#but what if i just get burnt out. what then.

[shrimpybbq]

season 1 rafe with his gf & son

i have to be sooo truthful here in that rafe is like 90% the actual worst during the events of season 1 to high school gf!

he's still doing drugs and going to parties, never coming home until the early morning if at all

maybe he was on better terms with his gf for a while, but everyone on the island knows that the pair are always on-and-off

when they are good, rafe is surprisingly sweet to her. he's always opening doors and looking after their son so she can rest. rafe is so much more physically affectionate too during these times, with his hands always on her, stroking her hip or playing with her hair

and then when they fight, it's like all that goes away and he's back to ignoring her

she lives in the main house now as that's where their son's nursery is, but most of the time she's sleeping in the guest room after they argue

rafe's idea of family bonding is going to the country club, drinking his expensive whiskey and eating overpriced food. he likes seeing his son look around wide-eyed at the new sights and new people, and he enjoys having his son sit in his lap while he drinks, mumbling nonsense to see his little smile

he tries to take his son out golfing once only to realise that he couldn't be away from his mother for so long, much to his annoyance. it's fine though bc he's insisting they all go together next time - problem solved in his mind

rafe and high school gf! go to midsummer's together as each others dates. rafe wouldn't have let her go with anyone else anyway, but he likes the display of having her on his arm. he matches his suit to the floral design of her gown to make the statement even clearer (they have a child together and he's worried about people knowing she's his???)

he manages to hide a lot of the events that go on from his gf, but some of them still reach her ears courtesy of sarah, and he can't stand the disappointed look she gives him. sometimes though, he makes her sit down and listen to his explanation, trying to get her to see his side. he's so relieved when she nods and no longer looks at him in that way (but she still doesn't tell him he was right, he always notes)

when barry burns rafe, he's knocking on the door of the guest room with tears in his eyes, clutching his badly burnt arm to his chest. gf just looks at him wide-eyed, telling him to sit on her bed while she grabs the first aid kit. rafe can't help but let the tears stream down his face as she cleans, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he sobs. that night is the first time he sleeps with her in the guest room, his head nuzzled into her chest as she cradles him

ok but if barry ever threatens his girl and kid rafe won't let it go. he's landing a punch on the drug dealer's face immediately, his rage spiking instantaneously. barry learns not to threaten them again after the second time he wore purple bruises on his chin

oh, sweet pretty gf has no idea what rafe has done to the sheriff, and he plans to keep it that way. he wanted to protect his dad, but he absolutely refuses to let anything happen to his own family. she's so shocked when he tells her of john b's actions, the boy having lived down the hall from them, and rafe plays into the role of protector again. he's got her in his arms as she cries about how he was around their son, and rafe just hums and tells her "i would never let someone hurt either of you, you know that right?". it warms his heart to see her nod into his chest.

sometimes his gf walks into the nursery only to see her son not in his crib, but she knows exactly where he is. pushing open rafe's door she sees the two of them in bed, her sweet baby cuddled up on rafe's bare chest as they both sleep. he needs to be with his son when he has a bad day, which seems to be more often than not nowadays

rafe is rapidly growing more mentally unwell and the only thing that seems to soothe him is his gf and son, and he spends as much time as he can with them. the little baby is always in his arms as he coos down at him, watching his kid's eyes brighten at the sight of his dada. rafe reasons with himself that everything he does is to protect his family and that he couldn't be wrong then, could he?

Oh this was a bit of a novel, but rafe truly has so many facets to explore, let alone once you give him a big motivator like a kid!

*i think i'm going to expand on high school gf! looking after rafe and his burn bc its such a vulnerable moment for him

[yunniestars]

"maybe this time, love won't end."

. . . ACT IV. "Oh No, I'm Falling In Love." ʚɞ pairing: kinich x gn!reader ʚɞ cw: kind of short sorry, mostly fluff hehe, reader is shit at cooking

"sorry..." you dry his hair off using a towel as you apologize. "to be fair, it started to rain heavily, too. so it would've saved you from being sick."

"it's fine," kinich responds as he mesmerize over how your hands knead his hair with tender. "i would've said yes either way. but you really didn't had to headlock me like that," he frowns which erupts a giggle from you.

"i literally never seen you make that face. i should do it more often." he scoffs at your suggestion.

even with such childish banter, kinich feels so much warmth from what was happening at the moment. the loud and thunderous rain contrasted the comforting laughter from the both of you. it reminded him of how you'd tend to his wounds when he came home from a commission that made him end up in a bunch of bruises.

this very moment felt like one of them, however he knew it wasn't the same.

the love and affection he felt, though, remained.

suddenly, he felt something caress his hair. and it wasn't a towel.

"hmm?" kinich feels your hand on top of his hair, which surprised him. "what are you doing?"

"feeling your hair. it's so soft," you tell him as you bask into the softness of the strands. "seriously, how do you have better hair than me? it's so annoying," you sounded a pout which made him chuckle.

"maybe it's because you're the one taking care of it."

୨୧

time ticks down and before the both of you knew it, the hour of supper had arrived.

kinich would expect that it would've been domestic, cozy and full of laughter. he thought that it'd be a simple moment of peace with shared fondness.

boy he was so wrong. because apparently alongside your memories, your amnesia also caused you to forget your ability how to cook -- or more like, you have no idea how to measure things and the portions you pour in the dish ends up altering the taste completely.

"oh my archons- i said SALT."

"THAT'S SALT YOU DUM-DUM."

"look at the label closely, and it says 'sugar'."

"oh."

it was rare for kinich to get verbally upset, but this very moment had him wanting to throw punches at you and toss you from the very top of tectipac peak. he tries his very best to not show his frustration and be patient but oh goodness gracious of all archons you were stubborn.

"kinich! how much soup do i pour in?" you ask but even though you did, your hand had a mind of its own and poured a lot of soup on the bowl which could only take half of the amount you poured on, which ultimately led you to dropping the bowl and a loud yelp from you.

kinich immediately stopped what he was doing and immediately ran up to you, caressing your burnt hand while bringing you to a place away from the shards of glass.

"are you okay? how bad does it hurt?" he asks while checking for any bruises.

"a little..." you responded while feeling a bit faint from the altercation that just happened. kinich sighed and carried you to your couch, gently laying you on top of there.

"stay," he instructs while he goes off to grab your first-aid kit. you were confused on how he already knew where it was placed, but perhaps it's due to the amount of times he crashed in your place.

besides everything, though, you felt your heart thump at how he'd take such good care of you. even though you were stupid to pour an unreasonable amount of soup in the cup, he never insulted you and just immediately came to your aid. it felt nice, considering how you'd always get called out for being clumsy when you still lived with your family.

it wasn't just that, though. the way he'd gently hold you felt like you just fit right in his arms. is it platonic to say that being your friend's arms felt like home? because that's exactly how you felt.

you were used to how boyfriend-material kinich would be but goddamn it still made your heart skip a beat each time.

then again, he said it's how he treated his friends in general, so did you really have any right to feel like that?

after a time of thinking, he soon comes back with the first-aid kit in his hands and kneels in front of you, grabbing that injured hand onto his immediately to treat it.

"so reckless... you just do whatever you want, huh?" he huffs while applying ointment on your burn.

"i'm sorry," you apologize, feeling a lot of guilt while refusing to look at him.

"for?"

"for being clumsy and... not being a good host."

"host?" kinich raises a brow and remembers the main reason how he winded up in your abode. "ah, you don't need to apologize for any of that." "but-"

"but what? no matter the amount of apologizes you utter to me, you'll still do the same thing ever again, and i would be a fool to repeatedly tell you that it's 'okay'," he chuckles lightly and touches your bandaged hand. "i treasure you a lot, so i'm willing to put up with your antics."

ah fuck.

you feel yourself burning up at your words, while also feeling tears well up in your eyes. "i mean that much to you?"

"of course."

you smile and look at him with a gaze you'd only ever show to him. "well, i feel the same."

୨୧

a few hours after eating and cleaning up, the rain hasn't still gone away which led up to the reason why he's staying at your home overnight for the time-being.

"i'm going to sleep at the couch," kinich says, about to tell you good night until you beat him to it.

"no, you're sleeping in my bed," you refute. "you're the guest, i should be the one sleeping on the couch."

kinich sighs and crosses his arms. "well, looks like this is another argument i can't wait, so how about this -- we share a bed."

the idea made you blush. even though kinich looked nonchalant on the surface, deep down he was pulling his own hair for saying such crass things. now he felt kind of like some creep for saying it.

"sorry, i shouldn't have said anything," he apologizes, wanting to break the awkward tension. but you just shake your head and drag him on your bed.

"it's fine. we can share," you fiddle your hands together.

oh. well... that definitely surprised him.

"what? are you sure? i just suggested it because i didn't want you to sleep on the couch and i know you're going to force me to sleep on your bed so..." he trails off and you just put your index finger on his lip, which immediately shuts him up.

"if i say we can share, then we can. okay?" you huff and place your finger back down, leaving him to no choice (even though he really liked the idea). "

and so, you two end up sharing the same comforter. surprisingly, kinich ended up falling asleep real fast. after all, you did notice how exhausted he looked even before the two of you got soaked by the cold rain.

you smile and stop any urges to go and caress his face. you notice his long lashes, the marking on his neck, and of course your favorite part of him, how soft his hair looked. even while sleeping, he looked so undoubtedly beautiful that you'd think about what it'd be like if you kissed him- woah there.

kisses?

beautiful?

you notice how you used such words towards him, ones that only couples would ever refer to each other. but can you blame yourself? he was so full of love, giving you attention when you barely ask for it, doing things that you'd only let him do to you.

the more you think of it, more the realization finally dawns upon you...

you were in love.

୨୧ act iii | act v ୨୧ masterlist

♡ tags: @lvvcian @sunsethw4 @wutap @gasoline-eater @ellieloverrr @romyoia @lunavixia @hipsdofangirl @3lectraheart @keiiqq @fantasyhopperhea @idontevenknow129 @kimura-uzuri

a/n: finally!! ive been wanting to finish this chapter ive had the idea since act 3 but i am so sorry for not updating a lot as of late!! :( ive been preparing for lots and lots of projects + exams r coming up. not sure if i can keep on updating consistently, but most likely when exams end and also during our club week hehe. thank u so much for being patient :')

[cherrycolored-punk]

NHTK - Chapter Two

Masterlist

pairing: brother's best friend! Eddie Munson x fem! Reader, reader is Reefer Rick’s little sister.

w/c: 6.2k

author's note: this is a repost from my previous blog @strangemagicc but somewhat re-written, some of their story has changed. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please reblog if you did, support is always appreciated!

warnings: angst, mention of cheating (technically not reader), mention of anxiety and a past car accident, brief mention of money issues for reader

Then:

“Fucking shit!” 

Eddie can hear the worry in your voice as he rounds the corner. The sound of his heavy boots against the tiled floor catches your attention.

The fear is vibrant in your eyes when you turn to him, a quiet cry for help and he can’t help but chuckle at the scene. At the state of your brows pushed together, face twisted in horror.

He looks over your shoulder, noticing that the popcorn is overfilled and smoke is billowing from behind the glass doors of the machine. Charred pieces of popcorn fall into the vat; the burnt smell wafts around you and fills the air.

“Way to go, Little Lipton,” he laughs and moves around you to turn off the machine.

“Shut up,” but the words come out like a whine.

You’re already annoyed that he caught you creating a mess and even more peeved that he’s looking at you with that cocky smirk of his.

