to read,” He says, shaking his head as you both stop at a crosswalk. 

“Right? Oh my God. I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” You say, relieved because that means that the interview wasn’t a total disaster. Is that what that means?

“Yeah, we call her Medusa,” Eddie remarks with a sidelong glance at you. 

You snort unattractively at the nickname and just as quickly bring your hand to your face, covering your mouth as if the action could force the sound back in. 

“Fitting,” You say, coughing as a cover for the noise when Eddie looks at you, brows raised, supposedly amused by your amusement. 

Eddie smirks to himself, barely noticeable, before asking, “Did she say she’d call?” As you look both ways before crossing the street with many other bundled-up New Yorkers. 

“Uh, yeah, why?” 

“That’s a good sign,” He answers, his shoulders shaking with a sudden shiver. That simple statement allows just a little drop of hope to blossom in your chest. 

“Are you cold?” You ask because he can’t not be freezing. He’s not exactly convincing you otherwise. 

“Yeah. I can’t feel my fingers,” Eddie states plainly.

“Wanna jog the rest of the way?” You offer, mostly joking. 

“Please,” He replies anyway.

Though you don’t exactly jog the last few blocks home, you do pick up the pace, and when you get back you make him some tea to warm him up (and hopefully bring back feeling in his fingers). 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Since your interview every time the phone rings you basically leap over any obstacles in your way to get to the phone, hoping it will be Cordelia calling about your waitressing position as Hannigan’s. But each time the phone rings and it’s a telemarketer, or the bank, or anyone other than Medusa herself, you lose just a little more of that small inkling of hope you allowed yourself to have. 

At present, you sit on the couch in the living room beside Robin while you eat noodles; the rest of the Chinese spread sitting on the coffee table in front of you or in the laps of Steve, Eddie, and Robin. 

On the plush chair to your left sits Steve who is currently chowing down on some dumplings while staring with rapt attention at the television, and Eddie–who announced his newfound aversion to normative seating options upon his arrival in your home–sits on the floor by your socked feet. 

Though the TV is on, you aren’t really paying attention. It’s been just over a week now since you moved in and one week to the day since your interview, and by now you’ve lost all hope. 

Privately, you decided that you would call time of death on this potential job by the end of today and start searching for a new one tomorrow. You know there’s plenty of other jobs out there, but the prospect of working with Robin and Eddie had excited you and made you a whole lot less anxious about working in this new city.  

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

Hope surges inside of you despite your intentions of abandoning it. Suddenly, you feel three sets of eyes on you. Even Steve—who had been incredibly invested in the lifeguards running in slow motion on the television screen—looks at you now. 

They all knew you’d been waiting for the call. They also knew that you hadn’t received one. Not the one, at least. You wish you had time to get up and answer the phone that sits on the side table in your bedroom because you’d really rather not admit to them that it’s simply another telemarketer. 

Since you don’t have the time to reach the phone in your bedroom though, you pull in a deep breath, reach over the sofa arm, and pick up the landline that sits on the glass end table. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, this is Cordelia Hannigan from Hannigan’s-”

And after that you think you black out. Because you don’t hear anything after that. Because this is the happiest you’ve ever been about getting a call about a job. Which sounds ridiculous since it’s just a waitressing job. But it represents so much more. It’s the seal that cements your place in this city with these people. It represents your new beginning. 

With that realization you decide that you should probably listen to your new beginning. Trying your best to tune into Cordelia’s words, you hear her throwing words and phrases around like strict dress code and uniform and training and first shift. When she’s done, you tell her thank you, and return the phone to the base, hanging it up with a resolute click. 

Three sets of eyes remain on you and your frozen body. When you don’t say anything after one second of hanging up, they get restless. 

“So?” Steve prompts, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation. 

“Was it Medusa?” Robin asks from your side. 

You nod slowly, not believing it yourself. “Uh-huh…I got the job.” 

“You got the job!” They all shout in freaky unison. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You think you hear Steve mutter déjà-vu to himself as Robin and Eddie continue their cheering and congratulating. 

“I-I start training this week and my first shift next week,” You inform. 

And then Eddie’s shouting, “Speech, speech, speech!” with his hands cupped over his mouth as if you’re much further away from him. 

“Alright, alright!” You acquiesce as the others join his chant, putting your noodles down on the coffee table and getting up to stand in front of the television.

“Um, I guess I just want to thank all of you,” You begin, feeling suddenly sincere, but still maintaining a note of jest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Steve, you helped me transport and unpack most of my shit. And I have a lot of shit.”

He nods in agreement. “And I couldn’t have focused on prepping for the interview if I was worried about my stuff sitting in my car in that garage, so thank you…Robin, you helped me set up the interview with Cordelia-”

“Medusa,” Robin and Eddie correct simultaneously. 

“Medusa,” You correct yourself. “And you also recommended me for the position. So, thank you…And last, but certainly not least, Eddie,” You say, smiling softly when you catch his eye. He smiles right back at you, that charming dimple appearing on his face as he does. 

“Without your pointers I probably would not have made it through the interview without being turned to stone.”–Eddie snorts–“And I also probably would have gotten completely lost and wandered into the East River if you hadn’t been there when I left. So, thank you…” You tell him sincerely, the partially joking tone you had maintained throughout your cheesy speech erased completely now since your gaze had fallen on him. 

“Good night, New York!” You finish, trying to play up the cheesiness now to divert from the seriousness that had snuck into your tone, and you bow dramatically as Robin and Eddie clap and woop. But Steve, you notice, is glancing oddly as Eddie.

You laugh as you take your seat, plucking your cardboard box of noodles off the table as you go. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“Robin!” You hear Steve call from out in the living room, his voice muffled slightly through your closed bedroom door. “The door!” 

Robin’s door creaks open before you hear her exit her bedroom. 

“You couldn’t have gotten it?” She complains as she walks through the apartment to answer the door. 

“No. Baywatch is on,” Steve replies like his answer needs no further explanation. You snicker to yourself as you button up your pressed, white uniform shirt. You swear you can hear Robin’s eyes rolling. 

Baywatch was Steve’s favourite TV show; he never missed an episode—except for last week when a meeting at his school ran longer than expected and he’d called Robin to get her to tape it for him. He decided that now–while you were both getting ready to leave for work–was the perfect time to come over and watch it (instead of taking the tape back to his place since your TV is better anyway). 

The apartment's front door–which remains perpetually unlocked when you and Robin are home–opens and you listen closely to hear who it might be while you work on tucking your shirt into your formal black dress pants. 

“Oh. Hey, Eddie,” You hear Robin greet, though it sounds more like a question with the confusion lacing her tone. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his footsteps tapping against the faux hardwood as Robin shuts the door with a loud slam. 

With a quick glance over at your alarm clock, you find that it’s almost time to leave. The realization sends nervous butterflies to flight in your belly. Tonight is your very first shift at Hannigan’s. 

Last week you had your training, which was nerve-wracking, but tonight was the real thing. Tonight you would be earning your first dollar, receiving your first tip, suggesting wine pairings, and probably dealing with rude customers. And all of it makes you nervous. 

It’s scary for so many reasons, for more reasons than just the fact that new jobs (no matter what they are) are always scary. It’s scary because it’s the next step in the process of making a new–hopefully better–life for yourself here. For that reason, you want it to go well. But you aren’t sure what ‘well’ really means in this situation. 

“Y/N!” Robin calls, shaking you from your thoughts. “Cab’s here!” 

Blowing out a quick breath, and trying your best to shake out your nerves, you grab your jacket and bag and exit your bedroom, still feeling those butterflies, but determined not to let them shake you. At least not too much. 

Leaning against the now open apartment door is Eddie who’s dressed in the same black dress pants and white button-up as you and Robin. He shoots you an easy smile as you emerge from your room, and you smile back. 

His long hair, which he usually lets flow over his shoulders in soft waves, is now tied in a low bun. He’s missing his usual chunky silver rings and all his tattoos are hidden beneath his sleeves and a highly buttoned collar. 

Though it’s strange to see him stripped of his unique accessories, you find yourself scrolling your eyes over his body. With his hair away from his face, his features are highlighted, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making his eyes appear somehow larger. 

As your eyes move down his body, you note the way his arms look in the button up, how his thighs fill out the dress pants. You find yourself missing his rings though. Something twists in your belly, though this time it’s not nerves. 

