#fuck this stupid right wing country

[an-absolute-nightmare]

me: india is not secular anymore it's turning into a hindu nationalist country :(

my so called liberal and open minded parents: india is not secular anymore it's turning into a hindu nationalist country :D:D:D:D:D

[jabeur]

nah but it actually means so much to see an italian woman of color in a grand slam final like!!!!!!!!!

[halsiin]

Not to vaguepost about dutch politics but we really are in the trenches huh

[conqu3er]

I guess there is no such thing as out running fascism, i don't think there's a place i can move to that would be safe from it

[paskapoika]

.

[ghouljams]

Have some dark fic. Slasher!Gaz took over my mind last night. I gotta stop writing this stuff at 2am, but it's short and sweet.

Cw: stalking, noncon voyeurism, allusions to murder, manipulation, gaslighting, fear/paranoia play, dark!Gaz, dead dove do not eat

"We draw the line where we need to" Price had told him once, and Kyle was drawing it here. Right here. He can look, but he can't touch. He can stand in the corner of your room and watch the steady rise and fall of your breaths. He can enjoy the squish of your chest against the pillow you cuddle. Hell, he can stroke his aching cock at the way you kick off the sheets, the way your panties bunch between your legs, the way you turn onto your stomach to let him admire the swell of your ass. He just won't touch you. Touching you would be wrong. It wouldn't be romantic to touch you like this, when you don't know, when you can't kick up a fuss. Sure he can take pictures, can hold his cock in front of your face and hope you stick out your cute tongue, but to actually press his cockhead against your lips would be crossing the line he set for himself.

Look but don't touch. That's the rule. That's what keeps his butterfly beating it's wings, even when it's abdomen is so securely pinned to the board. Freedom is an illusion he gives you. An invisible fence, clipped wings, a long leash. You can go anywhere you like! As long as Gaz knows about it. And he always knows.

You've moved twice in an attempt to elude your stalker. Changed your phone number four time. Changed your locks three times. He just keeps finding you, you cry to him over coffee. Gaz nods sympathetically, pats your shoulder and gives you a "poor thing." His poor pretty thing, his little doll to play with however he likes. It's so cute seeing you scared.

He likes seeing you open your mailbox and pull out unmarked letters. Hand delivered, only the best for you. You always get this little tremble in your lips, glancing around like he may be waiting in the wings to jump out and scare you. Gaz considered it once or twice, but it felt juvenile, and too likely to attract attention. You needed a more delicate touch, a more long range, long term, plan. Price always said he was one of the best snipers they had. It's really too bad you'll never get to see his skills in action. He could stare down his scope at you all day, watching you check and re-check your locks(as if he doesn't have a key). You'd look so pretty with some blood on you.

It's fun pretending your worries matter to him. A fun little game to go with you to the police station and help you fill out the reports, quietly pulling an officer aside and telling them how you have a history of paranoia and your therapist thought this was the best outlet. He's so sorry for wasting the officer's time(fucking pig) but it makes you feel better. How nice of the officer to let him know they'll probably pitch the report. No sense chasing ghosts.

"Thank you for being so understanding," Gas tells them every time with a smile.

He'll hold you in his arms at the end of the week and shush your crying. Offer comforting words when you sob about how the police aren't doing anything, that they didn't take you seriously, you don't even think they logged the report. Incompetent, Gaz will call them, and you'll sniffle and nod like the stupid little puppet you are. So cute, so sweet for him.

"You want me to stay the night? Watch the door?" He offers, and you hesitate only a moment before nodding. He'll stand over you later and wonder how hard it would be to convince you to move out to the country. Somewhere he could keep you on a shorter leash, with a real fence and bars on the windows. How hard would it be to convince you that you live him? That he wants what's best for you? That it's too dangerous for you to stay in the city?

Well, probably not long for that last one, and with the way you sigh his name in your sleep, not long for the first either. What a silly thing you are crying about him during the day but dreaming of him at night. Although, he supposes you don't know it's him stalking you. It's only too bad he'd have to stop this game once he got you to himself, you're really much more entertaining than the people he sinks his knife into.

[boldlygoingtohell]

In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 6

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: What DID he mean by five? The second meeting.

5.1k words

A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.

Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.

This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school. 

Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute. 

He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set. 

Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago. 

Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music? 

“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.” 

Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call. 

The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport. 

“Last time?” He’d asked. 

“Last time.” She’d repeated. 

“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.” 

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”

“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. 

“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.” 

This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”

“Fucking off is fucking off.”

“Maybe you need to fuck off.”

“I tried, remember?” 

She remembered. Both of them remembered. 

“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Uhhh...”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed. 

“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”

He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint. 

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”

Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”

“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked. 

“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge. 

“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”

“That’s turning your brain to mush.” 

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.” 

Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”

“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.” 

“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?” 

“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”

“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”

Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is. 

It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds. 

Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it. 

The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night. 

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.” 

“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”

Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day. 

“Night, Ecker.”

“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.” 

“Does it matter the order?”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood. 

He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.

Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing. 

His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was. 

With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on. 

Fall Semester, 1984

The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school. 

Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention. 

Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in. 

He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear. 

Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal. 

The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him. 

The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you. 

“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement. 

“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie. 

He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box. 

“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his. 

You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him. 

“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly. 

“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception. 

You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.” 

“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least. 

“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn’t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.” 

Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was. 

“Rookie mistake.” He said instead. 

“Rookie...?” 

Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”

You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”

There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’. 

He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”

“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.

“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”

That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh. 

“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.” 

That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead. 

A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him. 

“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”

You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters. 

Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good. 

Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are. 

“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves. 

“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.” 

If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office. 

Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave. 

Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click. 

Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in. 

He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again. 

Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway. 

Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality. 

“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”

“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”

“In my office.”

Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk. 

“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?

Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween. 

“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out. 

Nothing. 

You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve. 

Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone. 

You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him. 

That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again. 

Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate. 

“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”

You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can. 

“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”

“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself. 

“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?” 

“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand. 

“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”

Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.” 

“Don’t you dare!” 

“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!” 

“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway. 

“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.” 

You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”

Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically. 

“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.” 

“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.” 

“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”

“Rewinding the returns,-”

“Ugh.”

“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”

“Ugh.”

“And cleaning the bathroom.”

“UGHHHHHH.” 

“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin. 

“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms. 

“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and-”

Ding!

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked. 

“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started. 

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped. 

“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”

Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to. 

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. 

Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended. 

You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib. 

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it. 

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder. 

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter. 

“We can handle it!” Steve said. 

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks. 

But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices. 

You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out. 

“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you. 

The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked. 

Part 7

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Please comment and reblog <3

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3

[snovyda]

Why won't you answer any tells about the Azon Battalion and its reach within the Ukrainian Army? 🥺🥺🥺 afraid of your followers knowing your true beliefs? You fascist piece of shit.

I was dealing with some real life stuff, and I have to admit, your first two questions had me fooled into thinking that maybe they were asked in good faith, so I wanted to give a long and nuanced answer.

But I see you're a russian nazi supporter (LOL the levels of projecting you lot do by daring to call anyone else a fascist). And I also started my day with the sounds of missiles being intercepted nearby, so I'm really done. So short facts for you:

1. I have no faintest idea what "Azon battalion" is. If you want to have a gotcha on something, at least try to know what you are talking about.

2. If you meant "Azov battalion" (named after the Azov Sea, on the shores of which it was formed in the spring of 2014), then that one was doesn't exist, either, hasn't existed for about 9 years now. It was reorganised and regrouped multiple times, and many prominent members (some of whom were linked to right-wing groups) have left.

3. What is called "Azov" now is officially "12th assault brigade of the National Guard 'Azov'". It is operating in accordance to laws and, just like all the military, obeys the higher military command of the country and fulfills its tasks and orders. Their current command have spoken up multiple times about the condemnation of authoritarian fascist regimes (one of which they are actively fighting). It is also a BRIGADE, one of many, which is a few thousand people within the whole army of somewhere around a million. I haven't got the faintest idea what you are blabbering on about their "reach" or "influence" as if they are some sort of a "Hydra" spy network or even a political organization. Individually, there are all kinds of people in the army, of course, with all kinds of views, some good and some bad, but they are obliged to comply with laws and rules. You seem to have some cartoon level of thinking (plus a hefty amount of russian propaganda with its often photoshopped pictures and laughably stupid stories) on how a fucking army operates.

