#does this count as meta fiction?

[rileys-battlecats]

My apprentice pushed me off a waterfall. AITA?

For some background: I (male, 72moons) am a member of a clan of cats that live in the mountains. For the past 5 moons, I have trained my apprentice, who I'll call M (male, 11moons), in battle strategies, hunting, and other life skills. M is an outsider that my clan very graciously took in 9 moons ago, and he has made no effort to integrate into the clan at all. It is obvious from the way everyone else interacts with him that he is not a good fit for the clan. He is standoffish, and often rude. Despite this, I have worked tirelessly to properly train him into a strong warrior. I don't allow him to get away with any rude or cowardly behavior, and any rule breaking results in strict punishment. I was under the impression that he did not like me, but at the very least respected me. I was correct about the former, but wrong about the latter.

One day while patrolling an abandoned deer track in the territory, out of nowhere, he attacked me from behind. Not only a cowardly move, but completely unprovoked. I, of course, defended myself, and it became something of a scuffle. We ended up tumbling down a hill and into a stream that drops off a sharp cliff into a waterfall. M backed off the edge and nearly slipped off, and I saved his life by pulling him back up to safety. And how am I repaid for this great kindness? He kicked me back, off the very same drop I'd saved him from.

I am now dead and am writing this from the afterlife. I don't believe I did anything to warrant such violent actions from M, but the clan's outcast medicine cat, B (female[?], 94moons), assures me that I brought my fate upon myself for, quote, "being a massive dickbag to [my] apprentice every day". AITA?

EDIT: Yes, I trained M with claws unsheathed, which did result in minor permanent scarring, but nothing that would greatly inhibit his health in his day-to-day life. And if a few harsh words from a mentor are enough to warrant murder from the apprentice, I'll be happy to meet with any of you cowards from the comments irl and we can settle this directly.

(inspired by this post)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Worry not for the Nameless Red Disciple, they just went down to the river to chill with the river turtles!

[thatvampireenthusiast]

on vampires and werewolves in dragonfable

*cracks knuckles* hello tumblrfable it is i, thatvampireenthusiast, here to live up to my username now that i have finished blood and roses in book 3 and i have some Observations, some Thoughts, some Light Analysis about the vampires in dragonfable (and also about the werewolves). general amityvale plotline spoilers but nothing specific.

this is going to be super long but that's what read mores are for! let's go.

we all know dragonfable loves its references, and while the vampires in dragonfable don't reference any one piece of vampire media in particular they are fairly representative of the classic Pop Culture Vampire archetype, with some changes to suit the setting, of course.

dragonfable vampires have the classic weakness to sunlight which is further enhanced by the weakness to the light element that most vampires we seen in game are subject to when you fight them (not all, but most). additionally they are weak to silver, same as werewolves, and while it is generally more associated as a weakness the later it's not entirely unheard of for it to be a vampire weakness, too. other classic vampire weaknesses such as garlic or faith are noticeably absent, and while the later makes sense to a degree as religion isn't really something that plays a huge role in dragonfable, it is a shame that the former was omitted, if only for the potential comedy of it. EDIT: i forgot to mention, it is also implied though not outright stated that the good ol' wooden stake to the heart method works in dragonfable, as that is what raven arms herself with when you and her go to confront frydae when thursday goes missing.

in regards to physical characteristics, the majority of the vampires we see all have the typical red eyes, fangs, and claws. safiria is of course a notable exception to the red eyes rule, having eyes that are more of a gold or topaz, though we do see red in her eyes when she's agitated or upset. another interesting thing i noticed is that, with the exception of frydae, who has been implied to be starving himself to a degree for some time, all of the vampires have what i would consider a healthy skin tone. there are numerous forms of vampire media that depict them as either lacking in pigment or having a corpse-like pallor, though there are also a number that don't. i suppose i just found it a bit funny that my player character was paler than the vampires were. one last note is that safiria is the only vampire we see with wings of any kind in her "human" form, perhaps due to her status as the vampire queen.

ability-wise, dragonfable vampires have the classic speed and strength associated with creatures of the night, and may presumably also have the enhanced senses as well. shapeshifting is clearly on the table as well, since a good number of the vampiric enemies you fight in the game turn into a bat upon defeat, and the way that vampires seem to appear suddenly out of mist at certain points implies that could be a possible transformation as well, supported by how safiria turns into a bloody red cloud during the portion of book 3 where she goes apeshit. what's really interesting to me though is the more atypical ability of blood manipulation, something that is not commonly seen in vampire fiction. elite vampires seem to have the ability to pull the blood from their enemies, if their attack animations are anything to go by, and we outright see both safiria and frydae do even greater feats of blood manipulation over the course of the story. this was a really neat ability to add, in my opinion.

something fun for me that i am very happy they included explicit information on is how one becomes a vampire in dragonfable. magus neron states in bloodwork that while lycanthropy is transmitted though a single bite, vampirism requires a "complete blood transfer." this is further elaborated on in blood feud where it is made clear by lord frydae that turning someone into a vampire involves the vampire drinking the person's blood and the person then drinking the vampire's blood. the exchange of blood as a means of catalyzing a vampiric transformation is not an uncommon method in vampire fiction, and is in fact present in the classic novel dracula. (and i will, of course, be making use of the fact that a bite alone doesn't turn someone for my own purposes. what purposes? yes.)

what is *not* stated in canon is how turning a person into a vampiric *ghoul* works, and how it differs from turning someone into a vampire. however, we don't actually see any vampiric ghouls in book 3 amityvale, nor are there any mention of them, so there may be some early installment weirdness or continuity weirdness going on there for why they're only present in book 1.

a few more general assorted notes before moving on. i touched briefly on elements earlier, and how vampires are generally weak to the light element. what i did not mention is their association with the darkness element, that generally being the element type of their attacks. vampires being associated with darkness of course makes sense, given the whole creature of the night thing. it also leads into safiria being willing to help with the search for a lycanthropy cure, since those infected with lycanthropy (a light-aligned ailment) can't be turned into darkness-aligned vampires. also worth mentioning i feel is how vampires are categorized as undead enemies, which while not unexpected seeing as a good portion of vampires in media are of the undead variety, does imply that being turned into a vampire kills you. which would make finding a cure for the condition interesting. good luck neron.

onto the werewolves! dragonfable werewolves are *neat*. vampires may be my main area of supernatural study, but i also know a good deal about werewolves, as well, and the two often go hand in hand.

i won't be going anywhere near as in-depth with the werewolves as i did with the vampires. they're very much the stereotypical beast werewolf found in pop culture, wolf-like creatures that are only vaguely humanoid and far more animalistic than a mundane human. they're clearly still sentient and sapient, though, albeit to varying degrees.

dragonfable takes the classic "lycanthropy as a virus" angle, though with a dragonfable sort of twist to it. that twist, of course, is the involvement of the light element that makes werewolves light-aligned creatures. this is *not* an angle that is often taken when it comes to werewolves, who are often treated as creatures of darkness just as much as vampires are. by involving light dragonfable manages to give an interesting addition to the classic vampire-werewolf conflict. that's really the part about things that fascinates me the most about dragonfable werewolves, that light element.

otherwise they're just classic horror werewolves. beast-like form, weakness to silver, strong connection to the moon, etc.

now onto something more resembling actual analysis.

while i wouldn't really call the vampires or werewolves in dragonfable *generic*, they due seem to follow general tropes and archetypes. i would say, however, that that's the point. dragonfable isn't a game about werewolves and vampires, but rather a game with vampires and werewolves in it. the werewolves and vampires don't need to be special or unique or different, that's not what they're for. dragonfable uses the trappings and tropes of horror and transformative monsters to further add depth to the narrative of book 3 and to show us another side of the rose. and like a certain number of horror stories, there isn't really a happy ending, as of when i'm writing this. not that i've seen, anyway. the villain is defeated and granted a fate worse than death, and the "heroes" all live, but the joy in the victory is tainted by the sorrow of what was lost to get there, and the maintained status quo of the fear of the unknown in amityvale. there is no immediate fix it or cure. and the rose is still the rose, even if there are good people in it.

it's not really a satisfying ending. which makes me think that it's not an ending at all, but a cliffhanger. maybe there's stuff further into book 3 that gives these characters the closure i feel they haven't got, or maybe there's planned content for future books that will do so. all i can do is hope.

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

Not much of a Tsubaki fan myself but I do have this take: Imagine post-story/CF Tsubaki with glasses. She could totally rock that sort of nerdy/prepy look and maybe it shows that there were actual consequences for using the Izayoi (not super cripplingly edgy, but at least SOME after effects).

She'd definitely look good with them, as seen in some art from the BlazBlue Radio Show!

"I can't help it, I'll tell you~" (machine translated)

I think she could really pull off the ponytail+glasses look, but I haven't seen any art of it.

If it were me personally, though, I think I'm in the camp that would like to have seen Tsubaki's blindness stay as a consequence of the Izayoi, full stop. There definitely would've been ways to write around it and keep her as a capable fighter- we've seen blinded fighters in media before. The Izayoi itself, covered in eyes, using light powers, and capable of Observation, could've acted as a sight aid for her. I think it could've been really cool, and it would've fit into the idea that the weapon had gone from being the death of her/something she couldn't handle to being a part of her, showing her mastery of it and her personal growth.

A change like this would also add more weight to that whole plotline. As things are now, there wasn't a lot of payoff to saving Tsubaki. Like I'm thrilled she's okay, and it's cool to see her master the Izayoi, but it can feel as though nothing changed, we just got a new version of her to play as. As if the whole danger of the Izayoi and Tsubaki's willingness to risk herself in desperation just got hand-waved away.

All of that said... on the subject of glasses... you know what fucking haunts me??

Jin's glasses. We only ever see them during his academy years- not before while he was in the church, not while he was with the Kisaragi family, and nowhere after, not during the Ikaruga War or the C-Series. What is up with the glasses.

I get they're probably just a design choice, but I want a Watsonian answer. Why the glasses. Maybe they're just for reading? Maybe he had temporary vision problems that wouldn't have been diagnosed while living with Celica that he grew out of? Maybe he's wearing contacts all throughout the games? I don't think the story behind them is ever even hinted at, and it drives me absolutely insane.

[venus-haze]

You're My Best Friend (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Homelander was a test tube baby, raised in isolation in a cold, clinical lab. But that doesn’t inspire America, does it? Vought tasks you with creating the idyllic backstory for its hero, and what starts as a limited comic run spirals out of control when Homelander himself demands your help in making the story a reality.

Note: Gender neutral reader, but no other descriptors are used. Based on a request by @crash-and-cure as well as a bastardization of one of the sweetest love songs ever written (sorry, John Deacon!) This got kinda meta? Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, I guess some gaslighting on Homelander’s part? Do not interact if you’re under 18.

When Vought hired you to create their long-awaited Homelander origin comic series, you were thrilled—until they gave you so little information about his childhood to work with, you weren’t even sure you could come up with one comic, let alone the ten they requested. The details about his childhood were minimal, not even a full printed page—a loving mom and dad, played baseball, did well in school, strong sense of justice from a young age, his friends called him “Johnny.” Your requests to meet with Homelander so you could get some stories from the man himself were constantly denied.

You almost considered dropping the project, until you decided to throw caution to the wind and pull from your own childhood and set it in good ol’ generic suburbia. Some of the storylines were based on your own experiences or things that had happened to people you’d grown up with, though you changed enough names and details to not link it to anyone in particular. Except yourself, of course. Using a pseudonym professionally meant you felt no need to change your own name in the comics. Sure, making your cooler fictionalized self Homelander’s childhood best friend was a bit self-indulgent, but no one would know, really.

To your relief, the editors at Vought loved your ideas, making minor changes before bringing the storylines to their comic artists to bring it to life. The result was Finding Homelander: A Boy’s Journey To Be a Hero. The issues flew off shelves when they were first released, ironically praised for their relatability and authenticity. Vought extended your contract, asking you to produce the cartoon adaptation and another ten issues.