“Ready?” Robin’s voice asks, once again shaking you from your thoughts. She must notice that you weren’t entirely there, that you were lost in your thoughts because she stops shoving things into her bag to ask: “You okay?” 

Ripping your gaze away from Eddie and turning to Robin, you reply, “Yeah!” in a voice much higher than your own. You cough quickly as a cover and repeat your words, sounding much less caught out the second time. 

“Okay,” Robin drawls suspiciously. “Well, we should really get down to the cab now cause we probably have about 60 seconds before they decide to leave and force us to brave the windchill ourselves,” She informs, pulling her jacket on and shoving her tote bag over her shoulder. “Alright, you’ll lock up and we’ll see you at the coffee house afterwards?” Robin asks Steve. 

“Yeah, sure,” He replies absentmindedly from where he’s glued to the sofa. 

“Shit, I should probably get my keys then,” You mutter. If they’re going to the coffee house after your shift, then you can’t rely on Robin unlocking the door for you if you’re not together when you get home. 

Before you can walk back to your room to retrieve your keys though, Steve pipes up. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the television since he got here. 

“Wait, you’re not coming?” He asks, his body twisted to look at you with his arm draped over the back of the couch. 

“Oh,” You reply dumbly because ‘we’ apparently included you. You were a part of the ‘we’ Robin meant. ‘We’, as in Robin, Eddie, Steve, and you.

It’s not like they haven’t been welcoming since you got here, but it’s only been a few weeks and they’ve been friends and neighbours for years; you thought it might take them longer to accept you into the group since they’re so solid. A part of you felt like they might still see you as an outsider; someone who doesn’t get invited to their after-work coffee shop hangouts just yet. But they’d expected you to come. Sometime within the last couple weeks you became a part of their definition of ‘we’.

“No, I’ll come,” You confirm with a nod in an attempt to appear casual about the invite. 

“Awesome,” Steve says, turning back to the television. 

“Guys!” Robin shouts and you realize then that she’s no longer in the apartment. Eddie pokes his head out into the hall as Robin says, “Come on, the cab is waiting!” 

“Yep, coming,” Eddie says and you follow right behind him, feeling so many things all at once. Nervous about your shift, excited about being invited to the coffee house, and another thing for Eddie that you can’t quite name just yet. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

The fast-paced environment of Hannigan’s is overwhelming, and while normally it might frazzle you, you find that you don’t mind it nearly as much as you thought you might. It’s definitely a different environment than your last job–a desk job that only promoted boredom within you–, but the new challenge of this place is stimulating.

As the night goes on, the din of the restaurant only intensifies; nearly every table and booth is filled with patrons talking and enjoying their 5-star meals, the sounds of cutlery clashing against fine china, hosts and hostesses greeting people at the entrance and making reservations for customers over the phone for months from now, the sizzling, clinking sounds roaring from the kitchen when the swinging traffic doors open, then shushing when the doors close again. 

With just over an hour left of your shift and the clearing of what feels like the thousandth table you’ve waited on tonight, you watch as yet another diner is seated in your section. He’s a tall man, his dark hair styled precisely atop his head, and has a short goatee beard, trimmed to perfection. It reminds you of Kurt Cobain’s facial hair, though nothing else about him resembles the rock icon. The man looks rich–though you suppose most people who dine here are. From what you can tell with the distance between you, he might be about ten years your senior.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you begin to stride over to his table, though you are just as soon intercepted, a large hand gently engulfing your wrist. You turn and find that the hand is attached to Eddie, his deep brown eyes staring back at you, and suddenly the contact brings heat to your face and a zip of something unnamable down your arm. Both of you retract your hands swiftly before Eddie explains his interception: “Why don’t you let me take this table, yeah?”

Confusion muddles your features for a moment. Why on earth would Eddie want to take on another table? It’s busy enough in here as it is. Plus, taking a table that is not in your section is strictly against the rules and as it’s your very first shift here, you’re not quite comfortable enough just yet to bend any rules. Especially not when they were fiercely outlined to you by Cordelia, who you were sure that if she possessed the powers of Medusa like Eddie and Robin say, she would surely turn you to stone if she caught you breaking any of them. 

Since you’re not willing to risk getting yourself or Eddie into any sort of trouble, you tell him: “You have your own section to worry about, Eddie. Don’t worry about mine, I got this.” With an easy smile in hopes of further reassuring him, though you’re not sure of what. 

You barely make it a few steps in the direction of your table before he’s stopping you again, this time with a gentle hand at your elbow. 

“It’s just that…I’ve had that guy in my section before and he’s…difficult,” Eddie explains, struggling to come up with a word to describe him and seemingly being displeased with the one he chose as his brows furrowed together. 

Oh. 

His explanation causes heat to rise to your face, warming your entire chest with a strange fuzzy feeling. Was Eddie trying to protect you? If he was, that was very sweet of him, but still, you can’t allow him to take this table for you–even though you feel like you could melt to mush in his grasp right now. 

“I’ve dealt with difficult people all evening,” You say. “I’ve got this.” 

Before he can protest anymore or continue to convince you not to take the table, you’re walking away from him, your soft skin slipping from his gentle grip. 

Eddie watches you walk away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as you greet Paul and hand him the menu. The second Eddie sees that trademark salacious smirk creep across Paul’s face, Eddie’s jaw clenches involuntarily, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

Had he had any right to try to do anything about it before? To try to take your table? He hasn’t known you very long, so who is he to step in and attempt to protect you from that creep? He shouldn’t even feel this protective of you, this jealous. What the fuck is going on with him lately? 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Collapsing onto the big fluffy couch at The Ugly Mug, you feel yourself instantly sink into the soft cushions. Have they always felt like literal clouds molding perfectly to your body or does it just seem that way after being on your feet for hours? 

Now that your first shift is over you can appreciate how truly tiring it was. Adrenaline must have helped you stay on your feet all night, helped you acclimate to the job, but now that you’re seated in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop, all that energy has left you entirely. 

“Ugh, is it always this exhausting?” You sigh, slumped between Robin and Eddie. Steve sits on a plush chair next to the couch. 

“I-” Robin begins, but Eddie interrupts before she can finish. 

“Don’t lie to her, Rob,” Eddie says, sensing that Robin was likely about to lie in order to comfort you. 

“Fine,” She replies, sighing, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones as well. “It is. It’s always this exhausting…” 

“But,” Robin drawls teasingly, pushing herself up so she’s no longer slumped down on the couch. “It’s not every shift you get hit on,” She says, wiggling her brows suggestively at you. 

“What? Who got hit on?” Steve pipes up curiously, placing his pastry down on the round table beside him. 

“Y/N,” Robin confirms teasingly, and you cover your face with your hands. 

Eddie huffs from beside you as Steve says, “What? No way! By who?” 

“One of the rich guys. I think he’s a new regular–Paul,” Robin answers, a childish tone to her voice when she says his name that makes you think she might start singing Sitting In A Tree with yours and Paul’s names any second now. 

Steve’s eyes widen comically and Eddie grumbles something incoherent from your side, but you don’t get the chance to ask him what he said before Steve is hurriedly asking: “So? What happened?”

“Well, he asked me out,” You reply, a little embarrassed from their excitement as you adjust so your legs are crossed under you. Paul was charming from the moment you handed him his menu, all smiles and classic handsomeness. 

“And you said?” 

“I said yes,” You reply quietly at the same time as Robin exclaims, She said yes! She’d cackled when you’d told her about it at your lockers after your shift ended, joking that you could quit Hannigan’s and Paul could become your sugar daddy instead. 

Normally, you might have declined such an offer from someone you’d just met–especially if that someone was 10 years older than you–, but the whole point of this move was change. Change required doing things you might not normally do, it required some spontaneity and courage. Both of which were not necessarily your strong suits, but you were trying. The first step was simply saying yes to things. 

Steve smiles, impressed. “Alright, Y/L/N!” 

And then, realization dawns over his features and he quickly turns his attention to Robin. 

“Speaking of dates…” Steve begins, using the same salacious tone Robin had used earlier. “Robin, how are things going with Alicia?” 

Looking at Robin, her eyes widen as she replies, “Oh my God, I totally spaced and forgot to tell you!” 

Leaning in closer to Eddie on your other side, you whisper, “Who’s Alicia?” 

“This girl Robin’s been seeing for a bit,” He answers easily. 

You tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Robin inform, “I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Even if you weren’t looking at her right now you’d be able to hear the smile in her voice. 

“That’s great, what’d she say?” Steve asks, jumping in even as Robin opens her mouth to continue, clearly not finished speaking.