“Alright,” he sighs heavily, “this one is going to be out of commission for a bit, so we’ll need to make sure that one is always prepped with fresh kernels,” he tilts his chin to the only other popcorn machine and leans against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Out of commission?” Your voice raises an octave, face twisting in horror as his words make alarms blare in your skull.

“Yeah,” he chuckles as though his next words are obvious.

“We have to clean this one before we use it, or all the other batches are going to taste like shit, and that’s not the easiest or fastest task.”

“He’s going to kill me,” you groan and drop your head back.

He being your manager and a major pain in your ass since the day you started working here. Mark wanted things a certain way; candies lined in a specific direction, cups displayed for the customers to see, popcorn made to perfection and not burnt until it turned to dust.

“Probably not kill, just maim,” Eddie shrugs with a crooked grin, a glint of amusement in his chestnut eyes as he stares down at you.

“You never told me what to do if I burnt the kernels,” you abruptly look up at him and swat at his arm. 

His smile grows wider at your display.

“That’s because I told you not to overfill the kettle and never thought you’d ignore that tidbit,” he sighs dramatically, “guess that’s what I get for thinking.”

Reflexively he moves out of arm’s reach before you can do any serious damage.

Eddie enjoys the way your lower lip juts out, how your forehead creases between your eyebrows when you are mad, and fuck, were you pissed.

It had been nearly two weeks since you started working at Hawk Theater, trying to save up for the new camcorder you’d been eying, and Eddie had been assigned to train you.

Or his form of training, which was a lot of “this is how they want us to do it, but this is what works.”

The problem was that you’d been distracted.

It was the way his smile lifted to the side and the way he tied his long curls into a messy ponytail. How he’d look at you when you caught onto something quick or the reassurance he’d quickly give when you didn’t. And sometimes, the sun would shine through the windows and hit his eyes just right, making them look like molten honey.

You couldn’t help the nervous flutters that sprung to life when he was near, your childhood crush resurfacing with teeth and taking hold of you.

It made it hard to listen and remember the instructions he told you, like not to fill the kernels past the very obvious line or else.

He never expounded on the or else, but negative consequences were heavily implied.

“You’re such a jerk,” you rebut, but the venom fell flat, the insult sounding endearing to Eddie’s ears.

“You already knew I was, sweetheart. Don’t know why you expected anything different now that you work with me,” he begins cleaning out the popcorn machine. Dumping the burnt kernels into the trash can before adding the cleaning solution to the kettle.

Your heart is still fluttering, replaying the single pet name over and over again.

“Guess that’s what I get for thinking,” you mimick him and begin helping him clean so the two of you would be ready for opening in thirty minutes.

Eddie watches you from the corner of his eye, the way your gaze is lit with mischief as you tease him, and he can't help but smile to himself.

“Are you two trying to set this place on fire?” Mark Huntzberger, the manager, bellows as he came down the stairs from his office. He eyes the mess you made with a stern, critical eye that shifts over the concession stand and back to you.

The air still smells of burnt kernels and puffs of smoke still swirl in the air - highlighted by the afternoon sun peeking through the windows.

You can’t help the way you shrink under his scrutiny.

“I know this may just be some summer job to you, but this is my livelihood. If you can’t get it together by the end of the week, I will make sure this one fires you.” He points a fat finger at Eddie before turning his attention to him. 

Munson’s face has gone flat, eyebrows set in a straight line. Jaw tense.

“It was an honest mistake,” Eddie interjects.

“Clean it up,” Huntzberger orders before disappearing into the ticket booth.

“Why did I think this was going to be easy or fun?” You question more to yourself than to Eddie, shoulders tense as you tie the trash bag containing the burnt kernels before pulling it from the bin.

“Because the town fuck up works here, how hard can it be?” He nudges you with a wink, wiping the inside of the soiled popcorn machine with a clean rag.

“Move over, Eddie. Someone’s about to take your place,” you giggle and walk towards the exit doors that lead to the alley behind the cinema.

Eddie drops the rag into the popcorn machine, following you outside.

The summer air is suffocating with its humidity—the sharp stench of spoiled food wafting from the dumpsters causing you to wince as you approach the dumpster.

“Don’t do that. It’s the only thing I got going for me,” his grin grows wider as he walks in step with you.

He was all self-deprecation all the time, and you begin to wonder how much of it he really believes—the thought causing a pang of sadness to twist in your gut.

You lift the bag over your head, but he stops you, taking it from your grasp and hoisting it into the metal canister.

“Y’know it’s not true, Ed’s,” you begin, brushing your hands off and looking up at him. Eyes nearly squinted closed from the intensity of the sun.

“What’s not?” He questions, leaning against a brick wall that hid the dumpsters from the rest of the alley.

You stand in front of him, toe to toe, trying to hide the way your gaze dances over his face. Tracing the freckles that line his nose and admiring the dimple pushed into his cheek as he smiles at you.

And fuck, he’s caught you staring.

“That you don’t have anything else going for you,” you clear your throat, “you have lots of talents-“

“Ah, yes, I am known for my natural ability to annoy and antagonize,” he interrupts, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” but the words sound more affectionate than irked.

“I’m being serious,” you begin again, “I mean, I don’t know many people who can learn a new song on the guitar half as fast as you. Didn’t you learn Master of Puppets in like a week?”

You shrug, doing your best to be nonchalant.

“And what about all the stuff you know about cars? Or the random tidbits about pop culture and music? You’re like an encyclopedia britannica,” you continue with a small laugh.

“For all things useless,” he corrects. 

You poke his side causing him to flinch away from your touch, swatting your hand in the process.

“I mean it!” You insist, gaze holding his. 

It’s the exact look you get when you’re excited about something, and Eddie chuckles, ears turning a shade of red from the attention you’re giving him.

“You’re just trying to flatter me so I don’t fire you,” he jokes, but you continue to look up at him with a dramatic bat of your eyes, inching closer.

“Is it working?” You retort, exaggerating the breathiness of your voice.

For a brief moment, you see his confident facade falter - his eyes darting between your eyes and the plush of your lips as he swallows hard. 

But in an instant, it returns.

“Flattery always works with me, sweetheart,” he winks and turns back to the building.

There it was again.

Your heart stops, skips, and starts again as you will your legs to move. You watch his retreating frame, eyes boring into the back of his head.

“You coming?” He doesn’t stop walking, and you take wide steps to catch up with him.

Before you walk back through the door, you grab his arm and turn him to face you. He’d successfully evaded your compliments before, but you needed him to know it wasn’t empty praise.

“I meant what I said, Eds.” 

He looks at you with a questioning perk of his eyebrow but doesn’t verbalize his confusion so you continue on.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you squeeze his arm softly so he can feel your sincerity.

When he doesn’t say anything, you release his appendage with an uncertain grin and pull open the door, the cold cinema air greeting you.

Eddie watches your retreating frame for a moment, a little taken aback, before following you to the concession stand.

The two of you fall into an easy silence as you work. 

You wipe the counters and finish cleaning the popcorn machine, carefully following Eddie’s instructions while he sets up the rope dividers in between each register, making sure things are organized just as Mark liked before the doors opened.

He looks at you every so often, and you try to hide the way his subtle attention affects you, keeping your head down and focused on counting your till. Having to recount when you catch him looking again.

But finally, you’re ready for the day; doors unlocked, and fresh edible popcorn ready for the masses. A small line of moviegoers already stood in front of the ticket booth.

The two of you rest your backs against the counter, waiting for the first customer to approach, when Eddie leans over to you, warm breath fanning your ear.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he said your name. Acknowledged you as something other than Little Lipton.

The first time Eddie saw you as more than just his best friend’s little sister.

—————

Now:

Eddie clamors into his trailer, heavy boots dragging across the worn carpet as he trudges to the kitchen and swings open the fridge, grabbing a six-pack that is nearly gone.

He spreads out on the couch and chugs one can before reaching for another, eyes darting around his home. Uncle Wayne had been gone for nearly a week on another cross-country drop-off, and Eddie usually enjoyed having the place to himself, but now the silence engulfed him.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly as the seconds pass, his thoughts clashing into each other.

—————

Then:

Eddie tries to keep his attention on the TV as you enter the room for the fourth time that afternoon.

Rick shakes his head, taking a quick absent look in your direction.

“Dude, I think my sister might like you,” your brother laughs as you disappear back into your room.

Eddie scoffs at his words, but the thrum of his heart would’ve given him away if Rick could hear it.

“I’d never date your sister,” Eddie nudges his arm against Rick’s, eyes still trained on the video game as he sniped an enemy target, but his mind wanders behind the wood of your door. Wondering what you’re doing and if Rick might actually be right.

“Like I’d let you,” he chuckles, breaking Munson’s train of thought.

Eddie’s brow twists in confusion, and it isn’t lost on Rick. 

He turns to his friend with a flippant roll of his eyes and a gentle nudge against the metalhead’s shoulder. Prepared to emphasize his point.

“Oh, come on. I love you, man, but there’s no way in hell I’d let my sister date a guy like you.”

Eddie chuckles along with Rick to conceal the sting of his friend’s words.

He knows all the things that people don’t like about him. His hair, his tattoos. The bad reputation he’d more than earned, but to hear it from his best friend made it sting more.

He can’t help but wonder if you see him that way, a loser with no future—just the town freak. 

And in that moment, he promises himself that he’ll never put himself out there to know.

—————

Now:

Eddie presses his palm to his eye, a headache building behind his orbital bone. 

Rick’s words reverberate off his skull as he grapples with the feelings he’s long ignored. The feelings that had sprouted and made a home of him since the summer he worked with you.

Eddie can still feel your lips against his, the electricity still humming in his veins, and fuck, he wishes it had lasted a moment longer.

He made a mistake, a huge mistake, and winces every time he thinks about the look on your face when he pushed you back into the passenger seat.

Eddie knows that if it went further, you’d only regret it once the sun rose and you’d sobered up. Once the realization hit that you’d slept with the pariah of Hawkins and he couldn’t live with you seeing him that way, with you regretting him.

Not when he already saw it in so many eyes around town.

He isn’t exactly someone you could take home, someone you could brag about or show off a picture of. He knows that much, has been told that much, and already accepts it as truth.

When girls got with Eddie, they expected fun. They expected drugs and a quick hookup.

Some of them never talked to him again, pretended they didn’t know him when they ran into him in town, and others told him that being with him made them realize they’d hit rock bottom.

God, he couldn’t handle you telling him that he was your rock bottom.

Eddie decides that it’s better to ignore it, to ignore you. Better to pretend it didn’t happen despite the way he feels. To spare himself from the regret he knew you’d eventually feel.

—————

Now:

It’s a rainy day, and fat drops bounce off the windshield as your father drives. Faster than usual. 

In a hurry but you don’t know where to.

The air conditioner is off, creating a layer of condensation on the windows. Making your legs stick to the leather seats of your family’s beat-up station wagon.

You draw butterflies on the glass, a small finger tracing against the cool pane. Grinning wide as your drawings expose the gray sky and the way the dark clouds roll quickly against its expanse.

The low hum of Strawberry Fields Forever plays over the radio, but your parent’s voices are louder.

Angrier.

Your mom sniffles, and you lean up in your seat to see if she’s crying, but the length of her hair conceals her face from view.

“Mama,” you push against her seat with your sneakered foot, but she doesn’t respond.

“Jude, please pull over. I can drive.” Your mom insists, tugging at your father’s arm, but he shoves her off. 

You unbuckle your seat belt and pull at your mom’s shirt, trying to get her attention.

“Mom.”

But your voice is cut off, muffled below the volume of the radio as your dad’s hand reaches for the dial turning it until your ears ring.

