#but it does hurt to be sidelined like that i guess

[zoppzoop]

Ohh so this is how it feels to be the only one in your group of three not invited to a friends birthday party, who we all know and are kinda close to.... I forgot that feeling as well...... Hmm

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[thankskenpenders]

At long last, the trailer for Sonic movie 3 is here, giving us our first look at Shadow! It looks like a fun time, though my excitement is probably more tempered than a lot of peoples' due to a few things I have mixed feelings on. Here are my off-the-cuff thoughts about it.

Shadow

Yes, it does seem like they've really nailed Shadow here. Fowler's attachment to the character clearly shows. The action looks cool and really sells Shadow as a serious threat. He's got his bike, he's doing Chaos Control all over the place, it's great. Keanu is very much just doing his regular voice, but it fits well enough. The backstory from SA2 seems to mostly be there, though I'm sure some details will be adjusted. Mostly I'm still just amazed that we're getting a major tentpole blockbuster movie this Christmas starring Shadow the fucking Hedgehog that treats him as a serious character worthy of respect. We've come such a long way...

I mean, just... what an image to see on the big screen.

I also really like the way they're setting Shadow up as a foil for movie Sonic, kind of his dark mirror image as a Mobian hedgehog whose family life on Earth ended in tragedy and turned him into a vengeful antagonist. It's pretty straightforward, but it works well.

Robotnik(s)

Welp. They put Jim Carrey in a fat suit. I suppose we knew this day would come eventually.

I guess a small part of me is glad that movie Eggman finally actually looks like Eggman in every way that matter, but they're completely playing it as a joke at his expense here. And, yeah, the Sonic franchise isn't immune to fat jokes, the early years of the franchise (particularly Western adaptations) gave Sonic tons and tons and tons of jabs about Eggman's weight. But I thought we'd moved past that. But here we are with a depressed movie Robotnik binge eating and gaining a lot of weight like Fat Thor and the other characters think he's so GROSS and look his clothes don't even fit him anymore, haha! There's so much of this crammed into the trailer. I can only pray they don't do this in every fucking scene he's in in the movie.

I do like the plot of Sonic reluctantly teaming up with Robotnik to try and stop Shadow, though. It's very different from SA2, but we knew it would be, and I think that gives the movie some potential for Sonic to have kind of a dark turn of his own that mirror's Shadow's. I have a feeling that Sonic will try to get back at Shadow for something he does - maybe hurting Tom or something like that - and in the end Sonic sympathizes with Shadow and decides they have to stop their cycle of revenge, teaming up to stop some final threat.

Oh, and, of course... Jim Carrey is also playing Professor Gerald. Who might still be alive? Or maybe it's a hallucination on Ivo's part? I don't know, but either way, I'm here for it. Everyone joked about them doing it and then they went and did it. Yes, it risks playing him as a joke character, but the shot of him and Shadow mourning Maria while surrounded by GUN soldiers makes me believe he won't be a total joke. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the true final antagonist of the film, which would diverge a lot from the games but would work as its own version of the story.

And again, WHAT an image to see on the big screen lmao

Everyone else

The human cast is VERY downplayed in this trailer, but let's not forget that they're still going to get a lot of screentime one way or another. The Sonic 2 trailer barely showed anything from Hawaii. Where oh where is my best friend Wade?

Speaking of the Wade show, Knuckles... frankly still seems to be mostly a comic relief character heavily influenced by MCU Thor here, getting some jokes in the trailer but immediately getting Worfed by Shadow when it comes time to fight. Tails seems to be flying the gang around in a real-ass helicopter, and his big pilot's helmet is funny, but otherwise he doesn't really do anything here aside from getting stomped by Shadow. I really hope they don't get sidelined too hard, but frankly I fully expect them to, Tails especially.

And, of course... I can't help but think about who isn't here. Namely: the girls. Yes, three movies and one streaming miniseries into this film franchise, exactly zero of the female (animal) characters from the games have made the jump to live action. Please allow me to bitch about this.

Despite her being both 1) a main character in the game this movie is loosely adapting and 2) my fave, I suppose I can understand why Rouge isn't here. Paramount took one look at that bat cleavage and went "nope," cowards that they are. There was some speculation that Kristen Ritter could be playing Rouge, but we now know she's just playing someone at GUN. But, again, I at least get why they'd be hesitant to include her.

But Amy... Amy is such a glaring omission at this point. There's no excuse. She's the female lead of the franchise. She's one of Sonic's closest friends. (Honestly, these days it's more accurate to say Team Sonic is Sonic, Tails, and Amy, not Knuckles, especially in the comics.) And she's also a key player in Shadow's arc in the game. Shadow has his change of heart because Amy reminds him of Maria! And yet, she's nowhere to be seen. It sucks.

(I know some fans are still holding out hope for Amy, but the toys for the movie already leaked and she didn't get anything, so I have to assume she's not in it.)

It's not like I really expected either of them to be in this movie, but that doesn't make it less disappointing that they set up the film franchise in a way that makes it logistically difficult to include 90% of the characters and conveniently managed to leave all of the girls in the "low priority" pile. Yes, I know everyone points to how much Tails was downplayed in the third act of Sonic 2 as evidence that it's just so impossible to introduce more than one new Mobian character in each movie and give them the focus they deserve. Yes, I know having to come up with a story excuse to bring more characters over to Earth is an obstacle, especially when they're gonna have to devote time to Shadow's backstory. But these are excuses. It's a writer's job to figure out solutions to problems like this. They could make it work if they really wanted to. I'd take Amy having a suboptimal amount of screentime over her not being in it at all. It's just not a priority for them. That's what disappoints me. You can justify these absences from a logical perspective, but I just care way more about Amy and Rouge as characters than I do about Shadow, so there's no way for this to not sting.

But, at the end of the day, for what the movie is actually trying to do, it seems to be pulling it off well. Aside from the fat jokes. I don't like the fat jokes. But the Shadow stuff is good. As always, this live action version of the franchise is never going to be my ideal version of Sonic, but it's turned out far better than it had any right to, and I'll probably have fun when I go see this in theaters and hear Live and Learn.

[alchemistc]

Based on this post by @beefcakekinard because I couldn't flesh it out enough in the tags

read on ao3

could be with you

"Didn't you have a date on Saturday?"

Tommy's eyes dart up. Galway is staring at him, hand on hip, brow raised, and Tommy sighs. "Never said it was a date."

"Yeah, but you had a moony look in your eye. Been a while since I've seen it, but I know your date face."

Tommy does his best to keep things neutral on his face. Clearly that doesn't work, because Galway's expression goes sympathetic immediately.

"Oh, bad date. Damn, Kinard, tough luck."

Tommy's had to get used to the fact that everyone at Harbor always wants in each other's business. It's pretty superficial shit, most of the time, but they always want to know the scoop, anyway.

He feels the flash of disappointment, followed immediately by a lick of defensiveness. Damnit. "Wasn't even a bad date, right up until the end."

Galway looks intrigued, but Tommy's not quite ready to entertain it. He's still stewing, a bit. Annoyed with himself for the way he'd reacted in the moment -- a beat too far because he'd given Evan an easy out and he'd grabbed it and flung it in the opposite direction.

Right, Evan?

God. What a dick thing to say. He'd -- panicked, a little. They both had, in their own ways.

If he'd known, going into it, exactly how new this was to him, maybe he'd have --

Lowered his expectations.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Tommy says, to get Galway off his back about it, and rolls his arms back to tug his flight suit the rest of the way up. And that's the crux of it, really. Tommy's spent too much of his life hiding away, and Evan hadn't even known he had something to hide until -- until what, the moment he realized other people could see them? He hadn't panicked in the moment -- that first moment, Tommy guessed, now that he knew a little more -- when their lips had met. Hadn't panicked in the days between, when the flirting had bordered on ridiculous in their texts back and forth. Hadn't panicked when Tommy picked him up, hand settling at the small of his back to guide him to the passenger side of his truck, or when Tommy complimented his shirt, or on the drive to the restaurant, Tommy nervously tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while Evan rattled on about beekeeping. They'd both been nervous.

Nerves, he understood. Nerves had settled under his skin the moment he closed the door to Evan's apartment, nerves like he hadn't felt in a good long while because he couldn't remember being so immediately charmed by someone in... a while.

Even through most of the date he'd been able to chalk it up to maybe being in a more public setting than he'd realized. They were both in a field that didn't immediately feel inclusive. Both big, manly looking men, and maybe Evan just hadn't done a lot of that before. Maybe Tommy wasn't his usual type. (Hindsight, as they say.)

He could have rolled with the first date with a dude thing -- awkward as it was, surprising as it was, considering the first time a man had come on to Tommy he'd nearly punched him about it. He'd had to reset some expectations, reevaluate some of his preconceived notions on the fly. That wasn't exactly a deal breaker. He liked Evan. Likes him still, in the light of day with a little time to dig into why exactly it had hurt so much to be sidelined in front of a mutual friend.

And he's still a little embarrassed he'd let it get to him enough to make a snide comment that could have outed him when he was clearly not ready to be out.

But it was one date. A good first date, even, until they'd been a bit blindsided by Eddie Diaz.

Which -- he'd walked himself in circles in his own mind about the Eddie Diaz of it all, anyway, half convinced he was slamming headfirst into the middle of some weird co-parents with benefits scenario. The fishing he'd had to do to even attempt to figure out that situation. He's fairly convinced, at this point, that neither one of them has any hidden latent romantic notions, about the other, but that hadn't really helped the situation, either.

"So no second date in the cards, huh?"

Tommy blinks. Swallows. "Nah," he says, but --

But maybe. If the timing was right.

Christ, Tommy, it was one disappointing date with an admittedly sweet, and kind, and fucking gorgeous guy. A guy with a devastating smile and a wide breadth of useless facts and a great ass and enough heart to fill the Greater Los Angeles area.

The text, later that evening, should surprise him more than it does.

Evan 9:34 PM: Hey, could I give you a call later, if you're not on shift?

Tommy stares at it for ten whole minutes, tucked behind a shelf laden with cleaning supplies while the rest of the crew is huddled around a Kings game in the downtime between calls.

I'm on until 8AM, he shoots back, and then stares at it until he gets a read receipt. Up above Evan's latest text there's a full thread he hadn't had the heart to delete, quite yet, and he can still see the image of the chicken Evan had taken his not great hand at drawing blades on the talons of. Call around half past?

It's a bad idea. He's had worse ones, but.

He gets another read receipt before he can flip away from the conversation, and three little dots that appear and disappear four times before another message pops through.

Evan 9:47 PM: Talk to you in the morning!

And then.

Evan 9:47 PM: Have a good shift. Be safe!

Shit.

--------

He's played out the phone call all the way through about twelve times in his head. Evan's a good guy. Sweet, kind, a little sassy but never mean. He's expecting a thank you, maybe an apology, although he doesn't need it.

He pulls the truck into the closest parking lot when Evan's name flashes across the screen.

"Hey," he says, once he's parked and prepared for the softest let down he's had in years.

"Uh - hey, hi. Hi, Tommy."

