#boy jerry is still dead though

[kmesons]

@femslashfortnight day 5: near death experience (campfire confession). an alternate ending to abstinence camp, because girl jeri deserved better.

also, not directly related to the prompt, but here's an extra doodle of the immediate aftermath! they have each other and that's all that matters

[koiiiji]

threats

summary ; no-one dead au, Gapryong love his kids, him and Baekho thinks their youngster have crush on Jinyong’s daughter, while he being delulu and calls their sons wolves (Jinyong secretly cheering for Jake)

tw ; none, pure fluff and actually happy Kim family

pairing(?) ; kid!jake kim x kid!reader(?)

The celebration at Gapryong Kim's mansion was in full swing,the occasion was significant - his birthday - the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the warm glow of camaraderie. The adults, slightly tipsy and buoyed by nostalgia, sat around the large dining table and in clusters throughout the spacious living room.

Jake, with his boundless energy and cheerful demeanor, was busy running around the garden, making jokes and laughing. Jerry, more reserved and stoic, watched his friends with a calm smile, while you, being a bit moody yet generally happy, played nearby. Gitae, Gapryon’s oldest son, sat on the steps, brooding and occasionally rolling his eyes at the younger kids' antics. He was in that difficult transitional age where he felt misunderstood and often annoyed by everyone around him.

Inside the mansion, Gapryon and his right-hand men, Jinyong Park, Baekho Kwon, and other members of Gapryong's fist enjoyed the party. Gapryong, a fierce yet caring leader, laughed heartily with his friends, while Jinyong kept an eye on whole buster - trying to mesmorise warm moments with his dearest friends.

Suddenly, the door to the grand room burst open, and you ran in, tears streaming down your face. The room fell silent as you launched yourself into your father’s arms, sobbing.

"Daddy! Daddy!" - you cried, clutching Jinyong’s shirt tightly. - "Jake is threatening my life!"

The adults in the room exchanged confused glances. Jake, the sunny and optimistic boy, threatening someone? It seemed impossible. Moments later, Jake stumbled into the room, his face flushed and red as a tomato. His heart raced with a mix of embarrassment and panic, as he feared what you might say. - "I'm not threatening her life!" he exclaimed, clearly flustered. The room erupted in confusion at the sight of the two young children so passionately arguing. Jinyong petted your hair gently, trying to soothe you.

"What happened, sweetheart?" - he asked softly. You wiped your tears and took a deep breath, ready to present your case. - "Daddy, Jake said he wants to MARRY ME! Can you imagine?!"

Laughter filled the room as Jake, embarrassed and blushing even harder, protested, - "No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" - you insisted, sticking your tongue out and pointing at him with your finger. But Jake kept arguing and room filled with child's screams of "Yes" and "No"

"I'm gonna marry only my daddy!"

Gapryong, who loved you as his own child, chuckled and decided to tease you a bit. - "But doesn’t your dad already marry your mother, huh?"

You froze, shock and confusion crossing your face as you turned to look at your father, your eyes welling up with fresh tears. Gripping his shirt tightly, you asked, - "Daddy?... Is that true?" - Jinyong, trying to contain his laughter, nodded. - "You know, baby, your mother still needs a husband, right?"

"Traitor! Daddy is a traitor!" you declared dramatically, eliciting more laughter from the adults. Jake watched you, feeling a pang of resentment and a deeper, unspoken feeling. He had a childish crush on you, and though he didn't fully understand it, he knew he liked you a lot. The idea of marrying you seemed natural to him, even if he was too young to grasp its full meaning. Determined and full of childish resolve, you slid off your father’s lap and marched over to Gapryong. "Then... then..." - you stammered, trying to form your next plan. Gapryong, enjoying the moment, leaned down to your level. - "Then what, little one?" - he asked with a warm smile.

"Then I'll marry... Uncle Gapryong!" - you announced, much to the amusement of everyone present. Gapryong laughed heartily and scooped you up in his arms. - "Well, I'm married as well! And I’m afraid I’m too old for you, sweetheart."

As everyone in the room tried to hold back their laughter, you pouted, realizing your grand declaration might not work out as planned. But the genuine affection and warmth from your family made the moment one to remember. Jake, still blushing, sighed with relief and muttered to his father, - "See? I wasn't threatening her life..."

The room erupted in laughter again, the adults and children alike sharing in the joy and absurdity of the moment, making it a birthday celebration to remember. Just as the laughter began to die down, Gapryong, still smiling, said, - "How about Jake anyway, huh?"

You shook your head vigorously. - "NO!! Uncle Gapryong, don't you understand that Jake spends all his time with Jerry! And they're always hugging!" - You crossed your arms defiantly, misinterpreting their fights as affectionate embraces - "I don't want my husband to hug someone else!" - More laughter filled the room, but you remained serious, big tears still streaming down your cheeks. You jumped off Gapryong's lap, desperately looking for a solution. Your eyes landed on Gitae, who was brooding in the corner of the room. With sudden determination, you ran to him and clung to his neck.

"Then I'm gonna marry brother Gitae!" - you announced with a bright, triumphant smile. It seems that a clear vein of discontent appeared on your father’s forehead and with an innocent smile the glass in his bare hand burst with a crash.

Gitae, caught off guard and visibly annoyed, was about to complain, but you turned to him with the most serious face, as if you were already an adult. - "One wrong word and I will say that I saw how you smoked this morning." - Gitae swallowed hard. It wasn't that he was scared of his mother's reprimands about smoking, but he simply nodded, not wanting to cause more drama. - "Whatever, kid," - he muttered.

Jinyong, not a big fan of Gitae, still with his eyes closed and that innocent smile said, - "I will apply for divorce next morning, hun. Come back to daddy."

bonus :

The adults had announced their departure a thousand times, each attempt to leave thwarted by another round of drinks, another shared memory, or another joke that sent the room into peals of laughter. Gapryong, at the center of it all, held court with his booming laugh and sharp wit, Jinyong Park matched his pace drink for drink. The room was alive with stories of old scars and forgotten battles, of triumphs and losses, each tale punctuated by hearty toasts and the occasional rowdy song.

In the midst of the adults' revelry, the children, worn out from their own antics, began to succumb to sleep. Jake had run out of steam, Jerry yawned widely before finally giving in, and you, found your eyelids growing heavier by the minute.

As the night deepened, the adults continued to assure one another that they really should be heading home, only to be drawn back into another round of drinks or another hilarious story.

Unbeknownst to the adults, the three of you sneaked out of main room to try to distract yourselves from the impending sleep and fatigue, and decided to play hide and seek. As the hours ticked by, the party showed no signs of waning. But eventually, the night began to wind down, and the adults started to gather their belongings, preparing to leave.

"Alright, everyone, I think it's really time to go now," - Gapryong announced, albeit somewhat reluctantly. His words were met with nods and murmurs of agreement, though none made a move to actually stand up. Jinyong glanced around, suddenly realizing that the children were nowhere in sight. - "Where are the kids?" - he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. The adults exchanged worried glances and began to search the mansion, calling out names and checking every room. The once noisy and cheerful group was now a flurry of anxious activity, peering behind furniture, checking under tables, and opening every door they came across.

"Jake? Jerry? Where are you?" - Gapryong called out, his deep voice echoing through the halls.

It was Baekho Kwon who finally stumbled upon the scene. Opening the closet door, he found the three of you nestled among the fallen clothes, fast asleep. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before calling out to the others.

"I found them! They're in here!"

The adults rushed over, relief washing over their faces as they took in the adorable sight. You, still peacefully asleep on Jake's hand, throwing your head back and drooling on his arm, while he drooling on your shoulder and his arm protectively around you, Jerry's head rested gently on your lap, his calm, steady breathing a testament to the deep sleep only children could achieve. Gapryong smiled warmly at the sight. - "Well, would you look at that," - he said softly, his voice full of affection. - "Looks like they had their own little adventure."

Jinyong knelt down, carefully scooping you into his arms, not wanting to disturb your sleep. - "Come on, sweetheart," - he whispered, - "let's get you home."

Gapryong and Baekho followed suit, gently lifting Jake and Jerry, who barely stirred, their exhaustion too great to be roused by the movement.

loool i love annoyed daddy Jinyoung so much!!

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: Family Dinner

Summary: two weeks after inviting Benny into your bed, you begin to question the status of your relationship. You eat dinner at your uncles house.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Warning: implications of family violence/DV, cursing, angst feels, and, brief mentions of religion (a theme that will pop up occasionally, if you don’t like it don’t read it)

A/N: Please excuse grammar mistakes. My tired eyes can only catch so much 😂 I’m gonna be diving into some heavy topics now. Though I’ll try my best to keep the lighthearted fluff and fun from the beginning.

You aren’t sure what the status of your relationship is. If you asked anyone in the Club they’d all laugh and say “You Benny’s girl, Sunshine, why’d you ask a stupid question like that”

If you asked Kathy she’d just snort and look you up and down, “Oh Sunny, you’re hopeless, I mean really? Ain’t it obvious by now”

Your response to both cases would be to sigh. Lots and lots of sighing.

It’s been two weeks of Benny showin’ up to your uncle's diner to pick you up from your late night shifts and whisk you to the bar.

Two weeks of you and Benny curling up on your bed in the early morning, eyes fluttering shut as you listen to his heart thump.

Two weeks of nothing.

And it's driving you mad.

He doesn’t verbalize what you are to him. Every time you think about asking your tongue freezes. Muscles tensing as your brain struggles to put your thoughts into words.

You squeeze the wet cloth in your hand, mind warring with itself. With a grunt you presume your cleaning activity for the night. You’d scrub all the empty tables raw. Your knuckles and wrists aching.

Your uncle Harold let you work the late shift at your request. He’d been reluctant to let you work the dead shift for safety concerns but after a long discussion of action plans in case of an emergency, he’d conceded.

The diner is quiet, the low hum of the overhead light flickers and you make a note to remind your uncle to get it fixed. You take a 5th glance out the window hoping to find Benny’s motorcycle parked out front, but he isn't there. You frown and turn away again, you know you would have heard him before you saw him, but he’s an hour late and it feels unusual not to see him waiting for you.

“Lookin’ for your man?” Jerry croaks from the bar counter hunched over a cappuccino, his white beard ruffled from insistent scratching. He comes in every Saturday night at 11:30 and stays just past midnight.

You throw the wet rag into a bucket, “I guess I am, Mr. Spore”

You continue your thoughts allowed, “I don’t even know what we are”

You grab the bucket with your cleaning supplies and lug it to the kitchen. You open the storage room to your left and place the dirty rags into the laundry bin-another task for you to remind your uncle to do. You busy yourself with cleaning the bucket in the storage room sink, a quirk of your lips as you hear Jerry chide you in the background , “Jerry, I beg you, I’m tired of formalities”

You can hear him pick up his cup, sipping his hot cappuccino. It would be the last one he drank before he would place money on the counter and wish you a good and safe night. “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at ya.”

You hum idly. Completely aware of how Benny looks at you. It’s almost suffocating and endearing.

You take a quick glance at the kitchen sink, half the dishes have been washed. You call out for Cole, the dish boy, noticing that the back door is open you walk up and peer outside.

He’s leaning up against the wall, taking slow drags from his cigarette. He turns his head and nods at you, “Is Jerry still here?”

“Yeah, he’s almost done,” Cole nods at your statement, “alright, give me another 20 and I’ll finish washing up”

You respond with a nod and turn away. Leaving him to his break. You pop open the kitchen door and enter back into the dining section, “I don't know Mr.-Jerry, we haven’t made anything finale?” you end it as a question, unsure of what words to describe your relationship with Benny.

You slide onto a stool next to Jerry, “It just feels weird, not knowing.”

You turn to look at him, resting your head on your palms.

Jerry waves his hand in the air, discarding your confusion. He gives you a dry huff, “He’s a man, it's not the words you should look at but his actions”

His grey eyes look at you with fatherly affection, you recognize it as the same look your uncle gives you whenever he sees you come into his view. You swallow thickly and smile appreciatively, “I’ll keep that in mind, Jerry”

Jerry moves to dig into his jacket pocket, his stiff aching joints slow him down but he doesn’t seem to be in a rush, “I’ve lived a long time”

He pulls out some change and dollars, he places them down one by one, “No man would sit patiently outside or inside a diner for hours for some lady who means nothin’, he’s your man alright”

He gives you a soft pat on the shoulder and then ruffles the top of your head, “Don’t overthink what hasn’t been said and start thinking about what’s been done”

He slips out of the barstool, and makes his way to the exit. He mummers a good night and tells you to be safe before stepping into the night.

He has left you with more wisdom than you thought you’d get. You shake your head and drag your hand over your face.

Benny is nowhere in sight when you lock up the diner. He must be busy or somethin’, you think.

You take to sitting on the steps leading to the diner doors and you wait, He has to come at some point. You’ve wrapped your arms around your legs, head resting on your forearms when you hear a rumble.

You look up, heart leaping and a smile on your face, and-

Your uncles old truck had pulled up to the diner, he waves at you from the drivers seat beckoning you to walk over. It takes you a couple minutes of looking past your uncles truck, peering into the night hoping for any sign that Benny would be there. But he never comes. Giving up on waiting, you get up and walk towards your uncle.

He steps out once you’re close enough, opening his arms for a hug. It doesn’t take much for you to accept his offer and you jump into it. You mumble a hi.

Your uncle pats your back, “Gina and I were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us”

You pull away and look up at him with surprised brows, “it’s 1:30 in the morning.”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “the ole lady insisted on putting off dinner till you got off work”

You can’t help the smile on your face, “Well, if the ole lady insists then we should not disappoint “

—

Your uncle pulls up to a washed out 2 story brick house. You can see a feminine figure waiting out on the porch.

You hop out of the truck to run up to Gina, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I hear I’m being summoned for dinner”

She hums, “I miss having a gal to talk to over a meal, this lump is no good at conversation”

She jerks her chin at your uncle, you can hear him scoff and mumble about how he has no interest in knowing the difference of a macron and macaroon. A heated discussion for sure, you think with amusement.