Still, in all of that, you’d never met Homelander. A representative from Vought emailed you to let you know to tune in to his interview on a talk show one day, saying that he’d be talking more about the cartoon project on it. You recognized the host, Tracey, always chipper and having some extravagant giveaway for her audience members. Daytime TV was never your thing, though.

“I think what resonates with so many people is how relatable your childhood is,” Tracey said, holding up a copy of Finding Homelander issue #3, where he saved ‘you’ from getting hit in the face with a baseball at one of his games, catching it with ease. It’d been the happy ending to a short storyline of him struggling to find his place on the team and you encouraging him to not give up. “You and Y/N were pretty close, do you still keep in touch?”

“You know, Tracey, not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Adulthood can be so busy, you need to cherish those childhood memories,” Homelander said. “I did give them a call when the comics first came out, and wow, the laughs we had over those old antics of ours. Talk about a walk down memory lane!”

You guessed the bullshitting was all part of the promotional circuit for Homelander. Knowing this childhood of his was your own fabrication, you couldn’t help but wonder what else about him was fake. Maybe he wanted to maintain his privacy, you could certainly understand that. You couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your mind that said it wasn’t so simple, that the narrative Vought pushed was a cover to hide something in Homelander’s past.

“Now, I’ve heard rumors of a cartoon show based on the comics in the making, is this true?”

“It is! I’m excited for this project, getting back to my ‘roots’ so to speak. I’ll be voicing myself, of course, but it’s funny you’d bring up Y/N, because they’ve agreed to voice themself, too.”

“How fun!” Tracey exclaimed over the roar of the talk show crowd’s applause and cheers. “I guess this is the hopeless romantic in me, but I hope this reconnection leads to something a little more. I’m just a sucker for childhood sweethearts!” 

Homelander laughed along with the host’s giggles, “Well, you never know.”

You balked at the television, mouth agape. Surely he couldn’t be talking about you. ‘Y/N’ could be anyone with your same features. Vought had probably hired a professional voice actor for the role and were pushing the authenticity angle. The whole situation felt odd. 

When you checked your work email again on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor. 

SUBJECT: Meeting with Homelander This Week

The email contained a list of days and times throughout the week wherein Homelander would be free, apparently wanting to meet you to thank you for the success of the comic series and discuss upcoming work. Yeah. That last part you sure as hell wanted to discuss too. You responded with the soonest time available, in a meeting room in Vought Tower the following evening. As soon as you hit ‘send’, you wondered what exactly you were getting yourself into.

Anticipation filled your gut as you went about your day leading up to meeting the supe himself. What would he be like, really be like? Was there even a version of Homelander that wasn’t hopelessly manufactured for the masses? You knew then that his upbringing was a lie, and thus stood the probability that so much else was, too. 

When you stepped into that meeting room, you hadn’t been expecting his face to light up at the sight of you. 

“Homelander, hi, it’s great to—“

“No need to be so formal, Y/N! You can call me Johnny, just like old times,” he said cheerfully, in on a joke you clearly hadn’t been aware of.

“Sorry, Johnny,” you said, playing along. “It’s great to see you again.”

He pulled you in for an unexpected hug that you returned. “Figured we should catch up before things really start getting crazy, don’t you think?”

You nodded, your nose brushing against him as you did so. Just as your lips parted to offer an apology, he smiled, shooing away the assistant who’d accompanied him out of the room. 

He sat down, motioning for you to do the same.

“Gotta say, I’m a fan of your work,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s going on, though.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m not allowed to know more about my best friend, our lives together growing up?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together, but considering everyone else around here has their head up their asses, they have no idea,” he said, before lowering his voice conspiratorially and giving you a charming smile. “I haven’t told anyone. What’s a secret between friends?”

You nodded, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention on you. “What do you want to know?”

He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Everything.”

So you told him. Not quite everything, of course, but enough to abate his curiosity. At least for the time being. His interviews were sharper, more specific with details rather than rattling off whatever had been in the comics. You watched in shock as convincing photos of his Little League days were posted to his social media accounts, anecdotes provided by his increasingly frequent conversations–or more like interrogation sessions–with you, but in his style, of course. It was almost scary what the graphic design team at Vought could accomplish, not that you’d ever know how, exactly, as they were all under the same strict NDA that you were.

He started spending more time with you, too, and after a while, it did seem like you were old friends. Part of you flinched whenever you called him Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t even real, but with your complacency, this fabrication was slowly morphing into a strikingly tangible memory. With each conversation, he drew you deeper into the world you’d been paid to create for him until you found yourself slipping up.

You’d been showing him a goofy stuffed monkey on your desk, a cute little thing with big sparkling eyes. A prize for getting two out of three at the ring toss. Probably spent more money winning it than it was actually worth, but it was about the effort, the memories made.

“You remember, don’t you? You won it for me at the county fair,” you said without thinking.

He laughed in agreement, as if he actually had. Except he hadn’t. Your high school boyfriend won it for you a week before graduation. Sensing the mood shift, he set down your prize and looked at you with the same intensity he had when you first met.

“It’s been a while since we were there, huh?” he said. “Why don’t we go back?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Go where?”

“Home.”

With a strong arm around your waist, he took off for your hometown. You could hardly tell which way was up or down, he was flying so high, but he didn’t seem to mind the way you clung to him at all. When he finally landed, you recognized the community baseball field where all of his fictional games were set. 

“Geez, it’s like nothing’s changed,” he said cheerfully.

You looked at him in disbelief. How long was he going to expect you to go along with it? Or maybe the question you should have been asking was, how long were you going to enable him? The end wasn’t anywhere in sight as he took your hand, and you walked him through your childhood, further enmeshing him in it until you arrived at the house you grew up in. 

The middle of the day, no one was home, and so you let yourselves in like you owned the place. Suddenly, the house seemed too small for a man like Homelander to occupy, but he was engrossed in the details of it. He scanned the kitchen, no doubt inspecting the contents of the fridge and cabinets with his x-ray vision. Moving onto the living room, he stared at photos on the wall, the magazines and DVDs that were strewn on the coffee table, giving away your parents’ taste in entertainment.

“Which one was your room again?” he asked.

You swore you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you wordlessly led him to your room. Each step down the hall felt dangerous, as if you were about to walk into a trap. Face-to-face with the closed door, you opened it, standing aside while Homelander looked around, from what you had hanging on the walls to the knick-knacks you’d left behind.

An uncomfortable tension settled over the room when Homelander closed the door of your childhood bedroom. An odd blend of hurt and amusement spread across his face as he observed the way you were eyeing him, body ready to fruitlessly run from him the way a rabbit would a hawk.

“C’mon, after how long we’ve been friends, I would never hurt you,” he said, as if reading your mind. “We’ve been through so much together. I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”

You froze. Issue #9. That was something Vought’s editors had added, claiming a romance angle would make the series appeal to the younger female demographic. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

He slyly backed you into the wall, leaning over you as you slinked down the slightest bit.

“Show me how we did it,” he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. “So clumsy and nervous, I can even feel you…quivering.”

“Homelander, I don’t know what you’re—“

He tsked. “Y/N.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Johnny—“

He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s alright. I know it’s been a while.”

You let him kiss you, sweetly in a way that put your actual first kiss to shame. His lips were soft against yours, his tender movements intentional as he cradled your face, pulling you the slightest bit closer to him when you kissed him back. 

A sense of familiarity settled over you, warm and comforting like pulling a blanket out of the dryer on a chilly evening. Every time it seemed like you were beginning to overthink the situation with Homelander, he drew you back in with the kiss, a more than effective distraction until you pulled away with a dazed smile on your face.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

FFXIVwrite2024 Appreciation Post!

Having just recovered from my efforts at completing FFXIVwrite20224 (organised by the inestimable @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast) I thought it might be a good idea to celebrate just some of the excellent writing produced by the FFXIV Community for the event!

Saturnine by @naejlas-axe. A great piece of writing about an OC doing a piece of writing - it's very meta! Plus I suggested the word for it!

Taken by @kannedia. Semi-platonic piratical parleying. I learned that QPR does not always mean the football team!

Bar by @lilbittymonster. Featuring the Chais, who are some of my favourite characters. This one's on the Archive of Our Own site, but it still counts I think.

Two Heads Are Better Than One by @musesofawolf. Fun with Thancred! Definitely a blog you should be following.

Steer by @johnnylandslide. Alisaie takes a driving lesson with a bit of a FFXV crossover.

Perpetuity by @hares-and-hounds. A brief reflective piece. I enjoyed how the entries tracked the character's story at different ages.

Reticent by @starrysnowdrop. A certain Astrologian has an accurate prediction of future events. Hali is always a joy!

Third-Rate by @elliewiltarwyn. A great scene set at the end of ARR/beginning of Heavensward. Plus extra credit to the writer for producing so much work whilst very poorly.

On Cloud Nine by @autumnslance. A unique perspective on events from an unexpected source.

Zip by @ainyan. A short, but sweet little piece that I really liked. Romantic and just a little bit suggestive.

Stamp by @astrology-bf. A little piece of erotic writing about... well erotic writing of a slightly different kind.

Horizon by @otherworldseekers. A particularly nice piece that takes the prompt and does something unexpectedly romantic with it!

Cellar (free day) by @houserosaire. I really enjoyed this piece. Two refined Ishgardian gentleman have a meaningful exchange in a wine cellar.

Shade by @umbralaether. A wistful, but intriguing piece that I enjoyed very much.

Hackneyed by @irisopranta. A piece of fanfiction about fictional fanfiction. I laughed a lot!

Obviously this is just a small selection of writing from a small selection of writers, but definitely worth checking out. I will post a masterlist of my nonsense FFXIVwrite2024 pieces at some point, but I can't promise it will approach the quality of any of these examples!

[cavegirlpoems]

So. Mechanics for this game I'm working on.

Start with a roughly OSR-shaped set of expectations. Classes, levels, XP-for-treasure, hit dice, etc. That gives you a good skeleton for what's here. There's some key differences.

HP is divided into Flesh and Grit. Flesh is your meat points, Grit your not-getting-hit points. Lose Grit first, then flesh. Then when there's no flesh left, take horrible wounds that might disable or kill you.

On death, you have the chance to come back as Undead. Take a level of Creeping Damnation, and switch your nature out to being undead. So long as body and soul are more or less intact, death is a choice to let go, not automatic. It has costs, though - that Damnation.

Speaking Of, Damnation. Creeping Damnation accumulates point-by-point as your soul is eroded. Each point reduces your Grit by 1. Extremely bad news when you've got no Grit left.

The Plague is a thing. It's extremely bad news. Reduce your healing each night (losing HP rather than gaining if its too bad), and your lost HP counts towards your encumbrance. Don't catch the plague, dumbass.

There's a system to track your reputation with various factions in the world. There's a system to track how much of a bounty the Beast's Empire have put on your head. These can fuck you over if you let them get too bad.

You get XP for rescuing people and for killing named, hated enemies. You get XP for treasure, and claiming bounties for capturing/rescuing people.

It's expected that you'll start hiring followers - mercenaries and servants - to accompany you and work for you. What else are you gonna do with all that cash? Long-term, you'll probably invest in building a stronghold somewhere. There's mechanics for pitched battles, for when those soldiers you've hired have to defend that stronghold.

True Names are a thing. Knowing somebody's True Name gives you power over them. In particular, a lot of magic requires the victim's True Name to work, or doesn't let them save to resist it if you use their True Name. You can also invoke it to make magically binding pacts with each other.

While only clerics can create observable miracles, anybody can try praying. A successful prayer does nothing in the game fiction, but can have useful results on the meta-game level, such as nudging random encounter results.