You shrink back into your seat, lower lip jutted as you look between the two of them. No longer able to understand what your parents are saying, the scene in front of you a mix of gestures and twisted faces making you more confused.

Your mother pulls on your dad’s arm again, and he shoves her off, turning his head to look at her. Mouth wide as he speaks, but you still can’t understand what he’s saying.

Everything else becomes a blur of lights and pain—endless pain shooting from your leg and throughout your body.

Your cries wrack your body but are silent to your own ears. The scene around you a mix of broken glass and lifeless eyes.

Then darkness.

-

You wake up in a cold sweat, wild gaze darting around the room as sit up in bed. The fabric of your tank top clings to your sweat-slicked skin uncomfortably, and your head pounds behind your eyes. A rhythm that matches the way your heart is beating against your ribcage. 

Bile rises in your throat, the nausea that always accompanies the nightmare.

The sting of your leg a reminder of the accident, of the pain from that day.

You press a palm into the skin of your thigh, massaging the muscle marred by a thick scar that’s a shade lighter than the rest of your flesh. It aches like it just happened, like you are ten years old and trapped in that car again. 

You groan uncomfortably and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to the present. Trying to ground yourself with the distant sound of the coffee maker and the smell of burnt toast. The soft song of the birds outside of your window.

Slowly you become grounded, heart settling into a steady rhythm, and open your eyes.

Sunlight streams through your sheer curtains in brilliant rays, yellow hues creating a soft glow along your pale blue walls and highlighting the dust that dances through the air.

You throw your head back against the pillow, not ready to face the day. 

Images of the night before flooding your vision.

Simon and Rachel, her mouth pressed to his. The way she smiled up at him, held his hand.

The scene too familiar for a random drunken hook-up.

You press your palms into your eyes, rubbing until you see swirls. Until you are reminded of Eddie’s stunned face when you sat in his lap, hands pressed to his chest. The way he bucked into you.

The way he pushed you back into the passenger seat.

“Fucking idiot,” you groan with embarrassment and pull your pillow over your face, letting out a muffled scream.

You stay concealed under the pillow, contemplating jumping into the lake and disappearing altogether. Definitely not ready to face Simon and Rachel. Or Eddie.

You flail your body around as another wave of embarrassment rolls through you, causing your pillow to fall from your face.

The incessant buzz of your phone catches your attention, and you glance over at its illuminated face. The screen full of notifications that you can see without grabbing it.

Hesitantly you reach for it, eyes pouring over all the texts.

11:55PM

Simon: Guess you decided not to come tonight?

12:00AM

Simon: helloooo?

12:23AM

Simon: so you’re just going to ignore me now cos I asked you to go out?

Simon: not like we can’t do date night another time, wanted to go have some fun for once

1:03AM

Simon: so you did show up

Simon: you left with MUNSON?

2:30AM

Simon: you’re really just going to ignore me?

2:33AM

Rachel: (Y/N)?

Rachel: Simon is really worried about you

7:49AM

Simon: We need to talk

8:36AM

Rachel: Text me when you’re awake

You swallow the emotion that arose and wonder if their guilt had kept them awake, if it had eaten at them or settled into their chest. Felt whenever they breathed.

Were they even capable of that?

Slowly you push the sheets off the bed and force your legs over the edge one by one until your feet are planted firmly in the plush carpet, your back still pressed against the mattress. Phone forgotten, lost somewhere in your purple comforter.

You will yourself off the mattress and clamor out your bedroom door. Mind focused on getting a glass of water to cure your dry mouth.

The throb of your head returns as the smell of burnt toast grows stronger, and fuck, why did you drink so much last night?

You can only assume the assault on your nose is your brother’s fault.

“Is it really that hard to cook toast, Rick?” You complain loudly as you stumble into the kitchen and throw open a cabinet door, reaching for a glass on the top shelf.

You turn towards the sink, blissfully unaware that there is a set of eyes on you. Watching as you whistle and fill your glass to the brim. Foot tapping to a song that only you can hear.

Eddie watches you, a little petrified like a deer caught in the headlights.

He knew he’d see you, it was your house after all, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d see.

His eyes trace over your legs, stalling on the swell of your ass. He watches as you lean over the counter to get a better view of the lake from the window just above your sink. The angle exposing a glimpse of your butt cheeks.

It’s like you know what you’re doing, know that he’s watching and driving him just a little bit insane.

He swallows harshly, refocusing his attention back on his breakfast. Doing his best to ignore you like he’d planned.

“If it isn’t little miss sunshine,” your brother greets, his words dripping with their usual sarcasm.

You turn around to mock him but stopped in your tracks, eyes practically bulging from your skull when you notice Eddie, and you grip your cup harder.

Had he been sitting there the whole time?

He quietly nibbles on a piece of bacon. Avoiding your eye contact entirely.

The embarrassment you felt before flares awake, and god, you want to crawl into a hole and disappear entirely.

Blinking rapidly, you shift your gaze back to Rick.

He sits at the table, grabbing a plate and shoveling food onto its surface. Eggs, bacon, and the incredibly burnt toast.

“Have work today?”

“Like I do every Saturday,” you shrug, tone bored and doing your best not to glance at the metalhead out of the corner of your eye.

You sip your water, focusing on how its cool temperature slides across your tongue—trying to focus on anything else.

“I’m not going to be able to take you to work. Mrs. Wheeler needs me to take a look at her car and then I’m picking up some extra hours at the shop.”

You had yet to overcome your fear of driving, already having a hard time just being a passenger. 

“Can’t mom take me?” you question, but Rick’s head is already shaking as you get the words out.

“The transmission is acting up in her car. Need to look at it,” he states around a mouth full of food.

“Then how is she getting to work?” You set your cup onto the counter sharper than you intended and fold your arms over your chest.

“She’s not, has one of her headaches again,” he gestures to his head and shovels more food into his mouth.

“That’s why I need the overtime and for you to go to work, we need the cash. Next deal isn’t coming in before the light bill is due.”

Your shoulders sag—the constant stress of bills weighing heavy on you.

“I can just walk or get an uber,” you suggest with a tight smile, reaching over to grab a piece of bacon. 

The walk isn’t that long.

“Your uber is already here,” he points his head towards Eddie, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at his suggestion.

Not happening.

“I can just walk,” you reaffirm quickly, causing Eddie’s eyebrow to quirk.

“Why are you acting like such a brat?” 

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not, just don’t want to make Eddie go out of his way for me.” You unfold your arms and gestured absently towards him.

It was mostly true anyway, you didn’t like the idea of returning to the scene of the crime or spending the twenty minutes it would take for him to drive you to work in awkward silence.

“He’s not, stop being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” you scoff, voice rising slightly and definitely being weird.

“Besides, I can just ask Simon to give me a ride,” you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of bacon. 

Rick doesn’t need to know that you aren’t talking to Simon and definitely wouldn’t be getting a ride from him.

Eddie’s elbow settles against the wooden dining table as he watches you and the way you so easily lie to your brother.

“Jesus, fine, whatever.” Your brother holds out a hand to get you to shut up and chugs his orange juice. 

You reach for another piece of bacon but this time off his plate. Rick grabs your hand, shaking the piece out of your grasp, and turns to you—his face twists in disgust when he notices what you’re wearing for the first time.

“Go put some clothes on before Eddie gauges his fucking eyes out.” He wipes his mouth and waves a dismissive hand at you, chuckling at his own lame joke before biting into the bacon that you tried to steal.

Eddie chuckles along with your brother, his pale cheeks blossoming pink. His faux laugh disappears when he notices you sneering in his direction.

“Oh, I’d really hate for him to do that,” your voice drips with sarcasm as you roll your eyes, taking quick steps back down the hall and to your room.

You press your back against the wooden door, a mix of anger and annoyance filling your chest. Overtaking any embarrassment you previously felt.

No, Simon wouldn’t be giving you a ride but neither would Eddie. You’d rather risk showing up a sweaty mess than sit in a car alone with him.

—————

What you didn’t plan on was for it to start raining ten minutes in. 

Large drops had fallen from the sky in quick succession, dark clouds covering the warmth of the sun and creating a chill in the fall air. One of Indiana’s infamous sporadic showers.

The maple leaves are already starting to turn yellow, their brightness a contrast against the gray sky. The air smells of the evergreens, the sharpness of their leaves mixing with the sweetness of the maple trees.

Your feet trudge through the mud, splashing dirt onto the cuffs of your jeans. The road feels longer in the bad weather.

The white of your assistant manager shirt clings to your skin, revealing the pink of your bra, and you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to conceal it.

There’s a small part of you that wishes you had just taken the ride from Eddie, but there’s a bigger part, the more prideful one, that is glad you hadn’t.

Not after the way he’d laughed at you, chuckled at the thought of even being attracted to you. When you’d just mauled him the night before and this would be the perfect time for lightning to strike you down.

To end your misery, the embarrassment clinging to you once again like the fabric of your shirt.

In the distance, you can hear a car approaching, and you move further into the dirt to avoid being hit. 

Hoping it isn’t a creep or a new serial killer looking for his next victim.

But it’s worse.

It’s Eddie.

Smiling at you from his rolled-down window, van driving slowly on the road's edge.

“Are you that fucking stubborn?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Go away, Munson.”

You don’t look at him, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Simon a no-show, huh?”

You click your teeth, trying to appear nonchalant. Like the words didn’t dig at you.

“Looks like it.”

His shoulders drop as you continue to ignore him, and he decides to appeal to your sensible side instead.

“You’re going to get sick.”

“So?”

And why did he think you could be sensible?

He groans and speeds up a little, parking the car just before you to block your path. You stop in your tracks, listening as he climbs out of the driver’s seat and rounds the car.

“Are we really going to do this again?,” he questions as he trudges toward you. Boots slamming into the mud. Curls a little wild and starting to cling to his face when he looks at you.

“Do what?” You give him an innocent smile, eyelashes batting dramatically. 

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Just get in the fucking car,” he states through gritted teeth, his annoyance only making your grin widen.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather gauge your eyes out?” Your voice drops low, mocking Rick’s tone. 

You drop your smile, gaze a little cold as it meets his, and push past him to continue your walk to work.

He throws his head back, face to the sky. Of course, you were pissed about that.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He turns to you, watching as you get a little further way from him.

“For driving me home last night and making out with me or for laughing at me this morning?” You turn around and begin to walk backward, arms lifting from your side. 

A little tired, a little defeated, and you stop beside his van waiting for his answer - concealed from the rest of the road.

“Laughing at you,” his voice is earnest, “I didn’t mean it.”

You nod, his words a salve to that wound but still, there was the mortifying way he’d pushed you away from him.

Eddie began to walk towards you, drawing closer. The scent of his cologne invading your senses.

“Sure you aren’t sorry about the making out part?” You question, eyes trained on his amber gaze as he approaches.

He swallows roughly and debates whether he should be honest. 

“I’m,” he pauses and sighs heavily, “I’m not sorry about that.”

You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to appear flippant, to seem as though his reassurance doesn’t affect you the way that it did. Heart hammering wildly, legs a little wobbly because Eddie Munson didn’t regret kissing you.

“Well that’s good, I’m glad neither of us regretted it,” you turn back around, missing the way his gaze lit up at your words. The reassurance that he needed.

“Now you can go on your merry way and pretend that you gave me a ride. I promise I won’t tell my brother that you didn’t.”

His hand is warm against your arm as he spins you around to look at him.

Your shoes slide against the wet earth from the force, and it is for a brief moment that you see him before you crash into the soft mud.

“Fuck-“ your curses are synchronized as you fall and pull him atop you, his weight causing you to groan from the sudden impact.