“She said yes!” Robin exclaims, not even pausing to tease him about his over-eagerness to hear the rest of the story or give him a playful roll of her eyes like she usually might. This Alicia woman must mean a lot to Robin if she’s obliged to censor her usual sarcastic quips. 

“Fuck yeah!” Says Steve as he high fives Robin and you chuckle at their odd celebration. 

“Robin, that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” You congratulate, hand on her shoulder, remembering when you were teens and she never thought she’d get to have a girlfriend. Robin smiles sheepishly now. 

What a satisfying end to the day. You’re exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. It feels like things are finally falling into place, like you’d been putting together a puzzle and some of the pieces had gone missing. But you’ve found some of them, and now you’re sliding them into their places. And they fit. For the first time, you feel like you fit, and that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay–that you’re going to be okay. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“So,” Robin drawls as she places two juices on the kitchen table in front of you, one for her and one for you. “Where’s he taking you?” 

“I don’t know yet, actually. All I know is that it’s ‘somewhere nice’ and he’s going to be picking me up at 7:30-ish,” You reply as you twist the cap off your drink. 

“Mysterious,” Robin comments after taking a sip of her juice.

“Your date’s tonight?” Steve asks as he wanders into the kitchen and sticks his head into the fridge, likely scouring the shelves for a snack. 

“Yeah, why?”

Steve stands from his bent position inside the fridge and turns to you and Robin, a slice of cold pizza in hand. “Mine too! Gonna bring her her favourite flowers, take her to her favourite restaurant, go see the tree at Rockefeller–the whole shebang.” 

Steve takes a giant bite out of his pizza slice, then slides over to the table and steals Robin’s drink. She makes a disgusted face at him in protest and pushes the drink away from her when he places it back on the table after taking a healthy swig.

“That’s really sweet, Steve. I’m sure she’ll have a great time,” You tell him genuinely. 

“Ugh!” Robin groans, drawing your attention away from Steve as her head falls back on her shoulders dramatically. “Stop talking about dates! I haven’t seen Alicia in three days and I have a shift tonight,” She complains, pouting. 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Steve mutters, taking his slice with him into the living room where he joins Eddie and Nancy–who sit on the armchair and couch, reading and writing, respectively. 

“Whatever,” Robin replies, slumping down in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Aren’t you seeing her tomorrow?” You ask though you know the answer because it’s all that she’s talked about since she last saw Alicia. You’re sure you could pick the girl out of a crowd without ever having seen her just from everything Robin has spewed to you about her. It’s nice to see her happy. 

“Yeah,” Robin says, tone solemn. 

“Why do you sound disappointed?” You wonder with a chuckle.

“Because tomorrow is not right now,” Robin explains and you snort at her impatience to see her girlfriend again. 

God, you don’t remember the last time you felt that way about someone; wanting to be around them all the time, missing them the second they left your side. Maybe it was college the last time you’d felt that way? You haven’t really dated since then. That one disastrous blind date your previous co-workers set you up on does not count. You’d actually prefer to block it out of your memory. 

Robin sighs. “Anyway, I should hop in the shower before my shift,” She says as she stands and heads to the bathroom. She’s genuinely bummed that she won’t get to see Alicia until tomorrow 

“Have fun,” You joke, head falling back on your shoulders as you watch her walk into the bathroom upside-down. You think you hear a sarcastic ha-ha from her before the door shuts. 

Also upside-down from your current perspective is Eddie who you see sliding the window to the balcony open before ducking under it and going out onto the balcony.

He’s been off all night. While usually he would be cracking jokes and being his usual over-dramatic, loud self, tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself. You’ve spent enough time around him by now to tell when something might be up with him. 

Standing and grabbing the large throw blanket tossed over one end of the couch, you wrap it around yourself before going to the window, sliding it open again and carefully ducking under it as you step out into the chilly night. 

The remnants of winter's early sunset remains on the horizon, lining the city in a dark blue hue while the sky above and beyond that is blanketed by blackness and a dull smattering of stars. That’s the one thing you miss about living in a small town; the lack of light pollution allowed for the stars in the sky to burn bright. Here, it’s impossible to make out a constellation from the street. You suppose the city lights are as close to stars as you’ll get out here.

Eddie leans against the brick and concrete balcony wall, his forearms perched on the cold surface, watching the city as plumes of cigarette smoke swirl around his head. He turns to look at you when he hears you approaching, tucking his chin to his shoulder. 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

“Um,” Eddie begins, unsure of how to phrase this so it doesn’t sound like he’s shooing you off. Just because he doesn’t understand why you’re out here with him doesn’t mean he wants you to leave. He enjoys your company, wants to be around you more. As much as possible, actually. “Did-did you need something?” 

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, “No. No, I just wanted to come check on you.” Though it sounds more like a question. Like you’re prompting him gently. 

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie replies, surprised and not sure what else to say to that. You’re so thoughtful and observant it makes his chest hurt. 

Eddie can feel you examining his face closely and he lets you, continuing to stare out at the city below. 

“I can leave if you-” 

“No,” Eddie replies suddenly before you can even finish your sentence, his eyes finding yours as he says it. Your eyes are wide, expectant. “I mean-no. You’re good.” 

“Okay,” You say, settling in beside him.  

The conversation tapers off again and you’re left with the sounds of honking cars, the muffled racket of people talking in the street below, the robust sound of a public bus stopping down at the corner. A harsh wind kisses your cheeks, likely staining Eddie’s pink. 

He feels awkward. He’s never felt awkward around you before. Not even when you almost strangled him that one morning and he smashed his head against the coffee table. Maybe it’s because of everything going on in his head right now. 

An odd tension sizzles between you. He can feel its strength, more fierce than the wind. But it’s elusive, an enigma he can’t quite grasp. He wants not to think about it and tries not to since he can’t do anything about it anyway. 

“How are you adjusting?” 

“Are you okay?” 

You both break the silence at the same time. A smile breaks across your face and Eddie blows a harsh breath out through his nose. 

“Sorry, you go first,” Eddie offers. 

“I just-are you alright?” You rush out after a brief pause, seemingly self-conscious of the question, though Eddie could never imagine why. “I just thought you maybe seemed a bit off in there…And, like, usually when people separate from the pack, it might mean something’s up,” You explain slowly, that almost inquisitive tone appearing in your voice again. 

Eddie side eyes you, your perceptiveness surprising.

You must take the glance to mean that he’s annoyed because you say, wanting to lighten the mood, “...Or they just want to be left the hell alone.”

Eddie snorts, turning his body to face yours now, his right hip pressed into the cold concrete wall with his elbow resting atop it. You mirror his stance, adjusting the fluffy blanket around you as you go. 

“But I find it usually means the first thing….And-and a lot of the time I don’t think that people really want to be left alone, even if they say they do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie teases lightly, wanting to shift the focus away from himself. He can’t tell you what’s wrong.

“Mhm,” You nod, playing along with his teasing by holding your head high as if you have all the wisdom in the world to offer. But then your expression changes. Just slightly, but Eddie sees it. What you say next isn’t teasing, what you say next is from your soul. 

“I think what they really want—more than anything—is to not have to be alone ever again,” You say, and it’s like a shadow passes over your face. He notes the change in your eyes; like you’re living a past feeling. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees after a beat, tone the furthest from teasing it’s ever been. Both because he knows the feeling, but also because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in it. Because he can tell you’ve been really lonely before. And he hates that his evasion of your question made you recall that loneliness. 

That look in your eyes disappears, and you seem to shake out of it easily as you look him in the face and ask, “What are you thinking?” 

It’s a pretty innocuous question. But right now, at this moment, it holds more weight. 

“I’m thinking that…you’re right. I guess I’ve just been in my head.” 

He wasn’t planning on revealing that. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. It’s like you pulled it out of him. It’s like he can’t resist. 

“Yeah? About what?” You ask, eyes searching his. 

He can’t tell you. He wishes he could, but he can’t. It would be such a jerk move to tell you before your date. And it’s not like he could have told you earlier either. Not after the promise he’d made. He already feels like he’s said too much. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get it,” You say after he doesn’t reply. 

But you don’t sound hurt. Instead, you sound sincere in your acceptance of the fact that he doesn’t want to say anything. It makes him want to tell you even more. Your sincere kindness, your thoughtfulness, it makes him ache. How can he not be honest with you? Especially when you’ve been so honest with him. 