Magic comes in six schools of six spells - Necromancy (dead and undead things), Hypnotism (the mind), Goetia (true names and binding), Transmigration (the soul and the abyss), Alchemy (the elements and materials) and Hermeticism (raw magic and Wizard Shit). Other uncategorised spells are Hedge Magic.

A lot of mechanics - encumbrance, saving throws, shopping, memorising spells, encounters - are present but dramatically streamlined.

Technically it's race + class, but we're ditching the term 'race' and replacing it with 'nature'; it's about your spiritual nature (mortal, demon, undead, etc) rather than your ancestry. Twelve Natures (mortal human, petty demon, mimic, purified one, lycanthrope, ghoul, homunculus, wormwood grotesque, revenant, ghost, soulless waif, vampire). Eight classes (Cleric, Doctor, Knight, Libertine, Outlaw, Professional, Witch, Zealot). Mix and match and add equipment to create characters.

Anyway, I know visuals sell, so have some visuals.

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 5: Friends to Lovers

Previous Chapter: Reader Suggestions

Summary: A bit of chaotic Deja Vu ensues as the Writer finally gets a handle on this story.

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Chaos, Smut, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Various References to Movies and Television, Lore, Criticism of Fanfiction, Analysis of Fanfiction/Fandom, Meta Fiction, Self-Aware Fic

Note: I KNOW THIS IS REALLY LATE (the dedication post not the chapter, I write on my own time and I'm not gonna apologize for that) so please consider this a chapter dedicated to @undead-supernova for her birthday. Love you August. Thanks for being a little gremlin with me sometimes. Hope you enjoy it.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

You really didn't know how you fit into this story.

You were utterly and sincerely baffled.

But you could say that about a lot of the stories you found yourself in; this one felt like it was just to make you suffer, more than anything else.

"What's on your mind Wanderlust?" Sawyer groaned as he collapsed beside you on the sand. He held out a water bottle--still a bit cold, meaning he'd just come back from refilling them at the caves--which you took with a grateful nod. "You're staring into that fire as if it's about to tell you the meaning of life."

"I think that's exactly what I'm hoping it does," you told him honestly before taking a swig.

"Well if you find out," he laid back with his arms folded behind his head. "Be sure to share with the class."

You rolled your eyes at him and then kept up with your pity party.

To add to the list of things you didn't know: Sawyer was also one of them.

He was a shithead of the first degree, dangerous, shifty, rude, selfish, suspicious...and somehow the only person you consistently talked to here on the island.

You'd actually been sitting next to him on Flight 815; he'd been a little salty but nice enough to let you have the arm rests, even asked if you were alright when the turbulence began and you began panicking.

For all the years that you'd been driving around the states, you'd never been on a plane before; you thought it was karma that some Writer would not only put you on the longest flight in existence for your first go, and then a plane crash for your second.

But you appreciated Sawyer's compassion, and the subsequent companionship that he shared with you. The care. The protection. The no-strings-attached, no-questions-asked nature of your relationship.

"You have a boyfriend back home kid?" he asked abruptly.

Spoke too soon.

"Loaded question," you snorted, thinking back to the many loves you'd had throughout this strange life you lived.

"Always the bridesmaid?"

"Something like that." You kicked his leg. "What about you?"

"Married to my work, sweet pea," he grinned, eyes still closed. He must've heard you roll your eyes at him. "I'm sure you're curious about why I'm asking."

"The question crossed my mind, if you'd like to share with the class," you parroted his words.

"Might've heard through the grapevine that someone has a little crush on you."

"Hmmm." You hoped the judgment and distaste was clear.

"Figure it was my duty as your unofficial big brother to scare them away before they started sniffing too close. 'specially if you had someone back home waiting for you."

"Well, no one's waiting," you huffed a breath. "But that doesn't mean I'm interested in a weird beach hookup either."

"I figured. I'll tell 'em to scram."

"Please don't be rude about it."

His eyes popped open and he pressed a hand to his chest.

"Now when have I ever been rude?" You kicked him again. "Alright, I'll be nice."

"Thank you."

There were a few beats of silence, filled with the crackle of the fire and the roar of waves just a few yards away.

"What are you looking for then?" Sawyer's voice broke through. "If it's not sex or love or whatever. What's got you looking so deep into that fire for?"

"I think..." You took a second, because all of those things were nice. But what did you want? What did you really want?

You inhaled deeply and then turned your gaze back to him with the hint of a smile.

"I think I just need a friend."

October 1985

You know what really sucked for Eddie about this whole fanfiction predicament?

The absolute unpredictability of it.

Just as you'd explained to him, he actually felt like he was playing a constant game of DnD. The only problem--well, one of many problems, actually--was that the Dungeon Master had no plans, didn't know what they were doing, and was making it all up as they went.

Which is why he suddenly found himself back in time once again, practically at the beginning of the school year, after a shitty, hot October day where everything that could've gone wrong did.

"It's almost like this Writer hates my guts or something," he grumbled as he sifted through the disarray in his locker. "Making me repeat my repeat-repeat-senior year over and over again."

He let the irritation fester within him all day until the end of the day so he could complain to you--and you'd hopefully agree to some under-the-shirt-over-the-bra action on his couch as consolation--only to find your trailer dark and your car missing by the time he got home.

"Great, just great," he grumbled and trudged inside.

For the rest of the night, he did what he always did when he was looking for comfort.

Pizza, Television, Recorded Reruns of Port Geneva.

He sat on the floor, worked on his homework, and munched on his large extra-pepperoni for hours, as you and Sam and Bonnie had your misadventures. A little voice in the back of his head urged him to just get up and try calling you whenever he hit the pause button to complain, but he ignored it and instead kept on complaining.

About school, about life, about himself. About never amounting to anything. It was very reminiscent of all the other "talks" he had with you...both the you on the screen and eventually the you in real life.

What he wouldn't give to just have you here right now to talk to, instead of this old habit that he thought he'd outgrown upon your appearance in Hawkins and the beginning of this unending hellscape.

He looked down at himself, at the homework and the pizza, and stopped to ask, "what the fuck am I doing?"

Was he really so pathetic that he couldn't control himself until you could be there? Or Wayne? Or any of his other friends? Had the turning back of the calendar just regressed him into the pathetic person he was before all of this started? Before you set foot into Hawkins?

Eddie got to his feet and hit the eject button on the VCR, fully intending to call it a night, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd just gotten used to.

This crash, however, started a ruckus. Again.

"Weird," he scoffed at the yelling and the dog across the way barking.

But who was he to pass up some good old Midwestern entertainment? Especially after the most lackluster night?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl of junk on the coffee table, slid the box of leftover pizza into the fridge, and stepped outside to get a prime spot on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

He'd just gotten that first drag of his cigarette and really took in the sights when it all made sense.

Or rather, it actually didn't make any sense.

Because he remembered the Mayfields on their porch yelling at the driver and Mrs. Mayfield threatening to call the police. He recognized that powder blue Volkswagen Beetle and the accompanying license plate. He knew, on instinct, exactly when the driver's door opened and the sneakered foot stepped out.

And then there you were. Looking around and begging the Mayfields not to call the cops, making a deal to pay for the damages.

The weirdest thing was that, even though his mind raced to put the pieces together, his heart ached with all of the emotions that he'd been through the first time he'd lived this night when you'd crashed into Hawkins from your adventures across the fictional universe.

But instead of muttering that it was all a dream like he remembered himself saying, he repeated "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck" over again until you glanced over at him with an apologetic gaze that he recognized even from that distance.

All at once, he felt the calm wash over him. That's all he needed from you, one look, and everything began to feel worlds better.

"Jesus H. Christ," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair in relief.

Eddie watched for a few moments longer as you wrapped up your conversation with the Mayfields, and he would've made the attempt to approach you once you wandered back to your car, if he didn't feel the puppet strings of the Writer and their words rest on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to speak them.

So he played the part, as he had gotten used to doing, and jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He called out to you. "Uh...I...know my way around cars, I can take a look at it in the morning. I-if you want. Bang out any dents."

"Seriously? Can you?" you scrunched your nose in the way that made his knees shake. The Writer didn't need to make him do that; even after a few months, he was still pathetic for you. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah no problem," he smiled the friendliest and most welcoming smile he could muster, and then went back inside as your car trudged across the trailer park.

Your door was unlocked when he ventured to your place in the middle of the night.

The Writer, unfortunately--or maybe thankfully--still gave him as many nerves and as much restlessness as he had the first night you were in Hawkins. Or maybe he was just nervous and restless wondering just what new hell there was in store for the two of you? Still he couldn't sleep, so instead of wait for the morning, he just made his way over to discuss it with you now.

He found you sitting atop your bedroll on the blue plaid sofa in your living room.

"Hey Cigarette Porch guy," you greeted him tiredly, reciting the words you originally greeted him with.

"Cigarette porch guy is my father," he didn't hesitate to recall, the moment the two of you officially met fondly etched into his memory forever. "You can just call me Eddie."

You share a smile and then pat the spot beside you on the couch.

"I'd offer you a drink, but uh...seems like I'm starting over again," you sighed. "Unless I can interest you in some good old Indiana tap water."

He shook his head, then closed the distance and dropped beside you.

"So what are we in for this time?" he asked. "I thought I was just in for another shitty day."

"Well," you paused and held your breath, then you grabbed his hand and squeezed. "I woke up in a motel room I didn't recognize and then felt the urge to get in my car and just drive. I felt...excited to go to a new place; I think I even said it out loud. 'I'm so excited.' But inside I was worried that I'd moved onto another world and left you behind."

It was like a pit opened in his stomach; he'd considered it before, your eventual departure. He'd come to believe that you would move onto your next life after some event--a death, a breakup, maybe some happily ever after after 50 years together, if he was lucky. But to lose you without any kind of warning?

"Shit," he pulled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. For your comfort and his own. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

"It's ok," came the weak chuckle as you leaned into his embrace and nuzzled your nose into his t-shirt. "It's ok, we're just...starting over. The Writer is starting the story over; starting over is good sometimes. Maybe they figured out what they were going to do with us, instead of just play with us like little dolls in a dollhouse."

"Well, I'm an expert in starting over so..." he cracked a joke. "I was just thinking that earlier today, actually."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, if it's October again, it means I'm doing senior year for the...what is it...third-and-a-half time?"

You snorted and weakly slapped a hand to his chest, "well how dare they make you experience that fresh hell one more time."

"I guess if we're starting over, that means you can help me figure out how to pass my Civics quiz again," he recalled your first date. Study date.

You shot out of his embrace and grabbed his face in your hands, smushing his cheeks as you grinned, the somber tone in the living room finally dissipating.

"But that's the best part of rewrites," you explained. "You get to live all the best memories with people over again."

You told him about rewrites that you'd been through; stories that generally didn't change and some that changed drastically. He liked hearing the fondness of your voice when you talked about getting to meet so-and-so for the first time again, holding someone's hand, first dates.

"First kisses?" he asked through his still-smooshed lips.

"That's one of the best parts of rewrites," you winked and pecked a kiss against his mouth. Then again and again, until the two of you were smooching all over each other comically like Gomez and Morticia, giggling all the while.

And when it was time to say goodbye, both of you ready to say "hello" for the second first time.

"Hey," you greeted, somewhat out of breath when Eddie opened the door. It was a familiar sight: backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of sodas dangling from your fingers, looking as gorgeous as you always did or at least he thought so. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

He still felt the strong sense of triumph from knowing what your favorites were, even though the nerves of being around you for the first time had dissipated.

There was another kind of excitement now as you bit your lip and winked at him stealthily and made your way inside to get settled in the living room. Of course you knew he knew that pepperoni was your favorite. What the Writer didn't know was that pepperoni wasn't your only favorite, and they didn't know that he'd gotten half-pep, half-mushroom to surprise you.

