#but i don't know how i feel about it here and i can't figure out if that's just because i haven't gotten far enough with it yet

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[alchemistc]

Everything's so damn dark when the blindfold slips off that for a second she can't see a thing.

Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't hurt the baby.

Something groans at her feet and she startles straight into the pipe behind her head.

"'lo?" A voice asks, familiar enough to give her pause, and she wonders for a moment if this is a joke, if this is a trick, if this - "s'there?"

His words are slurred. A concussion, maybe, then. Great. Biggest man she knows and he's gonna be a useless pile of puke to her.

Don't panic, Maddie reminds herself, and then she starts giggling.

"Tommy?"

He groans an affirmative.

"Oh good. I feel a lot better about getting overpowered, now."

A hand grabs for her ankle and Maddie bites back a scream. It's Tommy's hand, big and warm and - fully unbound, which feels a little unfair. "Cunt drugged me," he says, then pauses. Squeezes her ankle. "Sorry for the language."

"No, it's, uh - I think it's warranted this time."

Maddie can't remember exactly how it'd happened to her. Had she been hit? Is she injured? She does a mental tally. Her lip feels swollen. Nose and eyes feel fine, though, so maybe she bit it? Neck, shoulders, all good. She's been bending her elbows and wrists just fine, she just doesn't have the leverage to do anything about the zip ties keeping her affixed to the probably pipe behind her. Hips, legs, knees. She wiggles her toes and in the darkness Tommy chuckles. "Everything accounted for?"

He must have done his own check while she was working through hers. She can hear him rustling around. "I'm still incredibly mad at you, but it's nice to hear your voice," she says, and Tommy goes still. "Tommy? All good?"

"...why are you mad at me?"

"Like you don't know?" Oh. Actually maybe she is more mad than she is glad. "You broke my brother's heart, idiot. I don't have any more room in my entire house for the coping mechanism he's come up with." She kicks, a little. Tommy grunts and shifts. "I hope that hit something painful and non-essential to our escape."

"He's - he'll be fine."

"What exactly is your definition of fine? Because it's been a few months and he's still bringing me baked goods on a bi-weekly basis."

"Bi-weekly like -."

"Do not get pedantic on me, Kinard. Two times a week. What's your status? Moving parts all still moving?"

"I think my balls have taken a vacation, but that's more a reflection on how terrifying you are than on this current situation."

Flippant. Sarcasm in the face of Maddie trying to get a full picture. Buck had called him funny and charming. Maddie's second kick doesn't land, but only because he's got a hand wrapped around her foot. "Once we're out of here, I'm gonna punch you in the face."

He hums. "For the balls comment, or the cunt thing?"

Maddie shrugs. Remembers that he can't see it. "Which part of 'broke my brother's heart' are you not getting?"

He sounds like he's moving gingerly. She can hear heavy bulky fabric rustle and she wonders if he's in three layers like usual. She could use something warm. "I - figured he'd be over it by now."

Maddie snorts. If she had to make a guess, Tommy glowers at the noise. "Dumbass."

And then it hits her. "The cunt? Skinny, brunette, pretty? Kind of...angular face?"

Tommy hums and takes her weight as she tries to kick again. "Sounds like her."

"Oh, Buck's gonna be pissed and embarrassed. She's rebound attempt number two."

Tommy's silent long enough that Maddie has to check in. He hums, and goes back to silence. "Rebound attempt?"

"If you hadn't noticed, we've actually been kidnapped, so maybe I can save your relationship afterwards?"

"I think she was trying to kill me," Tommy admits. "Otherwise why am I unbound in this shitty Saw knockoff?"

Maddie feels some extra pieces dropping into place. Oh, Buck is never gonna live this down actually.

"Can you overpower her if she comes in?"

"If she's not quick to try to drug me again. If I can figure out where the fucking door is. If -."

"A yes or no is fine. Pretty sure she's the Bay Butcher, if that helps you answer."

His pause is long. "...maybe," he says, and accepts the kick this time without block or protest.

[hai7ani]

Continuation | cw bonten universe, smut, sex work, murder, mdni

愛的最高境界是心疼

i. Earned It

Rindou is gentle with you today.

He always is, though 一 he never goes too far with you even in bed. He never treats you less than a human. He says one thing the night before, make you overwork yourself like the Daddy he is, and the next morning you'll find a few extra digits than what was originally promised sitting pretty in your bank account. Rindou is always gentle and generous with you.

His hands are sweet and sticky as they latch onto your skin, never letting go off your arms while he wipes you down gently in the bath. He rubs your cheek with wet thumbs and combs your hair with so much care in the world. He has never once tugged on them as harshly as the man did; never once hit you for pleasure in his own bed. Never. Maybe a few spanks on your ass here and there as a little foreplay or when you're being a tease, but he never hits you.

Rindou is so gentle with you.

"How's your throat?" He asks. Your bubble pops and you look at him dazed. "Still hurts?" He reaches a hand up to check on your skin. You move your neck away before his hands can reach you 一 almost as if you're scared.

He feels a foreign ache creep up his chest. His heart palpitates weirdly behind his bones. Your pupils dilate and you hide your neck with your arms. You shiver despite the warm water engulfing your body.

You are so frightened.

"I-" You swallow, feeling the sour ache going down your throat and you rub on your neck unconsciously, eyes squinting as you wait for the pain to pass. "I'm fine." Your voice is hoarse, very deep and broken, and he almost didn't hear you.

"The doctor's waiting out front. Want him to check?" He doesn't buy into your white lie at all. It's obvious it still hurts a lot and you won't let him touch you, or even see you. But you nod anyway and his shoulders relaxes a little.

ii. Million Dollar Man

"You're fucking insane!" Kokonoi is furious when Rindou waltzes into the room. "Blowing off a multi-million dollar deal for a whore, you're fucking nuts, Rindou!"

Mario Ricci is tied up against a wall, mouth stuffed with a bloody rag cloth as he struggles against the tight ropes wrapped around his figure.

"Yet you didn't proceed with it?" He questions in a sarcastic tone, an eyebrow raised and Kokonoi scoffs. "How could I? Gotta let these bastards know Bonten can't be fucked with. If I let him go more people will do it again."

Kakucho clicks his tongue from where he seats, next to Takeomi who is busy rolling up a blunt. "The deal is off the table now. No point arguing. We'll kill this guy and move on to the next. Keep everything quiet."

He stands, calves pushing against the heavy chair and it screeches loudly, sharply, against the concrete floor.

"But what about you?" His voice is low and dark when he addresses Rindou. He stares him dead in the eye.

"You're the reason why we have no deal. What are you going to do about it?"

The air is humid with Kakucho's anger 一 everyone in the room knows that much. For once, Sanzu is silent. He does not mess with his weapons loudly nor does he make a noise to pitch in his idea. Mochi's eyes are bright and sharp from where they burn holes into Rindou's back 一 he can feel the sting already. Ran is leaning against the wall behind Rindou while he plays with his set of keys in his pockets.

But Rindou remains stoic from his position. He is not afraid of Kakucho at all. He eyes the gun on the table next to him and snatches it off, soon realising that it belongs to Kakucho himself.

"I'll kill him, since that's what you want."

He aims for Mario's neck in one swift motion upon loading the gun. He sees the shimmer of desperation in his orbs, and he struggles to escape even further. His voice is muffled against the cloth shoved deep into his mouth but Rindou still hears him clearly.

"Please don't kill me."

"You're a fucking moron." And he pulls the trigger.

iii. Love song

Rindou returns to his quarters very late into the night. You're still up at this hour despite having taken heavy meds a couple of hours ago, when he'd monitor you swallow the pills with an immense amount of pain in your throat.

He finds you in his kitchen scavenging through the cabinets and fridge for a little something to eat, like a sneaky little alley cat. His penthouse is ice cold, the servants have taken their leave long ago, and he dismisses Tsuji, his trusted right-hand, with a wave and an assuring nod.

Your sleeping gown (one that he got for you as a gift) hugs your curves beautifully under the white fluffy cardigan you like to keep yourself warm with.

He watches in silence, hiding behind a wall as you simply be yourself, alone, away from the eyes of just anyone at all. You give up scurrying for seasoning after a while, settling for the bowl of plain white porridge a servant had prepared for you earlier.

Rindou watches as you lean against the countertop and play with your feet, crack your toes out of habit, hum a soft melody, as you slowly eat your food. It's endearing to see you like this. You're quiet, you're calm, but you're alone and you're by yourself 一 and a smile nobody has ever seen him do stretches across his lips when you put down the bowl to do a little twirl. Your humming gets louder and he recognises the tune shortly 一 one that you have always liked playing on the piano sitting in his massive living room.

You're a slut, but you're also just a girl.

iv. Glory Box

Rindou is still so gentle tonight when he wraps you in a blanket and smooths a warm hand down the back of your head. Your scalp is still sore, so he doesn't run his fingers through your locks this time.

You're almost asleep when he makes a noise. Low, but comforting. His chest vibrates against your cheek.

"Do you want to leave?"