Evan Buckley says his name like a benediction. He's never really noticed the way it sounds, until Evan Buckley started saying it. God, this one might sting.

"Hi," he says. They drift into silence.

"Hi. Sorry. Hey. I called you. So. I should. I should say what I wanted to say."

"I'm all ears," Tommy tells him, charmed despite himself, wishing he could see his face.

"I --." The pause is...long. Awkward. Tommy wonders if he's running over a script on his head. "Actually, could we -- do you have any time this morning? Could we talk in person? If -- I mean obviously if you have plans, or, hell, you just got a shift, I'm sure you're tired, we don't have to --."

"I'm about thirty minutes out from home. Let me take a shower, run a few errands. We could meet around noon?" Bad idea. Still. But there's a small, tiny piece of him that thinks Evan might work through his shit at a much quicker speed than Tommy could ever manage. At the very least, he owes it to a younger, angrier Tommy to play this out.

"That -- yeah, that'd be..." He pauses. "You're sure?"

"I'll send you a pin. There's a coffee shop near where I'll be."

"Okay. Okay yeah. I -- just let me know if you're running late, or anything. I'll. I'll be there."

"I'll see you in a few hours, Evan."

"Okay. Yeah. See you in a bit."

Neither one of them hangs up.

Evan's nervous laugh fills the cab, and Tommy presses his head back until he can feel the headrest pressing into his skull. "Bye, Tommy. See you soon."

----

He'd slept where he could, the night before, actually feels pretty well rested, for working an overnight, for spending every free moment wondering what the hell Evan wanted to call him about, for trying real damn hard to temper his fucking expectations. His two wolves are disappointed expectations and romantic notions, constantly warring with each other.

Evan shoots him a text as he's leaving the barber two doors down.

Evan 11:49 AM: Headed out to the patio, see you in a few

Tommy is absolutely not drawing conclusions about him showing up early. None.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and ducks into the walkway that leads to the courtyard around back.

He'd chosen this place for a few specific reasons -- proximity to his haircut appointment, proximity to Evan's apartment, his knowledge of the lobby of the coffee shop and all it's private little nooks tucked away in corners. Something to ease Evan's mind, a little.

Yet when Tommy finally spots him, he's in the middle of a crowded courtyard, already seated, wearing a light, airy looking polo that stretches tight across his shoulders, and his smile when he spots Tommy burns brighter than the sun on Tommy's newly-shorn scalp.

Tempered expectations.

He doesn't sit, right away. Maybe this had just been an easier way to find each other in the midday crowds. Maybe this conversation won't be long enough to merit sitting.

Evan gestures at the coffee he'd apparently gambled on, and Tommy finds himself sitting before he can talk himself out of it. His posture is a mess, he knows it, but he can't quite help curling in on himself, feeling small as Evan studies him, as the white noise of the people all around them fills his ears. The coffee is terrible. The company is dangerously enchanting.

Evan Buckley goes from zero to sixty in under a second.

-----

Tommy is good at keeping a lid on the part of himself that longs to be romanced, to do some romancing of his own. He's had enough flops to be hyper aware that the reality of dating never follows a soppy script.

Evan says I think that something could be with you and reality takes a rain check, for a minute. Tommy shifts. Tommy flounders. Tommy had prepared for an easy let down, a promise to stay friends and a few awkward encounters in the Diaz living room. Tommy fights the smile, takes a deep breath, admits what he's been trying to deny since he cut things short.

"You already know that I'm interested." It's an easy out -- he's good at catching the ball and tossing it back immediately. It's a risk, but he thinks he and Evan are on the same page about what Tommy's willing to sacrifice, and what he isn't. Evan had made it a point to be out here in the open for this conversation, after all.

Evan takes the shot from half-court.

It catches the rim. Wobbles. Spins.

"Evan," he says, and he means it to sound stern, a hint of incredulity. He's not entirely sure it hits the mark.

And then he's doing that thing he does -- bright-eyed optimism, body language open, a smile curling at his mouth, pressing, pushing, digging into the rocky crevices of Tommy's skepticism and wiping them smooth. It's an insane idea. He's been to...two, three weddings with a date of his own? All long term relationships, because there's something about witnessing eternal vows next to someone that means something to you, something that makes it all a little more real.

But Evan is persistent. And dropping very loaded clues, hinting that he's talked to his sister about him -- them. Tommy doesn't know much, but his relationship with his sister had come up in conversation, he knows they're close. Hinting that he's well aware an invite means he's pulling the lid off 'picking up hot chicks' secrecy.

He doesn't even get all the way through "Are you absolutely sure about this?" before Evan is grinning, leaning in to meet Tommy's gaze, an emphatic confirmation escaping him, and suddenly it's intimate.

Tommy can't think of a reason to say no.

[lacy-oh-lacy]

-𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝-

Scream Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: A protective!Sam, comfort drabble

CW: sexual harrassment and non-consensual touching but the fic takes place after the fact, violence, Sam is mildly injured, guilt, angst

Most days you liked having a protective girlfriend.

Most days you felt safe knowing Sam had your back, practically untouchable.

Today wasn't one of those days. Standing in front of her, examining the purple blooming on her face you only felt terribly uneasy.

A hiss escaped Sam's teeth as biting cold connected with her jaw.

"Sorry." You said, grabbing her hand with your free one -the one not holding an ice pack to her face- and her fingers curled around it in a reassuring grip.

"It's alright."

'Alright'. The word felt like a taunt.

You kept gnawing at the inside of your cheek, the same way guilt kept gnawing at your gut.

It was entirely illogical of course. It wasn't your fault. That man never should of put his hands on you.

"I'm alright." She said firmer, obviously noticing the storm cloud hanging over your head. Her tone softened as she added, "I'm more worried about you."

"Me? I didn't get hit."

Her doe eyes looked so emotional and protective -and as guilty as you felt.

"You got assualted."

Just like that, the memory you had mentally sidelined swung back like a wrecking ball and a fresh wave of nausea made your stomach clench.

The fear that gripped you when Sam started swinging at the man -and worse when he started swinging back- overpowered the wholly different kind of fear you felt when he first began lingering a little too close to you, taking advantage of the crowded street to invade your personal space.

You were lucky to have Sam. Her sharp eyes clocked him immediately, even before discomfort grew heavy in your stomach. His groping hands were barely on you a few seconds before she could push him away.

"I know... but you should've been more careful. You could've gotten hurt."

"You know I've been stabbed before, right?" She said lightly, trying to sound unfazed. "Like... a lot."

"Yeah and I don't want it to happen again." The words came out harsh and regret followed swiftly.

Great. She helped you and now you were snapping at her.

"I don't want you to get hurt." You amended. Your voice was barely above a whisper but the pain laced through it was loud and clear.

"I know." Sam let go of your hand to pull you into her lap, her arms wrapping around your waist. "I don't want you to get hurt either, that's why I had to do something."

Her hold was soft, warm, protective... The total opposite of that stranger's touch.

You twisted around until you could see her face, her attentive eyes still trained on you, only fluttering closed as you leaned in.

Her lips were gentle against yours -hesitant. You guessed you could understand why. Even with that, the contact filled you with reassurance.

You pulled back, pecking her nose on the way. Despite herself, she couldn't stop the upturn of her lips at the gesture and seeing her smile made you mindlessly mirror it.

"Thank you for that... for having my back."

Her hold on you tightened just a fraction as if to prove the point.

"Always."

[warblogs17282]

Another argument I don't understand from the helluva boss 'critical' crowd is the 'they're uwufying/coddling Stolas' argument.

I've most likely covered this in the 'both sides fucked up' post I've made before but I want to challenge the claim more head on this time.

Like Stolas is a character with multiple flaws that he needs to work on and has been brought to the forefront quite a bit, a few examples of these are the alcoholism (rehab has been stated to exist in hell twice now, so that's most likely gonna become a plot point at some point in the show), the subconscious racism/classism (the harvest moon festival is a major example of that), we know Blitz is in the right when he calls Stolas out for it in apology tour in the first few minutes of the episode because that's literally the point, how is Stolas supposed to just magically undo 25 years of the learned racism/classism starting from as early as we know, 10 years old, that shit takes time, Stolas is not at that point where he's self aware enough to realise how much he hurt Blitz with those behaviours, with the self aware part being stated in the description of the apology tour video. They explicitly brought attention to Stolas' flaws regarding the racism/classism thing so it'd be shit writing for Vivzie to not bring it attention again in the near future, they've established it as a flaw Stolas has so he's gonna have to learn to undo that during the show.

Also, in the trailer there's a line that very much tells us that Stolas is gonna have to face and learn from his problems face on. 'You never loved mother, and you don't love me, you love him.' The wording on it makes it very clear it's being spoken to Stolas, and as much as Stolas tries to give Octavia a normal life as Stolas loves Octavia so much, it just gave Octavia all the reason to believe that Stolas never loved Stella and her, because all Octavia knows up at this point is that Stolas cheated on Stella with a to her, random imp, which in her viewpoint, would confirm that the love was never there for Stella and her, leading to her villainising Stolas because of it. Octavia knows none of the abuse Stella inflicted upon Stolas. Plus, as much as Stolas tries to be an active part of Octavia's life as a father, he still fails at it. The main proof of this being in seeing stars, the phone call where Stolas was getting really intense arguing with Stella, pushing Octavia to the sideline as a result. 'Why does he hate her more than he loves me.' This scene just shows truly how Octavia feels about Stolas right now, and it plays in perfectly to the line in the trailer, so while that scene does show Octavia that Stolas does care about him, she still doesn't really sense much of the love Stolas has for Octavia, with most of it in Octavia's prespective getting replaced by Stolas being forgetful about her needs and such, instead getting caught up in his own problems too much to tend to Octavia's needs, which deeply hurts Octavia inside. Just like Loona said, Stolas just messes up, Octavia can't really see that a whole lot yet however. 'You know I haven't taught you spells like this yet.' This line just really shows that Stolas keeps getting caught up in his own things that again, Octavia's needs get put on the sideline or just forgotten about until it's too late, which hurts her deeply. It shows that the things that Octavia should've been taught at that point hasn't been taught to her yet for that reason, the arrangement with Blitz and the messy divorce to be specific.

These two reasons are proof that the argument that they're gonna keep coddling Stolas and that he's not gonna learn from his character flaws and just stay the same way he is currently, is entirely bullshit.

I wrote much more about that than I expected, man I take helluva boss much more seriously than I thought, guess it just resonates with me.

For anyone seeing this now, Vivzie just basically confirmed that Stolas' flaws will be addressed

'Everything we are noticing about the plot that hasn’t been addressed, will be. Just BE PATIENT'

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 27 (final part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | AO3

rating: explicit

-----

In the morning, Jonathan and Steve and Argyle make breakfast together, and Eddie watches them move around each other kind of bemusedly. He's not sure how, but somehow, it works, and the end result is a spread enough to feed even this hoard.

They trickle out sometime after that, most of them checking on Eddie and Steve one last time. Robin hurries some of them - Dustin and Mike - along, saying Steve has to help Eddie with his physical therapy.