How would they? He hadn't felt them as he'd called Pizzeria Uno, just those lurking strings leading him to the door once the pizza arrived.

The past few days had gone like this, where the Writer would control some aspect of your lives, and the two of you would test what the boundaries of this fanfiction were. It was a trick of yours, to feel some semblance of control in an uncontrollable situation, especially as things became out of character or too drawn out.

When the Writer seemed to be writing too much exposition about one thing or another, the two of you sat frozen in time. No talking, no movement as the world around you seemed to shift and morph at the will of your would-be-deity.

You'd silently challenged him to a staring contest over breakfast at Benny's as a water stain in the corner of the ceiling got bigger and dingier and became more of an eyesore.

Had Eddie really never noticed it or was the Writer just obsessed with it?

It was happening right now as his attention was drawn to the enticing softness of the sweater you had on...each piece of yarn knitted and woven together with such care, his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out and...

"So..." you cleared your throat. "Homework?"

"Yeah," he agreed, shaking himself out of his story-induced stupor. "Lemme put those pops in the fridge so they get cold first. Dr. Pep--Mr. Pibb?" He scoffed at the unexpected label, a laugh dead in his throat.

"Wh...do you...I thought you liked Dr. Pepper," he questioned.

"Why would you think that?"

"Be...because you got Dr. Pepper at Benny's!"

"If I don't have a choice, yeah Dr. Pepper is fine. But Mr. Pibb is my favorite," you laughed and shook your head in amused disbelief. "There's nothing like a slice of pepperoni and an ice cold Mr. Pibb."

Eddie was sure that there were no strings pulling him this way or that, and based on your body language, it didn't seem like the Writer was doing anything to you either. He racked his brain for a moment, trying to come up with any little tidbit that could prove some outside interference.

But then he realized...had The Writer noticed something about you that he hadn't?

Had he, Eddie Munson, number one fan of Port Geneva's--and you--not noticed that your favorite soda was Mr. Pibb?

Then a thought that didn’t really seem to be his echoed in his head.

What if he actually didn’t know anything about you?

No.

That was impossible.

He refused to believe it. It had to be the Writer who was manipulating things. Right?

He looked at the Mr. Pibb for a moment, then back up at you.

"So, uh," he hesitantly backed out of the living room to head to the kitchen. "Anything else shocking and unbelievable that I need to know about you? If we're gonna be neighbors...or friends...or whatever."

"Or whatever," you giggled, scrunching your nose, then pulled his notebook off the coffee table to distract yourself as you continued nervously. "Uh, ok let's see...I don't think there's anything too shocking and unbelievable that I hadn't told you at breakfast the other day. I'm from Port Geneva, I've been driving around for a while, I like to draw."

You flipped through a few pages in his notebook and then paused and pointed to the doodles in the margins of the page.

"And by the looks of this, so do you," you grinned. "These are cool."

"Cool?" he scoffed. "That...I was supposed to take notes for class and I ended up doodling for Hellfire Club the whole time. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff. You're not interested in any of that. Besides, we're supposed to be talking about you."

"Actually," you looked at him expectantly, "we're supposed to talk about your history quiz. But while we're on the topic of me, and history, and these nerd things in your notebook, I guess one shocking and unbelievable thing about me is that I'm actually a nerd too. I happen to like Tolkien."

It was his turn to shoot you a mocking "oh yeah?"

You rolled your eyes at him and then put his notebook down on the table, then held out your hand as though you desired a handshake. As soon as his palm touched yours, you introduced yourself.

"I actually like Tolkien. My mom got me a copy of the Silmarillion for my sixteenth birthday and if I could go anywhere in any universe, I'd like to see Middle Earth from the tippy top of Erebor. And I used to say that I'd settle for the grand canyon, but I've already been there. So I will accept nothing less than Erebor itself. Now you."

You continued to shake his hand as he spoke.

"I'm Eddie Munson. The first time I read the Hobbit, my dad had dropped me off at the library and someone had misplaced it in the Kids section. And I've tried to get my band to play a rendition of Misty Mountains before, but we can't agree on whether or not there should be a harp in it. If we could even find a harp in Indiana like Thorin's."

There was a sparkle in your eye as you began to say "actually I have a funny story about Thorin and his harp," when you froze.

Eddie watched you and got increasingly worried as you fought some kind of internal battle just behind your eyes. He could see the little changes in your expression, from joyful to nervous to angry, and he reached out to rest his hand on yours and let you know that he was right there.

That it would be alright.

"Why don't," you finally spat out forcefully, slightly out of breath, "why don't we try this? We study a little bit at a time, and as we go, we share a new fact about each other? That way by the end of the night, you'll be ready for the quiz, and we'll be good...friends?"

There was something biting about the word friends, almost like you didn't want to say it.

Honestly, it stung him a little to hear it.

Friends.

Weren't you two supposed to fall in love? Hadn't that been what this fanfiction was in the first place? That this Writer shipped you two together? And shit, even though he knew that he could kiss you once the Writer relinquished control, he was kind of looking forward to having this first date all over again, just like you'd discussed.

But now everything was turning out differently.

Not bad, just different.

It was your turn to turn your hand in his and squeeze, then you asked "how does that sound Eddie? Friends?"

His eyes darted between yours, and he felt the pressure build, the pressure to agree and say yes, as thoughts that the Writer put into his head flew through him at light speed.

"Yeah," he finally spoke. "Friends sounds good."

And friends it was...until it wasn't anymore.

You and Eddie seemed to do all of the things that you did before. Study sessions and Saturdays spent together watching movies and putzing around town until it was time for you to go to work.

Only instead of holding hands and smooching and all of the things that really punctuated the romance in a relationship...there were just awkward, forlorn glances and tingles along your skin when your fingers happened to touch.

God damn, he hadn't had this kind of crush since he was in middle school. The last serious crush he had besides that...was on you.

And it was weird to physically feel all of the effects of a crush on you, thanks to the Writer, while mentally being frustrated knowing that dates and kisses and everything were just around the corner. If only the two of you would be allowed to get over that hurdle.

"It's called a slow burn," you laughed one night when he complained to you on the phone, away from the watchful eye of the Writer. You seemed to be taking the glass-half-full approach, where Eddie just missed you so goddamn much. "And I guess the Writer is really letting us simmer."

"I'm gonna melt if they don't let us be together soon." Eddie complained, semi-seriously, basking in your laughter. "Call me Eddie Mun-stew."

"They've got us in a crock pot," you entertained his joke.

"8 chapters on low," he grinned. "Like Uncle Wayne's famous chili. I just want to kiss you, is that such a crime?"

"Apparently it is."

"What if I've forgotten how to kiss?"

"I sincerely doubt that you have. I'm more worried that the Writer will make it a bad first kiss."

"Like if we bonk heads and I break your nose or something?"

"Oh god, let's not give them any ideas," you groaned. "Look, whenever they decide it'll happen, it will. And it's gonna be great."

"Maybe they won't let me make you think I'm a virgin this time."

"You have to admit, that was hilarious."

"It was not!"

Your only response, which caused him to hang up on you, was to cackle loudly into the receiver.

But the Writer must've sensed the antsy energy between the two of you because it happened.

A first kiss. A second first kiss.

You were actually at the movies this time, instead of on Eddie's couch.

The Writer had given Eddie an incredibly long sequence where he and his pals from Hellfire practiced all of the moves he could have finally made on you now to let you know he might be interested.

First, there was the raising of the armrest between the two of you--exaggeratedly performed by Jeff, who played Eddie, and Eddie, who played you.

Next, there was the meeting of the fingers in the popcorn bucket. Gareth was able to do an uncanny impression of Eddie's "don't take all the milk duds" and the awkward laugh he made as the blush dusted his cheeks.

Then there was the old yawn and stretch, which wasn't awkward at all to have Dave do to him.

"Have you ever done this to someone before?" Eddie snarked, as Dave practically squeezed him against his side. It had been more of a grab than a casual drape of his arm around Eddie's back.

Needless to say, his own execution of the move was a lot smoother.

"And then you just kiss her," his friends said in tandem.

"Gee thanks," Eddie scoffed at them, "I know how to kiss a girl, you shitheads."

Except when it came down to it, he was nervous. Hadn't you told him that the best part of rewrites was having those firsts again? What if it was terrible? What if he actually did break your nose?

"Eddie, are you shaking?" you leaned away from him and looked at him worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Shit, had he been shaking?

"This movie is just," he cleared his throat and glanced up at the screen; thank god he chose something spooky for Halloween. "Really scary."

"Oh...kay," you narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but sat back in your seat.

Then you leaned into him a little more.

And glanced up at him from beneath your lashes.

And he couldn't help but lean a little closer, and duck his head, until his breath was fanning against your cheeks.

Until you inched closer and closer.

And your lips brushed.

Damn, this Writer must've been a hopeless romantic because the kiss was everything they said a first kiss should be. Sunshine and rainbows and birds singing and rockets red glare fireworks at the soft press of your lips on his.

It was here that Eddie realized how much he'd missed kissing you, like...really missed kissing you. You'd taken the task of this rewrite a little too seriously, worried that in some way it might inspire the Writer...or possibly even mess with their inspiration.

The two of you were here now, though, and finally all of that waiting had paid off.

So of course you took advantage of it.

Actually, you were a little more eager than Eddie even was, because your hands were on him immediately. One hand found his waist and the other on his jaw, thumb softly caressing his stubbly skin as your lips pressed together. He liked the firmness of your lips, he liked the way you'd waited for him to make the move before taking what you both eagerly wanted.

Writer be damned.

Eddie pulled you closer, using the arm hooked around your shoulders as leverage, and then tried to use the other hand to hike one of your legs over his--you couldn't be close enough--but the damned popcorn bucket got in the way.

He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at the obstacle, basking in the little whine you made at the loss of contact.

In fact, you both looked down at the popcorn, and then at the screen, then at each other.

And you both must've decided that "fuck it" was the correct response, because soon the popcorn bucket was on the floor and you were giggling into each other's mouths as you melded back into one writing mass of limbs and kisses and caresses.

It was a joy to be reunited like this; there were some moments that Eddie was eager to move his hand this way or that way, but he felt the strings of the Writer pull him some other way. His own signature moves foregone in favor of something that they thought would be better. Fingers inched under clothing and into hair, lips chased down the column of a neck, and a leg was hitched over a hip until you were practically grinding on each other for all the world to see.

Suddenly a light was shined on you and you both froze, then jumped apart in shock. Your shoulders heaved and you turned towards the source of the light.

"Hey!" An usher shouted from the end of the row, getting the attention of the whole theater as they turned in their seats to stare at the two of you with your kiss-bruised lips and disheveled clothes. "Knock it off."

"Sorry," you apologized in tandem and shrunk back into your seats.

In fact, the usher waited until the armrest was securely back in place between the two of you before he left.

Once he was gone, though, you snickered and slyly lifted the armrest so you could cuddle back together.

"It's good to be back," Eddie whispered and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"Ok," you took a breath in and stared at the bed. "So...how do we start?"

Eddie looked at you incredulously and then scoffed.

"You're asking me?" He chuckled and ran a hand into his hair.

"Yeah, I'm asking you," you nodded sincerely and then you gestured up towards the ceiling. "Because clearly they don't know."

You'd been making out on the couch when you'd both decided to take it to the bedroom. But when you got there, things seemed to fizzle out, and now you were just waiting for the Writer's next move.

Actually, the two of you had been waiting for that to happen for a little while. Not that either of you could complain. All of the little scenes that had been written developed your relationship into something worth a story being told about it--dates and cuddling and kissing.

Better than some of the bullshit that the Writer had previously pulled. No bouts of interference or jealousy from Steve Harrington or Chrissy Cunningham. It seemed like a normal relationship, and everything the two of you wanted.