He herds the two of you inside the house his large looming figure barely fitting through the door. He stands at a whopping 6’4, his large shoulders and fit build look out of place in the tiny two story home his wife had inherited from her parents. Despite looking out of place, he melded into the environment with ease. Traces of his masculine personality being scattered through the home with his baseball card collections and hunting gear that he uses during winter camping trips with his buddies.

The atmosphere is different from your ma’s home. There is a lightness in the air and a buzzing feeling in your chest. You think it’s the feeling of love and care that your uncle and aunt have put into the home. You wonder if you’d ever be able to replicate that in your own home.

You pull out a chair once in the dining room, and sink into the dark wood, a vibrant red cushion softening the seat. Gina has set the table with your favorites, homemade mashed potatoes, buttered corn on a cob, and pork chops.

You smile gratefully at your aunt, her dark hair is slowly graying but she looks more youthful with how her eyes gleam lovingly at you. “I appreciate the thought you put into this, Gigi”

She gives you her best smile reminding you that she’d always take care of you if you ever let her. You shake your head at her, fondly remembering how she’d often jump at the chance to provide you with your wants and needs as a teen. You used to think she did it because of your special circumstances but no, that’s just Gina’s loving heart. Bleeding out for anybody who needs it.

Your uncle sits at the end of the table, he’s holding his hand out and looks at you, “Under this roof, we give thanks to the LORD”.

He reminds you gently, softly prodding to see if you’ll accept and join. You glance at his palm, the rough calluses stand out against the soft white lace table cloth, his other hand is occupied with Gina’s much smaller hand and you notice that she too is holding up her hand to you, she encourages you softly with a tilt of her head.

You slowly slip your hand into theirs. You close your eyes and bow your head. There’s a moment of silence before Gina kicks Harold who coughs with a start. He begins with his list of things he is grateful for. You are the first thing on his list. Your heart warms and everything else slips away. You had forgotten what it had felt like to be a part of a family. And you almost want to chide yourself for taking everything for granted as a teenager.

A gentle tug pulls you from your thoughts, “What about you?” he asks.

You look up and find both of them staring at you, “Oh I don’t know..”

You trail off in thought. Your aunt gives you an encouraging smile and lifts one finger, “Just name one thing you are most thankful for”

Your shoulders slump and you think, “I guess I’m thankful to be back, thankful for the amazing birthday I had last Saturday and I’m thankful for meeting…some new people..”

You’ve met a lot of new people these last two weeks. But there’s only one person you’re thinking about. You feel your cheeks heating as you think of his blue eyes peering into your soul.

Your aunt nods excitedly, “There ya go, there’s always somethin’ to give thanks for.”

Your uncle is quiet but he’s got a smile on his bearded lips, “Now we dig in”

As dinner progresses conversation picks up, you give them updates on the garden your ma used to tend to. You tell them that you’ve gotten better at keeping plants alive. Gina laughs because she remembers how heartbroken you used to get when every plant your ma would let you take care of; died.

Your uncle jokes that maybe you’re having a honeymoon period with the plants and it’ll be over before you know it. You shake your hands in the air to try and dispel the curse he just put on you. “No, it can never be over! They will all survive,” you laugh.

By the time dinner ends you offer to help clean up but Gina waves you off. Telling you to sit and enjoy dessert. She brings out her banana cream cookies. Gina tells you that she’s finally perfected the recipe after many failed attempts. Your uncle huffs and points to himself, “at my expense”

She hushes him, “you insisted”

Playful conversation continues. You’re slowly making your way through your first cookie, enjoying the company and the new updates they give you.

You’re on your third cookie when Gina slaps Harold’s arm and sends him a look. You watch the silent showdown that your uncle is losing.

She hesitates, “We-uh..we noticed you been staying at your mom's house more often”

Her voice is gentle, her light brown eyes search your face.

You give her a nod not sure where the conversation is going. “We” She paused, her eyes flickering to your uncle, “have…some concerns”

You laugh, “What kind of concerns?”

You aren’t sure why they’d be concerned, it was your uncle who had encouraged you to start thinking about making your ma’s old home yours. He had been taking care of it for you until you were ready to take on the responsibility. Gina has helped maintain the flower bed out front- a mix of colored roses, daisies, and lilies- and the garden at the back of the property.

While you were away they had even renovated the house to have new appliances and updated the wallpapers and flooring.

You propped your arms on the table, leaning forward to look at them, “I promise I'm doing fine, still unpacking but I’m gettin’ around to gettin’ settled”

You try to reassure them but it doesn’t seem to work. You can tell Gina is getting uncomfortable the longer the conversation goes on. Your eyes travel to your uncle to see him slowly chewing on a cookie. He’s avoiding eye contact and his hulking figure is trying to sink into the seat.

“Wh-Why-What’s goin’ on with you two?” You blurt out.

Your uncle clears his throat, picking up a napkin and wiping his beard and lips, “Someone brought it to m-our attention that a fella has been walking in and out the house”

You aren’t sure if your heart has stopped or if it’s beating too fast, “This about Benny?”

Gina leans forward, her light blue dress ruffles as she clears the table. Glasses clink as she stacks plates and slowly exits from what is sure to be a disaster.

Your uncle’s face is unsure, “Yes and no”

You lean back in your seat, dessert forgotten. A heavy weight has dropped to the pit of your stomach, “Then what is it about?”

It’s silent for a minute. The only sounds being your aunt cleaning dishes. The soft glow of the dining room light feels too bright and oppressive.

“Look, I’ll keep this short; that boy ain’t good for yah” He’s placed his hands over the table, his palms facing the white lace table cloth, “It’s bad enough, you refuse to talk about your time away and now ya got a vandal in your ma’s home, it-”

You cut him off, “You don’t know him and you promised me I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to”

Your uncle's voice is calm and he tries to clean up the can of worms he’s opened up, “I know enough about his type, your ma-”

“Don’t,” you warn, “Don’t say it”

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, peanut,” He sighs in resignation, your childhood nickname slipping from his lips, “You been through too much to end up with-”

“With what? Scum?? Ain’t that what Gina’s pops said about you?” You bark back, “You know nothin’ ‘bout Benny”

He ignores your statement, his heart aching.

“I know enough,” he speaks over your loud scoff, “Boy’s got a temper worse than a bull, you don-”

His implication squeezes your heart, “He’s not him”

“Your ma was so sure of your pa, look how that ended up” your uncle asserts, he remains seated, his brown eyes urging you to listen, “I’m just tryin’ to protect ya”

Before anything happens to ya goes unsaid.

His comment stabs you in the heart. You push the echos of distant screaming. It doesn’t belong in the light, you blink rapidly warding away the memories.

He continues as you keep silent, “I already told him to stop comin'-”

“You did what?” Your frustration starts to build, “It’s not your place to go around tellin’ people they can’t be around me”

Your uncle looks away, his fingers fidgeting with the tablecloth, “He’s no good, you met him once and you already got him in ya bed-” Your uncle shakes his head not wanting to go down that road, “I’m just sayin’ you don’t know enough about him.”

You shake your head, refusing to let the idea of Benny ever gettin’ violent with you be a possibility. “He isn’t, he wouldn’t..”

The doubt is sinking in and you hate it. You hate not knowing if you’ve really met a good man. Or if you’re simply blinded.

“You gotta understand peanut, you take off one day and don’t talk to us for 4 years, 4 years,” He repeats the last bit, his eyes sunken in, worries and stress embedded into his face, “then you show up outta the blue, no warning, bruised up with tears in your eyes, you refuse to talk about why you left and why you came back or what happened, and now you got a damn Vandal at your hip…”

His mouth opens and closes, he’s got no words other than, “We have a right to be concerned ‘bout ya”

He fidgets in his seat, “I think it’s best you focus on healin, seein’ a doctor or somethin’ you know, talk to us, we’re alway-��

“No” You bite out. “I’m fine.”

Your uncle laughs, “Fine? Are you really fine? Peanut, you’re spiraling out of control, we-”

His voice drops and he hangs his head, “I promised your ma, I’d take care of ya, if I say you can’t see this boy-”

“9 years,” you whisper. Your mouth is dry, “I’ve been spiraling for the last 9 years and you’re just now noticing”

His mouth opens and closes, he’s losing control of the situation but then again what else did he expect, “Peanut, plea-”

You shake your head, tears swelling, “It takes you 9 FUCKING YEARS,” Your voice rises, the little girl in you screaming at the top of her lungs, “9 YEARS OF MASKING MY PAIN AND BEING A GOOD GIRL, 9 YEARS OF HIDING BEHIND OBEDIENCE AND YOU CHOOSE NOW?? NOW TO NOTICE I’M SPIRALING”

Now, when you’ve started to feel like a normal girl. With normal concerns and normal friends and a normal…boyfriend?

Your uncle tries to reach over and grab your hand but you pull away, “All because what?? I’ve got a man in my bed??”

You choke on your laughter, “I’ll have you know all we do is sleep. WE FUCKING SLEEP AND HE HOLDS ME”

Your voice quivers, “He just holds me…and you’re tryin’ to take that away from me?”

Your hands grip your head, fingers curling around the base of your scalp, there’s too much going on inside you and all you want is peace.

“I-I” You squeeze your eyes shut, “I can’t do this”

You push away from the table and rush to leave. Your shoulder bumps into the wall knocking over a picture, you race out of the house stumbling as you grab your bag and sweater from the couch.

Your uncle is left staring at the space you once occupied a sad terrible feeling in his chest. He sits in his seat, shoulders deflated.

Gina slowly walks into the dining room, her soft hands rubbing his shoulder, moving to wrap around him in a hug, “Too far?” he asks.

Gina hums. The quiet of the night chilling his bones. Did I ruin everything, he wonders somberly.

–

The night air shrouds you in a heaviness you haven’t felt in a while. It’s quiet, so terribly quiet and you hate it. Your fingers press into your eyes, forcing the tears to return, forcing the memories to die.

Your mouth quivers as memories are thrust to the forefront of your mind,

“It’s alright baby, just hide in here and everything will be okay” Her fingers trembled as she pushed you down into a sitting position. Wiping away the tears staining your face, she begs you to keep quiet. “Shhhh, momma’s gonna take care of everything”

You block the rest of it out. You quicken your pace. You’re running through the street, tears falling despite your desperation to bury it. Bury more memories, more terrible, dreadful thoughts, it’s too much.

It isn’t until you bump into a figure, stumbling to a forceful stop; that you take in your surroundings.

Between the swell of tears, you see Gail’s face with furrowed brows and red lips pursed in concern. The glowing sign of the Vandal Bar shines brightly behind her. You can hear the hustle and bustle of men hollering and cheering on the inside.

You blink and struggle to speak. Your chest tightens and unwanted sobs leave your mouth.

Someone steps out of the bar, It’s Corky, “oh shit, what-?”

“Wh-wh-w-?” You struggle to speak a full sentence so you push out a name, “Benny”

Corky sensing the urgency runs back inside. Gail guides you to sit on the sidewalk. Her arms wrap around your shoulders.

“You’ll be alright sunny,” She whispers, her fingers tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. She stays with you until Benny races out the club doors.

His eyes roam the street till he lands on your sobbing shoulders and bent head, your hands are wiping away furious tears that won’t stop. Gail isn’t sure what to do to calm you down, but she figures the only person who could is Benny, so she slips away, leaving you alone in the silence of the night with Benny’s concerned eyes watching over you.

You feel him sit next to you. His shoulders and thighs brushing against you. You suck in a breath, “I waited for you”

You sniffle, the sound awfully loud in the silence.

He rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t know not showin would lead you to ballin your eyes out, baby”

You don’t glance at him nor do you acknowledge what he’s said. He’s clasped his hands over his bent knees, his eyes staring up at the night sky.

“You listened to him.” You don’t mention who him was exactly but you know that Benny understands. Because he sighs, “He said I’d ruin you.”

He says it quietly, his voice a deep sorrowful rasp. “You’re too good for me…”

You angle your head to look at him, your tears have stopped but you can still feel the wet trail they left behind, “do you want me?”

It’s a bold question, but something you’ve been dying to ask. He fidgets with his rings, his head slowly turns to you his brows furrowed, he bites his lip and he nods. His blue eyes are clear and attentive to your facial expressions.

You’re glaring at him and he finds this amusing, “Then why didn’t you show up”

Benny wants to say something but doesn’t know what. He looks away and stares at his hands, he clasps one over his wrists, “he’s right”

The admission scares him. You’re too good for him. Too pure and innocent. It’s been two weeks of bliss for Benny. You’re the quiet in the storm. The peace in the chaos. He didn’t know life could feel more fulfilling with a lady by his side. But he has you now and he’s never felt so…light. Riding gives him freedom. But being with you gives him peace.

He struggles to find the words to tell you how he feels. To tell you what he thinks but he finds himself remaining silent. Offering the bare minimum of an explanation. None of it explains his heart.

“I’m already ruined,” you bite out. “But..you make me feel… less…broken”

Benny glances at you. He watches as you turn and bite your lip, your eyes flickering away tears. A stark contrast to the happy fun girl he’s witnessed the last two weeks. He recognizes a weight on your shoulders. A weight that he’s carried himself.

“Forgive me,” it’s all he can say as he watches you turn in on yourself. Sinking deeper into your thoughts. He wants to see you smile again. To hear your laugh and watch you dance around carelessly. He wants you to be free of burdens but he doesn’t know how to help.

You shift, adjusting your position on the cold hard sidewalk, you flicker a look in his direction. He’s staring at you with sad eyes, “You have to pick me up every night now. For the rest of your life.”

He blinks not expecting such a simple request for forgiveness, he gives you a smile, “that all?”

“No. You have to give me a ride whenever I want to wherever I want and…”

You try to think of something else, “You have to make me yours.”

You like the way he smirks at you, his left hand reaches out cupping your chin, his thumb brushes your bottom lip which is now bruised from all your biting, “Baby, you were mine the moment you got on my bike”

Taglist: @storiesfromafan , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @preciouslilmonster

[anonymousbardd]

Character Headcanons

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: My Man

↳ Various x FemReader

The following characters are Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, and Gongseob Ji.

