#but the guitar lessons cues too

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

frog hop 2 bops but it's also Peak Rhythm Hell for my brain cuz whenever it plays my brain's just like "what if i autofilled the cues AND also the lyrics for young love rock 'n' roll AND also the frog hop 2 guitar lesson cues" and it is extremely hellish-

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: What started as a quest to prove Eddie's 'manhood' ended with a gesture that had you hurtling towards your future--ready or not. (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, lots of bees, mention of parental illness, brief mention of sex work, finally some actual physical contact between them, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter five: float like a butterfly

For the first time since you’d started working nights, you didn’t dread the sound of your alarm ringing. You’d always appreciated its stillness, with only city noises and the occasional guest puncturing the perfect silence. There were some nights where you didn’t speak a word for the full eight hours of your shift; you just read or wrote or daydreamed until the clock struck six.

Except for last night, of course, when you’d passed the time by talking with Eddie and minimally contributed to wallpaper removal. Your mind flickered back to the way he’d placed his hand on yours. The sensation of his palm, calloused but warm, lingering a beat longer than necessary. 

The whole moment could have been deemed unnecessary, in theory. Surely he could have modeled the action on his own and then handed you the tool so you could imitate him. Was it truly to show you how to scrape off glue, or did he have a more gratuitous intention?

Shaking your head, you eschewed the idea almost as quickly as you’d considered it. He was just being polite, a rarity among most of your male guests. Maybe that's why you were so hyper-focused on it; years of clipped conversations and crude comments had you mistaking kindness for something more flirtatious.

Speak of the Devil…

Eddie stood in the lobby, his guitar case slung across his back. He kept one elbow perched on the desk as he spoke to your mom. Whatever he said was making her laugh, a genuine one that brought a light to her eyes. She noticed you first, and when she waved you over, Eddie turned around to see what caught her attention. His smile shifted from open-mouth to close-lipped, more thoughtful and discreet without losing any of its charm.

Slinging your bag off of your shoulder next to the desk, you feigned a casual demeanor and asked, “What did I miss? Serenading my mom?” You nodded towards the guitar case, biting back a smile.

Eddie shook his head, his curls falling in his face. “Tried to make a couple bucks down at the subway station.” He shrugged, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Not enough for a ticket home, but it’s a start.”

Home. Obviously he was going home. New York had nothing for him, had chewed him up and spit him out like he left a bitter taste in its mouth. He had no reason to stay.

Oblivious to your disappointment, Mom laughed again. “Mr. Munson–”

“Eddie. Mr. Munson is my uncle.”

“Eddie,” Mom quickly amended, “was just telling me about the time he ripped his pants while he was on stage.” 

Rosy red seeped into Eddie’s cheeks, evidently not expecting your mom to share that information with you. “And that was the last time I wore leather pants,” he said. “Lesson learned.”

Deeming this conclusion insufficient, you inquired further. “How exactly does one rip leather pants?” You stifled a giggle, just imagining him feeling a sudden breeze mid-concert.

“Well, ya see,” he started, crossing his arms over his faded Metallica t-shirt and smirking, “I’m what’s known as an enthusiastic performer. And as such, one might find that leather can be quite restricting.”

“So…you got really sweaty and they ripped.”

Eddie hid his face behind a curtain of curls, all but confirming your suspicions. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Heiress,” he warned with a smile, cocking his pointer finger in your direction.

Mom took that as her cue to leave, quickly clasping your hand and excusing herself. Thick tension set in without her there as a buffer. Her presence prevented any conversation from dipping too deep into flirtation; now, there was nothing stopping it. 

Except, of course, the looming fact that he was a guest. And like all guests, he was a temporary fixture in your life. 

“The new wallpaper didn’t come in yet,” you blurted out. Dad had insisted on ordering it from a family friend, saving money but forgoing the promises of timely delivery afforded by bigger suppliers. 

Eddie shrugged, unbothered by the information. “I know.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the pack in offering, but you shook your head. Without missing a beat, he put his own cigarette back and returned the box to his pocket. “Your mom was saying how excited she is for you to finish your classes and take over the motel.”

Panic flooded your lungs and constricted your breathing at the potential crisis he might have inadvertently caused. Did Mom seem upset? Her usual signs were noticeably absent: narrowed eyes, set jaw, lips painfully taut in a silent roar: we’ll discuss this later. 

There was none of that. She was laughing. Happy. Not a hint of disappointment. Yet anxiety still hooked its claws into your skin, a stinging reminder of the anvil dangling over your head. 

“You didn’t say—”

“Not a word.” Eddie waved away the thought. “Just smiled and nodded.”

Your chest went concave with relief, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug. His arms held a surprising strength, as evidenced by his wallpaper removal abilities, and you wondered how they would feel wrapped around your waist. Did he hug tightly, not letting go until all of the air had been squeezed from your lungs? Or did he prefer a softer, lazier embrace, one with a hand free to stroke up and down your back?

Why did it matter?

“Is there a reason you haven’t told them?” he asked. The sound of his voice invaded your senses, pulling you back to reality in an instant. “I mean, they seem nice enough.”

Stooping down to grab your notebook, you nodded in agreement. “That’s part of the problem, I guess.” Your teeth scraped along your tongue as you considered your words. “If they were shitty, I wouldn’t feel so bad about letting them down.”

“Letting them down?”

You nodded, feeling that familiar pit that formed in your stomach whenever this subject arose. “Yeah. I can’t be a social worker and run the motel. And if I don’t stick around, they’ll have to close this place for good.”

Eddie breathes out with a low whistle. “Pretty high stakes.”

“You can say that again.” Resting your elbows on the desk, you buried your head in your hands. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a rockstar?” you asked, your voice slightly muffled. 

He took so long to respond that you looked up, wondering if he’d up and left while you weren’t watching. 

“My dad’s, um, not in the picture, and my mom died when I was a kid,” he finally said, using his left thumbnail to pick at the right. 

“I’m sorry.” And you were: for his loss and for prying into his history. Mortification bloomed and prickled sweat under your arms, and you clenched them to your sides in a feeble attempt to hide any forming stains.

“S’okay. I mean, you didn’t know, so…” his shoulders moved up and down, his mouth drawn into a forgiving half-smile, “now you know.”

Now you know. A little slice of him, presented to you like one of the cakes the local bakery kept locked behind a pane of refrigerated glass. The ones you admired as a kid, reveling in their perfectly smooth icing and intricately piped pastel flowers. They’d always seemed too delicate to touch, so you’d skipped over them in favor of sprinkle-laden cookies.

Logically, you know that the cakes were made for consumption. All you needed to do was ask for a taste. But you could never bring yourself to ruin their beauty. Not then, and not now.

And so, as always, you stepped away and chose the easier path instead.   

“Did you really rip your pants on stage?”

Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the sudden subject change, but he recovered quickly. “Sure did. Split right down the seam.” He puffed out a short laugh through his nose. “Poor Gareth got an eyeful that night.”

“Are you sure that isn’t the real reason you left the band?” Picking up the nearest pen, you poked the capped end into his forearm. 

He play-winced, rubbing the spot the cap touched, and shook his head. “Nah, this was my high school band. Corroded Coffin.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Oh, yeah. We were terrifying.” Eddie widened his eyes in mock-horror. “The backbone of Indiana’s satanic panic, actually.”

You raised your brows. “Impressive.”

“Mhm. We only broke up because our bassist went to college out of state. Princeton.” He lowered his voice at the name as though relaying confidential information. 

“Not the Ivy Leagues!” You pressed your hand to your heart, clutching metaphorical pearls. 

Eddie grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

“I’ve heard Princeton is known for their demonic studies program, so that tracks.”

This is nice. This is easy. No mention of schoolwork, or the motel, or parents—or lack thereof. You could do this all night. 

A throat clearing followed by a hacking cough took you both by surprise. Peering over Eddie’s shoulder, you found Phyllis standing in the lobby doorway. 

“There’s a wasp nest outside my window,” she said, tugging up one drooping shirt sleeve. The odor of stale cigarettes grew stronger as she walked closer to you and Eddie; even if she quit smoking today, the pungency would always cling to her. 

Uncapping your pen, you reached into the desk drawer and grabbed the stack of Post-Its. “I’ll make a note to get some insecticide spray tomorrow,” you promised, poorly curbing your exasperation. 

If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. 

The older woman didn’t put up any argument, but Eddie was obviously displeased. “Like hell you will.” He glanced around, pent-up energy overflowing as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You got a baseball bat around here?”

Your “Uh, no,” overlapped with Phyllis’s nonchalant, “Yeah, of course,” and she left to fetch it.

A sigh escaped you, hinting at your mounting irritation. “Eddie, absolutely not,” you insisted. “Just wait till I get the spray and you can do it then.”

He clicked his tongue with a note of condescension that you didn’t particularly appreciate. “Don’t worry about it, Heiress. I’m from the Midwest; our wasps are like your rats. This’ll be nothing.” When you remained unconvinced, he adopted a teasing grin. “I don’t tell you how to do your nerd stuff, do I? So leave me to my man stuff in peace.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva. “Your man stuff?”

“Yes. Very strong and burly.” He flexed a bicep for emphasis and you threw your hands up in defeat, trying to ignore the soft fluttering in your stomach at the vein bulging through his skin.

Phyllis returned with the bat, the wooden neck clenched between arthritic fingers. “It’s right around the side,” she told Eddie. “Just look for the giant nest. And don’t forget to give this back when you’re done; I’m working tonight.” She thrust the bat into Eddie’s hand and padded back to her room, slippers thwacking against the linoleum. 

Eddie twirled the bat, threading it through his fingers and catching it smoothly. He smiled, unable to camouflage his pride. “See? I got this.” His grasp was determined without a hint of tenderness, a stark contrast to the way he’d held your hand the night prior. Tucking it underneath a denim-clad arm, he took a deep breath and pushed through the front door like he was preparing for battle.

You watched him leave, shaking your head. Evidently, he had a point to prove, but you doubted the chances of his success. Part of you wished you could leave the desk to watch him in action. Another part was relieved that you had the excuse to avoid witnessing this disaster as it unfolded.

As you predicted, not even half a minute had passed before you heard Eddie yelping, his footsteps thudding towards the motel’s entrance. He flung the door open with enough force that it smacked against the wall, scrambling to slam it shut behind him. His chest heaved under his jacket as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He swatted around his head at some lingering wasps. “Son of a bitch!”  

Sucking your tongue to your front teeth, you bit back an I-told-you-so. “How’s your ‘manhood’ or whatever?” 

Maybe that wasn’t much better than outright gloating, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

Eddie made a closed fist with only his middle finger sticking up, and he winced almost immediately. “I think one of those little fuckers got me.” He cradled one hand in the other as you walked towards him for a closer inspection. 

Sure enough, a stinger was poking out from the side of his forefinger.