Eddie’s knee is slotted between your legs as he lifts his weight onto his forearms, brown gaze boring into your eyes. An apology on his lips when you begin to laugh. Giggles filling the air around you.

You looked at the evidence of your fall, your white shirt now painted brown. Ruined, and marred from the mud. Your hair is a mess of dirt that clings to your face.

Eddie is nearly devoid of any filth. The only evidence he’d fallen is the mud that soaks through the pants of his jeans. 

And it’s a little bit annoying how he isn’t as muddy as you.

Slowly you reach your finger up and slide it across his pale skin with a wide mischievous smile. Chuckling at the way his eyebrows marry at your actions, the way his jaw juts to this side and he shakes his head.

“You brat,” he lifts a hand and attempts to copy your actions as you try to wiggle away. His free hand stills you, holding you by the waist, as he drags the other across your cheek.

His playful smile mirrors yours.

“You jerk, I have to get to work!” But your tone doesn’t match the light in your eyes.

“I don’t think Huntzberger wants you hovering over the popcorn, let alone walking into the building, like this.”

His eyes roam your body, noticing the way your nipples are pebbled against the pink lace of your bra, easy to see through the sheer fabric of your shirt. The way your jeans hug the flare of your hips as you squirm beneath him.

Your breath hitches as you watch the way his gaze dances over your frame, chest rising and falling at a quick pace that isn’t lost on Eddie.

“How much time do you have before work?” His voice is a little gruff, affected, and it takes a moment for you to form a coherent thought.

You blink rapidly, hands resting on his chest absently, and clear your throat.

He lifts off of you and reaches a hand to help you up, but you pull him down into the mud beside you.

“You little shit!” Eddie looks at himself, the mud that clings to his jacket and jeans.

“Oops,” you shrug and lean out of his way as he throws mud at you.

“I have like two hours,” you laugh, looking at him completely amused.

“How long did you think it was going to take you to walk?” He lays there defeated, chuckle matching yours.

“I don’t know, it was just in case-“

“In case what? You had to fight a pack of wood rats to get through?”

“Shut up,” you shove his face from yours, mud caking his cheek.

Eddie gasps at the same time you do, realization dawning as he tackles you back into the mud.

It was like the whole world fell around you, ceasing to exist except for you and Eddie. His muddied face hovering above yours, long fingers digging into your sides as you try to wiggle away from him.

Your giggles fill the air, and you push at his chest.

“Stop! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tears spring in your eyes as you push against his chest once more, dirt seeping further into your clothes as you lay there at his mercy.

“Say please,” he insists, and you shake your head, hands gripping his shirt.

For a moment, he stops, fingers stilling at your sides and he smiles at you mischievously. Face moving half an inch closer, and your smile falters briefly, gaze darting to his lips and back to his eyes. Their deep brown staring back at you, a light in them you hadn’t seen.

“You don’t regret it?” He questions, needing to hear it again. His breath fanning against your face.

You shake your head, already knowing the “it” that he thought you regretted. 

Eddie leans closer, his lips a whisper above your own. Shaky breaths mixing with yours.

Your heart skips as you anticipate the first touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

Eddie pulls away, slowly. Hesitantly.

“Think we should get you back home,” he looks down at your dirtied clothes and chuckles, face hovering above yours. You try to hide your disappointment as you nod in agreement.

He pushes himself off of you wiping his hands along his jeans before stretching out his hand to help you up.

Your palm slides against his, caked dirt pressing against his warm hand, and he pulls you against him. Sliding his hands down until they settle on your waist.

His nose traces yours as his fingers dig into your hips, and he swallows hard.

The composure he’d always managed to maintain quickly slipping away.

You tilt your face and run a hand against his jaw, cupping his chin. Thumb lazing against his stubbled flesh drawing circles in his skin.

“Fuck it,” Eddie breathes, and his lips push against yours.

The press of them makes you gasp, they’re just as soft as you remembered but more fervent than before.

His tongue presses at the seam of your lips, swiping against yours when you open for him.

He tastes sweet like spearmint, and you hum.

Exhilaration thrums through you, and you pull him closer, arms wrapping around his neck.

Chest to chest.

Hearts synchronized, each beating at a rapid pace, and you want the moment to stretch on.

For the kiss to never end.

Thunder cracks in the air and the two of you pull apart, looking up at the darkened sky just as the rain begins to fall again.

Eddie looks back at you, his dimpled grin wide as the first drop hits his cheek, and you yelp as another drop cascades down your face.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, enjoying your surprised gasp. The way you instantly melt into his touch.

“Will you please get in the fucking car now?” 

You nod rapidly, your hand slipping into Eddie’s warm palm. Allowing him to pull you towards his van and into the passenger seat.

-

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[harmonic-intervention]

Since it is almost 911-day, and I am sure to be proven wrong about all of my headcanons (can't fucking wait!), I need to put some out there about my special guy. Don't even know if any of this makes sense, but here you go.

When Tommy opened his eyes, he stared at the burnt-out corpse of a helicopter.

Oh, he thought, I'm back here. His thoughts felt thick and slow, and he couldn't quite make sense of what he was seeing.

He had been here before.

He had crashed his chopper once before. He had done several emergency landings, but only actually fell out of sky one time, and that was in the army.

He couldn't fully remember. He couldn't remember what went wrong, and the theories that everyone else had were just that - theories. All he knew was that he lost control, he crashed, and was the only one to survive. Three were dead on impact, one died before recovery, one died as the medics were still working on him, and Tommy made it.

He hadn't been awake when they had gotten him, and he had only seen the photographs of the crushed chopper, so whenever he found himself back here, he stood outside of it, staring at the thing that clipped his wings for years to come.

After, he was discharged and sent home, and the thought of flying filled him with anxiety, so he didn't. He stayed on the ground, only able to stare up into the endless blue and yearn and fear. About so many things.

He blinked.

"Tom."

He turned around, no longer in the middle of nowhere staring at a broken chopper.

He was in the backyard of his aunt's house - his father's sister. The person who had spoken was Michael, one of his cousins, who, like the rest of the family, insisted on calling him Tom because Tommy is juvenile! Grow up!

"You know the rules, man," Michael continued, sounding almost apologetic.

Tommy remembered this day. His mother had just died a couple of months back and he was still getting used to the loveless house and the polite coolness of his father's family that his mother had done her best to shield him from.

His thoughts felt disjointed, and he couldn't quite remember what this was about. Someone said something that made Tommy feel awful, at the very least, and when he tried to speak out, Michael had stopped him.

You know the rules.

Like be seen, not heard, don't disagree with the adults, and, most importantly, don't be gay.

It was the moment that Tommy realized he needed to keep quiet about everything. Don't speak up, don't do anything but nod when faced with their opinions, be straight.

He blinked.

"Thomas."

There was only one person who called him Thomas, and only one person who did it like this - slurred together into almost one syllable, always sounding angry.

He was back in the living room of his childhood home, seventeen, a backpack slung over his shoulder, his father sat on the couch with a bottle of whiskey.

He had trouble grasping his thoughts for a moment - hadn't he just been in the yard? Much younger? What was that about a helicopter?

He knew what would happen that day. He'd kissed Andrew Jenkins behind the old hunter's shack three weeks ago, and the rumors had finally reached his dad.

"What did I always tell you?" his father asked, or tried to.

He had said a lot. Never anything worth listening to.

"Didn't ya hear me, boy? What did I always tell you!?"

Tommy's father was not a man who liked being ignored. He yelled and roared, spittle and drops of whiskey flying from his mouth. Tommy stayed quiet.

"No fucking son of mine will be one of those queers, you understand me, boy!? So, when I ask you whether what I heard is true, you better say no!"

Tommy had to think of something about a forged signature, of running away, of a camp and drills and training and men just like his father, of a helicopter.

"Is what I heard today true, boy?"

"You're a sorry excuse for a man." Tommy was reasonably sure that was not what was supposed to come out of his mouth. He never said anything like this. He only ever wanted to.

His father, in a blur, suddenly stood in front of Tommy. His face morphed into Gerrard's for a moment, then back into the haggard, cross-eyed man Tommy had known in his youth.

He was close enough that Tommy could smell his alcohol-stained breath, something he had become too familiar with. When he was young, his father had seemed scary, intimidating to him. Now, he seemed weak, not able to keep himself upright.

All his life, he had wished he had taken a swing at his dad, just once. Fought back, just once.

Violence ran in the family, after all.

He had a hand fisted in the collar of his father's shirt. He didn't know how it got there.

His father smiled. He had never smiled. Sneered, yes. Frowned, a lot. Never smiled. It didn't suit him. "Do it, you coward. Be a man."

He hadn't said that in this context. Not to Tommy. He had said it to his brother-in-law after Tommy's mother had died and a fight between his father and the rest of the in-laws caused them to never contact Tommy again.

God, Tommy hated this man. He didn't hate many people, he didn't think. Vaguely, he thought that he would normally just wash his hands of them and never think of them. That sounded better.

But he would never completely remove this. He was his father's son, after all.

He blinked.

"Tommy."

They had moved from the living room to the entrance. He wasn't seventeen. He was 40, holding onto his father's shirt collar, and in the open door of his childhood home behind him stood Evan.

He reached out a hand, and Tommy immediately dropped his father in favor of turning around and accepting Evan's grasp. His grip was strong, a bit tight, clutching at him almost in desperation.

"Tommy," he said again, but there was almost an echo there, far away and urgent. He seemed to be staring right through Tommy.

He gripped Tommy's shoulders with both of his hands. "Tommy, come on. You gotta be here."

"I- I am?" Tommy said, or he thought he did. His voice got lost in Evan's.

"Tommy, please."

He blinked.

Then again.

And again.

He smelled smoke. The side of his face felt tacky and the sun was painfully bright in his eyes. His head was pounding.

He tried to sit up, but everything in his head slid off a slope and he dropped back down, closing his eyes against the spinning tree tops.

He breathed against the nausea rising up in his stomach, but that just made him cough thanks to the smoke. God, his ribs hurt. He'd probably cracked a few.

His copter had gone down, he remembered suddenly.

He had told them that something wasn't quite right, but they had sent him up anyway. And then, he started having issues with the rotor controls.

He'd tried for an emergency landing, but when there was nothing but forest underneath him, there wasn't excactly room to safely land a chopper.

He remembered being conscious after hitting the ground. He remembered crawling out of there and throwing up as soon as he got his legs under him, before he stumbled away as the hunk of junk left of his copter burst into flames.

He had made as far as his legs could carry him until he collapsed to the ground.

His head hurt. Breathing hurt. He kind of just wanted to go to sleep.

"Tommy!"

He smiled a bit. Maybe he could go and find Evan in his dream again.

"Tommy!" Louder this time. Closer, it seemed. Urgent.

How long had Evan been shouting for him? He'd heard that same urgent undertone in his dream.

"Tommy!"

He could hear additional voices, now. He couldn't identify them. He could hear the sound of several heavy boots making their way through the undergrowth.

Good. He didn't think he could talk if he tried.

For a moment, the sounds stopped. Then picked up again, louder, and faster, and coming closer.

"Tommy!" A heavy body crashed to the ground next to him, and hands on his face gently, slowly helped him turn his head to look at Evan, kneeling next to him.

He slowly raised his hand. His shoulder hurt a bit, too, but not as bad as his head. Evan took his hand before he could try to figure out what to do with it.

"Can you talk? Where are you hurt?"

Everywhere? Tommy didn't think he had broken anything but his ribs - miracle of miracles - but he was pretty banged up. He'd probably be bruised all over. He was probably also concussed, now that he thought about it.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed, and it felt like nails scraping against the inside of his throat. Kept looking at Evan, despite the presence of other people appearing at his side, other hands trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Ev-Evan," he croaked, and almost regretted it immediately, if it wasn't for the relieved smile it caused.

