#based on a real conversation I overheard once

[ibrithir-was-here]

Silly little thing I’ve had bouncing around in my head for a while 😅

[jellybeans2099]

Cam Person Drabble

Paring: Miguel O'Hara x Spiderperson!Reader

Part 2 Here

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, obsessive behaviors, masturbation, breeding kink, size difference (if you squint), s-x work is real work

Word Count: 0.5k

A/N: I used they/them pronouns for the reader so insert whichever ones you use. No real descriptions of what the reader has going on to keep this neutral. This idea has been swimming in my head for DAYS and I need to just get it out. Let me know if you want a longer version of this! (also loosely based on @oharahive's Frustration series, I just love the idea of frustrated Miguel and oblivious reader so I took my own spin on it)

He wondered how pathetic he looked staring at his computer screen with such an intensity. The object of all his late night longing was right in front of him and yet he knew they were so much farther away than he could ever get to them. How silly was it to get attached to  the person behind the screen. And yet here he is every single stream, cock in hand. It started out as an accident. An honest to god accident. He didn't want to know what you did in your spare time and how you supported yourself when you weren't at HQ but he saw your username handle while doing a routine check in on new recruits. You only met him once and had never even made a point to see him again. Only exchanging a hello out of curtesy or a brief recap after a mission.  You didn't go out your way to see him, just another person here in the spider society. He shouldn't have looked it up and found you streaming in your down time. The moment he laid eyes on your half dressed form, moaning and pleading with someone in stream controlling your toy he was transfixed. He found himself dick in hand pumping hard and fast in tempo with you. He was absolutly obsessed. He felt a desire bubble up he had never felt before. How much he would give to see his cum leaking out your pretty little hole, moaning his name as he fucks it all back into you. Watching himself go deep inside you, into places no toy could ever reach. By the time he came to he had a large load of cum covering his  t-shirt and sweats dripping on the floor underneath his desk.

Now here he was almost 6 months later and he couldn't stop himself. Every night you were streaming there he was in front of his desk waiting for you to go live. He paced himself now, not cumming until you finished the stream as a reward for being so patient. Sometimes a stream was quick, just 20 minutes before you were abruptly interrupted by "nosy neighbors" which was always something going down at HQ that needed your urgent attention. Those days are particularly hard to pull himself back together to face you as your assigned a mission for a new anomaly. Some days he made sure that HQ had a backup for you just incase you wanted to be live a little longer. Those streams sometimes went on for up to 3 hours and he savored them to the last second. At HQ he could hardly face you without getting an immediate hard on, often meeting you only when his back was turned, You hardly seemed to mind, you kept your distance as much as you could. He once overheard a conversation you had with Peter B. saying you found him intimidating and that you were keeping your distance. Oh how little you know about the beast you've awakened in him.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: “You don’t know me!” - 7x5

In 2x8, Buck told a woman, “You don’t even know me!” and according to the script for episode 5 in season 7, the title of it will be almost an exact match since it's "You don’t know me!” and it appears to be a callback to his comment.

Since it's possible some may not have watched 2x8 Buck Actually in a while, here’s a quick reminder of the conversation Buck had with Bobby.�� They were discussing TK and how Buck hooked up with her in a bar restroom but Buck told him that since he had finally let go of AC, he thought she had changed him 🙄. Then he proceeded to say he had only been single for like a day and he was back to basically being Buck 1.0. When they entered the gas station, Buck kept talking to Bobby about how he was thinking about calling TK but he didn’t want her to think he was only after one thing.  While Hen was treating the woman robber victim, she overheard Buck talking and commented, “You are only after one thing.  Jerk!”.  Buck responded, “You don’t even know me!” and she replied, “You’re a man, I know enough!”

Why is this important?

It’s important because the theme of “You don’t know me” has been applied to Buck with regards to every hookup or so-called “relationship” he’s had with different women on the show.  Let’s be real for a minute because the truth is none of them AC, AM, TK, ND, Dr. Wells nor the two women he hooked up with in season 1 knew him either.  Also, the woman who made the comment was a random victim who overheard Buck talking for less than a minute and she thought she knew Buck just because he’s a man. It was implied that all men want to do is hookup and leave like he did with TK but Buck has been and continues to search for the love of his life. The conversation he had with her connects to the one he had with Eddie in 6x15 while they were standing in the cemetery.

Buck said, “I feel like I have to try and be the same old Buck… mostly for the sake of everyone else” and Eddie responded, “You don’t have to be anything for anybody”.

IMO, their comments were being made directly to the audience and they were for the people who, after six seasons still want to keep seeing Buck do the same thing over and over again (I know it’s hard to believe but trust and believe there are people in the GA and in the 9-1-1 fandom who want to keep Buck on the hamster wheel and I think it’s because they DON’T WANT HIM TO BE WITH EDDIE).  These are the viewers who would rather he keep randomly hooking up with people (it could be anybody and it doesn’t matter if it’s irrational, nonsensical, illogical, random or whatever/whomever just as long as they can see him hookup with another guy or another random love interest) instead of him finally accepting the love that him and Eddie effortlessly share with one another.  I’ve said this many times, Buck and Eddie are in love with each other, they’re soulmates (post linked here) and they share a once in a lifetime love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.  They have a deep, emotional and intimate connection that’s not superficial and it’s not based on a hookup.  They have an EPIC love story that deserves to be told without any more distractions or the addition of one-dimensional love interests.  It’s not platonic, it’s romantic and if they do go CANON, it will make for groundbreaking television.

Back to our regularly scheduled program…

After the title for 7x5 was released a few weeks ago, I completed a post about how Connor really doesn’t know Buck the way he said he does in 6x4 (linked here) and I stand by everything I included in it.  However, this post is in addition to that one and it includes the details about how all the women Buck dated didn’t know him either.

In 1x1, the first woman Buck was shown hooking up with in the firetruck told him to his face that she didn’t want to get to know him.  He asked her for her number and she replied, “You’re cute and you’re very good at whatever it is we just did but let’s not ruin it by getting to know each other.” She didn't want to get to know him and the look on his face showed he wanted more but she didn't so he moved on to the next one.

Dr. Wells was the LAFD’s trauma therapist and SHE TRIED TO BEFRIEND Buck on Facebook before he ever entered her office.  She knew the day would come when he would need therapy and when he asked her if she sent him a friend request, she told him he should delete it but then they ended up having sex.  It was played off like a joke but that’s not what it was because she was in a position of power and as a licensed therapist, she should have been charged because it’s against the law for that to happen. IMO, since Buck didn't know any better, as his captain, Bobby should have reported her. She wasn't mentioned again until 3x9 when Buck, Bobby, Chimney and Eddie were sitting in the loft at the firehouse and all Bobby said was "She's no longer with the department". That wasn't enough and she took advantage of him. Trust and believe the situation would have ended differently if the roles had been reversed.

AC wasn’t any different because after Buck stood by her and helped her after her mom died, he was being catfished by a man and several women were after him because of that guy's lies. After a woman threw a drink in his face, he said to her, “You know me right? Come on” and she replied, “I don’t even know who I am right now. But I definitely don’t feel like I know who you are right now.” She ended up ghosting him and abandoning him while he waited for her for months.

When she returned two years later, she didn't even apologize to him.

AM didn’t know Buck either and don’t get sidetracked by the fact that she called him Evan sometimes.  It was proven she didn’t know who he is when she said, “I know it’s who you are” after he said, “You want me to quit my job”.  Well, being a firefighter is NOT who Buck is, it’s what he does but she clearly saw him as a hot firefighter just like AC did and was looking for a good time. Please remember she didn't have a problem leaving him because of it.

TK didn’t know Buck at all and for everyone who thinks just because they were having sex and living together, that doesn’t mean anything because after meeting four years earlier, TK still had no idea who Buck was before it was over and she didn’t care.  If she had known him then she wouldn’t have betrayed his trust.  Also, he did cheat on her which made the situation worse but neither of them wanted to admit they weren’t supposed to be together and they clung instead of just ending it.  When he got ready to break up with her, she didn't try to see his side of it, she just stuck to her immoral ideals and wanted him to be ok with her running with the Jonah story.  Instead of saying, “I understand and I apologize” she said, “You knew who I was when we started dating” and he replied, “I guess I thought I could learn to live with it”.  She made it all about her the same way Buck makes everything about himself. They were two self-centered people with tragic childhoods in a trainwreck relationship and it shouldn’t have ever happened. It's still interesting that Buck ended up in a relationship with her after everything she did to Bobby and the 118 four years earlier (related post linked here and here).

ND fangirled over Buck and was so enthralled by his death but when she found out he had a full life, she did judge him.  He said, “I know this is something that’s easy to judge” but even though she said that him being a sperm donor was a kind gesture or whatever, she left because she couldn't handle his full life. Granted she was a death doula but her actions weren't professional and it would have been better if she would have helped him deal with his death. Her return should have ended with Buck saying "No thanks" and sending her on her way but of course he was shoved into another lackluster one dimensional relationship. Also, them telling each other, “I like you” was very high school like🙄.

Please understand, I don't like TK but in 4x8 she said, "You just can't stand the idea of someone not liking you" and she was right. Buck works hard to make people like him and it's very reminiscent of the way he's been trying to get his parents to love him anyway. He needs therapy.

It seems like he's still doing it and the words Bobby spoke in 6x11 during his coma dream had no effect since he still cares about how people see him. He hasn't learned anything yet but hopefully he will in season 7.

Eddie Diaz is the ONLY person on the show who KNOWS and SEES Buck and the video above includes several snippets from different episodes to prove it.

Eddie knows him at his core. He knows when to call him on his BS, he recognizes when Buck makes things about himself and he knows when he's trying to fix things instead of understanding it's not always his job to fix them.

Maddie is Buck's sister but she still sees Evan (post linked here) her little brother but Eddie knows Buck and after they become a CANON couple, he’ll know Buck even more. 

While I’m not sure who’s going to say, “You don’t know me” in 7x5 or if it will be said at all, I do believe Buck might say it again and if he does, it will be a callback to 2x8. Also, 6x15 could be included in it since Buck might not be trying to be the "same old Buck" anymore and hopefully it will be enough for the naysayers to understand he's not the same person. IMO, I still think it’s something he will say to Connor especially since the sperm donor arc is supposed to return and OS said in an interview it won’t be revisited before the first 5 episodes.  Hopefully, Buck will finally realize the people he thought knew him really don’t including Connor.

Is it possible Eddie could say it to M, maybe but I don’t know because IMO that doesn’t sound like something he would say to anyone.  But he is all therapized now and he’s supposed to be joking or whatever this season so who knows.