Phyllis came shuffling back from her room, pink lipsticked mouth pursed in concern. “Jesus, kid. Were you trying to piss them off?” The loose skin under her neck wobbled when she chortled. “You swung at that nest like you were Babe Ruth!”

Through a tense smile, you asked her to get a soapy washcloth so you could clean out the wound before it could spark an allergic reaction. “Unless, of course, that interferes with your man stuff,” you said to Eddie, all-too happy to throw his words back in his face.

“Fuck off.” A traitorous chuckle broke through his stoic exterior despite his very real pain. His eyes followed your movements as you grabbed the first aid kit.

You took his warm palm in yours, gently turning it to assess the afflicted finger. The stinger was lodged under his skin, already turning the surrounding area an angry red. 

“Oof, he really stung you good, huh?” Your tone was all sympathy; you figured he’d gotten enough jabs from the wasps. 

Eddie gritted his teeth as you gingerly scraped at the stinger with the edge of your notebook, taking care not to squeeze out any of the venom. You tightened your grip to keep his hand in place, feeling the soft but steady thrum of his heartbeat between his wrist and his thumb’s tendon. It had a melody of its own. 

Slowly, meticulously, you eased the stinger out from where it was wedged.

“Sorry,” you said softly, noting the way his eyes clamped shut as you drew out the stinger and brushed it onto the desk. 

“S’okay.” He managed a small smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The night was still for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft but eager. 

“Tell me more about Izzy.”

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with a penchant for rapid subject changes. 

At once, your head was filled with memories of her: the pigtails held in place with thick rubber bands, the popsicle juice-stained pink t-shirt, the giggles that melted away your stress from a succession of ungrateful customers. He said something else, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts for the words to register. 

“Hmm?”

“The little girl you helped.” Eddie cocked a quizzical brow, suddenly worried that he’d remembered incorrectly. “That was her name, right?”

You nodded. “She was only there that one day. I didn’t see her again.”

Her mother was probably too embarrassed to stay any longer and found another motel. If you could go back in time, you would have reassured her, maybe even offered to watch after Izzy while she worked. You might have informed her of programs where she could find a job that didn’t put her or Izzy in harm’s way. 

Eddie continued talking, for some reason persistent in his quest for answers. “But you said she talked to you while she was drawing. About her favorite stuff?”

Phyllis returned with cloth before you could answer him, and she rested it on the desk with a sigh. “I’m gonna head out,” she said, pointing at Eddie, “but my bat better be in my room before I get back, Yogi Berra.”

He nodded, absently massaging the nape of his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” One burgundy-painted fingertip pointed at Eddie, then at you. “I like this kid.”

How do you even respond to that? An honest, ‘me, too’? An overly sarcastic, ‘he’s alright’? 

You opted for a small, unassuming smile and the reminder to be safe, which was absurd when you really thought about it. Phyllis had been doing this, as she put it, “since my tits were above my belly button,” yet you were telling her about safety. 

Bringing your attention back to the sting, you clutched the sopping wet washcloth. Phyllis apparently hadn’t wrung it out; water dripped down the side of your fingers and splashed onto the floor in an uneven plop-plop-plop. 

With an abundance of care, you swiped the cloth over the sting site. It was already starting to swell, the skin raised and angry. 

Eddie reflexively pulled away, the tension evident from the way his front teeth formed grooves in his lower lip. 

“Fuck, that hurts.” His free fist pounded into the desktop with so much force that, for a split second, you worried that he might leave a dent. 

“I know, but we have to clean it out,” you said. 

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath; you weren't sure you even wanted to know what he said. “Yeah, yeah.” He winced as the frayed fibers grazed him again. “So…Izzy?”

“There isn’t much to say,” you answer honestly. “I mean, she just told me she loved McDonalds french fries and Muppet Babies. Especially baby Fozzie Bear.”

“Anything else?”

You thought back for a moment. “Her favorite animal was dogs, but only the little ones. She said the big ones scared her because they barked too loud. Oh, and her favorite color was light purple.”

The memory is bittersweet, bathing you in both comfort and a dull ache. It was almost six years ago but the little girl had made herself at home in your mind. You thought about her on a daily basis, wondering if she and her mom were still bouncing from motel to motel, or if they’d found a permanent place to settle. Every ounce of optimism you possessed worked to help you believe that they were safe and that she didn’t remember when safety wasn’t guaranteed.

“I knew it.”

You looked up from applying calamine lotion, dabbing the pink-stained cotton ball over any excess dripping off of his finger. “Knew what?” 

“I knew you’d remember everything she told you.” His thumb relaxed and fluttered down until it rested on yours, the pad of his finger on your knuckle.

You reached for a Band-Aid before realizing that opening it required two hands. With more hesitation that you anticipated, you let go of him. “And what makes you say that?” You wrapped the bandage around his finger, careful not to press too tightly around the sting. “There. Good as new.”

Eddie smiled his appreciation. “I, um, had a similar experience when I was a kid.” He swallowed, picking at the Band-Aid until the adhesive side began to bunch up. When he allowed himself to glance at you, he saw you looking back at him, silently encouraging him to tell his story. 

“My mom got sick when I was in kindergarten. The treatment made her tired and nauseous, like, all the time; when she wasn’t sleeping, she was throwing up.” His eyes clouded over and his voice cracked slightly; he cleared his throat and continued. “I was at school one day, and the social worker asked me if I had anyone at home who washed my clothes for me. And when I told her no, she asked me to bring any clothes I needed cleaned with me the next day. So I did, and after school let out, she took me to the Laundromat.” 

If you told him that he didn’t have to keep talking, he'd stop. He’d wipe away any residual tears and excuse himself, and you’d once again spend your shift alone. And so you didn’t say anything, just stood there as his gears turned in recollection.

“She had this game: she’d hold up a piece of clothing and ask if it goes in the ‘lights’ or ‘darks’ pile, and she would get faster and faster until I was laughing too hard to answer.” Eddie exhaled a short laugh and swiped his tongue over his top teeth. “The whole time, I’m thinking that it’s all fun, that this is a normal thing that every kid did. I didn’t realize until years later that it was because my clothes smelled, y’know?” 

Sheepishness colored Eddie’s face in pink splotches as he shifted from man to boy and then back again. 

“Anyway, your story about Izzy kinda reminded me of that. And she might not remember your name or even what you talked about, but she’ll remember someone being there for her. Someone who didn’t act like she was a bother or a charity case. Just a kid who wanted to play.”

His words left you without any of your own. There was so much to digest; chiefly, your newfound glimpse into Eddie’s past. And though you’d only ever known him as an adult, you were still picturing him as a child. He sat atop a counter where others folded their clothes, his brown eyes–looking even bigger than they did presently, given his small stature–gazing up at the woman in wonderment as he giddily sorted his laundry. 

And then, of course, there was the delicately embedded compliment. The reassurance that you had been a positive force in Izzy’s life, even through one brief encounter. 

It was the only part that you could elaborate on without intruding on his privacy. He’d shared something so personal, and while you were desperate to learn more about him, you didn’t want to barge past the boundaries he had so carefully constructed.  

“Yeah, I…just wanted her to feel safe, I guess.” You’d devised a plan while you drew flowers and Care Bears in case no one showed up to find her. Everything had to be done so that she remained in the dark about the situation’s severity; you’d have Mom or Dad check the room, only calling the authorities if Izzy’s mom was unresponsive—or worse. 

In the end, there was no need for you to worry. Her mother was alert and Izzy herself was none the wiser that anything was wrong. You hadn’t even told your parents about the situation despite their potential involvement. Eddie, of all people, was the only other person who knew. 

He nodded and reached over, giving your hand a subtle, tender squeeze. 

“You did.”

Reassurance drifted through the air and clung to you like the sharp scent of tobacco on his jacket. Receiving compliments wasn’t your strongest suit, so you pivoted topics to avoid stretching the ensuing awkward silence any further. 

“The calamine lotion should help with the itching, but you can take some Benadryl if it’s still bad.” Rummaging through the first aid kit, you searched for the medication but only managed to scrounge up a bottle of expired ibuprofen. “There’s a pharmacy a few blocks down. They’ll have some there.” A little mom and pop shop that sold candy and cheap wine in addition to different over-the-counter medicines, it had been a community staple since before you were born.

The corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkled, lips turning upwards in amusement. “An heiress, a social worker, and a nurse? What can’t you do?”

That was a loaded question, and you were relieved that it was rhetorical so you wouldn’t have to list all of your shortcomings. You settled for flipping him off with an accompanying smile of your own.

“I should probably get that bat before she gets back,” he said, glancing towards the older woman’s room. He lowered his voice and continued. “She kinda scares me.”

“Oh, I definitely would not get on her bad side,” you agreed. “Phyllis’s wrath will make that wasp sting feel like a walk in the park.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” His laugh was music that stirred up a desire to dance, to be carried by the melody like a strong gust of wind, and then he was out the door.

Immediately, you were inclined to find something new to talk about when he walked back in. You’d had two days of companionship and had been spoiled by it; the thought of another night in solitude suddenly seemed lonely.

You couldn’t ask about his parents or the social worker who’d taken him to the Laundromat; that was too personal, too soon. Same with his old band. But music–his favorite songs, musicians, albums–that might be safe enough to explore.

The door opened and brought with it a cool evening breeze. Eddie returned much more confidently than he had the last time, Phyllis’s bat slung over his shoulder. 

“Apparently, I actually managed to knock the nest down,” he reported, sounding as surprised as you felt. 

He stifled a yawn, denim creasing at the elbow when he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. It was then that you noticed the way sleep tugged at his eyelids, dashing any remaining hope of having a conversational partner this evening. Asking him to stay awake for you was just selfish. 

“I’ll see you around, Heiress. Let me know if there’s any more man stuff you need from me.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice in quick succession and started towards his room. 

“Night, Eddie.”

Opportunity slipped through your fingers as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps eventually too muted to hear. You shoved your disappointment beneath the surface. Eddie wasn’t your friend; he was a guest who happened to be friendly. Asking him to stick around and chat would be unprofessional. 

If he happened to stop by the desk while you worked, you could make small talk. Otherwise, it would be business as usual. 

Minutes were hours and hours were days. Another trucker needed a room for the night, and you checked him in around four o’clock. 

You thought about the certainty in Eddie’s assurance that Izzy had felt safe with you. He didn’t know her; he barely knew you, and he wasn’t even there when it all happened. Yet his approval illuminated from the inside out and you replay it over and over. 

You did. You did. You did. 

Izzy was safe with you and she knew it. If you swallowed your fears and forged your own path, you could help other kids just like her. But it would come at a steep cost unless your parents could somehow miraculously afford to hire a new employee.

Your stomach turns just imagining the motel’s windows shuttered, a For Sale sign propped up in the door, ready to be snapped up by a major hotel chain for a mediocre sum that would barely pay off the overdue bills. It haunted you.

How long could you do this? How long could you push off your own dreams in favor of your parents’? At what point did you cross that fine line between selflessness and martyrdom?