My views are very simple: I want the fascist invader to leave my country. I want to not be bombed or killed/raped/tortured/deported (all the things said fascist invader is doing here). I want the occupied territories, where the invaders are currently doing all those things, to be freed. I want to live in a free country with the human rights upheld. Currently the only thing that is defending me is the Ukrainian army. All of its brigades and battalions and regimens and what have you.

So from the bottom of my heart: go fuck yourself, you pro-nazi invader scum.

[mlmxreader]

You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised | Dean Winchester x m!reader [NSFW/MDNI]

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised, Warrant with dean Winchester please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ After ten years of living with Bobby, you decided to join the Winchester brothers with hunting; four years later, things between you and Dean start to get a little more complicated than just hunting partners.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ alcohol consumption, praise kink, swearing, blowjobs, cum swallowing

↳ word count: 1545

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It was such a vivid memory that you could hear Bobby talking in the twilight hours of the night, hushed tone and grumbling with every other sentence, almost as if he had ever regretted taking you under his wing the same way that Rufus had; they were the closest thing that you had to parents, and with Rufus halfway across the country working on a case, it was down to Bobby to keep an eye on you.

But you couldn’t tell who he was talking to, you couldn’t hear who was on the other send of that fucking phone, but you figured that it was likely to be either Rufus or John Winchester - an old friend of his who had a little bit of trouble with his own boys, the youngest of which was the same age as you. 

“It’s time that boy was shippin’ out,” Bobby grumbled, and you knew without seeing him that he was shaking his head and stressing himself out. “And I mean come hell or high water. He’s old enough now, he should be in his own home with a good damn job. Not still bouncing between my place and Rufus’ place… set him up with Dean and Sam? Are you stupid? He isn’t a hunter!”

You waited for the inevitable as you scratched the side of your neck and chewed at the inside of your lip, not really sure how to react to such a suggestion yourself; you had known Dean and Sam since you were kids, but it was different now you were all grown up.

You hadn’t seen them for years, and there was no doubt in your mind that they had changed a lot more than you ever did.

“He smokes and spits and drinks and fights, sure,” Bobby scoffed. “But that’s on me - I let him get away with it and don’t tell him off properly… yeah, no, no, his friends do all look like trouble - but I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less… no, he sleeps pretty much all day and he’s never around at night - you’d think he was a vamp til you saw his teeth… I just… where’s the boy I used to cuddle? He was so little, and such a nice kid… where’d I go wrong?”

You wanted to go down and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault how you turned out; Bobby and Rufus did everything for you, they never gave up on you no matter what you were like.

You could understand why he was so frustrated, but you didn’t want him to sit there blaming himself at all. So, you crept down to where he was in the kitchen, and waited for him to hang up before you hugged him tightly and shook your head.

“You didn’t go wrong with me anywhere, Bobby,” you murmured to him. “You and Rufus are the best dads a guy could ask for.”

Bobby sighed heavily, although he couldn’t help but to hug you back as he frowned. “Ten good years you’ve been with me, kid - and it’s like suddenly I don’t know you no more.”

You pulled away and cleared your throat, nodding slowly. “I’ll go find the Winchester boys. They’ll put me on the right track, don’t worry.”

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Four years, you had been on the road with Sam and Dean, now; you checked in with Bobby and Rufus  as often as you could and went to visit whenever you got the chance, but you were happy with the boys in all honesty.

But it was a slow night tonight, on the way to the next town hoping that there would be a case, you and Dean were forced to share a room, as there were only two left in the motel and Sam was… preoccupied with someone who worked at a local pub. 

“You’re not the only hell Bobby ever raised, y’know,” Dean chuckled, shaknig his head as he took a long swig from his bottle of beer.

You shrugged as you hummed softly, nursing your glass of vodka as if it would last all night. “Yeah, Rufus tried to tell me that - but you know me, I only ever do things that my way… and to think, Bobby thought I was a good boy just goin’ through some phase.”

He grinned, doing his best not to laugh as he quirked a brow. “You? Good?”

“You can’t say much anyway,” you mused. “You’re the only hell your mama ever raised.”

He nodded, pursing his lips slightly as he struggled to hold back the laugh. “Maybe so, but at least I didn’t try and pretend to be good.”

You shook your head as you licked your lips, quirking a brow. “Remember when your dad used to dump you at Bobby’s and we’d sneak out all the time?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were always doing it so I went along - it was only fair,” he pointed out. “But you know how it went down when Dad found out I snuck out… wouldn’t let me have no fun.”

“Don’t worry,” you told him. “Two more years to make it sixteen, then you’ll see - we’ll both have changed our ways.”

Dean put his beer bottle down, crossing the room as he raked his eyes over you, swallowing thickly before dropping to his knees between your legs. “Well, if we only got two more years to make some trouble… why don’t we raise a little hell ourselves?”

You started to chew at the inside of your lip, breath hitching in your throat as you looked down at him and noticed that sparkle in his green eyes; you nodded, which only earned you a playful smack to the side of the knee. 

“C’mon, be a good boy and don’t act coy,” Dean told you softly. “Tell me.”

You nodded again, clearing your throat and almost gulping. “I’m sure we can raise a little hell.”

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs, settling his fingers between them so that he could feel the outline of your cock; gently and carefully, he started to palm it through the dense and coarse fabric. “This okay?”

You stifled a moan as you nodded. “Y-yessir.”

He grinned. “I like that. You want me to keep goin’?”

You couldn’t even stifle your moan anymore, letting it out with a shuddering breath as you raised your hips a little and practically squeaked out for his touch; Dean helped you slowly, pulling your jeans and boxers down to your ankles before wrapping his hand around your cock and giving it a few firm pumps.

With great control, Dean slowly licked a stripe from the base to the tip and hummed softly.

“Don’t stop,” you groaned out softly, and when he finally took you into his mouth, you felt like that was it.

Fuck raising hell, you never wanted the sensation to end; his mouth was so warm and wet, his tongue worked you so expertly and when he used one hand to massage your balls and the other to wrap around your cock and stroke it - fuck.

You didn’t want anything else in the world. Your hand managed to find its way into his hair, tugging at the short brown strands softly as you tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing your eyes tightly shut.

Letting yourself drown in the feeling of his mouth around you. The soft sounds of his mouth as he took every inch of you one bit at a time; his eyes closed as he focused on nothing but making sure that you felt as good as possible.

Even the soft little moans he made around your cock only spurred you on more and more as your breathing grew more ragged and harsh by the second, doing your best not to buck your hips and fuck his mouth as hard and fast as you could.

But fuck, when he started to twist his hand a little bit, you were nearly completely over the fucking edge.

Dean’s movements picked up as he realised how close you were getting, almost desperate to taste your cum in his mouth; his spit and your precum mixing so that his mouth squelched a little around you; you could already feel it coming, your toes beginning to curl in your shoes as you heard him gag and grunt around you.

Your grip on his hair grew tighter as you gently bucked your hips against him, needing nothing more than to know what it felt like to cum in that pretty and smart mouth of his. You buckled, thighs shaking as you yanked at his hair one last time and, without warning, finally came.

To his credit, Dean didn’t stop, still sucking and licking your cock until it was perfectly clean, a long trail of spit from his mouth when he pulled away at last, looking up at you with a massive fucking grin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, wiping sweat from your forehead as you realised just how fucking weak you were from your own orgasm. “You weren’t kidding about raising hell, huh?”

Dean shook his head as he laughed softly. “Nope… but if you wanna, we can keep goin’, maybe see just how far we can get until the morning.”

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare even if it's £1, then please consider making a donation to help Tahani to save her family. Please, every little contribution does genuinely help!