The point of this post is to illustrate how Buck said, “You don’t even know me” in 2x8 and apparently, it’s going to be a callback in 7x5 but the question is, if he does say it, who’s he going to say it to? 👀 

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 4

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Love Letters, mentions of stalking and cheating.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

“Though we face a perilous fight in the sky, I am most afflicted by you when my feet are on solid ground. Try as I might to evade your presence, I am only a man plagued by my jealousy and affections.”

His knuckles cramped as he gripped the pen, the words pouring onto the page, this time his printing was messy less concise. It obviously hadn’t worked the first time, writing a letter to relieve his thoughts, they still overwhelmed him. He was sure no one else had noticed you had been acting strange lately, maybe your friend but none of the men you interacted with. There was a curiosity in your gaze, as if you were always trying to decipher if they were him. He had left his last letter on your pillow, nearly getting trapped in the cabin as your group returned to base, being in there felt wrong, he would find other ways to leave any future letters. The letter he currently wrote would never be met by your eyes at all.

He knew he was being foolish, he could not feel such jealousy while he hid himself behind paper and ink. Yet, there you were in the window, simple but ever so captivating and unknowingly fuelling the growing fire. The letter he had tucked in his jacket pocket in a rush now felt like it was burning the skin underneath. You were distracted by the coffee, he tucked the paper beneath the ledge without you or anyone else around noticing.

Another party was in full swing, their mission had been successful- they had lost only one plane but they had made it to Scotland for Curt and his crew to land safely. You sat in an armchair in the corner, once again alone. Half of your job was to converse and boost morale so sometimes it was nice to have a little serenity; the girl wouldn’t let you stay alone in the billet, you had tried that. You had not noticed that Major Cleven was seated in the armchair beside you until you heard him chuckling along to the boisterous, out of tune ‘singing’ of John Egan.

“How does does a stoic man like you befriend someone like Major Egan?” You genuinely questioned, their difference more apparent than any similarities besides both men were talented pilots and great leaders.

Cleven glanced over to you, never really having an interaction unless he was getting a coffee in the morning. “He didn’t really give me the choice.”

“He is very social, especially with women yet you sit here alone. Are you married?” You knew that you were potentially overstepping but your curiosity had bested you.

“Not yet.”

The small longing smile and his tone told that he was thinking of someone back home fondly. “So there is a lucky lady awaiting you back home?”

“Marge.” He handed you the small photograph that he kept in his breast pocket. You studied her beauty, clear skin, perfect curls and joyous smile.

“She’s real pretty Major.” You returned the photograph, “And lucky to have someone so dedicated to her. I’m betting you that most of these men dancing around here tonight all have unsuspecting sweethearts waiting for them at home.”

The Major nodded, his eyes meeting those of his approaching friend, “I am not a betting man.”

Egan occupied the empty armchair on the other side of Cleven, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, “Your bombardier is one of those men if I do recall.”

“Dougie and I are merely friends, sir.” You once again defended yourself, feeling less embarrassed and more adamant.

“No fella waiting at home?” Egan asked, having overheard your previous comments about the ever so lovely Marge.

“Not at home,” Suddenly the men’s gazes felt heavy on you, or maybe it was your heart in your chest that felt heavy. “I believe he’s across the continent now, and I am no longer his to consider.”

“Just means you can dance with any man here.” Egan shrugged it off, sensing the tenderness of the subject. “Say Brady, why don’t you take our girl for a spin around the floor?”

John Brady looked up with his wide eyes upon being volunteered.

“Oh, You don’t have to John, I am perfectly capable of finding my own dance partner.” You assured him but he was already tucking away his pipe but then you were interrupted by a frantic Douglass.

“Helen was telling me about some letters?” His voice was low but not quite a whisper, attracting the curiosity of the men around you.

“Please, excuse us.” You sent the group a tense smile before dragging the bombardier by his elbow into the quiet night air.

It seems like he’s trying to give you a stern look but it comes off more as concerned. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “They are just letters of admiration.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Dougie, they’re just from some harmless airman who had nothing better to do.” You simply brushed off his concern over the matter.

“They are clearly depraved, watching you like that, taunting you.” He insisted, his voice lowering to a whisper as a small group approached to enter the hall. You led him further away from the entrance to keep anymore of your conversation away from prying ears.

“And when you were gonna tell me that you have a sweetheart at home?”

It was his turn to sigh, fidgeting uncomfortably at the topic. “That is complicated.”

He was not expecting your heel to harshly slam against his booted toe, pain exploding throughout his foot. “Ouch. What the hell was that for?”

“Stop being an idiot.”

“This isn’t about me, it is about these letters.”

“Which everyone knows about now, thanks to you.” Your voiced raised louder than you had heard it in months, your frustration with the situation reaching its limit. “Good night, Dougie.”

You left no room for the conversation to continue as you wandered off into the darkness. Your night had been ruined and no one could stop you from your serenity now.

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers @jointherebellion215 @gretagerwigsmuse

[lostinthewiind]

Hi! Hope you're having a good day! You are so right, the Generation Kill fics are very rare, it's a shame.

Could you please write something for Nate Fick where the reader is oblivious and doesn't realize that he loves them?

Thaaanks!

Atypical

Nathaniel "Nate" Fick - Generation Kill

Rating: All ages

It had been a long tour. Iraq was brutal from start to finish, and even now, when you knew you would be heading back to the States in a couple of days, it still didn't feel real.

Staring out at the vast Iraqi desert that surrounded the base camp, you exhaled long and deep—a last-ditch attempt to expel the weeks of dust that accumulated in your lungs.

"Ready to head back home?" A familiar voice came from behind you.

You smiled to yourself as you scooted over, making room for your visitor in the back of the truck you had found refuge in. "And here I was thinking I had finally found a moment of peace and quiet in this damn war."

Nate smirked as he sat down next to you, his bright blue eyes practically sparkling in the sun. You had seen a lot of things you wouldn't ever forget while in Iraq, most of them bad—but Nate's eyes were one of the few good things that lingered in your mind.

"Sorry to disturb your personal oasis in the back of this Motor T rust bucket." The truck made a worrying sound as he shifted his weight and he quirked a brow. "Point made."

"Well maybe if you had whipped your men into shape more, I wouldn't have to feel as though Motor T is the only place I can go for some quality alone time," you told him as you tilted your head toward the sunset.

"Manimal trying to buy your underwear off of you again?"

You choked on your next breath. "How the hell do you know about that?"

Nate laughed. "I know about everything that goes on in my platoon."

"Either way, no, that wasn't happening ... not again, at least." You shook your head. "I was just trying to take some time to reflect. I thought going home would be a happy feeling."

"You're not happy?"

"I am. But I'm also not." You tried to explain your complex feelings. "I don't know, the possibility of never seeing any of you guys again isn't as much of a relief as I thought it might be. Don't tell anyone I said that."

"I won't," Nate assured you with a chuckle. "For someone coming into a group of guys who have been together since Afghanistan, you really held your own. It'll be weird if we ship out again and you're not there."

You watched as the night sky shifted from a brilliant shade of orange into a dark purple. "Give it some time and I'll be as ready as you are to be done with this war and go home."

"How do you know I'm ready to go home?" Nate asked.

"You're not the only observant one," you answered, earning a dubious look from Nate. "... and I overheard you and Brad talking."

Nate nodded when you confirmed his suspicions. "That sounds more like it."

"Hey, I am plenty observant!" You smacked him on the shoulder. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't. It's a pretty important quality for a marine."

"True. But still."

"But still?"

Nate turned away from the sunset to look at you. His mouth opened to respond, but before he could get a word out, he decided against it and averted his gaze. "Nothing."

"No, no, no." You grabbed his face with your hand and forced him to look at you once more. In that moment, you didn't think about the fact that you were technically laying hands on your superior. "But still what?"

"I think it's a conversation better had at a later date," he told you as he gently pushed your hand away. "When there's less sand and less gunfire. When we're just normal people, not a Lieutenant and his Corporal."

"You know we could die tomorrow, right?" you reminded him. "Or right now. There could be a sniper lining up the head shot as we speak. What if I died right now and you never got to tell me whatever it is you're being so secretive about?"

Letting out a defeated sigh, Nate reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a ring. It wasn't just some class ring either; no, it was an honest-to-God gold banded ring with a diamond on the top.

"Lieutenant Fick?" Your eyes darted between his face and the ring.

"Please do not call me Lieutenant when I'm holding an engagement ring."

Your mouth fell open. You were at a loss for words. "What ... what the fuck, Nate?"

"I suppose that's better." He clasped his hand firmly around the ring so it was no longer in sight. "When I first met you, I wrote a letter home and mentioned you. Told my folks all about how we had this woman riding with us and how I didn't think she'd last a week."

You were too impatient to wait for the follow-up. "And?" you prompted.

"And my mother sent me back the family ring and told me to let her know when the wedding was."

You laughed. You were aware how incredibly insensitive it was but in that moment, it was the only outlet you could think of for your overwhelming emotions. "What the fuck, Nate?" you whispered.

"You already said that."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm a little shocked in a moment like this. Can you blame me for not exactly expecting a proposal when I didn't even know you had feelings for me?"

Nate rolled his eyes. "I never actually asked you to marry me, now did I?"

"Then what's the ring for?"

"Well obviously it's for engagement!"

"What is happening right now?" You couldn't believe what was going on. Surely, you must have been dreaming. "Did you hit your head when I wasn't looking? Do I need to call Doc Bryan?"

"Oh, my God. I've really fucked this." Nate stuffed the ring back into his pocket. "This is not how I meant to approach this topic."

"What topic?"

"That I'm in love with you!" Nate proclaimed before burying his face in his hands.

A beat of silence passed and you were suddenly very grateful that you had chosen an abandoned corner of the camp to watch the sunset from.

"Nate?" you whispered once more.

"Yes?" he whispered back, his voice even more muffled from his hands.

"Did you just tell me you're in love with me?"

"Yes."

"And that engagement ring in your pocket is for me?"

"Yes." He finally lifted his head to look at you. "Not right now, of course. But yes, theoretically, at some point."

You couldn't help but laugh again. "This is so weird."

Nate made a strangled, embarrassed sound. "You're killing me here." He stood up to leave. "I should just go. This was clearly a mistake."

"Oh, settle down." You grabbed him by his uniform and pulled him back down. "Yes, I had a bit of a strong reaction at first, but considering the circumstances, I think I'm allowed that much. I never said I didn't love you back."

Nate's blue eyes lit up. "Do you?"

"Well, I don't know. I hadn't thought about it until now," you answered. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" That same sound slipped past his lips. "That's romantic."

"Okay, it's not that I've never thought about. You're obviously very attractive and all that," you rephrased. "I've just never thought about it seriously. In case you haven't noticed, we are in the middle of a war."