In order to honour his previous promise, Eddie layers the truth in a sheer veil of lies, concealing parts of the truth, while revealing others. 

“There’s-there’s this girl,” Eddie begins, working out how he’s going to weave lies in with the truth. “But one of the guys from my band–Jeff–asked her out recently…And I-” 

“You like her too?” You guess. You’d known from the secret smile that crept onto his face; fond but sad. 

Eddie nods slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to say the words aloud himself. Like saying them would make it more real, would confirm what he already knows. 

“But Jeff asked her out first. So I don’t have a right to…to feel the way I do about it,” Eddie explains, navigating his way around the truth. He’s lying to you almost as much as he’s lying to himself. “And it would be wrong to tell her now. I’d be betraying Jeff’s trust.” It’s not Jeff’s trust he’d be betraying. 

You sigh, stumped. “I’m sorry, that’s hard…tell me about her?” You ask, though your voice sounds strained. 

God, you’re so nice. It’s killing him. He feels so guilty. How can he lie to you about you? He can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like you are. Like every word out of his mouth is the most important thing that has ever been said. 

“Um…Well. She’s-she’s open-minded and accepting, a little weird,” Eddie describes with a chuckle, remembering the morning you greeted him with your bathrobe tie. 

When your eyes connect, he can’t help but soften, impassioned as he looks into them. Wanting so badly to let you know he’s talking about you, he toes the line. 

“She’s genuine. Honest. What you see is what you get with her,” Eddie says. The city noise fades away and your breaths become the wind, your eyes the city lights. 

“She cares about her friends. It feels like she always knows the right thing to say, even if she feels like she doesn’t…And she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.” 

Something changes in your expression. Your eyes burn, searching his intently, looking back and forth between the left and the right. His eyes can’t lie, he can’t force them to. They reveal everything. They can’t conceal or contain his feelings. 

Eddie yearns to hold your face gently in his hands, to feel your lips against his, to feel your smile as he kisses you. 

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as if sudden emotion overwhelms you, your eyes aflame. You wait in anticipation for his next words as wind whistles around you, ruffling your blanket.  

“Anyway,” Eddie coughs, dispelling the tension, and glances down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, you should probably start getting ready for your date.” 

Recognition flashes in your eyes, like you’d forgotten entirely about your upcoming commitment. 

The spell is broken. He hadn’t even realized there’d been a spell until it was broken. 

You take a step back and it’s then Eddie realizes you were so close your toes were nearly touching. Shit. Why had he done that? That was almost worse than telling you everything he’d said was actually about you. 

“Yeah. Right,” You agree, walking back towards the window.

Eddie turns and leans against the balcony wall, looks back over the city. The wind is the wind, and the lights are just lights. 

“Oh, and Eddie?” You call. Eddie swivels his head to look back at you, one foot inside the apartment and one out on the balcony with him, straddling the window sill. “I hope it works out with her.” 

Eddie gives you a good-natured smile. “Yeah. Me too,” He replies as you duck under the window and return to the apartment. You close it shut softly, leaving him with the wind and the lights. 

Eventually, Eddie goes back inside too, locking every intense emotion that had built up inside of him out in the cold. 

As he wanders back into the apartment, he finds your bedroom door is now closed and Nancy’s spot on the couch is vacant. Robin is rushing out of her room in her work uniform while she roots through her bag, mumbling about her keys. And Steve, who’s snacking on some grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter, has Robin’s keys casually swinging from his index finger. Though Robin doesn’t notice until Steve ahem’s, and she snatches them from his hand before reaching the door. 

“Oh!” She says as her hand twists the handle, and spins around on her heel to face Eddie and Steve. “If either one of you is still here before Y/N leaves, tell her to have a good night with Paul. She deserves it.” 

And the door slams shut behind her as Eddie takes his seat on the couch. 

He has every intention of picking his book back up where he left off. Though it remains open in his hands as he stares at your door. He can’t stop staring at your door. Which should be infinitely less captivating than the words between the pages in his hands. And yet it is not. It is far more captivating than any book he has ever or will ever read. The thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree and setting it on fire.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Steve asks, noticing Eddie’s prolonged staring at your door. 

Pulling his eyes very slowly away from your door, Eddie replies, “Yeah, I…Yeah.” 

When his gaze finds Steve’s, he’s looking at Eddie like he’s trying to do long division in his head. 

“...Okay,” Steve drawls, retrieving his jacket from the counter in the kitchen. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later. But for now, I gotta pick up Joselyn. Later, man!” He calls as he exits the apartment, leaving just Eddie and your door, alone. 

He’s not necessarily looking forward to whatever conversation Steve wants to have with him later, but he’s hoping this Joselyn woman will keep Steve busy long enough for Eddie to avoid the conversation entirely–at least for the night. 

It’s been 23 minutes and your bedroom door still has not opened. Eddie knows the exact amount of time it remains closed because although he had tried to focus on the words in his book after Steve left, he simply could not stop looking at your door. And wondering when it would open. Hoping it would open. Estimating when it would open by calculating how long it might take you to get ready. For a solid three seconds, Eddie debates knocking on it, before deciding that’s crazy because-

The door opens. 

“How do I-” 

Eddie stares. Suddenly your door becomes the least captivating thing in the room–in the entire universe–and he can’t believe he ever thought it was captivating to begin with. 

Your black dress—which reaches your ankles—is simple, though it hugs your body wonderfully. The straps are thin and the neck is square-shaped. 

Eddie could equate your beauty to a thousand other beautiful things. He could equate it to paintings and sunsets and flowers. He could equate it to the most beautiful poetry and the most profound stories. But the truth is that none of his comparisons would ever be enough. None of them could express how he feels when he looks at you; like his heart stops and speeds up in his chest at the same time. Like he’s never seen anything beautiful in his life until this moment or even knew what the word beauty meant until he saw you. 

“Oh-Everyone left already?” You question when you realize Eddie is alone. You and Eddie are alone. 

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Oh…alright.”

Eddie swallows hard, trying his very best not to watch you like he’d watched your door. But that task proves impossible. And now it’s quiet. And it’s been quiet for far too long as you stand there fidgeting with your shawl looking like that with no one to tell you that you look like that. No one except Eddie. 

“Um,” Eddie begins. Great start. He can’t say what he wants to, so instead he explains his presence: “I didn’t wanna leave without letting you know, since everyone else left...But, uh, what-what were you gonna say…before?” God, he was the worst! If he can’t say the word to himself, how is he supposed to repeat it out loud to you? 

“Oh,” You say, looking down at yourself bashfully. “I was just gonna ask how I looked,” You explain, waving your hand in dismissal.

Eddie wants to not be the worst. Eddie wants you to think that he’s not the worst. Eddie wants you to know that you look like that. 

“You look great,” He says, slightly breathless. ‘Great’ is a safe word, it’s a friendly word. It’s not the word he wanted to use. 

You smile softly, averting your eyes from him and to the floor as you say a meek, but sincere, “Thank you.” 

Eddie really shouldn’t say anymore. But he loves the way it feels when you get all shy from his compliments. He loves the way you thank him. Like you know his compliment is true, but to hear him say it means something different, something special.

So he can’t keep it in. But he wills himself to reign in his emotions; to freeze the butterflies in his belly before they take flight. 

“You-” look really pretty. “Your dress is really pretty.” 

“Thank you, Eddie,” You say, swaying nervously on the spot. 

Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a net big enough in the world to contain the swarm of butterflies fluttering in his belly right now. It’s downright embarrassing. 

You seek out his eyes. And Eddie knows. And you part your lips, about to speak. 

“I-”

Knock, knock, knock. 

All too soon, your gaze shifts to the front door. But Eddie’s eyes remain on you. 

“Oh, that’s Paul,” You inform, pulling your shawl more tightly around your body before you begin walking towards the door. You make it about three paces before you realize, “Shoot, I forgot my purse in my room, would you mind getting the door?” 

“Sure,” Eddie says, minding a whole awful lot. But he stands from the couch anyway and makes his way to the door as you head back into your bedroom. 

The door swings open, revealing a sharply dressed Paul leaning against the doorframe. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. It’s too pristine, like he’s not moved in it, not sat down. 

When Paul lifts his head from where it’s bent on his neck, his salacious smirk disappears the moment he sees Eddie. He’s far less handsome with that ugly frown on his face. He looks like a petulant child. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Eddie bites his tongue. Then forces a fake smile as he greets politely, “Good to see you too, Paul.” 