"Yeah, it's me, it's Evan. We've got you, now. You'll be okay."

Tommy nodded as best as he could, and Evan didn't leave his side for a moment when he was picked up.

He kept mumbling his name over and over whenever Tommy's eyes shut for too long, whenever it looked like Tommy was about to slip away. He kept holding his hand.

"Tommy."

[ravenwolfie97]

i have successfully made malanga fritters from In Stars and Time and God are they good bros

[earthnashes]

Heyooooo ya'll! Figured it'd be a good idea to give a quick lil update on what I'm up to since it's been a while since I just talked on here.

If you don't wanna read here's the TL;DR:

-Fanart and headcanon AU projects in indefinite hiatus. This tumblr will host my commissioned art, original art/OC projects, and occasional tomfoolery of my thoughts, interests, and updates on my Powerlifting venture.

The full update under the break! :)

---- I'm doing relatively good! Cool news: I will be competing in my first powerlifting meet this year! It's been made official as of two months ago, and I've been hard at work with training and prep for the meet. I have my eye on making the state record for the Benchpress in my weightclass and I think I have real shot at it, so I'm gonna make the attempt. Wish me luck! ;w;

Not so good news: Rent's going up. Who's isn't, right? Gonna be putting a serious effort on looking for a new place (I'm reeaaallly gunning for a house) because SHEEEEEEEEEEEESH that spike in price for the exact same shit? Nah man. Likely will get rough a few times over the next few months but I'm confident I'll figure things out!

Now, the crux of why the update: I figured it was probably high time to mention the complete lack of fanart and headcanons 'round here, especially because that's what helped me find all of you and vice versa.

I'll be honest; I am no longer burnt out on creating art, but I've found the interest to continue any of my AU fanprojects is still missing, so as of right now they are on an indefinite hiatus. I apologize to everyone who followed me for the Super Mario, the LoZ stuff, anything and everything I was working on before the burnout! ;w;

I'm still working on projects, they're just completely original ones! I've been having so much fun with them and I'm pretty happy with them; here's a quick preview of each:

One is a slowburn fantasy where a god becomes trapped in the mortal realm while on a mission, but ends up compromising said mission when she begins to believe everything she knew about mortals is a lie.

The second project is an anthro mystery/thriller about a doe who knows her husband was murdered, but no one else believes her. As she works to find his killer herself, the last thing she expects is falling in love.

The third is the only fanproject I have going and ya'll know of it: Melon's Adventure! Follow Melon as he faces dangers and villains on his quest to return baby Mario to his family. A retelling of Yoshi's Island with twists and a personal flair!

---

But ye! I wanna say thank you all so much for your interest and engagement with my fanart work; regardless of everything I had an absolute great time working on them, and you all made them all the more enjoyable. It may take a little bit before I start posting them, but I hope you stick around for the original/OC stuff and enjoy what I've got in store! ;w;

Feel free to ask questions or make comments, I'll be around to respond starting today. Until then keep them peepers open for more art! :)

[katiesyellowcardcollection]

I bet God heard you comin'

leah Williamson x Williamson!kid

part of the ‘your gonna go so far’ series

warnings: mention of death, house-fires.

a look back into the day and year after reader loses her family in a family in the fire.

You were cold, the tinfoil that one of the firefighters places on your shoulders doing little to warm you up.

you didn’t really understand what was going on.

you knew you wanted your daddy though, you knew that for definite, he went back into the house a while go now and he hadn’t come back out yet.

you were only seven, and so you didn’t quite understand why you couldn’t go get your daddy out the house, the strange firefighters were going in and out your house, but daddy wasn’t, neither was your sisters, you didn’t know where they were either.

you told the big strange men that they were in there still, they didn’t answer you though, they just gave each other a strange look.

you diverted your eyes back to your house, it looked funny now, it was all burnt to a crisp, the roof had a hole in it, and it smelled, your whole street smelled, it made your nose feel all funny and your eyes all watery.

your eyes were fixated on your front door, although the door wasn’t there anymore, instead it was just an empty gap, you hoped they would walk out the gap soon.

a part of you knew they weren’t going to though, you heard their screams, and you saw how scared your daddy looked, you just hoped you were wrong.

you weren’t wrong very often, your daddy told you that you were the smartest girl in the world, so you didn’t think you were wrong, but you hoped that you were.

you didn’t notice a car pulling up your road, nor did you notice a woman getting out of the car and talking to the firefighters before making her way over to you.

“what’s your name honey” the woman asks you, startling you, making you jump back slightly.

you didn’t know who she was, you’d never seen her before and so you didn’t reply, your daddy always warned you of stranger danger, he said you should never speak to someone you didn’t know without asking him, so you ignored her.

you thought she would go away eventually, but she didn’t she just came closer, until her whole body was in your eyesight.

she had long blonde hair just like you, but she had wriggly lines all up her forehead, and she was wearing a big coat, you wished you had your coat right now, you were freezing.

“i’m going to take you to the hospital is that okay” the strange woman questioned you.

you didn’t want to go, you had a sinking feeling that if you left you’d never see your home again, or your daddy and sisters.

“daddy?” you asked quietly, deciding that just once it would be okay if you broke your daddy’s rules,

she shakes her head sadly “no sweetheart daddy isn’t here”

you scrunch up your eyebrows in protest, shaking your head vigorously “he is! he is! he went back in there” you yelled loudly, pointing back towards your house.

she gave you another weird look, the same look your teacher gave you when you threw up at school and on your first day of school when you cried all day for your daddy to pick you up.

“yeah he did, he was very brave, but he’s not here anymore” she answered, ignoring your outburst.

you tilt your head in confusion, you were seven so you wasn’t a baby, but you still didn’t really understand what she meant because he definitely hadn’t left your house yet, he would’ve come find you otherwise, you knew it.

“do you know what heaven is” the woman questioned, crouching down to your level.

you nod your head, that was where your dad said nanny had gone a few years ago, when she got really sick.

“well your daddy has gone to heaven” she told you gently.

your scrunched your face up, you didn’t cry though, you still didn’t understand, daddy wasn’t sick, he just went inside, you don’t die if your not sick you thought.

“he’s not sick” you replied quietly.

“he wasn’t but the fire hurt him really bad so he went to heaven” she explained to you kindly.

“sissy too?” you asked again, this time your voice almost unrecognisable.

you suppose if they weren’t sat with you too that they too got sick from the fire and went to heaven as well, you didn’t want them to go to heaven, your dad told you that heaven is for old people, your sisters weren’t old, sure they were a bit older than you but not that old, not old enough for heaven.

“yeah your sisters too i’m sorry honey”

you didn’t answer her, instead you turned your attention back to the house.

all the fire was gone now, most of your neighbours had gone back inside and there wasn’t anymore screaming you realised, the only noise you could hear was the firefighters taking to each other, and the social workers heavy breathing.

you still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact your daddy and sisters were in heaven with nanny, it didn’t make sense, they were here, you saw them and heard them, you played with your sister earlier that evening, outside your house, and now she just wasn’t here, you didn’t understand.

“i’m going to take you to hospital now sweetheart, where’s your mummy?” the strange woman spoke to you again, after a few moments of silence.

you didn’t have a mummy, or you did but she wasn’t your mummy anymore, you never actually met her so she had never really been yours, she was your sisters at one point though, sometimes you got jealous that they knew her and you didn’t but then they’d remind you that she wasn’t very nice anyways and you weren’t missing much.

you didn’t tell the social worker this though, even if you wanted to you couldn’t speak, your sure even if you opened your mouth and went to speak no words would come out.

you didn’t know what was going to happen now, you didn’t have a mummy or any aunties and uncles, it was always you, your dad and your sisters Evelyn and lily, what was supposed to happen to you?

-

you were in the hospital now, you didn’t know why but lots of doctors came and checked you over, you didn’t like that, you wanted to go to sleep, not to be keep being prodded by doctors when you knew nothing was wrong with you.

they tried to rub off all the black soot that covered your face but you refused, you cried and screamed until they back away from your face.

you didn’t know why, but you really didn’t want them to wipe it away.

you still hadn’t uttered a word, since they told your daddy and sisters had gone to heaven, you had cried and cried but you hadn’t spoken.

you wished he was here right now, if he was he would’ve let you curl up in his lap and go to sleep.

you can’t curl up now though you realised, you won’t see him again, the thought sends another fresh wave of tears down your already tear stained face.

you’re clinging to your teddy as though your life depends on it, when another strange woman walks through the door, this time though you think you recognise her.

she looked a bit like your big sister ev, she was tall and blonde and so was this woman.

you watched as she gave you small smile before walking over to your social worker.

she had told you that she was looking for any family members to look after you and that if you knew anyone you should tell her, you didn’t though because you still couldn’t speak.

you didn’t really understand why, even if you wanted to speak, you just couldn’t

you couldn’t stop replaying the events of the night.

you were supposed to go to a tournament and stay at your friends house, but you decided last minute you didn’t want to, so you had your favourite dinner; mac and cheese with broccoli, you had your bath, you watched tv downstairs and played with your sisters before saying goodnight to them and going up to bed, you brushed your teeth and your dad read you your favourite bedtime story before he tucked you in gave you kiss a on both cheeks told you he loved you and then turned the lights off.

everything was normal, exactly how every other night went, so why did everything go so wrong tonight, you didn’t get it.

you watched as the woman who looked a bit like Evelyn started waking towards you with your social worker, who you recently learned was called Carly.

“Hi y/n my names Leah” she told you, coming to sit down beside you.

you just nodded in response, you didn’t really care who she was, she wasn’t your daddy or sisters, you didn’t particularly care for what she had to say.

“would you like to come home with me” she asked you slowly.

slowly you move your head towards her own, taking in her appearance, she looked so similar to evelyn, it scared you, she had bright blue eyes just like evs and her blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail, exactly how evelyn did her hair for school.

you wanted to tell her that no you don’t want to go home with her, that her home is not your home, your home is with your papa, evelyn and lily, your home is all burned up and destroyed but it’s still your home, her house isn’t.

you don’t do any of this though because you still can’t speak and even if you couldn’t, you knew the importance of manners.

instead you just stare blankly at both the older woman, your arms were still tightly wrapped around your teddy.

“y/n” the social worker speaks again, pulling you from your train of thought.

you nod your head in response, you didn’t really have any other choice, it’s not like you had any other family to take you in.

Leah gave you a small smile in response, reaching out her hand for you to grab.

you take it, even though you don’t really want too, even though every single one of your instincts is to run away and find your family.

-

you’d lived with Leah for a whole year now, it was weird for some time, living with her, living in a new room, house, neighbourhood, you even started a new school it was all weird and wrong.

you had come to love Leah though, she was a professional footballer, you wanted to be just like her when you were older.

you got to watch her play in stadiums playing for arsenal, that was super cool and you told everyone you met, even if they already knew.

you love arsenal, before your dad and sisters went to heaven you went to all of their games together, you cheered them on every single weekend.

now you don’t get to watch the boys play that much because Leah is always playing on the weekend, but that’s okay with you because you like watching her play, and you really like all her teammates too.

sometimes you really missed your family, that you forgot how to breathe, Leah told you that this was called a panic attack, which made sense because when you realised they were never coming back it did make you scared but Leah always made them go away, she would talk to you about anything and everything and then you’d remember how to breathe again and it would all be okay.

you had to go to therapy too, you had to speak to this strange old woman called Emma, you didn’t really like her and you made it known every time you had to go, but Leah always promised you a milkshake after so that was okay too.

sometimes you got really mad too, you didn’t quite understand why but when you remembered that your family was gone and that you weren’t going to see them again in this lifetime, it made you angry, really angry, one time you even hit your teacher and got sent home from school because she asked where your daddy was, and it made you mad.

you thought Leah would be really mad at you, but she wasn’t, she just asked why you did that, and even though you couldn’t really describe why, your sure Leah understand what you meant because she treated you to ice cream later that day after training

Leah said the therapy was for this too, you suppose it helped to because you didn’t get angry that much anymore.