"Wayne's dropping me off at home," she tells them, when it's just her and his uncle waiting in the truck left. "That's my gift to you - you get the weekend to enjoy your physical therapy."

She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully, cackling at them as she leaves.

When it's just them, and the house is utterly silent, they look at each other.

"I'll lock up downstairs," Eddie offers.

"I'll take upstairs," Steve agrees, already running towards it.

Eddie checks the doors and windows, just to be safe, then books it upstairs.

Steve's already sitting on the bed, eyes scanning what looks like Eddie's discharge paperwork.

He looks up when Eddie walks into the room, his expression lighting up in a way that makes Eddie's heart beat a little quicker.

"We need to talk," he blurts out, before he can let himself get distracted by the urge to kiss Steve senseless.

Steve's face falls. "Oh," he says. "Um. Yeah, okay, sure."

"About Jason," Eddie adds hurriedly. "And everything that happened."

"Oh! Right, you're right. Of course." Steve sets the papers aside, scooting up on the bed so Eddie can come sit across from him.

Steve immediately gets his hands on Eddie's knees when he does, leaning into his space. "How are you doing?"

That's not what Eddie meant, but he lets himself think about the question anyway.

"I don't know," he admits. "Can we come back to that?"

Steve makes a face at him. "That won't work forever," he warns him.

"I know," Eddie says. "Does it help if I say this time, at least I knew I wasn't alone?"

Steve considers that. "Does it help you?"

"Yeah," Eddie says slowly. "Before - when I was in the boathouse, or on the lake, or in the woods alone, or even in the Upside Down, there was a lot of times that I thought for sure I was going to die. But last night? I believed I'd be okay. I knew you were there, I knew you all had my back."

"We always will," Steve promises, tipping his head to kiss him.

"That's the other thing we need to talk about," Eddie says. "You always being so ready to be the one to take the hits."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up? I'm not trying to get hurt."

"You still do, though," Eddie points out. "Every time. You think we don't worry about you? Look, if you can look me in the eye and tell me it's a hundred percent not because you think you're worth less than the rest of the party, or that you're only as good as what you can do for them, then I'll drop it."

Steve's jaw tightens, throat working as he swallows.

"Thought so," Eddie says when Steve's been silent for a while.

"I don't exactly think I'm worth less," Steve says.

Eddie waits, but there's no lie, so he relaxes a little.

"But I guess I do think this is what I'm good for," Steve continues. "This is how I can help them."

"Stevie," Eddie whispers, his heart breaking a little. "There's so much more to you than just that, okay? You're more than that to them. To us."

He knows that Joyce said it last night, and he's pretty sure that Robin must have told him it at least a dozen times, but he's also pretty sure that Steve needs to hear it as much as possible.

Steve gives him a bittersweet little smile. "What else am I supposed to do, Eds, sit on the sidelines? Let one of the kids get hurt instead?"

"That's not - okay, look, I'm not going to ask you to stop. No when it's for the kids, and not when we all make plans for Vecna. I get it, I do," Eddie says. "But I don't want you to do it for me."

"Like you weren't going to do the same thing when Jason had the gun pointed at you," Steve says.

Which -

"Okay, fair," Eddie concedes. "But if I don't like it when you do it for me, and you don't like it when I do it for you, where does that leave us?"

Steve frowns. "I don't know. I guess - I guess we work as a team?"

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. "We did okay once we actually got on the same page?"

Steve drums his fingers on his knee. "I think this is a conversation we need to have with Robin here," he admits.

"Good call," Eddie agrees.

Steve's quiet for a moment. "But I hear you, okay? I do. I know you and Robin don't like it. Like I told her, I - I'll think about both of you before I do anything."

And that -

Yeah, actually, he thinks that's all he needs right now.

"But you have to do the same," Steve adds. "No more like what you did with the demobats."

Unlike when he promised Dustin he wouldn't do that again, he actually thinks it through this time.

"If it's Dustin or me," he says slowly. "It's going to have to be me."

Steve looks at him pointedly, and Eddie winces.

"Right, I know, it's the same for you. But I-" Eddie cuts off, trying to figure out how to say this and be honest without being too vulnerable.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, thumbs rubbing over the inside of his knees.

Right. It's Steve, his soulmate. He can be vulnerable. More than that - he thinks he needs to be vulnerable.

"I wanted to be brave," he admits. "I didn't want to run anymore. I know you don't think I had anything to prove, but I thought I did."

"What about now?" Steve asks.

"I don't know," Eddie says. "I don't think I'm an NPC anymore. But this is - I'm not like you guys, I don't know what I'll do next time. If I'll run again."

Steve frowns. "What's an NPC?"

Eddie huffs out a hollow little laugh. "Non-player character. It's the side characters in a D&D campaign, the ones that no one actually plays, they're just there to facilitate the story and then disappear."

Steve's face smooths out into understanding, and he leans in to kiss him, just the softest brush of their lips together. "Yeah," he says when he pulls back. "I figured you felt like you weren't really one of us, and that you weren't going to make it. But you don't anymore?"

"No," Eddie says. "I don't really know what to do with it, but I know this is it. This is where I want to be. You, uh. You're it for me, too, Stevie."

He'd already accidently fessed up to overhearing Steve and Robin's conversation, after all, so he might as well go all in.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, kissing him again. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Eddie whispers. Then he pulls back, arching one eyebrow. "So how about that physical therapy?"

Steve pulls Eddie's discharge paperwork back out.

"Wait, you - you actually wanted to do the stupid stretches? I thought that was a euphemism!" Eddie says, disappointed.

Steve bumps their knees together. "If you don't stretch out that leg first, you're going to cramp up in the middle of something you really don't want to be cramping up in."

"Oh. Oh! Okay, I'll take it." Eddie flops onto his back on the bed, legs sprawled out. "Okay, Stevie, you're the jock here. Get me stretched out."

Steve laughs, scooting over to get his hands on Eddie's leg. He spreads the paperwork out next to him, looking at it for a moment before he dives right into it.

Eddie lets out a surprised grunt as Steve maneuvers his leg, one hand cupping his knee and the other on his thigh. He can feel it deep in his hip as it rotates nice and slow, can feel the stretch of his thigh, but no there's no sharp pains like he might have expected.

"Tell me if it hurts," Steve says, glancing back at the paper and then moving him again.

The diagrams hadn't been all that helpful when Eddie'd looked, and he'd figured he'd have to actually read through the written instructions a few more times to make any kind of sense of them. But Steve moves his leg around easy as anything, his guiding hands gentle and firm and every movement nice and fluid.

Eddie props himself up on his elbow so he can get a better look at Steve. "You're pretty good at this. Hey, I bet you'd make a good physical therapist."

Steve hums noncommittally.

"No?" Eddie asks.

"I mean, sure, maybe, one day. For now? I might get the Family Video job back, or somewhere else around town that's still open, but until Vecna's down for good, my full time job's gonna be - what'd you call it? Being a paladin."

Eddie can't exactly refute that, but shit, everything about that statement sucks.

Well, almost everything.

"You know, I can see the barbarian side of you, too," Eddie teases.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, full time paladin, part time barbarian."

Eddie snickers. "You're already multiclassing."

Steve scoffs, but his expression is unbelievably fond. "I can't believe how into it I am when you're being a giant nerd, it's pretty embarrassing."

It makes Eddie's insides go all warm and gooey, Steve looking at him like that, and yet -

"You are, though, right? Into it?" he finds himself asking.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, leaning in closer. "I'm into everything about you. It's you."

Eddie tries to just accept it. It's clearly not a lie, but something about the way Steve says it like it should be obvious makes him hunch in on himself a little.

"Right, who wouldn't be into a nerdy, virgin, drug dealing super super senior?"

Steve frowns, pulling back to look at him. There's a scrunch between his brows that says he's thinking hard about something, and Eddie wants so bad to reach out to smooth it out.

Wait.

Now he can.

Eddie presses his thumb to the little spot, rubbing it like he's rubbing away whatever Steve's thinking about that's making him make that face.

Steve huffs out a laugh, batting his hand away. "All right, let's look at this," he says, rocking back on his heels and holding up one finger.

"First - in case you haven't noticed, all of my friends are huge nerds, man. I'm kind of a nerd, I just look like much less of one compared to all of you. Second -" Steve puts up another finger. "All right, I'm not super thrilled about the drug dealing when it comes to the harder stuff, but you did what you had to, and I'd be a huge hypocrite if I complained about the weed. Third - it's high school. Weren't you the one who said it feels like it's a lot less important now in the face of everything else?"

"That's different," Eddie mutters, feeling a little bit overwhelmed. He's not used to having someone systematically refute almost all of his points about himself like that, and he doesn't know what to do with it other than focus on the one it feels like Steve doesn't understand. "That was social conformity, this is - this is fucking graduating, man."

He's not sure what he'd do if Steve brushed it off again. Fortunately, Steve just shifts a little, laying down on his side next to him.

"Will you tell me?" Steve asks.

Eddie turns to face him more, hand coming up to fiddle with the hem of Steve's shirt. "My dad never graduated," he says finally. "Dropped out after junior year when they told him that it wasn't looking good for him to be able to graduate, said there were bigger and better things out there than high school, anyway. I don't want to be like him, I don't want to give up."

Steve brushes his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. "You fought Vecna with us. You stuck with us, even now. You decided to work with me on making our bond romantic even when you thought Robin and I were together. You aren't the give up type, Eddie, and if graduating is important to you, then it's important to me, too. I know you can do it."

Eddie slips his hand under Steve's shirt, thumb rubbing over his waist. "Yeah? You gonna cheer for me at graduation?"

Steve quirks a little grin. "I'll yell for you and Robs so loud you'll hear me over everyone else."

Eddie kisses him.

"Noticed you didn't say anything about the virgin thing," he jokes when they break for air.

Eddie doesn't actually think that's an issue for Steve, not after how he'd reacted when Eddie first told him, but when Steve doesn't say anything, it makes him frown a little.

"Steve?" he asks, pulling back to look at him.

"It's not like that's going to be true much longer," Steve points out, but there's something about the way he says it that makes Eddie narrow his eyes at him.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie drawls, delighted. "Is that a thing for you? Do you have a virgin thing?"

"I don't have a-" Steve starts to protest, then amends it to, "I don't exactly have a virgin thing."

"Oh, but you have a sort of virgin thing?" Eddie teases. "You're into it, aren't you, popping cherries?"

Steve shoves him as Eddie cackles, and before long Steve's giving a little snort of laughter too.

"Shut up," Steve says. "I just - I like being able to make someone's first experience a good one, okay? I like that someone's trusted me enough to be their first time. And - maybe I really like the idea of being that for you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice softening a little. "You gonna make it good for me, Stevie?"

Steve props himself up so he can lean over Eddie, dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You gonna let me?" he asks, just as soft.

Eddie swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll let you."

Steve hums in response, kissing along the line of his jaw.

Eddie grunts when Steve bites him just under the edge of his jaw, his hips bucking up involuntarily at the sensation of Steve's tongue soothing over the sting from his teeth.