Exhaustion crushed your body, strong enough to overpower the churning anxiety. Still, your sleep was fitful, and you woke up before your alarm feeling wholly unrested. Achiness radiated through your bones as you dragged yourself out of bed.

You knew what you had to do.

Dad noticed your earlier departure, so used to you leaving at 1:45 every day like clockwork. His brows pinched with perplexity as he determined whether he’d forgotten about a change in your schedule.

“Just running an errand before class.”

His confusion faded, replaced with a grin. “Thought I was losing my mind.” The way he stood under the lighting accentuated the gray flecks in his hair and mustache and solidified that he was, in fact, aging. His eventual retirement loomed closer, more of a when than an if with each passing day.

“Can’t lose what you never had,” you teased weakly. Dad met your joke with a wink; if he had picked up on the falter in your voice, he was gracious enough to ignore it.

You took a slight deviation from your usual route, walking past the bus stop and turning the corner until you reached the mailbox. It beckoned you, taunted you, sneered at your cowardice. The stamped envelope mocked you tenfold; innocuous on the surface but held the weight of betrayal.

It contained your admissions letter to NYU with the “accept” box marked and a deposit check that nearly drained your savings, ready to go.

The mailbox hinge creaked open so loudly that it seemed to echo. All you had to do was drop the envelope down the chute and pray that you made the right choice.

Regret surged through your veins the moment the envelope left your fingertips. You acted on instinct, shoving your hand back down the box to reclaim your letter, but you knew it was a fruitless effort before you’d even failed. It was already lost in a sea of bills and birthday cards. 

“Shit!” Yanking your arm out before someone accused you of mail theft, you tilted your head back in an attempt to stop the impending tears.

With one stupid decision, you’d heaved a shovel into the dirt and begun digging a grave for the family business.

What the hell were you thinking? 

As though it had a mind of its own, your foot swung out and smacked against the tin drum with all of your might. It took a beat for the pain to hit, the throbbing in your toes matching the reverberating metal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You didn’t care who saw, who heard. Anger and self-loathing bubbled over like boiling water and scalded you in shame. Everything was so far out of your control, and you couldn’t rein it in. The world kept spinning fast, faster, too fast—

“Kicking it won’t make the mailman show up, y’know. ‘S not like rubbing a genie’s lamp.” 

Eddie stood on the other side of the mailbox. A plastic bag dangled from his hand, the box of drugstore brand antihistamine peeking through its translucence. His playfulness morphed into concern when he noted your dewy lashes. “Heiress? You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You swiped at your cheeks and sniffed back the mucus that collected in your nostrils. You probably should have been embarrassed that he’d caught you in such a state of distress; maybe you would be once the dust settled. 

He wrinkled his nose dubiously. You couldn’t blame him; why would he be convinced when you were assaulting mailboxes and swearing at the air?

“Seriously. Just having a bad day.” And it was going to get even worse if you missed your bus—again. “Thanks for asking, though.” You managed a grateful smile to prove your sincerity.

Grabbing your backpack from its spot on the ground, you zipped it back up and hoisted it over your shoulder before starting back towards the stop. 

“Hey, wait a sec.” Eddie called out to you, shuffling over until he was by your side. “You, uh, your makeup…” He trailed off bashfully, raising his thumb but stopping before it touched your skin. “May I?”

You nodded, breath hitching as the pad of his finger grazed just below your eye. He gently rubbed, tongue poking between his lips while he focused on removing the smudge without hurting you. 

He was close, almost too close for comfort. There was a small cut on his chin where he must have nicked himself shaving, and you forced yourself to stare at that instead of his wide eyes. 

“There…we…go.” He held up a mascara-stained thumb as evidence. Without thinking, you pressed your own thumb to it. The knuckles of your remaining four fingers slotted between his until you pulled away. 

Eddie laughed, apparently amused by the odd gesture. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” He wiped the residue on his shirt, not caring if it left a mark. “Don’t miss the bus; wouldn’t want you to be late for your nerd stuff again.”

“Mhm.”

You harnessed all of your strength to unglue your feet from the sidewalk. Your body operated on autopilot to its destination while your mind only thought of the heat that leapt from his thumb to yours, or maybe yours to his. 

It was cyclical, you surmised as the bus approached, with no clear beginning or end.

--

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[spoondrifts]

role reversal hmc au where sophie gets isekai'd into modern day wales after her sisters leave for their apprenticeships and she accidentally speaks a portal into existence with NO idea how she did it. after a lot of shenanigans she eventually lands a job at a local university library, where she realizes "hey, i'm actually more capable and respected in this world than my own, where the Laws of Nature mean i will never succeed. the rules are different here, why go back?" cue sophie actually thriving in wales to the point where she starts to be like "oh, so it wasn't me. it was the actual universe that didn't want me to succeed. good to know that i just need to stay here if i want to be valued and successful." (← lying to herself; self esteem lower than dirt)

and then one day she's shelving books when she overhears patented loserfailure grad students howell and ben arguing over magic at a table and interrupts them to be like "you guys are idiots. that's not how magic portals work." and neither of them have ever opened a portal before despite their theoretical prowess, so they're fascinated by her, because they can CLEARLY tell she's a witch by her story but she refuses to believe them, because obviously she was just the hapless victim of a random magical accident. so now ben and howl are trying to drill information out of her about how exactly she created a portal, while also cracking open the chest of deep-seated inadequacy issues inside her that stem from the whole magical world thing in the first place (that directly play into her inability to admit she might have magic after all). she flourished in wales without magic just fine, she doesn't need it and she doesn't have it!! shut up about the magic SHUT UP!!!

meanwhile howell is enchanted by this peculiar witch woman who accepts approximately none of his bullshit + ben is deeply impressed with her practical spirit and her obvious gifts, and sophie eventually grows to love them both—howell for his callous habits and cowardly personality and good heart underneath it all, ben for his dogged loyalty and biting wit and kind soul shining through.

and herself, too, learning the lesson she'd always needed to learn: that it was never about ingary, or wales, or anywhere else. it was always just about her, and what she's capable of when she's willing to trust herself enough to try.

the three of them build a door. ben enchants the doorbell with a beautiful song, strummed from his guitar; howell paints the dial with a colorful, slapdash scour of four equal quarters; for the first time in many months, sophie asks the door to take them home, and means it.

and it does.

[swagcoolcat]

Different Superstore Characters and Their Autism

(These are all headcanons)

(some have canon support)

Dina

* Strong Points

* Math

* To the point of being able to do basic math in her head

* 198+535? Give her 5 seconds.

* Math always came easy to her

* Music

* Learned guitar very quickly

* Also can play piano

* She’s a very skilled singer despite never having lessons

* Speaking

* Dina is really good at keeping her voice and her words clear. She knows how to get her point across. Even when under stress, she usually doesn’t crack.

* Weak Points

* Social cues

* She’s not bothered by this, and she doesn’t care. It’s not her fault neurotypical bitches make things so complicated.

* Pop culture

* She does, however, know the most random niche information, and is appalled when others don’t also know the random trivia she knows.

* Takes everything so literally

* Her response to Jonah’s “soon we’re gonna have to pee in bottles” during Curbside Pickup comes to mind

* She’s also bad with common phrases

* “I don’t like you spreading lies about fish!”

* Doesn’t seem to recognize how dangerous some things are

* Or how fragile humans are

* Sense of direction

* This bothers her a ton because she feels like she SHOULD have a good sense of direction, but even though she’s lived in St Louis her whole life, she still needs a GPS to get the vast majority of places.

* Yums

* Sorting things, specifically by color

* Anything that isn’t sorted by color when she buys it is sorted by color no later than an hour after it’s purchased

* Eye contact

* She actually aggressively likes eye contact lol

* Socks

* Icks

* Physical affection

* She only sometimes tolerates it, depending on who it’s from

* She’s somewhat okay with being touched, but she doesn’t particularly enjoy it

* Changes in routine

* Includes things like having to buy a new Halloween costume, or having to get new pens (both canon instances)

* High pitched noises

* A lot of noises actually

* Masking

* Does not bother masking most times

* She does it so rarely that it’s very obvious when she is masking

* Stims

* Making noises vocally

* Jumping

* Waving her arms

* Twirling pens or knives in her fingers

* Special Interests (past and present)

* Birds

* Security

* Knives

* Music from the 1940s-1960s

* Coping Mechanisms

* Sex

* Hitting and breaking things

* Driving

* Yelling at people

* Other details

* Low empathy

* Strong sense of right and wrong

* Usually this is in a rule sense, but there are a few cases where her morals don’t align with rules, and she breaks them to stick with said morals.

* Biggest example in my opinion is her efforts to keep Mateo from getting detained

* Undiagnosed

* She’s the most likely to have a diagnosis, but probably still undiagnosed

* Blunt

* Cares a lot for animals

* Especially any type of bird

Jonah

* Strong Points

* Vocabulary

* He has a large vocabulary and prides himself on knowing a lot of words

* (He’s so annoying about it sometimes too- he’s just like me FOR REAL)

* This exercise is teaching me I’m more like Jonah than I thought lol

* You’d think with this he’d be able to get his point across well but you’d be wrong

* Vibe Check ??

* (Sorry I couldn’t think of a better way to put it)

* He just is really good about knowing when something is off

* Does he handle the situation well when something is off? Totally depends.

* Weak Points

* Bad at reading social cues

* In denial over his struggles with reading them, thinking he’s great at it, when in fact he’s exactly the opposite

* Implying he’s bad at reading social clues will offend him

* Auditory processing issues

* Tends to give too many details

* Specifically about pieces of media, he’ll share a bit too much. He’s not good at giving a quick synopsis.

* He’s just like me for real

* He’s so fucking impulsive

* HE CAME TO WORK IN RETAIL IN A COMPLETELY SEPARATE STATE ON A WHIM

* AND HE ONLY CAME THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE HE WANTED A SNACK LMAO

* Has some insomnia

* Very bad at staying on topic sometimes

* The way he’ll just randomly start talking about something else in the series? Canon. Canon.

* Speaking in general

* If he doesn’t think very carefully before he speaks, he will stutter. Even if he does think carefully, there’s a chance he’ll stutter anyway.

* He’s. Just. Like. Me. For. Real.

* Yums

* Loves physical affection

* To the point of pushing it, and not noticing when it’s too much

* He gives hugs a lot

* He and Amy are very much the loves affection x doesn’t like affection that much.