He expected nothing less from the guy, but that didn’t make it any easier to hold back. Sure, he wasn’t serving him in the restaurant–so there weren’t any clearly defined rules here–but you were about to go out on a date with the guy. So he held back. 

“Y/N will be right out, she’s-” 

The click of your heels against the wood floors sound behind him. Paul’s smirk spreads across his face like molasses as he eyes you. Though Eddie’s sure they don’t roam further than your chest. 

A surge of unrightful possessiveness swells within him at Paul’s obvious ogling. 

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily and Eddie steps aside, fading into the background. 

“Hey, babe,” Paul says as you reach him and Eddie cringes at the territorial nickname. It takes everything in him not to shudder like he’s just seen a child pick their nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway. 

You hug and Eddie watches as one of Paul's long arms stretches around your waist, though his hand hovers dangerously low before you pull away and Paul remarks, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” You confirm, with a sweet smile. With that, Paul guides you out of the apartment with a hand on your middle back and just before you exit the apartment, you request: “Lock up on your way out?” 

It shouldn’t feel this good to have your attention on him again. Shouldn’t make his heart skip in his chest. 

Eddie just nods, sure that if he tried to speak, he would emit some embarrassing sound instead of a casual sure thing.

You smile at him widely, “Bye, Eddie.” Has his name always sounded that lovely? 

“Bye, Y/N.” Has your name ever felt that lovely rolling off his tongue? 

The door slams shut behind you. 

“Shit.” 

Eddie’s belly bubbles with a feeling. Jealousy burns in his gut. He has no right to feel this way. The moment he names it, he wants to un-name it. The moment he names it, he wants to ban the word from his mind, shove it inside one of those dark spots up there, and hope it never sees the light of day again. 

He made a promise to Robin. He doesn’t get to feel this way. 

So he tries his best not to call it what it is and tells himself that it has to be a simple combination of his hatred for Paul and his knowledge that you are a ridiculously wonderful person who deserves so much better than Paul Becker. But this is all he can allow himself to acknowledge. 

What he will not acknowledge is the third part to this equation that adds up to this feeling. What he will not acknowledge is the way he feels when you look at him, when you say his name, when you stand in front of him in a black dress and he can’t tell you how pretty you look. 

So he focuses on the one thing that is the most natural to him: the fact that Eddie hates Paul. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Next Chapter [coming soon]

A/N: And that is chapter one, folks! I've been working on this for months now, so I really, really hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a nice comment or sending me an ask telling me what you thought!

[universe-of-peoples]

There’s a lot of different opinions about what went wrong with Wish (2023), and i think a lot of them are missing the point.

So here’s my take on what was ACTUALLY wrong with Wish (2023).

Let’s start with what the movie was. It was a cute little movie, just 1 hour 35 minutes long (for reference, about as long as Encanto and a little shorter than Frozen). It had a cute story and a powerful message about working to make your dreams a reality, with a side message of the will of the people is more powerful than one corrupt ruler. It had good music; not as popular as other movies’ music, but I added the songs to my Disney playlist and I genuinely enjoy them. The whole movie was just a fun time.

Now let’s talk about what the movie was expected to be.

Fans expected this movie to be the next big Disney Princess movie, the big important Disney 100 movie, because that’s what it was marketed as. More important of those two was the latter - this was THE Disney 100 movie, the “when you wish upon a star” movie. Yeah, THAT movie. Disney fans were understandably excited. After hits like Frozen, Tangled, Encanto, Moana, and others, Disney had proven it was capable of producing movies that were big emotional hard-hitters that could also be funny and entertaining.

Then let’s shift over to Disney. The eyes of the world turned to them as they advertised their biggest anniversary yet. They had a lot of ideas for this movie (as everyone keeps talking about), but they also had a lot of pressure on them. They probably had story ideas that would have cemented this movie in the ranks of Frozen, Encanto, Tangled, Moana. But you know what it feels like to me?

It feels like Disney got scared.

This movie was supposed to be THE movie that represented their brand. They would have to find a message, an emotional journey that fit their brand but didn’t deviate from the brand’s central theme. Other movies got to tell their own unique stories with diverse emotional journeys because while they were A Disney movie, they weren’t THE Disney movie. Not like this one was supposed to be.

So they watered down any emotional journey the characters went on, relied more heavily on the overly-relatable main character archetype (with her job interview jitters, big group of friends, quirky personality, etc), and threw in the nostalgia bait (that’s a given. It’s the 100th anniversary movie.) Compared to the other Disney movies that could be big emotional hard-hitters, but could also be funny and entertaining, I’d say this movie landed at definitely funny and entertaining, with a smaller emotional journey that definitely wasn’t hard-hitting. The story was just a bit smaller than some other Disney movies.

The thing is, none of these things are inherently bad. It’s ok to tell a smaller story. Other studios do it all the time! Heck, Disney has done lots of them in the past! It’s ok to want your main character to be relatable, it’s ok to put in some references to past works in your movie, it’s ok to have songs that are good but not good enough to break the charts.

So what’s the problem? The problem, as I see it, was the disparity between what was expected and what was delivered. A good part of that expectation came from Disney’s advertisement of the movie, and a smaller part came from fans’ expectations of any Disney Princess movie given the company’s track record. It was a perfect storm of This Movie Isn’t Going To Be Well Received.

IMHO, the movie isn’t bad. It just isn’t what it was expected and advertised to be. So please stop hating on the movie and direct your anger instead to The Mouse, the one who really deserves it.

[utilitycaster]

Unpopular opinion: the tower conversation between Caleb and Essek was a define-the-relationship conversation on a 20+ intelligence level and with the context that defining a relationship does not inherently mean "we have decided whether or not we are dating from this point onward with the only options being a static yes or no," and if more of the fandom read it that way, there would be significantly less equivocating over their relationship and how often Essek is mentioned in regards to existing and potential post-canon content

This is very funny to me bc if you were not off anon I'd be like "man what does Megs say about it, she'd know more!" Anyway, after this one I'll be taking a break bc I do need to do a bit of D&D prep and this is going to be a slightly long one. To that point, it's below the cut.

Anyway, thank you, because I very much enjoy Shadowgast but I don't know if I've made as much of a study of it as others have, or as I have for other ships, but this led me to rewatch/reread the transcript for this speech (2x133, btw, starting around 3:26:00 for those wondering) and: yes.

I think this is definitely the 20+ INT level version; it is entirely about theory, and the arcane, and everything is subtext. But it's not unprecedented. If I were to do the mathematical thing, and I will, and reduce it to a problem I already know, this is akin to Fjord and Jester's conversation in episode 2x72. Compare:

LAURA: Would you do anything to get them back?

TRAVIS: No. No, but, I feel like I knew what I was doing, and I realized I have no idea.

to

MATT: "You spoke once of intent, lot of fortunes have changed since. What is your goal? Ultimately?"

LIAM: I think my priorities have mostly shifted since we last spoke about things like this. I think what's going on right now is more important than my petty, earthly grievances. Still very much fascinated with and attracted to ability and skill. And it's not fashionable to say, but to power. Who doesn't feel the tug of such a thing? But, uh-- yeah, I said it knowing what your reaction was going to be. I see you outside. (laughs) But it doesn't matter. There are bigger things than you and I.

MATT: "I think that's the key. The pursuit of magic, in the ways that we know it, in the ways that we've been disparately, but in some ways similarly raised and studied. At a certain point, it becomes about the self. It becomes about what I can do. And it's impressive that you've deviated at your skill level. I just hope it holds."

LIAM: That's the key, isn't it? Because if you were to put the very thing that I have wondered about for so many years in front of me, I'm really not sure what my reaction would be.

It is, as you say, a definition of the relationship. It's not "we are now dating;" it's them figuring out if they want similar things; if they will be not just compatible but good for each other. It's foundation laying and setting boundaries for something that won't come to fruition for some time yet, but it's undeniably something more serious than mere friendship.

I think the tower conversation is also uniquely important because it's Caleb's first romantic overture after meeting with Trent. He volunteers the information about his past not just willingly, but specifically in order to connect with Essek rather than to protect him or push him away. They are even able to laugh about it together, and that's really it. This is the point where romance becomes an option.