"I noticed. Which is why the ring's been burning a hole in my pocket until now." He drew in a deep breath, and when you didn't share another thought, he spoke again. "Now what?"

Reaching into his pocket, you fished out the engagement ring and handed it to him. "Now you ask me to marry you."

"Really?" His fingers trembled slightly as they plucked the ring out of your grasp. "Here?"

"Right here." You nodded.

"Okay. Right. Yes." He cleared his throat and jumped down from the back of the truck. Then he offered you a hand down, and once you were both standing on solid ground, he dropped down onto one knee. "Y/N, I know we haven't known each other very long. I know the typical thing is to date for a while before asking this question; hell, the typical thing is to actually have feelings for one another before asking this question. However, as a fellow marine, you know that typical is merely a suggestion. Either way, meeting you has been the highlight of this war, which I know isn't saying much but still ... I'd like for you to be the highlight of the rest of my life as well. Will you marry me?"

Your heart swelled at the gentle words falling from the mouth of one of the toughest men you had ever met. The way Nate looked up at you, as if you had the answer to every question in the world, was beyond endearing. You could truly picture a long, happy life with him.

"No," you answered.

Nate's hopeful smile fell. "No?"

"That's what you get for springing a goddamn engagement ring on me like this." You plucked the ring from his hand before inspecting it. "It is a rather beautiful ring though. Ask me again in a couple months and I'll gladly take it off your hands."

Nate shook his head as he stood back up and dusted off his knee. "And until then?"

"We date," you said matter-of-factly. "As typical as it is, I've had enough atypical for one lifetime."

Nate smiled wide. "I can't wait to marry you."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Doom hunter x mechanic/techy reader that has an obsession with demons. Head scientist reader's cousin/j takes in a partially wounded doom hunter, that SOMEHOW survived the slayer, and is now forced to live in a geek's basement while this crazy human fixes him.

With your underground bunker doubling as a high-tech laboratory inspired by your former workplace, it's the perfect safe haven from the demonic invasion, allowing you to observe those hellish creatures from a safe distance.

After everything went to shit at your UAC division, you took some of the logs, equipment, and schematics and hightailed it out of there. You're fairly certain you were the only survivor--not that you cared too much about finding other people and sticking with them.

You worked better solo, anyways. No more Samuel Hayden reprimanding you for gawking at every demon the facility brought in for study. No coworkers calling you "crazy" for talking about said demons like they were a spectacle.

It was just you, your cozy little bunker....

And the Doom Hunter that somehow survived an attack from the very man he was designed to eliminate.

By some miracle, he hadn't lost the sled yet, although at the time you found him unconscious, you noticed a lot of flesh wounds on his body, and upon dragging him back to your lab for diagnostics you realized he lost the ability to regenerate its plasma shield coating--his most critical defense mechanism.

You've been on a tour to the Doom Hunter Base once before., and while you haven't actually looked at the schematics of this demon before..you wanted to at least try repairing the poor thing.

As of this moment, he was awake and alert with all vitals signs reading steady. Yet despite you being a human with a fresh soul, he didn't seem to have any desire to attack you.

It's not like he could even if he wanted to, given you've detached him from his sled, removed his arm cannon, and kept his chainsaw in a tight restraint.

Even so, his lack of initial aggression was interesting.

"Doom Hunter, could you state your objective to me, please?" You attempted to make conversation.

If only your coworkers could see you now. Being polite to demons and saying "please". They'd probably think you were one of them in disguise.

"Eliminate the Slayer." The Agaddon responded robotically, glancing all around the room, the yellow optics in his visor flickering with a hazy glow. "Unable to locate the Slayer--ERROR....have...I failed the mission? Am I still a useless machine?"

"..now who told you that? Deag Ranak?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you fearlessly stepped closer. "You don't have to listen to him anymore, big guy. He's um...done with the Doom Hunter project indefinitely."

You considered saying "dead", as you've overheard chatter on the broadcasts that another hell priest in the tundral area has fallen, significantly crippling the demonic invasion.

But perhaps...you shouldn't say that straight to his creation's face. You don't know what reaction that would provoke.

"..he is?"

'Shit, I hope the deag didn't install a lie-detector into these fellas..'

"Yep." You insisted. "He called it quits and fed you to the wolf in green armor."

"......"

"The Slayer, I mean."

"Release me." He growled, baring his teeth as he stared down at you. "Must find and eliminate the Slayer."

"Why? So he can kill you properly?" You huffed, shaking your head at his defiance. "If I were a demon, I'd be bless--erm..relieved. I heard he's like a god...but I guess even gods can make mistakes."

"The Slayer is no god." The Doom Hunter was growing aggravated, as the computer screen showed his heartrate elevating. "Release me, mortal, and you may be spared when this world is created anew-"

"Yeah I'm not buying that--woah!" You quickly shuffled back as he snarled and tried grabbing you with its long claws. "C'mon, don't be like that. I can't just send you back out there to die. What if...I made you more combat-efficient? Give the Slayer a real challenge? Will you comply if I gave you special upgrades?"

His hostility faltered for a moment, and he tilted his head. "Upgrades? To kill the Slayer?"

"Those, and then some. But you'll have to listen to me and...protect me from other demons. I can't exactly give you any upgrades if they take my soul, y'know."

"....understood."

"So...do we have a deal?"

"....deal accepted. Awaiting further upgrades." He confirmed.

"Sweet!" You grinned like a child on Christmas morning, before rushing to the table that held a holographic projection of the arm cannon. "But first, I wanna make some cosmetic changes to this. Oh this is gonna be fun!"

"Fun...yes.." The Agaddon emitted a small robotic chuckle.

At first, he wasn't too thrilled at the idea of being trapped in some ex-scientist's basement with a soul fresh for the taking.

But if you could give him the means to exact revenge on the Slayer?

How could he possibly refuse?

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[dllamarama]

Episode 8 Queen of Tears BaekHong recap

Scene: Baek Hyun Woo’s universe has been Hong Hae In all along

The flashback to when Hyun Woo proposed to Hae In proves once again that Hyun Woo is a FOOL. That is his MBTI for sure. I’ll just combine this with episode 15 of this drama. At first I understand that it didn’t occur to him that it was all possible due to Hae In playing her chaebol card and renting all those places for them to date. But how is it possible that it never occurred to him after he knew that she is the heir to Queens Group? Making the connection is not that hard isn’t it? Anyhow… Hyun Woo really loves the universe in making decisions, doesn't he? He proposed to Hae In, believing that the universe is on their side and it is the sign for him to finally pop the question. He is such a simple and unassuming man. I’d just said it here, I really love this simple wedding band (yeah right, Bvlgari) from Hyun Woo instead of the other ring. I just loved it on her finger. Back to his universe, yeah, since Hae In was playing the universe all along, no wonder he never got the answer that he wanted for their divorce from the tiny leaves. No one is on his side in this world because his universe belongs to Hong Hae In entirely he will only realise it in episode 15.

I love the transition from their flashback to their current situation and again when Hae In remembered their memory from Germany and when she is back to reality once again. It was very beautifully crafted by the team. Back to the scene, Hyun Woo is hoping that this moment will last forever and Hae In will never remember their fight and his betrayal. But he would never allow that to happen no matter how bad the situation will turn out for him. He would rather face the consequences of his past self instead of being a more horrible human being to Hae In. He would rather she resented him instead of losing her to herself. Hae In finally able to remember the event in Germany and the harsh words that were uttered by Baek Hyun Woo and she was again traumatised by his words. She felt horrible that he’d seen her like this, in a situation where she is defeated by her illness and being cheated by herself and showing vulnerable emotion to Baek Hyun Woo, the man that despised her whom also the one made her life miserable. She finally makes up her mind…and they divorce.

Scene: In a day of Baek Hyun Woo

Hae In was reminiscing about the sunset they saw together when they were dating. We are already halfway through the series and all their dating flashbacks were heavy on Hae In being the only one exploring Hyun Woo’s life. She knows everything about Hyun Woo; his family, his hometown, his routine, his daily life but we never got anything about her while they were dating. It was obviously because he assumed that she was poor and even when she tried to explain it to him, he didn’t believe her. So, basically their relationship foundation prior to getting married was not strong. It was built based on assumption from Hyun Woo about Hae In, while she fully understands him and his lifestyle. So, their marriage is bound to find its own destruction anyway. Hyun Woo should’ve known and understood her family dynamic first before making the decision to marry her after she reveals that she is a chaebol. Instead, they got married right after because they were madly in love. While actually, he was at the beginning of knowing the “real” Hong Hae In. Hae In already has the data about him during their dating period but all the data about Hae In was new for him.

Hae In follows Hyun Woo’s steps because let’s be honest here… she fcking loves him and she misses her (ex) husband. She somehow started to really understand his life while they were married. She looked around and felt sad(?) that he was running alone while others were working out in pairs. When she overheard Hyun Woo and Yang Gi’s conversation, she felt guilty for being oblivious about Hyun Woo’s suffering throughout their marriage and somehow got her answer as to why he was always spending time alone. She also got to know that despite all that had happened, Hyun Woo still wanted to stay by her side.

I just love her dialogue to YES to put him at his place, to stop crossing the line, “I married (him) because I liked Baek Hyun Woo that said he’d be by my side, and I divorced him because I’m sorry for what he had to go through to be by my side.” The point is that she won’t just marry anyone because she needs to do it, she married Baek Hyun Woo because she liked him. Her husband will always be Baek Hyun Woo and no one else. She had never needed a man that can bring her more wealth because she is capable of doing it independently. She chose Hyun Woo because of his promise and above all because she loved him and still is. Despite Hyun Woo’s betrayal, it doesn’t change the fact that he is a good man which is something that YES can ever be.

Scene: Hae In to the rescue

Due to YES manipulation and Queens Family stupidity, Hyun Woo was being suspected as the whistle-blower and was denied access to the Queens Group intranet and building. My, my, my… there she is, his (ex) wife comes to his rescue. Who would believe that a divorced couple would protect each other like them? Who in their right mind would do that? Only them, Baek Hong couple supremacy! Anyway, it just occurred to me that this is actually the first time they talk to each other after the divorce. They seemed much more at ease after the divorce and silently doing their best to protect each other (fools!! Fools in love!) But, Hae In is angry and frustrated at Hyun Woo who was humiliated while he just silently enduring it. She was then perplexed by his response, “I’m doing this because I want to do it and still stay here where I wanted to”. Even in the middle of this, he still worried for her health. He will be ok as long as her condition is fine. See, this is why Hyun Woo is a good man. We knew it and even Hae In knew that he wanted to be by her side, but he never does anything to persuade her to accept him again. He is just there, waiting patiently and understanding her. A gentleman that respects her decision and silently protecting her.