You're confused by his question. "Where?" You move your head away from his chest and look at him 一 eyes clouded with sleep, and you blink twice to see him properly again under the moonlight. The windows are closed but he left the curtains open. He likes doing that a lot.

"Follow another man, pleasure him instead. Or just leave, find something else to do. Pick one. I'm giving you a chance to live."

His voice is stern and this is how he chooses to start the conversation 一 by threatening to kill you if you do not make a choice right now. He is sudden and he is stubborn.

It's not like you want to, anyway. You're not afraid of him.

"No." You frown. "I want to stay here, with you."

He is nonchalant at your response, and you look like you're about to cry.

He does not respond or react.

"Are you giving me away?" You push.

Rindou finally lets out a breath he did not know he was holding in when the first tear finally rolls off your rosy cheek. "Please don't give me away. I'll be good, even more better for you. Today was a mistake. I didn't know anyone would be there. I was waiting for you to come."

He hates that you're blaming yourself for what happened to you earlier.

He hates that you're downplaying your trauma just to amuse him and make himself feel better, a little trick you had learned to use during your time while working in this industry.

He isn't enlightened, not at all 一 because he knows exactly what you're doing.

He'd ended the life of the man who'd put you in pain, but it does not mean that killing Mario Ricci would take the pain away from you.

The foreign ache from earlier has not once subsided from his chest. It remains, sometimes growing even more suffocating and frustrating. Like when he had to sit through the meeting hearing Kokonoi and Kakucho 一 mostly Kokonoi because he was at the scene, and he is still very unsatisfied with Rindou's behaviour 一 going back and forth about getting rid of you like you're just some giveaway slut because they claim he is being distracted from the real job at hand, while his eyes are constantly flickering between the two who are shoving accusing fingers in his face and the leash that Mario Ricci had tied you in sitting at the corner of the room.

You have managed to engrave yourself in all parts of his heart 一 every little nook and cranny, you are there.

The girl he's tried sleeping with earlier to make himself feel a little less bad about having to kill you as an apology to Mikey, doesn't feel the same. He keeps telling himself that you are just like any other girl from the many who are working under Bonten's establishments.

Yet the second he pushes in, he pulls out, away, and he leaves. He throws her a stack of cash anyway and makes his way back immediately.

Because she isn't you. She does not look at him like you do. To her, he is just like any other rich man paying her for quick pleasure. To you, he is everything gentle and soft and warm.

You have managed to capture his attention the first few nights you've spent together 一 two years ago, as a temporary replacement for the girl he had originally booked for that night.

And then he keeps coming back. Again and again for two whole years, and now you're looking at him like he'd just broken your heart. His heart beats wildly in his chest and he ushers for you to come closer to him.

The way you would hold onto him while he drills into you frustrates him. He likes that you always let him have his way in bed, but manages to make him cater to your likes in the end every single time, and he has to remind himself that he is the one paying for your services, but he never cares, because it's you. He puts an extra zero when transferring funds into your account and he handpicks your gifts. Your eyes are always so glossy and full of hearts when they'd gaze into his purples. Your mewls are always so sweet and only for his ears when you'd try to moan quietly even when you're alone in his lonely, freezing penthouse.

And you won’t fucking leave him.

You're a gentle, quiet girl, and you make him want to be gentle and quiet with you too.

You straddle him and pin him to the bed. You want him to take you seriously this time. "I am yours." You try to make yourself sound stern but your lips end up pouty and red and hot tears are dripping on his face.

He tried to, really. He really wants to take you seriously. But the collar of your dress is low and your milky breasts are showing. Your lips are so kissable and he folds.

He presses one hand down your back and guides your upper body closer to him.

"You don't wanna leave?" He asks, rhetorically. His voice is muffled when he buries his face in your mounds to kiss and suck on your tits. He sneaks a hand up under your dress to fondle with them, to grope your soft flesh and listen to you whine like an angel on his lap.

"Don't wanna." You pout.

He reaches under your dress to rub a sweet thumb on your clit 一 messy figure-eights and sticky circles, pressing down just the way you like it 一 through the thin fabric of your panties and watch as you unfold so beautifully before his eyes.

His favourite, pretty girl.

His heart starts beating normally again. It hasn't beaten like this for a very long time 一 not since he was a teen.

Haitani Rindou wonders just when did he ever lose the ability to love.

"You'll be my liability now."

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Maybe he did go a little too far but he fucking warned her! Gave her plenty of time to back off and she was ready to throw hands with him.

Adam can't worry about her feelings right now, they have more important matters to deal with.

Adam: Anyway...... I can bring Eve back here and see if she can help.

Angel: Im still trying to figure out how you managed to marry her.

Adam: I assure you it was not a fully mutual marriage.

It was before Adam was an overlord and he's pretty sure she drugged him into getting married.

Charlie: How do you know where she is?

Adam pulled out his phone: She texts me every day. I don't answer because she's nuts, doesn't matter how many times I change my number

Lucifer finished healing Lute and looked at all the unread messages. Fuck Eve, desperate much?

Lucifer: I hope she's willing to help.

Adam answered a text: Guess we'll find out.

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We have officially entered another bangers only era for Japanese queer media; I am loving all of these currently airing shows. These are all streaming on Gaga or provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Our Youth

This show is killing me with the quiet yearning and the push and pull and Hirukawa's whole entire deal. The way Hirukawa and Minase keep drawing closer together before stepping back. The way they have created their own little bubble in Minase's home, and how they can't be that way together in other spaces. The way Hirukawa is so desperate to be close to Minase and Minase clearly wants it too, but doesn't really understand himself yet and so keeps rejecting it. I was so sad when Hirukawa admitted he provoked his dad on purpose so that Minase would let him back in; I hope Minase will ease off on the barriers from here on out. I know something bad is coming and I just want them to have a little bit of happiness before we get there.

Love is Like a Poison

The battle couple was tested this week as we finally found out Haruto's connection to this case with an assist from the lady restaurant owner, his past as a con artist was revealed to Shiba's employer, and Shiba's boss demanded that he cut ties. I was so very proud of Shiba when he did not waver about what is most important to him, and worried when Haruto took off and left his ring behind. I'm keeping the faith, though; I don't think Haruto is leaving Shiba.

Love in the Air Koi

Okay, first of all, let me get a scream out about that sex scene, because good god did they deliver. Nagumo Shoma is a gift to us all (I will be seeing that back roll in my dreams), and I thought their chemistry now that Rei has figured himself out was fantastic. The whole sequence from the time they left the race track was beautifully shot and performed, and the intimacy felt very real. Aside from the sex, one of the things I like most about this narrative is the belief that a relationship can be the reason you get your life together rather than a distraction from your goals. Rei has all the skills, but he's been lacking focus and drive, and that's exactly what Arashi is giving him. I really liked the way this episode weaved their different subplots together to show them both working toward something, and how their success brought them together in the end. They are good for each other! I also really loved all the Rei and Kai moments in this episode, and that Kai continues to be a perceptive and supportive friend. Kai's own story is coming soon, and we got our first glimpses of it at the end of today's episode. I'm impressed with how this adaptation has streamlined the story to cover every important beat in half the time without ever short changing the relationships.

The Fragrance You Inherit

This week Sakura was reunited with her long lost love via their scheming children, and I loved every minute. My favorite thing about this drama is the relationship writing. Sakura and Toki have such a lovely bond, and I like that he realized after surprising his mom with Mone that it may have been insensitive, and that he cared enough to check in with her about it. Sakura is also a great mom, supportive of his relationship and sensitive to his feelings even as she is grappling with her own shock at this reunion. I also really love that Sakura has such a good friend in Ryosuke (who continues to flag as queer to me). I'm excited to get to know Mone better as an adult and see where the story takes us. You can find the show here, with big thanks as always to @isaksbestpillow for providing English subs.

[jlle-marie]

here’s a part of my underground!levi x reader fic i’m working on (part one should be posted soon btw) but i needed to share this little extract which deserves its own post <3

(it’s a long fic called "I'll meet you under blue sky" about meeting levi in the underground city before he joins the scouts and where you once lived above the ground) this scene comes later in the story and can be understood on its own. angsty fic but this part is just fluff, so enjoy! wc: 1k

When Levi walks through the door of your home, his ODM gear still firmly attached to his body, you can't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. A glint of mischief passes through your eyes as you watch him.

“So you're a soldier now, huh?” you decide to tease him today, a faint smile on your lips.

He fixes you with his usual impassive gaze, but there's a hint of reaction in his eyes, something almost imperceptible. “Not exactly, it’s just useful here,” he replies dryly, “So you do know this,” he states calmly, his deep voice hinting at an interest he rarely shows.

Your smile widens for a moment. “Of course I know, it's the military's gear. But... you, on the other hand, aren't supposed to know,” you reply, questioning him with your eyes, suddenly intrigued.

Levi walks into the room, approaching the table where you're standing. He raises an eyebrow, a look of challenge on his face. “I know more than you think,” he replies.

You feel your heart beating faster, your curiosity piqued. “I don't doubt it,”  you murmur as you stare at him, a mixture of admiration and questioning in your eyes. The idea that he could have access to something so rare and dangerous fascinates you.