[oneforthemunny]

A song that reminds you of each of your Eddie's + reader- and GO!

ooh wait this is a fun one. ok i had to think about this one but i think i've found them:

boxer!eddie and reader remind me of somethin' stupid by frank sinatra and nancy sinatra. two little black cats in love, and the chorus "and have a drink or two, and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "i love you". i can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before. and though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never seemed so right before."

rockstar!eddie and nepobaby!reader will forever remind me of faithfully by journey. i mean, "and lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be. oh, girl, you stand by me. circus life under the big-top world. we all need the clowns to make us smile. through space and time, always another show. wonderin' where I am lost without you. i'm forever yours, faithfully."

this one is going to be so fucking corny and idgaf!!! but for modern!eddie and mean girl, idk why true love by p!nk always comes to mind. "at the same time, i wanna hug you, i wanna wrap my hands around your neck. you're the only love i've ever known. but i hate you, i really hate you, so much i think it must be true love. just once try to wrap your little brain around my feelings, just once please try no to be so mean."

cowboy!eddie and sweet girl have always and will forever remind me of love is like a butterfly by the one and mother fucking only dolly parton our lord and savior. "love makes your heart feel strange inside, it flutters like soft wings in flight. love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing. i feel it when you kiss me, it happens when you're with me, that rare and gentle feelin' that i feel inside. everyday is springtime, and i am only happy when you are by my side." tbh i could quote the whole goddam song.

bouncer!eddie and bartender!reader this is another corny as fuck on so hold on, but it's you shook me all night long by acdc lmaooo. sexual chemistry through the roof, so much that it's shocking and appalling?? "she was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean. she was the best damn woman that I ever seen. she's one of a kind, she's just mine, all mine." idk it's silly and slutty and fun just like them!

for janitor!eddie and teacher!reader i've always felt like forever by the beach boys is their song. super sappy and romantic and devoted and that's how they are to each other <3 "if every word i said could make you laugh, i'd talk forever. i asked the sky just what we had, it shone forever. let the love i have for you, live in your heart and be forever. forever, i've been so happy loving you."

older!eddie and reader, this one was hard bc i felt like there was so many to chose from, but ultimately i went with the one song that always takes me back to them and that's chemtrails over the country club by lana. the more i listen, the more it's their song bc "go to the market, the kids' swimming pools. me and my sister just playing it cool, under the chemtrails over the country club. meet you for coffee at the elementary schools. we laugh about nothing as the summer gets cool. it's beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me. i'm not bored or unhappy, i'm still so strange and wild. washing my hair, doing the laundry. late-night tv, i want you only. it's never too late, baby, so don't give up."domestic and sweet.

this is also so silly and sweet and the best thing ever but for hockey!eddie and reader i fucking love the song hello, hello by elton john (yes from gnomeo and juliet lmaoooo). "never gonna find anything to change my mind, famous last lines of a fool. hello, hello. my, my, my, what have we here? sniffing all the flowers, running through an autumn shower, compare it to someone else like me." so fucking silly and so romantic like it's them. happy and silly and in love.

and i know you guys are making fun of me and i don't give one fuck bc i know you're about to do it again with this one bc it's coming completely out of left fucking field for these two!! for mafia!eddie and reader... babe i'm saying it, it's i see the light from tangled yes it fucking is. "all that time never even knowing, just how blind i've been. now i'm here, blinking in the starlight. and it's warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. all at once everything looks different, now that i see you. all those years living in a blur. if she's here, it's crystal clear, i'm where i'm meant to go." and listen, i could write a goddam essay on how this is them, both of them. living their lives before, thinking they're content, until they met the other and now they're confused how they were ever without the other. real ride or die shit.

for dom!eddie and sub!reader, i always think of i don't want to miss a thing by aerosmith lol. really bc they're a little chaotic but they really do love each other sm. true soulmate shit. "i could spend my life in this sweet surrender, where a moment with you is a moment i treasure. i don't wanna miss one smile, i don't wanna miss one kiss. i just wanna be with you, right her with you, just like this. and i just wanna hold you close, feel your heart so close to mine, and just stay here in this moment for all the rest of time." overly passionate and lovey and dramatic which is just their style.

[icyminghao]

if you call on me forever, i will come (preview)

pairing: popstar!soonyoung x fem!reader ft. childhood bestfriend!joshua genre: angst, fluff (not in preview), arranged marriage!au warning(s) (for the preview): cursing, mentions of food word count (for the preview): 1.9k

summary: as a result of his entertainment label teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, soonyoung is given an ultimatum: marry the heir of the largest entertainment label in korea and save his career, or risk losing everything he’s built over the last five years.

a/n: just a little something i’ve been working on to make up for the inactivity~~ not sure when this would be uploaded since i haven’t finished it yet ><

Having been in the entertainment industry since he was eighteen, Soonyoung has quite literally been through it all. From the doubtful eyes of the public when he just debuted to the current, decent fanbase he has garnered through all his years of hardwork and determination, Soonyoung has seen it all.

At least, he thought he had.

“What the hell did you just say?” Soonyoung snaps his head to send the CEO of his music label a chill-inducing glare, and Mr. Kang gulps for a split second before returning to his stoic expression.

“I said,” Mr. Kang clears his throat, “you’re to marry the heir of VIBE Entertainment, as per the conditions set by her father.”

The words hit Soonyoung hard, like he’d just downed a bottle of vodka in one go. He resists the urge to launch himself at Mr. Kang. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because,” Mr. Kang sighs, exasperated, “you have to. It’s the only way for our label to survive. You know what our situation’s like, Soonyoung. The CEO of VIBE Entertainment is doing us a mercy here. Just marry the girl, and VIBE will take us under their wing, and-”

“And then what?” Soonyoung snaps, “We’ll just be one of the many companies monopolised by that farce of an entertainment label. You’ll be just another one of his subordinates, another one of his pawns. Is this the path you want?”

“I mean, just look at what the fuck you’re doing here.” Soonyoung runs his hand through his blonde locks in pure frustration. “I have a fucking girlfriend. You’re just going to upend my life to live out a shitty future? This is the twenty-first century, man. You’d think we’d have gotten over the stupid ‘arranged marriage’ cliche, huh?”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Mr. Kang raises his voice, his gaze hardening. “Do you think I haven’t considered the consequences of this for you? For the label? For me? I’m doing this because we have no other choice-”

“I have my fans. I could work something out,” Soonyoung reasons, pacing about Mr. Kang’s tiny, cramped office.

Mr. Kang laughs with no emotions behind his eyes, and Soonyoung is just now noticing the pure exhaustion manifested in his horrid dark eye circles. “Your fans can’t do jack shit, and you know it.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything in reply, because Mr. Kang is right. His record label had been struggling when Soonyoung first debuted, and silly, naive, eighteen-year-old him thought he could change that. Thought he could be Mr. Kang’s hero, thought he could save the label with his immaculate talent.

Fast forward to five years later, and the label is doing so much worse after suffering the effects of supporting an average pop star for half a decade. Hell, he can’t even bear to call himself a pop star. Five years down the rocky road to stardom, and he’s barely produced enough hits to even be considered a household name in the country, let alone the world. He knows Mr. Kang is right. They’ve been backed against the wall, and there’s only one way out.

Breaths evening out as he calms down, Soonyoung shuts his eyes so tight it feels like his sockets might pop out. Letting out a sigh in surrender, he slowly opens them and inhales deeply.

“How long do I have till it happens?”

You think you might just be Soonyoung’s biggest fan.

You’ve been with him on his journey to stardom since he debuted, and you’ve been a loyal fan since. You’d even talked to him once, when your father’s secretary brought you to the set where Soonyoung was filming an interview with a magazine.

Which is why your mind is reeling right now. Your father’s secretary, Joshua, had just informed you of your impending marriage to Soonyoung, and you’re both happy and taken by surprise.

“He… agreed to this? Willingly?” you ask, doubt lacing your voice. Joshua simply nods in response, before letting out a huge smile and stepping closer to you.

“This is really big, y/n,” Joshua grins toothily. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and launch yourself into your childhood best friend’s arms, squealing.

“I know, Shua! I’m just, really surprised he agreed to this willingly. I mean, I feel really bad since this is, like, being forced upon us and all, but maybe he remembers me from the time we met at the N Magazine shoot?” you ramble in complete disbelief. “God, Joshua. What if he doesn’t like me? Or I don’t like him as a person? We’d be so miserable, maybe it’s not too late-”

“You know you can’t change his mind once he’s set on it, y/n.” Joshua sighs, gently grabbing you by your shoulders to ground you. “Besides, what’s not to like about you? The only thing you should be worried about is whether or not you’ll like him.”

You break out into a dopey smile, touched by Joshua’s kind words. “Aw, Joshie, are you flirting with me now?”

You see a hint of panic flash through Joshua’s widened eyes, but his phone beeps with a notification before you can call him out on it.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot,” Joshua says after pocketing his phone. “You have a dinner with him tonight.”

You’re late to the dinner.

Which clearly would not give Soonyoung a good impression of you, you realise, as you silently pray for Joshua to drive faster.

In your defence, Joshua had only informed you about the scheduled dinner barely an hour before it was supposed to happen, and you were at your office in your father’s company building sorting out some PR stuff for a newly-debuted boygroup, so you had a grand total of about forty minutes to prepare yourself for the dinner. Which, after reducing the travel time to your apartment to get ready and to the restaurant, left you a whopping ten minutes to spare.

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, at least ten minutes late to your first official meeting as a soon-to-be married couple.