Summary:

Like what he promised her in Germany, he will follow whatever decision she makes for their marriage and so far he is keeping it, much to our frustration of course. He accepted her decision to divorce, following her direction regarding the divorce settlement and respecting her space while still protecting her. He never made any effort to defend himself or make excuses to her, for he truly felt remorseful for his action. He only hopes for Hae In to continue her treatment and regain her health. His love for her is selfless. In the meantime,

Hae In wanted to live…

She also wanted to stay by his side… they wanted the same thing but what is stopping them? We knew that Hyun Woo is not gonna make a move until he knows that Hae In has really given him the forgiveness. The key is on Hae In but she knows her condition is not improving currently. Being together will only make them suffer and she doesn’t want that, especially for Hyun Woo I think. They just need some time to think and realise that they actually don’t have much time together to be wasting it by not being together.

[midnightmajick]

Everybody Talks

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff!

Word count: 1,124 words

For the best experience reading this, listen to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. That's what I was listening to when I wrote it!

You and Mike have known each other for years. So whenever you wanted to come over, you knew he’d leave the key under the flowerpot to the left of the door. Today is no different.

You lift the flowerpot, and sure enough, the key is sitting right under it. You pick it up and insert it into the lock on the door before turning it and twisting the doorknob. You pull open the door and call out, “Hey, what’s up?”

Your voice echoes through the otherwise empty house as you walk through the door. Abby must be at a sleepover again. Or on a school trip. Either way, Mike’s alone for the weekend, and based on how fast his footsteps approach you, he’s happy to see you.

“Not much, you?” he replies as he wraps his arms around you. He’s very happy to see you. “Not a ton, you wanna play Super Smash Brothers?” “Sure,” Mike responds. “By the way, would it be okay if I invited my friends Monica, Jimmy, and Natalie over? I know you’ve never met them, but I thought it’d be fun.” “Dude, it’s your house, you don’t have to ask me.” “Well I just wanted to be polite. You are the guest after all, I have to ask you.” You snort in amusement.

“I suppose that’s okay,” you tease. “In all honesty, it sounds like a lot of fun to me.” “Alright, lemme call them real quick.” He walks over to the phone and begins dialing. “Ok, I’ll get the controllers.” You grab five Wii remotes and five nunchucks.

Before long, Mike’s friends show up. You all sit down on the couch and start playing. They’re all super nice, but nobody is as good at Super Smash Brothers as you are. Except Mike. But he’s been button mashing the whole time. It annoys you, but it isn’t working for him as well as your strategy works for you. That, and you’re too focused on fighting everyone else to do anything about it.

You all play several rounds, and before you know it, nine o’clock rolls around. Everyone else is in the kitchen talking, except for Natalie, but she’s taking an important call in the other room. That leaves only you and Mike, and you’re both still duking it out.

“Dude, you can’t do that, you’re cheating!” you complain. “No I’m not, I can button mash if I want!” he snickers. He clearly finds this hilarious. “No fair! If I did that, I’d beat the crap out of you!” “Would you though?” “Totally!” “Alright, do it then. I dare you,” he challenges.

You sigh in annoyance, you don’t want to. You know it’s what he wants, but right now he’s winning, so how else can you beat him? Then again, that would destroy your dignity as a gamer. Right? Maybe not. If he beats you by button mashing, it’ll be embarrassing. But if you button mash and win... Maybe button mashing is only bad if you lose doing it. And you’re great at this. You can’t lose, right?

“Okay, fine. Game on, Mike,” you say as you furrow your brow in concentration. You both begin button mashing, and you immediately notice that it isn’t going to work well for you. He smirks at you, he knows he’ll win if he continues. You have to do something, but what? You don’t want to wipe that smile off of his face, but you don’t want to lose. You’re going to lose, though, you know it. You think, and your mind wanders while your character flounders on the screen.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a beeping noise from the TV. You lost. And Mike is determined to rub it in your face. But you’re determined to shut him up. You’re a bit annoyed, and all you want to do is slap your hand over his mouth, but you don’t care about his teasing once you remember it. The exchange you overheard between him and Abby a few days ago. The one where he admitted to liking you.

You ponder what to do about it, you always liked Mike too, but you weren’t supposed to hear that conversation. And you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. That’s the last thing you wanted, and you knew that’s what would happen if you talked to him about it. But if you both liked each other, why shouldn’t you do something about it? Plus, all of his friends were in different parts of the house. And then it hits you. You can shut him up and do something about it at the same time.

“Ha! Told you button mashing was superior! Not even you can de-” And then your lips smash against his. He’s surprised, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he leans forward, into your lips. He closes his eyes and melts into you, and it’s clear he’s enjoying this almost as much as you are, if not more. Several moments pass, and before you know it, Mike is pulling away for air. You’re both panting heavily, having given into the moment completely. His next words come out in ragged gasps, his attempts to calm himself proving futile. “I-I’ve wanted that for so long...”

But before you can respond, you hear a cup fall to the floor. You look up to see Natalie gawking at both of you. Mike’s face is bright red, and you’re certain yours is too. You grab his hand and squeeze, trying to show him that you’re not going anywhere, that you’re there to support him. He smiles and squeezes back. Natalie runs off to the kitchen, no doubt to tell everyone what she just saw, leaving you and Mike staring at each other. You’re both speechless, unsure what to do, that is, until he starts laughing.

“What’s so funny? She’s gonna go tell them, I thought you’d at least try to stop her. It doesn’t bother me that they know, but I know you aren’t usually open about that kind of thing.” He sighs in relief when you say them knowing doesn’t bother you, and giggles a bit before he continues. “Normally it would bother me, but I know you’re there for me. If you’re not afraid, then maybe I don’t need to be either,” he speaks softly.

“Also, Natalie isn’t exactly great at keeping secrets. She’d probably tell them later even if I stopped her. She wouldn’t do it to be mean, it’s just that she can’t help herself,” he explains. “Are you sure? I want to make sure you’re okay,” you tell him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I have you,” he responds, gazing lovingly into your eyes. “Everybody talks anyway.”

[lasagnaboxlesbian]

CHAPTER ONE OUT NOW!! [link]

It’s sapphic silly hours so I wanted to post a little sneak peek of Chapter 1 (unfinished but alas… the ronance brain worms hath spoken) for my next multichapter fic!!

a Nancy POV rewrite of season 1 featuring ronance

Robin moves in next door to the Wheelers prior to the events of s1

Comphet Lesbian Nancy

fic title is based on the mbav theme song “Girl Next Door” by Copperpot

i think i’ll call her on the phone (or am i better off alone?)

Chapter 1 - fruit

August 15th, 1983

HAWKINS, INDIANA

Three knocks to Nancy’s open door had her turning her head to the voice she knew was waiting.

Holly and Mike usually just barge in, Mike would’ve yelled some excuse 50 miles a minute while Holly would’ve just toddled past the squeaky door. Her father, Ted, would’ve waited for her to skip down the steps for dinner and asked her to stay for a minute as he had something to say.

That left one person.

“Nancy, I told you we were leaving in five minutes,” her mother, Karen, stood firm by the door, back straight, hands on her hips as she looked over at her daughter disapprovingly. “Hang up on Barb, you can always call her back once we go see them.”

Nancy pursed her lips and nodded her head, the receiver of the phone shielded by a newly polished hand. “Yeah… yeah… just give me a second.”

Karen’s heels clacked as she walked downstairs, “Make sure to pick up the fruit basket on the table! I’ll be waiting by the door.”

She waited until the footsteps were farther enough away that huffed a breath, hoping Barb would hear on the other end. “God… she’s been-” she sighed again. “Anyways… um” Nancy looked out of her window, “you know the Taylors, right? Lived next door?”

“Yeah, yeah… my mom mentioned something about them… apparently the mom was like… uh never- nevermind.” Barb whispers, “Anyways… you were saying?”

Nancy’s brows furrow but elect to ignore that in favor of ranting to her best friend before having to put up false appearances. “New people moved in, my mom is obsessed with bringing all the neighbours a housewarming gift since it’s rare for anyone to move in around here, so-”

“Young lady, I am waiting!” Karen shouted from below.

“Look, I’ll call when I’m back, alright?”

“‘Course, Nance. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Click

Nancy bit back a smile, standing up from where she had been lounged across her bed. Facing herself in the mirror, she adjusted one of the clips holding back her long, wavy brown locks.

“Nancy!” Karen shouted.

She whipped her head to the door, rushing out as she slammed it behind her.

“No slamming doors,” she heard her father rumble from the lazy boy sat across the TV, casually flipping through a newspaper.

It was Saturday, about a week before school started, and Nancy would be faced with dealing with the new people across the yard.

Passing her mother she muttered, “And of course Mike doesn’t have to come.”

“I heard that.” Her mother spoke to Nancy’s retreating form, continuing once she saw her daughter with the gaudily packaged fruit basket. “Michael is at Will’s today. And as far as I’m concerned, you are at home.”

Nancy shuffled in her old white heels, the sides nipping at her ankles. “It’s not my fault-”

“Enough. I am not having this conversation before we go see the Buckley’s.”

Nancy bit her tongue, she was already under practical house arrest after she snuck out last week to go hang out with Barb past curfew.

In her defense, it was because Barb had sworn that she overheard Steve was going to be at Tiffany’s Birthday and had an open invite. They weren’t even planning on going in! Just scoping out the scene to see if the possibility of what Steve had told her at the end of last year was real. That he had started to notice her over freshman year, and that he wasn’t planning on seeing anyone anytime soon.

All they had to do was snoop around to see if he had a date, and Barb would shove it in Nancy’s face that he was just like the other dumb jocks that treated the high school hierarchy like it mattered.

But all it took was her mother opening her door and seeing the window open for her to jump down the Holland’s lines, both mothers desperately searching for the missing pair.

She’d been grounded until the school year and wasn’t keen on that getting a punishment far enough that they’d disconnect her personal line.

God, she couldn’t imagine not being able to talk to Barb about all the bullshit going on in her life. She always felt like all the family responsibility had been placed on her, meanwhile Mike got to coast along her coat tails. He was perpetually too young to be at fault for anything, so obviously the brunt of her parent’s wrath had to be placed on her.

She was the nice girl.

She would fall in line when needed.

And unlike her siblings, she was apparently old enough to understand the consequences of a bad reputation.

But she knew that it wasn’t just reputation that kept her in an elevated position of responsibility. She was the oldest daughter, of course everyone would be breathing down her neck to be the perfect little girl.

“-ncy?” Karen whispered, tapping the girl’s shoulder.