“Do you want to know how it works?” he asks, without really expecting an answer, his hands already starting to undo the straps.

“Are you going to give me a lesson, soldier?” a smile lights up your face as you joke again.

A slight sneer grazes Levi’s lips, almost against his will. “Let’s say it's my turn to teach you something”.

You've never touched this stuff in your life, so you put on the gear, trying to figure out where each strap fits. Levi watches carefully as you try to adjust to the equipment, his gaze settling on your clumsy movements.

“Don't rush it,” he says, pointing to the too-loose strap hanging over your chest. “This thing needs a good fit.”

You look up at him, a little embarrassed, but he seems relaxed, almost calm in his role. Without a word, he takes the strap from your hands and begins to adjust it for you, his movements confident and precise. He adjusts the strap around your chest, tightening slightly so that it's comfortable, but not too much pressure.

“Of course…” you say, trying to hide the slight tremor in your voice as he moves closer to adjust the straps around you. He's taking care of every detail, and you feel almost embarrassed to be so incompetent in this area.

Despite his impassive expression, Levi feels his heart beating a little too fast for his liking. Every move he makes to adjust the equipment brings him closer to you, and he does his best to keep calm.

His eyes roam over the gear now suitably installed on your body before he steps forward to stand behind you . “Here, I'll show you how it works,” he begins to explain.

Behind you, his body almost pressed against your back, he's so close you can feel the warmth of his presence. It's almost strange, this light touch, and you force yourself to ignore the heat that invades your face. He speaks in a low voice, his breath occasionally grazing the back of your neck.

“Here, place one hand on either side…” He raises an arm and points to the handles on the belt of the gear. “Yes, like that…” He seems to be concentrating, but you sense a certain tension in his movements, as if he too were not completely at ease.

“It has to be stable... If you're comfortable... it's easier to control.”

You try to understand everything he's saying, but the way he's moving around you, his precise, methodical gestures, throw you off balance. You nod, but your voice betrays you, hesitant. “Erm... I think…”

Levi tilts his head, “What? I thought you wanted to try out the gear properly, didn't you?” he says, deliberately choosing to tease you, pretending not to notice your little reaction.

He gets a soft laugh from you in response and feels a little satisfaction, continuing to guide you slowly so that you fully understand how to do it.

“Here the kind of cylinders at the back,” Levi explains, his hands moving to show you the gas trigger that's attached to the belt around your hips. “When you want to pull a grapple cable, you have to hold the controller here,” he says, pointing to the mechanism on the belt.

Levi places his hand on your waist to steady your grip, “It's just like when you showed me how to hold a pencil to write,” he mutters, his fingers hovering close to your skin.

His words pull a small from you though the faint brush of his touch sends a shiver through you. You try not to pay attention, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Levi inhales slowly, as if to remind himself that he's in control. “Don't move so much,” he murmurs when he feels the slight tremors of your body against his chest as you laugh once more.

But the warmth of your back against him, the way your movements disturb him slightly... he can't help wondering if you feel it too. He sighs slightly without meaning to, but he can't help feeling a little... lost.

With the feeling of his breath fanning over your neck, a sudden and unwanted thought creeps in—what would it feel like if his lips brushed your skin? If he pressed them, just lightly— You shift abruptly, trying to shake off the embarrassing thought by adjusting the equipment. With a sudden movement your hands slip, sending part of the gear clattering to the ground.

This creates a metallic noise that makes you jump. “Sorry!” You scramble to pick up the fallen pieces, the feeling of embarrassment overwhelming you even more.

Levi sighs softly, “It's all right.” He leans over to help you put things back. 

“It's just…” Levi hesitates for a moment, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he looks away. “The gear's easier to wear if you don't panic.”

You try to regain your composure, even though his relaxed demeanor only accentuates your unease. For the first time, you realize how unapproachable and calm he seems to you, while you can't even hold the gear properly.

“It's just that it's so heavy…” you murmur, trying to hide your embarrassment with an explanation that's only half true.

Levi nods, a slight smile on his face, as if he finds the situation a little funny, but he doesn't say anything more. He just looks at you, his presence surprisingly reassuring despite your obvious awkwardness.

[pr3ttynpiink]

Until I Find You

Prince!Javier Peña x Plus Size!Reader

ꨄ warnings: prince!javi, cinderella au in a way, toxic mothers, plus size reader, if i missed any please let me know!

ꨄ a/n: with all these new gladiator/f4 pics it was giving nothing but prince vibes so i had to. as always if you don't like it don't bite it! and yes- there will be a part 2 🙂‍↕️

Main Masterlist — Javier Peña Masterlist

“Why do we have to go?”

“Because the king and queen are looking for a princess for the prince.” your mother muttered, tightening your dress and pulling a small grunt from your lips. “Told you to lose weight. Who's gonna want a fat princess in the royal family?”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, completely drowning her voice out. She'd been on you for years about your weight but you loved the way you looked- curves and thick thighs, with an ass that was out of this world if you do say so yourself. She kept rambling on but her voice was muffled. You focused on your reflection, admiring how the dress you'd sewn yourself accented your lucious figure.

“Alright.” she muttered, gently patting you on the side and snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Thanks mama!” You grabbed your heels and ran out the back door barefoot, hearing your mother yell to you about not being late to the ceremony. You ran down the pebble sidewalk and into the small forest behind your home, needing a moment before going to the ceremony. What better place to go than into a secluded forest.

—

He sighed, leaning back against a tree as he tucked his sketchbook back into his satchel. He needed a break from it all- the high maintenance from his mother, the castle being swarmed by other royal families he's never seen before- all because he needs to find a princess. As much as he wanted to stay out here, it was only a matter of time before his mother sent out the entire army to look for him.

He stood up, walking back to his horse to head back home when he let out a grunt and fell to the ground.

“Shit.” you grunted, pulling yourself off whoever you just ran into. Your eyes widened in realization, quickly getting off of him- it's the prince. “Prince Javier. I-I'm so so sorry I didn't see you and-”

He let out a small chuckle and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “It's alright. Good thing the ground is soft.” he joked, making you chuckle.

You pulled yourself up to your feet, reaching a hand down to him. He reached up, placing his much bigger hand into yours as he pulled himself up, causing his satchel to fall off his shoulder and his book to fall out. You bent down, picking up his satchel and fallen sketchbook. Your eyes scanned the open page, admiring the detail of his drawing.

“This is beautiful…”

Javier smiled, looking down at the book in your hands. “Thank you. Little hobby of mine.”

“The prince has hobbies?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Believe it or not- yes. Yes I do.”

You looked up at him, getting lost in the sparkle of his deep brown eyes. He admired the soft features of your face, getting lost in your eyes as well. The moment was broken by the sound of the bells echoing through the forest. Javier cleared his throat, gently taking his book from your hands.

“I gotta get going.”

You nodded, watching him as he got back on his horse.

“Hope to see you at the ceremony. Try not to tackle me this time.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks by embarrassment. “No promises.”

—

“Look at you! Your dress is a mess.” your mother pouted as she frantically dusted off the dress. “Ladies don't run off into the forest!”

“Mama-”

“Supposed to be impressing the royal family- not having them think we're poor.”

“Hate to burst your bubble but we are poor mama.” you let out a small hiss at the feel of your mothers hand hitting your bare back.

“We can't have them thinking that.”

You rolled your eyes, slipping on your heels and adjusting the skirt of your dress. “Better?”

She shrugged, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind a bobby pin. “It'll have to do… Remember, smile with your eyes and take that hateful look off your face. And be home before midnight. You know how your father is…”

“Yes mama…” you muttered, turning away from her and walking up the stone pathway that led to the castle. You tried your best to blend into the crowd of girls- all trying to achieve the same result- becoming a princess. You felt a bit out of place from the others. You didn't have perfect skin with sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair. You've always loved the way you looked, but being around others who were the complete opposite kicked your confidence down a few pegs.

The crowd flowed into the ballroom, everyone's eyes going straight to the prize- prince Javier sitting across the room on his chair.

His eyes scanned the room, all the girls looking the same. Some tall, some short, but all with their noses in the air like they're better than anyone here- reminding him of his own mother- which isn't what he wants.

“Javier put it away.” his mother hissed, motioning down to the sketchbook in his lap. He rolled his eyes and closed the book, laying it on the floor behind him.

“You know I'm old enough to do as I please.”

“And until you find yourself a wife- you're doing as I tell you. Now go.” she scolded, pulling a soft sigh from Javier's lips as he got up and walked through the crowd. Everyone greeted him as he walked by, girls practically throwing themselves into his arms trying to get his attention but he politely declined. The closer he got to the doors of the ballroom, the more he could feel his sense of freedom. But then you walked in.

You smiled, giving him a small wave. He smiled back and walked over to you.

“Didn't think to see you here.”

“Thought you could use the company.”

He chuckled, reaching over and grabbing your hand, placing a small kiss on your knuckles. “Happy to see a familiar face.” He looked around and saw his mother was distracted and then looked back at you. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

“What do you have in mind?”