There's more - I think that Essek admiring Caleb's ability to set aside himself despite his rapid progression as a wizard is absolutely a flirtation, as is Caleb saying he's attracted to "ability and skill" - but really in the end it's them saying "this is my condition, and you have met it." I think the relationships that lack some kind of condition and stakes like this - and to be clear, it's okay if, as with several relationships I don't cover here, those stakes and boundaries are set not through a clear conversation that serves as a turning point but rather more implicitly/through actions - end up feeling fundamentally empty and lacking in possibility because there isn't that tension and that recognition of each other.

[girljeremystrong]

cat!!!! hi!!!! i want to get my non-reader friend into reading. he probs won't read anything over 150-200 pages so i'm trying to find an entertaining short book. all the short books i love are essays or philosophy or things i think he could like in time but would probably find dry at the start (especially cause he hasn't read anything recreationally for years). so im at a loss and wanted to know if u have any recs for short books that are page-turners/easy to read <3 hope ur having a good day beloved xo

hello my love <3

first of all sorry for replying late but i was sleeping and then i had to go to the BANK but anyway i have compiled a little list of books i loved that are under 200 pages. there are lots of classics that are shorter and i've included them even though i think some of those would be stuff that you or him might have already read!

contemporary fiction

open water by caleb azumah nelson: THIS IS SUCH A GREAT ONE that i can't imagine anyone not enjoying. truly. it's a love story between two black young british people but it's far from a tiktok romance novel. it explores themes of race and masculinity and vulnerability and it's soft but also very real and it's wonderful. honestly if i had to only recommend one it would be this!

small things like these by claire keegan: very good and quietly hopeful story of a man in a little irish town at christmas. everybody was talking about this book last year and with good reason, it's great.

whereabouts by jhumpa lahiri: the story of a woman in the town she lives in and how it can change in a year. this is an introspective one but jhumpa lahiri is a genius so it reads very easily and it's so wonderfully written.

interpreter of maladies by jhumpa lahiri: short stories, mainly dealing with indian characters in the US. they feel absolutely universal while teaching something about culture and belonging. won the pulitzer in 1999.

how not to drown in a glass of water by angie cruz: a woman narrates the story of her life to her counselor who's trying to find her a job. it's funny and hopeful and memorable. the author is so great (she wrote another one called dominicana that is a masterpiece although is longer!)

kim jiyoung, born 1982 by cho nam-joo: the story of a new mum living in korea that explores the estrangement of being a woman and having to give up so much. it's definitely more serious but it's written very well and it doesn't feel heavy at all.

swimming in the dark by tomasz jedrowski: this one is incredible. it's the story of a polish university student who falls in love with another man in the 1980s in an obviously very repressive society. so he's in love but he wants protest and he can't ignore the struggles and the disparity around him. it's very political but also lyrical and tender.

someone who will love you in all your damaged glory by raphael bob-waksberg: okay this breaks 200 pages at 256 pages long. but it's so good. everybody would love this. it's by the creator of bojack horseman if that can be an incentive somehow. it's a collection of stories that are so unconventional and bizarre in the most incredible way. they are funny stories and sweet and absurd and sad. i really loved reading this book.

infinite country by patricia engel: the story of a colombian family dealing with deportation. it's from the pov of elena who is the eldest daughter. it's a beautiful book that deals with very real struggles and it does it beautifully.

classics

recitatif by toni morrison: very short story (about 20 pages) but so clever and so well written of course. it's the story of two women who have known each other since they were children. they lose touch and then they reconnect when they're older. one of them is white and one of them is black, but the author never tells you which is which. so it's a great story about race.

the cossacks by leo tolstoy: the story of a man who loses his fortune and retires to a cossack village. it's very russian... but it's very well written and definitely explores some of the themes that tolstoy will then explore in war and peace like the purpose of life and war and his love of nature.

white nights by fyodor dostoevsky: again very russian. but less than 100 pages long! it's the story of a young man living in st petersburg who one day meets a girl and they become fast friends. they both feel like outcasts, so together they feel like they can belong. it is actually great.

giovanni's room by james baldwin: lots of baldwin's books (both his fiction and non-fiction) are short ones actually. this one is the story of a man in paris who, while waiting for his girlfriend to get there, falls in love with a man. it's an incredible story dense with love and passion and shame and it is wonderful.

the old man and the sea by hemingway: old man tries to catch big fish after not being able to catch any fish for a long time. but also so much more than that and nobody made me read this in school so i only read it at 25 and it blew me away. everybody told me it would be so sad but i think it's actually hopeful and a little bit it is a story about community? and it tells you that there's people waiting for you to come back.

of mice and men by steinbeck: again i read it in my mid twenties and loved it. it's a gut punch. it's about two men clinging together as laborers in california. it deals with what it means to feel powerless in a tyrant world.

franny and zooey by salinger: one of the best books ever i think. franny and zooey are brother and sister and they are two young people experiencing existential doubts. it's a book about family and about growing into adults and about the alienation that comes with that. salinger knows how to write young people in a crisis so well and how to make it engaging and entertaining.

having compiled this list i now see that my tastes definitely are oriented in a certain way but i hope at least one of these can work for your friend. i tried to include all the shorter books that i have read and loved and i think that generally anyone could enjoy them, but you never know!

hope you're having a great day too!!! mwah!!

[machihunnicutt]

Ahh, I don't think I've ever prompted you for anything, which is a crime!! A long long time ago you wrote punnihawk, and idk if it's still your bag, so if it's not or if you're not taking prompts anymore, feel free to ignore this :) But if it is and you are, I'd love to see 'cuddles to trap the other' with them.

HELLO! yes! feels like a million years ago, my first mash fic :')

19. cuddles to trap the other

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sensational dancer?” Hawkeye said. 

Peg was leaning on him a little, the side of her face pressed just below the collar of his crew neck. She was already dressed for going out, apart from her feet, which were without their customary heels. He’d adjusted his posture to account for the height disparity: shoulders hunched, knees slightly bent, palms at her shoulder and waist. 

Dancing with Beej required different adjustments. Hawk had to be more cautious with his feet. BJ was prone to getting distracted and treading on them. It was easier to maintain eye contact, though, since they were nearly the same height. And when Beej was feeling confident, sometimes he led. 

“I think you told me, the other day. Though maybe you said terrific, not sensational,” Peg said.

He’d begged her for a dance. Peg and Beej were going to one of the hospital’s frequent fundraising galas. It was an excuse to dress up, get a little tipsy, and talk to people—all things Hawkeye enjoyed, when he was in the right mood. 

Unfortunately he’d just gotten off a double shift, after an extraordinarily hectic week, and was more or less dead on his feet. He was exhausted in that slap happy, clingy, sore to be missing out way. Peg took pity on him.

Hawkeye could smell her perfume: light, floral, her special occasion scent, in the little blue bottle on her dresser. He and Beej had picked it out together. 

Visits to the perfume counter always gave Beej headaches. He’d persevere—eyes closed, bridge of his nose pinched, hint of a smile on his lips—while Hawk held up testers. 

“You know, we’re all going to smell like this,” Hawkeye had said, fingers grazing the inside of BJ’s wrist. 

Their shoulders brushed. It was raining outside. Inside, it smelled like damp hair, like Peg’s lavender shampoo, in the big bottle, to share. 

BJ opened his eyes. “Then we ought to pick something that complements your aftershave,” he said.

“You move like a dream,” Hawkeye said, shifting his weight, leaning into her as much as she was leaning into him.

Peg was stronger than she looked. She’d held him upright a time or two. 

She laughed. Hawkeye loved her laugh. When she really got going, she got the hiccups. The first time it had happened, Hawk had been bowled over with affection. They’d been out, all three of them, finishing their drinks outside a café. He and Beej had a spectacular comedy routine going. He couldn’t remember the jokes now. He’d been a little drunk, maybe, and in good company, which made everything funny.

When she laughed, some of her white wine came out her nose. Hawk passed her his handkerchief. Beej rubbed her back, at the space between her shoulder blades. He met Hawkeye’s eyes, across the cluttered table. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his long legs. 

“Don’t get big heads,” Peg said, after drinking deeply from her water glass, and then Hawk’s (leaving lipstick on the rim). 

The record they had on lapsed into staticky silence and Peg drew back.

“A good dream, I hope,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress.

BJ came into the room, holding up two ties. “I can’t decide,” he said. He frowned at Hawk. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“The purple one,” Hawkeye said, as Peg ushered him toward the mattress. 

“Erin’s sleeping over at Angie’s. I gave her the number at the club just in case, so no need to listen for the phone. Just get some sleep,” Peg said.

She pulled back the covers and kissed his forehead. 