His hands push under Steve's shirt, fingertips scratching through the hair over his stomach as he pushes the fabric up.

"Off," he mutters, tugging insistently, until Steve finally pulls away from his neck to strip off his shirt.

Eddie groans, finally getting to openly stare at him the way he couldn't do the last time Steve was shirtless. He reaches out eagerly, palms sweeping up Steve's ribs before he pushes his fingers through the fucking lush mat of hair on his chest.

Steve grunts as Eddie skims over some of his soulmate words, eyes going wide. "Fuck."

"Right?" Eddie agrees, sliding one hand back down to do it again.

Steve shoves his own hands under Eddie's shirt, manhandling him a little to get him sitting up enough that he can pull it off.

Eddie's dick twitches, practically straining against his jeans - yup, Jesus Christ, confirmed that is definitely a thing for him.

When it's Steve, at least.

He expects Steve to get his hands on him, the way Eddie's still stroking possessively over Steve's chest, but instead Steve dips down and gets his mouth on his collarbone, sucking a mark into his skin.

Eddie makes a choked off sound, something between a moan and a curse.

"That okay?" Steve asks quietly.

One of Eddie's hands abandons Steve's chest so he can push it into his hair instead, tangling in the soft strands so he can hold him right where he is.

"So fucking okay," Eddie says.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, the puff of warm air against his collarbone sending a little shiver down Eddie's spine.

He doesn't dive back in immediately, though, leaving Eddie squirming and arching his hips up.

"What're you waiting for?" he demands.

"Looking for something," Steve replies.

Before Eddie can ask what, Steve dives back in, tongue dragging a line over his sternum.

Right where Eddie knows it says I don't think you're brave.

If Eddie thought it was overwhelming before, having Steve's hands on his words, it's got nothing on his tongue. The wet heat against his chest seems to have a direct line to his dick, and when Steve's lips brush over another line of words on his stomach, he feels it fucking everywhere.

Eddie's not entirely sure how, but somehow, they manage to get both of their jeans and underwear shoved down and tossed aside.

There's so much fucking bare skin, and Eddie's greedy for it, reaching out and touching anything he can reach as Steve practically makes out with every bit of soulmate ink he can find.

Eddie throws his head back as Steve sinks lower, tongue carefully tracing one of raised red lines of his mostly healed bite marks without quite touching it, teeth grazing along one of the bisected words instead.

His hands tangle in Steve's hair again, grip a little harder than he means to - but Steve gives this punched out moan, and fuck, okay, Eddie's going to assume a little hair tugging is on the table.

Steve finds the words on the inside of Eddie's thigh, the ones that say I don't care about my soulmate, too, and I won't do anything to keep them safe, and if Steve's hands weren't on his hips, Eddie's pretty sure he would have hit Steve in the face with how hard he bucks up when Steve bites him there.

"Steve," he manages to get out. "Steve, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," Steve says, getting one hand around his cock and stroking over him. "Come on, Eds."

His grip on Steve's hair tightens so much it has to hurt when he comes, spilling all over Steve's hand and his own stomach with a strangled shout. Steve strokes him through it, like he's trying to get every last bit of sensation out of him that he can.

Eddie's panting harshly when Steve finally lets go, and his hands slip out of Steve's hair as Steve pulls back to sit up.

His brain is practically mush, and he's not sure he can even feel all of his limbs, let alone move them, but he still makes a greedy little noise when Steve rocks back on his heels and Eddie gets his first good look at his cock.

"Gimme," Eddie mutters, hands twitching as he tries to reach for it.

Steve laughs softly. "Next time," he says.

Instead, he takes one of Eddie's hands in his, lacing their fingers together. With his other hand, Steve jerks himself off, stroking quick and rough, and Eddie's fucking mesmerized by the sight.

It doesn't take long for Steve to come, too, and Eddie's feeling pretty fantastic about that. Steve is so fucking beautiful when he comes that Eddie's spent dick gives a little jolt, and he wonders how quick Steve could be ready for that next time.

Steve drops down next to him when he's finished, and they press together as close as possible, trading kisses that are more like panting into each other's mouths than anything else.

"I love you," he murmurs in Steve's ear, when he's finally got enough breath left to speak.

Steve holds him closer, burying his face in Eddie's neck. "Love you," he returns.

They lay like that for a long time, as Eddie slowly feels his heart start to calm down - as it sinks in that this is fucking real.

"You okay?" Steve asks after a while, voice soft.

"I'm fucking fantastic," Eddie replies.

Steve hums happily, finally tipping his head up so he can kiss him. "That was a first for me, too, you know," he admits quietly.

Eddie smiles. "First boy Steve Harrington ever slept with, that's a pretty good achievement."

Steve rolls his eyes. "First and last," he points out, which -

Hmm.

Okay, apparently that might be kind of a thing for Eddie, too.

"Ruined you for all other men, didn't I?" Eddie asks smugly.

Steve snorts, pinching his side.

Eddie just grins at him, wide and gleeful, until Steve huffs out a little laugh and kisses him again.

"You're lucky I really like seeing you like this," Steve retorts.

"What, all fucked out?" Eddie asks.

"Nah. Like seeing you happy."

Oh.

"Stevie," he murmurs, gently pushing his fingers through Steve's hair.

Steve tilts his head into his hand for a moment. Then he smirks. "Besides, that wasn't anywhere close to what I plan to do to get you all fucked out."

Eddie's dick twitches again.

"So, uh. How soon can we have that next time?" he asks.

Steve grins at him. "Lunch first, then round two?"

"Hell yes," Eddie agrees.

It's going to be a fucking fantastic weekend.

—

Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler graduate with the rest of their class that year.

And this time, finally, so does Eddie Munson.

Graduation doesn't happen until July, with all the delays, but Eddie is right there among the class of '86, wearing Steve's jeans and one of his uncle's button ups and all of his rings and chains under his cap and gown.

Robin's name gets called first, and Eddie joins the near deafening roar that comes from all of the people cheering her in the bleachers. He can faintly hear Steve shouting "That's my girl!" over everyone else, but Eddie's not sure if that's because Steve's actually louder than all of them or because he's listening out for Steve more.

When it's Eddie's turn - he honestly doesn't know what to expect. It might be dramatic of him, but he wouldn't be all that surprised if he got tomatoes thrown at him.

What he gets, though, is a roar just as deafening and a fucking standing ovation from two rows of the bleachers. He can hear his uncle shouting "That's my son!", a whoop that sounds like a battle cry coming from the party, and Steve damn near screaming, "That's my boy!"

Eddie can't resist throwing out a pair of devil horns after he takes his diploma.

Vecna is still out there, and Hawkins is still a shithole, and Eddie still doesn't have any more of an idea of what his future holds than he did when he was still in high school.

But he's got two soulmates, and a boyfriend, and a family big enough to fill two rows of the bleachers, and as long as he's got them by his side?

They can handle anything that comes for them.

-----

And we have officially reached the end! I do have a little bit more planned in this verse eventually - a couple of B side things and some prequels from Steve's POV, and a one shot of the campaign they all agreed to play, but for now, this is completed.

I wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented! The response to this honestly astounded me a little, and I wouldn't have been so motivated to finish this without reading everyone's comments and tags in their reblogs. Thank you all so, so much, and a massive thank you to the Steddie fandom in general!! I'm definitely not done with this pairing, and I hope to have more done for them soon.

Tag list: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[wcbblife]

Can you make a short drabble about Juju getting hurt and the reader comforting her?? I don't have anything specific in mind so just do what you think is best. Thank youu

Hurt Juju X fem!reader

a/n: hopefully you like it anon! Sorry for just disappearing like that 😭

Rehabilitation had been utterly exhausting today. After such a successful volleyball season with the Trojans, being sidelined for an entire series of games felt almost soul-crushing. Yet, you resolved to push through, focusing on recovery and coming back stronger next year.

Glancing at the time, you found it strange that Juju hadn't called. Her game had ended hours ago, but your phone remained silent, devoid of any calls or texts. Normally, you would have dropped by to watch her play, but the off-season healing process had drained your energy.

Juju had been totally understanding, but you couldn't quell the guilt gnawing at you. Deciding to take a risk, you call her, hoping she's done with the press and everything else.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Nothing.

Before you can try again, a knock on your front door startles you, draining almost all the blood from your face. “Babe, it's me. Open the door.” Juju's voice, exasperated and tired, comes from the other side.

Ignoring the dull throbbing in your knee, you wobble over and pull the door open quickly.

There stood Juju, her head hanging uncharacteristically low, her frame swallowed by a huge hoodie. You know something's wrong. “Hey, come in,” you whisper, pulling her closer by the front of her hoodie.

She lets you, offering no resistance.

“Ju, look at me.” You cup her face, and that's when you see it—a shallow gash under her cheekbone. You also catch a glimpse of something under her hoodie.

“What happened?”

Juju shrugs, letting her bags drop to the ground carelessly. “The refs felt like being shit today, I guess.” She grips her side as if in pain.

You slide your hands around her. “Let me help you.”

“You're hurt, babe. I'll do it myself.” Juju tries to get you to sit down, but you can't—not when she’s practically begging with her eyes for you to just… touch her.

“Juju, you're hurt too. Let me take care of you.” A wave of uncertainty flashes in her eyes. “It's the least I can do.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, slouching towards you. She grabs your waist, trying to help you with your injured knee, but you gently move her hand to your shoulder, giving her a look.

“Don’t worry about me.” You both sway to the bathroom of your dorm, and you make her sit on the counter. She does so without much difficulty, but you notice the wince that flashes across her face.

“I’m sorry for taking so long. They were checking I was okay. I would've called you, but I lost track of time and just…” She continues rambling as you search for the first aid kit wordlessly.

Juju writhes on her spot, almost anxiously.

You open the small container, glancing over at her. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay.” An invisible weight seems to lift from her shoulders as she keeps her eyes trained on you while you move around the small bathroom. You then stop in front of her, nestling yourself between her long legs.

“Still, I feel bad.”

A soft smile creeps onto your face. Even in pain, Juju couldn’t stop thinking about you. You tug at the hem of her hoodie, silently asking her to take it off. “Please don’t. You’re here now, and that’s what matters to me.” Seeing that Juju is planted to her spot, you take the initiative, dragging her hoodie up across her midriff and over her head once she raises her arms slowly.

“Oh, Juju.” The gasp that escapes you is inevitable as your eyes land on a maze of bandages crisscrossing her right shoulder. She tries to hide it but fails miserably. Your fingers slowly hover over the area. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“It could be worse,” she chuckles slightly, then immediately stops and clears her throat when she sees your unamused face. “Just a simple injury, babe.”

“Who even did this?” You trail your finger softly over the bandaged area, too afraid to apply any pressure.

She shrugs. “Beats me.” Juju then falls deathly quiet, fiddling with her basketball shorts. Seeing your serious expression, she pulls you closer, wanting to be near you. “I just wanted to be here with you.” You cup her face again, your own face just centimeters away. She wraps her arms around your midriff, hugging you impossibly close. “I’m going to get blood on your shirt,” she mumbles, yet she doesn’t pull away, nudging her nose into the crook of your neck.