ʚɞ ┊: Gun Park

↳ When he first heard (F/n) call him "my man", because a random girl was drooling all over him, he couldn't help but think about that moment every night before sleep.

'Cause of that, he's been a bit more affectionate which isn't really his thing, this confused his lover a bit but hell she ain't complaining.

Now whenever Gun teases (F/n) he'd say something like, "Come help me out with work, after all, I'm your man, aren't I?"

And now, Gun repeatedly asks what he is to (F/n) whenever they make love in front of the mirror.

ʚɞ ┊: Goo Kim

↳ When Gun had asked what Goo means to (F/n), the blonde man was eavesdropping and was surprised when he heard his lover response.

"Goo...? He's silly and well, goofy, but even so, he's still my man."

He got so excited and came out from his hiding place, catching the young woman off gaurd.

"Cutie piee! I'm your man?! You called me your man!" He kept repeating it over and over again.

(F/n) had been smothered in gifts and kisses the next few weeks after.

ʚɞ ┊: Samuel Seo

↳ It was just a normal kissing session between the two in Samuel's office, it was getting spicy when someone had knocked on the door.

Samuel pulled away and cleared his throat while (F/n) fixed her blouse, Samuel then sighed and let the person who knocked in.

It was a young girl who seemed to be nervous to be there.

"Uh-uhm... Mister Goo Kim wishes to see you..." She said, (F/n) huffed and crossed her arms.

"Tell him that my man is busy and will get to him in a bit," she said in a stern voice.

The young girl nodded and left the room, Samuel turned to (F/n) and chuckled, "Your brother's going to kill me, you know."

(F/n) rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Samuel chuckled and kissed (F/n)'s lips, before Samuel even got the chance for his lips to reach her neck, Goo came barging in with a sword in his hand ready to remove Samuel's existence.

ʚɞ ┊: Jake Kim

↳ It was a lovely day, Jerry and (F/n) were playfully claiming Jake for themselves.

"Sir Jake belongs to me!" Jerry said, "Nuh-uh! He's mine!" (F/n) argued, Jerry and (F/n) had a sibling like relationship.

They continued to argue like that for a while.

"Humph! Sir Jake is my boss!" He said, "Oh yeah? Well he's my man so let him go!"

Once those words left the young woman's mouth, a grin crept on Jake's lips, the other members who were in the same room stiffened as the atmosphere tensed.

Jake turned to (F/n) and leaned down, "What did you say? Could you repeat that please?" He said.

The young woman shook her head and let go of Jake, "I-it's nothing..! Forget about it!" (F/n) turned to Lua in hopes to get away.

Jake held the young woman's wrist and dragged her out the room, "Come now, I want to hear you repeat what you just called me in bed."

ʚɞ ┊: Gongseob Ji

↳ (F/n) would rather be caught dead than to call Gongseob her man, she's still in pretty much denial phase that the young man had taken interest in her.

Though she slowly started to warm up to him, she still wanted to keep their relationship a secret.

The typical good girl x bad boy romance.

(F/n)'s friends had noticed how close Gongseob is, or rather, how close Gongseob tries to be with (F/n).

Eventually, they asked (F/n) what Gongseob is to her.

(F/n) paused and thought for a moment, then, a random girl was talking about how hot Gongseob was.

(F/n) huffed and crossed her arms, in a loud voice, she stated, "He's MY man, Gongseob Ji is MY man!"

It was loud enough for the girl to hear, and for the passing braided man to also hear.

"Oh-ho ho? You're finally admitting it?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around (F/n)'s waist.

"Humph! Shut it," she replied, still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips.

She then shot daggers on the girl who was overly complimenting her lover and stuck out her tongue.

༝༚༝༚����𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[strayheartless]

Alternative meeting between Tifa and Cloud in FFVII.

…

This is so unbelievably stupid. Her and her big mouth were going to get her in trouble one day she swears to shiva “oh, what’s that miter Lexington? Your car battery died just outside of Midgar and you need it jumpstarted! I have cables I can do it.” What the hell was wrong with her! Not only did the old coot abandon her at the gates with a “bigger emergency” but to add insult to injury he’d slapped her ass and Tifa was STILL helping him!

… maybe she’d ask Barret to shoot her next time she decided helpfulness was better than self respect. Fuck it’s warm out here.

As she pushes on past the 200 mile sign for Kalm she wonders if the car is even out here. It’s a pain in the ass to see past the waves of heat radiating from the ground and last time she was out here she’d gotten sunburned everywhere but her ass. It has been unbareable. This time she’d taken the precaution of a long duster coat and what little sunscreen she could scrounge up from Jessie’s last tour in Costa-del-sol. She’s regretting the coat now, but whatever.

Off in the distance she sees the lookout point on the Cliff and a tiny moving yellow dot told her there was a truck coming towards her from the high roads. When it approached a gentleman in a red bandana and large moustache pulled on the hand break and rolled down the window.

“Where you headed little lady?” He said and it didn’t sound snide but Tifa didn’t let her guard too much. Rule one on the ground floor: people aren’t nice for free.

“Oh just jump starting a car. I’m not in any trouble. Thanks for checking though.” She smiles disarmingly.

“Well shoot, that’s alright. You just be careful though. Was driving some boys up this way but something damn near shot out my tires and the tallish feller told me to scram. Recon there’s gon-be a shootout around these parts.” He sniffed and whipped his nose on his sleeve, making Tifa cringe internally. But he didn’t have to stop and warn her. She felt bad for being grossed out.

“Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me. How far back did you drop them off?”

As she asked a few dozen shots rang out and the sound of fast moving metal hitting metal zinged through the air.

A voice rang out from the cliff top. Tifa couldn’t make out what it was saying though.

“Cliff top… got it. I’ll stay away for now. Than you…”

“Benny.”

“Thank you Benny”

When the man had driven away Tifa eyed the cliff top, watching for a second as a figure began to back up onto it. They were going to fall if they weren’t careful. She shook her head looking up at the sky. A helecopter was coming. Shit, whatever was going on was shinra business. Maybe she’d steer a little more clear than intended…

Mr Lexingtons car was only a little further in a ditch (which he hadn’t warned her about.) but after a few good pushes and a bolt of power she was good to go. The engine was pretty much full, and with a Jerry can in the back full of Gasoline she was confident there wouldn’t be anymore problems. As she jumped into the passenger seat though she couldn’t help but look at the cliff again.

There had been a distant rumble of gunfire for a good twenty minutes now, and at some point the clang of metal had stopped and the figure seemed to have crumpled to their knees. She watched in morbid curiosity as what looked like an infantry soldier smacked the butt of their gun into the persons head.

Ouch.

The figure crumpled onto their back and Tifa heard another shot and watched horrified as the Infantry guy went to take another shot.

Surely the guy was dead?!

Against her own better Judgment she gunned the engine and made a U turn towards the Cliff. If she could just get there. Just a little further…

The last shot rang out. Fuck fuck FUCK!

She pushed down hard on the accelerator, hoping behind hope the person could hold out a little longer for help. But about two miles up the road sand blew back against the truck as that same Hellicopter that had circled took off again back to midgar. Had they shot the person and just left them there?!

The rain had started, fast and heavy now. The trucks wipers were pretty much useless against the onslaught. It was bouncing off of the parched earth like halestones on a tin roof. The sound was almost deafening.

At the top of the Hill Tifa kills the engine and hops out, pulling her Coat closer against her. It did very little to ward off the rain but it was something.

“Hello!?” She yelled into the murky air.

“Hello?! Are you out there!”

There was someone at the edge of the cliff. They looked like they were wearing shoulder pads or paldrons. A soldier maybe? She hesitates for a second when a hand reaches up from the ground and pulls the other person down to their chest. It’s the guy who was shot. She can’t hear them. Not even a little. Maybe they can’t hear her either.

Before she can think better of this oh so stupid decision she keeps moving forward towards them. The body on the ground moves again, lifting something from next to them. A pipe maybe? No a sword. It’s a sword… fuck it looks bad. The hand slips and falls and Tifa tries to fight against the rain and the mud that is churning under her boots.

“Hello-“ her second attempt to call out is cut off by a scream from the second figure who’s head is tilted back towards the sky. Something is seriously wrong here and Tifa starts running as the second figure crumpled and clings to the body on the ground.

She drops to her knees when she’s there but thinks better of touching the perso-

“Cloud?! Oh gods Cloud is that you?!”

The person climbing to the body has spikey blond hair that Tifa would know anywhere, simply because it was so unique. He’s small and looks sickly, his face drenched in blood. It’s not his blood she thinks it’s-

She’s going to be sick. She’s going to throw up because the body on the ground is someone she knows. She knew. Fuck whatever! The body on the ground is First Class Sooldier Zack Fair.

“Oh gods Cloud what happened to both of you?!” She reaches out to touch him and Cloud Flinches clinging to the body harder. He’s scared she realises. Whatever happened to them… it must have been bad.

“Cloud it’s Tifa. You know me. Cloud? Im so sorry for your loss but we can’t stay here, those people might come back we have to-“

“NO!” Cloud cages the body under him and snarls at her almost feral with grief. Gods he really is covered in blood. There are morbid tear and rain tracks down his face like a terrible kabuki mask and it makes her shiver.

“Cloud… it’s me. It’s Tifa. You know me. Please Cloud. It’s me.”

He manages to look like he’s a stray dog with his hackles raised as he stares at her. The longer he stares the lower his shoulders seem to drop… the more confused and afraid he seems.

“Ti- Ti-fa?”

“Yes! Yeah Cloud it’s me. It’s Tifa Lockhart. You remember me? From the village?”

He nods hesitantly.

“Good. Okay good. That’s great. Do you trust me enough to get in my car?”

Cloud clings to Zack again, and Tifa swallows the bile rising in her throat as the sick squelch of blood on skin seems to echo.

“He… Zack… He… comes… too.”

Fuck, she’s so not getting paid for this. Blood in a truck that’s not even hers? Does it even matter? This was her friend. The only person from Nibelhiem who had ever been unaccounted for.

Did he know about that? Did he know about his mom? About her dad? That Zack had been there? That his hero sephiroth had killed them? Killed them all!

She holds out her hand and telegraphs her movements taking Zacks pulse…

…..

……..

………..

BADUM……………..

………..

…….

BADUM.

Holy mother of Minerva this guy is still alive!

“Shit! Okay, yeah! Okay We can take him! Can you walk on your own? I can’t carry him and you. I’m strong but aim not two dead weight supersoldiers strong.”

Cloud shifted and blinked. He was still Gripping the sword.

“We can bring that too.” She offered gently. He didn’t look like he was about to let go of it any time soon.

“I’ll…. Be… his living…. Legacy….”

“Oh cloud…”

Tifa gets to her feet, her knee highs covered in tacky red clay mud. Bending at the knees she lifts Fair bridal style, trying not to agfitate his wounds. His head lolls back limply. She really hopes they can get back in time to save him.

“Alright Fair, don’t die on me. You owe me for bringing that psycho to my village, and I’ll be pissed if your too dead to say sorry…”

Zack doesn’t react, but a pale bloody hand reaches for his face. Cloud wipes the blood away the best he can.

“Live…. Please….”

Tifa chews on her lip nervously. They needed to get back to midgar. Now.

Getting them both in the Truck Tifa guns the engine and steps on it.

Gods she hopes this is enough.

[jomiddlemarch]

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

Walter had died a week ago and Gilbert didn’t want to go home. He sat at his desk and pretended to himself there was another prescription to write or that he’d told John Campbell to call round when he could, there might be something Gilbert could do for his bad hip, something he’d seen in a medical journal, the receipt for a liniment that truly was better than the salve old Mrs. Thelma Morrison stirred up of an evening, more efficacious and less likely to advertise his arrival with the rank scent of ramps crushed in tallow.

It was a lie.

There was no work yet to be done that would keep him, unless there was some queer version of mercy at play that would deliver a fisherman with a hook deep in his palm, calling for finesse and patience, the lamp lit against the dark.

It was quiet, the voices in the harbor hushed or still, and there was nothing more for him to do but admit the truth.

He simply didn’t want to go home.

It was not that the house would be empty, though that would be its own grief he knew. To go home to Ingleside and find no lamp lit against the dusk, no Anne on the sofa with a basket of mending and a book marked with a frayed scrap of ribbon, no Susan banging about in the kitchen, no Rilla dandling Jims on her knee, cheeks pink with a self-righteous spite as she complained about her Junior Reds, so much like her mother had been at the same age. The rooms all too big, the silence too loud.

And agony and yet, a surcease.

The house was full. Anne and her suffering, her grey eyes dark, her hair dressed very simply, beyond any attempt at vanity, drifted from the sitting room to their bedroom, aimless or beyond settling. Susan, cooking up whatever she thought might tempt one of them to take more than a few bites, catching herself about to mention Walter every third sentence, Miss Cornelia coming by with a basket of baked goods Gilbert would bring on his rounds to prevent wasting the food that no one in the house would eat. Rilla with her sisters, Nan and Di home from the college, all three reminding Gilbert of nothing more than a wilted nosegay, Nan and Rilla’s eyes reddened from weeping, Di’s lips bitten, chapped, her bright hair bundled back in an old-fashioned snood she’d have previously mocked in amused derision, the littlest Meredith girl sitting beside them, too thin, too pale. She’d been in love with Walter, that was clear now, and it was no longer charming or worth shaking his head over ruefully.

So many broken hearts. None he could fix.

Jem didn’t know yet, nor Shirley. He and Anne had agreed not to cable or write either of them. There was nothing they could do but grieve for their brother but that grief might be a distraction they could ill afford. The girls hadn’t argued as he’d expected and it was Rilla who’d spoken up, saying Let him be alive a little longer then while Nan crumpled up the letter she’d been writing to Jerry Meredith.