Nancy must’ve zoned out for the short walk across the driveway because she only now did she become aware of the splintered wooden door in front of her, the basket gone heavy in her hands.

She glanced back at Karen from the corner of her eyes, looking down as a taunt smile pulled against her cheeks. “Sorry- sorry… I was just… thinking. I’m fine”

Karen didn’t say anything, and Nancy didn’t want to look at her in fear of the same expression she’d worn since that night.

Disappointment.

Her mother knocked on the door, and Nancy waited with baited breath, as the lock clicked and the door opened.

Stood in a lose-fitting white t-shirt and pair of cut off jean shorts, was a girl. Her hand tightly gripped a can of Coke and her brows furrowed at the two stood on her doorstep.

This is going to be so awkward.

“Hi!” Karen chirped, the girl giving Nancy a once over before looking at her mom.

Nancy only felt slightly miffed at the fact that the look she’d given her mother was a lot less venomous than the one thrown her way.

Asshole.

[END OF PREVIEW]

Thank you so much for reading!! ❤️✨

Not sure for an exact date of posting considering current works are taking priority right now, but I was really excited to share this one!!

[gogogoats]

Dragonblade Deep Dive - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen – Pledge Brothers

Be advised that quotation marks are a real struggle in this chapter.

A shockingly refreshing moment of insight from Jane, wherein she acknowledges she is not responsible for Jester’s feelings for her or his resulting depressive state. I am astounded.

Pepper finishes tending to Robert’s injuries and moves on to feeding him, and Robert compliments him with a “warm, genuine smile” which “touches everyone gathered in the kitchen”. Gag, there goes my appetite. Nothing like universal adoration for an abusive predator to put me off my crumpets.

Theodore summons Jane. You may recall he was staggeringly drunk about 10 minutes ago. Well, bottle that miracle tonic, he’s perfectly sober now.

Lavinia announces she is going to check on the “pig egg”. Believe it or not, this is important later.

Jane and Theodore head to the throne room, where they have a conversation about comfort and discomfort, dreams and destiny. Sometimes I think the author *cough* Sir Theodore just likes hearing the sound of his own voice. He tells Jane a tale of time spent in a dungeon with Haroldus, Robert’s father, and an unnamed fourth man. Sir Theodore says this happened around 40 years ago, so already the maths doesn’t add up with Haroldus being not-yet-50 now. How was he an imprisoned “young adventurer for hire” scheduled for execution at less than 10-years-old?? Theodore’s story has more holes than a colander, but let’s take it at face value. He is here in the kingdom, and has been training Jane, and Haroldus has been doing whatever he’s been doing, AND Robert’s inherited obsession with dragons that his father had developed, and his resulting unhinged behaviour ALL come down to some long-dead young man’s dying wish based on something he read once?

Honestly?

Moving on.

Gunther is looking for Jester. He hopes he’s not in the tavern getting drunk. He then follows this thought with “(Jester) wasn’t much of a drinker, except when he was taking solace.” Umm, not the reassurance you think it is.

He finds Jester in the stables and psychoanalyses him, before filling him in further on Magnus’ schemes.

There’s more about how Magnus plans for Gunther to be married to Lavinia in his bid to take over control of the kingdom, and how Gunther plans to prevent it.

When Jester points out that Magnus will be executed for treason, Gunther has no issue with that, and in fact lists several benefits, including avenging his late mother. Has Gunther learned of his mother’s death, or just assumed it is so? We’ll probably never be told.

They talk about Lavinia, and Gunther points out that he’s not responsible for any confused feelings she may have, but he will have saved her from a twisted and loveless marriage to himself in which she will be used as a pawn for Magnus to control her kingdom. But you know, this makes Gunther heartless in Jester’s opinion. Because of course.

And now the conversation turns to Robert. Jester asks if he is one of Lavinia’s potential suitors (?!?!) Gunther says the man with the “pigtails and brooding eyes” is “far more handsome” than any of the portraits. Good grief. He asks Jester what he knows, and then pretends he and Jester are talking about something else when he hears Theodore approaching.

Theodore tells him to go babysit the drunk guests in the cellar. At this stage that’s Haroldus, right? Who else? Ivon will be there too, and Gunther is to let him do the drinking, while Gunther does the watching. It seems Theodore isn’t worried about what Gunther might hear. Interesting.

Theodore then asks Jester for his “wise council” and all three depart.

Lavinia’s presence in the hayloft is then revealed to the reader, where she has overheard everything and her world is losing all of its colour, apparently.

End chapter.

Overall impressions:

Theodore’s story/explanation/justification was a total stretch from start to finish, and doesn’t paint him or his motivations for anything in a very flattering light.

Gunther has a solution to Magnus’ frankly vile schemes which will save the Kingdom and Lavinia, and Jester’s first concern is for Magnus’ wellbeing??

How does Magnus’ plan make sense anyway, has he forgotten that Cuthbert is first in line to the throne and Gunther won’t become king by marrying Lavinia? Or is regicide also on his to-do list?

What wise counsel is Theodore seeking from Jester? For everyone’s sake I hope he’s not giving him any information about Jane.

Time passed since start of novel: day two, the never ending afternoon

Number of quotation mark abuses in this chapter: too many to count

[ksfoxwald]

Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Part 4 Chapter 4

Sympathetic Magic

Besides the trash monster, this is the most obvious example of magic in the book, which frustrated me as a child. But I suppose I've gotten more open minded about magic since then.

From The Golden Bough:

If we analyse the principles of thought on which magic is based, they will probably be found to resolve themselves into two: first, that like produces like, or that an effect resembles its cause; and second, that things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed.

Polly, of course, has read The Golden Bough, and between that and her own gift for knowing things, cobbles together a ritual using the photographs, some hemlock, some fire, various items she's received from Tom, and her own hair. She is thus able to project herself to where Tom is now, similar to the way she overheard the conversation between Tom and Morton when they were not actually in the House. And she sees Laurel is with him, asleep on a couch, until she wakes up and sees Polly before she's even gotten any real answers.

It seems significant that Polly manages three questions - the magic number, in many places.

"What are you doing?/How often do you get together with Laurel?" (Tom only answers once, so I'll count it as one) - As little as I can help it these days "Does Laurel own you or something?" - You could say that "I can't help you if you don't tell me anything, can I?" - I sent you enough books about it.

Then Laurel wakes up and sees Polly. There might be something in The Golden Bough about this, because it's not addressed directly in the book, but one of the things that keeps getting referenced is that the Leroys operate on a principle of balance. They are more powerful than Polly, but they can't use that power unless Polly does something to interrupt their power, and then they can only affect things to a similar degree that she has; hence why everything has been so subtle, because neither party has taken direct action until now, when Polly upset that balance and opened herself up to their influence.

Seb invites Polly to Hunsdon House, where they are hosting a fancy tea that is "the kind of event you dread when you are fifteen." Polly is given food, but there is no mention of whether or not she eats it, or whether that would make a difference at this point. Laurel has different goals, in any case. She traps Polly in polite, sweet conversation, telling her that Tom is dying of "one of those cancer things," and doesn't want to spend his few remaining years being pestered by some child.

Polly is so bleached with shame that she blurts out "Of course I'll forget him! Just leave me alone!" which sets the terms of her bargain. Tom comes by to say goodbye, attempting to kiss her forehead but Polly moves at just the wrong moment for it to land, awkward and sideways, on her mouth, which is a good metaphor for how their relationship is now - not quite that of equals but she's no longer quite a child, that they have something awkward and messy and precious.

And after that she only has one set of memories.

I'd also like to note that Laurel mentions that the funeral where she met Tom was indeed for Seb's mother, to which Polly replies "I thought it was your mother?" Tom never even hinted at that, describing him as a "son of Laurel's cousin - distant enough" at the funeral. Either he didn't know, or he didn't want Polly to know for whatever reason.

Returning to adult Polly, she decides to take Granny's advice about books and grabs two at random. The first is the book of fairy tales, which falls open to "East of the Sun and West of the Moon," which Polly feels a good deal less judgmental about now. She also realizes that Tom was indeed being very obvious about the situation with the books he was sending. The second book is even more obvious - The Oxford Book of Ballads, where the first two entries are Tam Lin and Thomas the Rhymer, the songs that have formed the chapter headings of the book since the beginning. In fact, the one of the last chapter was "But the night is Hallowe'en Janet/The morn is Hallowday" and Polly realizes with horror that it is now October 30th. Time is running out. A quick call to Seb confirms that he is not available on the 31st, tied up in a "tedious family gathering."

(Fiona remarks that she's disappointed Polly didn't dump him, considering how she's been acting lately, but Polly assures her he is going to get dumped soon)

[ambertrulife]

Fly - Hazbin Hotel AU

Hey there every one ! An another OS for my AU ! Really, I enjoyed writting them ! I'm so exited to tell you what I planned for the rest of the story ! What my headcnon are and were this fanfiction is leading to ! I just hoped thaht you liked it the same way I do !

______________________________________________________________

Vaggie watched Charlie wave her arms in a wing-like motion as she mimed the act of taking flight to Adam, who looked up at the sky and swore. The former exorcist couldn't suppress a smile when she saw her girlfriend ignore the insults and continue to imitate the movements the new sinner's gaunt wings had to perform. Although Adam seemed annoyed, he seemed to be enjoying the attention.

It had now been just over a month since the extermination had been called off, and the former angel had been killed only to be reborn as a sinner. He had the same face and build, but his once Caucasian skin was now a grayish-green tone. Ebony goat horns had grown on his head, the base of them a dripping blood red. Those once majestic wings were now plucked, skeletal. He tried not to show it, but this last aspect bothered him enormously. Vaggie had often caught him staring into a hall mirror at his flying appendages with an expression of pure loss. Everyone had seen him do it, even if the former angel thought he was discreet. So did Charlie, which had led to this situation.

"See? Like this!" exclaimed the princess, gesturing wildly.

"I know how to fly, bitch." grinned Adam. He crossed his arms. "More than you, for that matter."

"So, why don't you give it a try?" asked the princess, her smile still in place, despite a slight irritation in her eyes.

The First Man raised a mocking eyebrow and, in a gesture, lifted those balding wings.

"Isn't there something wrong when you see that? Doesn't it ring a bell?" he said in a clearly sarcastic tone.

"It doesn't mean a thing!" tells Charlie with a little wave of his hand. "There are indeed preachers and natives who fly without having feathers!"

"I don't think so," Adam grunted. Charlie gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I've been here longer than you! You can believe me when I tell you," she declared in a gentle yet firm tone. The First Man crossed his arms, looking sulky.