—

You sat in the garden, laughing and talking with Javier for hours and hours. He was the opposite of what you'd thought a prince would be. He made you laugh, made you smile, made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

“I kept you from your ceremony.”

He shrugged, “Better out here then in there with all of them.”

“Saying I made your night?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Definitely.” His eyes trailed down to your lips, slowly leaning in closer. You caught on to what he was wanting to do and you started to lean in, hoping to meet in the middle. Suddenly the bells of the castle rang, pulling your attention to the big clock on the bell tower. Midnight.

“Damnit.” you gasped, quickly getting up and grabbing your heels. “I-I gotta go.”

“Wait-”

“Javi, I'm so sorry, I have to.” you quickly ran out of the garden and down the massive staircase that led to the castle. You'd been so focused on making it home before your father found out that one of your heels slipped out of your grip and landed on the staircase. Javi reached down and picked it up, watching as you disappeared into the night, hoping he'd find you again soon.

credits

ꨄ beta'd: @joelmillerisapunk @80ssong @peepawispunk @half-moon16 💗

[ssentimentals]

Hey, I love your work so much 🫶🏻

Idk if anyone has requested this before, but if they didn't, I was wondering if you could write Mingyu with Suggestive prompt 21? Maybe with a plus sized!reader if that's okay 🥹🖤

But if you don't feel comfortable writing for plus sized!reader it's fine, I'd read anything with Mingyu and this prompt honestly 😔✊🏻🖤

baby, i am very comfortable writing for plus sized!reader, thank you very much for requesting it and being so sweet about it! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'you could be wearing a trash bag and i'd still want you.'

shopping is a fun thing to do, but you have to be in a certain mood for it to go well. most of the times it's such a hassle to figure out correct size and good fit with casual clothes, but when it comes to something fancier this hassle turns into a full-blown struggle. you cringe at your reflection in the mirror - the size of the dress is correct, but the fit is just wrong. the fabric clings to your figure in all of the wrong places, shows off what you'd like to hide and makes you appear way bigger than you actually are. which is a pity, because this dress is so pretty and color looks amazing on you, but the way your love handles and tummy gets accentuated here is not flattering at all. it almost makes you want to cry, to be honest - you love your body and you want to look beautiful, how can finding a nice dress be this hard? it's an important event for mingyu and he already chose a suit for it that looks dashing on him; as his plus one you can't look anything less than perfect.

'how it's going, babe?' mingyu calls out loud enough for you to hear from the changing rooms. 'can i come in?'

'no!' you rush out, quickly composing yourself.

you hear sound of footsteps coming closer and suddenly mingyu is right here behind the curtain: 'but i wanna see,' he whines cutely. 'i wanna see how that dress looks on you. i bet it's so pretty.'

you shake your head, upset. 'it is not, gyu.'

'no?' he questions, surprised. 'but i thought it'd be perfect on you. is it on you now? can i look?' his hand tugs at the curtain insistently.

you know mingyu is not going to back out, so you sigh and move the curtain, letting him see what you see in that awful reflection. for few moments mingyu is silent but then his hands are on your hips and he plasters his front to your back: 'babe. shit. looking so good.'

you blink at these words, meeting his gaze in the mirror. one of you definitely has a bad eyesight, because mingyu looks at you like you are a goddess and you want to never see yourself in this dress again. 'it's awful,' you says, looking at him confused. 'look at the rolls. and at my tummy. my god.'

mingyu frowns, his hands skim from your hips to your tummy and then go lower to brush your thighs in a very not-pg way. 'i see curves and i see beauty. what do you see?'

you can tell that is not lying but still - 'it's not that sexy, gyu.'

mingyu chuckles, leaning in to press few kisses on your hair. 'you could be wearing a trash bag and i'd still want you, babe. you're always sexy to me. if you don't like this dress then fine, no worries, we can look for something else. but you are sexy. very much so.'

you melt, letting him pepper your face with kisses. someone clears their throat and you push mingyu away, giggling at his dramatic pout and how he tries to hold on to your hips. 'more kisses when you're out?' he asks, puppy eyes on full display.

'more kisses when i'm out,' you promise, smiling.

shopping can be such a hassle and unnecessary struggle, but at least you got mingyu with you.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[sapphicselkie]

today is my birthday and tommyinnit has dropped a depressing banger

and i decided to transcribe the very quick, hard to read text boxes that occur between 2:50 - 3:13

#1: If you find a corner of this world wide web that has any substance at all, then please stick to it. The hundreds of millions of people that now place absolutely no value on their time, their precious time, and spend it watching soulless content designed to hold their attention is depressing. This all depressed me. There is so little substance in this mess of a world wide web. So little heart or soul or love. If you find any substance, stick to it.

#2: [something about being angry -- the text is too hard to make out]

#3: A Tribute To Minecraft, The Great Potato War, TheOriginalAce's Q&A's, Ludwig's 2020 streams, SMPLive Talent Show. This was everything to me.

#4: Status is irrational and nature is cyclical. It's attention porn. Don't get addicted to it. It's nothing. It means nothing. They are more insecure than you. But what the fuck do I know.

#5: When I was a boy, alone, this meant everything to me. I found my people. My place. All along the way I was a part of something that really meant something. This is the only good bit of this. Whatever I did that meant something, that is the only good bit.

#6: I can't watch back my old videos because everyone in them wasn't who they said they were. Do you know how bad this makes me feel. Do you know how sad I have felt all year.

#7: How could anyone possibly find out who they are when you are all immersed in this needless, self-indulgent spiral of instant gratification and distraction. This is not good for you.

#8: [upside down text] the poor 12 year old watching this sad ass video when he subscribed for funny minecraft videos. poor guy lmao I don't think I trust anyone here I don't think anyone trusts anyone here.

#9: yeah i know it's too much like bo burnham. It won't be in a year though. In a year it will be like Tom Simons. Just let me figure out what that means, ok?

#10: I used to feel like I was just doing everything wrong. That I just wasn't smart or good like any of my friends. I realise now I was the only one doing the right thing. I just wanted to have fun. What I'd do to get that back, my god. What I'd do. To have things be simple again.

#11: I just don't want to slip back into who I was. A year ago I needed you. A year ago most of my self esteem and worth and love came from you. A year ago I wasn't happy unless you were. I don't think I can ever do that again. That really was wrong. How did I possibly end up there?

[nemainofthewater]

Halfway through, and it's a close race with Mei Changsu in first with 19.7%, then Zhou Zishu with 19.2%, and finally Pei Huai in third with 18%.

Tag propaganda under the cut:

Pei Huai

#see i don't think mcs is like going out of his way to eat poison#poison just happens to him more often than anyone around him would like#pei huai on the other hand has means motive and opportunity by @sinni-ok-sessi

#I also immediately went for Pei Huai#he literally does this and doesn’t even have bullshit poison immunity he’s just Like That by @jianghushenighans

#polls#i chose pei hua but let's be real#it's pei hua and tang fan staring each other down and competitively doing poison shots#while a bored dong'er reads one of tang fan's wips with the bottle of antidote in one hand by @foxofninetales

#nearly voted li lianhua until i saw pei huai there#pei huai is an absolute terror in the vicinity of poison#tang fan: what have you got there? pei huai: A POISON! tang fan: NO!!!#pei huai is the spiders georg of the poison world#average person yadda yadda poison huai who lives in a cave adn drinks 10000 a day…#(ps i’m love him ❤️) by @unfortunatelycake

#polls#pei huai#my beloved mad scientist#he does it on purpose for science no duress required#but hed probably do it in exchange for a new world veggie too#he’s just Like That by @auroramagpie

#poll#the sleuth of ming dynasty#please it's (with caveats) so good#pei huai#ok i also adore ying hecong but he won't think twice about asking you to poison yourself whereas lao pei will make you talk him into it by @a-sea-with-no-shores

#i absolutely agree with everyone saying pei huai#didn't he eat a tomato or something bc he was told it was poisonous and was disappointed it wasn’t? or am i remembering that wrong by @marquisguyun

Mei Changsu

#I am forced to disagree with my esteemed colleague#on the basis that 'medicine that will give me a month of full function in return for burning out my remaining lifespan' is.#reasonably classifiable as poison. by @morkaischosen

#nirvana in fire#i mean.... he DID do that#more than once even by @acesgroupchat

#you know who I voted for#(mcs)#but maomao would get the vote has she been included#antri by @xiaojingyan-jingwang

Song Qingshi

#soooooo many strong contenders here#but i have to go with song 'i am disfiguring myself with poison on the regular' qingshi#boy is so full of poisons. he's not normal about it. he thinks he's normal about it but he's not by @noswordinourlake

Wu Xie

#there are so many poison-eaters...#but I'm choosing Wu Xie#because he gets surgery so he can inject snake venom directly into his nasal organs#no one wants him to do this#it makes them sad by @vergoftowels

Ying Hecong

#oh my god this is the hardest poll yet#the number of these who have literally eaten poison on purpose in canon....#I think I'm definitely forgetting details about pei huai based on the tags... anyway makes sense that he's winning#I picked ying hecong because I figured other people wouldn't be choosing him but he's a little freak and deserves some recognition#but truly. it's SO hard to choose here. they're all winning the 'idiot who would eat poison' award to me by @silver-grasp

Li Lianhua

#lmao#i voted li lianhua#it doesn't need an explanation#he literally ate something he was allergic to that he considered poison#because it wouldn't affect him bc of the bicha poison#but tbf most of the characters i know on this poll would#zzs definitely would#mcs would if it furthered a plot of his#i know three others by name only so i can't judge by @fire-burning-brighter

#llh literally ingests poision and knockout drugs constantly#they dont effect him but its amazing how many people you can convince when you can just hit poisions whenever#feel like he ingests at least one (at least semi-) toxic substance every plot arc by @fealiniel

Other

#my mind immediately went to Apothecary Diaries#maomao#jinshi#the apothecary diaries#but applies to MCS too i guess 😂 by @indelibleme

#I feel every single one of these is i_cant_read.png at the sight of a warning label#if they're in the mood#see also:#yu she and zhong wan from 'those years in quest of honor mine'#yu she in particular has never seen a toxic item that he didn't immediately stuff in his mouth while maintaining deliberate eye contact by @woolasaur

#i think it's gotta be wei wuxian#especially emphasizing the part where he does it for Science#and then spits it out by @dripping-moonlight

AITA for preventing my friend from eating POISON?