* He enjoys changes in his routine

* He would literally reorganize an entire house if given the opportunity, he loves change

* Unless it’s initiated by literally anyone else, but he likes to initiate changes often

* Socks

* Icks

* Loud noises

* RSD

* This isn’t necessarily an ick but he wants people to like him SO bad so I guess people not liking him is an ick

* Masking

* He cannot stop masking

* He doesn’t realize he’s masking, but he was raised to mask his entire life, so it’s just normal to him

* He is always exhausted because of this

* He always seems uncomfy when he’s not masking

* Stims

* Moving his hands or arms in any way

* Twirling pens

* Repeating words

* Tapping his fingers

* Pacing

* Special Interests (past and present)

* The Americans

* Politics

* Musical Theatre

* Constellations

* Horses

* Coping Mechanisms

* Comfort shows

* Talking about it

* Or yelling if he needs to

* Quiet alone time

* Cooking for others

* Other details

* Feels the need to prove himself constantly

* Out of the three, Jonah probably had the worst upbringing specifically in regards to his neurodiversity, with his parents showing very obvious favoritism to his older brothers, and with his brother, Josh, always bullying him because of his neurodiversity

* High empathy

* Strong sense of right and wrong

* Undiagnosed

* Also so in denial

* If anyone implies he might be neurodivergent he’ll be like “I couldn’t possibly be, not that there’s anything wrong, but like, couldn’t be me, actually”

* Not good at making friends

* He gets better at this over the course of the show

* He’s not good at this before the show because he never sticks with anything, so even though he knows more of who he is than he did in childhood (where he was more of an outcast) he doesn’t stick around long enough to make long lasting friends.

Eric

* Strong Points

* Details

* He’s very detail oriented and notices small things

* He’s good at recognizing when things are off center and it drives him crazy

* Weak Points

* Bad at reading social cues

* Literally the worst

* He knows this to an extent but he’s not aware of just how bad he is at it

* Especially bad at reading the tone of a social situation (whether it be serious, funny, sad, whatever)

* Generally more quiet and reserved

* With his ‘safe’ people he is literally the exact opposite

* Also this isn’t a weak point per se but this felt like the right place to put it

* Dissociates a lot

* Auditory Processing troubles

* He literally looks like he doesn’t know what’s going on sometimes and it’s always funny

* Yums

* Loves physical affection

* But he’s picky on who he’s affectionate with

* Likes to sit on the floor

* Socks

* Sorting things by color/organizing in general

* Mateo leaves Eric home alone. He comes back and the closet has been rearranged by color. This happens often.

* Mateo doesn’t mind this tbh because he likes stuff organized that way too.

* Sometimes when he’s at Amy’s and he’s playing with her kids, he’ll get distracted and sort their toys

* Icks

* Dislikes changes in routine

* Loud noises

* A lot of clothing textures

* Velvet is the worst of these

* Strong perfumey smells

* Masking

* He does mask

* However, he unmasks around his safe people (Mateo, Amy, etc)

* He doesn’t really have the proper terminology for it but he’s sort of aware when he needs to put up a nice face or where he can just be stoic

* He’s good with eye contact and doesn’t hate it

* Stims

* Biting/Chewing

* Clicking pens

* Anything he can busy his hands with actually

* Whistling

* Repeating words

* Rapidly blinking

* Pacing

* Special Interests (past and present)

* Plants

* Specifically succulents

* Trains

* This one is literally so self indulgent but I don’t care lmao

* Baking

* Giraffes

* Filmmaking

* (Because of a line where Mateo says he’s using Eric’s projector)

* He definitely still has a VCR player and a good amount of VHS tapes, and you can pry them from his cold dead fucking hands

* Weather

* He likes thunderstorms in particular

* This one is also self indulgent but I also just think it’d be kind of funny for Mateo to have severe storm anxiety and for Eric to be one of those bitches that would stand outside and watch the tornado if given the chance.

* Coping Mechanisms

* Rocking

* Hugging his giraffe stuffy

* Baking

* Sorting things

* Other details

* High empathy

* He Must be wearing jackets

* He can be without one, but he tends to have a shorter social battery when he’s not wearing one

* He doesn’t know why this is, he just is like “hm, I don’t really like being upset all the time in public places, guess I’ll just wear jackets all the time”

* Short sleeve jackets are okay, it literally just has to be an extra layer

* It’s an extra weight thing but he does not know this

* Undiagnosed

* Ron Sosa is also aggressively neurodivergent so their family is just like “ah, so the men in our family are just fucking weird, carry on then”

* Blunt

* Less so than Dina but it is definitely there

* Most of his close friends are people he’s known for a long time

* Basically saying he’s not great at making friends that he hasn’t known since he was in school

[10000000]

sometimes all social cues go out the window when someone makes a comment to me that would prompt a conversation. i either just ignore it or answer dryly (unintentionally) and i either reflect on it immediately but it’s too late or do it hours or days later and i just repent, i’m down on my knees, arms outstretched, palms up asking a god i don’t believe in to reverse time so i can try again and make them feel the warmth within me lol like today i was looking for something at a store. i asked this really nice girl but i didn’t know the name for this item in spanish so i made it up and she was like huh????! then i just said it in english and i was like “i don’t know how to say it in spanish” then she says “oh you speak english? me too! 🙂😊” and i just kind of ignored that unintentionally and went oh ok so you do have it blah blah went on about me and what i needed. reminded me of the time when i was a kid in guitar lessons (only lasted a few months, learnt nothing) another kid waiting on their teacher asked about my lessons and guitar and i gave dry responses not reciprocating interest in the conversation then afterwards my mom scolded me for not being friendly and not asking questions back, basically saying that i was rude lmao i learnt after that what i did was not very nice. i didn't realize it. i was just shy and didn't know i had to be an active participant in conversations, even if it terrified me, even with severe social anxiety. reminds me of all the videos i see online that point toward a certain diagnosis which i am aware not every little thing means that you have something but

[stupidrant]

wild west AU where atreus tags along with his father to the saloon, thinking it woud be a little boring but hey he'd be playing cards with his old man! then he sees the prettiest cowgirl with a guitar on the stage. people are saying her name is little angie but atreus is starting to catch feelings wants to know her real name ;3; (cue daddy lessons or texas hold em playing)

WAITTT THIS IS CUTEEEEE 😩�� what if brok and sindri worked there and they introduce her to atreus after her performance because he was too shy to do it himself 🥹 then he’d go there often just to see her even if kratos isnt present

[knickynoo]

Back to the Future: The Animated Series, s01ep01 "Brothers" Review & Commentary

Well, I let you people vote on it, and you (overwhelmingly) urged me to do this. Not gonna lie; I'm excited. The animated series is. It's a thing that was made. It's kind of like that cousin or uncle that no one in the family really talks about or acknowledges. But, as far as a children's show goes, it is pretty fun. It's also ridiculous, and I can't wait to dive in, tear it apart, analyze it too much, and just generally have a good time talking about this weird little cartoon. These posts will be long, but I'm going to really try to make them enjoyable to read.

Before we begin! Some background info just to orient you: The series takes place in 1991. The Brown family has moved to a farm in Hill Valley and are continuing to go on adventures through the space time continuum because why not? Doc has thrown all caution to the wind, evidently. Marty is in college. I guess 1991 would put him in his senior year, so, maybe he's 20? I dunno. I'm going to have a LOT of fun discussing him, because--as you may have seen me mention briefly in the past--they really did a number on him character-wise.

The series makes use of live-action segments at the beginning and end of each episode, with Christopher Lloyd as Doc. He's often assisted by Bill Nye, The Science Guy. Most of the live action beginnings are framed as Doc telling a story about a specific memory or adventure, which then leads into the cartoon portion, which is the "bulk" of the story. Please keep this in mind. These are supposed to be actual life stories that Doc is sharing about the goings-on in his life post-trilogy. Okay, let's get to it.

We open in Doc's lab, where he's setting up a camera. I don't think it's ever addressed or explained, but he's got some sort of science show that he now runs for children? Honestly, these segments are delightful. Christopher Lloyd clearly enthusiastically jumped right back into the role of Doc, and it's great to see more of him.

There's our guy. Look at him. He's wearing his train shirt again, so he must have gotten a new one after the events of Part III. I don't blame him; that is a nice shirt. He's talking about the electromagnet that he and Jules have made, and it leads him into a story of another time the two of them built one, which was in 1864. Cue the cartoon portion!

The first cartoonified (?) character we get to see is Marty! He's supposed to be paying attention to a history lesson on the Civil War (using Doc's futuristic tech that includes a holographic teacher) but he's not listening at all. He's got his headphones on and is jamming on his guitar. Very Marty behavior. At least they kept that trait of his. Anyway, look at him. Look what they did to him. He's wearing a letterman jacket like some sort of jock, and I do not approve of it. Why did they not have him wear a denim jacket?? Denim was huge in the 90s. Who made this decision? Where are the strings on his guitar? I have so many questions and no answers.

Oh! I should probably mention that Marty is voiced by David Kaufman. Many of you will know him as the voice of Danny Phantom. Doc is voiced by Dan Castellaneta, who is also the voice of Homer Simpson.

When Doc enters the scene, he shows Marty the new feature he's added to the DeLorean. (Oh, yeah, the DeLorean is back, btw. He built another one) As a precaution against anyone trying to steal the car, Doc has modified it to be able to fold down into a suitcase?

It will only open up at the sound of Doc's voice or Einstein's bark, and it weighs over 2,000 pounds. Doc also has a fancy robot crane thing to help lift it and carry it around, but it malfunctions when he tries to demonstrate, and it catapults the DeLorean-turned-suitcase that weighs a literal ton RIGHT ON TOP OF HIM.

photos taken seconds before disaster. rip Doc, cartoon over.

He then shows Marty how the time circuits are now voice activated, and we also learn that the car can travel to locations throughout the world now. It is no longer confined to just traveling through time. Marty's thinks this is all very interesting (no he doesn't) and hurries off because he's late for his classes and Dean Strickland will be angry at him if he fails his Civil War exam. Doc goes into a mini soliloquy, saying, "Ah, the Civil War; a tragic moment from America's past. The powers of oppression and slavery versus the forces of freedom. The south pitted against the north—brother against brother. Thank goodness those days are far behind us."

Naturally, this brings us immediately to a very loud fight between Jules and Verne. Now, I actually like the way Jules and Verne are included and their personalities are established in the cartoon. And if anyone here has read my fanfic "Harborage", you know that I love writing Jules and Verne and take their characterization straight from this cartoon (though I do water them down, obviously. these cartoons are so over the top). Generally, though, I do like their dynamic. Jules is essentially a mini-Doc but even more so in a way? He's extremely smart, very logical, and speaks formally at all times. Verne, on the other hand, is all about having fun. He's loud, hyper, and thinks Jules is a huge geek. Verne and Marty are super close, and they're very much a "big brother, little brother" type dynamic duo of chaos through the series. Doc breaks up his sons' fighting, but Verne is upset that he always seems to take Jules's side.

Then, we go back to Marty (later in the day, I guess?). He's doing another virtual Civil War lesson but is still wearing his headphones and playing guitar during it. His virtual teacher gets annoyed and yells an important date from the war—February 11th, 1864 in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Remember how Doc said the time circuits are now voice activated? Yeah, this date gets programmed into the DeLorean.