"They're not ancient angels." he contradicted, clearly more out of contradiction than real conviction. "When those bastards died, they must have been afraid of heights or something. Me, I loved flying. Hell will never let me enjoy soaring again. At least, not without drugs."

Charlie's sympathetic smile turned into a more compassionate one. She placed a hand on Adam's arm, who flinched at the contact, though he didn't pull away.

"I'm sure you'll be able to fly again, Adam. I'll do anything to make sure you do."

The First Man looked at her for a long moment before clicking his tongue.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, bitch." he said, his eyes lost in contemplation of the Hotel.

"And yet she's right, old friend!" a voice suddenly exclaimed, startling all three of them.

Vaggie looked up into the sky and was not so surprised to see Lucifer himself descending, all six wings spread, a provocative smile on his face. The ex-exterminator couldn't prevent an amused smile from appearing on her features, while those of her girlfriend took on an expression of pure admiration. Adam, for his part, frowned even more.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" snarled the former angel, causing a sneer of pure malice to appear on the King of the Hell's face.

"I happened to be out and about with my beautiful immaculate wings" replied the latter, in a clearly provocative tone "When I overheard your conversation! So I thought I'd come and cheer you up a bit!"

The King did a graceful spin to finish behind Adam who, far from being surprised, looked at the scene as if he'd seen it a million times. Charlie couldn't help but applaud, while Vaggie looked up at the sky: what a show-off!

"The Hell may be a place of punishment," Lucifer continued, pinching one of Adam's gaunt wings. "But it is above all a place of possibilities. Nothing is lost here, you just have to want it and overcome it."

Adam grimaced and took a few steps backwards, away from the King.

"What kind of bullshit are you talking, again?!" snapped Adam. "Hell is the very cradle of perdition!"

"That's what Paradise wants you to believe," Lucifer sneered, leaning forward to come face to face with Adam. "Yet you have before you the evidence that it isn't true."

"What?" questioned the First Man. He raised an eyebrow in incomprehension. The angel rose to his feet and gently ran his hand over one of his wings.

"You weren't here because you were in Eden" he said, his tone hard "But I didn't have my wings when I got here. Still, what a surprise!" he made an exaggerated expression of astonishment, which made Charlie laugh. "Look what I've got here! If those aren't wings, I wonder what are!"

"You're a Seraphim," Adam retorted, arms crossed. "You don't work like the others."

"Okay, so, how do you explain Maggie having wings too?" asked Lucifer, which provoked a frown from Adam.

"Wait, she has wings?" the ex-chief exterminator turned his head towards his former employee. The latter was uncomfortable with this observation and looked at Charlie who, with a nod, encouraged her. She sighed and, in a natural gesture, brought out her flying appendages. She took off with a powerful burst and circled around them, her gestures precise and military. She was fast, relentless and efficient. She returned to the ground but didn't land, looking defiantly at Adam. He was speechless. He stared at her as if she'd just committed the greatest affront he'd ever seen. He was the one who had ripped off her wings, after all.

"See?" said Charlie. She placed a hand on the First Man's arm. He glanced at the princess. "That's why I'm sure you can fly!"

Vaggie paid little attention to the rest of the conversation, reveling in Adam's expression. That bastard thought he'd destroyed her. He thought he'd ripped away everything she held dear, that he'd destroyed her existence and taken away all her angelic essence. He was wrong. Her heart filled with contentment as she watched the Man glued to the ground, knowing she was doing what he could no longer do. Suddenly, she heard a chuckle at her side and, glancing over, saw Lucifer standing there, arms crossed, his gaze also focused on Adam. He still had his provocative expression on his face, clearly pleased with the situation. Vaggie also let out a little giggle, which caught the attention of the King of the Hell. He gave her a sincere smile before his eyes changed from provocative to teasing. Vaggie didn't understand until, suddenly, the King of the Hell moved up a few inches, towering over her slightly. The ex-exterminator looked at Lucifer without really understanding why he was doing this. He merely raised an eyebrow in defiance, but nowhere near as wicked as the expression he had on Adam's face. She then giggled, and with a controlled flap of her wings, she flew past Lucifer by a few centimetres. The King of the Hell did likewise and passed her. They played a few moves before Vaggie, now clearly a player, made the biggest wing movement she could and flew several meters. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, while Lucifer laughed and applauded, clearly delighted. The King of the Hell rolled his shoulders and, with a flap of his wings that didn't seem to be well supported, flew even higher than her, adding several more meters to the distance she had covered.

"That's not fair!" she exclaimed, slightly frustrated. "You've got two pairs of wings more than me!"

"Oh believe me, Maggie!" laughed Lucifer "It's not the number of wings that counts! It's how you use them!"

"But of course!" she giggled, coming up to his level after a few flaps of her wings.

"I assure you it's true!" he said, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Back in the day, I used to get beat at racing by someone with only one pair of wings!"

Vaggie frowned at this answer. She wanted to ask him who it was, but she had a hunch it wasn't the right question to ask.

"How was that possible?" she then questioned.

"She had incredible flying techniques!" he exclaimed as he spun around gracefully. "She loved spins and all she did was tell us they were the key to success!"

Vaggie laughed a little, attracting the attention of Lucifer who, though smiling, raised an eyebrow of incomprehension.

"I'm sorry." she actually apologized "It's just that they taught us a precise and simple flight, to avoid unnecessary fatigue."

"Of course." Lucifer hissed, his gaze lost in the horizon. This provoked another frown from Vaggie. These words were clearly not intended for her. He then turned to her, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"You know what? Little challenge!" he exclaimed, amused. He pointed to a mountain several miles away, on the other side of town. "We're heading for that mountain. On the way, I'm going to make some moves. You'll have to reproduce them to perfection!"

Vaggie looked in the direction he was pointing, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not much of a challenge," she says. Indeed, given the distance, he'd be there in minutes.

"Oh, really?" the King's voice was teasing. He pirouetted and landed on top of her, upside down but motionless, causing the ex-exterminator to blink in surprise. How could he do that? "Wanna bet ?"

Vaggie laughs a little.

"No, no bet with you, sir." she said, then smiled defiantly. "But I accept your proposition. Let's see if I can do your spins."

"That's my girl." he chuckled, flicking her forehead. She blushed a little at the sign of affection and watched him fly away. She followed him.

They then advanced into the city skies and Vaggie followed Lucifer's instructions. He made a series of movements, often artistic, which she reproduced as faithfully as possible. However, she soon came to the conclusion that it wasn't as easy as she'd thought. Her muscles, especially those in her back, were beginning to protest. She was asking a lot of them, much more than when she flew as she'd been taught. Lucifer's choreographies required a lot of work, not least because he made her wings work individually, something she'd always thought impossible. During their training, the instructors had made it clear that efficiency came from the fact that the body was a whole, that it had to be united and synchronized. What Lucifer was making her do was the complete opposite.

She was really starting to tire, but the King of the Hell was very considerate of her. He let her rest, catching her breath as he flew beside her, grabbing her elbow to help her muscles relax. As soon as she'd finally regained enough confidence, he'd start again with new spin, and she'd happily follow him. She'd never had so much fun flying. In Heaven, flying was a necessity, not a pleasure, especially when you were in the army.

They finally arrived at their destination, much later than she had expected. She landed on the mountain floor, hands on knees as she caught her breath. Lucifer landed beside her, not a drop of sweat on him. He looked at her with eyes that were a mixture of teasing and pride.

"Well?" he said, clearly teasing. "Was it easy?"

"Okay, fine, I admit it." she laughed several times. "I was wrong."

He laughed and sat down on the floor, facing the city, his arms resting on his slightly raised knees. She followed suit, relieved to be able to sit down. She spread her legs and stretched her aching back. She heard a clatter of fingers beside her and was not surprised to see a bottle of water in Lucifer's hand.

"Drink." he ordered gently. "Otherwise, you'll cramp up."

"Thank you." she said, taking the bottle of water.

They remained silent for a moment, just long enough for Vaggie to rehydrate before the ex-exterminator spoke again.

"I didn't think it was that physical!" she said, clearly admiring. Lucifer chuckled.

"Michael always thought Raphaëlle was overdoing it," he says wistfully. "It doesn't surprise me that he taught his men to fly in more strategic ways."

Vaggie raised his eyebrows and was suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I wasn't trained by a guy named Michael. My master's name was Luke."

The King of the Hell laughed at this information and patted her gently on the head.

"Trust me, Maggie," he said, "you have more of a connection to Michael than you realize."

The ex-exterminator wanted to ask questions again, now more intrigued than ever, but she felt she shouldn't do so. Lucifer didn't look dangerous like that, but there was a glint of nostalgia in his expression, a glint far more devastating than any rage or hatred could be.

"My name is Vaggie, sir," she said softly.

"I know." he replied. "But Vaggie, it sounds like Vagina and I don't like it."

He suddenly looked embarrassed. He turned to her.

"I mean, if you'd rather I call you by another nickname, you say so, right? Or if you want me to call you by your first name? Because after all, you're the one who decides what people call you." he said in a quick, embarrassed, rambling tone that reminded her very much of Charlie. She smiled fondly at the memory of her girlfriend and, involuntarily, laid her hand on Lucifer's knee. He stopped and looked at Vaggie in amazement. There was a gleam of deep affection in her eyes.

"You can keep calling me that, sir," she said, gently. He smiles at her.

"You can call me Lucifer, if you like," he replied, taking her hand in his. "Or Luci, or future father-in-law, whatever you like."

She suddenly blushed, which made the King of the Hell explode with laughter.

When they returned to the hotel, Charlie was still there, albeit alone. Adam was nowhere in sight. The princess of the Hell looked up at them and her smile lit up when she saw them. The love Vaggie felt for this woman increased considerably and she approached her. Still flying, she placed her forehead against hers in an affectionate gesture that the demoness returned.

"I love your wings," Charlie whispered. Vaggie looked at her and blushed a little at her girlfriend's naughty expression. She glanced at Lucifer, who didn't seem to notice.

"Well, it's time for me to go!" he exclaimed, landing and putting those wings away. He looked affectionately at his daughter. "If you need me to help the other jerk, don't hesitate!"

"Thanks, Dad." she replied as she put an arm around the waist of the ex-exterminator who had also landed.

As the King of the Hell was about to walk away, Vaggie called out to him:

"Would it be possible for us to do it again sometime?"

He turned quickly, slightly surprised, then gave her a big smile.

"Anytime, Maggie," he replied.

"Thank you, Lucifer," Vaggie thanked, looking at him kindly.

He returned her gaze and moved away again. Charlie placed a kiss on her girlfriend's scalp and she turned her attention back to her, slightly surprised.

"I'm glad you're getting on well with my father," said the princess.