They claim that it's for science/to mess with people/it just looks so tempting!/don't ever give me an explanation, but I don't think it's wrong to ask them not to literally poison themself? However, they've told me that it's 'enrichment' and I'm a 'spoilsport'. So AITA for stopping them?

Write-ins, propaganda, and images are welcome!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

They talked about this before it started, that if it got to be much for anything, they would talk about it. Steve would understand. He always did, especially since he was afraid himself. Eddie's panic attacks were happening more frequently, and what happened over spring break was still fresh in everyone's minds. It was difficult for Eddie to breathe, and Steve knew it was coming, and Eddie did too. They could feel it when they touched, kissed, and fucked. They were already mourning a relationship that was never supposed to be serious in the first place. The next morning, Eddie told him that his band wanted to go on the road.

"I figured," Steve said, picking at his blanket.

"You're not mad?" Eddie asked.

"Of course not," Steve said. "This town is killing you, Eddie, I couldn't ask you to stay."

"You could ask," Eddie shrugged.

"You wouldn't say yes, and I wouldn't want you to resent me for staying," Steve said.

"You could come with me," Eddie said.

"You know that I can't leave the kids until they graduate," Steve said.

"And I can?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," Steve said. "You want to go. Do you want to go?"

"I do," Eddie said, swallowing thickly.

"I don't want to hold you back," Steve replied.

"You could never," Eddie said and paused. "I suppose you really can't have it all. You're right, I suppose I can't stay. I know I should have said. . .but I guess you could already tell. This town is killing me and not even you - which is crazy because you're Steve fucking Harrington. You're the most beautiful man alive. Inside and out."

Steve pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring everything he had into it. He could taste salty tears on his tongue. He couldn't tell who was crying more. Steve pulled back with a gasp.

"Eddie, I - " Steve closed his mouth and said nothing.

The next day, they said another goodbye, this time in front of everyone. It wasn't nearly as intimate. No one knew they were fucking. They had still been figuring things out about themselves, and Eddie hadn't been quite ready to label himself or tell anyone. Steve couldn't even tell Robin. The day after Eddie left, Steve took off to another bar outside of Hawkins. He couldn't go to the Hideout, too many memories, and he couldn't explain to people why he was drowning his sorrows. Steve was having a lot more difficult time than he had thought he would, and he respected Eddie's choice but it was killing him that he was gone, that there was an empty spot in his bed. He couldn't even tell Robin why he was so heartbroken. The best thing about this bar was that it was attached to a motel, so he was planning on getting drunk and finding his way to the room he rented. Of course, that's where he met Tiffany, who was just as heartbroken as he was. . .

"Steve, Steeeeve," Robin sang.

"Ugh, Robin, go away, my head is killing me," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's probably because you drank half the motel bar," Robin said.

"How are you here?" He asked, burying his head deeper into the pillow.

"You gave the girl you slept with my phone number, and you told her to let me know if you accidentally died," Robin said.

"I'm not dead," Steve groaned.

"No, but you look it," Robin scoffed. "You're going to need to check out soon."

"Where's - " Steve asked, looking up. "Tiffany?"

"Yeah. She left," Robin said.

"That's probably good for her," Steve said. "Ooh. I'm going to puke. Yeah, no, wait - yeah, I'm going puke."

He slipped out of the bed, butt naked, and ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

"Jesus, what the hell? I thought you were done with one night stands?" Robin asked.

"I just - yeah, I mean, I was but then - FUCK!" Steve yelled and then he burst into tears.

Robin frowned and grabbed a sheet of the bed, tossing it over him. She cleaned his mouth, sat on the floor, and pulled his head into her lap.

"Steve?" Robin asked. "I know you and Eddie have gotten close, but I didn't think you'd be this upset that he left. Jesus, how are you going to handle me going off to college? Shit, I put my foot in my mouth again, didn't I? Was that a little insensitive? Steve?"

"I'm in love with him," Steve sobbed, and then everything came pouring out. "I'm sorry and shit, I think I need to apologize to Eddie because I shouldn't have told you."

"Hey, hey, slow down. I think he'd understand," Robin said softly. "There's a lot to process here. I'm sorry, babe, I should have known."

"It's not your fault," Steve said. "I'm just so stupid."

"It's not your fault either," Robin said. "It was just a sticky situation for the both of you. And if you ever call my best friend stupid again, I'm going to beat you up. Only I'm allowed to call you a dingus, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said and laughed.

"Come on, let's get you home. . .dingus," Robin said.

Steve smiled. She always said dingus like she was saying I love you. God, she was his best friend.

"Dingus," Steve said, and Robin laughed.

"You're so drunk," she giggled. "Come on, Popeye."

It was a difficult time for Steve over the next few months, even more difficult than when he got over Nancy Wheeler. Maybe because he had allowed himself to be more vulnerable than he ever had with Nancy, and maybe in doing so, he had fallen harder for Eddie. With Robin's help, he was able to move forward. It helped that he had sold and moved out of his parents' place. They didn't think he could sell the place, but he proved them wrong. And with the money, he was able to tuck a lot of it away and move into a comfortable two bedroom apartment, an apartment that he was allowed to decorate however he wanted. After nearly a year, he was in a good place when things decided to turn upside down again for Steve. We'll, roughly 9 months later, to be a little more precise. . .

"Oh my god! I can't believe you forgot to buy me my favorite chips! After I came all this way to visit you!" Robin yelled.

"If you would move stuff around, you'll find them!" Steve exclaimed as he set up the movie.

"Oh, there they are! I knew you still loved me," Robin said.

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin came into the living room, her arms laden with snacks. She unceremoniously dumped them on the table.

"I'm glad you were able to pull yourself away from Vickie long enough to visit me before heading back to Chicago," Steve said.

"I can prioritize between the romantic love of my life and the platonic love of my life," Robin said.

Steve and Robin snuggled into each other, their matching pajamas firmly in place, as they settled in for the evening. Just as they were about to start the movie, Steve got the phone call. Robin watched as Steve could only give one words answers before finally putting the phone back down, his face pale.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"We're going to have to cut the evening short," Steve said.

"What? But we've been planning this evening for weeks - "

"Robin, I'm a dad."

They drove to Indianapolis, where Tiffany had given birth, and now they were standing in the nursery, staring at the swaddled baby right in front of them. Tiffany had already left the hospital by the time they arrived.

"She's so tiny," Steve said breathlessly.

"And pink," Robin said. "She doesn't have a name yet. Do you have any ideas?"

"I - I don't know," Steve said.

"Do you want to keep her?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know it's crazy, but I want her," Steve said as he took her hand in his, letting her tiny hand wrap around his finger. "More than anything."

"You think of a name while I take your credit card and go get some supplies for your little chicken nugget," Robin said, squeezing his shoulder. "You're going to be a great dad."

Robin pressed a kiss to his hair, cooed at the baby, and then quickly left them alone. Steve watched his daughter wiggle in her blanket and listened to the noises she made, her little tongue darting out every so often. He watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. It must be so confusing to come into this world, not knowing who you are, where you are, and taken from the only place you've ever known. Steve placed a hand on her chest.

"It's okay, I'm here," Steve whispered, and he smiled when she calmed down a bit.

"You can pick her up, you know," the nurse said.

Steve almost jumped. He forgot he wasn't alone in the room. A friendly faced hispanic nurse was there, chuckling at him.

"I know, I just don't want to - she's so small," Steve said.

"Every good parent is afraid of dropping them," the nurse said. "Come sit over here."

Steve sat down in the rocking chair and watched as she picked up his daughter. He glanced at her name tag. Sofia. She placed the baby carefully into his waiting arms. He gasped in delight, the feeling of holding her overwhelming him in a very good way. Was he crying?

"Thanks, Nurse Sofia," Steve said.

"She looks good in your arms," Sofia said.