There was still the underlying disbelief and mystery that surrounded you, Eddie's favorite character from Port Geneva, actually being in Hawkins, but in reality the two of you knew that whatever the Writer had planned would truly be a drop in the water when it came to what was actually happening to you.

You'd take this love story while you could get it.

However, the one hurdle that you couldn't seem to get over...was sex.

Well, the two of you could certainly get over it.

It was the Writer that couldn't.

And the cockblocking was getting old.

Making out on the couch, Wayne walked in unexpectedly and ruined the mood. Someone knocked on the back of the van when the two of you were getting hot and heavy parked up at the quarry.

Shit, even phone sex was ruined.

The Writer seemed to be attuned to the two of you now and anytime there was any hint of an arousal to be had, they would be there to effectively crush it.

"Maybe they're just a bad writer?" Eddie shouted upwards, throwing two middle fingers into the air, as though The Writer would know.

"Alright, let's not get too heated," you chuckled and grabbed his arms to pull them back down. "It's probably not as easy as we think it is."

"The dick goes in," Eddie pouted. You stared at him with some sense of disbelief. He was quick to recover it with "and other things happen. I know how to warm a girl up. They should just let us get to it, then it would be easy to put it on paper."

There was a spark of inspiration in your eye at that.

"Alright then, Mister know-it-all," you challenged him, "maybe we should put that logic to the test."

"W-what do you mean?" he questioned. "How?"

"Well, what would you do? How would we start?" you asked in return. "Actually...you admitted to writing a few little stories; have you ever written a sex scene about me?"

Eddie felt the heat build up in his cheeks and you grinned wickedly.

"Oh my god, you have."

"Shut up, ok?" He inhaled deeply, held, and then exhaled his response. "Ok yes but it was once and can you blame me?"

You cackled and did a little shimmy.

"You're smart and funny and gorgeous and I'm in love with you," he explained and then caught himself in shock. "Er, I mean, I..."

He fumbled over his words but your gaze got soft, and you leaned in to press your mouth to his.

It was all the reassurance he needed.

Then he got lost in you. Your lips, your taste, the feel of your hands on him, the feel of you beneath his hands. It was a sensory overload but it was a welcome one. To be surrounded by all of you? He couldn't have written it as well as it was to simply experience it.

That's how he felt about everything he'd experienced with you so far, though. Why should this be any different?

You tugged on his clothes and he tugged on yours. You fumbled to get onto the bed, chasing each other as you scrambled up towards the pillows; you refused to let each other's mouths stray too far though.

"You know," Eddie panted as he pulled away from you to pull his t-shirt over his head. "Maybe the Writer was onto something, though; I really like kissing you."

"Uh huh," you scoffed, your own shirt gone, and you fumbled with the buttons of your jeans. "Do you wanna stop then?"

"Fuck no," he responded and ducked his head to your bare stomach.

His fingers fought with yours on your waistband as he kissed up the softness of your belly, then the dip between your breasts, then up to your neck.

"You know I'm really good at giving hickeys," he muttered into the corner of your jaw. The words tumbled out of his mouth, almost like they weren't his. It took him to realize that they weren't actually his. They were The Writer's. Maybe this was working after all. "Like, really good."

"Put your money where your mouth is Munson," came your reply as your hand slipped into his waistband.

And it was such a strange sensation, maybe just for Eddie, maybe the both of you, when your hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed and he sucked on your pulse like his life depended on it.

Pleasure definitely, and maybe pain; a little mortification and a lot of confusion.

The crescendo of moans from the two of you that your brains said sounded like music but all your ears heard was utter filth. The difference between what the Writer demanded--what they wrote--and what the two of you experience.

And then you released each other, and looked into one another's eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What is this?" Eddie chuckled into your neck. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," you mirrored him. Your free hand reached up and caressed his face, fingers brushing into his bangs. "But I wouldn't do this with anyone but you."

The rest of your clothes were shed, then, and more kisses were shared. You explored each other's bodies with hands and eyes and tongues. He liked the sounds you made when he licked his way down your body and finally got to taste you when he reached your core.

He vaguely wondered what it was the Writer was describing as he found the spots that made you moan and scream and shatter. Was it the heady taste of you? Or the weight of your thigh hiked over his shoulder? The feeling of your fingers in his hair? And then when things were reversed, when he sunk into you? What did you feel? Did you feel the weight of him on your body, the sweet affirmations he whispered into you, or the way your thighs pulled him closer? The need to have him in you and around you?

Did they write about the slow build of pleasure between you? The chase of it as he bucked into you and you pulled him deeper? Did they know the exact moment that your hands reached down to press into the spot where you connected?

What was it that a Writer experienced when the characters they wrote about shared those intimate moments together? Did they feel their own sense of lust at the thought of bodies melding into one another? Did they feel a sense of shame or intrusion?

Or maybe they felt left out? That this love, this experience, would never really happen to them? Maybe it was just some facsimile with their own partner? Or could this only ever experienced secondhand through words written on a page, never to truly be had on their own?

Eddie paused and looked down at you--at the scrunch of your eyes as you touched yourself, as you touched him, and moaned his name--and he did his best to banish the Writer from his mind.

From this room.

Because this truly was something that should only belong to you and Eddie.

Before everything faded to darkness, before whatever "scene" came to a close, you reached your peaks together.

Because strings or no strings, whether the writer existed or not, whether this was real or fanfiction, it was just the two of you.

You and Eddie.

Together.

"I love you."

Next Chapter: Lemon Coming Soon

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[this-should-do]

no dog fr, preston is my main man quite honestly, hes my fav companion and youre 100% correct about how much he got acrewed over, like there is just, So Much gojng on with the two black companions that its really just like jesus christ, like if x6 were not

a) Literally a black man written to be a slave who Supports the poeple enslaving him

b) is assigned to a sole survivor who by default is white to be a traveling companion and obviously receives no actual pay for thos job (because it is a job)

c) is not only a black slave but os also a black man in a role about being big, i timidating, and violent, one of The Big stereotypes aroumd black maleness (and not only that but it is almost certainly a thought process behind it all because until chase in far habor, ever courser we see is a man of color)

d) he also were he to have a companion quest to do with helping him escape the j stitute, it would unless written very specifically, would just come off as white savior questing by default due to the defauly nate ans nora settings who are almost certainly going to be in mind when writing

then i woukd 100% have chosen preston, like not at all to say that preston is anyless shafted by todd (and quite a large portion of the fandom mind you) but for me i have to hand the title to x6

oh more black characters you can add to thr list is father clemmens in diamond city, the nameless black woman in the i troduction with her possible girlfriend?,

and on a list of almost were black you can add momma murphey, which 100% would hit so many yikes boxes, the main ones being magical black person and the drug addiction as written also feels yuck and hits on stereotypes,

like in general todd really did a horrible job writing and representing black people in his game and i am less familiar with fallout 3 and 76 (though i have played both) but i doubt its any better in those games

[sableuhfin]

Dad for one fic recs

catered to my taste since at this point he was more of active presence in Izuku life than Hisashi Midoriya. English is not my first language, sorry for the eventual typos !

Conversations with a cryptid by an AMournfulHowlInTheNight | Words count: 67K Completed

The OG Dad for one fic that crystalised their fanon dynamic. Meta-fiction veiled by conversations between Izuku and All For One in Tartarus. Great commentaries of the manga alongside very entertaining dialogues, great characters' voices and also a nice build-up to the reveal. 

Long Night In the Valley by Marsalias | Words count: 81K Completed

The hero commission, in an hope to kill the potential UA traitor, manages to trigger an escape of the number one hero and a dream battle between century old forces. Fic with the best pacing, I was never bored when reading it. The author created their own one for all users, unique characters with compact but nice backstory with only the equivalent of scrapes from the source material. Also contain the craziest family trees in AO3.

Forgiveness is the Attribute of the Strong by Kaytid | Words count: 152K Completed

AM adopting Young Yoichi and Young AFO after a time travel of the kids from the past to future. Yes, very crackish but listen to me. This fic got genuinely good characterization of Yoichi and Hisashi with backstory and is very funny since the main character is an 11 years old edgelord. It also has an overall touching commentary about the effect of the environment on a child's mind and how it can affect their future as an adult. Also Kaytid is the go-to author for crackish Dad for One fic check out their works !

Internet Friends by Limited_Edge | Words count: 57K Ongoing

AFO was a gen Z kid and now harasses an hero analyst discord group as his hobby to de-stress from supervillainy. Except a new member arrives, and Afo does not realize that it’s the kid he pays monthly child support to avoid going to court. Engaging meta about quirks, cool worldbuilding and OCS. Also contains a touching ( and pathetic ) characterization of AFO. Though the fic deserves a read just for dead-beat father getting unknowingly humble by his 13 years old son. 

All for you by Ginkotracks | Words count: 72K Completed

Alright, it’s a total change in tone. Izuku is born several months earlier than he is supposed to be and All for One has to deal with the aftermath. Good pacing with short chapters, cool medical knowledge and an immortal being realizing the fragility of life by the death of their loved one. 

[userautumn]

You are always 100% right and valid btw. Because like buck and Tommy are broken up, but you also have several interviews released today where Ryan calls Buck and Eddie “brothers” and where Oliver explicitly says Eddie is straight so they will most likely continue to be just friends. So if it wasn’t for Buddie, what was the point in throwing away a relationship the audience was actually behind??

Yeah, this has always been my problem with the idea of Buck and Tommy breaking up and, now that it's happened, I can finally unload all my thoughts.

Listen, my Buddie mutuals are very assured that Buck and Eddie will get together and have this lush and beautiful arc where they settle into a relationship and feel out the kinks in their dynamic and really blend together, and I respect that. I would love to see that happen. But I don't have that same confidence. Don't get me wrong, I DO think Buck and Eddie will probably get together, I just don't think it's going to happen until the last episode of the last season in a way that's more reminiscent of Johnlock "canon" (for those who did not watch BBC Sherlock: John and Sherlock continued to live together and raise John's daughter, but this was revealed in a montage without ever actually seeing them get together, or confirm that they were in a romantic relationship) than anything.

Why? Well, because it's easier to tease your audience than it is to follow through.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Tim is teasing the fandom in a malicious way, and—if nothing else—I know he is very aware of what these boys and the implication of their relationship means to people. 9-1-1 has always handled their relationship with a particular gravitas, and I don't see that changing now. But Tim has been writing Buck and Eddie for years. He knows what gets people going, he knows what this fandom likes to see, and what they'll read into. So why would he rush into making them "endgame," especially if he knows he already wants to take them in that direction? He has no incentive to make it happen Right Now because everyone will lap up what he puts out anyway.

And I get it, because I do love Buck and Eddie's relationship. I love the way they interact with each other and, yes, I will lap up any scene between them. But that's the part I find so draining too. I'm going to be honest, I've never liked a "will-they-won't-they" couple. As a personal preference, I've always liked to have a clear vision of a story's trajectory when I go into it. That's how I write, and that's what I gravitate toward in fiction. So the idea of going through any number of love interests until Buck and Eddie are "ready for each other" (so sick of that phrase. sob.) is literally... exhausting to me, and not in a fun way. Because this is a loop that could theoretically continue on, and on, and on, until whenever the powers that be decide enough is enough.

Sure, Eddie is happy and free now. Great. But he still doesn't know he's Queer. What happens when he does realize that? Does he need to date a guy first in order to be "ready" for Buck? Similarly (because their romantic arcs always run parallel to each other), when Buck fucks and sucks his way through Los Angeles, does he stumble upon a hot girl/guy and date her/him until Eddie's "ready" for him? How many times, exactly, am I going to sit through another love interest until they're on the same page after, by my count, three false starts? You know?