She would have been telling him about Walter. She wouldn’t risk him, nor the rare chance that he’d come across Shirley or Jem and mention Walter’s death. It was impossible to think Jerry would simply run into Jem in the trenches, except that stranger things had happened and Walter, his inquisitive little boy with his mother’s eyes, had been lost to them. His name on a telegram was all they’d get unless some officer in his battalion had the wherewithal to pack up his few remaining personal belongings and send them back to Ingleside on a ship that didn’t get sunk crossing the Atlantic.

Impossible.

Real.

His office was a place of relative respite. Walter had spent little time there, not interested in doctoring, not like Jem or Di, and so he couldn’t haunt it. There were charts to review and journals to leaf through, and no one came who wanted him to be anything else other than Doctor Blythe.

Not Dad. Not Gil dear.

His own parents, thank God, were dead. Marilla too and Mrs. Rachel. 

The clock ticked. He’d have to leave soon enough.

The face that peered in through the door after the briefest, smartest rap, was not one he’d have ever expected.

“I was sent to fetch you, but we can go the long way back,” Mary Vance said. In the failing light of evening, her queer, pale eyes gleamed like the stones he’d liked to skip across Willowmere when he’d idled on the way home from Green Gables. There was a sturdiness to her shoulders and the set of her chin that had become reassuring to a man who now lived in a house of wraiths. She was twenty-three, just a year younger than Jem, a woman grown and not a girl, though she’d no pretense to vanity in her person or tone. Practical and imperturbable, she was one of the few people he could think of he needn’t take care of.

“Mrs. Blythe sent you?” he asked. He tried not to hope Anne had worried enough to speak of it.

“Mrs. Elliott,” Mary shrugged. She knew he would be disappointed, but she wouldn’t lie. “Said you’d soon be needing a doctor yourself if you missed your supper and she doesn’t think highly of Susan’s fish pie in any case.”

“Fish pie,” Gilbert repeated, getting up from his chair and reaching for his overcoat. He ought to be made of sterner stuff, the autumn only just beginning, but he’d been cold at the marrow since he’d learned of his son’s death.

“Mackerel. Had a good catch, down at the cove. I s’pose old Susan thought as long as it was pie, you’d like it,” Mary replied. She smiled, not coaxing but wry, suddenly reminded him of his mother. Neither was much given to effusiveness or cossetting.

“Susan’s not old and it’s not kind to say it,” Gilbert said.

“But it’s not too rude to hear it,” Mary countered. “She was born old, Miss Baker, and if you told her that, she’d be proud of it.”

He laughed then, a startled, almost choked sound he hadn’t known he was capable of, but she’d been so apt and so matter-of-fact…

“You’re quite observant, you’d make a good doctor,” he said.

“Maybe. Not for the likes of me, all that education. And I’m too blunt,” she replied.

“A nurse then,” Gilbert said.

“The War won’t last forever,” she said. “When it’s over, it won’t all be an agony. Sickbeds and wounds to be stitched. There’ll be other lives to live. Work to do. Dreams, for the ones who put stock in such things.”

“Not for everyone,” he said. His boy, gone away, his voice silenced. It hurt worse than little Joy, who’d never asked just one more question, Papa, at bedtime, before Jem had convinced him to call Gil Dad or Father, who’d never made him notice the dappled light of the woods or made him laugh calming Rilla down from her rage at being called Spider.

“No,” Mary said and Gilbert braced himself for the consolation. The balance. Walter died with honor. He’d had his poem read round the world. He’d made his peace with it. 

It happened. People died young.

Ruby Gillis.

Kenneth West.

Captain Jim’s lost Margaret.

Walter Blythe.

“Mrs. Elliott will have my hide if I don’t get you back before she leaves and Marshall gets antsy left to his own devices,” Mary said. She pulled a very large, very clean white handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him. “But we can still take the long way back. I’ll manage the driving.”

“Marigold needs a light hand,” Gilbert said. 

“I’ll manage, Doctor Blythe. You needn’t worry about me,” Mary said. She gave him another sharp look. “I’ll take the hankie back before we’re at Ingleside. Mrs. Blythe and old Susan won’t be bothered. And Rilla’s war-baby said a half-dozen new words today, so they’re in decent spirits. It’s just the pie you’ve got to choke down.”

[paperbackribs]

A Tarnished Copper Boy (10)

Previous | Next | Ao3 Last chapter, Steve returned to spring 1985 while Eddie was high and having a good time hanging out with his friend, Randy. Unable to put his finger on it while stoned, Eddie was nevertheless left with the uneasy feeling that he messed up somehow.

Chapter 10: No Outsiders, But One

Jerry Lewis is waxing nostalgic in the background when Eddie wakes on the couch, the thin blanket now folded into his embrace and under his cheek. Wayne stands curled over Eddie in his grey pyjamas, hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Come on, Eds. Time to go to bed.”

Eddie smacks his lips, mouth dry as the Sahara, while whisps of the afternoon come back to him. “Can’t,” Eddie mumbles, stumbling over his words while sleep still grips him. “Steve. Bed.”

“Ah,” Wayne says understandingly, pulling Eddie up by the arm. He pushes him towards his bedroom, already starting to unfold the cushions. “That’s good then, go on. It’s not the first time you’ve shared, and God knows you’ll be doing it again from this point.”

Eddie nods tiredly, that’s right. Steve doesn’t have much choice other than to share and they’d already agreed that it was okay, but a flicker of unease lingers from their uncertain greeting in the afternoon.

Quietly opening the bedroom door, he sees that the room is pitch dark except for a sharp triangle of moonlight that runs across the floor and bottom of the bed. Eddie can’t see Steve’s face. He shuffles to his side of the bed, tempted to stick his arms out and tiredly moan like a zombie from Dawn of the Dead. He doesn't, but it's as Eddie edges under the blanket that he wonders if he's woken him.

“Steve?” He calls softly, but there is no answer. Eddie allows his lids to heavily fall and sleep to take him back once more.

When Eddie wakes again, the morning light is creeping through the window, tentatively banishing the shadows that linger in the corners of his room. He hears the Hamiltons start to get into it and groans, pushing his head into the soft pillow. How can they have the energy first thing in the morning—first thing on a Sunday morning—to fight? Barbarians, the lot of them. The raised voices inexplicably remind him of yesterday and the fact that Steve is back.

He peeks through the hair fallen around his face to see the other side of the bed is empty. Shooting his hand out to touch the mattress he can feel that it’s still warm: yesterday wasn’t a dream. He hadn’t imagined Steve coming back; it’s just that he had left Eddie alone in bed.

A jitter of nervousness crawls up Eddie’s spine and he rolls out from under the covers, determined to make certain that… well, he’s not sure actually. He just knows that his instinct is telling him that something is wrong.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. Wayne’s steady droning buzzes in the background and he looks up while pouring orange juice into a Pizza Hut tumbler; on it is stamped a childish Fred Flintstone in a design reminiscent of a church’s haloed saint, glimmering with a mysterious smile on a stained-glassed window.

Steve’s smile is easy as he greets Eddie, “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you. Want some OJ?”

Eddie takes the proffered drink and perches on the kitchen stool to observe Steve, he fidgets with the glass. Tilting Fred back and forth until the juice threatens to spill wetly onto the turquoise counter. Steve twists the bread bag and ties it with a flourish, “So we’re past winter already? Are we in ‘85?”

Nodding in confirmation, Eddie carefully watches Steve’s easygoing demeanour.

“I wish I had a way of knowing when I land.” He grimaces with a rueful shake of his head before turning as the toaster pops, “At least I know where I am, am I right?”

Steve’s body language and tone are all light, carefree even, but Eddie can’t help but feel there is more underneath the surface. Is Slippery Steve making an appearance again?

Racking his brain though, Eddie can’t think of what Steve might be hiding. Chews his lip at the thought that Eddie may be happy to see Steve, but it could be a different matter for Steve at seeing Eddie again. Perhaps their time after Thanksgiving had been a domestic fever dream.

Steve’s back is to Eddie, the scraping sound telling him that he’s doctoring his toast. “If you’re still here at this time of the morning then I assume it’s the weekend? You up to much? Probably seeing the guys, right.”

“Nah, you’re back. I thought we’d hang out,” Eddie says, feeling wrong-footed but trying to style it out anyway. Figures if he has some more time with Steve then he’ll get to the bottom of the awkward atmosphere that is increasingly thickening between them.

“Look, Eddie…” Steve puts down the knife but doesn’t turn around, head hanging a little between the shoulders facing him. “I get that… I mean, it’s got to be a bit much, having me in your place all the time. And by no means am I trying to kick you out of your own home, because I’m grateful. I really am. But you don’t have to feel like you need to entertain me while I’m also taking over your space.”

Eddie feels like he’s been slapped in the face with a dead fish. “Steve,” he asks, frowning, “Where is this coming from?” Hadn’t they had a good time hanging out during his last visit?

Half the time they had pleasantly whiled away the hours talking about fuck all and the other half companionably coexisting, sharing thoughts on a magazine article or a line in a novel, or just watching repeats of the Brady Bunch while Eddie braided his lengthening hair and Steve whipped up dinner. It had been the best sort of easy.

“Nowhere,” Steve says shortly and Eddie fancies that he can hear the lie even if he can’t see it from his view of the back of Steve’s head.

Steve picks the knife back up, cutting the toast into triangles. “But you can’t even bring your friend around because I’ll be here; you can’t just hang out in your own place because I’m everywhere. So, I don’t want you to feel, like, obligated or anything because you’re saving my ass and letting me stay.”

Eddie cracks his knuckles, thinking. “Do you feel obligated to hang out with me since you’re stuck here?” He asks cautiously.

“What? No!” Steve spins in place, hands flying to grip his hips in clear annoyance. “You know it’s not the same. I’m the one… invading!”

“Maybe,” comes a muffled voice from the burrito on the sofa bed, “I can stay at home and the two of you can go out together today.”

Steve turns a deep ruddy red, eyes flying open and alarm glittering in their depths. He curses before turning and fleeing back into their bedroom. The peanut butter toast lies abandoned across from Eddie.

He looks over at his uncle, the dome of his bald head and the bridge of his nose showing above the covers, eyelids still hooded from sleep. “I’m happy for you that he’s back, Eds. But for Christ’s sake, have this conversation after I’ve had my coffee.” Wayne pauses, instructing Eddie before turning back onto his side, “Put the pot on and make me a coffee.”

Eddie glumly pulls out the ground beans from inside the fridge, measuring the dark granules into the paper filter of their old coffee maker. He watches the steady drip drip drip of the brew filling the glass carafe, running through that bizarre conversation in his mind. Had Eddie not been welcoming enough? Had he not made it clear how much he fucking loves having Steve around?

His eyes flicker over the cramped kitchen space to his slowly moving uncle in his bedroom slash living room. Or perhaps it’s that Steve, unquestionably from the right side of the tracks, is used to living in a house with double doors and open entryways with carefully cultivated lawns. Perhaps he’s finding it difficult to be shacked up in a trailer with little to speak for itself other than a bitching collection of decorative mugs and trucker hats.

Eddie pushes the thought deep down, reminding himself that he’d already begun questioning a lot of his assumptions about preppy King Steve of the present, let alone the genuinely good guy currently in his house.

Eventually, he trails after Steve with two mugs of reconciliation coffee in hand. He pushes open the door with his ass and spies Steve half-turned, shirt raised to his chest and trying to look at his fading injuries in the mirror. Steve had usually changed in the bathroom during his last visit, and Eddie is relieved to see the bruises healed and almost banished.

Their not-quite-a-fight seems to be forgotten as Steve says, “Hey, do you think these need to come out? They’re itching like crazy.” He stops himself from using his nails, but Steve still rubs at the sutured wounds with the meat of his palm, clearly trying to soothe the irritated skin.

Eddie carelessly places the mugs down on the bedside table, all doubts and uncertainties from the kitchen falling away in the face of Steve’s injuries. “I forgot to look it up,” he realises, angry at himself. “How could I forget when I was the one bandaging them?”

“To be fair, Eddie, I took over tending them after the third day,” Steve sensibly points out.

Eddie scowls up at Steve’s face before inspecting the deep pink flesh pushing against the black thread, “And I should have followed up.” He doesn’t know whether the colour around Steve’s wounds is normal. He doesn’t even know when stitches are supposed to come out. Eddie curses himself: he had stupidly assumed they were the dissolving kind.

He grabs the first aid book still resting on the kit and flips through it — he’ll never be able to go back to the library again. But it says nothing about sutures specifically other than to consult a medical professional in the case of significant tearing. He blows out a breath in frustration, his bangs fluttering with the force of it.

“I know we said no outsiders…”

Steve squints at him suspiciously but Eddie powers on, “…but Catherine is a nurse.”

“No,” Steve says instantly, firmly. “What if saying something to her ends up being the event that changes the future? Only you can know, Eddie.”

“Wayne already knows you’re here,” he raises gently. “He wasn’t a part of the original plan either.”

Steve’s jaw gets a stubborn cast to it, arms already folding over his chest. “Why can’t we just cut them out ourselves?”

“You say that like digging into your body with sharp objects on a random Sunday is totally reasonable and normal.”

“Better than stepping on a butterfly!

“Why are you so willing to risk your body, Steve?” Eddie whirls away in frustration, tugging at his hair. The sharp pain does little to clear the roiling emotion starting to rise in him. “I feel like every time I see you you’re hurt or need bandaging and you just shrug it off.”

“Because I have to, Eddie! Sometimes I just need to take the hit and keep moving. If I don’t people could die. The kids could get eaten. Robin could get tortured. And you’ll end up dead! I need to use the only thing I’ve got going for me and that’s my fucking body. So what if I get a little banged up?”

Eddie sucks in a shocked breath, “I die?”

“What?” Confusion runs over Steve’s face, his eyes blanking for a moment before he rapidly blinks like he’s rebooting. “No — I…” Eventually, the light comes back into his expression, and he shakes his head confidently, “No. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ll be okay. But only as long as we keep to the plan. Obviously, Wayne was unavoidable since this is his home, but that’s it.” Steve's tone urges him to understand, but Eddie is unmoved.