Verne, feeling neglected and looked down on by his family, decides to take a joy ride in the DeLorean. Marty witnesses Verne take off, and we actually get a good bit of Marty characterization! He sighs and says, "Perfect", which--as many of you know—is one of Marty's favorite words.

Meanwhile, outside, Verne nearly runs over his own father with the car, and Doc has the most hilariously cartoony reaction to seeing the car barreling at him.

Then, uh oh, Verne is sent right into the middle of the Civil War. He meets Beauregard Tannen, a Confederate General. (This is a good place to mention that Thomas Wilson actually voices all Tannen relatives in the cartoon!)

Back at the house, Doc, Jules, and Marty are all sick with worry and have no clue where Verne has ventured off to. I will point out that we haven't seen or even heard about Clara yet. Where is my girl Clara? *sigh* Anyway, it's Einstein who figures it out. He—he has mechanical gloves that he wears that basically give him human hands, so he finds a photo of Verne in a history book and...yeah.

Turns out Verne has been forced to join the Confederate Army as a little drummer boy. The book states that the group in the picture is "wiped out" a day after the photo was taken. The gang all race to the Time Train, which is hidden in an underground tunnel on the Brown's property. That's a pretty neat detail, ngl. I've wondered where Doc would store that massive train if he ever moved back to Hill Valley.

Once arriving in Chattenooga, Doc puts Marty in charge of guarding the train, and he is immediately captured and tied up. And, ya know what? Even though I feel like Marty is generally out of character a lot in this show, I'll admit it's pretty spot on so far. Doc and Jules are also captured and forced into the Union Army. They learn of General Ulysses S. Clayton, who is Clara's uncle, and Jules goes to try to convince him to put a stop to the upcoming battle. It doesn't work, but they do notice some sort of electromagnetic machine a doctor is using on Ulysses (to treat rheumatism), so Doc and Jules steal it.

On the battlefield the next day, as the armies are charging at each other, Jules gets thrown right into the middle of it all. Verne then runs to him, and they huddle together as they await their doom. (I must say that, as a first episode of a series, this is quite the story to open with. Very interesting choice.) As they soldiers prepare to destroy each other, they notice the brothers cowering together and stop in their tracks—struck by how sweet the scene is. Realizing that the war has pitted many family members and friends against each other, the men begin to hug each other and put aside their differences. On their way back home, Marty's history book changes to show that the particular regiment Verne was forced into never fought any battles. All those men apparently took the little lesson they'd been taught to heart. And I gotta point out that, originally, all those men died in battle, so Verne's actions led to a whole group of people continuing to go on, live their lives, and probably have children. But, seeing as this is a kid's show, the potential repercussions of this on the timeline aren't addressed. And that's the end of the cartoon portion.

We go back to Real Doc then. Yayyy! He shares this news with us.

The delivery of these lines is great. They're said with all the weary exasperation of a parent whose warnings have been ignored over and over. Doc does not feel bad for Marty.

I think Doc does an experiment then? But guess what. As I'm typing this, I'm realizing that I got distracted making the gifs and never actually finished the episode. I don't feel like pulling it back up and watching those last 2 minutes. Oh well.

I think that, overall, this is a weird episode to start a series on. It's not very fun or wacky. Mostly just feels like a history lesson with a "fighting doesn't solve anything" moral slapped onto it. This was fun to write up, though.

Tune in next week to see if we find out where my girl Clara is.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 5

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2231

Warnings: Car Crash, swearing

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: A Place in This World Meant To Be

****

Ghost

"I did it!" Jake exclaimed, laughing in disbelief and staring at the guitar in his hands. Then, like he couldn't believe it himself, he turned to his friend for verification. "I did, right? No mistakes?"

"You did," Annalise confirmed, beaming proudly at him. "I've never seen someone pick up guitar so quickly."

"What can I say? I'm a fast learner. I also had a great teacher."

"That goes without saying." Jake handed her the guitar, which she happily took back and started strumming a new song she'd been practicing. "How far into the book are you?"

"I finished it!" he exclaimed, twisting around and taking it out of his backpack. "I see why you love jets so much. They're fascinating! The Blue Angels are doing a show in Corpus Christi in a few weeks. I'm going to see if I can convince my mom to let me go see it."

"I already got tickets," Annalise chirped. "Mom gets special access with her military clearance. She makes a call, and she's there. If you want to go, let me know, and I'll ask my mom to see if she can add you to the list. Your mom, too, if she wants to come."

Jake perked up immediately. "Really?"

"Yeah. It'd be nice to have a friend tag along. My sister goes, but she's usually off flirting with the boys, so I don't have anyone to geek out over the planes with." 

"I'll ask when I get home! Honestly, after reading that book and reading up on the Navy, I see why you want to join."

Annalise cocked her head. "When did you read about the Navy?"

"Checked out a book from the library not long after you brought it up. Seemed interesting, and it was. The more I read about it, the more I want to join."

"Going to become a naval aviator like me?"

"Obviously. It's the coolest job." Jake glanced at his watch and swore. "Shit, I have to leave for practice soon. Coach will have my head if I'm late."

Annalise chuckled, taking the cue and gathering up her things. Jake helped her up when she was done and took her guitar case as he walked her back to her house like he'd done every time before. While they made the trek to her place, Annalise asked, "You ready for school to start next week?"

"This is going to sound strange, but yeah. I love being at school." Jake hesitated momentarily, like he wanted to say more, but then seemingly decided against it. "What about you?"

"Not really," she admitted, omitting the fact that she had no friends outside of him right now, and she was sure he'd forget about her once classes started. After all, he was the most popular guy in school, and include the fact that he filled out over the summer, buffing up and losing some of his baby face, would only increase his popularity. Meanwhile, Annalise was a nobody, someone who had joined two months before sophomore year ended and made no real impact on anyone. No one paid attention to her. She might as well have been a ghost. The fact Jake even remembered her at their initial meet in the woods stunned her, but she chalked it up to them having had a few classes together. Why else would he have noticed her? It's not like he had a crush on her. Even his walking her home was simply Jake being a gentleman. Annalise refused to read into it because it meant nothing more than what it was on the surface.

"Why not?" Jake prodded with the dreaded question.

"I'll basically be the new girl all over again. I barely got to know anyone when I got here last year, and chances are I'll move again by the end of the school year because of my mom or dad's job. I don't want to get close to anyone when I'm probably going to leave again before college."

"I'm not sure if you're telling me I'm the exception to not wanting to get close to anyone or that you're going to ghost me if you do leave."

Annalise smiled but said nothing, already figuring their friendship would crash and burn before she left. Stopping outside the gate, Annalise thanked him for the escort and took her guitar from him. As she turned around to head into her backyard, Jake said, "Same time tomorrow?"

"Always," Annalise replied. Giving him a two-finger salute, she entered her backyard and shut the gate behind her. Upon stepping foot into her house, she'd barely set her guitar down when Jacqueline Blackwood appeared out of nowhere from the shadows of the living room. 

"When were you going to tell me you knew Jake Seresin?" her sister demanded, crossing her arms.

"Since never, because it's none of your business," Annalise retorted, rolling her eyes. 

"People are saying he has a secret girlfriend, you know."

"Wouldn't surprise me if he did. He's cute."

It was Jackie's turn to roll her eyes. "I'm talking about you, dumbass. They'll think it's you if they find out you two are hanging out. Are you two together?"

"Oh, please." Annalise scoffed, grabbing a Dr. Pepper from the fridge. "Jake is not interested in me. It's just a summer thing. Come first day of school, he'll have completely forgotten about me."

"And how often have you been sneaking out to see him?"

"It's not sneaking out if we plan it."

"Then why haven't you said anything about him all summer?"

"Because I knew all three of you would get the wrong idea, and you, in particular, are a busy little brownnoser who would probably find a way to crash the party."

"For your information, I already followed you. How else do you think I knew you were seeing him?"

"What the fuck, Jackie?"

"Language!" Charlie chastised, entering the kitchen in a sharp suit. "Annalise, you know better."

When Charlie briefly turned her back to her daughters, Annalise flipped Jackie off, who stuck her tongue out in return.

"Girls, knock it off," Charlie warned. Annalise wondered how her mom had seen the exchange for a split second until she saw the microwave, clearly reflecting the two Blackwood sisters. "What's going on?"

"Annalise has a secret boyfriend, who happens to be the most popular guy in school," Jackie piped up, smiling smugly at her little sister. Annalise glowered at her sister, thoroughly planning on getting her revenge later on. 

"He's not my boyfriend. I ran into him in the woods, and we started chatting. He was interested in learning guitar, so I've been teaching him. That's it. Nothing more. We're not like Jackie and Oreo."

"His name is Orry."

"I don't care what his actual name is. The guy has super black hair, is always wearing black, and is whiter than Frosty the Snowman. He looks like an Oreo, so I will continue calling him as such."

"Fine. I'll continue calling Jake your boyfriend."

"If that's the game you want to play-" Annalise turned to their mom- "Jackie snuck out of the house two weeks ago to go to a party with Orry and got stoned."

Charlie placed her hands on her hips. "Jacqueline Elena Blackwood!"

"You were supposed to keep that a secret!" Jackie hissed, grabbing an apple from a bowl nearby and chucking it at her sister's head. 

Annalise caught it and took a bite from it. "Yeah, on the premise you would owe me a favor in the future or until you pissed me off enough to divulge it."

"Jackie, go to your room. Your dad and I will talk with you later about your punishment," Charlie ordered, pointing firmly at the stairs. Jackie obeyed reluctantly, shuffling off in dismay to her room, but not before muttering under her breath so only her sister could hear, "You're gonna pay for that one."

Annalise tried to then back away without any further conversation, but her mom stopped her. "Any other secrets you're holding over your sister?"

"Unless they give me leverage over her, I don't keep them, so no."

"About this Jake kid-"

Annalise groaned. "Not you too."

"Have you been sneaking out to see him?"

"No. I just haven't said anything because I didn't want it getting blown out of proportion. It's a summer thing that will end the moment school starts."

"Why's that?" 

"Because he's the most popular guy in school, and I'm a nobody?"

"I'd like to see you have a steady friend group."

"What's the point?"

"We're not going to-"

"Move again in a year?" Annalise responded defensively. "I'm pretty sure you said that in Colorado, California, Florida, Michigan, and Virginia."

"Annalise, don't use that tone of voice with me," Charlie cautioned gently but firmly. "This time's different. Your dad and I want you and Jackie to have stability in your last years in high school. We've already talked to our bosses to ensure that that happens. Listen, Jackie is going out of town for the weekend at the end of the month. Why don't you invite Jake over for dinner?"

"I'll ask him," she lied, biting back a cringe at the idea. She would mean nothing to Jake after school started, so what was the point in even asking?

"Good. Let me know what he says. On a different note, I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I need to get this package sent off. Could you run into town and do it for me?"

"Anything to be away from Jackie right now. Where is it?"

"It's in the mudroom. Thank you, sweetie. Be careful!"