I'm obviously along for the ride. Always have been, always will be, and I fought too hard over the summer to maintain my love for these boys and their relationship to let it waste away now. But I desperately, desperately need Tim to give me something substantial that CLEARLY, and EXPLICITLY indicates IMMEDIATE strides toward ROMANTIC Buddie Canon. And I mean crystal clear. Not "building a thousand words of meta off a single line/moment" clear. Not "this look probably definitely means Eddie was thinking about ripping Buck's clothes off" clear. I mean, I want it so damn clear, a sixty-five year old grandpa with cataracts can see it.

Otherwise I'm just going to get really annoyed.

[wrinkly-walls]

Let's talk motives

Longass rambling scream (1996) meta post incoming

DISCLAIMER I am not taking into account anything that happens in any of the other sceam movies, because they were made later and I think the whole concept of Roman is not interesting. So to ME Billy and Stu did everything without being prompted. Ok that's all :)

In the first scream motives are important in the way that they aren't. By that I mean that there are three (if I remember correctly) "conversations" about Billy and Stu's motives. There's the first one, which starts by Billy stating that it's much scarier if there's no motive and, funnily enough, ends with him giving his "motive" (in quotations because I wanna talk about that later); there's the "don't you blame the movies!" bit, which I counted because I think that it does discuss motives in a way; and then there's Stu's "peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive". The thing about these three conversations is that they, in my opinion, don't give an answer to the question/accusation of a motive.

Let's start with the first one, that I think is the one that tries to get closer to it. As I said, there's two parts to this: first we have Billy saying that motives make things less scary, mentioning Norman Bates (which is sort of funny because Bates did have a motive -sort of. It depends on what you consider a valid motive, as it relies on mental illnes, something that is not rational (and also almost never happens in real life). I think something similar happens in scream, with the question of what is motive, but whatever. I digress.) and Hannibal Lecter. Almost immediately though, he starts to get into the REAL motive, at least for him: his father's affair with Maureen, and his mother's subsequent abandonment of him. What I think is interesting about this exchange is the elephant in the room. Sid asks "Why did you kill my mother?" and that's exactly what Billy answers. We, and Sid, are left with the question "ok, but why are you doing anything else?" Why did he and Stu kill Casey and Steve, the principal, Tatum, the camaraman (and to our knowdlege at the moment), Randy, Gale, and Dewey?

This question tries to sort of get answered later, with Sid's accusation of "you sick fucks, you've seen one too many movies", but it gets shot down immediately by Billy. He seems angry about it too, gets defensive saying that "movies don't make psychos, movies make psychos more creative!". This is not a wrong statement, however it is curious to me that he, of all people, says it, seen as earlier in the movie he says that "it's all just one big movie", and just minutes ago compared his motive with fictional characters. So him so outwardly denying any influence of movies in his motive is strange. I'll get back to this later.

The last conversation is the most direct one, and also the one that I think gets misinterpreted the most. Sid explicitly asks Stu for his motive, to which he answers "Peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive." This, to me, is clearly a joke. (Why? Well, for starters it simply doesn't make sense on a technical level. Peer pressure implies pressure to do something within a group of peers, to fit in or seem cool. Literally the only other person that was doing the murder was Billy, and that's not enough to be considered "peer pressure". It also doesn't make sense with the Stu we see mere minutes before, who is giggling all throught the kitchen scene and even says that "it was fun". Lastly, the sentence is humourous because there is a tendency to blame every bad act teenagers commit on peer pressure. Stu jokes constantly throught the movie, and even in his blood loss-ed state he was just doing that, making a stupid joke.) Many people seem to take this statement to mean that Billy pressured him into doing the murders, and while that's impossible to confirm or deny based on the little screen time Stu has in the movie, based on the fact thet the statement to me is a joke, I personaly don't think that's the case.

Ok, so that leaves us to the actual motives. So if Billy only gives his motive for killing Maureen, denys movies as a reason, and Stu only makes a joke about it, then why the fuck did they do it?

This is the point where I have to say that I think that, in the writing room, they don't have any. The same way as the writers never decided who did each kill, I don't think they really thought about why the boys did their murder spree, at least conciously. However, I think that autorial intent is not the end all be all, and speculating about fictional characters is fun, so I will be doing it either way.

Let's start with Stu, because I think that his reasons are less complicated. He's the one that I'm the most sure did not have a written reason, mostly because he is not as vital to the story (I'm so sorry for saying this he is literally my favorite character but it is what it is). I think that his "motive" is an aglomeration of different things, the main two being his "crazyness"(not actual crazyness as it is more of a legal term that he probably wouldn't apply for but you get what I mean) and his clear infatuation with Billy.

The first is probably the one with more intent behind it, seeing as the Stu we see in the movie acts in ways that support it (he is a serial killer after all). From the start of the movie we see how insensitive he is about Casey and Steve's killings, making a joke about it ("better liver alone!"). At that point in the movie we know nothing about the character, but that moment does come off as very suspicious even on a first watch, that being the joke of the scene. As we move forward we have the scene at the video store, the obvious scene that spells out who the killers are if you're open to the fact that there's two of them, in which we see how he enjoys messing with Randy, smiling and tugging at his earlobe. This is echoed later in the kitchen scene, in which he seems almost unbelivably happy. He plans to kill two of his friends and his girlfriend, acting compleatly normal towards them before the fact. Going back to the start of the movie, Casey and Steve's murders were very sadistic, both on the prelude (the calls and the "game") and the actual act, both of them being gutted. He also shows no remorse for any of it in the end of the movie, only being worried that his parents are gonna be mad. All of this to say that, even if sometimes the fandom likes to ignore it, he is a huge sadist, and that is most likely the main reason why he did the murders. In Casey's murder he also had the fact that she broke up with him, something he lied about, so we can deduce that the situation hurt his ego. The disproportionate reaction to it (murder) just comes to show how little regard he has for other people.

The second part of that I don't think was intentional. If I'm not mistaken Kevin Williamson spoke about it on an interview, stating that he, as a gay man, mostly subconciously put the queer subtext on Billy and Stu's relationship. However, subcouncious or not, it is in the movie (I actually want to make another stupidly long meta post about it), and it's what makes Stu as a character make sense to me. Whatever you think about what their dynamic is like, what is obvious is that this, the murders, are mostly for Billy. It is Billy who has the "motive", it is Billy's girlfriend they are tormenting, and it is Billy who moves the plot forward when he feels like it. All the while Stu seems more than happy to comply, going behind Randy at the video store, trapping Sid at the end of act three, giving Billy the knife whith a bow, going behind him and looking at him. I think that no matter what happened Stu would've become a killer later on, because as I've established he is a sadist, but the reason why he is doing this murders specifically is because of Billy.

Which leads me to Billy. What was going on with him? Honestly, I'm not compleately sure. To him, what happened with Maureen and the '96 spree are inextrincably linked, but I think everyone can see that there's actually not a real connection. Sid is not her mother, so Billy has no "logical" reason to torture her. My guess is a mix of jealousy, hatred/annoyance toward her and the others, the feeling of control, and well, sadisim. The jealousy aspect is pretty straightfoward: in his mind, it is her mother's fault that his mother left, so it is unfair that he has to be without her while she gets to have a mother. Seeing as he's he boyfriend he probably has to see that all the time too, and he most likely can't handle that (we see in the third act that he doesn't handle things not going his way very well). That leads to the control aspect: we have no way of knowing how he was before his mother left, but from what we see, I think that the murders were his way of taking back control after his mom left. He says in the movie that movies don't make psychos, that they make psychos more creative, and I think that the way it translates is in how he decided to take that control back. Of all of the things he could've done, he cose to make "a movie", except in real life. With acts and plot beats, and even a twist. Just murder probably wasn't enough for him, he needed to make something out of it, and what better victim than Sidney, Maureen's daughter. He seems to relish on the fact that he is the one in control of her situation ("you can't pick your genre"). Also, unlike Stu, he seems to actively dislike the friend group he's in, having a sort of disgusted face in the fountain scene, and clearly having a bad relationship with Tatum. He was most likely looking forward to getting rid of them, and exiting the situation as a survivor. Then there's also the thing that killing people definitely turns him on. I've seen a lot of people joke about the "I was watching The Exorcist and it made me think of you" line, making fun of the weird sentiment that watching "The Exorcist" might turn him on, and while I won't deny the jokes are funny, what some people seem to miss is that well, he wasn't watching The Exorcist. He was killing Casey and Steve with Stu. To me it's telling that both times we see him make out/have sex with Sid it's after it's implied he has just killed someone, first Casey/Steve and then Tatum (there's debate about who killed her, but I think that it being Billy just makes more sense time wise and also I don't know how else to explain the eyebrow bounce when he gets to the party). I think that this is something that defilitely affected his motive, and in real life many killers just got off on it (I also want to expand on this in a Stuilly post because there's Implications).

I also think that something else to be taken into account is that these are two white rich teenage boys. The way that they did it has a very strong entitlement air to it. They definitely think that they can get away with anything.

Both Kevin Williamson and Neve Capmbell have talked about their queer implications and how that might've affected their motive, and while I do want to touch on it in my incoming Stuilly Post, I don't think it was as relevant as some might think, or at least not in the way most people think.

In conclusion, Stu did it cause he's crazy and gay and Billy did it cause he's both a control freak and a freak. :)

If you have any thoughts about this PLEASE share them I really want to talk about it (as you can see)

I just wrote two thousand words about this please send help

[picaroroboto]

When someone does a terrible thing, in both real life and in fiction, we as onlookers find ourselves immediately asking "Why?". In real life even an understandable or relatable motive rarely justifies most crimes, while in fiction, we may actually judge evil actions less harshly if they were done with good intentions (or if the perpetrator is hot, but that's another issue)

(forgive me for interrupting my scheduled Fateposting for Zenosposting. again.)

From the moment he first appears on-screen, Zenos is just so dang weird that I think most players' reactions to him, whether they like him or not, is to wonder "Why?" - "Who is this guy, why is he like this, why does he do what he does, why is he obsessed with my player character?" and so on. What's interesting about this urge to know what's up with him is that understanding/not understanding others is a key theme of Zenos's character. He doesn't understand other people or care about their motives, doesn't even really care to try because he treats others as if they're a different species of animal than him, and doesn't even care to explain or justify his own motives until confronted. To him any motive is as good as any other, he's just chosen to live for his own hedonism. Even on a meta-level he resists being understood - which is to say that it's very possible to get a shallow reading of him, "Oh, he's just crazy.", and run with that without ever looking at the deeper level because you've already decided that this perceived insanity doesn't justify his crimes.

This is why it feels like such a huge and meaningful change that his character development in Endwalker is marked by him asking the WoL so many questions - genuinely trying to understand them instead of projecting himself onto them, genuinely trying to connect with another person for the first time.

Now that I reach the end of this post I realize that there's not really any major points here that I haven't made in other posts. When I played Endwalker, I approached the idea of the final confrontation with Zenos with my WoL wanting to ask "Why?" - not that he's looking for a justification, because he finds Zenos's actions unforgivable, but because he's the type of hero who wants to understand even his enemies. Ironically, or fittingly, that need to understand is what keeps him human, from being like the mindless beast Zenos thought he was.

I don't really ship ZenosWoL because I can't see the feelings as being mutual for my WoL, but the desire to understand one another counts for something. His pursuit of the WoL might be what constitutes "love" in Zenos's mind, but as far as I'm concerned, "wanting to understand" another person is what I consider "love".