“Eugh, you’re right,” Juju chuckles lightly, her breath caressing your skin, making you giggle. “You should kiss me then.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She mumbles, tilting her head to the side. If one of you moved even a little, your mouths would slot perfectly against each other.

“Alright…” You try to tease her by pulling away, but the look on her face tells you she is in no mood for games.

Juju pulls you into a searing kiss by the back of your neck, almost knocking you off balance. You manage to stay upright by grabbing her thighs, positioned on either side of your hips. Juju lets out a soft groan as you squeeze the skin beneath your fingers, practically melting into you.

You press your front against hers, deepening the kiss. Juju sighs softly—painfully—as she backs away. “Shit.” Before you can open your eyes, she presses her lips onto yours again.

But before she can take it any further, she pulls back, holding the gash on her cheekbone. “It hurts,” she murmurs, anticipating your question.

“Right, sorry. Let’s get this done.” You laugh gently, reaching over to the medicine in the small box and getting to work on her face.

She sits there quietly, like a child who’s been reprimanded.

“Don’t get mad.”

“I’m not,” she mumbles, “just wanted to make out.”

“Yeah, well, we still need to ice your shoulder. So, we might have to pause this for later.”

[midnighttrainns]

can you kiss it better, kai azer

kai azer x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, violence/fighting & blood, like one swear word, suggestive.

summary: Kai and reader are sparring in practice for the trials, she hurts him and he asks for a kiss as an apology and a little more ends up happening.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is my first fic so yay!

masterlist

With the upcoming trials everyone has been training more than usual, I’m lost in my thoughts training with my Bloom (plant manipulation) abilities near the tree border when I feel a presence behind me sending brambles up from the ground making them snake around their legs and up their arms as quick as lightning before turning around to see who snuck up on me.

Kai Azer. 

He now stands in front of me with his arms crossed and a cocky smirk gracing his face. “Hey darling,” he chuckles looking down at the brambles holding his body in place. “As much as I love your little plants could you let me go please?” He asks looking back at me.

“Wow, Azer, you have manners?” I tease taking a few steps closer to him.

“Only for you, y/n.” His smirk turns into a wide grin as he watches my brambles wind back into the earth beneath us.

I laugh dryly, “Did you come over here for a reason?”

“Spar with me?” He questions and I nod in response.

He smiles leading me over to the sparring ring. We each grab a sword off the rack and get into a fighting stance, circling each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kitt and Jax approach us, watching from the sidelines. I stare at Kai waiting for him to make the first move and he does stepping towards me and swinging his blade in my direction. I raise my sword blocking his strike. We go back and forth attacking and defending until he catches me off guard and knocks me to the ground. He follows me down pinning me to the ground.

Our bodies are pressed together as he says, “I win,” with an extremely cocky smirk thinking it’s the end and I’m going to tap out.

“No,” I heave pushing up and flipping us over so I’m straddling him and summoning vines from the dirt winding them around his wrists and ankles making sure he can’t move. “You don’t.” With our swords now out of reach, I grab a dagger from my boot and press it to his neck applying pressure. For a few seconds, he just stares at me breathing heavily before speaking.

“I guess I underestimated you,” he admits.

“You would think after all these years of y/n beating you, you would learn brother,” Kitt calls from the side.

I look over in their direction forgetting they still stood, watching us. When I look back at Kai he leans his head up and with the pressure I’m putting on the dagger it slices his skin, not deep enough to cause serious damage but his blood still leaks from the wound. When I see the blood I retract my blade standing up and removing my vines allowing him to move.

He stands up and wipes the blood from his neck, bringing his hand up to inspect it. “Look what you’ve done to me, darling.”

“Come on you big baby,” I tease grabbing his hand and leading him out of the sparring ring. When we pass Kitt and Jax I look at them as Jax winks at me and Kitt smiles widely. Once we pass them and head up the path to the palace I hear them laughing.

The sounds of our feet were the only thing filling the silence on the way to Kai’s room. We enter his bathroom and he leans against the sink while I get out the medical kit.

“You know I can go to a healer, right?” Kai asks.

“I know” I reply not giving him a further explanation.

I get out a wipe and begin to clean the blood from his neck without warning. He hisses in pain when the wipe makes contact with his skin giving me an unimpressed look. I finish cleaning the cut and step back looking up at his face meeting his eyes that were already staring at me with an emotion I couldn’t place.

“You know what will make this better?” He gestures to his neck, “A kiss.”

“A what?” I scoff at him, the disbelief and confusion evident in my voice.

“A kiss. Can you kiss it better?” Kai repeats back to me clarifying his question.

“Are you serious Kai?”

“Oh darling, I have never been more serious in my life.”

I stare at him for what feels like a long time but in reality, it’s probably only been a minute contemplating what I should do. He’s offering me to kiss his neck, the man I have loved since I first saw him wants me to kiss him. Against my better judgement, I lean in and gently place my lips on the cut and kiss him. I pull back and look into his eyes which are now filled with surprise and lust, like he didn’t expect me to do it. His hands find their way to my waist pulling me in closer. So close. Too close. He leans down and captures my lips in a hungry kiss. Before I even realise what is happening my body moves on its own, hands wrapping around his neck bringing him impossibly closer and kissing him back harder.

Kai Azer is kissing me. Kai fucking Azer is kissing me. This must be a dream.

We pull back breathlessly, taking a few moments to recover and process what just happened.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” Kai speaks breaking the silence.

I kiss him again in response and when I feel his tongue brush against my lips I open my mouth allowing him access. His tongue enters my mouth and I move my hands up to his hair, running my fingers through it. Everything we have felt for each other over the years is poured into the kiss, it’s magical. The things this man does to me. I can feel the control on my powers slip and vines are emerging from the tiled bathroom floor, travelling up the walls and across our feet. I pull away when I realise what is happening and get ahold of my powers and force the vines back into the floor. I look at Kai to see him with a huge smile on his face and opening his mouth to speak but before any words come out I interrupt him.

“Don’t start,” I jab an accusing finger in his direction.

“I wasn’t going to say anything” he defends holding his hands up earning him a skeptical look in response.

I grab his hand in mine and once again place my lips on his giving him a short, sweet kiss. Pulling away I look out the bathroom door into his bedroom and see the sun begin to set outside the window.

“Dinner must be soon. If we don’t go down now we will be late,” I tell him, “Kitt and Jax will be wondering where we disappeared to.”

“I just had my tongue down your throat and you’re thinking about my brother?” He questions.

“And Jax,” I add laughing, “And trust me I won’t forget about that kiss for a long time.”

“Me too darling,” He agrees and for a moment longer we stand there staring into each other's eyes.

I grab his hand leading him out of his room as he follows closely behind, “Come on Azer.”

“Can we continue this later?” Kai asks from behind me as we exit his room.

“I’ll think about it,” I say looking back and smiling to let him know that I was only joking and we will definitely be continuing this after dinner.

[febuary30thday]

Open up the safe, bitches got a lot to say

Yan! Sanemi with a reader with a uniform like Mitsuri's

(Giyu is also a yandere for you, cause I said so)

(Ufotable & Gotouge had no business making him look this fine. He's just so babygirl, and I WILL stand by that.)

He is one of the most greedy for your affection and attention

He is possessive and psycho, but also shy and vulnerable, at times

When he sees you in that uniform, that is a huge no

No way in hell are you going out exposing your chest like that

When you point out that both of you are matching, he will humor you for like a minute at most before he goes back to serious.

I mean, he likes seeing you in it, but there is no way everyone else is going to see you in that

After compromising (smut) he will let you wear it, if you wear a haori over it

You do, but he still sees people looking at your chest, and guess what, they die

Sanemi never physically hurts you, because he doesn't like being reminded of his father, but he does manipulate you on the sidelines by forcing you into situations

He makes you feel special with that uniform, only when he is allowed to see it

He's especially on your case about men, because he knows how trashy some people can be

Sometimes, he throws the other male hashiras under the bus, especially Tengen, who sometimes flirts with you for fun

He sees Giyu giving you glances and it pisses him off

He would never beg you to get rid of it, because he has more pride than that, but he'll do things to make you feel like you're the bad one in the situation and that your uniform is bad

He'll even undermine Kanroji as well, when you try to bring up her uniform

He doesn't really like her all that much anyway

His whole message is: GET RID OF IT

But, he loves you!!

[bunnysnuff]

Chapter 4.

Pairing: Charlie spring x F!twin!Reader (siblings), Charlie spring x nick Nelson, nick Nelson x F!reader.

Trigger warnings: PLEASE READ!! Self-Harm, bullying, toxic relationships, jealousy and competition (siblings), & body image issues.

Masterlist:

—

Summary: Dear Charlie, we shared the same womb; I love you. I’m sorry.

The hum of the bus engine filled the space between Charlie and his sister as they sat side by side, staring out the window as the town blurred past. The early morning sunlight spilled in through the windows, casting soft shadows on the worn fabric of the seats. It was one of those mornings where neither of them felt like talking much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. At least, not yet.

Charlie shifted beside her, breaking the quiet. “You ever think about... what you actually want in a relationship?” His voice was soft, hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if he should even be asking.

She glanced at him, slightly surprised. Charlie didn’t usually bring up things like this, not since everything that had happened with his ex. He’d never mentioned him by name, but she knew. She knew how badly he had hurt Charlie, how toxic that relationship had been. How it had nearly destroyed him.

“I guess,” she replied, careful to keep her tone neutral, though her heart twinged a little. This was dangerous territory.

Charlie bit his lip, eyes still focused on the passing scenery. “I just... I don’t know. I thought I knew what I wanted back then. I thought if someone paid attention to me, if they acted like I was special, that it was enough. But... it wasn’t.” He let out a small, bitter laugh. “It was the opposite, actually. Being with him just made me feel worse about myself.”

She knew exactly who he was talking about. Ben Hope. He never said his name anymore, as if erasing him from memory might somehow erase the damage he’d done. But the scars were there, lingering beneath the surface. She could see it in the way Charlie flinched sometimes when people got too close, or in the rare moments when he looked at himself in the mirror for too long, his expression darkening. It was a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

“I get it,” she murmured, even though she wasn’t sure if she truly did. But she wanted to. Charlie’s pain was something she had watched from the sidelines, unable to stop it, unable to protect him from the hurt that had spiraled into something much worse.

There had been days when she would find him in his room, quiet, too quiet, and she’d know something was wrong. The razor-thin scars on his wrists, the way he avoided meals, the nights she’d stay awake because she was terrified of what he might do when he was alone. Charlie had been spiraling for a long time, and she had felt powerless to save him.

Charlie shifted again, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with where his thoughts had taken him. “I think now, I just want someone who actually makes me feel good about myself, you know? Someone who... I don’t know, makes me feel safe. Someone kind.”

She swallowed, her throat tight. “Yeah. Someone who listens to you. Who makes you feel seen.”

Charlie nodded, his gaze distant. “And maybe... someone who’s funny? Like, someone who can make me laugh, even when things feel heavy. I never had that before. I want someone who’s... I don’t know, someone you can just be with. No pretending.”