"I will. Love you!" Annalise grabbed the keys to her car and bolted out the door. Blasting some George Strait, she pulled onto the main road and cruised into town. Annalise passed the high school on the way to the post office, its parking lot jammed with trucks belonging to the football players practicing on the field. Jake was down there somewhere, but she couldn't tell which. She didn't even know his jersey number. Annalise continued on her way, dropping the package off and then deciding rather than going home and facing the inevitable wrath of her sister, she'd shop around a bit. It's not like there was anything of interest to buy, but Annalise was a sucker for cruising through stores like Home Goods, Hobby Lobby, and Barnes and Noble. Annalise let her mom know, who had no qualms about the better-behaved daughter being out by herself. 

For better or for worse, all three of those stores were in the same parking lot as the post office, so Ghost strolled over to them, taking her time as she perused through the items. A couple of books did catch her eye, namely about fighter jets, although a romance novel did slip its way into the mix. Nothing at Home Goods or Hobby Lobby was worth buying or was out of her price range, but they were still fun to visit.

While in Home Goods, two girls her age strode past. Annalise ignored them, continuing to look mindlessly at some of the clothes on the racks, when one of them said, "Hey, you're Annalise Blackwood, right?"

Annalise glanced up in surprise. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"We're having a party Friday night and would love to have you come. You should bring Jake, too!"

Annalise knew precisely who they were referring to but decided to play dumb. "Jake who?"

"Seresin, of course! With you two dating and all, we thought-"

"I'm not dating Jake Seresin," Annalise said, laughing in disbelief. "Where the hell did you hear that rumor?"

"Well, we heard it from Hannah, who heard it from Mackenzie, who heard it from her boyfriend Trevor, who heard it from Orry, who-"

"Heard it from Jackie?" Annalise finished, blood slowly boiling as the epiphany dawned on her. When the two girls confirmed her suspicion, she sighed deeply to rein in her flaring temper. "I'm not dating Jake. It was a rumor spread by my sister as payback for something I did earlier. I appreciate the invite, but I'm going to have to decline. If you'll excuse me, I need to get going."

Annalise left before the girls could protest, keeping her head down in case any other school students noticed her and interrogated her about the false situation. One thing was certain, though: Jackie was dead meat for this.

Annalise pulled out her phone and shot her sister an angry text with more than a few expletives. Leave it to her sister to not only ruin the only friendship she had but mortally embarrass her before school started. What had Jackie been thinking?!

Annalise slid into the driver's seat, setting her phone in the cup holder. Trying to bite back tears of anger and mortification, she backed out of the parking spot and started to head home. Tears tried to blur her vision, but she furiously blinked them away. Annalise white-knuckled the steering wheel, desperately wishing to get home as quickly as possible. The light changed to a green arrow, and after checking both ways, Annalise started moving forward. Then, and only then, did she notice the tow truck coming at her from her peripheral with no apparent intent to stop. Time slowed, and realizing she couldn't avoid being hit, Annalise braked and braced for impact.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @majdoline @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5

If you're on the tag list, it's because I copied from the India Lima Yankee tag list. If you don't wish to be tagged for this story, just let me know! If you're not on the tag list and want to be, comment below :)

[kylejsugarman]

SUPERSTORE AUTISM HEADCANONS

Dina

* Good at math

* To the point of being able to do basic math in her head

* 198+535? Give her 5 seconds.

* Math always came easy to her

* Good at learning music

* Learned guitar very quickly

* Also can play piano

* She’s a very skilled singer despite never having lessons

* Bad at reading social cues

* She’s not bothered by this, and she doesn’t care. It’s not her fault neurotypical bitches make things so complicated.

* Dislikes physical affection

* She only sometimes tolerates, depending on who they’re from

* She’s okay with being touched, but she doesn’t particularly enjoy it

* She doesn’t know pop culture

* She does, however, know the most random niche information, and is appalled when others don’t also know the random trivia she knows.

* Stims

* Making noises vocally

* Jumping

* Waving her arms

* Does not bother masking most times

* She does it so rarely that it’s very obvious when she is masking

* Special Interests

* Birds

* Security

* Knives

* Low empathy

* Strong sense of right and wrong

* Usually this is in a rule sense, but there are a few cases where her morals don’t align with rules, and she breaks them to stick with said morals.

* Biggest example in my opinion is her efforts to keep Mateo from getting detained

* Coping methods

* Sex

* Hitting and breaking things

* Hates changes in routine

Jonah

* Bad at reading social cues

* In denial over his struggles with reading them, thinking he’s great at it, when in fact he’s exactly the opposite

* Implying he’s bad at reading social clues will offend him

* He cannot stop masking

* He doesn’t realize he’s masking, but he was raised to mask his entire life, so it’s just normal to him

* He is always exhausted because of this

* Stims

* Moving his hands or arms in any way

* Twirling pens

* Repeating words

* Loves physical affection

* To the point of pushing it, and not noticing when it’s too much

* He gives hugs a lot

* Special interests

* The Americans

* Politics

* Musical Theatre

* Constellations

* Horses

* High empathy

* Strong sense of right and wrong

* Coping mechanisms

* Comfort shows

* Talking about it

* Or yelling if he needs to

* Quiet alone time

* He enjoys changes in his routine

Eric

* Bad at reading social cues

* Literally the worst

* He knows this to an extent but he’s not aware of just how bad he is at it

* Loves physical affection

* But he’s picky on who he’s affectionate with

* He does mask

* However, he unmasks around his safe people (Mateo, Amy, etc)

* He doesn’t really have the proper terminology for it but he’s sort of aware when he needs to put up a nice face or where he can just be stoic

* He’s good with eye contact and doesn’t hate it

* Stims

* Biting/Chewing

* Clicking pens

* Anything he can busy his hands with actually

* Whistling

* High empathy

* Special Interests

* Plants

* Specifically succulents

* Trains

* This one is literally so self indulgent but I don’t care lmao

* Baking

* Giraffes

* Weather

* Likes to sit on the floor

* Disassociates a lot

* Dislikes changes in routine

* Coping mechanisms

* Rocking

* Hugging his giraffe stuffy

* Baking

so obsessed with these and how u think about them, they really are So Autistic in such different and varied ways.....this is a wonderful reading of those characters and its so fun to really explore their behavior thru the lens of being aggressively neurodivergent

[vexmusic]

2-3rd week 12/10/2023

This week was the performance of Jimi Hendrix's song "crosstown traffic"

In my opinion while practicing for this song I originally found it quite challenging with the unusual structure and my unfamiliarity with is work. The guitar solo contains a bass part which is quarter notes sliding to the 6th fret on the D string which I did find difficult at first . You can see this in my first practice run of the song where i was confused by it .

Band performance

After each member learnt their individual parts we came together for an hour and a half to practice and put together the pieces. During the rehearsal we discussed our joint unfamiliarity with the song and tried to maintain a professional working space to iron out any issues. We recorded two of the last run throughs of the song with Ellis in the guitar solo improvising too add flair too the piece . This did throw me of a slight bit at first as I was relying on the sound cue to start my part but I quickly figured it out .

Ideas and practice

During the week I started brainstorming ideas for my "2 songs" project where I would prefer to write an original piece as I never have before . This started from my bass technical lesson where I now understand major chord progressions and understanding the fretboard which allows me to greatly express my signature playing style . During the week I have practiced my exercises such as intervals in a major key and basic listening exercises to develop my ear.

This was a productive week for myself personally as i have started most of my projects and established connections in the music space.

[hestiviea]

episode 2: the band is so too shitty with their music with the only person with actual musical talent is Matthew singing

so they call Todd for lessons and while Lucas is learning how to play the guitar, sparks ensue

cue todd having another male crush and lucas just accepting it

Pitch for Scott Pilgrim season two: The Polycule of Evil Exes

[tvrningout-a]

here’s some more arata heacanons bc i love he!!

the first time arata met fans of the band, he was on cloud nine!!! wouldn’t shut up about it and told everyone who would listen bc oh my gosh people actually know his band!!!!

his best friend yasushi is the face of the band since he’s the lead singer, but arata is the one who talks the most during interviews bc he’s very good at things like that ( even if he has to be reminded not to spoil upcoming songs )!

now that i’m thinking about it, everyone in the band but arata ( and akane, but she’s behind the scenes ) is actually kind of introverted, so they’re probably happy to let him take the reins during interviews and the like

i’d like to make a separate post to really delve into this, but arata really idolized his mom as a kid. after the divorce, though, he’s kind of grown?? a little resentful. towards his dad, too, but considering he was so close to his mom, his anger got directed at her more on the beginning. kinda felt like she was abandoning him 

in general has many feelings about the divorce – bc he’s very much the sort to face problems head on and openly discuss feelings, he doesn’t understand the fall out that happened between his parents and gets upset thinking about how it affected him and akane

can’t remember if i mentioned this before, but he and akane used to take piano lessons together! they stopped when things went sour with their parents, and a couple years later, arata picked up the guitar

music has definitely always been a comfort and an outlet to arata! doesn’t matter if he’s happy, angry, sad, in love, heartbroken – whatever the occasion, there’s a song to help him through it :’ )

really loves feeling needed and having people depend on him!! equates it a little to his self worth which isn’t great tho ;n;

“ i’m not CUTE i’m handsome!! manly!! a total stud!!! ” cue all of the band’s fandom calling him baby meanwhile thirsting over his best friend : )

that’s all i got for now or else this’ll be too long!! 

[gobstoppr]

i need to ramble about anime meta knight for way too long i have been watching thru the anime recently with my sister . we have been so head empty and are having a very silly time . and i just need to fuckign talk about meta knight in this show ok . he fuckign fascinates me to no end .

this post got sorta long, but i did try to include things like image ID descriptions for the 2 clips i used

hes the cool fucking guy . hes the mysterious quiet guy with sometimes ambiguous intentions . he has the most braincells in town but also hes . sofucking funny in everything he does . he lets dededes stupid schemes happen because it could be a good training oppurtunity for kirby . he waits till the last second to intervene and when he does half the time he gives a vague nothing piece of advice or just exposition . hes just not around at all 90% of the time. where are you. mk theres a giant fucking guy destroying the entire town .mk where ARE you

[[ Video ID: Anime-only-character Tiff mourning over the environmental damage caused by an evil factory set up by Dedede. Meta Knight appears and explains that this is the case, and they have the following conversation: Tiff says "You Knew?" Meta responds with, "More or less." Tiff says "You knew and you didn't stop it?" Meta argues, "Those fools would never understand without being taught a painful lesson." Clip ends with Tiff saying "You're cold." End of ID. ]]

when he does show up hes always wrapped in his silly little cape. i think hes just cold. whenever i see him i go :0 :D . even if nothing in particular interesting is going on . there is a joy to just seeing this funny fella . everytime theres a wide angle shot that slowly zooms in on the bastard with that goddamn guitar cue. i lose my fucking mind . theres often a slight pause too. like it feels like it starts a beat too late this show has a lot of little moments of awkwardness like that and everytime i lose my shit over nothing. its awesome . the level of brain empty just silly mode i enter while i watch this show reminds me of my experience watching precure . he likes. he likes to feel tall. he is always on a raised surface of some kind . sometimes he is on a conviently placed rock in an open field so he can be raised 2 inches in the air . sometimes theres a slow pan up to show meta knight who is 8 feet in the air in a tree , staring out as blankly as always . i do not think it was intentional that i find these moments as funny as i do . one time there was a shot of him sitting at a table but all the chairs were extra tall so that these tiny creatures can sit at a normal sized table . regardless. the result was seeing him in what seems like a high chair. i cheer .