"Not difficult." declared the ex-exterminator, resting her head on his shoulder. "You're a lot alike, you know?"

Charlie had a mysterious expression for a second, which made Vaggie frown.

"Baby?" she asked. The princess smiled at her.

"It's nothing," she replied, stroking his cheek. "It's just that... I get that a lot."

The angel frowned, but didn't insist. She could see the same gleam in her companion's eyes as Lucifer's, that painful, devastating gleam that looked like total destruction. Decidedly, she had a lot of questions inside her that she couldn't ask, at least not yet. She placed a light kiss on her girlfriend's lips before returning to the hotel arm in arm. She'd have to investigate. The Morningstar family had many secrets she wanted to discover.

[seewetter]

"In this community, the common viewpoints are as follows:

- Transmisogyny is the penultimate form of oppression, all other oppression either stems from or pales in comparison to it"

Yeah that's not a point of view I've ever encountered. I doubt it will catch on. Perhaps grass touching may help?

"- Transandrophobia is a word that is inherently transmisogynistic"

That gets dragged out of the woodwork every time transmasc people try to describe their own life struggles. I've been on Tumblr since 2011. I've seen them do this when transmascs called their own marginalization "isomisogyny". If people can't ever accept the idea that trans guys have unique negative trans guy experiences when they call it isomisogyny, it's time to give up listening to those people and just do your own thing. Perhaps mock them a little bit for policing your necessary language.

"- Transmascs only face garden-variety transphobia and are privileged by identifying into masculinity"

Yeah, I see that opinion on my dashboard too.

I mean technically, a lot of transmascs do report that people at the workplace treated them better once they presented more male. One trans guy even told a story that Republicans commended him for adopting "the better sex" after telling him they didn't fully approve of his decision to transition.

But obviously transfem-only discourse allows for no sincere engagement with what transmasc people face or what their lives are like. Transfem-only discourse makes it impossible for people to get any idea about how to help transmasc people and presents the liberation of transfems (who have pretty unique problems) as the liberation of all trans people (even though the other part of the community has a in many ways very separate set of problems, not that there isn't common ground).

"- TMA/TME in theory describe who is and is not systemically targeted by transmisogyny, but in practice TMA is used as a synonym for transfems and TME is used to mean transgender individuals who are considered "AFAB". Rarely, TME includes cis women. Very rarely, TME includes cis men. A number of people argue that cis men are in fact TMA because they Could Become Trans Women." Yeah, that last sentence sounds like a TERF psyop. (Wow we use a lot of all caps here, lol.)

Anyway, all the other things you mention in the above excerpt are opinions I've encountered in the wild.

Although I also encounter transmascs who make generalizations about transfems based on a single Twitter user who said a thing that they don't like. Like one transfem went to the supermarket, overheard a conversation between two people and pictured them as transfem people in the making (probably out of loneliness) and shared this fantasy (without identifying the people) online. And then you get a thread with a hundred transmasc people drawing all kinds of wild conclusions about all transfems because they felt she crossed a line. And all of them had zero self-awareness that transmascs also say stuff like that.

What I'm saying is: I agree that tme and tma can be abused. I don't really think this means those terms should get ditched, just expanded.

"Aside from the viewpoints in this community, however, behavior is also important to note. So some notes on behavior common in this community:

- Trans men, transmascs, and anyone who speaks up in defense of them are told, both by people who identify as TMA and people who identify as TME, that wanting a specific word to talk about their issues is transmisogynistic and a show of male privilege (and in the case of transfems, that they are not real transfems)."

Yeah, it's transfem-only discourse all the way babeeeey.

"- Any attempts at discussion in good faith are shut down immediately. People attempting to truly discuss in good faith are met with hostility, mocking, and often hate-filled harassment, moreso the less obsequious they are with their disagreements."

Sure, but keep in mind that the person I'm responding to casually said that "No one is TME". That's not the path toward good faith discussion, because that gives off "I am only here to dismiss YOUR life experiences" vibes.

"- We can understand this as more a semantics argument than a literal one. In this community, 'Man' and 'Woman' are seen as direct opposites. 'Trans Man' and 'Trans Woman' are also seen as direct opposites, rather than as two sides of the same binary coin. If Trans Women have one experience, then Trans Men must either have the same experience (due to being Trans) or one directly opposite (due to being Man), depending on what the argument is. This extends out to transfems and transmascs. "Transandrophobia" as a word is "implying that misandry is real, because it uses the same formula as Transmisogyny, which is Trans(phobia) + Misogyny"."

I don't know how we would explain the existence of entire hate forums like "r/femaledatingstrategies" if misandry wasn't real. That forum is right-wing funded, but it still attracts real people who on the daily say dehumanizing crap about men.

Just because women structurally have less power in society, doesn't mean that men can't be targets of hateful ideologies aimed at men or victims of organized anti-male harassment campaigns.

I personally don't believe that right-wingers are good human rights advocates towards anybody. So having the language to describe what happens when people have their lives ruined for who they are matters.

"- We can divorce Velvet's paragraph about TAA/TAE being unusable because no one will read it in good faith from the statement "No one is TME". These are not a direct comparison. TAA/TAE is unusable because it will not be read in good faith, much as TMA/TME can only be used because it so often is read in good faith (in this community). No one is TME because no one is exempt from any sort of oppression- this doesn't mean people can't face challenges unique to their demographic, but any systemic oppression will dig its roots into everyone alive within that system, and it affects everyone and everything within that system. Similarly, no one is transandrophobia-exempt."

But that's not what Velvet communicated. What you are describing is what the anon ask communicated "no one is 100%" exempt from transmisogyny. But Velvet responded with the one-liner "No one is TME". Yeah, no one is TME just like no one is immune from being misgendered. But the word "transmisogyny-exempt", in normal conversation, refers to people who aren't the intended targets of transmisogyny. Just as misgendering isn't "cisgender people's discourse" because cis people experience it, but not to a relevant extent.

"So when facing a community of people who wholeheartedly believe"

My point is that "facing" that community is pointless. The community you are talking about is simply throwing transmascs under the bus to have some kind of, any kind of trans rights discourse at all that is sensitive to the validity of trans gender identities (usually don't use that term "gender identity" because gender modality is more useful, but I'm trying to explain this in a general sense).

Transfem-only discourse exists to avoid outcomes like: transmasc-only discourse, where the true intersection of misogyny and transphobia is assumed to be transandrophobia and TERFs have easy pickings convincing everyone that trans women are *not really* women and *don't really* experience misogyny, but merely homophobia. And the outcome that both transmascs and transfems are served at the same time-- would be really nice, but obviously then right-wing groups have easy pickings because the idea that transmascs and transfems have problems of equal value implies that something is fundamentally wrong with how people conceive of the kyriarchy (or whatever the kids call it, the oppressive stack or whatever).

"Velvet chooses to use her words to make a point, so that people on the fringes of this community can see how circular their logic is, how their arguments don't make sense or hold up."

This isn't really a political battle that can be won by having good arguments.

I have excellent arguments that disprove the existence of god -- doesn't really work on people who want to believe. I can prove that human-made climate change exists without using inaccessible science! It does me no good.

The political field changes when people create a new reality, a new set of circumstances. They simply assert what they believe, act friendly toward others, organize and make sure they can robustly explain their points. Outsiders see that and simply jump on for the ride.

One-liners like "No one is TME" don't prove circular logic, they're one-liners. Maybe Velvet is reaching out to a demographic that knows what TME means but has their minds blown by "No one is TME". I don't know. But to me, as an outsider, it just felt like a troll's attempt at replacing one set of concerns with another.

"This can help some who are not totally taken in by the community to question some of their own burgeoning beliefs, and it provides a show of allyship to trans men and transmascs currently struggling in the thick of having their experiences and realities mocked and belittled."

I don't know enough & will take your word for it.

To me it seemed like it cultivates transmascs that think their cause is more real, more superior and who disregard conversations about transmisogyny entirely. It actually reminded me of how feminism became a dirty word in MRA circles. That's not me calling anyone here an MRA, just noting a similar rhetoric. Don't see why that similar rhetoric wouldn't have similar outcomes.

"Sometimes that takes the form of 'poking the bear'. I don't think that's what this answer in particular was- again, it was an argument of semantics,"

A one-liner is not an argument of semantics.

"addressing a community that often relies on semantics to tell other trans people that they aren't allowed their own language, or that their language isn't good enough. But sometimes, yes, poking the bear happens."

Velvet literally described the urge to "piss people off" on purpose. That's taking joy in poking the bear.

"No, it's probably not going to accomplish much other than providing cathartic relief for the one doing the poking."

No, it was a semantic argument to win over outsiders in the community *playful snort*.

"Given that 'the bear' is already awake and doing active damage, though, I don't think the poking is the thing to focus on here."

Two things:

Poking does become relevant when it makes you seem like the aggressor to outsiders that are new to the conversation

The bear isn't your main problem. It got chased into the forest by TERFs and by an unholy alliance between progressives and politicians not willing to fund societal improvement, just "minority issues". The bear is forced to choose between (1) the torches of TERFs that will burn you and the bear down (2) the torches of politicians that will burn the forest the moment it becomes inconvenient and (3) you, who are holding a torch not because you're burning the forest, but because the panicked bear mauled your friends and you feel it has become your enemy.

A simple kyriarchic narrative allows politicians to only spend money on the "intersections" of marginalizations. Provide free language learning to immigrants to Sweden? Sure, but only if they have ADHD. Provide social security in South Africa? Sure, but only if they have AIDS.

This results in South Africans injecting infected needles to give themselves AIDS to receive government support.

In the trans community, it leads to people reinforcing that transmisogyny is far more relevant that transandrophobia. Because the alternative is (1) that tme / transmisogyny is not a uniquely transfem problem, that there are no uniquely transfem problems so funding should go to transmascs (2) once funding goes to transmascs, transandrophobia becomes theoretically conceptualized as the intersection of misogyny and transphobia, which then implies that gender identity (gender modality) is not a relevant struggle (3) once that happens, transphobia itself becomes de-emphasized, getting rolled into homophobia or whatever (4) community resources for trans people disappear, as if by magic, because we now have to reinvent a rhetoric that highlights our higher rates of vulnerability.

And as mentioned before, if we try to argue that both issues (transandrophobia & transmisogyny) matter equally, we reinforce the idea that the victims of the kyriarchy aren't easily determinable. Which means that targets for funding aren't easily determinable.

So fighting the bear makes no sense, unless currently being directly attacked by it. Keep your distance and focus on the fire.

Maybe we can't directly turn off the flames right now, but it matters more to transmasc people to connect with them over their problems, than to "heroically" fight a community that brushes those problems under the rug. And if you can address transmisogyny at the same time? People will eventually catch on that you are the most reasonable person in the room and we can all figure out what to do about the flames together.