You don’t even realise when Joshua finally pulls up in front of the restaurant, and he has to gently nudge you to snap you out of your stupor.

“I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done, okay? Everything’s going to be fine,” Joshua smiles softly, reassuring you with honey laced in his words. You shoot him a nervous smile, bidding him goodbye as you scramble out of his car and into the restaurant.

The restaurant is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You guess you’re considered a child of nepotism (a “nepo-baby”, as Joshua calls it), yes, but you’d stopped relying on your father’s black card to get by, instead depending on the pay you earn from your job (which technically comes from him since you work at his company as the PR team leader of a newly-debuted boygroup, but it’s still your money nonetheless) that honestly isn’t much, but you get by, so you couldn’t ask for more, really. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t really do fancy restaurants, hence your surprise.

Your first thought is that this restaurant is overwhelmingly bright. The place is decked out with so many chandeliers, and there are so many utensils laid out on an empty table for two you’d think there were at least five people having a meal there. You briefly glance at an occupied table and wince upon seeing the measly portion of the food, knowing you’ll probably have to get takeout later.

Your second thought is holy shit, Soonyoung’s right there, and he is ethereal the moment you spot him a few tables in front of you, seemingly lost in thought in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. He’s dressed to the nines in a crisp navy blue button down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black slacks, and his hair is nicely slicked back with a few strands framing his face, your heart nearly stopping at the sight. He makes eye contact with you as you stand there like a total idiot and looks away before you beam at him, like he didn’t recognise you.

Right, you think, he probably doesn’t recognise you considering the last time the both of you interacted had been four years ago. You take a deep breath and mentally psych yourself up as you walk over to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung looks visibly confused when you stand in front of him, and you don’t know if you should be amused or offended.

“Hi,” you begin, “I’m y/n.”

As if a switch was turned on the moment you introduced yourself, Soonyoung’s gaze hardens, and you feel yourself shrink a little under his piercing eyes.

“You’re late,” he practically spits, venom lacing the two simple words.

“I’m sorry, I got here on short notice, I only knew about this like two hours-”

“Save it, I don’t really care. Let’s just get this over with.” Soonyoung grumbles, not even bothering to hide his eye roll. Hurt flares in your chest, and you timidly take the seat across from him.

“Um, so, I think we’ve met b-”

You’re cut off once again as Soonyoung closes his eyes and sighs in visible frustration, his breaths becoming quicker. “Look, uh, y/n, I have no intention of being, like, friends with you or whatever, okay? You folks sprung this up on me like I’m some kind of object, so you can’t expect me to act like all of this is fine when it’s really not. Let’s just get this dinner over and done with and go back to our expiring freedom, yeah?”

“Soonyoung, but you… agreed to this. Willingly,” you protest, confused at the rude tone he’s taking on.

Soonyoung scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at you. “I have a girlfriend, y/n. Why would I accept this willingly?”

You don’t talk after that, and just like that, there’s an unspoken agreement that that was the end of the conversation for possibly the entire dinner.

Your food arrives, in portions made for children just like you expected, and you eat in silence, willing yourself to stay calm. Maybe he’s just having a bad day, you try to reason, blinking back tears.

Or maybe, the voice deep inside of your head pops up, you’re doomed to be in this loveless marriage forever.

You jolt out of your trance as your fork clatters to the floor with an ear-piercing sound, and you smile sheepishly at the neighbouring diners who had turned to see what the commotion was. Picking up your fork and laying it on the table, you decide that you’ve probably had enough for the day.

“It was nice, uh, meeting you. I should go now,” you purse your lips together and try your hardest to not burst into tears in front of Soonyoung, though if he notices, he gives no indication. You stand up and leave after a few seconds of silence, feeling increasingly suffocated.

As soon as you step out of the restaurant, you let out a huge breath, the first tear slipping out of your left eye. Through your blurred vision, you see Joshua stepping out of his car, hurrying over to you.

“Oh my god, y/n,” he frets over you, swiping your tears away with his thumbs. “What did he say to you?”

You continue sobbing as Joshua wraps his arms around you, leaning your head on his shoulder as you shake uncontrollably. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s get you home, hm?”

You nod in between sobs, letting your body go limp as Joshua walks you to his car.

The ride home is silent, your mind clear of all thoughts but one.

You’re doomed to live out the rest of your miserable life with a man who cannot and will not love you. Not now, and not ever.

a/n 2: i hope this was okay!

taglist: @slytherinshua @xomingyu @belladaises @pepperonidk @tastymintchocolate @smilehui @dahliatopia

masterlist

[rogerdeakinsdp]

so i've fallen down a rabbit hole of watching videos of foreigners travelling and/or moving to russia, and i need to rant bc even my mom is tired of me talking about, every time we're in the kitchen together she's like "have you found another one?" and i'm like "yeah 😔" ........ anyway

i'm not saying there's something inherently wrong with the people who choose to come to russia, especially after february 2022, but i'm not not saying it. i definitely don't trust them, and i assume they're right wing until proven otherwise. most of the people who come stay in moscow/st petersburg, none of them travel outside of the european part and GEEE I WONDER WHY. none of them are poor and most of them have questionable politics to begin with

there's this one american guy who tours TYPICAL/LUXURY supermarkets in russia and out of all of them he's the most popular right now. and even if he understands the concept of currency and how the exchange rate actually works, most of the commenters don't. "a liter of milk is only 80 cents" first of all, that's 950ml AT BEST, could be 800 or 750, and that's not cheap. "coffee is only 5 dollars" 450 for instant coffee is a lot. "look at these shelves in the middle of all those sanctions. does it look like the people are starving????" if you don't understand the details of sourcing produce don't draw stupid conclusions. like sure there's bread and milk and local meat because it's local, there's less variety and everything is more expensive, but there's still some stuff. you have to look at cosmetics, cleaning supplies, fruits and veggies, oils, cookies, drinks, alcohol. the first wave of sanctions that really hit the stores was in 2014 and you weren't there my guy. and even now like the pads are so expensive, and you get chinese brands that aren't as nice, and i can't get my favorite oral b dental floss anymore

there's another american guy who went to the grocery store to buy some pastry, 2 fruity drinks and 3 bottles of water. "omg just 11 dollars" 1100 is expensive!!! you can get like 25 different kinds of pasta that will last you months! "had lunch. only 30 dollars" 3k for a lunch that's just some vareniki and pirozhki?????? are you insane???? "just 30 dollars" fuck off. and the people he meets.... there was one girl from krasnoyarsk, and he asked "is that in the asian part of russia?" and she was like "that's in the middle of russia, asia is far way" GIRL WHAT THE FUCK???? you should know better. nobody thinks of western siberia when they say "the middle of russia" they mean central russia and you know it. krasnoyarsk is in the asian part of russia

there's another american guy who moved to russia to raise his family because russia is more like what the god intended, and they respect family values here and all that right wing bullshit. he sold his what looks like a $400,000 house in the states SO OF COURSE EVERYTHING IS CHEAP HERE YOU STUPID FUCKING SHIT!!!! "they have organic food here, no gmo, even the milk here isn't pasteurized" all milk in stores is pasteurized you dipshit!! "there's no racism here, they treat immigrants really well" because you're american!!!! they don't treat people from central asia, or indigenous peoples, or people from the caucasus the way they treat you!

there's a dutch guy who was surprised that russian people wash their hands when they come home and i don't know what to say????? you don't wash your hands???? gross

there's a japanese guy who also doesn't understand currency. "everything here is cheaper than in japan or finland" yeah i wonder why russia is cheaper than those first world countries, is don't even know why....... and he went to crimea in the last two years.....

there's a korean girl who mostly just vlogs about going to museums, and going to cafes and making food, and it's pretty boring, and she even acknowledged that her experience of russia is different from someone who lives here and it all depends on your economic situation, age, social status, your circumstances, and i just watch her videos looking for something inflammatory which is ?????? but there will be something 👁👁 why did you come girl???

there's another korean girl who went to the red square in a fur coat and no hat in december, which is suspicious........

there's a number of pretty unmemorable foreigners who are like "all my family told me not to come to russia, yet i'm here anyway, i'm gonna try to survive here because i like a challenge" go solve climate change if you like a challenge! knowing that living like me, better than me, with more money than me, is a challenge to someone is truly something..... GO HOME!

many of these people say "there's no restrictions on freedom on speech or freedom of expression, the media lied to us, i'm just a normal guy who wants to live my life with my family, i don't care what the government is doing" you're so stupid. you're so privileged. the commenters on these videos are full of right wingers, people are openly racists in them. it's just a cesspool of awful people.