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

soo hi everyone!! i'm back on my bully essay/meta/something writing!! sort of. i did this.

anyways anyone who's been on this page for some time know how from time to time i have insistently mentioned the parallels between lola and peanut, right?

welp! that was a joke but the time has finally come!! a super-pretentious essay just for the fun of it!! (and also bc i haven't been writing actually argumentative texts in like months perhaps a year, so. yikes, i really need to practice again)

word count: 2.2k WOAH. IM SORRY

i, in my corner, with my monstrous needs. — susan sontag, as consciousness is harnessed to flesh

take this quote both as a title and an anticipation of what is to come. the essay will be distributed analyzing first the dependence of each of them on johnny, to then draw comparisons. i'll make sure to steer as away from headcanons as possible, sticking closely to the source text. obviously, some things' interpretation might be ambiguous, but, you know. your usual occupation hazard.

also, a disclaimer before we start: while they are psychologically complex and there is always a mimetic intention in developing them, these are fictional characters, and, as such, their primary function is to be vessels for different themes, questions and so forth. therefore, i will prioritize meaning and themes over moral implications and similar elements.

i. peanut

for how much i can adore talking about him, the way peanut depends on johnny is very much on the nose; worn on his sleeve, even. in 11:11 minutes of voice lines, he mentions johnny 30 times.

many interpret this as the caricature of a boy crush, but i have reasons to believe it is much less cute than that.

the problem is that, really, more than trying to identify specific situations... peanut seems to rely on johnny for a significant part of what he does. when he does good at dodgeball:

Look at me, Johnny, look at me!

almost like a child calling for his parent's attention to be praised. he calls johnny's name when he's going through hardships, when he's scared or when he's sad.

more than someone he just loves, johnny is a point of reference. whenever there's something going on, whenever he does or has to do something, his first thought goes to johnny; vice versa, what johnny asks of him is his priority.

I gotta tell Johnny! No time. I gotta see Johnny now. Gotta help Johnny. What can I do next to please Johnny? I mean Lola! I mean…

(this also goes in a "negative" direction, envy being the other side of the medal to adoration. especially because, in some way, this reliance on johnny might be felt by him as emasculating, and, being johnny his model of masculinity, adding it to the napoleon complex thing, it's not hard to guess why it can be so unpleasant. we can see this manifest through some of the things he expresses in regards to lola- not as much an interest he has towards her, but the interest he wishes to have from her- which are a bit more different than it might seem at a first glance. but this is a mouseketool we'll need later. still:

Last time I saw her, Lola made eyes at me, not Johnny!

do we really need this part? heh. i'm not sure, but it's always good to point out)

(also, just because, for the purpose of this analysis, it might be useful to specify: while these sentiments are very much implied in peanut's canon quotes, we have no evidence in canon in what measure they are reciprocated by johnny. the fandom has universally agreed that johnny also views peanut as his Best Friend In The World; while in some measure, they must be at least a bit close, i think it is even safe to say, given the caricaturist nature of bully's characterizations, that johnny holds peanut in less consideration that peanut deludes himself into believing. quoting another post of mine, the kids who show some level of obsession towards their leader mention him on average ten or less times (gord mentions derby eight times, parker six times, kirby mentions ted five times). the leaders don't usually make names at all, that much is true; however, peanut mentions johnny 30 times, and, even in front of this proportion, johnny mentions peanut 0 times. just to make that clear)

overall, what undeniably shines through his voice lines is a feeling of general inadequacy, whether about his height, or his strength in front of a bigger adversary. the audios in which he tries to show off range from being disingenuous, to straight up improbable.

crossing what we have until now said, it is not hard to come to the conclusion that he really tries to make up, to fill this empty feeling of inadequacy by taking pride in his role as johnny's second in command.

while i am a big fan of bully's characteristic of having left much content out of the main game, leaving the gamers to dig it up for themselves, i do believe that scrapping some of the stuff that was prepared for peanut is a loss. we have a number of voice lines coming from chapter 3, in which it was heavily implied how important peanut's role as johnny's right hand man was.

for example, much like... all other seconds in command, really, he was to be followed and then fought in the rumble, before you could get to johnny, with the specific duty to cover his back. even his very first scene, the opening cutscene of chapter 3, i believe, is not to be underestimated. most of the other people, as far as i recall, call you when they need it in person; johnny, however, sends peanut. making him, de facto, an extension of himself, almost.

again, you choose the motivation. what is important, from a narrative point of view, is that peanut clings to johnny through these acts of service, almost making it the foundation of his personhood.

basically, he makes it so that, if he can't be of help to johnny, his whole self is fundamentally annihilated, giving himself completely to johnny.

ii. lola

with lola, reading between the lines gets a bit more difficult; first of all, because lola is much less transparent than peanut, her insincerity being a supporting beam of the whole chapter 3. secondly, whether she was done dirty by the creators or not, it is undoubted that being the perspective that of a teenage boy (namely, jimmy, but we certainly, as viewers, are brought to sympathize more with johnny than with lola) with all the prejudices it can bring with itself.

however, it doesn't mean that there isn't anything to work with- quite the contrary, actually. the issue with lola is that there is a certain amount of layers to get through before gaining a satisfying perception of her as a character. still, we're here to try our best, aren't we!

even behind the muddiness of her intentions and the manipulation she shows herself a master at, it is clear from the second we first meet her that what she does is in function of johnny.

to get through this mess with order, we'll start from an easy, measurable numeric information: lola mentions johnny in her audio files 19 times. which, we're assessed, IS a considerable amount.

we have extensively talked about the way her cheating patterns are a strategy not to succumb to the passive role of the girl in the heteronormative, patriarchal prototypical couple (there's a post here breaking down a lot of this stuff, if any of you is interested!!), so, instead of this, i want to focus on what lies beneath that behavior.

ultimately, the whole point is that lola expects and wants johnny to fight for her. whether is it because she feels taken for granted, or just because he can't perceive it if not through grandiose gestures like the rumble- your interpretation will work; she wants to see johnny fighting nail and teeth not to lose her, she wants him to show her that he wants her.

she's all about that attention, and she knows exactly what and how to do to get it. and i think this is especially clear when you compare the moments in which she knows there's no advantage she could go for; when she has understood that jimmy won't fall for her manipulation, when algie and chad leave her unsatisfied, when norton openly accuses her and antagonizes her - she loses her temper, lets go of that sweetened and/or flirtatious voice tone, abandons that specific kind of gesturing. she doesn't care anymore about obtaining something. she was actually angry, and she was actually upset that johnny had disappeared.

in some of her audios, she references johnny with some amount of fondness, as well:

Johnny and I were on the best date ever.

(there is also a voice line in which she says "He told me he likes me because of my personality. Isn't that sweet?"; due to it being a general chatter and not exclusive to one chapter, i assume it is relatively safe to assume she is quoting johnny. however, as i said at the beginning, we're trying to stay as close to canon material as possible, so, do your thing- and i'm open to arguments!!)

a considerable amount of audio files, however (which will lead us to our final point) is about her... calling for help for johnny, or stating, confidently, that he will come save her, or avenge her later.

Someone get Johnny! Johnny's gonna get you for this. Johnny is gonna kill you!

but wait... i have some sense of déjà vu...

You're gonna be sorry when Johnny finds out!

iii. two faces of the same medal

if i had to pick an effective image for a metaphor, i'd say that the thing about lola and peanut is that they are both dogs looking for someone to take their leash; we’re talking here about an exclusive relationship with someone they can rely totally on, someone we’ll call the Other (with a capital o, distinguished from just other. yes it is unnecessarily complicated i’m sorry).

for what my professor would call accidents of history, it happened that both of them found that Other in johnny.

each of them attempts at creating an exclusive relationship with the Other, one foolproof and fundamentally… perfect. perfect in the way that everything works like oiled gears, in the way that every next move is predictable, in the way that any accident will not break the created equilibrium. (even if, in the general sense of the term, lola and johnny's relationship is everything but perfect, it is in the connotation that we have established here. lola is aware that, no matter what she does, johnny will come back around. hell, the very thing that she does is aimed at keeping that balance; specifically, keeping him a bit on the edge, pushing him into a corner where he has to actively make an effort to keep her close.)

they both hide something they are ashamed of, regulating not only their actions and reactions but their very way of existing in the world, in order to keep that gear working, in order to remain in johnny's hand. lola hides that craving for a genuine and stable affection, dissimulating it with the cheating and the fatuous physical demonstrations of closeness; peanut hides his sense of inadequacy and complex of inferiority, by being the tough and reliable second in command.

basically, what they mean to achieve is a sense of security, the safety of not really being the one to lead but, at the same time, finding a purpose, other than a shield from the outside world that they are not willing to concede themselves to. like a... symbiotic relationship?? i was going to say parasitic, but, yknow. the Other does get some advantages, which are, respectively, peanut's acts of service and lola's capacity to boost johnny's pride.

now, of course, johnny is not aware of either of their play. which makes it even better, since, as we already said, both of their approach to the relationship needs some degree of insincerity.

like, i don't deny that johnny might be a good friend, or a loyal one. but he is an oblivious, prideful fuck who can't see past his own nose; he's got a tendency to make it all about himself - which of course goes perfectly with what we said about both peanut and lola making the Other their center, taking up, in a certain way, a passive role in the relationship.

this way, both of them aim at creating with johnny a relationship that is, in a way, codependant and conditional, in which the do ut des (their respective "service" ↔ johnny's guarantee of stability) creates the foundation of the very relationship.

this, of course, brings up the problem of exclusivity; on which, however, i prefer not to delve into too much, as this would bring us to the topic of their antagonism which... isn't really what i wanted to go for, at least not here. (it would risk bringing us a bit too close to my subjective interpretation and too far away from the canon, which i PROMISED i wouldn't do. however, someday i might elaborate on that??? idk , please do lmk if someone's interested around here)

i will, however, show you a diagram (it looks like a triangle- i guess it is, but it is VERY important that it is a pyramid, with a top and a larger foundation) and a quote, to wrap this up bc i think it is already WAY too long and ramble-y lmao. let me know what you think anyway, my ask box is always open <3

it almost feels like a joke to play out a part when you are not the starring role in someone else's heart you know i'd rather walk alone (i'd rather walk alone) than play a supporting role if i can't get the starring role -- starring role, marina and the diamonds

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 5: Science/Fiction

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE

EPISODE 2 HERE

EPISODE 3 HERE

EPISODE 4 HERE

38) Loki looking for Mobius in PIE ROOM Hey... this is starting to be suspicious. is this room actual Heart of the TVA, that we didn´t know about ??? Why does everyone accidentally end up here???

39) Loki Time slipping to the theater room (where he had his first long, table converstation with Mobius.)

I´m gonna cry 😭

40) Mobius/Don casually informing Loki, he´s a SINGLE dad and telling him his entire work schedule (not that it´s important for anything, but Mobius is sooo damn handsome in that blue west!!! ) Also Loki staring at him through the window ?! And then being so distracted by him, that it took him interestigly long time, before he realized / accepted that Mobius doesn´t remember him (AGAIN). And he should have know this right away, because he already talked to Casey/Frank.

41) Loki time slipping to Mobius again (right when he started to be hopefull and Happy, that O. B. will be able to help him.

42) Loki glow up - or Loki fixing himself up, to look sexy not threatening fo Mobius/Don. I mean... this is just straight out of romantic movie, I´m sorry. Interesting acting choice there🤣

43) Loki being very nervous while talking to Mobius/Don.

Mobius: "You live around here, or did you follow me home? ��" Loki: "Oh... no... hahahaha 😅 ... No no. I was... 😳I was actually on my way to the 👉👆👇☝️uh. And... 😨 And I happend to see you, so I... I... I 🫣 just thought I´d just come and say that I´m sorry that I... I... 🥵couldn´t... stick around back there. I was... um... 🤯 I was in a bit of a time crunch. 😅😅😅"

Said God of Mischief.

I´m sorry, but he´s acting here like stuttering schoolgirl with a crush. What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Tom ??? Anyway... I love it xD

44) Mobius dropping everything and forgeting about his two mischievous sons so he can give Loki full attention

45) Wanna buy my wife´s jetski? - oh by the way, she´s long gone, and worst thing about it is the fact, that one of these beauties doesn´t have a rider.

would you wanna ride it with me? let´s jump up on these bad boys

46) "A beautiful union of form and function"

The fact, that Loki remembers that line from S01E02 and that he echoes it back at Mobius, who doesn´t remember him... Like... WHAT? This thing is romantic as fuck. also finaly someone, who will gladly listen to Mobius braindumping about jetskis!!!! YES PLEASE. He deserves it! 💚 they litteraly made for each other!