"Finally, we are building a strong case for transandrophobia. And Velvet isn't saying that transmisogyny doesn't exist, much less building a case against it."

Great. "No one is TME" sounds like casting aspersions on transmisogyny though and that is all I'm pointing out.

"I hope this was able to do that and provide some context, and if not, I hope I at least approached it in a way to make it sufficiently clear that I'm in no way trying to be rude or aggressive or to discount your perception of the conversation as someone who it seems isn't in these particular trenches (which is a good thing, mind you, and doesn't mean you aren't in more reasonable trenches just down the road)."

Thanks for taking care in the conversation. I appreciate it. :)

"cis men are tme" - I think I have some problems with this idea but I'm not sure they make sense. I don't think cis men as a whole are 100% tme bc. I went to an extremely conservative religious high school. In places like that, being anything close to feminine as a man, even if you were 100% cishet, was absolutely unacceptable. Like you would be bullied by your peers and staff for just. DARING to use a pink pen in class. If that isn't a form of transmisogyny that affects cis men, idk what is.

No one is TME.

[deusluxuria]

( NSFW text )

Overheard at The Steel Ball Run

gyro: y'know, johnny, you'd probably cry a lot less if you just jerked off more

johnny: what

diego: i bet you jerk off as often as johnny cries

gyro: .....i cry a fair amount

[hotshotsxyz]

even though we changed (i'm still here with you)

(buddie) (1.7k) (read it on ao3)

this is pure clowning, based on this morning's speculation. went ahead and skipped 5b spec and went straight for 6a. was supposed to be funny, actually ended up just being soft

“So,” Maddie starts, swirling her wine casually as she fixes Buck with a knowing look he’s not sure he likes, “Any luck with the apartment hunt?”

And really, Buck loves his sister, he does, but he knows exactly where this conversation is going, and he’s pretty sure he’d rather do another sewage rescue that have it again. “Nope,” he says, “still looking.”

Maddie hums. “Market must be crazy, huh?”

“Tough to find a decent place on a firefighter’s salary,” Buck agrees, hopeful she’ll leave it at that.

“Not so tough on two firefighters’ salaries, though,” she says, oh so innocently.

Buck heaves a sigh and fixes Maddie with his best unimpressed expression. “Real subtle,” he says.

“Come on, Buck, it’s been months! You’ve got to be tired of sleeping on Eddie’s couch.”

Buck hums noncommittally.

Maddie narrows her eyes at him. “Unless…”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Eddie’s got a pull out, it’s fine,” he says, which is true, just… not overly relevant. Since, you know, he hasn’t slept on it once since he moved in with the Diazes.

“Don’t you miss having your own space?” she pushes.

He really, really doesn’t, and he says as much, realizing his mistake only when Maddie begins to grin like the cheshire cat.

“I knew it!” she exclaims. “You’re not even looking, are you?”

“And to think,” Buck jokingly deflects, “we were having such a nice lunch. Why did I agree to come over again?”

Maddie shoves his shoulder lightly and laughs. “Because deep down, you know you need someone to talk some sense into you.”

“It’s fine, Maddie!” Buck says, throwing his hands up, careful not to spill his own glass. “I get a place to stay, Eddie gets a hand with Chris, and we both get a break on rent. It’s a win win win.”

“Right, sure,” Maddie says, sipping her wine. “And I’m sure it’s not a problem when you want to bring a date home.”

Oh Buck does not like where this is going, not one bit. “I haven’t really been dating,” he says reluctantly.

The noise Maddie makes is probably supposed to sound sympathetic, but mostly it comes across teasing. “It has only been, what, four months since the split with Taylor?”

“Five,” Buck mumbles.

“And you’ve been so broken up about it,” Maddie continues, a gleam in her eye.

“Whatever you’re going to say, just say it.”

The innocent shrug is really too much. “Just seems like you’d want to start putting yourself out there again,” Maddie says. She takes another sip of her wine. “This really is good, tell Eddie thank you for me.”

“I– what?” Buck sputters. “Eddie didn’t–”

“Please, this is what he brings Athena every time she throws a dinner party,” she says smugly.

“Yeah, okay, whatever, Eddie has better taste in wine than me, are you happy?”

Maddie grins, and this expression, Buck knows. It’s the one she wears at poker night, when she’s about to clean every single one of them out and knows there’s not a thing anyone can do about it. “I will be,” she says lightly, “when you also admit you’re in love with him.”

Buck chokes on his wine. “What the fuck, Maddie!” he coughs.

She chuckles and hands him a napkin. “Oh come on, what was it you said before?” She lowers her voice into a mocking imitation of his. “At least when I date someone, I do it for real.”

A flush crawls up the back of Buck’s neck, and he curses the wine. “Me and Eddie are not– we’re not dating!” he protests.

“Oh no,” Maddie agrees, nodding, “No, you’re married.”

“We’re not–”

The expression on Maddie’s face says it all. “You know I dropped Jee off with Carla and Christopher the other day. Didn’t see any blankets on the couch.”

“I–”

“And Howie definitely overheard you two talking about parent-teacher conferences,” she continues.

“Maddie.”

“Evan,” she mocks.

Buck sticks out his tongue.

“Real mature,” she laughs, then her expression sobers. “I just want you to be happy,” she says.

“I am happy,” Buck replies, and he means it.

Maddie smiles softly. “I know,” she says. “That’s why you should tell him.”

Buck sighs and tips his head back against the sofa. “Things are good,” he says, abandoning all pretext. It’s not like he was fooling Maddie anyway. “I’m not going to mess that up.”

Maddie takes his hand in hers and squeezes. “You’re right, you’re not, because he loves you too,” she says.

“You don’t know that.”

“Buck,” she says flatly, “everyone who’s ever met either of you knows that.”

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite.

“Answer one question,” Maddie says, “and then I’ll drop it, I swear.”

He sits up and chews on his lip. “Fine, one.”

“When’s the last time Eddie asked you how the apartment hunt was going?”

///

Buck gets home just in time to start dinner, and isn’t that a thought? He’d told Maddie, years ago, that he wasn’t really a guest in Eddie’s house, but these days it hardly even feels right to refer to it as just Eddie’s. The stack of postcards Maddie gave him, one of the only things he’d saved from the fire, sits in a drawer next to the couch. His shoes are in a pile with Eddie’s and Christopher’s, and there are three toothbrushes in a cup in the bathroom. His clothes and Eddie’s are so mixed together at this point, there’s no telling who bought what. And on the fridge, there’s a photo of all of them together, held up by the three person-shaped magnets they’ve managed to avoid losing.

The thing is, Maddie’s right. Buck’s known it for a long time now, even if he’d only recently allowed himself to acknowledge it. But what he has right now? It’s too good to risk.

He thinks back to that first night, when he was exhausted and sweaty and covered in soot, and Eddie held him anyway. He’d tucked his face into Eddie’s neck and breathed, desperate to smell anything other than smoke.

The familiar scent had loosened something in his chest, reminded him that he knows exactly what it feels like to watch his world fall apart, and that losing the loft was so laughably far from that, it barely even registered as another trauma.

“Come home,” Eddie’d whispered into Buck’s hair.

Without a second’s hesitation, Buck had agreed.

He pulls a stock pot and a frying pan from the cabinet and several cans from the pantry. He’d picked up an extra shift on Thursday, and he knows Eddie’s got at least three appointments that day. They’re both going to be at the school all day Friday for the fundraiser, so– today’s a good day to make something that will have leftovers.

Buck hums as he roots around in the drawer for spices, and frowns a little when he realizes they’re out of mustard powder. He makes a mental note to add it to the shopping list, and grabs onion powder instead.

Eddie’d driven that night. He’d let go of Buck only long enough to bundle him in the passenger seat of his truck, then climbed in the driver’s side and gripped the wheel one handed. His right hand had drifted to Buck’s knee and stayed there, all the way home.

Even then, the part of Buck that wasn’t shell-shocked from experiencing the other side of a fire knew that something had changed. That things had shifted between them, had been shifting between them since the moment they’d crashed back together after months at arm's length.

The ground beef sizzles when it touches the pan. Buck breaks it up with a spatula and watches it slowly brown, stirring and turning so it’s even on all sides. He glances at the time on the microwaves and smiles. The kitchen is fragrant, and in the next few minutes it’ll be filled with talking and laughing and the two most important people in the world to him.

Sure enough, Buck hears the tell-tale jangle of keys not longer after, followed by the squeak of door hinges. Christopher’s talking a mile a minute, and already Buck can tell that tonight is going to be his favorite kind of night.

“Something smells good,” Eddie calls from the hall.

“That’s because you’re not the one cooking,” Christopher jokes.

“I’m wounded,” Eddie says dramatically, and Buck can just picture the way he’s pressing a hand to his chest.

Christopher laughs, and as the sound gets closer to the kitchen, Buck turns the chili down to a simmer and allows his gaze to wander to the open door frame.

“Hey, Buck!” he says cheerfully. He gives him a quick, one-armed hug, and snags a slice of red bell pepper from the counter as soon as he’s done.

“He gets that from you, you know,” Eddie murmurs fondly.

Buck ruffles Christopher’s hair. “Go wash up, it’ll be done in twenty.”

With a good natured eye roll, Christopher stuffs the bell pepper in his mouth and heads towards his room.

Eddie snorts. “That too,” he says. He’s leaning against the door frame, but when he catches Buck’s eye he pushes off it and holds out his hand. “Here, you said we were almost out.”

It’s a jar of mustard powder, and it kind of makes Buck want to throw caution to the wind and kiss Eddie in the middle of their kitchen.

“Thanks,” he says instead, and it’s probably too soft, too telling. Then again, if Eddie hasn’t picked up on everything he hasn’t been saying in the past three months, maybe he never will.

Or maybe, a voice that sounds a whole lot like Maddie says, he’s just as scared as you.

“Just for tonight,” Eddie’d said all those months ago, pulling Buck into the bedroom by the wrist. “We can make up the couch tomorrow.”

They never did.

Instead, every night they fall asleep facing each other, and every morning, they wake tangled together.

When’s the last time Eddie asked you how the apartment hunt was going? Maddie had asked. Not once, he realizes. And Buck had never actually started looking.

“Oh,” Buck says quietly, holding the spice jar loosely in his fingers.

“Oh?” Eddie asks.

“I get it now,” Buck says. He takes a single step forwards and he’s in Eddie’s space, close enough to feel the puff of Eddie’s breath against his lips.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. His eyes fall for a moment to Buck’s lips, then return to his eyes. “It’s about time,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Buck whispers. “I think you’re right.”