She felt her stomach tighten because the person Charlie was describing wasn’t just some vague idea of what he wanted. It was Nick. She recognized every trait, every subtle hint. And she couldn’t deny that those were the same things she wanted, too.

Her mind drifted back to Nick—his easy laugh, the way he looked at her like she mattered, the way his kindness seemed to radiate from him. How he made her feel calm, and seen, and important, without ever trying too hard.

“Yeah, someone who’s thoughtful,” she added, hoping Charlie didn’t notice how her voice wavered. “Someone who... I don’t know, just does little things that make you feel like they actually care. Like when they remember something small about you, something you didn’t even think they’d notice.”

She didn’t need to say it, but she was describing Nick, too. His little gestures, his quiet attentiveness. The way he made everything feel lighter, less complicated, just by being there.

Charlie looked over at her then, his brow furrowed. Maybe he recognized it, too. The unspoken tension between them, the way they both seemed to be tiptoeing around the same thing, the same person.

The bus jolted slightly as it hit a bump, but neither of them said anything for a while. The silence was heavier now, weighted with thoughts neither of them wanted to voice.

She leaned back in her seat, staring at the ceiling of the bus, and her mind wandered back to the darker days—those days when Charlie had been at his lowest, struggling under the weight of his own self-hatred. The bullying had been relentless, the whispers about him being gay, the cruel looks and snickers when he walked down the halls. She’d wanted to protect him, to shield him from all of it, but she couldn’t. Not really.

And then there had been the nights when she’d hear him crying through the thin walls of their house, when he thought no one could hear him. She would sit outside his door, trying to will him to open it, to let her in. But he never did.

The worst had been the self-harm. The first time she saw the scars on his wrists, the breath had been knocked out of her, like the world had tilted on its axis. She didn’t know what to say, how to make him stop, how to tell him that he was worth more than whatever he thought of himself. It was like he was slipping away, and she was powerless to pull him back.

She would catch him skipping meals, staring blankly at his food, the grip of bulimia tightening around him until he was disappearing right in front of her. She remembered the fights, the pleading, the helplessness as she watched her brother sink deeper into his pain.

And now, here they were. The worst of it had passed, but the cracks were still there. Sometimes she worried that they would never be the same, that the shadow of those dark days would always linger between them.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said suddenly, his voice soft.

She blinked, turning to him. “For what?”

“For everything. For the way I pulled away from you when I was... going through all that. I didn’t mean to. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it.”

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “You don’t have to apologize, Charlie. You were going through hell. I just... I wish I could’ve done more. I wish I could’ve stopped you from hurting.”

He gave her a small, sad smile. “You did more than you think. You stayed. That was enough.”

The bus slowed as they approached the school, and she glanced out the window, her heart heavy. She didn’t know how to fix what was happening between them now, this quiet competition over Nick that neither of them wanted to admit. But as they sat there, side by side, she knew one thing: no matter what happened, she would stay. Just like she always had.

—

As the school day dragged on, she found herself sitting with her tray of food, absently picking at it while her thoughts remained stuck on that morning’s conversation with Charlie. Things between them had been heavy lately, a quiet tension settling in that neither of them seemed willing to break. And she couldn’t stop thinking about Nick—how both she and Charlie had been describing him on the bus without saying it out loud.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear Tara calling her name.

“Hey, earth to you!” Tara waved her hand in front of her face, snapping her back to the cafeteria. “Where were you just now?”

She smiled sheepishly, shaking her head. “Sorry, just... spaced out.”

Tara smiled warmly and sat down next to her. “No worries. Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” She paused, her voice lowering slightly. “Harry’s throwing a big party for his birthday this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d want to come as my plus one? I mean, I know you’re not super close with him, but it’ll be fun. You should come!”

Her heart skipped a beat. A party? With Harry’s crowd? The same crowd that included Nick... and Charlie. She opened her mouth to respond, but then something clicked.

“Wait... Nick’s going, isn’t he?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone’s going. Oh!” Tara’s eyes widened slightly, as if she’d just remembered something. “Nick’s actually bringing Charlie. They’re kind of a thing now, right? I saw them together the other day, and it seemed pretty obvious.”

Her stomach dropped. Nick was bringing Charlie. The words hit her like a punch, though Tara said them so casually, like it was common knowledge, like it didn’t change everything.

She forced a smile, but it felt like it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, they’re... they’re close.”

Tara gave her a knowing look, clearly unaware of the internal turmoil she was now drowning in. “You should still come! We’ll have fun, and it’ll be a good distraction. You know how Harry’s parties are.”

She nodded, though her mind was somewhere else entirely. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Nick had invited Charlie. He hadn’t even thought to ask her. Maybe she wasn’t even on his radar.

“I’ll think about it,” she replied, her voice hollow.

Tara smiled brightly and gave her a quick hug before rushing off to meet Darcy, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The truth settled in, sinking like a stone in her chest. Nick had chosen Charlie. Maybe he didn’t know about her feelings, maybe it wasn’t personal, but it still hurt like hell.

—

Later that evening, the familiar clatter of dishes filled the kitchen as the family sat down for dinner. The scent of roast chicken and vegetables wafted through the air, but she wasn’t really paying attention to the food in front of her. Her mind was still caught in an endless loop of Tara’s words—Nick’s bringing Charlie.

Across the table, Charlie sat quietly, poking at his plate. He didn’t seem his usual self either. They hadn’t spoken much since the bus ride earlier that morning, and now, with their parents chatting away and Ollie rambling on about something from school, the silence between them felt even heavier.

“Charlie, sweetie, are you okay?” their mom asked, looking at him with concern as she passed the salad bowl. “You’ve hardly touched your dinner.”

Charlie glanced up quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... not super hungry.”

Tori, sitting at the far end of the table, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She had always been the quiet observer, noticing things without saying much. Her sharp eyes flicked between the twins, clearly sensing the tension, though she remained silent.

Ollie, oblivious as ever, was in the middle of a story about his day at school, his small hands gesturing wildly as he talked. “And then we played soccer at lunch, and I almost scored, but Jamie tripped me! He said it was an accident, but I don’t believe him.”

Their dad chuckled. “Well, maybe next time you’ll get him back, huh? Just don’t let it ruin your day.”

Ollie beamed and kept going, but she was barely listening. She kept sneaking glances at Charlie, wondering if he knew—if he had any idea about how she felt, how much this hurt. She wondered if he was hurting, too, or if he was just excited to be going to Harry’s party with Nick. Maybe it was easier for him, now that Nick had chosen him.

The thought twisted painfully in her chest. She couldn’t be angry with Charlie, not really. He didn’t know how she felt. They hadn’t spoken about Nick, not directly. But the competition between them was there, unspoken but impossible to ignore. It felt like they were both tiptoeing around the same fragile thing, hoping it wouldn’t shatter.

Their mom’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You’ve been quiet too,” she said, her gaze now on her. “Everything okay with you?”

She nodded quickly, plastering on a smile that felt just as fake as Charlie’s. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Tori finally spoke up, her voice calm and measured as she glanced between the two of them. “You both seem tired. Anything happen at school today?”

She felt Charlie stiffen next to her, and for a moment, they both shared a glance. A silent understanding passed between them—neither of them wanted to talk about it. Not here. Not now.

“Nah, same old stuff,” Charlie muttered, quickly turning back to his plate.

She gave a slight shrug, echoing his sentiment. “Yeah, nothing new.”

Their mom didn’t push, though the concerned furrow in her brow remained. Instead, she turned her attention back to Ollie, who was still enthusiastically recounting his day.

For a few minutes, the table was filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and Ollie’s animated voice, but she couldn’t shake the heaviness in the pit of her stomach. She kept thinking about the party. What would it be like seeing Charlie and Nick there together, knowing that Nick had chosen him, even if unintentionally? She wondered if Charlie would be as uncomfortable as she would, or if this was just her own heartbreak to deal with.

As dinner wound down, their dad started talking about work, and she caught Tori’s eyes flicking back toward her and Charlie again. It was like Tori could sense everything. She always had been the most perceptive out of all of them.

After a few more minutes of quiet, she pushed her plate away, her appetite long gone. “I think I’m gonna go upstairs,” she said, trying to sound casual as she stood up.

Charlie looked up at her, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded, and a moment later, he stood up too.

“We’ll help clear the table,” he added, his voice sounding distant. Their parents didn’t argue, though their mom gave them both a lingering look of concern.

Together, they grabbed the dishes in silence, moving around the table as the rest of the family continued chatting. It wasn’t until they were alone in the kitchen, with the sound of running water and the clink of plates being loaded into the dishwasher, that the tension finally bubbled to the surface.

“I heard Nick’s bringing you to Harry’s party,” she said, her voice quieter than she’d intended.

Charlie froze for a second, his hand hovering over a plate before he continued loading it. He didn’t look at her when he replied. “Yeah. He... asked me earlier this week. I didn’t know you were going.”

She swallowed hard. “I wasn’t going to, but Tara invited me. As her plus one.”

There was a long pause, the only sound being the gentle slosh of water as Charlie rinsed off the dishes. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you... okay with that?”

She didn’t know how to answer that. Was she okay? Not really. But could she tell him that? Could she tell him how much it hurt, how every day it felt like they were both silently fighting for Nick’s attention, even though neither of them would admit it?

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I feel right now.”

Charlie finally looked at her, and in his eyes, she saw the same pain, the same confusion she was feeling. Maybe he wasn’t as okay as she thought. Maybe this was hurting him too.

But neither of them said anything more. Because deep down, they both knew that whatever was happening between them—this quiet, unspoken rivalry over Nick—it wasn’t something that could be fixed with words. Not yet.

—

Diary entry 4.

Dear Charlie,

I don’t even know where to begin. Tonight was supposed to be a normal dinner, but it felt anything but. There’s a heaviness hanging in the air, and I can’t shake this feeling that we’re on the brink of something bad.

When you talked about wanting someone who makes you feel good, I felt like I was drowning. I wanted to scream out that I want you to be happy too, but it’s so much more complicated than that. I felt this gut-wrenching pain in my chest because I can’t stop thinking about Nick. It’s like he’s become this unwitting wedge between us, and I hate it.

You don’t know this, but every time I see you together, it feels like I’m losing you little by little. I wish I could be happy for you, but the truth is I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll choose him over me, that you’ll forget about our bond, our connection. I keep pretending that everything is fine, that I’m okay with you being with him, but inside, it’s like a storm is raging.

It’s not just jealousy; it’s a fear of losing the one person I’ve always relied on. You’ve fought through so much with Ben, and I’ve watched you struggle to find happiness again. I thought I was being supportive, but it’s becoming harder to pretend I’m not hurt. Watching you with Nick feels like watching someone take away the last piece of my heart.

The party is coming up, and I can’t stop thinking about how hard it’s going to be. I’ll have to stand there and smile while you two flirt and laugh, pretending I’m not dying inside. I hate this feeling, and I hate that I’m turning something that should be joyful into a source of pain.