"people are so nice and welcoming" because you are from the west!!!!!!!

JUST GO HOME!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE????

[mothbart]

hurts just right

introducing mothbart who has quickly become my favorite monster. this was literally supposed to be a fuckin' microfic but tell me why it's over 3k. anyway, this is for @sixlane, who came up with this meetcute. thank u for spending time talking to me about mothbart. and thank u to @theapocryphaofantares for also entertaining this idea with me.

bartylily | mothman au | words: 3.5k

The first time that Barty saw her was when she hit him with her car.

It was the one night that he decided that maybe walking around would be better—he’d been flying around all day and he got lazy. Walking was less work than flying.

But see, Barty knew better than to just walk along the road or even near the road. He was a cryptid, for Christ’s sake, and the most well looked for, too. They even gave him a sick nickname—Mothman. Not the most original name, but humans love it and who was he to judge? People come to West Virginia all the time to try and spot him, but he was pretty good at keeping himself hidden. So imagine his surprise when he thought he could just cross the road to get to the other side of the forest without getting caught and then being slammed into by a car.

The impact made him roll over the hood, and Barty felt his soul leave his body. He truly thought at that moment that this was it, this was the end and he supposed he lived an alright life. He didn’t really get to do the things that he had hoped for—like maybe go around the country and explore a bit. Or maybe actually see if sasquatches were real.

Then he realized that he was fine, he was clearly being dramatic. It takes more than a fucking car to bring him down. But he was annoyed—because who the fuck drives without their lights on? Especially at night? And on a road with no streetlights? He wanted to give whoever a piece of his mind, maybe even try and traumatize them a little—teach them a lesson. As much as he wanted to, though, he knew he needed to get out of there before whoever this was saw more than they should’ve. Barty quickly got up from the wet pavement, groaning while standing up. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that his wings were fine, and when he extended them out a little, he let out a sigh of relief when there wasn’t any noticeable damage.

He felt his head, touching his antennas, and grumbled to himself when he felt that his left one was bent. He hated when that shit happened—not that he’s been hit by cars often. But his antennas were the most painful to try and put back into place when they’ve been bent. Inhaling a deep breath, he yanked his antenna and pulled it straight, flinching when there was a sharp pain that ran through his head.

He brought his attention over to the vehicle, and the hood of this ugly, old green piece of shit car was very much dented (served them right for being an absolute moron). He blinked a few times when the car lights suddenly turned on (a little too late for that), practically shining right into his eyes.

And when he was able to focus better, Barty could’ve sworn that his heart fell out of his chest when he laid eyes on her.

Sat there was a girl frozen in place with a horrified expression. Large, green eyes stared back at him, and he could tell that she was not only freaked out but also intrigued by what she saw. He watched as she slapped her hand over her mouth, clearly needing a moment to process what just happened before she was struggling to get her seatbelt off. He wanted to see more of her looks—get a real, nice close up of her and make sure that he’s not being fucked around with by some kind of deity. There was no way that someone as beautiful as her existed, but here he was, being proved wrong.

He had to get out of there before he decided to do something stupid—like casually introduce himself and maybe ask her to hit him again to see if he was hallucinating.

So he took off before she could get out of her car.

☾ ☾ ☾

Barty saw her the next morning.

After he bolted out of there, he perched himself on a tree a few miles away. He checked himself, making sure that there weren’t any major injuries other than a few scratches here and there. He was exhausted at this point, and who knew that getting hit by a car would take so much energy out of him. He made himself comfortable on the branch and allowed himself to fall asleep.

When he woke up, he figured he should at least go check out the area where he got hit. He’s not sure what compelled him to make him want to go back—it just felt like he was being pulled there, and it was a feeling that he hadn’t felt before. His wings weren’t sore anymore, so flying out there wasn’t too bad.

He landed on a tree that was closer to the road, where he had a clear view of everything. He could see that there was a car just parked in the middle of the road, and it wasn’t the one that hit him last night.

Two people were standing outside, looking around at the opposite side of the forest.

“—I swear to God, James, I know what I saw—”

“Lily, I’m sure it was a deer or something. It was late—”

“Deer can’t fly, James,” the girl snapped. When they both turned around, Barty recognized the girl right away.

And she looked fucking ethereal when she didn’t look scared out of her mind. The sun made her red hair glisten and it fell over her shoulders. Barty could see the scattered freckles covering her arms and face. She looked annoyed, and when Barty looked at the guy next to her, he could see why she was annoyed.

He looked like a douche canoe.

“Listen, it was dark outside, you forgot to turn on your lights while driving,” the guy—James—said. “I’m sorry that there’s damage to your car, I told you that you could borrow mine while you search for a new one.”

“I don’t care about my car,” the girl—Lily—said. “I just want to find what I hit.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find it,” James replied, sighing. He walked over to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. “Come on, Lily, let’s go.”

Barty watched as James shut the car door, and Lily just stood out there, staring into the woods as if Barty was going to come out and say hello.

He wanted to—you know—say hello, but he knew better and stayed put. Lily shook her head and turned around, making her way to the car and getting inside the passenger seat. The two of them drove away, and Barty rolled his eyes.

“You’re never going to see her again,” Barty told himself. “Get real.”

☾ ☾ ☾

Barty saw Lily a couple of days after the incident.

It was late at night, the stars were out and the frogs were croaking loudly. Barty had just finished scaring off some annoying teenagers away from the TNT bunkers, and he was hoping to have some peace and quiet but that clearly wasn’t the case.

Because in front of him was Lily.

Lily wearing a baby pink tank top and a pair of shorts.

Barty wanted to devour her.

She had a look of determination and irritation on her face, and he couldn’t detect a single ounce of fear radiating from her. It was kind of freaky because he’s never had someone just not be scared of him.

Her flashlight was right on him, shining on his fuzzy chest and he watched as Lily slowly brought the beam of light up to his face. Her gaze was intense, and Barty still could not understand how she wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, it was more becoming like he was afraid of her. He's confused, because she seemed afraid when she first saw him, but now looking back on it, it was probably more like she was scared that she hit something rather than what she hit. How could she not be terrified of him? Was it the antennas? The red eyes? The fucking wings? He knew they could be fucking goofy looking but come on.

Either way, this was a first.

“Uh,” Barty said, tilting his head, bringing his hand up to try and block the light. “Did you need something?”

Oh, God. Barty wanted to smack himself in the face. Out of all the things he said, that’s what he picked? He literally had a fucking goddess standing in front of him, and he already made himself look like an idiot. Not only that, but this was his first conversation with an actual human in years. He spent his time talking to himself or talking to a large toad that he named Evan. So, this? Talking to a beautiful girl like Lily? It was a curse and a blessing.

“I hit you with my car,” Lily stated.

“Yeah, you did—Sorry, are you not freaked out right now?”

“Am I supposed to be afraid of some weirdo dressed up like a moth?”

“Excuse me?” Barty asked, glaring. A pretty girl with a pretty feisty mouth on her. He can work with that. "You think I'm a what?"

"A weirdo?"

"Who the fuck are you calling a weirdo?"

“You can’t expect me to think that Mothman is real.”

“You hit me with your car and you’re insulting me?” Barty asked. “Where is my apology, huh?”

Lily walked up closer to him, the flashlight held in her right hand. She was tiny compared to him, the height difference was throwing him off. She shoved her left index finger on his lower chest.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what? That you fuckin’ hit me with your car?”

“No,” Lily replied, rolling her eyes. She put her hands on her hips, the flashlight pointing towards a tree. “Prove to me that you’re real.”

Oh, she’s bold.

“I don’t have to prove you shit,” Barty said. “You should know better than to be in the woods at night alone, princess.”

“My friends have my location, so if you’re thinking about kidnapping me or murdering me, I wouldn’t try it.”

“What? You’re the one who came after me,” Barty replied. “If anything, I should be the one worried since you’re the one stalking me.”

“I’m not stalking you,” Lily scoffed. “I just wanted to figure out what I hit, and now I know it’s some guy dressed up like Mothman. Are you wearing stilts under that suit?”

“I am Mothman,” Barty deadpanned.

“Yeah, okay,” Lily said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Anyway, I’m heading back to my car now, so don’t even think about following me.”

“What car? You totaled it when you slammed into me.”

“It’s my friend’s car,” Lily replied. “Not that you need that information.”

“So then why did you give it?”

“You’re nosy,” Lily pointed out.

Barty snorted. “I’m nosy? You’re the one who is giving out information left and right.”