“And Catherine is necessary too, Steve.” Eddie shakes off the momentary fear that had gripped him at the misunderstanding that he would die soon, the unwavering honesty in Steve’s voice reassuring. He gestures at his torso. “This is beyond me and a dinky little first aid kit.”

Steve’s eyes slide to the big green case in the corner of the room, “That’s not dinky, Eddie. That’s like a professional set-up.”

“Yeah, but my knowledge only runs so far. Please,” Eddie pleads, afraid that Steve is going to hurt himself further by trying to dig the stitches out himself. “I’ll get her to promise not to say anything. Catherine’s good people. If she says that she’ll keep quiet, then she will.”

Steve softens at Eddie’s distress, face twisting as if Eddie has physically wrangled the concession from him. “Okay.” His arms drop to the sides in defeat. “She has to promise first before she even hears about me.”

“I promise,” Eddie vows but he frowns, still lingering over what Steve had revealed. “If my thing wasn’t true, then…”

Steve drops heavily into the desk chair, head hanging between his shoulders and strands of falling hair not quite masking the devastation on his face. “No, the other things will happen. Have happened with the kids already. They nearly got eaten by dog versions of the demogorgons over Halloween — your last Halloween,” he clarifies.

“And Robin…” Steve draws a hand roughly over his face. “I’m here, before it’s even happened, and I’m going to let her go through all that again. Fuck.” He curses suddenly and viciously, slamming his closed fist hard against his thigh. Eddie winces and rushes forward as Steve moves to hit himself again.

Skidding to his knees in front of him, Eddie positions his elbows on Steve’s legs so he can’t continue to hurt himself and moves his hands up to cradle Steve’s doleful face. He squeezes his eyes shut as if to deny himself from taking any comfort that Eddie would offer.

“Hey, we talked about this. You said it: the big bad is pretty big and fucking bad, and you need to win or it’s end of the world time.” Eddie thinks rapidly and takes a guess with a silent prayer. “What would Robin say if she were here? What would she tell you to do?”

Steve's eyes crack open, a wet snort making its way out of his mouth. “Something like don’t be a dingus and do what’s right. I’ll see you on the bathroom floor.” His nose is red from keeping back the tears shimmering in his gaze and his warm hazel eyes are so, so sad.

“Right,” Eddie says in relief, thankful that his gamble had paid off. “She’s definitely terrifying then.”

“She can be very logical at times,” Steve admits.

They both smile, tentative, delicate things. Eddie strokes his thumb against the silk of Steve’s cheek, not knowing whether it’s better or worse that they’re dry under his touch. Steve’s eyes flicker between his own before his gaze runs more fully over Eddie’s face, pausing for a weighted moment on his mouth. Time freezes and Eddie thinks for a breathless second that Steve is going to kiss him. He can feel the warm wash of his breath over suddenly tingling lips.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Steve closes his eyes and drops the side of his head more fully into Eddie’s right palm, almost nuzzling it in comfort. It makes Eddie’s stomach flutter, watching Steve — so unwilling to seek help for the most part but leaning on Eddie for support in this moment. Putting aside all of his stoicism and bravery to find sanctuary literally in Eddie’s hands.

Eddie can’t help himself and he slowly stretches forward, giving Steve time to back away, and places a gentle kiss against his forehead. Pressing a promise against his skin that Eddie will always be the safe place for Steve to land, the person he can be soft and vulnerable with and take from whatever strength he needs. He hears Steve draw in a ragged breath like he can hear the vow as clearly as a spoken declaration voiced into the quiet air between them.

Holding Steve like a heart in his hand, Eddie nearly brushes another kiss against him, just a simple comfort but pressed to the bridge of his nose this time, over those two little creases that appear more often than Eddie likes.

But he takes his self-control in a stranglehold and pulls away because he knows that once he starts then he won’t want to stop. And Eddie will follow those innocent kisses with an experimental press against Steve’s lips. But Steve doesn’t deserve that: for Eddie to push his desires on him in a moment of openness and trust.

He clears his throat, drawing back to meet Steve’s uncertain gaze. Unable to abstain from offering a last bit of comfort he strokes his thumbs against him once more before bringing his hands down and resting back on his heels.

“You’re doing the best you can in a situation you have very little control over,” Eddie reassures Steve. “Just. Let me help where I can, okay? And that means trusting me to look after you too.”

The lines of Steve’s face eases, those two creases vanishing for the moment, and he smiles, albeit it’s a little wobbly. “That sounds nice actually.”

“Okay,” Eddie says decisively, deliberately brightening his tone, “You wait here. I’m going to go ask Nurse Catherine if she’s willing to see a patient on the down low. It’s Forrest Hills, it can’t be the first time.”

“If she’s anything like your uncle, maybe take her a please-let-me-bug-you-on-a-Sunday-morning mug of coffee.”

Eddie’s grin is lightning fast, “Good idea.”

As it turns out, it’s not the first time and Catherine has a fairly placid reaction to Eddie turning up on her doorstep on a weekend morning asking for secret medical assistance. “You’re lucky my rotation changed recently, or I would have left you a surprise in your van for waking me after a night shift,” she acerbically observes. Her auburn hair is fluffy around her round face and, despite being a head shorter than Eddie, he feels like she is looking down at him from a looming height.

He shuffles his feet as she retreats into her home, reappearing with her own kit in hand and following him back to his trailer. “And why can’t I mention your friend elsewhere?”

Eddie eyes her nervously as he opens the screen door but she only sighs, “I promised that I wouldn’t say anything. All I’m saying is that you better not be getting me involved in anything too illegal.”

Eddie smiles broadly, infusing as much charm into his movements and voice as he can, gesturing for her to enter before him. “Scouts honour, no illegal happenings in this humble abode and we very much appreciate your help.”

She lets out a robust snort before striding ahead of him, still regal as a queen. As they walk in, Eddie realises he hadn’t thought to warn his uncle about the possibility of a visit from Catherine. Otherwise, he probably would have changed out of his pyjamas, a novelty pair that Eddie had gifted him in a tasteful grey cotton with Bugs Bunny chewing on a carrot replicated across the material from shoulders to ankle.

Seeing them, Wayne startles upward and nearly knocks over his second mug of coffee.

“Catherine, what are you doing here?”

Catherine smiles like the cat that caught the canary, eyes trailing over Wayne. “Good morning, Wayne, nice jammies.”

Eddie is delighted to watch his uncle turn a deep crimson, but it’s as he stumbles over how to respond to her unexpected appearance that Eddie takes pity on him. Feeling bad for springing Catherine on him when he hadn’t been expecting it.

He steps in between the charged atmosphere between the two older adults and explains to Wayne, “Steve had some stitches put in a couple of weeks ago, but they weren’t dissolvable like we expected. Catherine’s agreed to do us a solid and help take them out.”

Catherine drags her bright eyes away to contemplate Eddie for a moment before turning back to Wayne with a more serious mien, “Eddie wants me to keep this a secret, is there anything I should be wary of, Wayne?”

Wayne has his blushing under control by this point and shakes his head, “No. Eddie’s Steve is a good boy, he just needs an extra hand at the moment.” It’s Eddie’s turn to blush at Eddie’s Steve, suddenly deciding that he doesn’t want to know what Wayne thinks of their bed-sharing arrangement after all.

“Okay, your word is enough,” Catherine says simply. “Eddie, do you want to show me the patient?”

“Ah, that’s me,” Steve says, standing in the bedroom doorway, his hand running through his hair. “Thank you for this, Eddie and Wayne have a lot of good things to say about you and I appreciate the help.”

“Right,” Catherine says brusquely, though Eddie wonders if that light dusting of pink over her cheeks is at the idea of Wayne talking about her. “Eddie said you have lacerations on both sides? Wayne, move over and let the boy take a seat. I won’t be crouching down while he slouches on the couch.”

Wayne hurriedly moves with a mutter that sounds like I’ll just get cleaned up then. He disappears like a gust of smoke while Steve takes his stool, shamelessly pulling off his shirt in an easy movement that leaves Eddie wondering whether it’s based on the familiarity of a jock regularly disrobing in the lockers or simply from the confidence that comes from looking that good. Despite the slashes of black and the still red pockmarks, his shoulders are broad, arms firmly muscled, and the thick pelt of his chest hair makes Eddie want to bite something. Preferably Steve.

He clears his throat and Eddie looks up to see a smirk spreading across his handsome face, “Does it look that bad?”

“Stevie, you’ve never looked better,” Eddie says honestly. He moves past them to get a drink, mouth suddenly dry. “Catherine, you want a coffee or water while I’m here.”

“No, hon,” she says, bending over to inspect Steve. “You’ve had them in for about three to four weeks?”

“You can tell, huh,” Steve observes wryly.

She hums, “They’re irritated but not infected, and past due to be taken out. It shouldn’t be a problem, but it may hurt a little more than usual; the skin has probably healed onto the sutures more than we’d like.”

“Will that need extra care?” Eddie asks, sipping his water.

Steve smiles slyly, “Show her your first-aid bag, Eddie.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially to Catherine, “It’s a big one.”

Catherine snorts and eyes Steve with renewed interest while Eddie flushes red and flees to his bedroom. Maybe he will show Catherine, respected nurse of Forrest Hills, the preciously built kit that he had put together for ungrateful, injury-prone boys. He walks back into the living room in time to hear Catherine let loose a peal of laughter, Steve’s chuckles following softly behind.

They look over at him, framed in the hallway and holding the bright green bag with its white cross and burst into laughter again. Eddie frowns, “Why do I have the feeling the joke’s on me?”

Catherine snorts, gloved hands efficiently snipping at the thread and tugging them out with her hooked scissors. Steve’s amusement is cut short by an involuntary flex of his stomach and a quiet hiss.

“No, not really. Steve here was just telling me about how you looked after him. And I never realised how much you take after your uncle: he has a caring streak a mile wide too.” Eddie sees that Wayne has settled himself in the armchair in the far corner of the living area, but the newspaper in front of his face isn’t high enough to hide the pleased smile that spreads at the corner of his mouth.

“It sounds like you did a good job, though,” Catherine continues. “Open up your kit, show me what you used and how you went about it.”

Steve’s eyes are squinted a little in pain so Eddie hams it up, telling the heroic story of a medic faced with a wily young soldier dodging and twisting away until Eddie had tied him to a chair and applied his nefarious tools of healing.

“Oh, Eddie, I don’t need to know that much about your private life,” Catherine hums, sending a wink Wayne’s way.

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve’s, daring to look for his reaction to the suggestion of the two of them engaging in bondage. Rather than the humour that he expects, Steve is staring at Eddie with an intense, burning gaze that starts to draw a similar heat under his own skin. Eddie’s vision becomes tunnelled and, like being drawn to the fire flickering above a candle, he can’t look away from the dark desire curling through Steve’s eyes.

That is until Catherine tugs particularly hard on one stubborn stitch, causing Steve to wince and flinch away. They both look down to see him sluggishly bleeding in some of the areas from the now-removed silk threads. Catherine notes the sudden concern on Eddie’s face, “That looks worse than it is; he’ll be fine once we clean him up.”

She disinfects the area and Eddie can see that the bleeding has already stopped. While she smooths fresh dressings over Steve’s closed wounds, Eddie takes the moment to pack his bag and cool himself down from that odd moment with Steve.

“You did exactly what you should have,” Catherine tells Eddie, “And I’m impressed you remembered the gloves. Though wash your hands before you go touching everything next time and your equipment too. You ever thought about getting into nursing yourself?”

Eddie is a little flummoxed at the idea and says the only thing that’s ever occurred to him in relation to an actual career. “Uh, never. Not sure what I’m going to do in the future, really. Hoping rock star will pan out.”

Catherine straightens, piling the waste from her materials into a small disposable bag. She shoots him a stern look over it. “There’s nothing wrong with dreams, but it’s good to have a sensible back-up.” He sees Wayne nod to himself in the background, the traitor. “How about I lend you some of my old textbooks? You can look up suturing since you have some experience in it now. If you find it interesting, maybe think about giving nursing a shot. Lord knows we could always use more people that care.” She pulls her white plastic gloves off with a snap.

Eddie feels a flattered warmth spread through his chest; no one had ever looked at metalhead, drug-dealing Eddie Munson and said that they thought he’d be good at a profession. Even Wayne—who loves him deeply—has been doubtful about how Eddie can transfer his love for his hobbies and other passions into real-world currency.

A little tendril of hope tugs his mouth into a shy smile, “Yeah, that’d be cool. Thanks.”

Catherine stays for a mug of coffee and Eddie is surprised to watch as Steve joins her on the couch. Along with Wayne, the three of them chat about the everyday goings-on at the hospital and plant.

He snorts when Steve cattily observes that Wayne’s workplace kitchen nemesis is probably going to remain single with a dozen cats if he’s that slovenly at home. Catherine snickers and proceeds to share the atrocious habits of her own coworkers, shattering Eddie’s faith in the purity of those in the medical profession.

Content to be in the middle of some of his most favourite people as they chatter and laugh, Eddie settles cross-legged on the floor. He doesn’t know why it surprised him, to see Steve so social. The guy was formerly the leader of not just one but two sports teams: a role ostensibly requiring a certain amount of people skills.

Steve likes it too, he can see. The easy back and forth of conversation lighting his features. Eddie thinks he could freeze the picture of Steve tipping his head back in laughter and keep it forever, stored in a secret pocket over his heart; a precious image to turn to for when Steve leaves once again.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

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[alterrune]

Emperors Abyss

Mission 2 of 6: Golden Handshake

Details: The Toppat Radical’s had just torn up a city just so they could eliminate one of the Toppat Clan’s High Ranking Leaders, Édouard Labarthe. The city has been reduced to nothing but a warzone, and GEOGRAM Personnel is attempting to keep Édouard safe. We need the full support of the Toppat Clan for this mission. Édouard is in an armored vehicle and we are attempting to extract him by the beach via air transport. We will need 2 members of the Colorstreak Battalion in Aircraft, another 2 in Ground Vehicles, and 1 with the VIP Édouard in his personal vehicle.