-

you called Leah your mamma today, you were nine and you’d lived with Leah for two years now, it made sense to you and so you didn’t really question yourself before saying it, it sort of just came out.

it made Leah really happy though and she started crying, she took you out for ice cream and brought you the lego set you had been asking for for months.

you think you love Leah almost as much as you love your daddy, she was kind and she plaited your hair in the fancy way that your papa hadn’t quite got the gist off, she played football with you too and secretly you thought she was better than your dad, although you would never admit this incase he heard in heaven and got sad.

Leah lets you talk about your dad whenever, sometimes she even talks about him too, she said she only him once but she thought he looked just like you, that idea made you smile.

you missed your daddy, you missed your sisters too but Leah helped you, you think she saved you too and you loved her, so much, that you thought maybe it would all be okay.

[brotherwtf]

Did you see the new pics of Austin Butler as a bartender that just dropped? I know @anachilles has written Gale as a Bartender but after seeing those pics I want more !!

Burnt out Jhon going to the bar nearly everyday just to flirt with the handsome bartender. He sits in the counter every night and strikes up a random conversation. Gale tries to be professional at first but he also likes the company and they slowly become friends

OMG YES YES AUSTIN LOOKS SO FUCKING GOOD HES SO BIG IM TEARING AT MY WALLS

but yes @anachilles has so many fantastic scenes with bartender Gale (go read whiskey neat, coffee black, there will be homework) but I would LOVE to share some of my hcs for bartender Gale

but yes, John who goes to the bar every night to wash away the feelings of the day, maybe he's a burnt out football or baseball player (caught stealing? omg the parallels) who's just looking for a spark to motivate him to keep going on, and he finds it in the absolute unit of a bartender that had started working there

John can't stop looking at his arms when he's cleaning glasses or when he's wiping down tables, secretly wonders what they would taste like under his tongue, basically he just sits there the first couple of nights and ogles this bartender, can't keep his eyes off of him

one night, he asks John what he wants to drink and John responds stupidly with "something strong like you, you got a name along with your muscles?" and oh when he flushes? John could get used to this

every night he orders the same thing, three fingers of whiskey under the guise of something strong, and it loosens his tongue enough for him to strike up conversations with the bartender while there is a lull in customers

John learns his name is Gale and he just moved to Wisconsin from Wyoming and that he has a dog named meatball, but honestly John just loves to talk to him, even through a tipsy haze he can't get enough of the way Gale shakes his head every time John makes a dumb joke, the way he hides his laugh behind his hand when he doesn't want John to see that it's worked, God John thinks he's finally found something worth living for

Gale almost never gave in or acknowledged John's flirting, but a couple of times he'll respond with a flirty quip of his own and John will just be stunned into silence, left only with a dopey expression and a stupid smile on his face

John will stay until they close, often stopping after a few rounds of drinks and just likes to talk, likes Gales company, and Gale would be the last person to admit that he likes the company too

the first time they kiss is when John walks Gale to his car after his shift, insisting that he's there to protect Gale even though he's perfectly fine on his own. and even when they get to Gale's car they just kind of stay there, aren't really intent on going anywhere, don't really want to leave the other persons presence

Gale moves to get in his car but John surges forward, kissing him gently because he knows if he doesn't do it now he'll regret it forever. And Gale's shocked, but it doesn't stop him from pressing back into John's face and kissing him again

anyway, John still goes to the bar every night, but it's mostly just to see his boyfriend and drop things off for him, giving him a little kiss and telling him he can't wait for Gale's shift to be over so he can kiss him more (Gale absolutely loves it)

[ckret2]

i’m admittedly obsessed with music/have music as a special interest so this question has been on my mind for quite some time now - if Bill (from your goldilocks fanfic) were to listen to any music, or have any particular music taste, what would it be? Any particular songs in mind that he likes? ( <—totally not looking for more/new songs to listen to hahahahaha…sweats)

half of me thinks he’d like 40s/50’s/60’s music (thanks to the vera lynn reference in the fic, but also bc he sings it in-show), but the other half of me wants him to like musicals (heathers, in particular) - i can’t explain why lol

alternatively, if you’ve answered smth like this already, i’d love to know what songs you enjoy/listen to!

Have a post about his tastes and a hideous-sounding playlist! And it even held up in the face of TBOB.

The only difference in my headcanons is that I said the peak of his his tastes centers on the 60s and I subsequently found an interview where Alex confirms Bill's tastes do indeed range from about 40s~60s; but I just got out of another fandom where everyone headcanoned a character is into 40s music ranging into the 50s and I'm pretty burnt out on The Most Popular 40s Jazz That Everybody And Their Grandma Knows so I still personally prefer to focus on the 50s for him lmao.

In fic he makes a reference to a band called Mysterious Mo's Average Joes; I imagine them as an in universe equivalent to Question Mark & the Mysterians, except more obscure.

Specific to my headcanoned music tastes of Bill from my fic rather than just Bill in general: coming in his tastes are all the same, but hanging around Mabel has given him an expanded palate for boy band music and kids music, although on the boy band front he prefers dance-y songs over ballad-y songs and on the kids music front he has to steer through a minefield of cheaply-produced 80s cartoons that use synthesized music to save cost on an orchestra.

So far, nothing else has happened to change his tastes.

Although eventually Robbie's introducing him to emo.

I listen to too much music for the question "what songs do you listen to," it's like asking "what words do you use" lmao, lemme look at my recent activity. Lately I've been getting into She Hates Emotion and the new albums by Zeal & Ardor and Fleshgod Apocalypse; I've been slacking in my metal education on learning the difference between black metal and death metal (I usually focus on symphonic metal & neighboring genres) so I'm looping back to the basics to learn more there; big fan of Saltatio Mortis's new album; I've been listening to the deeper cuts & newer material of mainstream early 00s alt rock & nu metal bands (Shinedown, Stone Sour, Staind) to see what I've been missing out on beyond their radio hits; and in general the past few months I've been trawling through playlists of classic 80s goth, dark wave, synth pop, & aggrotech to expand my library there. Very excited for the new Linkin Park lineup, love their new vocalist so far and it's heartening to see them releasing new material. Not so excited by the new Nightwish album, it has the nightwish sound but not the spark. This isn't even an accurate representation of my full musical tastes, I've just been really into metal recently. Current favorite bands of the last few years are Alt-J and Ghost. I listed some of my favorite albums on this post. It's too bad you can't just link your Spotify liked songs without sticking them all in a separate playlist—oh hold on I have a songs I can sing playlist, it's perpetually incomplete on top of being 3-4 years out of date but it's a starting point.

[starheirxero]

Xero- Xero, I just thought of something- And it's fucking me up BAD- I am in SHAMBLES/POS- ITS HAUNTING ME-

Lunara tore their Eclipse apart from the inside out. They ripped him into pieces. This we know.

And it wasnt enough. It would never be enough.

They told Sun, that it lacked the satisfaction they were hoping for. It "wasn't as fun as they would've liked".

And of course it wasn't. It could never be, really.

Because revenge will never take away the scars left behind. It will never right the wrong.

As Lunar has said, "an eye for an eye makes the world go blind" !

It would never be enough. It would never heal them. And it didn't.

It only made them angrier, more bitter. It caused them to wreck havoc, until eventually, nothing was left. Until even their anger burnt out.

And they still weren't satisfied. They simply grew numb. Their anger, their scars, had eaten them from the inside out, until nothing was left.

But what if this wasn't all?

What if their anger, their self-inflicted madness, came from something else? Something worse even?

Because recently, I remembered Lunar and Eclipse's conversation!

When Lunar and Eclipse talked, and found something akin to mutual ground, Eclipse told Lunar, he was proud of them. Proud because they killed him. Proud because they "finally got it".

And suddenly, something clicked into place for me!

What if Lunara's Eclipse declared his pride for them, just as he drew his last breath?

What if, after an endless cycle of abuse and resets, of deaths, they finally freed themself?

What if they tore him apart, screaming at him? "You did this to me, are you happy? Are you satisfied?"

And what if, in his last moments, when they finally let up and he stopped screaming, he grinned at them through his own remains, telling them "Finally you get it." "You actually made me proud."

What if, even in his last moments, he still looked upon them with condescension? What if he still had that arrogant and smug tone in his voice? What if, even in death, he would not let them go?

Because god, of course this would be the final straw.

They thought, they finally ripped themself free from his control, only for him to tell them, that they became what he wanted them to be.

"You did this to me, are you happy? Are you satisfied?" "I am. You are perfect now, thanks to me."

Even in death, he has complete and utter control over them. Because they are exactly what he wanted them to be.

Maybe it drove them to insanity, as they destroyed everything in their path.

Maybe they tried to be worse because of it.

Maybe, by the time Earth meets them, they reached acceptance. Accepting, that they will never be free from his grasp.

Maybe, a small, twisted part of them felt happiness at the prospect of Eclipse's pride.

Whatever they might've felt, one thing is perfectly clear.

He will always haunt them, always haunt their narrative. He will always be the ghost looking over their shoulders, keeping a tight hold on their strings. They will never find peace in this life.

-Stardust

STARDUST I'M GUNNA SHAKE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can't even BEGIN with how many DISEASES THIS IS GIVING ME. HOLY SHIT.

That fits in so perfectly with what we already know about Lunara I can't OVER IT. OF COURSE HIS SMUG SATISFACTION WOULD MAKE MATTERS SO MUCH WORSE. OF COURSE HIS LAST WORDS BEING THAT THEY PLAYED DIRECTLY INTO HIS HANDS WOULD PUSH THEM TO THEIR LIMIT. OF COURSE. OF COURSE!!!!!

AND THE IDEA OF THERE STILL BEING AN INKLING OF JOY FROM THAT AHHHHHHHHHH AHAHAUAHAGAHAGSJSG STARDUST YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEEE HOLY SHIT

Being so utterly torn up inside because they finally got to kill Eclipse but he said he was proud of them for finally getting it but that's not the response they wanted but that validation has been something they've craved for such a long time but they don't want it anymore but they can't help it BUT— AUAGAHAGAHHH!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS GUT WRENCHING. THIS IS GUNNA HAUNT ME. I'M ADOPTING THIS INTO MY BELIEF SYSTEM ASAP ABDKWBJSDH

[ghostorbz]

Let's talk about the flipside

Something I actually,,, really don't wanna do!! But I will anyway. This game turned out so fucking bad its actually ridiculous. First off,, what went wrong?

For me, it was:

-The stories

-The endings

-The characterizations

-All the feet?????

Spoilers for basically the whole game, by the way. Not that you should subject yourself to this. Trigger warning for like,, everything???

Let's start off with the stories and endings

OD ending:

Jecka has a major panic attack because of her,,, "job" and Nicole and ends up over dosing. Voluntarily.

Human trafficking ending

Jecka gets put into human trafficking by the police when all she wanted was her paycheck, her manager and somewhat friend Kelly dies.

Jeffery murder ending

Nicole murders Jeffery and she forces Jecka to not call the police by threatening her.