47) Loki gently helping Mobius/Don through the time door. - while O. B. is struggling with heavy prototype of tempad...

48) "You saved my life, when I first arrived. You saw something in me, that I hadn´t seen in myself."

Can you believe he said that??? Because I don´t. I´m still processing 😭 Also, see? He IS his friend... but O. B. is not. He WILL be (eccept O. B. knows Mobius much longer xDD ) I´m ok 49) "I want my friends back. I don´t want to be alone."

This scene is honestly so tragic. Sylvie helps him realize his true motivations and he looks so desprete. TVA: place, that he should hate is home now. Where he belong. And that´s why he cared so much and tried so hard to save that place. And thing he wants the most are his friends. Their company. (And if it wasn´t obvious, it means primarily Mobius. The man, he called friend several times this season) It´s him, who Loki doesn´t want to lose in the first place.

Loki looks so fucking sad here! I can´t! 50) "It was more about what I wanted."

Not only he says it while we are watching Mobius, but let´s take in the fact, that he says it at all! Like... come on!!! Can´t he be just happy? As soon as he starts thinking that his actions are selfish, Loki will actualy choose what he thinks is better for Mobius and tries to let him go...

The character development in this show is just unbelievable

And finaly: 51) "It´s not about where, when or why. It´s about WHO."

... said Loki, after very, very, VERY long look at Mobius. --------------- Anyway. That´s the check-list. In total, I counted 51 Lokius moment, but if anyone caught something I didn´t, feel free to correct me! the more, the better! 😁 It´s a hella lot of Lokius content. especially since I didn´t expected, like... not even third of it. So yeah. Last part will be kind of a conclusion. I will try to look at possibilities, what could all this mean. What could be the actual intent of writers and filmakers etc. And, simply put it, asking: WHAT THE FUCK 😳

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Fan Fiction: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Not only did Chuck write books about your lives, but a damn musical theater is putting a play on about your goddamn lives. You try to let them handle this one on their own but they're not letting you go, and it's time to bring insurance to make sure you never leave them.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Marie and Maeve are back in the auditorium but Marie is panicking.

"Hey!" Dean exclaims and rushes over to Marie. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," she gasps.

"Why don't you guys calm her down and I'll find wooden stakes in the trunk."

Sam leaves and Dean kneels down to get on Marie's level.

"Is Marie gonna get eaten?" Maeve asks.

"If we're lucky," you glare.

"Nothing is going to happen. Don't listen to her. Marie, look at me." When she does, he continues. "As soon as that curtain rises, we're going to be there to take out Calliope."

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't written this dumb play, none of this would've happened."

"First of all this play isn't dumb." You open your mouth to say something when Dean glares at you. "It's not dumb."

"I thought you didn't believe in this interpretation?"

"I don't. Like, at all, but you do. I need you to believe in it with all you've got so we can kill Calliope and save your friends. Can you do that?"

"Yeah." She takes a deep breath. "If Sam, Dean, and Y/N were real, they wouldn't back down from a fight. Especially my sweet, brave, selfless Sam. There's nothing he can't do."

"I'm not touching that subject," Dean shakes his head.

"Okay, let's do this!" She grabs a dark wig that the young woman was using who was playing Sam. "I understudy Sam. I used this for my one-woman Orphan Black show, last year. it's gonna have to work for Sam." She puts the wig on her head. "Writer. Director. Actor. I'm gonna Barbra Streisand this bitch."

Guess it's time for a fucking show. People pile into the auditorium once the show is about to begin to see this either rock or go up in flames. The curtains are closed so no one sees what's happening backstage. The girl who plays Dean walks past Dean wearing the amulet that Sam gave him all those years ago. You're not sure what happened to that necklace.

"The Samuelt?" Dean asks Marie.

"That amulet is a symbol of the Winchesters' brotherly love."

Sam comes back with three wooden stakes he's prepared for the fight that will happen. He hands you yours, and you yank it from his grasp angrily. All the girls line up and Sam scans them with a frown.

"Wait a second, where's Chuck?"

"Oh, I love him, I do, but the whole author introducing himself into the narrative thing is just not my favorite. I kind of hate the meta stories," Marie says.

"Alright, listen up, girl," Dean announces. "Now, you're all here because you love Supernatural. I know I have expressed some differences of opinion regarding this particular version of Supernatural. Tonight is all about Marie's vision. This is Marie's Supernatural. So, I want you to get out there, I want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and I want you to put as much sub and add text as you possibly can. There is no other road. No other way. No day, but today."

"Did he quote Rent?" Maeve whispers to Marie.

"Now, you get out there, and you kick it in the ass!"

The girls cheer from the pep talk and encourage each other. They all separate to either go backstage or on stage as they get ready. You and Dean stand on one side of the stage while Sam stands on the other side, all with stakes in hand. Marie slips through the curtain to address the audience.

"This is stupid," you hiss at Dean.

"Shut up and keep an eye out."

"Good evening, everybody! Welcome to our production of Supernatural. I'm not gonna lie. It might be a full-on Gallagher show opening up this piece. Uh, those of you in the front rows may want to use the ponchos we provided for you under your seats. You may, in fact, get wet on this ride. Um, I would like to thank the cast and crew--"

"She's stalling. Let's do this," Dean says to Maeve.

"Copy that. Curtain, kids. It's showtime."

The music starts playing, making Marie jump in surprise.

"That concludes our introduction for the night. Everybody sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

Marie scurries on stage as the curtains open. The beginning number of singing your life introduction sounds and the girl who plays Dean steps forward. The song you heard when you first arrived starts playing, and she goes through the song about how John and Mary got together, had Sam and Dean, your mother dying, blah, blah, blah.

Dean seems to be enjoying the song while you're absentmindedly playing at the thing on your neck. You can't fucking believe Dean did this. When did he have time to search for something like this? Has he been planning this for a while? Was Sam in on it? You look over at Sam in time to see the big scary scarecrow appear behind him. Apparently, Dean sees it too because he starts warning his brother who is confused.

"Turn around!" Dean yells slightly lower than the music playing. Sam turns to face the scarecrow who grabs him. This is all happening while the girls on stage act and sing. "Come on."

"Do we have to," you complain. Dean drags you along backstage to get to where Sam is, but the younger brother is nowhere to be found once you get to his spot. "Where the hell did he go?"

The first act ends and goes straight into the next one where Fake!Dean and Fake!Cas are having a conversation on fake phones.

"Okay, you can pop in tomorrow morning."

"Yes. I'll just wait here, then," Fake!Cas sighs.

Another song starts playing which is a solo moment for the girl who plays Cas. You and Dean rush over to Marie who is already backstage. Apparently, she saw the moment Sam was taken.

"What do we do now?" she panics.

"Just, stick to the plan, okay? Keep singing until the scarecrow comes for you."

"Don't die, okay?" you grin and pat her back as you walk away from her.

Marie walks on stage as soon as Cas' part is over so she can begin singing her part as Sam. She is nervous about what's about to happen but is acting like a professional. The scarecrow appears behind Marie to consume her, and that's when Dean jumps into action. He jumps onto the scarecrow, forgetting he's on stage in front of a large audience. Both Fake!Sam and Fake!Dean keeps singing as if this isn't happening behind them. You look to the audience to see one of the members in the front row put his poncho on.

The scarecrow and Dean wrestle before the monster throws Dean across the stage over to you. He slides right in front of your feet, and Dean glares up at you.

"Help!"

"Fine," you roll your eyes.

You twirl the stake in your hands as you walk onto the stage. You're not fucking scared of this thing. You'll fucking take it down before it realizes what's going on. The scarecrow runs at you to tackle you but you quickly move out of the way before he can touch you.

"Missed me!" you laugh.

You jump onto the scarecrow's back to strangle him but he grabs both your arms in retaliation. He uses all of his immense strength to flip you over him and to the front of the stage. You quickly get up and ram your stake into his chest. You turn him so his back is facing the audience and yours is facing the backdrop of the set. You step back from the scarecrow when you see it start to tremble.

The scarecrow explodes in a purple goo substance, covering almost everyone in the audience. A bit of goo gets on your jacket to which you huff out in annoyance. You walk toward Dean and shove the stake into his chest.

"You're welcome," you scoff and walk off.

Silence falls on the audience until the guy wearing the poncho stands up and begins clapping. Everyone in the audience follows suit, and Dean steps next to a starstruck Marie.

"Take a bow, Sammy."

Marie, Dean, and Fake!Dean takes a bow for the audience. It's a good time to take an intermission for the rest of the crew to get ready for the final act. Sam suddenly appears with Ms. Chandler and the other young girl who went missing. It's time to finally get out of this shitty town and back to the Bunker, so Sam and Dean are saying their goodbyes.

"You did good out there, kid," Dean says to Marie.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"You know what? This has been educational to see the story from your perspective. Keep writing Shakespeare."

"Even if it doesn't match how you see it?"

"I have my version, and you have yours."

The light starts flickering to signal it's almost time to go on again.

"One minute, folks. One minute," Maeve announces.

You and Dean walk away from Marie, but she stops him from going far.

"Dean?" She must believe you're who you say you are. "You should have never thrown this away."

She gives him the prop Samulet he noticed earlier. Dean chuckles as he takes it, and he admires it.

"It never really worked. I don't need a symbol to remind me how I feel about my brother."

"Just take it. Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean automatically says.

He quickly realizes it's not Sam he's talking to and blushes in embarrassment. Marie laughs at him before turning to you.

"Y/N, look, I don't know what's going on with you, but the Y/N I read about has a love so strong for Dean that nothing can break it. I just thought you'd want a reminder of it."

You take two steps closer to her before Dean has a chance to do something.

"The last thing I'd want to remember is my lame-ass excuse of a husband."

You turn and walk away, not missing the way Dean's eyes fill with sadness and hurt. What you're saying to him and about him is really hurting him, and that fact brings a smirk to your face. Dean pushes back the tears and walks to Sam.

"You know what, Dean? You were right. Staying cooped up isn't helping us. We need--"

It's as if the universe aligned perfectly because the next scene starts with Fake!Sam and Fake!Dean in the car. They're having a conversation that perfectly fits with what Sam was about to say.

"We need to get back on the road, Dean. Doing what we do best."

"What is that?" Marie asks.

"You're right, Sammy. Out on the road. Just the two of us."

"The two of us against the world," Fake!Sam says.

"What she said," Sam smiles and nudges his brother.

The scene moves onto a different one where all the characters get on stage to sing a cover of Carry On Wayward Son. Characters you know in real life. A girl steps on stage that you're not sure you recognize, but when you do, a smirk grows on your face.

"Who's that?" Sam asks Maeve.

"That's Adam. John Winchester's other kid. He's still trapped in the cage in Hell with Lucifer."

Poor son of a bitch.

"Carry on my wayward son / There'll be peace when you are done / Lay your weary head to rest / Don't you cry no more / Once I rose above the noise and confusion / Just to get a glimpse behind this illusion / I was soaring ever higher."

The song continues as Sam and Dean watch with raw emotion in their eyes.

"Masquerading as a man with the reason / My charade is the event of the season / And if I claim to be a wise man / It surely means I don't know / Carry on my wayward son / There'll be peace when you are done / Lay your weary head to rest / Don't you cry no more / Carry on."

You grab both of their shoulders and fit your head between theirs so they both can hear you above the singing.

"I am so glad I don't have a soul because that was painful to watch."

When you leave, Dean turns to Sam with tears in his eyes.

"Purifying her soul better work because I need my wife back."

x

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