Complications:

Enemies Unmarked: The Toppat Radical’s has used jammers to block out satellite links. Because of this, all allies and enemies are marked as unknown and difficult to identify to due toe time of day being night, let alone the massive storm taking place. You must manually identify Toppat Clan Members (Friendly), GEOGRAM Personnel (Friendly), and Toppat Radicals (Enemy). This goes over to ground personnel, aircrafts, vehicles, and boats.

Defend VIP: Édouard is valuable for the operation against The Toppat Radicals, he must be protected at all costs. If he dies, the mission is a failure.

Enforcers: Terence has equipped his people with protective armor and weaponry, they’re not screwing around just trying to kill Édouard, be careful and do not let your guard down.

CHAPTER 3, ACT 6: THE ABYSS DEEPENS

(Alter and Vi are in the air, Henry and Ellie are on the ground, and I'm in the VIP car defending Édouward. We marked all members of GEOGRAM and the Toppat Clan as "Friendly" before we left. However, this man is very---)

Hey! Do not ignore me! Why are you just staying silent, huh? Explain zat, mon ami!

(---yeah, that. Annoying. Annoying the ever-loving piss out of me. He's constantly trying to belittle me. And I'm about one insult before I---)

Are you deaf, you stupid fool?! I asked you to explain yourself!!!

(---y'know what? FUCK. THIS. SHIT. I immediately slam the breaks on the vehicle and turn to him with my gun aimed dead-center at his forehead.)

Unless you want to meet your maker right here and now, I suggest you shut your fucking piehole before I shut it myself.

Meep.

That's what I thought. Now, do us all a favor and SHUT UP ALREADY.

(I immediately turn the vehicle back on, but it seems as though Terence's lackeys have caught up to us. However, it seems Alter and Vi have a way to get us out of this.)

Kyle! There's a tanker up ahead of the Radical's fleet!

Shoot at it and they should scatter.

(Me, Henry and Ellie all shoot at the tankers...which EXPLODE, taking out the Radicals' vehicles. Luckily, the armored vehicles withstand the explosion and continue moving.)

Oh man, I thought it was a WATER truck...

Was that a refrence to Captain America: Civil War, Vi?

Hey, you're not the only one who can pull pop-culture references outta their ass!

Okay, we should be reaching the extraction point now! How about we have a little fun in the sun before we go?

Don't have to tell me twice, Henry! Let's go!

(Whoo boy, that took a bit, but we did it! And I got to give that snooty, hoity-toity, holier-than-thou fuckface a reality check, too, so I feel like this was worth my time. Mission accomplished, bitches.)

CHAPTER 3, ACT 6 COMPLETE!

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "Beach Party"

DISPLAYING EPILOGUE...

What do you mean, "Édouward escaped"?!

Just what I said, sir.

You bloke. I oughta choke you out and fuckin' replace you with someone who can do better.

Jerry. Why am I not suprised you're with him...?

(As if by magic, Earl Grey appears, who wasn't expecting to see his brother working with Terence, but isn't terribly suprised by it.)

Earl, get out of my sight. I am not your brother anymore.

Oh, trust me, feeling's fucking mutual. After you betrayed GEOGRAM the way you did, I have a hard time considering we were EVER related.

What the hell are you---

(Earl holds up his hand as if to say "Silence, I'm still talking.")

But, I digress. I'm here to deliver this to Terence. A note, courtesy of the Colorstreak Battalion. The five of them have asked you all to go fuck yourselves. Goodbye, Jerry, you disgrace of a brother.

(Earl leaves as Terence unfolds the note.)

Hey, Terence! We're currently enjoying a day at the beach, sipping some beverages and enjoying some food here, celebrating YOUR latest loss at our hands. If you really think you can win this, then buckle up, motherfucker. Because this ride's about to get real bumpy.

Hope to see you in hell,

Kyle Gibbons ✍🏼

Alterrune 🔺

Violet Wolfsbane 💜

Henry Stickmin 🔵

Ellie Rose 💕

(Terence crumples up the note in anger, then tosses it in his jacket pocket.)

GODDAMNIT! Alright, c'mere, Jerry. You're gonna initate the next part of our plan.

But, sir, we don't exactly know what's ahead of us and---

DID I STUTTER, YA DAFT FUCKER?! GET OFF YA FUCKIN' DUFFS, GET ON YA FUCKIN' KNACKERS, AND GET TA FUCKIN' WORK!

YES SIR!!!

(Jerry hasn't seen Terence snap like that before. Whatever is going on is leaving Terence in a worse mood than usual...but just what could it be?)

I SAID---!

YES SIR, I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!

(Finding out what it is, however, will clearly have to wait until Terence is in a better mood.)

END OF EPILOGUE

[invisiblegarabgetruck]

I doubt Rick Prime is actually dead, no he's still alive cause he's immortal and also he's too cute and amazing to die (and after he regenerates he's going to seek comfort in hermit jerry's soft tiddies 🥺)

S7E5 Spoilers!

tbh now that you mention it, I'm curious about what exactly makes prime immortal in the first place? was he able to regenerate because of the 'backup' before Evil Morty deleted all of those? (and what will my evil boy do with them?) and now he is back to a normal person?

Or maybe he COULD and this it will be a twist the writer pulls when the show rating not doing well

though I always feel like he is going to die in the end, just not this soon. 😂😂

but if he comes back I wouldn't complain either 🙏

also yes, Hermit Jerry's boobies will heal everything 🥺

[fabianvalencia561]

(This was a bit late ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ )

*It was an unfortunate time... It was time for Rosetta to go.*

Rosetta: ..... I know you don't want me to leave.... But I have to...

Jerry: .... *He sighs heavily* .... I know.... I know...

Rosetta: Alright....*She walks up to him and hugs him tight* Make sure you don't let your anger out of your control.... I know it's hard for you.... But you need to calm down and don't let your mind take advantage of you like that..... You still have Mike to take care of....

Jerry: *he was quiet for a bit and then he sighs* .... I'm trying... I'm going to be trying my best to make sure that I'm calm....

Rosetta: Good ..... Please keep Mike safe... And remember to keep-

Jerry: of course I will keep him safe... *He hugs her tight* and I remember.... Trust me... I learned to take care of Mike.. while you weren't doing your best... And when you were gone....

Rosetta: ........ Yeah...... *She kept on hugging him tightly*

*They talked for a while and then eventually Rosetta faded away and went back to the place she needed to be. Though there was a single blue feather for Jerry to keep.*

Jerry: ..... Goodbye..... Rosetta... *He gently held the feather tightly.*

*Jerry was standing there quietly. Then he started to feel horrible...his body began to hurt a lot.... Jerry started to get very lightheaded and then before he could do anything.... Everything went dark.*

*It felt like Jerry was in the darkness for a few minutes. Jerry began to feel a very painful tightness around his body especially around his neck it felt like he was getting forcefully strangled with a rope. Eyes began to appear just staring at him some seemed very happy to see him suffering this horrible demise.*

Jerry: !!!!- *He tried to scream but it was like he was forced to not talk*

*Jerry kept looking around fast to see the eyes just looking at him as he tried to get the rope off his neck. Then Jerry sees these eyes.... These green eyes that never blinked... They were full of hate and anger.... It wanted Jerry dead and wanted Jerry to suffer.*

Jerry: *His eyes widen as he knew the eyes* .....Father......

*Then everything went quiet. Jerry hits the ground hard as the ropes are taken off of him. He tries to get up but then he hears a voice*

Corrupted Leader: ..... I heard you and Proteus talk .... You don't want to be a corrupted?.... You don't want to be part of this family? You don't care about us....

Jerry: !!!- No no no no no no... Father please I-

Corrupted Leader: YOU HATE US! YOU DON'T LOVE THIS FAMILY!!?!! ....... *Sigh*.... You don't care about me... Anymore....? *He said with a sad voice* .... .... I missed when you were just a little boy.... When I bought you back... You were so kind.... You cared about us..... But now.... I regret even letting you live this long... *He snaps his fingers*

*Hands began to grab Jerry and they hit him to the ground hard and began to tear away his back out his skin, muscle, and tissue slowly and painfully ripping apart from his own body*

Jerry: *He screamed loudly as he cried loudly for help* FATHER!!!! PLEASE DON'T GO! I PROMISE I WON'T MISBEHAVE ANYMORE!! I PROMISE I'LL LISTEN TO YOU PLEASE!!!! *he begged and screamed* FATHER PLEASE!!

*The hands successfully tore Jerry up into two. Jerry cried loudly in pain*

Corrupted Leader: *He walks up to Jerry and looks down at him* ....... Then you better start behaving.... This is a warning..... *He stomped on Jerry's head which caused brain matter to go everywhere.*

Jerry: !!!!- *GASP!!!* ...... *He was shocked..... He was breathing fast*. ..... I.... I-I....

Jerry: *he felt his wrist and neck burning as now there was a red mark.... It was a warning.* .......... I.... *He began to cry* .... I'm sorry..... I'm sorry..... *He was scared... He doesn't want to die.... He doesn't want to leave Mike like that* ..... I'm sorry.....

*For a while Jerry was trying to keep his head calm and then he stands up and tries to call D10...... Nothing....*

Jerry: ..... He's probably still pissed off... That I never told him that I'm corrupted *He thinks to himself* ......

*At Toby's house*

Donald: So how's the little lad?

Toby: Thomas is doing well.... Though we should all keep an eye on him....

Harold: uhm... Remind me why Donald is here again? I'm not trying to be rude of course....

Toby: Donald used to be a doctor... Until he moved away from the mainland....

Harold: oh... Well I didn't know about that... *He clears his throat* ..... So.... Is Oliver here with you or is he just visiting..?

Donald: Aye... He's with me.... Hmm... But you guys should keep an eye on him... Oliver hasn't been feeling good lately....

Harold: .... Yeah... I can tell... Toad is keeping distance from Oliver...

Toby: .... That's.... Weird.... Those two are always seen with each other...

Donald: Hmm... Just make sure you guys keep an eye on him....

Toby: alright we'll also tell D10...

Henry: Wait D10'S here? Why so?

Toby: He was asking us questions.. like if we saw anything weird...

Henry: hmm... He should ask Hiro.. he looks around the second and main Sodor islands all the time.... Which I tell him all the time to not to do that... I worry about Hiro....

*D10 was in Toby's shed trying to fix his own core.*

D10: *he was mumbling to himself* Stupid core... I don't want to faint on everyone.... *He hears something at the shed entrance* !!!!- ....

Oliver: ..... D10?...

D10: Oliver?..... *He was still trying to fix his core*

Oliver: ...... *His eyes widen* .... Uhm.... Do you need help?

D10: *he sighs and nods his head* Yes .... Be careful now.... I don't want to faint...

*Oliver began to help out D10*

D10: ok.... Now.. I need you to hold my core for a bit so I can fix this.....

Oliver: .... Alright... *He said in a quiet voice* .....

*Oliver started to get a horrible thought. He slowly tightens his grip on the core..... He wanted to tighten his grip on the core more and more and more*

D10: *He slowly fixed his core* Alright..... Alright.... Oliver you can let go now.....

Oliver: ........

D10: Oliver?....

Oliver: ............................

D10: .... Oliver...

Oliver: !!!- uh! Huhh....

D10: my core... Can you please give me my core???

Oliver: .... O-oh.... Yeah.... Sorry... *He gives D10'S core back* ....

D10: thanks Oliver... Now... We should get out of this shed...

Oliver: right... Right....

..... :]

[lala1267]

Don't forget me (Part 4)

Summary: kiss and make up

Warnings: mentions of SH, throwing up, alcoholism.

Notes: it's kinda shit since I wrote this at 3 in the morning the other day.

Elvis and his buddies drove around in a black car with tinted windows. The car was going at a dangerously high speed. But Elvis needed to find Rosie, his Rosie. They drove down every street, road, and highway. Elvis's breath quickened as his heart pounded against his ribcage. He regretted every bad thing that he ever did to Rosie. He let the fame get to him. He rolled down the tinted window as he scanned the moonlit alleyways. His eyes settled on a small figure. He squinted his eyes as he waved his hand at Jerry as a way of telling him to stop the car. He quickly opened the door and rushed over to the mysterious mistress. She was passed out. Her hair was messy, and her mascara smudged. An empty bottle of liqour rested on the coble floor beside her. Elvis bent down to her level. He examined her before gradually cupping her face. He moved her head so that he could see if it really was..

"Rosie!"

He exclaimed. Fear coursed through his body as tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never seen her in such a bad state. She looked dead. He dragged her motionless body into his arms. He picked her up bridal style. His hot breath hit her cold, pale face that was lit by the moonlight. A few tears dropped onto her form Elvis's eyes. Elvis scurried back over to the car and placed her in the backseat with the boys. Sonny Red held her so that her unconscious body wouldn't move around. The boys eyes widened as they saw her.

"Is she d-dead?"

Jerry asked as he bagan to drive.

"I don't know what happened to her, j-just go to the hospital."

Elvis said with a muffled voice as he held his head in his hands. He felt guilty, he felt that this was his fault.

Within no time, they had already got her in a hospital bed, and the doctors were examining her. Elvis sat in the waiting room patiently with the Memphis Mafia. His leg bounced up, and down as he bit his nails. He stared at the clock as the minutes passed. Finally, a nurse approached him. She bent down to speak to him since he was seated.

"She passed out due to an excessive amount of alcohol in her system. We are going to have to keep her overnight just in case anything comes up. But you are free to stay here with her if you like."

Elvis quickly nodded as he stood up and rushed over to the room. She lay on the hospital bed like a sleeping beauty. Her long black hair spralled out over the fluffy pillow as her rosy cheeks made her look slightly more...alive. her long black eyelashes and her perfect pink lips enhanced her soft appearance. She had a face like an angel, but she was cursed with the worst memories. Elvis slowly walked towards her. Tears filled his eyes and dropped to the floor. He bent over the hospital bed to place dozens of kisses on her soft skin. His hand played with her hair as he whispered the word 'sorry' at least a hundred times.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never thought that t-this would happen."