Ari dies ending

While drunk driving Jecka crashes into Ari while she's delivering food and she dies. Ari does, not Jecka.

Nicole's suicide ending

A tie in with the first game. Nicole gets stuck in hostage friendships while Jecka is forced to date her teacher for a good grade. She goes to in school therapy for it. Her heavily abusive dad finds out and Jecka runs to Nicole's house to find her dead.

First off, what does EVERY ending have? Jecka suffering. Suffering horribly. Rather from someone/herself dying, being abused, or just straight up depression.

Let's compare these endings with some of Nicole's endings

Nicole dies, Nicole sabotages a relationship, Nicole gets people to die, Nicole causes a girl's house to get burnt down, Nicole wins a court case, Nicole gets her house back, Nicole gets valedictorian. Of course this is only a small portion out of the two games. But notice how good things happen to Nicole in some endings? In some cases the bad endings feel justified because of how Nicole treats people, but not all of them are bad. Sure, some of them aren't deserved. My point is Nicole has good things happen to her along with the bad things.

Flipside has none of that. Jecka suffers nonstop despite doing nothing in every single ending. She isn't happy in any ending. Nothing turns out for her!!! We see time and time again how Nicole gets things to work for her whether she manipulates it or not. Nicole can have happiness. But Jecka can only suffer. A teenage punching bag. This girl has done nothing wrong to deserve anything she gets put through.

Why is this??? Literally, what was the reason for this

All of the endings fucking suck. I hate all of them. But enough about that, let's move on to the characters

Characterization

Jeckas dad

On the surface he's a kind guy who donates to charity. But he consistently verbally (possibly physically?) abuses Jecka for no reason. Literally nothing can set him off. A flip of the switch type of abuser. We haven't seen Jeckas dad prior to this game, but it's evident he sucks. I'd say he's way worse than Nicole's mom, at least she is sometimes nice and tries to help out. Jeckas dad blows all his money on Emily (a teenager who went to Jeckas school), forces Jecka to get a job and verbally belittles her if she ever says anything to him. Everytime he speaks to Jecka her first response is "don't hit me." Is this supposed to be fnnuy? We see Jecka have full blown sob sessions and panic attacks because of him. If it is supposed to be fnnuy it isn't. It's just sad and scary. There is nothing comedic about the abuse Jecka goes though in these scenes.

Nicole

They did Nicole's character horribly in this. We see Nicole share compassion for Jecka, she doesn't have that at all in this. Her betrayal was the worst for me. It just,,, seemed so out of character for her to do something like that. Nicole literally sacrificed her free school hours by getting in trouble with the predatory school councilor just for Jecka to be able to smoke in peace again. Nicole cares for her, calls her cool and pretty multiple times. She spends all her time with her, and even when she dies in the first game she says "I didn't know Jecka that well, but tell her she's cool for me." The betrayal ruined her character, hell it isn't even her character!! I don't like how she threatened Jecka when Nicole was the one who killed Jeffery. Speaking of, the way she acted with him seemed weird to. She can barely stand sitting near him in the first two games, and she did,, all,,,, THAT with him??? Bullshit. I see so many people say "but Nicole is a sociopath, she doesn't care about Jecka!" Um,,, yes she does? I mean it's pretty clear she does. Jecka is the only person Nicole really cares about. They wouldn't meet in every single route if Jecka wasn't important to Nicole in some way.

Jeffery

Jeffery is weirdly obsessed with Jecka in this game. Yes, we've seen him like and do weird things but not to this extent. He has never acted like this before?? Its like they reduced his good qualities and doubled up his weird ones. Which isn't a bad problem, but it makes his behavior visibly different in flipside.

Mr. Katz

Introduced in the Re up, this game turns him into the worse person ever. Last time all he did was drugs, now he's sexually harassing Jecka and verbally abusing her if she doesn't comply. Then threatening her with her grades. Since he was a minor character at best this could just be a different side of him we haven't seen but knowing how many pedos there already are in this game I don't get why they wouldn't introduce this or foreshadow it in the first two games.

Everyone else,,,

Everyone else seems to be fine, Emily, Ari, Kelly, Kylar, and Crispin to name a few. Thing is these are all side characters, sure they can be important in a few endings but for the most part they don't play a massive role in here besides Kelly and Emily.

This game was advertised as "same comedy, different girl." But there's no comedy in this game, only torture. Maybe Nicole was right when she said life was a sick hopeless game.

Okay, lets talk about the feet.

So,,, what the fuck? What was all that about? This literally took up half of the game, not a fucking exaggeration. Was it really necessary? The devs couldn't think of anything else? They were all really dragged out, it felt like it would never end no matter how badly I wanted them to. I guess you could say this line in the first game was some sort of foreshadowing

This feels like a very poorly disguised fetish. Like blanket ghost costume type poorly disguised. In fact, all of the endings feel unnecessary. Most of these have even more twisted endings than the first two games. What's up with that? It feels like they're trying to filter their audience to people who would actually enjoy doing that type of shit to people.

No, fuck I don't wanna talk about feet.

Here's some random things I want to critic but couldn't fit anywhere.

-The jeckari scene felt weirdly out of place. I could've been cut out and nothing would've changed. It wasn't necessary. Sorry jeckari fans

-What was up with the councilor? I don't mean his voice acting (it was definitely different though, right?) But he was kind of out of character. Like, he had a whole "I'm so important and mysterious (but not actually)" vibe going on. The fuck was up with the riddle? And having a whole fucking warehouse of illegal videos? Yes he's a predatory creep but I don't think he would go that far. Also pulling out a gun and shooting Kelly and almost Jecka felt so,,, what??? He wouldn't

I swear fandoms understand characters more than the creators

-Jeffery is just randomly rich? Out of nowhere? Okay. Whatevers convenient for the plot, I get it

-Why is EVERY single man attracted to kids in this game, it's overkill. Sure people like that exist but they aren't every single person you meet

-Super short, only 3 hours of gameplay. Not worth the $15. The first two games are way better, just get those. Not like this game is worth anyones time. The first game is only $10 for an hour or 2 of gameplay. The re up is $15 for 4 hours

-Nothing felt quotable. Maybe I just haven't seen it enough to memorize half the script but there weren't any lines where I was like "oh haha that's silly to say as a reference." The first two games were filled with quotable lines. Most of flipside is either something about feet or Jecka being abused

-The "thank you" note at the end of the game was kind of immature, I don't really want a thank you for this? Ummmm,, okaaayyyyy??

-You barely even get to play, it's mainly you just watching. The first two games have you actively choosing what to do. Flipside only makes you choose maybe twice

-The whole "They're 18 now!! Look at all the fucked up things we can do to them now!!" is really showing. Stop it. It's still weird

-This game is supposed to be post-graduation, but we still see Nicole and Jecka at school, multiple times. Jecka even says they aren't even in school anymore and yet you can still go back to high school? Yea, who gives a fuck about a timeline anyway,,,

Okay, but was there anything good?

Ehh,, I don't really know. I only laughed at one scene and that's saying a whole fucking lot for a comedy game. The first two games had me dying from laughter, but every single scene in the flipside just felt upsetting. Nothing was fnnuy.

I did enjoy very few things.

-The art has heavily improved. The visuals were nice when they weren't about feet or Jecka being abused

-The hatman scene was the only thing I laughed at, I liked it

-I got pretty excited when I saw that Jecka had an MSI poster in her room. I like MSI so it was a nice little surprise to see

-I liked the tie in with the first game ending. I wish we got to see more of Jeckas reaction after Nicoles death though

-I thought the whole "if god isn't watching, who is?" thing was kinda interesting. But having me listen to a whole monologue kinda killed it for me

-Class of 09 always had super good voice acting, and this doesn't change. All of Jeckas panic attacks sound super real

Overall, would I recommend this game? Absolutely not. I wouldn't even recommend this to an already fan of the series, much less tell someone to start out with flipside. Flipside isn't worth your time or money, it isn't even worth this whole post! That's why it's over

[highinmiamiii]

NO FEELINGS - ch. 1

a billy butcher x reader story

years after a wild love in 90s London, Butcher runs into his past flame at that same grimy Nevada steakhouse he’d told Hughie about. Where he’d wanted to go with Len since they were lads. Tension, unspoken history, and unresolved feelings simmer as both grapple with what they've become.

(A/N): this is just a short little vague introduction. feedback is appreciated as always—let me know what you think! and if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just drop a comment. thank you for the support, i cannot wait to get really started on this. prelude chapter set in 90s london soon…

Butcher slid into the worn leather booth of the topless steakhouse, the place he’d told Hughie about. The one he’d always wanted to visit with Lenny. He wasn't sure what drove him here now, maybe the weight of unfinished promises, or the itch of an unfinished life, maybe a celebration for finally having the key to end this all. Kessler—his ever-present darker conscience—sneered from across the table, leaning back like he owned the place.

“Celebratin', are we? Makin’ a toast to not being a dead man... yet?" Kessler’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Maybe crack a cold one open to that virus, eh? Damn good reason to have a drink.”

Butcher ignored him, waving down the waitress instead. The place smelled of grease, burnt meat, and the faint, familiar scent of desperation—Nevada in all its glory. The steakhouse was a dive. Dim lights, gaudy neon signs, waitresses in barely-there outfits serving patrons who barely looked alive. It felt appropriate, a place where he could fade into the noise and booze.

His mind kept drifting back to Lenny, to the promises they made as boys. But Lenny was long gone, and Butcher was still here. Breathing. Existing. Barely.

“What’s the point, mate?” Kessler drawled, a smug grin tugging at his lip. “You’ve come this far, might as well end it on a high note. Wipe ‘em all out—‘every last one’ like ya said, whoever’s left. Ain’t no room for savin’ the day, Billy. That ain’t you.”

Butcher lit a cigarette, ignoring the imaginary weight of Kessler's presence. He hadn’t come to make decisions tonight—he just needed a moment to exist outside the war he was fighting, the war inside himself.

That’s when the waitress appeared. He barely looked up from his drink as she spoke. A raspy, tired voice offered him a menu, but it wasn’t her voice that caught him—it was the ink on her arm.

There, on her inner upper arm, was a faded “Never Mind the Bollocks” tattoo. The same damn Sex Pistols tattoo he’d drunkenly convinced the girl who he’d thought would be the love of his life to get years ago in London.

The memories hit him like a punch in the gut.

🇬🇧 London, 1990s 🇬🇧

They’d met at some dive punk show, a dingy pub filled with misfits, and she had been the loudest voice in the room. She wasn’t British, that much was clear. Her accent, her defiance—everything about her screamed rebellion. She’d saved for years just to get to London, to live the life she’d always dreamed of. But the reality was different. Money was tighter, dreams crumbled under the weight of the city’s indifference, and the romantic notion of freedom faded with every job rejection and overpriced rent.

Butcher had been drawn to her fire—an American girl with grungy style and stubborn resolve. She reminded him of himself. Bold. Fearless. But unlike him, she still had a dream. That dream had kept her going.

They’d spent nights stumbling through the streets of Camden, getting drunk on cheap lager, ranting about the world’s injustices. And then one night, after too many drinks and too many laughs, he’d dragged her to a tattoo parlor.

“Go on then, love, don’t be a priss, get the ink. Bollocks to it,” he’d slurred. And she had. The tattoo was a reminder of their wild nights, of a time when the world felt theirs to conquer.

But then Lenny had died. His world crumbled. Butcher became a ghost of himself. He stopped answering her calls. Stopped showing up. Not because he didn’t love her—but because the weight of grief suffocated any connection he’d had to the world, to her. Seasons faded, savings ran out, friend groups grew apart and suddenly she was back in the states, no sign of his presence or existence in sight but the small reminder of what they had, or rather, what could’ve been, on her left arm.