I wish we could talk about this openly, but I don’t want to add to your burdens. You’ve been through so much already, and I don’t want to make things worse. But the longer I hold this in, the more it eats away at me. I’m terrified of what’s happening between us, and I don’t know how to fix it.

I hope you can feel that I’m still here for you, even if it’s getting harder to breathe under the weight of all this. I want to be the supportive sister you deserve, but I’m not sure how to reconcile my feelings with my love for you.

Please, let’s find a way to talk about this soon. I need you to know I love you, no matter how messy things get. I just hope we can find a way back to each other before it’s too late.

Yours always,

[Your Name]

[sayinlaknight-yeah]

Now for bucks post since SOME OF YALL are so god damn up in arms over my post about saying Eddie needs therapy.

I never said Buck didn't also need therapy.

Because Buck ALSO DOES need to work on his own issues and shit as well but I figured we all had enough common sense to realize that?? I guess not??

The man CLEARLY has anxious attachment/abandomment issues stemming from his childhood trauma of being neglected which is why he jumps head first into every relationship that comes into his life and why he is so reckless when working on calls.

He is afraid to lose everyone because everyone he cared about left him.

Maddie chose doug in the past (we don't fault her for that because abusive relationships are hard to leave)

His parents shutting him out because of their own trauma with losing their other son.

He is so attached that to the 118 because it's the first REAL thing that's given him a purpose and it shows when he gets sidelined or hurt. He spirals and doesn't know what to do with himself.

Granted he went to therapy for his sex addiction and he also went to therapy to reevaluate himself with how he hides his feelings from everyone.

But he still needs to self reflect and work on himself (relationship wise) now I'm not a Buck/Tommy shipper not just because I don't like Tommy (I truly don't but that's besides the point.)

But for the simple fact he's yet again jumping headfirst into another relationship especially with a guy he really knows nothing about and that said/did things to his now brother-in-law AND Hen??? Like??

Buck needs to step back and evaluate himself before getting into a serious relationship. Because I can guarantee you him and Tommy are gonna crash and burn just like every single previous relationship he's had.

I never said both of them DIDNT need therapy because they both DO. Both of them. Like hello?? We can talk about one's issues without turning it around and saying "well you never said this about buck-" BECAUSE IT WAS AN EDDIE POST-

so here's bucks.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Please I’m begging for a Gauche Adlai x reader who is relatively strong but has trouble with self image and can easily get jealous they don’t mean to but sometimes it just happens (yes I’m kinda describing myself here) take your time if you wish I don’t really mind

Hiya~! I'll admit that Gauche is a bit of a puzzle still for me as a character. So this was a nice study of him. Hopefully you like it! It turned out into a kind of a love confession fic ^^'

Pairing: Gauche x gn!reader Genre: ...hurt-comfort??? There is a happy end Fanfic type: Oneshot Length: ~1.4k Contains: themes of jealousy and uncertainty, love confession, Gauche is hesitant too, doubts of being good enough, a happy end

Gauche was someone who had never preferred the prime light, and did much better while watching people from the sides. And he did observe the entire squad, simply to see what kind of people they were; what kinds of people he’d be going out on missions with. What he should know, and what was irrelevant.

That was also when he became aware of your strength. And how you didn’t seem to exactly believe in your own strength. But also how... sometimes, when he’d do something nice, courteous, dutiful, to someone else in the squad, he could see you frowning at it. Maybe sometimes make a remark of it. About how he had been helping someone else. Specifically, someone else.

Most seemed to brush off the comments. The frowns and the gazes. But he had made a note of them.

He hadn’t said anything, but he had made a note of them.

Not that you knew him to see it, and note it. Because he very much appeared to be his stoic self. Someone who minded his own business.

Up until that one day, when it seemed to boil over for him. Seemingly over nothing.

Maybe it was over nothing. Or just him having watched it all from the sidelines for too long. Him developing suspicions about why it was such a big thing to you. When he did things for others. Even if it was something as small as pick up something from a shelf and hand it down. While he knew that he wasn’t the most personable, getting a noticeable reaction was... it made him think.

And that was why he grabbed you by the arm after that one mission, and gave you a look.

“What are you doing?” He sounded almost accusatory, but it was just the way he spoke. It was a tone of demanding an answer.

“Going home,” you replied, somewhat confused.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He let go, and put his hands into his pockets, and tilted his head, as if to ask if you really didn’t know what he meant.

“Don’t give me that look and say what you mean,” you remarked, slightly irritated.

After all, it wasn’t like he had just offered a hand to Nero during the mission, which, yeah sure, was just helping a squad member out, but... It irritated you. Gnawed at you. While there was no real for you to be jealous, because you and Gauche were just squad mates too, but still! Did he have to? And then act all like he didn’t know why you were being a little irritated and snappy at him.

“Why are you acting like that?” He asked.

Oh boy, it really sounded like he was fishing for something. An admission. Of a kind at least. Or maybe a confession.

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what he was after.

“You watch me, when I do things for others,” he stated. “And I know, because I see you watch me. You also tend to frown, whenever I do. Unless, it’s to you,” he was being blunt. But it was accurate enough. “That why I...” he trailed off, leaving you guessing.

“And that’s why I...” you repeated, trying to encourage him to continue the sentence.

“I think that you like me.”

Another very blunt statement.

But... it wasn’t a wrong one.

Which was even more obvious from the way your chin lowered and eyes averted, fell to the ground next to you because... does anyone really watch the person saying such a thing into the eye. At least all the time. Throughout the expression that might be given. The seconds that would tick.

Does anyone really watch the person who says that they think you might fancy them?

“That’s something I don’t get about you,” he said with a slight frown; furrowed brows.

Your eyes stayed down, and you could feel a lump rising to your throat. Because the way he had worded it, sounded a lot like rejection. Something you say before telling that you’re not interested.

“You’re tough. You’re strong and you can get through a lot and-,” he hesitated.

When you lifted your gaze to look at him, you saw that his eyes were down in turn, and he was biting down his molars. Almost like it pained him. Like something... something was hurting him.

“So why?”

He sounded out of breath. Almost as if he was... struggling.

“Why can’t you-, tell me? Am I not worth it? Being told?”

What...? You found yourself thinking.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you not act during a mission, so why...? Am I just not... You see me, and think that I’m not worth acting on those emotions?”

...

So that was it.

He had been waiting. Because he didn’t think himself worthy of taking the first step. Because he didn’t think that anyone might like him. Not that he had, for many years in his life, longed for it. Hoped for it.

He had had other things on his mind. More pressing things. But now... now that it was right in front of him, he had dared to hope that someone might like him for him.

Only that it seemed like he wasn’t, in his mind, worth of being approached; nothing but a passing fling.

“So you... you... like me... too?” You managed to ask through the haze and the wonder and the turmoil of thoughts bouncing through your mind.

There was a pause.

It must’ve lasted only for a few seconds, but it felt much longer.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asked, turning his head further away.

“No,” you whispered, and inhaled. You must’ve been holding your breath.

He took a few steps where he stood. Just a couple. As if he needed to move, or couldn’t stay still. And rubbed the back of his neck. Stood there and stared into the distance with his side turned to you.

“Well, I do, so...”

His side was still turned to you, as you tried, tried, to process his words. The fact that he hadn’t only been watching you feel all the things you did, though not always very pretty emotions, because jealousy wasn’t such by any means, but he still, still did like you and saw that emotion of yours as nothing more than an indicator of you liking him. But you still didn’t walk up to him, or making it clear to him that you did like him, so that maybe the two of you would make something out of it. Rather you stayed in the side lines, feeling all the things you did within yourself. It was just the small indicators here and there that spilled out. So... so...

You took a few steps closer to him, and placed your hand onto his shoulder.

“I... like you,” you spoke with a hushed tone. “Too,” you added.

His head was the first to turn towards you. His body followed as he again took steps in his place, only that this time he turned towards you.

“..So...?” You continued, eyes flickering down and to him. “Do you-, even though I’m-, kinda the jealous type, you wouldn’t mind... dating someone like that?” You hesitated, because you were very aware of your unpleasant trait. Even if it was only human.

He turned his head again, and chuckled under his breath as the corners of his mouth were tugged up.

“You know I’m an ex con, right?”

“Well yeah-“

“And you’re asking if I mind a little bit of jealousy?”

“Well... yeah...” you looked away, realizing how silly in comparison it sounded.

“Look I... get jealous too. Sometimes.” The last words was spoke under his breath. As if a secret.

“So... we’re like two peas in a pod?” You gave him a look, delivered with a careful smile.

“Yeah, I guess we are...” he smiled, just a little but he did.

And in that smile, there was hope. A whisper of happiness. An inkling feeling of things to come.

But most of all, there was a hint of something that wished, wished oh so much that it could blossom into an emotion as grand, as love. And perhaps, it would be allowed to.

[mushrooms-and-manga]

BONUS BACKTRACK! KABRU SPOTLIGHT

I feel like I've been misreading this guy and I clearly missed some major backstory reveal so I'm going back to the Harpy chapter to laser focus on Him specifically in one long-ass post.

See, because immediately he's registering as way more compassionate than before. Empathy especially-

He knows why Marcille chose what she did, and why Toshiro reacted that way, and why Laios telling Toshiro was the worst possible combination of people for this. He's already gotten ac omplete read on everyone in the room, even the ones he's barely known for 20 minutes.

But he's not going to see any humanity in Falin while she's trying to kill them... He knows how much they save her but he doesn't actually have any stake in that game. Just keeping his people alive, and calling for Touden party to Get Their Shit Together.

I want to pass it off as him trying to analyze the situation or something, but I still can't help but be offput by his decision to wait until every single one of his party members is downed before actually doing anything himself... He says "how many more people have to be sacrificed," but here and now he's still more than willing to let all of his men get hurt or killed while he's watching from the sidelines giving orders.

I guess Lynn didn't actually get hurt here, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Once he does step in though, he's still hitting every vital organ with surgical precession. He has a lot of experience with killing, and I have to imagine a lot of it is outside of the dungeon. Much more permanent.

apparently i've already hit the image limit so we'reee gonna do a part two of this?

[audiblehush]

I know this isn’t really relevant to the recent promo we’ve gotten (which I’m still swooning over, for the record), but I’ve been thinking about how some people in this fandom have been fussing over Pen having a potential suitor (or suitorS, we don’t really know) this season, and I don’t understand their complaints, I guess?

… like, I’m pretty sure that it’s meant to MIRROR Season 1.

(…see what I did there? ;)

There are multiple ways in which Colin and Penelope’s stories / situations have mirrored the other. They are not perfect mirrors (that would be dull), but they ARE similar and I truly believe that it’s intentional to reinforce both Polin’s compatibility and ultimately their empathy for the other.

A few examples:

—

Colin: is viewed as the “one-dimensional” easy-going, un-serious, charming brother who never rocks the boat; never gets angry.

Pen: is viewed as a shy, quiet, harmless wallflower who never steps out of line and is kind of a doormat.