“Don’t step on her feet, Beej,” Hawkeye said.

BJ was flipping up his collar and tying his purple tie. He looked nice in his well tailored suit, with the cufflinks Hawk had bought him for his birthday. 

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll try my absolute hardest,” he said. 

Peg brushed some lint off his lapel.

“I know you will. We should call the cab. I hate showing up late to these things,” she said.

Hawkeye watched the two of them, lingering by the door. They’d wanted to skip the gala and stay in, with him, but he’d talked them into going. It seemed an awful shame to keep the Hunnicutts from a party.

“We’ll duck out early, Hawk,” BJ said.

Hawkeye opened his arms wide. 

“Kiss me goodbye, at least,” he said.

They didn’t need to be asked twice. They lay down on either side of him and Hawk was briefly distracted by the mingling of their warmth and scents and limbs. BJ kissed him and then Peg kissed him (gentler, to avoid smudging her lipstick).

“On second thought, I can get dressed and come with you,” Hawkeye said, eyes half-lidded. “I’m not as tired as I seem. I promise.”

BJ pressed a kiss to his hair. “Nice try,” he said.

Hawkeye rolled onto his side and tucked his face to Beej’s chest, breathing deeply. He was right. Beej smelled like Peg’s perfume.

 Her hands were at Hawk’s waist. She tucked her chin over his shoulder. 

“Well, I’ve trapped you here now,” Hawkeye said.

“Or we’ve trapped you, darling,” Peg said, in that dreamy, soothing tone she used when she read Erin bedtime stories. 

“We’ll be home before you know it,” BJ said.

[bitch-butter]

⭐️⭐️!!

some pretty on the inside lore 😘💕🍒

David ached, but it wasn’t the sort of ache he was used to. It was an appropriate ache, the kind that came after a long, long night out, and the gentleness of the realization that he probably didn’t have sex the night before was like a butterfly landing on the tip of his nose.

He was in New Orleans. That much he was fairly certain of, but as he felt through his pockets he didn’t feel any money, and he couldn’t remember when and how he had lost his client in the heat of the night, and he certainly couldn’t remember who the man in the bed was.

so the big Thing with including this section in the first place is that that's Gene lol who is - similarly - in the death throes of his Party Monster era before he has to legitimately put his nose to the grindstone instead of a deep well of drugs. it came as a wayward Funny Idea between sarah and i that they would have had this crazy, raucous night out where it's unclear exactly if anything Happened between them and neither of them even remember meeting each other.

Rubbing over the greasy lids of his eyes, David sighed. What was the point trying to form any connective tissue between the disparate elements of his life anymore? There would be things he couldn’t remember, it was just a fact. It was either remember everything, or remember nothing.

I remember nothing, he quoted aimlessly in his head before groaning. He had to go home. He had to read David Copperfield again.

a huge part of Web in this story is just how much he actually remembers the events of his life while simultaneously trying to convince himself he really doesn't remember anything. part of that is a symptom of his deep unhappiness and part of that is just the privilege of being able to make mistakes when you're young and assume that they won't follow you or have an impact on the way you live your life. we've all had moments like that, which is what my primary intention is in illustrating this time in Web's life, where he's doing this enormous, loaded thing and just assuming that it will be something that stays where he leaves it and not weep out into every other area of his life and his future. it's hard in a hundred ways to be young, not the least of which is that you don't always know when you've gone too far in one direction.

Struggling to his feet as silently as he could he allowed himself a moment to be purely happy at the fact that he still had his phone at all, even if the absence of payment made his pockets seem large, vacuous with disappointment. He looked at the man in the bed for a moment, almost wishing he could remember him, if for nothing else but to know why they hadn’t had sex. It had been a long time since he’d found himself in a situation that wasn’t transactional, either by design or by chance, and this stranger in the bed who had let him sleep on his floor was a mystery to him.

He’d thank him if he understood it more.

it's nebulous Here but the idea is that at most they did make out that night. and sometime in the not too distant future Web realizes this, shares that information with Gene under the Auspices of thanking him for looking out for him before they even really knew each other, and this interaction comes to be Extraordinarily misunderstood by their entire friend group lol but that's a fic for another time.

i guess suffice it to say Web's past is always present lol

[thebirdsareafterme]

Lestappen, carcar(carlos/oscar), charles/oscar, dando

I have many thoughts and I hope I don’t get persecuted for this.

Lestappen: makes sense, does not compel me

Personally, I can see why people flock to Lestappen, as it is considerably the most popular ship at the moment. It has all of the components of being a good ship, with the childhood rivals to lovers, red and blue dynamics, etc. but it lacks one thing, which is a real connection to build the ship off of. Now, I know that fans of this ship are super passionate about how much Max and Charles love each other and are super gay for each other. When you look at their relationship at face value, there isn’t much there that isn’t just the coworker experience. They interact in the paddock, but outside of that, they rarely spend time together and if they do, it is almost always court-mandated (scheduled events by their management). They have a lot of respect for each other as competitors and have a base level friendship from proximity, but I just can’t seem to feel that sense of compulsion from their relationship that is heavily based on how they interact at their jobs. There are more compelling ships for both of them (I would argue Maxiel and Piarles) that, when compared, show the disparity between how they interact with each other versus how they interact with their friends.

Another reason that I can’t seem to see the Lestappen vision are the fans themselves, who like to insert their RPF narrative into every context for absolutely no reason. I think of that video that RBR released before the Hungarian GP this year where Max was listing his top three friends in the paddock. The comments were just Lestappies screaming “Where’s Charles??” or “Max only put Checo because he’s sitting there with him!! He would have said Charles if Checo wasn’t there!!” and most bizarrely, “ Max didn’t say Charles because they’re not friends…they’re lovers 😌”….genuinely, why are you pushing this narrative so hard. This is the REAL person stating the facts about HIS OWN relationships with people that he ACTUALLY knows, and you have a bunch of teenage girls telling him that he’s lying. Anyways, there’s a lot about parasocialism and all that, but that’s my hot take on Lestappen. Please don’t shoot me, I just have many thoughts.

CarCar: does not make sense, compels me

I actually was super invested in CarCar for a while, as Carlos is one of my main guys, so I was there at its conception. However, I completely thought this was a crack ship for a while and was unaware that people were serious about it until a few months ago when I saw how much stuff they have on AO3. Incredible! Considering how new it is, it has a lot of content and fans and I love how it’s based on a rivalry that just doesn’t exist and maybe 6 race interactions. We’ve definitely had more CarCar interactions this year, so I’m excited to see how they develop as more lore drops. They have lots of potential to become a great ship, perhaps becoming Webbonso reincarnated? Also, their ship name still cracks me up…cuz u know…they’re both race car drivers…yeah CarCar is chill and funny af. It doesn’t make sense and that’s why it works.

Charles/Oscar: does not make sense, does not compel me

This one, on the other hand, confuses me a bit. I always see them more as a father-son duo (see pre-Monaco tweets) so I feel kinda conflicted shipping them??? I think they have similar senses of humour, which is good ship potential, but I will admit I haven’t really paid attention to their interactions this year, so if anyone has a primer I would love to learn about them.

Dando: makes sense, compels me

I’m not usually a multishipper or a Lando fan (in the way where I like him in relation to other drivers but not as an individual), but something about them just makes sense to me. They have a lot of lore and a ton of fun interactions in and out of the paddock, and they also happen to genuinely like each other. It’s the whole “you’re the only good thing to come out of this bad thing” situation that they had going on all throughout the Horrors Part 1 (2021-2022) that makes them so compelling to me. They’ve got a lot going on in there, like the whole photography thing, the spontaneous Australia visit over winter break, and the overall chemistry they have. At first, I wasn’t the biggest fan of them because I was a Carlando child of divorce first and foremost, and also because they didn’t seem to like each other in the beginning as well, but they’ve definitely grown on me over the years.

Anyways, thank you for the ask! Had a lot of fun articulating my thoughts about these little guys.

[transhuman-priestess]

You asked for weird asks!

Do you have any story ideas that you feel you can't do justice, or are for a medium you don't work in?

oh, so many!

I read oodles of nonfiction, especially about US cold war policy and engineering disasters. In particular i think that the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster cleanup could make a fantastic Tom Hanks Miniseries, as well as the 1980 Damascus, Arkansas Titan II explosion. I'm obviously not much of a screenwriter though.