“Whatever, grow up, look for a new hobby, and stop dressing up like a fake creature,” Lily said. “And maybe look both ways before crossing the road or you’ll get hit again.”

“Maybe you should try driving with your headlights on.”

Lily ignored his comment and turned around. She started to walk away from Barty, and she waved behind her, saying goodbye.

And for some reason, that one gesture pissed him off. He’s never had anyone just wave him off like that, or even insult him like that in five minutes. He couldn’t help it though—his eyes wandered straight to her ass. He watched as she kept walking away until she was out of view, and the only thing that kept replaying in his head was:

Lily had a nice fucking ass.

He never took himself as that kind of cryptid—one that drooled over humans or fantasized himself with one. He couldn’t deny what was clearly a fact: Lily was hot.

And look, Barty was aware that he explicitly said that he wasn’t going to prove Lily anything, but after watching her just walk away like he meant nothing was a slap in the face. He knew exactly what he was going to do and how he was going to do it.

He waited a while before figuring that Lily was in the car and was already driving down the road—she wasn’t that deep in the woods. He started to flap his wings and when he got good momentum, he ascended into the air and looked around once he was above the trees.

And there she was—driving that stupid car that she was in earlier when she came there with James.

He glided over to her car, hovering over it and keeping up with the speed of the car. He decided that now was the best time to just go for it—do what he’s known best for. He obnoxiously landed hard on the roof of the car and let out a laugh due to the thrill of scaring someone off.

However, his laugh was cut off because what he wasn’t expecting was for Lily to slam on the breaks.

Barty, losing his balance, flew off the top of the car and hit the pavement, rolling multiple times before finally coming to a stop. He let out a loud groan and fluttered his eyes closed.

“—Oh my God, are you okay?” Lily asked, running out of the car. She crouched down next to Barty and frantically started hovering her hands over him. It was like she couldn’t figure out where to start looking for injuries, but also taking in that he was clearly not human. “You’re such an idiot!”

“How are you so fucking normal about this?” Barty asked, voice cracking. He looked up at her and the headlights shining on her made Barty think that Lily was an angel, but so far her actions had been pretty demonic, in his opinion. She was in a state of panic, her eyes searching Barty’s and he could tell when it finally clicked for her.

“Oh,” Lily gasped, shaking her head and moving away from him. “Oh, you’re actually—”

“I told you,” Barty said.

“You flew on top of my car!”

“It’s not your car.”

“Does that really matter right now?”

“It does, because you hit me with your actual car, and now your friend’s car is fucked up, too.”

“And who is to blame for that?” Lily muttered. She took a deep breath and scooted closer to Barty, and this time, she was taking him all in. Her eyes wandered from his face, to his wings, to his chest, to his legs. “Jesus, Mothman—”

“Barty,” he said, trying to sit up. Lily grabbed his arm and used all her weight to pull him up gently.

“What?”

“My name is Barty,” he told her.

“Okay, Barty,” Lily said calmly. “It looks like you have some cuts on your legs, and I can look at them and clean them up if you want.”

“Nah,” Barty said. “They’ll heal on their own.”

“Wait, really?”

“Perks of not being human, I guess.”

“God, I can’t believe I hit Mothman with my car.”

“Maybe don’t go telling people that.”

Lily snorts. “No one would even believe me if I said that.”

“How come you’re not afraid?” Barty asked, looking at her.

Lily shrugged, her tank top strap falling off her shoulder. “I don’t know. There’s something about you that makes me feel the opposite, like I trust you.”

She stood up and wiped off her bare legs from the bits of gravel that were stuck onto them. Barty followed suit, standing up. He extended his wings to see if there were any cuts on them too, and when he saw small ones, he frowned. His wings always took longer to heal, so if he wanted to go anywhere, he’d have to walk until the cuts went away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lily asked. She carefully places her hand on Barty’s arm, and he almost melts into it because he’s never been touched by anyone like this before. Soft and gentle—feelings that Barty thought he’d never experience.

“Peachy,” Barty replied. “You should get home. It’s late.”

“I don’t want to just leave you—”

“It’s fine.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Why? So you can try and do another hit-and-run?” Barty asked, grinning. He couldn’t actually believe that Lily wanted to try and see him again, but it was almost too good to be true.

“No, I—I don’t know, I’m just curious about you. I can’t properly explain it.”

“There’s nothing curious about me.”

“You’re literally a monster—”

“I would prefer the term cryptid, sweetheart,” Barty said. “Monster is a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“My name is Lily,” she said. “Not ‘sweetheart.’”

“Lily, huh?” He said. He had to act like he didn’t already know her name, he didn’t want her to know that he’d seen her before and eavesdropped on her conversation with her friend from a couple of days prior. “Cute.”

Lily’s cheeks started to turn into a soft shade of pink, biting her lip as she turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact. “Oh, thanks, I guess. Your name is...nice.”

Barty smirked and brought two fingers up to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. She looked up and stared at him, and he had this whole witty comment that he was going to make, but he forgot all about it due to him getting lost in her. Seeing her up this close, seeing the freckles all over her face—he wanted to sit down and just count every single one of them if she’d let him. He wanted to tell her how he could get lost in her eyes which were suddenly now his favorite shade of green. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and fuck, maybe he’d even try and learn how to braid hair or some shit if it meant being able to just touch her in any way that he could.

Lily was a light that Barty wanted to orbit around forever.

There was no other way to explain that Lily made him feel like he was meant to be here. Here, in front of her, as if being pulled away from her was going to destroy him.

Well, that was a bit dramatic.

However, he’d rather get hit by a thousand cars than have Lily leave.

But he knew that she had to.

“Thanks for the forced compliment, princess,” Barty said, dropping his hand. “But go home. We’ll find each other again one day, I’m sure.”

"And what if we don't?"

"Then we don't."

"I'm sorry, you know," Lily said, frowning. "For hitting you."

"See? Was that apology so hard?"

"God, you're so annoying," she murmured.

"And you think you're not?"

Lily smiled, and Barty wanted to see that every day.

Realistically, he knew that he couldn't. It wouldn't work. Anything Barty wanted never worked out for him, so why would this situation be any different?

"Come on, go home," Barty said.

Lily hesitantly nodded her head and walked over to the running car. Barty watched her get into the vehicle as he moved to the side of the road, not really wanting to get hit a second time.

If Lily looked back when she drove away, Barty wouldn’t know. He was too caught up in staring at the ground, already missing someone he hardly knew.

[sunlightmurdock]

Safe Zone | 0.3 | Jake Seresin / Bradley Bradshaw AU

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: throughout the fic - gore, death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. A zombie gets stabbed in the eye in this chapter, it’s brief but worth mentioning

…

“That hair’s getting pretty long, Floyd,” Cyclone comments, looking disapprovingly across the rec room at Bob. “It’s out of code.”

Jake looks up from his breakfast. Like code matters anymore. He’s setting up to go and clear a fresh load of bodies from the perimeter, Bob’s long hair doesn’t seem like a pressing issue.

“My wife cuts my hair, sir.” Bob answers calmly, without looking up from his own breakfast. His voice is quiet, but calm. In the beginning, his voice would tremble at the mention of her.

People quickly learned not to bring her up.

Cyclone looks down at his coffee and swallows. The silence in the room feels suddenly much louder.

“Right. I’ll be at the front gate.” He mutters, turning and walking away.

Bob’s wife isn’t dead. He’s the only one that knows for certain about one of their loved ones. She was back in South Carolina when this happened, she’s stuck there, he’s stuck here.

One of Bob’s primary jobs around here is to make and keep contact with the active safe zones around the country. He was distraught for the first week, checking with every camp in South Carolina until she turned up. She’s safe in the Charleston safe zone - but she’s still there and he’s still there.

Phoenix is pretty sure her family are at the Tucson safe zone. Jake’s confident that his parents would have gotten his sisters and nephews safely to the one outside of Austin.

“Easy enough for him to act like everything’s normal - his family’s here.” Phoenix mutters dejectedly, shaking her head. Bob gives her a soft smile for always standing up for him.

Cyclone lived in the area. He and a bunch of the higher ups got their families here safely. They were living in the officer’s building, until Hondo’s youngest daughter’s crying started keeping everyone up and people were falling asleep on watch.

Now, families stay in the west wing, singles get the building to the east. Bob’s in the west for now, but he has a place earmarked in the east for when his wife gets here. She’s pregnant.

“I miss my mom’s cooking.” Fanboy agrees.

“I miss my vibrator.” Phoenix scoffs. All eyes turn towards her at once. She looks up and frowns, remembering her company. She’s the only girl that stuck around when everything went to shit that isn’t in the west wing, “Open your mouth, Yale, and I’ll snap it off.”