He whispered with his shaky breath into her ear. He sat himself down on the chair beside the bed. He watched her in silence as a million thoughts rushed through his head. He covered his mouth with his trembling hand as he cried in silence. His whimpering slowly faded as he fell asleep. Only the sound of the hospital equipment beeping was left.

He woke up and instantly went to check on Rosie, who was still asleep. He placed a kiss on her forehead before he walked over to the telephone that hung on the wall. He dialled a number and twisted the spiralled cord around his finger as he patiently waited.

"Hiya Jerry, could ya get lots of bouquets of flowers and lots of gifts and decorations. Bring them into Rosies hospital room. Make sure to get her expensive gifts, though. Use the money that I left on the kitchen counter."

He said before placing the phone back on its stand. He slumped over in the chair as he patiently waited.

______________________________________

Rosie slowly opened her eyes. She looked around at the blurred room that was covered in red and pink. She furrowed her brows in confusion. She blinked a few times before her vision was finally restored. She saw dozens of bouquets of pretty flowers and hundreds of bags of designer gifts. She looked around to see the word "sorry" in big letters. She shifted her eyes to Elvis, who stood in the corner of the room, watching her reaction. Her heart turned cold as she grunted and hid herself under the covers. Elvis rushed over to her and pulled the covers off her.

"Hey, baby, why ya running from me?".

"Go away."

She said through her teeth as she shot him down with her menacing eyes.

"Look, I'm ever so sorry. I swear to God that I will never let you down again, I swear, Rosie."

Rosie's face softened as she looked at his watery eyes. He brought his hands to her face. She felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She needed affection and love, Elvis's affection and love. She quickly wrapped her arms around him before sobbing into his chest as she pulled onto his t-shirt. She felt lost without him, and she was overwhelmed with emotions. She pulled away to look up at him.

"T-thank you so m-much."

She said as her voice shaked. Elvis smiled sweetly, and so did she. He held onto her hand before helping her step out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She struggled to gain her balance, but with Elvis's hands to keep her steady, she was fine. He led her over to the gifts. She sat on the floor with Elvis next to her. Elvis looked at her hospital dress.

"Nice outfit."

He said sarcastically.

"Oh shut up."

Rosie said as she rolled her eyes and laughed. Elvis handed her a gift bag. She opened it carefully and pulled out a shiny necklace with the name 'Rosie' moulded into it. It was studded with real diamonds that shimmered in the light. Rosie's jaw dropped as she examined the expensive item that was basically foreign to her. Elvis giggled at her reaction.

"Elvis, this is too expensive."

She whispered yelled.

"No, it's not, I'm Elvis Presley."

He said rather arrogantly. Rosie laughed at his ego before she continued to open the gifts.

A few days later

Rosie sat in Elvis's lap as him and The Memphis Mafia discussed business. Her long hair got tangled in Elvis's long fingers as one of his hands held onto her hip. She laughed as Jerry cracked a joke or when Elvis tickled her belly. Elvis looked at her with lust in his eyes. He loved that she was so cute and pure, but she wasn't innocent or naive. She was exposed to a dark world of cigarettes and blades at a young age. Ever since Elvis saw her mutilated thighs, he would be extremely protective. He would always be around her so that she wouldn't lay her hands on any sharp objects that she could butcher herself with. He hadn't talked to her about it since he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Ever since that day she wore tights or trousers. She wouldn't dare to wear a bikini.

Elvis continued to admire her side profile. The way her nose was perfectly straight and her lips were full, and plump made a tingle rise in him. He pulled his fingers out of her black velvet hair. He rested his hands on her thigh, gently moving it up and down. Rosie gasped quietly as she froze like ice. She gulped as she swallowed the salty tears at the back of her throat. She quickly pushed his hand off as she plastered a pathetic smile on her face. Elvis suddenly realised what he had done. He moved closer to her ear.

"I'm sorry honey."

He whispered as his puppy eyes gave an apologetic look. She looked at him as all of the memories came flooding back. She felt a sudden wave of nausea come over her. A spicy feeling lurked in the back of her throat slowly creeping up to her mouth. She turned away from him before gagging. She instantly covered her mouth with her hand in hopes of stopping her insides from pouring out of her mouth. She stood up.

"Will yall excuse me."

She said before rushing out of the room. She ran to the downstairs bathroom and opened the door before slamming it shut. She grasped onto her long hair to keep it in place as she hunched over the toilet. Before she could blink, gallons of puke escaped her mouth. The men that sat in the room had concerned faces as they heard the sounds of gagging and splashing.

"What the fu-"

Elvis said quietly before getting up from the cream coloured sofa. He rushed over to the door, nocking loudly.

"Are ya ok in there?"

He inquired.

No response, only the sound of her coughing.

"Rosie, talk to me."

He said as he attempted to twist the golden door knob.

"I-im ok."

She said quietly as she cleaned herself and the toilet up. She washed her face thoroughly with cold water. Elvis sighed before she opened the door. He looked down at her as she looked up. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked half dead. He instantly brought her into a hug.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Rosie. I didn't mean to touch your thigh."

He whispered as her face was buried in his chest.

"It's ok."

See managed to muffle out. He held her as if she were a baby. From that day, he made it his life mission to keep her safe, no matter the circumstances.

She wasn't depressed or anything like that. She just couldn't escape her sick memories. She felt guilty that she had left her mother with her phsyco father, for all Rosie knew she could be dead.

[heldflesh]

TALES OF SABRY — FAIRUZ IBRAHIM.

──  (  tamino.  genderqueer,  he / they.  )  recently  seen  trapezing  across  a  lone  stage,  spotlights  dancing  off  beaded  sweat  –  audience  a  crowd  of  one,  half - asleep  or  otherwise  dead,  spirit  rising  from  still  body  in  a  chant;  encore,  encore!  bravo!  at  verve:  enter  FAIRUZ  IBRAHIM  SABRY.  twenty  six  years  old  &  a  scorpio,  usually  observed  in  tits  out;  slivers  of  chainmail  barely  concealing  loving  shark - bites  alongside  rib,  fishnet  your  only  true,  loyal  companion  –  starfish  spurs  against  heeled  boots;  aquamarine  could  never  ;  fairuz  is  a  devotion  visitor  known  within  their  circle  as  MADCAP  +  GRANDIOSE,  a  perpetual  hum  of  knife  prty  by  deftones  on  salted  mouth.  something  of  the  HUBRISTIC  +  CAVALIER  follows,  regardless  …  something  to  do  with  an  incessant  need  to  entertain  and  please,  for  oneself  and  for  others,  one  complete  theatrical  act  ,  perhaps  ?  strange,  what  a  SIREN  can  get  up  to.  they’ve  been  heard  waxing  lyrical  about  a  dream  they  had  recently,  a  strange  tale  of  lightning  against  stark  red  sea;  no  tell  of  morning  from  night  –  only  fools  dare  to  cross  the  threshold;  scaled  body  wrapped  around  splintering  wood,  ichor  flowing  from  lip  and  chest  –  harpoon  a  stake  upon  self  .  pay  no  mind  to  fanciful  star  -  gazing,  though:  rather,  mind  the  tangible.  focus  on  defense  being  a  performance  in  itself,  accusatory  points  towards  a  faceless  jury  and  judge  in  the  checkout  line  of  a  mini  mart  –  i'm  innocent,  your  honor!  hear  my  pleas,  hark  my  –  cue  one  dragged  away  by  smoothed  heels,  threats  brimming  lips  /  insatiable  hunger  and  the  habit  of  playing  with  ones  food  –  thoughts  bubbling  mid - air,  tom  and  jerry  sequence  of  cat  and  mouse,  mallet  to  head  –  cuckoos  circling;  almost  as  satisfying  as  the  kill  /  and  bone  an  accessory  –  so  sustainable  chic!  –  fish  spine  piercing  cartilage,  ribs  lining  lobe  –  cuffs  of  mysterious  vertebrae,  drilled  and  filed  and  –  .

... mentioning themes of IMPLIED MAN - EATING, SLIGHT BODY HORROR, INJURY, DEATH, and RESURRECTION. proceed with care.

with palms held out.

full name — fairuz ibrahim sabry.

nickname(s) — ruse, in a poor attempt to give himself a nickname ( did not stick ); pretty boy; puck ( perked up chee– ); narcissus, after method acting too hard– austin butler who?; others yet to be seen.

date of birth & age — october 29th, 19xx, physically twenty6.

gender / pronouns — genderqueer; he / him & they / them preferred, all welcomed.

sexuality — bisexual.

typing — siren, slut of the sea ( affectionate ).

occupation — unfortunate thespian; one man act; professional ( ? ) clown; cashier at oracle & oddysey.

astrology — scorpio sun, aries moon, leo ascending.

interests — cheap thrills. spotlight - induced sweat. anything that gleams or sheens, skin included. red meat & red wine & red lipstick in a very real, very french way. fishnet for more reasons than none. garnering attention. burlesque clowns. being a burlesque clown. six seas, don't bring up the seventh.

aversions — "deep" feelings. "deep" conversations. forced intellectualism, you can be pretentious and stupid! skeptics & nonbelievers. taxes. tax collectors. attention seekers, there can only be one ( it's them ).

next in queue — girls on film, mindless self indulgence; pain, boy harsher; slow, depeche mode; talking in your sleep, the romantics.

notable features — what's not to notice? knife - like teeth and an old scar where they nip into bottom lip every too - wide grin & lazy clown make - up; a triangle beneath every eye ( only two, for now ).

general disposition — too grand and generally delusional, but they wear it very well.

last known location — lifting himself back onto the rocks in a siren - dwelled cave like a baywatch wannabe, only to slip upon the surface and back into the water. hasn't emerged since out of hurt ego and deeply hitting embarrassment.

scrying mirror & kindred — mercutio ( romeo & juliet ), dorian gray ( the picture of dorian gray ), oberyn martell ( game of thrones ), theodore laurence ( little women ), emma woodhouse ( emma ).

what lurks in the past...

time is trivial beneath the ocean's surface; light no longer refracting, only vast blue encasing the young. first memory - first consciousness, an array of bubbles; thrashing and struggling, god mother's serpentine body wrapping around and around until all is still once more, until only bone is left to drift further down the depths.

their behavior is pack - like, school of sirens circling coasts like sharks, symbiotic and one; homes made of shipwrecks and reefs, underground caves and trenches, close to docks and ports and harbors, convenience - store runs for sailors and captains. it's rare that they break surface, walk among humans - entertainment best between selves and their food; happy meals best accompanied by toys.

fairuz is both alike and unalike them; a penchant for the finer, rawer things in life, metallic tang behind each sharp tooth, and a growing boredom, tree - like in their sternum. branching, rooting - blooming dissatisfaction with each coast they distance from. the sea felt stagnant, while every breach of ripple upon surface revealed new buildings - years meaningless to them, but everything to land dwellers.

curiosity, was all it was; curiosity all that killed them. separating from pack, intrigued by talks of a circus near - shore, a different sort of spectacle than drama between sister sirens ( they gave a mermaid's purse to you? but they gave one to me! you slu - ); fairuz became enthralled with the faeries who spun from silk, the witches who swallowed fire only to shoot fireworks from tongue - the ringleader whose smile pierced through every one of fairuz' hearts.

their visits upon land became more frequent, trailing the traveling troupe whenever able; need an incessant itch beneath their scales, a match against their ever - growing hunger. quick snacks became one, then two - doubling with each town or city swam across.

fairuz never heed the warnings of a red sky, human paranoia no toll upon their body; still broke surface, that fateful day, lightning serving them well - ship an oyster cracked wide, ready for taking. their hunger barely satiated when a whistle sung from behind; not a warning, but the sound of air tearing as a harpoon spit from its gun and ripped into their scaled flesh.

the sky was no longer red; no longer anything, the ocean's pressure luring them into their endless slumber; reminiscent of their youth, when they welcomed the sea's warm embrace like their own mother's. comfortable. warm. safe. do you wish to live, siren?

voice clear as day; like a whisper into their ear, soft and urging. you can live forever, if you please. if their consciousness was still awake - fairuz would've found the humor in being siren - called; instead, their spirit stirred inside them, hands pressed upon their former living shell. let us save you. let us free you. just say yes.

sirenkin, their family: the choice to leave was no one's but fairuz', one of their few regrets in life; visiting sirens of devo, do you know this fucker?

righteous fishermen with penchants for revenge: slow your rolls - fairuz' is just a little guy, a little fella! and they should be dead! right? ... right?

...comes to light in present...

five years resurrected, five years given to delphinium's traveling, theatrical circus troupe and one would've never guessed; a puzzle piece fitting just right against an entirely wrong picture, the epitome of a live, laugh, love sign hung crooked against a contemporary farmhouse kitchen wall - fairuz dazzles all. or pisses them off - either, or - all of the above; attention is attention, and fairuz craves it almost as much as they crave fle-

they awake the same everyday; a life - rattling exhale of breath, gasping and hoarse like the first time they reopened their eyes; almost comedic, hand trailing to the star - like scar upon their chest - a tale better left unsaid, in accordance to delphinium. they know best - better than fairuz, at least; knows what secrets are best kept, while fairuz spills open at any given moment, at any curious glance.

he's all emotion; nothing cool, nothing collected - only extravagant, demanding; eyes on them at all times. dramatics started at the blink of a single one of those eyes - constantly performing for an unknown audience, never caring if others are swept up by his current. takes good intentions and swallows them for his own benefit; you wouldn't trust a god, would you?

the circus settled in devotion just short of a few months ago; no signs of leaving yet - performances weekly, each and every weekend and occasionally wednesdays, if audience demands then who are they to gatekeep? fairuz lurks beneath the sea's rippling surface some days - sleeps behind the counter of oracle & oddsyey's other days; a siren needs a little spending money, after all; especially him, pockets usually barren and closets overflowing. otherwise can be found wherever there's a crowd.

traveling circus troupe [ menacing voice from behind, hey sis- ]: fairuz' found family. faeries and witches and humans and sirens and nymphs alike, all welcomed as long as they harness talent. don't ask why fairuz' is there; only delphinium knows.

a horde of angry lovers: a necessity in every town, devotion no different. fairuz is more wrong than right, would rather end up in a second grave than admit it.