As for more original stories, there's a lot of things I'd like to write that I just don't because they're so outside of my wheelhouse. The one I can remember right now was some teenager 3D printing a fake cobalt-60 rod and lacing it with a bit of americium from a smoke detector to get out of like, taking some big exam or something. Something like this.

The problem I never could figure out how to make it be believably funny. Because I know too much about nuclear physics to make it believably serious. There's no way a high school kid could believably fake a high-level gamma source. So it would have to be some kind of stupid comedy bit, but again, I know too much about nuclear physics to make it believable. And I'm absolute shit at writing comedy. Just awful at it.

I've also had to rewrite stories because I wanted to present them in a way that just did not work in text. The one i just posted today [shameless plug] for instance, it has two narratives taking place at disparate locations, and I really wanted to intercut them very heavily, like overlaying a speech of one character's on the actions of another in a movie or a film. And I kinda tried to do the sort of line break you see with the triple asterisk (* * *) but it felt like too much of a pause between the cuts. If you ever ripped a CD with iTunes in the early 00s, it had a setting where it'd add like, a second of silence to the end of each track and so when you burned your friend a CD it would be just slightly off. It read kinda like that.

In the end I ended up identifying a couple of points in each plotline where it made sense to split it, and alternated between them, ABAB style. It worked really well.

Lately I've actually been trying to lean into "I don't know how I'm gonna make this work." And honestly it's been really fun and produced some great results.

Anyway, at this point I feel like the expectation would be that I apologize for going on so much about this one, except that I know you well enough that I'm sure you're delighted at the granularity of detail provided.

So instead, I'll say thank you, for sending such a good ask! Love ya bestie <3

[girlvinland]

Okay, sorry for more. But you know, it is funny to me how older gens say that millennials (and zoomers too bc they don’t seem to know the difference and tbh neither do we half the time apparently*) are perpetually stunted adult children or whatever when it feels like we’re the first generations to be more aware of how generational trauma has affected our entire families and are intentionally more careful with our decisions about marriage/children/dealing with our own trauma/etc. I don’t want to paint every generation or person with a brush, but idk. Like. I grew up with Gen X parents who got married and had me young and had literally no emotional regulation/would tantrum at the smallest things (which…they’ve gotten better about), yet they would go on and on about the entitlement of my generation and everything. I feel like I have more empathy for older gens with less choices (especially for the women and minorities of those gens), but I still don’t really get how people just kind of walked through life not giving certain things any thought. Like people who would beat their children and think nothing of it or blindly adhered to beauty standards that made no sense or felt like requirements to exist. I know societal pressure sucks but. I also don’t get it, and I do think that in some ways we are more easily able to question disparities now.

On another note, I hate online warring stuff between Gen Z and Millenials (literally never experienced it irl). Apart from my own generation, I feel like Gen Z is the only other generation I feel understands me in a similar way because we both grew up as “digital natives” or whatever the term is, but also feels like we both had a balance with more regular life stuff too before being online 24/7 became completely inescapable. Idk I feel like there is more shared there and they get it if I talk about x thing vs trying to talk about x thing to the generations who didn’t grow up online lol. There are more overlapping touchpoints and interests. Not to sound like old man, but I do wonder what it’s going to be like for Gen Alpha as they get older. It sounds like kids in schools have a much harder time now with attention spans and behavior and I wonder if there will be a kind of pendulum swing when they get older that makes them want to pull back from being exposed to so much technology or if it will just keep going like it has been. It’s weird. And I know in practice kids and teens really are kind of always kids and teens, but can we deny that having tech everywhere hasn’t changed things somehow? Idk.

Anyway. Going to be an interesting day someday when all of the people who lived their lives pre-widespread Internet are no longer around and the rest of us are ancient relics of the past reminiscing about neopets or spotify wrapped or whatever lol.

*I kind of made this remark bc going back to work I realized that to a certain point I can’t tell ages well at all, and neither can my coworkers, apparently. I work with lot of people ages 23-45 and the people I thought were closer to my age tended to be mid-twenties and then three different times those same people thought I was 24-25 (which I’m not trying to humble brag about bc idc and there’s nothing wrong with getting older, but I think it’s more that I just sound and act in a way people don’t usually expect or something and less that I look younger or whatever. Maybe it’s also bc a lot of us spend a lot more time inside or wearing more sunscreen or. Idk man. I’ve heard people are showing fewer signs of “premature aging” bc of things like that. Put that in quotes bc again, aging is fine and normal). Then there is a lady in her late 40s I thought was early thirties bc she just came off as youthful or something. When someone told me she was almost 50 I was like huh wuh. So. Just saying I do get why people don’t know the difference lmao.

[katyspersonal]

Hey guys.. Thank you for the kind words. I am just not feeling like talking yet, I am mostly just spending time alone.

It is hard to explain how one thing leads to another thing and how things that are troubling me are conjoined, but I just feel like I don't have a place as a human being. I am caught in the loop of escaping people that hate whites / males / heteros / etc by proxy and soon enough the freedom and reason I've been after ends at dead end, me meeting people that instead hate blacks / women / LGBTs / etc. No matter what I do, no matter where I go it is always fucking something. It is always hatred to a demographic of people by proxy, people just can't comprehend the idea of hating the bad and harmful instead of this stupid disparity between "good" demographics and "bad". When it is not dumb American college esque "systematic/historical oppression" flex - it is a sob story about various bad events caused within confrontation to the group. EVERY demographics has people that will willfully weaponize belonging to it against others. EVERY single ONE. Every race, every gender, every culture, every sexuality will have pricks. When it is not """systematic""" privilege - it is victim's privilege.

And I am tired too. I question whether the freedom and reason I am looking for even exists. Maybe it is normal for humans to blame the ones who are not like them as a 'covenant' instead of looking up into something that can occur everywhere, and I just have no place in society. I feel like blasphemy is becoming the same entity as religion: there is always that guy that claims they know how things "really" work, that everyone who disagrees is against the "truth" itself. And I am tired. I am tired of running from one kind of control freaks and ending up with the other, after having a hunch of hope. I am tired of always, always, always being pressured into being an ideological soldier. When it is not 'you should let others walk all over you because you are white and cis' - it is 'you should stand against them with us as a woman and a bi'. And there is always control freakery, pressure and hatred for not agreeing 100%. When I am not called a disgusting bigot - I am called another woke brainwashed feminist (sometimes also with 'child murdering psychopath' for supporting abortion rights).

I am feeling ideologically homeless, because apparently 'for reason and against idiocy' is not an ideology. I choose my own sources of information and do what I can to keep drastically different people around so I am always forced to question or reaffirm what I already think, but HOW do I always end close with people with whom being honest is hated and punished? When it is not a public social abuse from cancel culture simps - it is private emotional abuse behind closed doors by friends.

And in the end? I am still the dumbest person in this equation. It is all my fault. I've failed to nurture enough self-confidence to be independent without the need of any approval, and so I am blaming who exactly? The entire human society for how it works? I feel like I am more like Djur4. He is not against the hunt altogether (he tells the hunter to go kill beasts outside), but he personally quit it and protects the beasts that CAN'T harm anyone, he has only like 3 true friends (funny enough, I also have 3 people that truly accept me as who I am without any contempt and conditions), but he has quite the mood swings and used to be fearsome (and well, I used to be aggressive kind of feminist anti something something years ago). But I am yet to become really like him, because he is confident living on his own with what works for him. (Heh. Would've been funny to switch M3nsis on Powder K3gs, considering he still resides extremely close to M3nsis base.)

In the end, what I am really looking for is the dreaded unattainable trait of "not letting someone's insults get to me", but even this is hard because if I never listen to them, how will I know when I am ACTUALLY being a dumbass? Is anyone really qualified to unmistakeably distinguish between "they insult me because they can't control me" and "they insult me because I really fucked up"? I've endured a lot of abuse from either "side" under delusion that they could not insult me without a logical reason... But what if they do not understand logic to begin with? Or what if their logic is rigid and stuck in certain dogmas, that can't adapt and evolve? And what if they don't know the "truth" but just fucking hate women, even if some of their observations and reasoning could be useful? In the end, no one can know my intentions better than me, but if I never listen - how WILL I connect with other people? Yet I did not connect just to be condemned for not being antagonistic "enough", or for constantly listening trash about women and their rights and being told that I am in "denial about FAAAAAACTS uwu" when I disagree. In the end, chaos is just another form of order, only its order is being antagonistic to the previous one.

And if I can't become whatever the secret third thing is... it is better to exclude myself from this life altogether.