"She feels good. Feels right," he muttered. "She's so wonderful. Hey, there. I'm your dad. I know, it's crazy. Don't feel intimated by my hair. You're bald now, kiddo, but it'll grow. . .and even if it doesn't, I'll still love you. . .oh, I'm suddenly terrified. I am going to mess her up."

"Hush, you're going to be fine," Sofia said.

Steve watched as the baby's head started to move around, as though she was looking for something and she started to whimper.

"I think she's hungry," Steve said.

"See? Your instincts are already kicking in," Sofia said.

Steve smiled. Sofia reminded him of both Claudia and Sue. Oh, speaking of them. . .they're going to freak when they find out Steve made them grandmothers. Sophia left to go the formula and came back with it pretty quickly. She showed him how to hold it so the baby wouldn't choke.

"Thank you," Steve said. "I really appreciate it. . .oh, she's really going to town. Yeah, she was hungry."

"She goes after it like my four boys did," Sofia said.

"You have four boys?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, they're a handful, but I love them. Supposedly, girls are easier, but I think that's bullshit," Sofia scoffed.

"Oh, girls are just as much of a handful. I babysit a group of teenagers," Steve said.

"Then you have some practice under your belt," Sofia said. "I always thought that if I had a girl, I'd name her Elizabeth. Never happened, but I'm happy with my boys, more than enough for me."

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered.

"Does that name mean something to you?" She asked. "It sounds like it."

It was Eddie's mother's name. He remembered him talking about her all the time, how she died when he was six, and how he got his love of his music from her. Eddie always wished he could have had more time with her.

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered to his daughter, and he smiled.

"Elizabeth Robin?"

"Of course, I named her after you," Steve scoffed.

"Oh my sweet little baby bird," Robin cooed. "I can't believe I have to go back to school soon. . .as her godmother, shouldn't I get like godmaternity leave?"

"Yeah, I don't think they do that," Steve said.

"Well, they should," Robin said.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Steve said.

"If you love your child, you would," Robin said. "By the way, Tiffany left you a letter at the front desk. They gave it to me."

Together, they got Elizabeth into the car seat and then into the car with Robin in the driver's seat, bringing her home. . .

Dear Steve,

I hope that night meant a lot to you as it did to me. I wanted to face you and tell you so many times, but I'm kind of a coward. I think we were both very heartbroken that night, and I hope you found the same comfort in me that I did in you. It gave the courage that I needed to face who I truly am.

I feel like something greater than ourselves brought us together that night. I was just a mere vessel. . .I know you wanted to be with someone else. You called out their name, and you said it like a declaration of love. I wasn't meant to be a mother, not yet. This isn't my baby. I hope that everything works out and that you feel it as much as I do. I was glad to help you and be a part of this journey. Don't wait too long to be honest with yourself.

Sincerely, Tiffany

"A mere vessel? What the hell does that mean?" Steve asked.

"Fuck if I know."

A YEAR AND THREE MONTHS LATER. . .

Eddie scowled, his ear pressed to the phone, as Dustin went on about Steve’s new special girl in his life. How many times did Eddie have to say that he didn't want to hear about it? He swore that Dustin's ears were only there for decoration.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great that this Liddie person likes Robin more than you, but I need to tell you something, and you can't say anything to Steve," Eddie said. "You can't say anything to anyone."

"Ooh, a secret, lay it on me, and by the way, her name is - " Dustin started to say.

"Okay, whatever. I don't care. I'm surprising Steve and coming home for his birthday," Eddie said.

"Oh, shit! He'll love that. He's missed you like crazy. We all have," Dustin said. "If you get in late, make sure it's before 7 because that's when he puts her to bed."

"He gives her a bedtime?" Eddie asked.

"Of course, he does! It would be completely irresponsible to let her go to bed whenever she wanted to. She needs a schedule, Eddie," Dustin said.

"That sounds a little controlling, but okay," Eddie said.

"Well, what time would you give her?" He asked.

"I wouldn't give her a bedtime at all!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie! You can't do that!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Look, just don't ruin the surprise, okay?" Eddie asked before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.

Yeah, he was definitely going to win Steve back because, honestly, this new relationship of his sounded a bit messy, and Steve deserved better than that. How much trouble could this girl be that she needed a bedtime? She has to be the one that's trouble. . .right? Steve Harrington couldn't have lost his way. There's no way he would have turned to the dark side after he left. Either way, Eddie needed to intervene.

"Okay, okay, you can do this," Eddie breathed.

He looked at the address written on the piece of paper and checked it again. He was in the right place. He didn't waste any time after visiting with Wayne. Steve’s apartment was his second place to visit. Eddie took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Steve yelled, and then he heard muffled laughter from Steve. "Lizzie! Stop barking! You're not a dog! I'm going to have to talk to Robin about teaching you that."

Steve opened the door, and he nearly stumbled back at the sight of Eddie. Steve was wearing sweats and an old t-shirt of Eddie's. . .to Eddie's delight. His hair was longer, and he had quite a bit more scruff to him. Eddie was also pleased to see that he was wearing his glasses.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Eddie," Steve breathed.

They've talked on the phone and written each other letters but it was definitely better seeing each other in person.

"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday," Eddie said. "Surprise!"

"My birthday isn't until next week," Steve said in amusement.

"So, I came early," Eddie said, and then he smirked. "It's not like I haven't done that before. . .but then, you know that."

"Eddie," Steve scolded, but he was smiling and blushing. "Come on in."

"Don't mind if I do," Eddie said, stepping over the threshold. "So, where's this girl of yours? . . . Liddie? I want to meet her."

"She's in the living room, and her name is Lizzie," Steve corrected, laughing. "Come on."

Eddie followed behind Steve, enjoying the view as he did so. When he walked into the living room, all he saw was a playpen with a little girl inside. Was Steve in the middle of babysitting?

"I don't see her," Eddie frowned.

"Lizzie's right there, Eddie," Steve laughed, pointing at the crib.

"Oh my god! Steve!" Eddie yelled, appalled.

"Uh?" Lizzie asked, looking up from chewing on her teddy bear.

"Yeah, I know, I have a daughter," Steve said. "Surprise! Although, I thought you knew."

"A daughter! Oh, oh, thank god!" Eddie said, clutching his chest.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Uh, never mind what I was thinking," Eddie said, blushing. "So, a daughter, huh? How old?"

"A year and three months," Steve said proudly.

"Oh, wow," Eddie said with a grin.

"Yeah. Time flies, and it seems like only it was only yesterday that I was in the hospital with her. . .holding her for the first time," Steve said.

A year and three months. Eddie looked at the kid. She was cute with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Apart from that, she looked almost exactly like Steve. Eddie chuckled. It almost looked like they had a baby together. A year and three months. A year and three months?! Eddie did the math in his head. They had sex right before Eddie left, which meant that Lizzie would have had to have been concieved sometime around there. Lizzie. . .Elizabeth. . .oh, after his mom?

"Oh my god," Eddie whispered softly and grabbed his arms. "Steve. . .Steve, is she mine?"

"Eddie," Steve said slowly. "I want you to really think about what you just said."

"I am thinking about it! I'm thinking about you going through all that alone!" Eddie exclaimed. "You had to deliver her without me there to hold your hand!"

"Eddie, I didn't - "

"I'm such an idiot! I never should have left, I mean, I could have toughed it out a few more years!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie, I swear - "

"Oh, my god, and even though I wasn't there for you, you still named our daughter after my mother," Eddie rambled.

"If you would just stop for a minute and listen - "

"Steve!" Eddie said, grabbing his arms. "Was it the bat bites? Because I slept with a guy like a month ago, and it was only because he was wearing a polo like you! I also slept with a girl. . .she had hair like yours! Can girls also get me pregnant?! Do I have to take a pregnancy test?. . .Lizzie, sweetheart, I think you're going to be a big sister!"

"Arf! Arf!" Lizzie barked.

Eddie bent over, putting his head between his legs as his mind spun around in circles. He felt Steve grab him and drag him into the kitchen. Steve yanked off his vest and jacket, tossing them onto the counter. He turned on the faucet, grabbed Eddie's head, and shoved it under the water. Eddie shrieked.

"Okay! Okay!"

Steve turned off the water and let him up. Eddie scowled as he rung out his hair.

"Are you done?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, thanks, I needed that," Eddie said.

"Lizzie is not your daughter," Steve said.

"She's not?" Eddie asked, with wide eyes.

"Okay, with you looking at me like that, I kinda regret saying that," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left," Eddie said. "I think I just regret doing that."

"Eddie, this town was suffocating you," Steve said. "You needed to leave."

"Did I, though?" Eddie asked. "Wayne managed to tough it out here."

"You need to stop beating yourself up for reacting to a bad situation that was out of your control," Steve said.

"I regretted the minute I left, but I was already out there on the road with the boys," Eddie said. "I loved it, but I think I might have left my heart behind here."

"You want to stay?" Steve asked.

"If you'll take me back," Eddie said.

"It's hard to say no when you're looking all sad and wet like that," Steve said.

"I want to stay anyway, even if you don't want to take me back," Eddie said.