Jake chuckles, standing up and dropping his plate into the sink. It’s someone else’s job to clean that up. The sun’s coming up as he crosses base to go and meet his team.

He turns his head to see Rooster coming out of the control tower. Followed by you. You yawn softly and stretch your neck. Your eyes meet Jake’s. His smiles slightly at the way your face drops, knowing you’re caught. Another thing he could tell on you for if he wanted to.

“Mornin’.” Jake calls out, lifting his hand and waving at you. It’s just to let you both know that he’s there and that he isn’t afraid of being loud.

It’s a falsely friendly gesture. Fucking Bradshaw got to you first. It’s fine, he can see the distance between the two of you - you’re practically yawning. Jake hasn’t lost yet.

Rooster gives him a nod of acknowledgement and then looks back to you, ignoring Jake almost completely. Your eyes linger on Jake’s, he shoots you a quick wink as he passes by.

He’s pissed off. Rooster convinced you to sign up, and he’s already trying to take you under his stupid fucking flightless wing. Jake’s glad he’s on body patrol this morning because he’s got a little anger to get out.

“Wasn’t so bad, right?” Rooster asks as he locks the door behind him.

“Was kind of boring, actually.” You tell him.

He smiles, then nods. “You an adrenaline junkie or something?”

You give a soft shrug of your shoulders, “Maybe.”

He stares at you, lips quirked up just slightly. You’re familiar with the look that he’s giving you. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he likes you. The world ended, what’s the point in pretending anymore?

“So, how’d you feel about picking up some shifts?” Rooster asks.

You purse your lips, still unsure. He’s spent the past five hours discussing the pros and cons with you. It would get you out of the room more.

“I guess there are worse ways I could spend my time.” You answer.

Rooster happily takes care of the enrollment for you, and of course volunteers himself to be your trainer. Cyclone insists that any civilians that will be taking on Navy duties will have one on one training — Rooster couldn’t be happier to abide by the rule.

You get started that afternoon. You both sleep off the ache of last night’s all-nighter for the morning and regroup at 1pm in front of the information centre.

Rooster looks you up and down as you reach him.

“Cyclone’s probably going to want you in uniform once you’re doing real shifts.” He notes, standing before you in what all of them seem to wear.

They each walk around in some variation of a navy working uniform. Some of them in the sea coveralls, some of them in military typical greens. Whatever they have, you guess.

You usually stick to shorts and some kind of t-shirt or tank top. That’s about all you can bear in this heat. It feels hotter this summer.

“I’ll drop some by your place tonight.” He looks down at his clipboard as he says it. This is a test. You spent all of last night brushing off his advances, keeping all conversation strictly platonic.

Now, he’s waiting to see if you’ll correct him here. You let it slide. It’s important to pick your battles, and having a tall brunette with pretty eyes offer to go out of his way to bring you uniform doesn’t seem like something to argue about.

Besides, he can swoon over you all he wants — it doesn’t mean a thing to you either way.

“How familiar are you with base? — I see you walking around often enough that I figure you know where most stuff is, right?” Rooster checks, lifting his sunglasses up onto his head as he looks down at the clipboard Hondo gave him.

You take a step closer and crane your neck to look over the checklist. All basic stuff. Arms training is at the bottom of the list — Luke’s going to be so jealous.

“Yeah, I know my way around.” You agree.

He dips a hand into the pocket of his cargos and pulls out a pen, ticking off the first point on the list. The second is shift posts.

“Okay — I’ll start off by showing you where each of the posts are, we can talk a little about what you do at each of them.”

“Sounds good.” You agree again.

Rooster holds the clipboard by his side and walks you through each of the sixteen posts. Everything in base first: the control tower, the warehouse, the food hall - all of the places with the highest traffic.

You pass by what used to be the Top Gun building, now repurposed to be a makeshift highschool class. You squint as you look through the windows.

“Look at that idiot.” You mutter. Rooster turns his head, finding your brother sitting at the back of the class, balancing a pencil above his top lip - he laughs softly. The girl next to Luke giggles and leans into his side.

“Oh shit.” Rooster’s smile drops quickly. He keeps walking and shakes his head, “That’s Admiral Simpson’s kid. You should warn him.”

You frown and look back to Rooster, “Is Admiral Simpson the scary one?”

“That guy.” Rooster points to the front gate. Your eyes focus on the older man, standing at the top of the wall, screaming orders at a young ensign. You wince. Rooster chuckles at your reaction.

“You and your brother seem pretty close.” He comments, walking right by the gate without doing much explaining at all. It’s clear to you that he’s not showing you around because he cares a great deal about the work you’ll be doing around here.

He just wants to get closer to you. You’re onto him every step of the way.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on him.” You reply.

He nods, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. He figures that it’s probably not his place to say anything - and that even if it was his place, you probably wouldn’t want to hear it.

“So, who keeps an eye on you?” Bradley asks. You turn your head to look at him as he walks you to the south wall post. He’s a little red from being in the sun too long, his curls messy from constantly running his fingers through them. He’s handsome - and that black t-shirt is tight enough for you to be able to tell that his body would be just as pleasant to look at.

Before this, you probably would have gone for him. He’s definitely the kind of guy you would have let buy you a drink and tell you that you’re pretty. Back then.

“I do.” You reply calmly, your chin lifted, looking him in the eye.

Bradley’s lips quirk, amused by your response. “Yeah, but - everyone needs a wingman, right?”

You almost laugh. You stare at him, then shake your head, “And you’re going to be my wingman?” He shrugs his shoulders, then smiles sweetly at you. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that.

Jake’s sitting on top of the platform on the south wall, one of his legs dangling down the outside. He glances down as something nudges his boot. He rolls his eyes. The decaying hand reaches for his ankle again. He looks down and stares into its eyes.

Her mouth hangs open and gaunt, growling dully as she claws at the side of the corrugated metal, occasionally grazing his leg. She’s dark-haired and torn open around the stomach. If Jake had to guess, he’d say that her eyes used to be green.

They dullen the longer that they’re dead. Still a bloodshot red where white used to be, her skin is dirty and flaked with drying blood. He looks up, checking the beach. He’s pretty far from the road blocks. This post is usually just to keep an eye on the coast.

The dead usually don’t make it this far up, he isn’t sure where she came from. It doesn’t phase him. He pushes himself up so that he’s on his knees and pulls his knife from his pocket. He doesn’t have one of those spear things Fanboy made here with him.

He holds the railing to the platform with one hand and leans forwards. Her hands reach up eagerly for his face, broken nails caked in dirt and dried blood extending towards his skin. Jake half-winces at the smell. He leans closer, she just about catches his collar.

Jake’s blade pushes through her eye until it’s submerged at the hilt. She sinks to the floor at the base of the wall. Jake pulls back up and wipes his knife off on the calf of his pant leg.

“Hey, Hangman.”

He turns his head, raising an eyebrow. Rooster lifts his palm and waves. Jake folds the switchblade in half and slips it back into his pocket as he looks between the two of you. No one calls him Hangman anymore.

“Bird boy.” Jake answers back. Rooster laughs. Jake turns to look at you, giving you a nod of acknowledgement. You nod back. “Takin’ the afternoon off, Bradshaw?”

Rooster lifts his official looking clipboard, “Showing the newest member of the team around, actually.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, “You signed up.”

You nod once more, but don’t answer him. He lifts the length of rope from in front of him and pulls it into his lap, biting down on the toothpick as he unties the knot he had made earlier.

Static crackles on Rooster’s radio.

“Uh… Rooster, we’ve got an incident in Block B. Could you get over here?” One of Rooster’s staff calls for his help over channel three.

Rooster turns his attention to look at you. “Fuck - I have to go handle that… uh-“

You look at him and nod. He has this look on his face like he’s willing to let that situation escalate if it means he’ll get to stay here with you. Your brows furrow slightly as you wait for him to leave.

“I can keep an eye on her.” Jake offers.

You look up at him, and then back at Rooster. Bradley gives a small ‘up to you’ type shrug. Jake grins, passing the toothpick between his teeth, “Alright, Trouble - come on over.”

Rooster stares at him for a moment. You grab the ladder and pull yourself up onto the platform, sitting down with your legs dangling over the edge, into camp.

“I’ll be right back.” Rooster swears. You nod at him, then lean back on your palms. You and Jake sit together and watch him jog towards Block B. Once he’s out of view, you turn your head to look at Jake.