He looked up at her now, and something in his chest tightened. She didn’t recognize him—not immediately. He looked different. Older. Weathered. And she? She’d aged too, but there was still a flicker of that fire behind her eyes, dulled perhaps, but not gone.

Butcher felt Kessler smirking at him from across the table, his voice low and mocking. “Well, well... Looks like fate’s a real bastard, huh? Fancy seeing her here. What’s next, a reunion? Gonna sweep her off her feet again? You ain’t that guy anymore, Billy. We both know it”

He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

The waitress set his drink down, her expression neutral, maybe a little bored. But her eyes lingered on him for a second too long. Butcher’s gut twisted. Did she know? Or was it just a flicker of memory, a hint of recognition buried beneath the years?

He offered her a smirk. “Nice ink.”

she cocks her head back, taking a long deep breath, knowing he’s likely noticed by now as much as she didn’t want him to. she’d spent so long trying to erase him from my memory, she felt so foolish for letting myself fall so deeply in love with him all those years ago. she rests her hand on her hip and adjust the very thin white tank top they had her working in, thank god no one had tipped me enough to take it off yet, this place was fucking dehumanizing. even more embarrassing to see butcher here after all these years, she never thought she’d see him again, thought they’d be separated by continent for the rest of time. Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t bite. “Old mistake,” she said, her voice clipped, as if daring him to say more.

“Looks like she remembers,” Kessler snickered in his head.

Butcher leaned back, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Aren’t we all just walkin’ mistakes?” He said with a deep sigh.

She didn’t answer, just shot him a look—a look with all the bitter undertones he deserved. But she didn’t say a word, and as she walked away, he could feel the weight of the past settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Last thing she wants is to hear from you again man” Kessler’s voice taunted in his ear.

Maybe. But for the first time in years, Butcher wasn’t sure he wanted to.

She walked away, heart pounding. She knew. God, she knew the moment she saw him. Those goddamn eyes and stupid cocky wide smirk she’d fallen for all those years ago. The snarky demeanor that kept her going until one day he was gone. The way his eyes widened when he saw the tattoo was a dead giveaway, but it was the way he carried himself—the same stoicism, the same haunted look behind those eyes. Billy Butcher, of course. Great.

She’d spent years trying to forget. And now here he was, like some ghost from the past, sitting in the sleaziest steakhouse in Nevada, looking like death warmed over. Part of her wanted to slap him, to scream at him for leaving, for abandoning her without a word after Lenny’s death. But she knew she had gotten too attached. It’d been what, a year together? How dumb of her to think or believe that it would’ve ever been more than a fling. She had to come back to America eventually, they both knew the jig would be up soon, she just hadn’t expected it to end so abruptly.

So instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat, wiped the grimy table next to his, and said nothing.

This wasn’t London. She wasn’t the girl she used to be. She’d been young, stupid, and hopelessly in love. Now she was just... tired. Working for tips in a place that smelled like old beer and regret, serving men who didn’t care enough to look her in the eye. This was what her life had come to. And seeing Butcher again only twisted the knife deeper.

But no. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt her. Not yet. Not ever.

Butcher watched her walk away, a strange heaviness settling over him. The memories of London were sharp, but the reality in front of him was sharper. She’d changed. So had he.

“So what now?” Kessler whispered. “Stick around? See if you can fuck things up again? You’re real good at that, ain’t ya?”

Maybe. But something in him, something deep and stubborn, made him want to stay. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something worse. Whatever it was, Butcher wasn’t leaving Nevada. Not yet.

He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the back. Whatever had brought him here tonight—fate, coincidence, or just bad fucking luck—he wasn’t walking away from it.

Not this time.

current tags: @sickforbillybutcher

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

how bratty of a partner do you think hwa would like//could handle?

and if you had to rate it on a scale, 1 being barley bratty. 10 being an absolute brat.

Oh I think Seonghwa could easily handle a strong 10/10 brat easily as long as you're tasteful in front of his family and loved ones.

He is a man built for the more brattier subs/switches out there but you just need to be intuitive with what days he can handle being a brat vs can't handle it.

Seonghwa appreciates flexibility so I don't think he'd desire a partner who can ONLY be a brat, he'd occasionally want you to just do as they're told but a strong 90% of the time- he'll enjoy the fight and the chase that comes with it.

And I salute the brat community because it low-key seems exhausting.

and that's coming from someone who deep down knows I have brat potential but I just prefer to be obedient because I'm too chronically burnt out to constantly have to pretend and work for an end result I know we both want.

I'd have to chug three dexamfetamine (prescribed) pills and a litre of coffee just to get the brat energy going so I fully show love to the brats and brat-tamers out there.

I'll tag @almightyddeonghwa because I'm sure he has something to say about this too.

[not-5-rats]

bodie, marco and/or timmy headcannons? maybe?

Hmmm okay, a please would be nice though /j, you didn't specify what kind of hcs sooooo you're getting silly ones :3

!!!Nonsense Gator Boys HCs ^^!!!

Bodie:

He is the only one that can navigate the swamps, nobody else has any clue where they're going

His posture is...not amazing, he's so used to bending down slightly when around Timmy...his posture has never been the same

He enjoys cooking with people, it's a nice way to spend time together

Dude would love Paddington, I feel no need to elaborate

An issue he has is his willingness to put others' needs above his own, it came out slightly when Bug arrived with their injured leg but it becomes very obvious when somebody he cares for is ill. He won't sleep, or look after himself properly because he needs to ensure they're doing alright.

He's fully prepared to die in the arena, he couldn't stand losing anybody else atp...he's ready to throw himself in dangers way at a seconds notice if it means everyone else will be alright

I don't think he could live with himself if he let anybody else die in the arena...if he lost the only people he had left, he'd probably lose himself as well

He has a vast knowledge on which fungi are edible and which aren't

Timmy:

Lost. He's constantly loosing his path, but he always finds his way back in the end

He spends most of his time climbing, whether it be trees, vines, piles of rocks, anything

Adding on to my last point, if you & him were together he would randomly drop from the trees and give you a lil kiss on the forehead/ cheek

Floor time - y'know when you're super burnt out and lie on your back, on the floor, just lie there for a few hours? Yeah that's Timmy

He doesn't always properly analyse the risks of certain activities, luckily he's nimble enough to often get out of these tight situations but he's received a couple injuries due to his impulsiveness

He's so overwhelmed right now, what the fuck is going on with his life. His parents are alive, his mother's a dragon, he's part dragon, Bodie's his uncle...everything is suddenly so different...he feels...lost

At points he wishes the Hunters had just went through with killing him when they found him...things would've been so much simpler then

He makes friendship bracelets, like the bead ones, he puts people's names on them

Marco:

Enjoys the rain, idc what you say, they're a rain lover

Why is Marco fruity? I can't quite put my finger on what type of fruit, but like...undeniably some sort of queer (I love them)

They would have had such an intense emo phase (which then evolved into kinda gothic adult)

They have like a mini museum in their bag, so many random things from such odd places, it's admirable

They could have stopped this from happening. Well maybe they could have, if they were around more maybe there was something they could have done that would've stopped Timmy from being taken...stopped this whole mess from happening

The guilt. It's fucking unbearable. Why did they constantly have to be gone, why couldn't they just stick around for 5 bloody minutes!

They want to change, they want to be there for their friends...but at this point, they feel like it's too late. Bodie and Timmy are so close and now it's revealed they're actually related!...is there even space for Marco anymore...are they even wanted at this point?

They like frogs

[mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse]

Cook Out Blues

Aged up! Bakugou x Black! Reader

_________________________________________

The plop, plop, plop of rain drops against the roof of the penthouse woke you up before the high pitched alarm. You groaned and pushed yourself onto your side, a hand blindly reaching for your husband's phone. You tapped out the code, the date of your first... well date, and tossed the phone back on the side table.

"Mornin' babe."

You felt a large hand run down your side. You hummed and leaned against Bakugou's body, his natural warmth lulling you back into a relaxed stupor that died as quickly as it came on when Bakugou pulled back the blankets.

"Awe, come on! Baaabe-"

"We got stuff to do today."

"But-"

"You can shower first."

You groaned, but pulled yourself out of bed as Bakugou grabbed his phone. You made a beeline to the bathroom, and flicked on the lights. The whole routine of taking off your bonnet and taking down your braids felt pointless. With the rain it was impossible to want to do anything other than stay in bed and watch TV. Your day of grilled hamburgers and fireworks ruined.

Just last week your favorite cousin had come to Japan to visit. Shopping, a cook out, and getting your hair done had been in the cards but waking up to rain...

You turned on the shower and stepped under the hot water. After a nice scrub you stepped out and slipped back into the bedroom. Your husband was gone, but you could hear him humming from the kitchen.

You pulled on a comfy sweat shirt on and some shorts on, and padded to the kitchen. You were surprised to find Bakugou mixing herbs into a bowl full of ground meat. In the living room the TV showed off the news, and the dining table was set.

"Hey babe." You went over and peered into the bowl. "Uh, what's going on?"

He set the spice shaker down and dipped his hand in the meat and began to mix it. "Gettin' your lunch together. Your cousin's still coming, right?"

"Yeah but I thought we'd just order pizza." You pointed to the giant window over the sink. "It's still storming."

"I've still got a stove top." He shrugged. "You whip up those deviled eggs amd I can get us some of that American beer your cousin likes."

You felt your heart warm at his words. Bakugou could be brash and abrasive but sometimes...

With a soft laugh you hurried over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, immersing yourself in the scent of burnt caramel.

"Hey, watch it!" And yet he didn't push you away. "You want cheese in this?"

"Yes please!"

Sometimes he was a dream come true.

[hetchiew]

Okay, it’s been 2 weeks since I posted this:

And I think I’m finally ready to address it! So here goes nothing!

I have been experiencing “unexplainable” symptoms and chronic pain since I was a young teenager (so around 7 years now). I have seen many specialists who will act concerned when they hear my symptoms, run general bloodwork on me, see that every appears normal in that sense, tell me I’m fine, refuse to look into anything further, and then send me on my merry way. I’ve also had doctors see that I have diagnosed mental illnesses & autism, and tell me it’s just anxiety without listening to me for more than 5 minutes. Either that or they’ll refer me to another specialist whom I have to wait up to a year to get an appointment with. And at this point I’ve given up. After years of this, I’m starting to believe what everyone has been telling me. Nothing is wrong with me, and my debilitating symptoms are normal. So what’s the point of going to a doctor to complain about nonexistent problems? I don’t even know why I tried in the first place.

All of this to say, please do not lecture me or fearmonger me about my symptoms. I’ve been desperately trying for literal YEARS to get this shit sorted out. It feels dismissive, distrusting, and manipulative when you go to my asks and tell me that I’m not doing enough for my health, all the while disguising it as worry. I have talked multiple times on here about my struggles with the healthcare system—I have cried out desperately for relief from this pain. And for you to basically tell me you don’t believe me? Don’t believe that I’m trying my best? Don’t believe that I’ve burnt myself out trying to deal with all this? It hurts. It really hurts.

So I’m setting a strict boundary: absolutely no unsolicited medical advice.

You can be worried, sure. But unless we’re mutuals/friends, I will not entertain a conversation about my health with you. I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but I can’t deal with this shit any longer.

My asks are open again, but please be respectful and kind. I’ve been in a fragile place mentally recently.💖

-

TL;DR

Don’t lecture me about my poor health—I’m trying my best🥺😭