[[ Image ID: Meta Knight and other characters sitting at a normal-sized table. Due to their small sizes, the chairs appear particularly tall in order for them to have their faces seen at the table. End of ID. ]]

when hes asleep or knocked out, instead of like having his visor go dark or showing closed eyes or whatever, the show opts to just . make his eyes dimmer . its time for bed ok time to turn down my brightness slider .

[[ Image ID: Meta Knight asleep in bed. His eyes appear much dimmer than the usual bright yellow. End of ID. ]]

[simplytheevebest]

Stay With Me, Sway With Me

Author's Note: I wrote this ages ago as a little writing exercise and decided what the hell? I'll post it. Fluffy Silrah inspired by the OG cartoon and a scene where the girls have to clean Alfea without magic. Enjoy! Title is from Michael Bublé's "Sway"

On Ao3

Saul scrapes a nail against the tree sap staining his uniform with a scowl, still picking pine needles from his hair. He’ll have to see if Farah or Ben can get it out: the fourth years are easily the most reliable and disciplined, and yet not immune to the novelty of smacking each other with sap-covered pine branches during downtime. Hopefully the fifty laps they’ll be starting with tomorrow will clear some of that questionable judgement from their heads. He rounds the corner, catches wind of the voices floating from the direction of the canteen and recalls the girls from the Winx suite are serving their detention tonight for whichever ill-fated decision they’d made recently. He’s inclined to continue on his way, but pulls up short when he catches the opening riffs of some ridiculous pop song.

Trusting his instincts, he creeps along the upper corridor to peer down at the girls: sure enough, they’re not cleaning the canteen, as they’d been instructed, not really. The argument could be made they're doing the opposite: their broom and mop handles are twisted the wrong way around, likely scattering dust and grit and dirty mop water as they’re pointed up at the ceiling in lieu of guitars and microphone stands. More than one pair of shoe-covered feet stand atop the tables, dancing across them one after the other as the girls sing along. A scowl lifts the corner of his mouth. Idiots. He knew Bloom had an irrational aversion to rules, but he’d figured Aisha, at least, could keep them in line. He wonders how much they’ll be laughing and dancing when he’s got them running laps until their legs fall off.

Movement on the other end of the corridor catches his eye and he raises his gaze to find Farah watching them too, her arms folded and the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of her lips. She raises her head at his approach, pressing a finger to her lips.

“How long have they been at it?” He whispers.

“About an hour.”

“Seriously? And this is what they’re doing?”

“It’s fine Saul.”

“This is meant to be a punishment,” he reminds her, but Farah shakes her head, her gaze fond and bordering on melancholy.

“No, it’s meant to be a lesson. Rosalind was forever confusing the two, and I know better than anyone the fear that fosters, when you think you aren’t allowed to make mistakes. I don’t want the girls thinking they can’t come to me if they’re in trouble.”

Saul sighs, leans against the wall just out of sight, watching Farah watch her girls.

“They know they can, Farah, they trust you.”

“I know,” she murmurs, distracted, then smiles softly in his direction, “I do. But they’re just children Saul, they deserve to have a little fun.”

“Even when they’re meant to be cleaning the canteen without magic?”

“It’ll take me seconds to clean it with magic,” Farah counters, and Saul doesn’t need to tell her how soft he thinks she’s gotten; she feels it in their bond and shoots him an unimpressed look he returns with a rueful grin, head ducked to hide his amusement. Beneath them, whatever playlist they have going switches to something a bit slower and the girls take that as their cue to make a proper attempt at the cleaning. Farah straightens to retreat, presumably back to her office, and if she does, Saul will retreat to his own quarters for a shower and a reheated dinner, separate, alone. He reaches for her arm before his mind can catch up with his impulses.

Farah darts a questioning glance his way, but Saul settles on his choice, drawing her close, one hand around her waist, the other lacing their fingers, close enough he can feel her when he takes a deep enough breath.

“Saul,” her tone is soft, laced with amusement, as though she thinks he’s being funny. The lightest tug on their linked hands, an attempt to get him to let go, to put an end to this playful physical banter, but Saul holds tight, otherwise she’ll truly think he’s kidding. She stills when he holds her tighter, perhaps feels the shift within their bond when he ducks his head to the side of her face.

“Dance with me?” He asks, barely a whisper across the shell of her ear. Her fingers are loose in his own, but then she returns his grip and Saul takes that as a yes, tugging them far enough from the archways not to be seen, steps following the melody of the music wafting up to them. Neither are strangers to the grandiose functions Luna throws, and there are many a night between their shared history of similar dances as this, but none have ever felt this special, this intimate. Perhaps the girls have finished cleaning and gone to bed, perhaps the music has stopped, it hardly matters, their steps slowing to a gentle sway, Farah’s hand on his shoulder, head on his chest, tree sap be damned, his own arms still wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close. It’s a spell neither wants to break, but the answer as to whether the girls have left is answered with the jarring crash of a mop bucket and disgruntled blame that has Farah jolting in his arms, coming back to herself and where they are, what they’re doing. She makes to pull away, and ordinarily, Saul would let her without question or protest. This time, he doesn’t.

“Saul-”

“If I let you go, I’m worried you’ll run, and we’ll never talk about this again.”

There’s a brief pause before Farah tips her head back to look at him, “Talk about what? I can’t-”

“I’ll say it,” Saul threatens, lips a hair’s breadth from her own, leaning purposefully into the space she’s created, “Because I think you’re ready to hear it.”

He pulls back himself only to look at her properly, “Are you?”

The lack of response in their bond is expected, Farah keeping her cards close to her chest, just as she always has, terrified of revealing the heart she carries on her sleeve at the risk of getting hurt. But Saul’s tired of waiting, tired of wanting. He loosens his hold, a silent warning, and an out, if she wants it. He’s almost sure she will, as she has before.

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it,” Farah repeats, and Saul leans forward again.

“I love you.”

She closes the distance between them, hands on his shoulders, his on her hips, angling immediately to deepen the kiss they’ve waited too long to share. He splays his hands across her back; hers slide up his neck into his hair, tug him impossibly closer so he’s leaned the slightest bit over her, their heights almost matched, breaking only when air becomes an absolute necessity.

“I love you too,” she’s breathless, and her pins are loose; Saul wants nothing more than to slide them free from her hair and that he might get the chance has a smile tugging insistently at his lips.

“Well?” Farah demands, and Saul chuckles softly.

“I… have sap on my shirt. And it might’ve gotten in your hair.”

“What?” Farah’s hand flies to her curls and Saul grins, tugging her close to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m teasing. But I wanted to let you know, just in case.”

“It’s easily gotten out, if we head up to my suite,” Farah’s hands fly across the front of his uniform, searching for the offending spot with such light touches it sets him alight. She leans to breathe into his ear, “I guarantee you won’t need it anyway.”

And in case he has any misconceptions about her intentions, her fingers grasp meaningfully at the hem of his jumper; Saul huffs impatiently, biting back a groan, and tugs her hands up to his chest.

“You’ll be the death of me woman.”

“Not until I’m done with you,” she whispers against his lips, and he tugs her close to capture them in his own, leading her further down the hallway and up the stairs, before the girls really do finish with their cleaning. Or not-cleaning. Saul finds he doesn’t really care either way.

[mc-lukanette]

I haven’t watched the new episode but I heard it was awful. Do you have a fix-it that I can pretend is canon?

- Marinette is stressed, and extremely so; her schedule is more hectic and the kwami have been keeping her busy with teaching her any guardian rules/lessons they know from their limited knowledge that she might not have gotten from Fu since he hadn’t had the time to teach her due to what happened.

- Because of these factors, her dates with Luka have often been interrupted and constantly replanned, only the cinema date being anywhere near complete due to her giving him the guitar pick necklace. Luka is trying to be respectful and not pry, but can’t help being disappointed whenever she leaves.

- Eventually, Luka talks to her on the matter, concerned for where she goes and how she always seems anxious when she does. Marinette assures him that she adores him, but she has... things that she has to do, and even though she wishes so badly for it to be different, she’s forced into this situation and she’s so sorry for it.

- Luka is pained by the secret she’s forced to keep, but gives her a sad smile and ends the conversation there. She can tell that he’s putting on a brave face from the slump as he walks away.

- Later on, Marinette is walking down an empty street, muttering to Tikki about the situation, when an unfamiliar form descends from above and lands in front of her. Tikki quickly conceals herself and Marinette goes on the defensive, recognizing that this must be an akuma. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?!”

- The akuma reaches out... and gently takes her hand in his. “We have a date planned today, Marinette, and I want to make sure that we get to finish it this time.” “...W-what? Wait--Luka?”

- In that instance, someone from a distance screams at the sight of the akumatized Luka, yelling for someone to call Ladybug. Luka faces them, muttering, “You’re disrupting us,” his sentimonster helper using their ability to make the person and even the phone they were trying to use go completely silent, much to their shock. Roger, who was nearby at the time, approaches and gives a speech about defending Paris, then tries to attack Luka, but Luka uses his own power to flash Roger back to where he was a minute ago (meaning Luka’s sentimonster is an equivalent to Silencer whereas Luka himself is similar to Viperion); this happens to put Roger in the middle of the street - where he’d originally been directing traffic - and he has to dodge an oncoming car.

- “Luka!” Marinette states, panicked. “You can’t do this! You’re akumatized, you’re not thinking!” In response, Luka settles his hand on her shoulder. “I’m thinking perfectly well, and all I can think is about how you’re so burdened by something that I could never help you with. Now I can, and I’ll stop anyone or anything from bothering you or interrupting us, so we can have the date you deserve.”

- It’s at that moment that Marinette realizes that this akuma literally just wants her to have a nice time and that’s the sweetest freaking thing she’s ever heard.

- She can’t help being torn. On one hand, this is an akuma who will inevitably cause havoc, and she stops akuma as Ladybug... but on the other, this is Luka and she’s so touched and this is an offer for them to finally have a date not interrupted by an akuma because he IS an akuma, and she’s felt so bad ditching him before so this is a chance to remedy that.

- Marinette can see Tikki peering at her judgementally from her purse, but the opportunity is too tempting to pass up and Marinette agrees to go on a date with him, exciting Luka as he enthusiastically tugs her closer so they can walk together.