You’re met with green eyes for just a second, before Jake looks down and continues to work with the rope in his hands. You turn your head and look out over the coast. You can see it from the window in your room, but it’s been almost three months since you saw the ocean without a window in front of it.

You take a deep breath. You look down, lips parting slightly. Jake glances up, catching you frozen and staring over the edge of the wall. He follows your gaze down.

“You know her or something?” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.

You turn your head and frown at him. He’s smirking. You stare.

“No, but - that’s still a dead person.”

Jake shrugs, “You get used to it.”

You think back to the beginning. The things that you saw in the days before you got here. That sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach burns up your sternum and sits on your chest until the heat of it makes you shiver.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” You mutter, shaking off that cold feeling. Seeing them brings it all back. Jake glances up, cocking an eyebrow at you. He hadn’t been expecting you to be so phased by it.

“Did you lose someone?” Jake asks. He has always been one to put a foot over the line. He knows it’s a personal question, and he knows that it’s a disrespectful way to ask. He doesn’t even bother to look up at you as he says it.

But you did just spend the past twenty-four hours in Bradshaw’s shadow, so Jake figures you won’t mind the coldness.

You take the other length of rope and begin to copy what he’s doing. It’s a sailing knot, and a fairly complicated one at that. You run through his exact movements. Jake watches as you copy him.

“You’ve been here since the beginning.” Jake recalls - you’re in Block C, that was the first block to be filled. That means you got here within the first week. You’re higher up, likely to have arrived within the first four days after the evacuation order. “Did you lose someone before you got here?”

“Luke! Put me down!”

You’re interrupted by a shrill giggle. You both look up in unison as a group of teenagers spill out of the Top Gun south classroom. Luke’s got his arms around a girl’s middle, lifting her off the ground as she squeals.

Jake’s lips quirk as he realises who your brother is holding.

“Does he know who that is?” Jake asks softly. You’re glad that the subject has changed. You watch, unimpressed as Luke sets her back on her feet and drapes himself over her.

“No.”

“Do you?” Jake smirks. He lifts his head and squints over towards the front gate. Beau’s facing the remnants of the city, his back to the mess happening behind him.

“Rooster told me.” You nod.

Delilah Simpson bites her lip, grinning as she shoves playfully at Luke’s chest. Luke pulls her closer again and leans in closer to talk to her. Jake watches the situation unfold.

He could intervene, but after you had yelled at him yesterday, he just lets it happen. He knows that Luke’s going to get his ass kicked if her Dad sees them together.

Delilah blushes as she agrees to meet Luke later that night. He smiles, then turns back to walk back over to his friends without noticing you or Jake watching him.

“Hey, Luke!”

You both look up. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he spots Rooster walking back towards the grass. Rooster holds up a round leather soccer ball, then smiles.

“Hey, you found our ball!” Luke grins as he walks over to meet Rooster halfway. Rooster tosses it to him, then looks up, his eyes landing on you, waiting for your approval.

“Fucking asskisser.” Jake scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. He glances up to find you staring at him.

Your lips are quirked just slightly. He’s surprised to find you amused by the comment. You’re about to smile. The corners of your mouth hint at a grin, then falter as you compose yourself, looking back down as you focus on tying the knot that he’s showing you.

“Oh, you liked that one?” Jake notices, his own lips quirking slightly in response. You don’t answer him, continuing to focus on your work.

“If you’re looking for jokes about Bradshaw, I’ve got hundreds, honey — just say the word.”

“I’m not your honey.” You reply calmly, fingers working nimbly around the rope. You’re getting the hang of it pretty well. Jake smiles at you.

“Are you his?” Jake taunts, knowing it’ll draw a reaction from you to imply that you belong to anyone at all. And it does. Works like a charm. You look up at him, furious at the insinuation.

You notice the smirk of anticipation toying on all of his features at once, not just his lips. Just as much in his eyes. You’re quick to realise that you were about to play right into his hands.

“Maybe if I’m a good girl, he might let me be.” You reply, knowing it would draw an equal reaction from him to imply that you’re interested in screwing his friend. Works like a charm. The amusement slips from Jake’s face, intrigue remains in its place.

He really can’t tell if you like Rooster or not. It’s even more difficult to figure out how you feel about him.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Jake decides, after six attempts of watching you tie and loosen it just fine. He moves forward and takes the rope from you. It’s an excuse to get closer and remind you that he knows what he’s doing and you don’t.

You watch calmly as he does the same thing over again. You mimic his movements and wind up with the exact same knot as before.

“That’s better.” Jake lies. It was already fine to begin with, but now he knows you’ll follow instructions.

…

@shawnsblue @cowboybarbie @perpetuelledaydreaming @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @laluneveillesureux @cherrycola27 @momc95 @abaker74 @footprintsinthesxnd @ohtobeleah @bioodforbiood

[homenecromancer]

comic by Tim Kreider; here’s the full text of his Artist’s Statement for this one:

I had already turned in my cartoon Friday afternoon when, Saturday morning, I read the news that Reagan’s health was failing. I began drawing immediately. I have had a rough draft of this cartoon ready for this occasion for years. As the day continued I kept getting e-mails and text messages from friends excitedly anticipating the Gipper’s impending death. Finally Steve, with whom I have planned for over a decade to hold a party on the day of Reagan’s funeral, called me from the track, where he was betting on the Belmont Stakes, to tell me that the old bastard was finally dead. He reported that there had been a perfunctory Moment of Silence, lasting approximately 1.6 seconds, before everyone went back to betting. It was beautiful. As the afternoon went on I got a flood of congratulatory calls from friends around the world—Ben in Boston, Megan and Mike in New York, Berkeley in Baltimore, even Allison in Bulgaria. I e-mailed this cartoon into the City Paper around seven P.M., begging them in the name of our sweet lord and savior Jesus Christ to stop the presses and please run this Wednesday, and then headed down to Baltimore to drink tiny beers and watch The Big Lebowski. The Reagan party will be held at my house this weekend.

Perhaps it may seem insensitive and unpatriotic to some for me to run such an ugly cartoon at this time of national mourning. To those of you who hold this view, I must respectfully say fuck you. Some of my younger readers may not even remember Ronald Regan’s presidency, and I would not want them to be misled by the onslaught of state propaganda they’ll be subjected to this week. Calling him the Great Communicator is like calling Hitler the Great Negotiator, and if we’re going to credit him with winning the Cold War we may as well credit him with the Challenger disaster and the return of Halley’s Comet. Let me tell you what it was really like:

Even at age twelve I could tell that Jimmy Carter was an honest man trying to address complicated issues and Ronald Reagan was a brilcreemed salesman telling people what they wanted to hear. I secretly wept on the stairs the night he was elected President, because I understood that the kind of shitheads I had to listen to in the cafeteria grew up to become voters, and won. I spent the eight years he was in office living in one of those science-fiction movies where everyone is taken over by aliens—I was appalled by how stupid and mean-spirited and repulsive the world was becoming while everyone else in America seemed to agree that things were finally exactly as they should be. The Washington Press corps was so enamored of his down-to-earth charm that they never checked his facts, but if you watched his face when it was at rest, when he wasn’t performing for anyone, you could see him for what he really was—a black-eyed, slit-mouthed, lizard-faced old son-of-a-bitch. He was a bad actor, an informer for McCarthy, and a hired front man for a gang of Texas oilmen, fundamentalist dingbats, and right-wing psychotics out of Dr. Strangelove. He put a genial face on chauvanism, callousness, and greed, and made people feel good about being bigots again. He likened Central American death squads to our founding fathers and called the Taliban “freedom fighters.” His legacy includes the dismantling of Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, the final dirty win of Management over Labor, the outsourcing of America’s manufacturing base, the embezzlement of almost all the country's wealth by 1% of its citizens, the scapegoating of the poor and black, the War on Drugs, the eviction of schizophrenics into the streets, AIDS, acid rain, Iran-Contra, and, let’s not forget, the corpses of two hundred forty United States Marines. He moved the center of political discourse in this country to somewhere in between Richard Nixon and Augusto Pinochet. He believed in astrology and Armageddon and didn't know the difference between history and movies; his stories were lies and his jokes were scripted. He was the triumph of image over truth, paving the way for even more vapid spokesmodels like George W. Bush. He was, as everyone agrees, exactly what he appeared to be—nothing. He made me ashamed to be an American. If there was any justice in this world his Presidential Library would contain nothing but boys' adventure books and bad cowboy movies, and the only things named after him would be shopping malls and Potter's Fields. Let the earth where he is buried be seeded with salt.

as of today, Ronald Reagan has been in Hell for twenty years