...and carries into the future.

how long can a corpse walk for, before their magic runs out? before they've stolen all the energy left inside, until blood is shed once more - theirs and others, and others and theirs. prophecies tell of moon falling back into sea and never - rising once more, fallen on unwilling ears - fairuz' mostly, forever pig - headed, too busy gazing upon reflections.

how many enemies, can one make? scorned lovers of lovers, scorned friends betrayed for the slightest whim, abandoned on impulse. scorned family - sick of antics, of fairuz' thoughts that only revolve around himself.

fairuz never worries of the future. but perhaps they should.

prophecy - spewing nymphs: they heed not their warnings, demise be damned - you'd think fairuz would know better by now.

friends to enemies: a eventual happening, slow at first, but like all fire - the more it grows, the farther it spreads.

[anendtopursuit]

here's some questions spam!

what do you think is the best joke in tgwdlm? which nightmare time episode is the strongest? would you vibe with any of the lords in black? opinion on webby? favorite character introduced in black friday? some people have said that the youtube version of nerdy prudes must die gets fanservice-y with its hatchetverse references - what're your thoughts? which hatchetverse couple is the most transgender in your eyes?

here ends the question spam

YEAAAA QUESTION SPAM I LOVE QUESTION SPAM!!! my laptop is currently updating and therefore i feel no shame doing this instead of my dissertation LET'S GOOO

best joke in tgwdlm? - augh, a hard one. idk if it's the BEST but i always lose it at the hivemind breaking out of unison and having to stop and find their notes/re-harmonise after not your seed (i've been there... SO many times)

strongest nightmare time episode - ok this is the part where i admit i am VERY behind on nightmare time and have only seen a few in random orders - my favourite of the ones i've seen is abstinence camp, though. i think it's a rlly strong, relatively self-contained story, and ofc i'm always down for a friday the 13th parody lmao. boy jerry and girl jeri are my little freaks and i love them (and ofc peter and steph my beloveds)

vibing with the lords in black? - i love all of them an unreasonable amount and would LOVE to hang out, honestly. i never stop singing so pokey would probably be fun company, and wiggly won my heart immediately since i LOVE possessed/evil toys (if the url wasn't a dead giveaway for that) and green is one of my fav colours. but honestly any of them!!! they're deliciously evil and i would love to chill (and then regret it when i inevitably face their torment BUT THAT'S A PROBLEM FOR FUTURE ME!)

opinion on webby - i haven't seen a ton of her but i think she's really cool, both conceptually and in the execution i have seen! i love how the visions she gives hannah are contextualised and start making sense slowly as you work through the show (which it took me AGES to figure out, admittedly, because i'm either eerily good or absolutely terrible at recalling dialogue, and fsr her prophecies always fell through my brain like a sieve)

favourite character introduced in black friday - i'm disqualifying wiggly bc we've established i love him already - honestly, it's a tie between linda monroe (one word: MOTHER) and ethan green (aka the sweetest motherfucker in hatchetfield, holy shit). i find both of their characters super compelling and also i'm very bisexual about both of them so !!!

were the npmd hatchetverse references fanservicey? - i mean... yeah? i don't super mind though, fanservice isn't inherently a bad thing. i do wish there was some way to watch a pro shot of the show as it was on stage instead (i Lost My Mind when i found out the gerald part was originally my favourite little freak boy jerry), but i've heard through the grapevine that there's apparently a way to get your hands on a digital ticket recording as a bonus feature or smthn similar, which is good enough for me. so whilst i do think they came on a little strong in some sections (particularly hatchet town), overall i didn't mind - the smaller call-backs don't really harm the show at all if you don't get them (e.g. richie's joke abt peter looking like the homeless guy downtown is still a funny jab without the knowledge of who exactly that homeless guy is and how he's related to peter) and for fans who have been waiting for years, it's an extra little reward. i've seen some people be incentivised to watch the previous shows so they'd understand the audience's reaction to certain lines, too, so there's that. tl;dr it is a LITTLE much sometimes but i don't personally mind it and thought they were all fun

most transgender hatchetfield couple - oh you are SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE, i LOVE transgenderifying characters. i think lautski (peter/steph) feel very explicitly-queer gen z t4t, if that makes any sense, but i wouldn't be me if i didn't at least mention my quietly-queer first loves paulkins (paul/emma). they're like the chill trans elders (as in the community title, not in reference to their age lmao they're like 30) to lautski's spitfire trans youth. if that makes literally ANY sense

my laptop has great timing and has now finished updating (!!!) so i must return to the trenches of university coursework but this was VERY fun thank u

[fandomwe1rd0]

the heck even happens in Rick and morty

Just gonna infodump on you cause you asked for it! Spoilers ahead! Infodump under the cut

So there is the Smith family, they are the main characters, you have Beth Smith, the alcoholic mother, Jerry Smith, the bumbling unemployed dad, Summer Smith, the badass sister, and of course Morty Smith, the 14-year-old anxiety-ridden poor boy, and the main character, Rick Sanchez, he's around 70 and is Morty's grandfather, and he has A LOT of issues. He's an alcoholic, definitely depressed, hates himself, and loves Morty more than he loves himself (Which isn't saying much since he hates himself, but still, he loves the kid a whole lot)

Ok, now we got them, I'll just quickfire everything that happens in season one, Rick has Morty shove megaseeds up his butt so they cam go through interdimensional customs with the megaseeds, and he almost gets kicked out due to pulling Mourt out of school, but the megaseeds dissolve just in time giving Morty temporary superintellgence, leading Beth and Jerry to believe that Morty spending time with Rick is making him smarter, when it's not, they leave and that opens to the first garage rant and brings up the iconic quote "100 years Rick and Morty!" Which will come back. Next Rick incepts Morty's math teacher to give Morty As in math, Scary Terry follows them, but they end up becoming his friend after Rick and Morty stop him from having a bad dream, and they get Morty's math teacher to get him an A. Next Morty goes inside a human body and tries to save anatomy park, a park inside of a human body, it breaks down at the end though soooo. Next up Rick gets trapped inside a simulation that aliens trapped him in so they can get his recipe for concetrated dark matter, the fuel for accelerated space travel. Nothing much of note, but we do get a cute protective Rick moment, when he finds out Morty was simulated, his first response was "You simulated my grandson's genitalia!? You diabolical sons of bitches!" He even tries to attack them, but is held back. Next up in a personal favorite of mine, Rick and Morty make a bet that Morty can have a simpe, fun adventure. It starts off rocky, and gets even rockier when we get to that infamous Mr. Jellybean scene, I assume I don't have to talk about it, you already know it probably. Thankfully, Rick is super sweet and understand, not only does he throw the bet so Morty will be happy, but he also kills Mr. Jellybean which has me CACKLING!

Next up is a plot important episode, Morty asks Rick for a love potion to make Jessica fall in love with him, for context Jessica is Morty's crush, Rick at first says no, but eventually relents, but since Jessica has the fuel, it spreads to the entire school, Rick comes to get Morty since he isn't affected by it, since the love potion doesn't work on any related to Morty gentically.A VERY tasteful choice in my opinion, Rick tries to fix it, but just makes a bad situation worse. Rick travels to another dimension where they died, Morty understandably freaks out, but then Rick explains the plan, they just slip into the places of their dead selves, and continue as if nothing happen. Morty is understandably traumatized from this experience, and then we move to the next episode.

Next up is a pretty meh episode, Morty gets an uhm robot, but it was actually a birthing machine, and because of this Morty gets a chld, he tries to be a good father, but fails since well, he's 14, and the baby was naturally very aggressive from the day he was born. There is a sideplot with Rick and Summer, but it's mostly just Rick being a sexist asshole

Next up is an episode I admittably really like, basically it just resolves around Rick and Morty watching interdimensional cable, and it's just nice to see them bonding, there is a pretty good side plot with the rest of their family seeing what their life could've been. Eventually Beth and Jerry divorce but get back together when they realized that they would've gotten back together in a nother dimeson. It's a very sweet scene

Next up Rick drives Summer to work and meets the devil, where his store sells cursed items, eventually he beats the devil by setting up a store that uncurses his items for cash, yeah, he's petty, and I love him. There's a side plot where Jerry goes to Pluto, but there's nothing of note there, we do however gets a sweet moment where Rick is happy to see Morty but hides it, he sees Morty and says while smiling "Hey!" then clears his throat, frowns and says "Hey." very slick Rick.

Next up is a really really good episode, its the first canon episode and it is amazing. We get to meet two iconic characters, Doofus Rick who is a precious cinnamon roll, and Evil Morty who is an evil boy. The council of Ricks think Rick is killing other Ricks, but Rick found out it was evil Morty, we also find out an important detail, Rick hangs around Morty because he uses his brainwaves as camoflague. And we also get a sweet moment where Rick cries from his memories of Morty as a baby

The last episode of season one is eh, it's not great, but it's not bad. We get to meet Rick's friends Squanchy and Birdperson but they don't do much, basically Rick just throws a house party when Beth and Jerry are out of town on their titanic themed getaway. We also get a sweet bonding moment between Rick, Summer, and Morty which is cute.

So that's season one, there are 6 more seasons, go watch it, it's great!

[noahtally-famous]

EPISODE THREE THOUGHTS

zee’s pronouns are he/they, no I don’t take criticism

the health part of me who grew up with my doctor mum is going 🤨 at priya’s breakfast-and-training regime. girl, that is not gonna be good on your stomach--you shouldn’t eat and exercise, and especially not at the same time!

kinda funny how priya and her parents’ goals are switched from the typical desi goal--instead of her parents wanting her to go to med school, priya wants to. and her parents just want her to win a reality show 😂

:0 raj and bowie interacting for the first time??? oho!

raj’s panic at splattering that goop on bowie’s shirt and trying to fix (*cough* making it worse) + bowie putting his hand over raj’s and saying it’s fine + awkward raj = adoreableness

aaaand wayne’s gonna be a cockblocker, isn’t he? 🤦‍♀️

“see you later, bowie” 🥺

I agree with you there, millie, the human race is in serious jeopardy

wayne and raj share only one braincell which bounces between them randomly

PRETTY BOY hjkdhkjhfkdfh stg literally every character in this season is some form of gay, whether they realize it or not

agreed, priya, I want him gone too, but alas 😔

chase pls stop 😭 at least apologize first, for cutting the brakes before you start making moves on emma again bc I still cannot get over the fact that you actually did that!!

ngl though ripper has a solid point: chase is your typical Pretty Boy

“yeah, he looks great-I MEAN he’s doing great!” raj, hun, the denial doesn’t look good on you

damien’s like the dj of the group--except with less adoration of animals and cooking

nichelle bby....this is painful to watch 😭

yeah mk’s def a combo of scarlett and noah. that sarcasm is def smth noah would say too

“why would you name a wig jerry?” “I think that’s the stuntman’s name” “oh yeah that makes way more sense” 

nichelle, no offense, but maybe you should have your existential crisis after winning?? 

YES SCARY GIRL, SLAY

rip jerry when nichelle gets back, you’re gonna be a dead man 

[i-am-very-heck]

gaah I have so much information bouncing around in my head about my ocs (and also some little hcs abt actual characters) .. throwing all I can put into words under a read more

Jerry

while its reckless behavior and disregard for safety may make it seem like it doesn't know what it's doing, she knows exactly what she's doing . it is fully a choice

she's very skilled at jerry-rigging things

also, she's really good at calculating/estimating what will happen if she introduces a new variable to a situation which often leads it to creating these elaborate rube goldberg machines when it's bored that work almost perfectly the first time they're run

messy coder, it usually results in her bots lashing out at her due to a bug somewhere in there, which in turn gets her hurt

if you're like 6' it can and will climb you to gain the height advantage

Ibis

he's got a bit of the cowrruption in his blood, thanks to his dad

because of this he has like, periods of intensely violent urges

the most recent of these violent times ended up with a phone booth beat the hell up, which he is not proud of at all

turned to pacifism as a way to quell the urges and has since learned some different ways to let out that energy (breaking pencils, screaming into pillows, aggressively baking, etc etc)

honestly if he had the chance he would've joined the baker boys

he's fond of goblin foods!

full of confidence

Heron

such a himbo

most of his scars post-wol are from being on the cow's side of the stampede in 1906 and he's got little stories that go along with em (which I may post later)

he had a wife at one point but sadly she died during childbirth. her name was Cherise.

burning hatred towards clowns. all his compassion goes out the window once he catches sight of one and he'll be one bad interaction away from recreating a rodeo

he loves his son so much and he's so proud of him

als when the stampede happened and all the cows went back to hell or whatever, Heron was left so far east that he had to walk back home and it took a couple months because no one would dare give him a ride home

filed down his horns when ibis was young so he didn't get hurt when playing around

still keeps in contact with gary (or at least his decendants)

S

genuinely he's like both sides of the "someone's gonna die..." "of fun!" meme

she can just shoot ppl so fast that a whole row of ppl will just drop dead once the shots are in the air

they ate a lava fava once and regretted it immediately.

when he was at gun manor things were Tense between him and florence. like she was talking about killing a ghost to a ghost ? yeah thats uncomfy

tbf florence didn't know because like, since like s was an Unnaturally occurring ghost she didn't show up on the radar thing and she didn't want to find out what that zapper did tbh

after the gun manor reckonin' they did tell florence that they were a ghost though lmao so they're all good

misc headcannons

the pencil hobo is so blorbo to me n it makes me so sad he doesn't have a name so I hc his name is Penn

als I'm hcing that the dude who works at the fission chips name is charlie because the pirate restaurant mentions how charlie (the guy above them) is hiding the true sandwiches or something