"I have missed you every single minute of every single day," Steve said. "I haven't stopped loving you or hoping we'll find our way back to each other."

"I love you," Eddie whispered.

"I love you, too," Steve said.

Eddie grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. He felt Steve smiling into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. He pressed Steve up against the counter, melting into him like butter. He broke the kiss, crossing to press thousands of tiny kisses all over Steve’s face. Steve giggled and pushed him back.

"Will Lizzie's mother have a problem with this?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, she's not in the picture. Hold on," Steve said.

He left and came back to Eddie, putting his hair into a towel. He handed Eddie a letter.

"What's this?" Eddie asked, sitting on a stool.

"The day after you left, I went to a hotel bar, drank it, and met a woman who was just as heartbroken as I was," Steve said. "We slept together and nine months later, Lizzie was born."

"A mere vessel," Eddie cackled after reading it. "I like her. She sounds like me."

"She also looks like you," Steve blushed.

"Okay, so we went the long way around, but we got here," Eddie laughed. "She is my daughter."

"What?" Steve asked.

"In every other way except biologically, Elizabeth is mine. I mean, you even named her after my mother," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I did do that," he blushed.

Eddie pulled Steve in between his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist. He studied his face, drinking in every inch of skin, every mole. . .God, he loved this man.

"Steve Harrington, if you want me to, I want to be your baby daddy," Eddie sighed.

"I do," Steve smiled.

Eddie flashed his dimples and smacked Steve’s ass.

"Well, introduce me to our daughter, big boy," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and pulled him up off the stool. Holding his hand, he pulled him down the hall. Eddie stopped him before pulling the towel off his head and fixing his hair. He straightened his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips.

"I want to look good," Eddie said, and then he gasped. "Steve, what if she doesn't like me?"

"Eddie, she barks like a dog. She's going to love you," Steve said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, and Steve just shook his head.

Eddie followed Steve into the living room, where Lizzie had moved onto a cloth book. Her little tongue was out as her little finger traced the words as though she was trying to teach herself how to read. Eddie smiled. She glanced up and smiled at Eddie then at Steve.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked and held her hands up towards Steve.

Steve pulled her out of the playpen and put her on his hip. Holy fuck, Eddie thought, he looks totally hot.

"Lizzie, this is Eddie. He's going to be your other Dada," Steve said.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"You get two!" Steve exclaimed, pointing to himself and then to Eddie.

"Two Dadas!" Lizzie clapped.

"Wow, she caught on quick," Eddie said.

"Yeah, she's smart. I'm still not sure how much she understands," Steve said.

Lizzie leaned over Steve’s arms and reached towards Eddie. He grinned and took Lizzie into his arms.

"Hi," Eddie whispered.

"Hi," Lizzie said.

"Hi."

"Hi," Lizzie said, and then she giggled.

She reached over and started licking Eddie's cheek. Eddie cackled.

"Yeah, we definitely should talk to Robin about this. She can't go around licking people," Eddie giggled.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!" Lizzie shrieked as she bounced on his hip.

"Ooh! I wonder - ," Eddie gasped.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve asked.

Eddie set Lizzie on the floor and sprawled out in front of her.

"Okay, can you raise your little fingers like this?" Eddie said as he raised his pointer fingers to his head to make horns.

Lizzie blinked at him. She reached over and grabbed Eddie's hair.

"Ah!" Lizzie screamed.

"No, baby, no!" Eddie said while Steve laughed.

Eddie eventually guided her gently and got her to make little horns while sticking out her tongue. It wasn't perfect, but she managed it with Eddie's help. Luckily, it took Eddie long enough for Steve to get a camera.

"Good job, daddy," Steve said.

He leaned down and kissed Eddie. Lizzie shrieked and pushed Steve off Eddie. She scrunched up her face at them before hugging Eddie.

"No, Daddy, don't do that," Eddie laughed. "That's gross. . .Thanks for saving me, baby."

"I ordered dinner. . .Are you gonna stay the night?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to stay forever," Eddie said as he hugged Lizzie to him.

After dinner, Eddie happily helped Steve give Lizzie a bath before throwing a colander over a flashlight in Lizzie's room to make stars. He laid down on the floor with Lizzie curled up between him and Steve, her eyes getting heavy.

". . .so I opened my eyes and wondered if I was floating. I realized a moment later that a beautiful man was carrying me out of hell. He was begging me to stay with him, and I did want to stay with him, but I didn't know why. He spent the next few weeks taking care of me, and I spent the same amount of time trying to fight the fact that I was falling for him, a man. It wasn't until the town had run me out that I realized I was in love with him. When I came back, I realized I never wanted to leave him again. . . That man, of course, was your daddy. So, the next time I go on the road, it's going to be with you and your daddy in an RV. Your daddy is going to be playing obnoxious music, so I apologize in advance."

"Hey, your music is not obnoxious," Steve said.

"I was talking about yours," Eddie grinned.

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed, slapping his chest.

"Shh! Steve, our daughter is asleep. . .what is that sound?!"

"Yeah, she snores," Steve said.

"My god, that's the loudest sound I have heard from someone so tiny."

"Hey, Eddie," Steve whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We're a family," Steve said and Eddie leaned over Lizzie's head to kiss him.

" . . . And they all lived happily ever after. . ."

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt 2. Of my one shot (will be posted as one big post on ao3)

Thank you for all the support! It's getting me through a tough time I'm going through rn in my travels. I had a short oneshot in mind like 1000 words but I think I'm gonna fluff it out.

-----

So it keeps...happening.

Eddie gets up, walks to the door, Steve's on the other side.

He pushes past Eddie and heads to his room.

Falls fast asleep.

He hasn't even been drunk the past two times.

This time is a little different.

Eddie's been sleeping next to him of course. How could he pass up the opportunity for something he's been dreaming about for years months weeks.

He can tell Steve's faking being asleep. He's breathing lighter, not the chainsaw snoring Eddie's grown used to. He's spread out like a starfish and Eddie is stiff on the edge of the bed. His face turned towards Steve, he can't resist staring at him.

Steve's eyelids flutter and Eddie's mind races with possibilities. Is he dreaming? Still awake? What's going on?

"Will you shut up and get over here," Steve mutters.

Is he talking in his sleep?

"Eddie." He opens one eye. "Get over here."

What the fuck.

He doesn't even have a second to panic before Steve reaches over and grabs him, successfully rolling him over into his arms.

"Finally." He nestles his face into Eddie's hair. "Give me a copy of your key I'm tired of waiting for you."

Eddie chokes.

"Steve." He strains. "What're you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? Sleeping."

----

Steve's a sweaty sleeper.

Eddie only knows because he wakes with his face in his BARE chest.

Yes he's been sleeping better since this started but at some point Steve's gonna have to give him an actual explanation.

How does he get out of this one? It's his trailer he can't exactly walk of shame it.

Steve's starting to wake up. He sniffles a bit and squeezes Eddie before letting go.

"Mornin." He rolls Eddie off and gets up.

"I'm going to work. Give me the key later."

....ok?!?!?! Eddie's sure he looks completely flabbergasted.

"Bye."

Eddie's watches him as he walks out.

Well...he's just gonna follow him. He needs answers. It's not like he hasn't been trying!

-----

"Ok!" He screams as he throws open the doors to family video. "I want answers!"

Robin looks at him in shock while Steve looks bored.

"What's this about?" Robin asks.

"Probably about us sleeping together." Steve says, bored.

"I'm...sorry...what's this?" Robin looks shocked.

"You know, that I've been sleeping with Eddie."

Robin whips to look at Eddie who doesn't look much better. They both are speechless, eyes wide, mouths open.

"No I do not know!"

"I'm restocking!" Steve yells as he walks past them into the back.

As soon as he's gone Robin stomps over to Eddie and punches him in the arm.

"OW!"

"What the hell doofus! You're sleeping with him? Why wouldn't you guys tell me! When was Steve even gay? I mean I know that- nevermind that's not important. You're dating!?!"

"No! I don't know!"

"How do you not know?!"

"We're not sleeping together! We're literally just sleeping in the same bed. We're...sleeping...together?"

Robin squints at him.

"You." She pushes a finger into his chest. "You better figure this out."

"Talk. To. Him." She jabs her finger into his chest between words.

----

Comment your thoughts! Comment your feelings! Comment!

I know it seems basic but I kinda had the thought of "what is Steve just took over the trailer because he needed to sleep without nightmares and then just never left"

More of this and my other oneshots coming soon!

I'll also be working on uploading everything I've ever written to my ao3 which is pinned on my profile

[sad-girl-hours23]

Thinking about Buck,

Still not over Tommy, deeply unsatisfied being under anyone else (he's tried and lost count how many times). His best friend has moved away; he's happy Eddie's working things out with Chris, but he misses them both terribly.

Amongst every one else, he feels...not so much a divide, but maybe less enmeshed than they used to be.

Nothing's wrong with his job, but well, it's starting to feel a lot less like his whole life and purpose and more like just that: a job. He's stagnant. Stuck.

He feels an itch under his skin that he can't scratch in any of his usual ways.