—

As a result of the above perceptions:

Colin: is desperate for something to fill his time and energy the way his brothers have something, SO he impulsively courts and proposes marriage to a girl he barely knows to feel needed and wanted in a way that makes him feel mature; and he gets the validation he seeks from Marina, as it suits her needs (I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, she genuinely needed him to be desperate for validation to get a quick marriage). A heady feeling, someone relying on you and telling you that you are desperately needed…

Penelope: is desperate to feel a part of the ton in any way she can, because her and her family are tolerated at best, and heavily criticized at worst. So rather than suffering through the season, crushed, and always on the sidelines against her will, after choosing to start LW —perhaps on a whim, perhaps it was discovered and encouraged by chance like in the books— she “chooses” to hug the wall and not be noticed… (not at all a coping mechanism and a fear of rejection, amirite??) …and she eventually gets the acceptance and validation she seeks by having the ton hang off her every word as LW…. Again, a heady thing for a lonely 17-18 year old who wants to be heard and who craves acceptance, however she can get it.

—

Penelope: has to watch the man she’s in love with, one of the few people who listens to her and who she shows aspects of her true, (sometimes cutting self) with, court and eventually propose to a girl she knows is actively manipulating him.

She then (quickly, imperfectly and messily) interferes to spare Colin from the plot… without his input (after a failed first attempt to appeal to him, in her defense… and then the time limit became a problem).

Colin: quickly and imperfectly interferes in Jack’s ruby scheme in order to fix his own rashness, but also to spare the Featherington family… (without their input, it must be noted, even though he says he does it for them).

…And now in season 3, Colin will need to watch as Pen attempts to attract suitors, possibly while he watches with feelings of jealously if she has some success (Edit: Though I doubt it will get all the way to an engagement; too redundant)

(And this is nothing but speculation, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if Colin either discovers something about one of the suitors, or about another plot entirely and is forced to make a difficult decision regarding it, that impacts Penelope).

—

Penelope: writes things that can have a negative impact on or hurt people, sometimes for her own own comfort (LW), even if it’s not intentional.

Colin: says and does things that hurt others or that are misleading / obliviously harmful, sometimes for his own comfort (avoiding the needling of those men at the end of S2), even if it’s not intentional.

—

Penelope: has self esteem that has been in the TRASH since the beginning of the series - this poor girl hates herself, and has had it reinforced often (and likely from a young age) that her thoughts and opinions aren’t worth hearing, and that she is never enough (and is one of a few reasons why I find the “she wanted Colin for herself!” takes about the end of S1 pretty laughable)… so she hides behind LW. Colin is one of the only people she’s hinted to that she can be biting (Eloise gets glimpses of it), and I think the ONLY one she has hinted at that she has “grand dreams”

Colin: ALSO has self esteem that is pretty low, desperately seeking something that he thinks will make him feel whole and complete, the forgotten middle child (same, bro…), and he masks this uncertainty by flaunting a fake confidence and hiding behind his hobbies and being what everyone wants him to be… also he he can keep people from looking deeper… while simultaneously desperate to be seen by those around him. Pen is the only person he’s really hinted at that he’s unhappy when they discuss purpose.

—

EDIT: How could I forget?! BOTH are the third children in their family. Colin is the forgotten middle child, and Pen is the youngest, but both are criticized by their acting heads of their household (Anthony for Colin, Portia for Penelope), and criticized by their siblings. Penelope’s sisters brutally mock her often: her weight, her skin, her letter-writing, etc. Colin’s siblings clearly mean to just tease him, but it’s obvious how much their lack of interest in him as a person hurts him and makes him feel invisible and unwanted (my poor boy 🥺…)

—

Mirrors, mirrors, and more mirrors. Sometimes they are funhouse mirrors, the situations aren’t ever exact, there are nuances and specific context to each, but imo the similarities are very intentional.

The show is going out of its way to put these characters on more equal footing, and to have each of them make blunders in their lives and in the lives of others, knocked off their respective pedestals, to set them up to be like “wow, I get it, I get YOU and I choose YOU, with all the highs and all the lows” … and I LOVE it!! 🥹

People in this fandom tend to relate to either Penelope, Colin, (or sometimes both), and that’s awesome… but that doesn’t mean they don’t each have flaws. It also doesn’t have to become a “who hurt who more, who is more right?” - I am so uninterested in that: pain isn’t a competition.

What I AM interested and invested in is their growth, seperetly and together, and the removal of their masks to truly see and accept the other.

So yeah, y’all. It’s called a parallel, and I really hope we get loads of them in S3. 🥰

I honestly really welcome conversation and thoughts about this; I’m pretty new to the fandom, but unfortunately I have seen a lot of people (on tumblr in particular) be very “holier than thou” if they don’t agree on an interpretation, and it makes the fandom seem very unwelcoming and makes me nervous to even post things, which is pretty ridiculous. :/

Fandom gonna fandom, I guess. 🤷‍♀️ I just really love this show and this pairing and I’m dying for S3.

[jesncin]

I’d really like to hear your thoughts on MAWS characters alongside Lois, if you want to do that of that’s entirely up to you but it would be really interesting ^_^

I've written about maws a fair bit on this blog! You can find my general thoughts on the jesncin talks maws tag and my massive maws Lois essay here for my thoughts on her. Suffice to say I'm not a fan of this show, lol. I haven't been able to stomach watching season 2 so my entire knowledge is limited to season 1. With that said, roundup of my thoughts on maws characters:

Clark Kent: boring. Vanilla. Critical lack of hero motivation and idealism outside of "people are getting hurt!" as a platitude. Just some guy who does chores because that's the nice thing to do. Not defeating the Superman Is Boring allegations- just has an uwu cute cinnamon roll himbo filter on it.

Lois Lane: xenophobic asian lois lane is the worst crime ever committed to me. A historically jaded, award winning, accomplished career woman fighting against work place misogyny is now a cutesty uwu girl-failure who needs the help of two men to get hired. Barf.

Jimmy Olsen: I get the attempt at making him a conspiracy theorist as a means of tapping into Jimmy's wacky silver age antics and to bounce off of Clark for shenanigans, but it doesn't meaningfully interrogate how that is at odds with his job as a journalist. Also he was sidelined hard in S1- more than he was in CW Supergirl.

Perry White: I was hoping that unlike STAS and if MAWS was going to pull from anime, that this meant strong relationships with Superman's cast system. But nope. Perry is just a running gag. I was hoping for a Snapper and Kara dynamic like in CW Supergirl.

Scoop troop (Cat Grant, Ronnie Troupe, Steve Lombard): Superfluous characters, easily delete-able. All of which have been reinterpreted as anime stereotypes. Yawn.

Newskid Legion: Also delete-able and a waste of my time. They should be called newsies. They make no sense as outdated characters placed in a futuristic setting. What is child labor doing this late in the game. Be more creative with modernizing outdated characters.

Pa and Ma Kent: Boring. The biggest problem you can have with the Kents is making them generic supportive parents like they're sentient Hallmark cards. Pa Kent got the bad end of the stick as the clueless parent, while Ma Kent was pushed as the heart of the family to Clark. Not that she did much.

Vicki Vale: Absolutely insane of this show to add another Asian xenophobe woman journalist. The MAWS crew love gloating about how they're not going to include Batman in MAWS, but they can't resist putting a Gothamite in their show and stealing rogues from other heroes. Could've brought Angela Chen (a canonically asian Metropolis reporter) from STAS but I guess she's not as big a name as a Gotham character, eh?

Livewire: the glowdown of a century. DCSHG continues to outperform every modern version of this character. Why make her a generic smuggler when her original job as a shock jokey is far more interesting?? Podcaster or influencer was right there. Her motives make no sense too.

Intergang crew: Why. Did they consolidate. Banshee with two random rogues (Mist & Roughouse) and call them Intergang. That's so many glowdowns at once. I've never seen someone look at a hero's diverse rogues gallery and say "let's consolidate all these characters so we have less material to work with in the future". I hate how the rogues are all tech based, and share the same origin. These baddies kickstarted the show's "villains with petty crime motivations": no ideological or thematic draw to them.

Ivo/Parasite: Another villain with nonsensical motivations. His business is going bankrupt so he sets up an investor event party to show off his Black Panther Lexo suit (which was apparently a response to Superman! A stranger that we can't trust! And somehow these expensive suits are more trustworthy) only to attack his investors and get owned by Superman. Then he just has a hateful vendetta against Superman. People who think this is a good Parasite interpretation because they projected vague Elon Musk are kidding themselves. I could clown on MAWS' Ivo all day. He is so badly written.

Heatwave: Why genderbend a Flash villain when Superman already has a Fire Woman in his rogues gallery? Volcana? Remember her? She's from the same show yall got Livewire from? Praise this show all you want for "reigniting interest in Superman", it's clear they're willing to toss away actual Superman cast characters for more popular characters from other heroes when it suits them. What's Heatwave's motivations? Petty crime.

Slade Wilson/Deathstroke: Imagine building this character up to be a big threat only to do nothing with him lol. I can't take him seriously, his voice acting is the worst and I hate his design. This show is so desperate to make attractive villains for fangirls it's frankly pathetic. How did people even mistaken him for Superman? He doesn't FLY.

Mallah and The Brain: This is what happens when you revive gay villains and put them through the HarlIvy Respectability Beam on fast forward. The gay villains aren't villains anymore! Because that would be bad representation! They're now cute cuddly domestic dads who want to raise robot children and run away together!! How TRITE. Mallah has "american faking a french accent" syndrome but bad voice acting is the norm in this show.

Mxy: The one time they include a villain that Lois and Jimmy could easily help Superman defeat (Mxy's whole deal is that you can send him to his dimension by tricking him to spell or say his name backwards) they opt to make it even dumber by just "removing his hat". Because the MAWS crew aren't smart enough to think of ways Superman and his pals can trick Mxy. For the record, CW Supergirl got this right in comparison.

Legion of Loises: It's the way this show can't write competent women even when that's the goal. All the characters act so stupid and that includes the Legion of Loises. At least MAWS!Lois learns the important lesson that even though she's not as accomplished as these career focused versions of her, at least she can keep her man. Misogyny in a cute package.

Alex/Lex Luthor: Go away. Ugly design I can't stand him. Miserable voice acting as usual.

Amanda Waller: She's pretty generic here. Playing second fiddle to Sam Lane for the most part, but this show has a problem with fleshing out Black characters in general so.

Sam Lane: We now have up to THREE asian xenophobes in MAWS season 1. The crew did not think their diversity through because at the end of the day S1 was really about a White Guy Alien getting oppressed by mostly people of color. Without a hint of irony.

Jor-El: I thought the language barrier between him and Clark was an inspired choice and clever as a means of postponing Clark learning about his heritage. But nope. Jor-El just starts magically talking in English later on. Otherwise boring and generic!

Brainy: I know he's prominent in S2 so I can't speak much for his character from the small impression I got of him in S1, but I can say that he looks mad ugly <3 truly horrible rogues designs in this show.

PHEW!! That's my roundup of MAWS character opinions! Wild how I can't even pinpoint a character I like on this show, lol. I know Kara's in S2 as well, and what I've seen of her sounds awful. Her design is bad too. I'm just not ready for the heartbreak of meeting that version of her because I love Supergirl so much :((