- Cue montage of Luka recreating their dates, though this time where she can actually enjoy them without interruption. Luka and his sentimonster occasionally use their powers and Marinette clearly hesitates, but he dotes on her so much that it’s hard for her to not want to continue their dates.

- Meanwhile, Shadow Moth probably: Wh--where the heck is Ladybug???? (there’s also probably a moment where Luka mentions Shadow Moth and Marinette uses the opportunity to gather some information)

- During one of the recreated dates, Chat Noir shows up and manages to snatch Marinette away, jumping up and out of harm’s way while trying to find a place to hide. He ducks into an alleyway and is about to go on about how neat his save was when Marinette huffs and asks, “What do you think you’re doing?!” “...U-uh, saving you?” “I didn’t need saving! We were on a date!” “You were on a what now.” “Chat Noir, it’s very rude to interrupt someone’s date. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m still stuck on the fact that you said you were dating an akuma--”

- At that moment, a hand clamps down on Chat Noir shoulder. He stiffens and turns, seeing Luka there and very much not happy. Luka squints, asking lowly, “What did you call her?”

- Chat Noir can only weakly look back at Marinette, who waves apologetically at him right before he’s yeet’d off into the distance. The sentimonster gives chase.

- Marinette does eventually leap into action as Ladybug once she recognizes that okay this was amazing and incredible and I’m officially de-stressed but Luka is akumatized and there is definitely a rule against Ladybug dating supervillains.

- Naturally, when Ladybug arrives, Luka’s first concern is what happened to Marinette. Ladybug tries to get him to back down and points out that he won’t even remember any of this once de-akumatized, but Luka insists that, “It’s okay. Marinette will remember.”

- Ladybug is internally like okay but can you not, I’m trying to fight you here and you’re making it difficult.

- Ladybug tries to negotiate/convince Luka into getting de-akumatized, until Chat Noir shows up on the scene again, the sentimonster following after. The fight itself is significally difficult and limiting; if they make any loud, disruptive noises, they’ll be silenced, but if they try to fight Luka directly/physically, he can zap them back to where they were a minute prior; knowing Luka, he could even engineer it so that one of them perhaps gets trapped if they’re not careful.

- Post-deakumatization, Marinette meets up with Luka and gives him a long overdue kiss. Luka is stunned, having been prepared to apologize for getting akumatized, and asks her what he did to deserve it, to which Marinette explains that he’s amazing and she’s happy to have him.

- They end up talking and Luka apologizes for trying to pry about her secret, but explains about his dad and the mystery behind his identity (foreshadowing the conflict for a future episode: I'd have the whole Jagged thing be a different episode so it gets proper focus). Marinette insists that she understands and he has nothing to apologize for, but pauses and laments that their dates might very well continue to be interrupted.

- Luka hesitantly starts to ask if she thinks it’d be best if they broke up, but Marinette cuts him off to insist otherwise. She wants to make this work with him but it’s complicated and she literally (stressing that it’s not a trust issue) cannot tell him why she leaves all the time. Luka smiles reassuringly and points out that a perfect song doesn’t exist and that every song goes through edits. Marinette asks what he means and Luka explains that he can’t help wanting to be selfish and spend time with her, but also that the knowledge of them dating is enough.

- Marinette, considering this, realizes that - yeah - not going on dates doesn’t mean they can’t be in a loving relationship, and maybe they can stop planning dates and get together right after she deals with akuma instead. She’s been a mess because of stress and that’s caused even more problems, so it doesn’t make sense to cause herself more stress by breaking up with Luka; she needs to take care of herself.

- The episode ends with Marinette in her room, some of the kwami being a bit chaotic/loud but Marinette being completely unphased and talking excitedly to Luka on the phone about their recent date “after that crazy akuma attack,” as Luka can’t hear the kwami due to their voices not breaking through technology.

[mcheang]

Lila doesn't know that Luka is Juleka's brother so she tries claiming that he is a delinquent and a bad influence on Marinette.

Gossip report

One day when Lila was leaving school, pondering on how to steal Adrien from Kagami, she spotted Marinette talking to a boy with blue hair and a guitar.

He was obviously older and definitely cute.

Nearby two girls were whispering about how lucky Marinette was to have this senior student asking her out.

Well, Lila certainly hates it when the spotlight isn’t on her.

Later that day, while hanging out with the girls (because Marinette was definitely out on a date), Lila tried to be the one to start the gossip chain.

Lila: hey girls, I don’t want to alarm anyone but do you think Marinette will be fine with Adrien off the market?

The girls exchanged shrugs. “She’ll be fine. She’ll move on.”

Lila feigned concern. “That’s what i am worried about. I think Marinette is so heartbroken, she’ll give her heart to anyone who gives her the time of day. I just saw her after school talking to some high school dropout.”

Pause.

Juleka: what did he look like?

Lila: he had blue hair, rode a bike (let them think it’s a motorcycle) and wore grungy clothes. *gasp*

Alix: and what makes you think he’s a bad influence?

Lila saw her pink hair and quickly backtracked on looks. “I could tell by his face. He looks so smug, arrogant and sneaky. The kind of boy you see smoking and dealing with drugs.”

Juleka: I see...

Lila: so you see, we must interfere on Marinette’s behalf, before his claws are in too deep.

Or at least they will because everyone knows Marinette will never listen to Lila.

Juleka was using her phone and at last found an image of Luka, alone at one of his favorite rock concerts. The background was dim and he was making faces for the camera.

Juleka: was this the boy you saw?

Lila: that’s him! What do you girls think? Delinquent or what?

Mylène: i think you should give him a chance. Don’t be deceived by appearances.

Lila: trust me! I’m a good judge of character. This boy is bad news. He’s the type of guy who ends up in jail and drunk.

Rose decided to intervene. “He’s also Juleka’s brother.”

Oh....

Alya: maybe you should check your facts before you go spreading rumors.

Lila’s brain: hypocrite!

Lila: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I just got so worried for Marinette.

Mylene: we understand Lila. But Luka’s a genuinely sweet boy.

Rose: all the girls at his school like him

Alix: he’s a real artist, in a musical way

Alya: he’s a member of Kitty Section and the songwriter of their songs

Juleka: and he’s a great judge of character. If he doesn’t like somebody, we don’t like him. It’s a band thing.

Lila sweatdropped. “Oh. Well I can’t wait to make his acquaintance and get to know him better.” Maybe she could make Marinette look bad to him and he could tell Kitty Section?

Alya: no worries. Luka’s taking Marinette back here for guitar lessons

Lila: great (at this line, even I can’t tell if she is sincere or not)

Luka and Marinette arrived on his bike. His travel worn jacket and ripped jeans hardly a cause for alarm. Beneath his bright blue hair were darker, soulful eyes.

The moment they stepped through the door and saw Lila, Marinette predictably scowled and Luka surprisingly flinched.

Before Lila could start charming him, Juleka beat her to it with a request to help him keep his bicycle. (As if. Their boat was cluttered and he could have dumped his bike anywhere.)

The moment they were alone, sister asked brother. “What was her music?”

Luka winced. “Loud. Very loud. Like fire alarm loud that you can’t hear anything else.”

Juleka: she sounded like a fire alarm?

Luka: no, she sounded like screechy violins. Like a novice attempting to be Mozart on her first try, and in vain.

Juleka nodded, worry wrinkling her brow. “I understand.”

Juleka headed back to the group and clapped her hands. “So sorry everyone. But it’s time for a band meeting. So everyone who isn’t Kitty Section, I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave soon.”

Alix: no worries. I can meet up with Nathaniel at the museum.

Alya: and I have to be at a date with Nino anyway.

Mylène: I’ll go call Ivan over.

Lila frowned, correctly assuming Luka didn’t like her and told Juleka. “Is it because of me? Does Luka doesn’t like me?” Cue crocodile tears.

Juleka quickly reassured her. “No. No. He just isn’t used to Italian music, and he’s been very cautious about creating music since Bob Roth. So only band members are allowed.”

Lila: but why isn’t Marinette leaving with us?

Marinette: i have to see them to perform to think of what costumes i have to design for them.

Lila’s brain: darn, she has a legit excuse.

Lila: please, can’t I stay?

This time it was Rose who spoke. Kindly, but firmly. “Sorry Lila. But this is strictly band business. Besides, aren’t you meeting with the president’s daughter online soon? To discuss charity options?”

Lila hid her rage. “Right. Thanks for reminding me.”

As Lila expected, and to Marinette’s surprise, for the rest of the afternoon, Kitty Section warned the rest of their class not to trust Lila. Alix and Alya were already suspicious about her since she tried to malign Luka, and his reaction just confirmed it.

Alya finally fact checked her work and took down Lila’s interview, apologising for posting false information.

Nino told Adrien, who already knew. Nino warned Adrien to tell the truth next time because tabloid gossip is different from deceiving friends.

The next day at school, Lila didn’t bother to show. When Caline reported she was ill, the class finally told her she was a liar and is probably lying now.

Caline: do you have proof?

Alya: yes! And if she’s been lying about Ali, she’s been skipping school for months.

Caline finally became serious. “Well then I shall have to contact her mother.”

Alya smirked. “As Vice President I already sent her an email (double checking the embassy website) asking for confirmation if her daughter had really been in Achu for months. Because after her lie about being Ladybug’s best friend (I attached the video link) and her claims of being Prince’s Ali’s buddy, I am skeptical of her claim to be in Achu for all that time.”

Caline’s frowned deepened.

But as it turns out, Caline needn’t have called Mrs Rossi because she dragged her daughter to school to see the principal after she opened her company email and saw the video. Her colleagues told her what was up and even how her own daughter had been akumatized more than once.

It’s a shame they didn’t get to see the scolding happen. But Mrs Rossi forced Lila to tell the whole class the truth. As Lila had been missing so many classes, Kim pointed out there was no way she could graduate unless she took summer school and make up classes.

Lila protested she already saw the online video lessons.

But Mrs Rossi corrected that Lila wasn’t just going to graduate, she had been expelled for tampering with official documents.

Lila sulked and accepted her fate.

Mrs Rossi reminded her daughter that it was worse than she thought because no school would accept a pathological liar with a record for truancy except the ones prepared for such misbehaving cases.

Alix snorted. “Karma! She called Luka bad news and now she’s heading for a school for troubled kids.”

Indeed, Lila’s new school life was miserable. She couldn’t skip without someone finding her and dragging her back to a class that would laugh at her and an unsympathetic teacher. And where everyone knew of her condition, nobody believed anything she said. Her mother won’t even believe her when she reports she is being bullied. Not when the teacher didn’t think calling Lila a liar is bullying, especially when she keeps coming into class with fake doctor notes, painted blood, self-inflicted scratches, and loose bandages. Seriously, bullying is seriously monitored. Beyond the name calling, nobody actually harms Lila because she always tries to harm herself anyway.

She is like the class jester, giving them a free show. And the punishments for actual bullying are so severe that nobody dares do it.