He's over pouring out his love into a Kitchen aid mixer. He's done trying to bury his need for connection into hook-ups.

Realizes maybe he's not as settled as he thought he was. Maybe he's still searching; but for what, he doesn't know. Himself. His purpose. Love.

Realizes he misses not being stuck in one place.

So he takes a vacation. Spends two weeks in Japan. Tells himself he won't create a full itinerary for his time there (he spends most of his flight doing so anyway, but he compromises with himself and leaves his second week open).

He reads about the Wind Phone. How people travel from all over to talk to their late loved ones through a rotary phone.

He doesn't go his first week there, but the thought of it is never far from his mind. (He's held hands with Death, he isn't sure what he's so afraid of).

He gets to the garden of Bell Gardia.

He thinks about Red Delacroix, who warned him against making firefighting his whole life. “You can be the hero and save lives, but don’t neglect having your own. Last thing you want is to be at the end holding nothing but regrets.” So he talks to Red; tells him he hasn't quite figured it out, is scared he never will.

He comes back the next day, Thomas on his mind. Buck tells him how he found his scrapbook the other day (he had forgotten that he'd even taken it). He tells him about Tommy, the love he thought he finally found (then lost). He smiles. "I know, I know. You don't find it, you make it." He can't help the crack in his voice "I really thought we were."

Buck wonders what it says about him that he's spending his vacation talking to dead. Knows he's not done yet

He comes back the next day, and the day after that, and the one after that. He talks to Daniel each time. He isn't quite sure how to picture him; the age he was in the last photos taken of him, the age when he died, the older Daniel that his coma dream imagined up? He talks to them all.

He gives him the abridged version of his life. Wonders if he should leave out the parts he knows would break his brother's heart, leaves them in anyway. It's cathartic; to confess of the survivor's guilt he's carried since learning of Daniel, how it all came flooding back when woke up from his coma, how it felt like he was letting him down again in the interest of his own survival.

He's certain he's out of tears, and he may not have a voice left by the end of his trip.

But he's got one more phone call to make. And he can't make it here, in this haunted phone booth. And he doesn't want to wait until it's too late.

He hasn't figured it all out. He doesn't know where him and Tommy went wrong. He knows they're both haunted by their own ghosts.

But Tommy's still here. And unlike Buck's ghosts on the other end of the phone, he can talk back.

So Buck does what he should have done months ago. He calls Tommy. He nearly sobs in relief when he hears a breath on the other end and a quiet, "Evan?"

[wren-galathinyus]

a little late to this game and I can't even give my full notes like the previous two times (I'm at work and can't do the second watch through I do to take note of my thoughts) but I would like to scream regardless, sp here are a few disjointed thoughts and feelings I'm screaming into the void!

as always, spoilers for arcane, the final act, under the cut

-LESBIAN SEX LETS GO WE FUCKINGGGG WOONNNNNNNNNNNNNN 🎉🎉🎉🎉🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

-but on a serious note for that thought, I'm so fucking happy that we got to have this. these two complex, beautiful, awful amazing women who are unapologetically queer and finally get their shit together to realise, the world isn't gonna wait for us, let's have sex, let's enjoy it. the fumble that vi makes with caits fancy belt, the delicate and healing way that cait holds and undresses vi, the full shot of vi's back tattoo, the fact that they can't keep their hands off each other and can't stop smiling! fuck! this was everything to me if you couldn't tell. also so much appreciation to the fact that this scene is an exact parallel to their first meeting!

-yes Mel get it with your sexy golden magic. I can't wait for the spin off series that will come from thus show cus I think it'll explore the black Rose and noxus war and I can't wait to see more of them!

-cait fighting desperate and dirty while still being so smart you have my heart (also cait with an eyepatch, fuccckkkkkkkkkk

-Maddie's betrayal lol, and the thanks for the warmth, bitch what warmth, cait was so mean to you even when you were sleeping together 😂

-the alternate reality???? oughh, oug oww, I need to lie down and cry for a whole week about that. everyone being alive except vi??? that shit hurted. also, domestic and therapised powder was everything I didn't know I needed and I'm so glad that when ekko figured out the anomaly that that timelines ekko came back to her. timebomb so cannon (also adore ekko for this entire act, every single second of it)

-jayvik mutual destruction is so them actually, and I'm glad they were together in the end. also sorcerer older vik had to be my favourite of his character designs. he looks so soft and at peace

-ambessas death is really not something I though we would see, or at least not in the way that it happened. but it's almost bitter-sweet that her death was nesacary for Mel to graduate to wolf in her eyes

-look, heimerdingers sacrifice was cute and heartfelt, but I really didn't have any attachment to the guy and was just glad that ekko made it home. very cute little song though

-Jinx is fucking dead and I hate it. yes it was in character, she did her one last good thing and just wanted to rest, but damn why did it have to be like that , but on the other hand, it leaves open the spot for powder to take hold of the narrative, because don't think I didn't see those hextech gems girl. she is everything to me and I really hope she's apart of whatever story comes next (I'm praying that powder gets to see vi all grown up, and that her older sister is okay, and that vi gets to see powder, the girl she might have been, and also that vi can see her brothers all grown up) (but that's all just wishful thinking)

-btw!! I always had faith in the writers. I love how this season came out on the full. it's absolutely amazing to me how they have managed to create on of if not the highest quality animated TV show ever. it was admittedly rushed, and I would have loved to see all these plot threads tugged at thoroughly before being tied up, but I still think what we got was a masterpiece

-jayce I did not like you in season one but I loved you in season two, and I held out hope that we would see why you did what you did, and it was so fucking perfect I would like to kick all of the jayce haters, just a little in the shins

-back to Jinx, it was genuinely so heartbreaking to see her catatonic over the loss of Isha and I hope they're together again now

-final form (herald) vik was pretty cool I like how it looked compared to his LoL design

-cait and Mel team up was something I didn't know I needed but damn it was good. the gays and girl kissers were eating well this weekend

-the animation of powder and ekko dancing? think I'll just go cry for another week for that alone, and their kiss!!??!? screaming crying

okay that's all I can think of for now. I may post more, I may not. I will absolutely be reposting like crazy though. agree or disagree with me, I want to hear your thoughts!

[bidoofenergy]

don't leave me hanging alone again

also on AO3

After the end of the session—after secrets are revealed and the rewards are reaped—everyone just hangs out. It's the no-man's-land of time, a few hours without fighting—and also without peace. You don't build new alliances or lay new traps. You use the time to breathe, to talk, to try to laugh. If you do it right, you won't hate your friends when you leave.

That's what you like to do at least. Jimmy likes to use this time to apologize. Back when you were soulmates—2 games and a Hermitcraft world ago—this was endearing to you.

Now, you wait for it.

You and Skizz catch up with Impulse, laughing about the game of tag, commiserating over your failures. Your conversation is light—it's Impulse and Skizz. You three have been friends for so long you can't be anything but. This is bearable. Manageable.

Several minutes into your conversation, Bdubs sidles up next to Impulse, fitting himself so perfectly into Impulse’s side it’s like the space had been left for him all along. The two of them aren't together this time around, but their history folds wrinkles into their every interaction.

For now, Bdubs is here to gloat.

Skizz watches them carefully, the way they bend towards each other without even meaning to. He's trying to understand them, trying to understand ex-soulmates—has been trying to understand for the last two games. Skizz missed just one of Grian's invitations and returned to a tangled web of feelings that have only gotten more and more knotted every time the games started back up again.

The longer this goes on, the more it’ll be clear to Skizz just how messed up you are over Jimmy—messed up in a way the others aren’t over their own ex-soulmates. Even if Skizz hasn’t already heard it directly from Impulse—and he definitely has, you know your friends—he’s figuring it out now. You can hear him and BigB whisper to each other, usually when you're on the other side of their island futzing with the stupid chicken machine.

How do you explain it to someone who wasn't there? How do you explain the way blood, injuries, every fraction of a heart lost all meant something bigger than yourself? That that was the game?

You didn't like being responsible for someone else's loss. You don't miss it. You don't want it back. But you would carve another 19 hearts out of your chest just to feel Jimmy's pain again.

How do you explain that to someone who wasn't there? You don't. You can't.

You won't try. You listen to Bdubs brag instead, laughing when Impulse gets under his skin— gentle. Oh so familiar with what makes him tick.

You won't try. You’ll let Skizz stay disbelieving, shooting you looks with one eyebrow raised, whispering with BigB when they think you're busy, listening to Impulse tell stories they think you don't know about.

You won't try. Bdubs is interrupted by Jimmy finally bounding over with a cheerful “Hello!”

“I heard you blew our boy up!” Impulse gestures at you—did Bdubs tell him? Do you even care?

Jimmy grins, canine sharp, and you both laugh like nothing hurts.

“We should take your name out of the drawing for that.” Skizz says and his easy-going smile is just a little too wide.

Jimmy turns to you and before his face can even fall, you say, “Don't worry about it.”

He smiles at you, not even relieved he was so certain in you. And it's just like before, standing right up against the thing that will hurt you, just because he's there smiling on the other side of it, just because you miss your heart beating with his. And isn't that exactly what will get you killed?