#here we go babeyyyy

[orphyd]

Eddie kicking in at the family reunion-

[swinging-through-the-stars]

Luke Skywalker Says: BE GAY!

More versions that I experimented with below the cut!

[b4kuch1n]

frog documentation. frogcumentation

I think I mentioned a while back I'd post nibling frog momence after the gift's done given. which happened on the 2nd this month I just forgot lmao. anyways we can do it now. I used the boigameista pattern scaled up to four pieces of A4 print paper and decided to double deck it to a two layer thing, not unlike a pillow, for ease of washin. because it was gonna be gifted to a one year old child

took a long time and made a number of mistakes bc hand sewing makes me worse as a person but this guy was done in time for the birthday occasion and that's what matters. chose non-fuzzy fabrics for it because we live in a dense city in the tropics and from personal experience if I hug something made of fur I would explode. the original plan included felt patterns on its back for bonus textures for baby but that wouldn't stretch well along with the rest of the thing so had to hold that back. eventually we got this

zipper across its ass, the coat type of zipper bc I miscalculated when ordering. but it did have a shape and that's all that matters to me. will be a fun game for the baby to grow up and be severely misinformed about what a frog looks like

happy extremely late birthday to this thing also

[rars]

oughhhh it's comic-making time again....

[solstitios]

night has never been something callum has feared. in fact, it's something he embraces.

things move slower. people get quieter. the world sleeps and callum can breathe. there's a fog that surrounds his memory of how he ended up being twenty-seven and a guy who just wishes he could be in bed by sunset when everyone else his age still seem to have the gumption to stay awake for much, much longer. the younger lieutenants at work impress him, really — the way they can work a twelve hour shift and still manage to find themselves at illusion; perhaps its the adrenaline that turns these men into insomniacs. callum falls under that spell sometimes too, though not so much with the party scene — more-so the countless hours he's spent staring up into the dark at his ceiling apartment because all the articles these days that tell him how bad it for your circadian rhythm to stare at your phone in the dark (and he can only imagine how much worse adding alcohol would be on top of it).

it doesn't frighten him; if anything, he welcomes it with open arms. maybe he just needs a really, really long session in a sensory deprivation tank.

it's been another countless long night that makes callum even more excited to go home, shower off the smell of smoke and go to sleep for a million years (the irony). his boots trudge heavily down the hallway as he wonders to himself why he chose the farthest room from the elevator — nights like this just made the walk feel like eternity.

except tonight there's danbi's figure standing at his door, adorned in her pajamas and looking quite distressed. it's late, too. his heart softens and in her presence finds the coil in his back to spring his shoulders back to life, readjusting his posture to stand taller even despite the weight of the day still heavy.

"hey," he greets her softly, careful not to be too loud to disturb their neighbors. once he's closer, he can see the clear look of distress tangled in the furrow of her brows. callum drops the duffel bag he'd had slung over a shoulder at his feet and immediately feels that need to begin fixing things creep up from his core, through his torso and up to his neck. it's inevitable.

still in his station slacks and cotton 'ansong fire department' t-shirt, callum notes her incongruity in choice of slippers, but only smiles and looks back up at her. he does a bad job at trying to hide his chuckle, because in all honesty, it's hard not to find her endearing even when she seems clearly concerned about something. "you okay? it's really late. did something happen?"

› growing together with @solstitios . . . 🌱

there's something unnerving about the darkness - perhaps that the shadows can be deceiving, forming inky silhouettes that morph into things from nightmares, or the fact that there is no shadow at all, but in the shrouded abyss sits the hint of something sinister and wicked and all things frightening. the onset of panic gnaws at her each time she encounters the dark, but she can't put her finger on what makes her so uncomfortable. she has no recollection of anything traumatizing, like being locked in a dark closet for hours or watching a particularly terrifying film, but then again, danbi doesn't seem to remember much at all - simply, she just knows she doesn't like the dark, just like how she knows she likes matcha, gardening and soft and endearing, doe-eyed stuffed animals. speaking of which, one of her beloved plushies is held close to her chest in one arm as the other raises up, knuckles curled and gently rapping against the front door of callum's apartment.

under any other circumstances, she wouldn't be bothering him - she knows that being a firefighter means working both late and odd hours, and that being home at all probably doesn't come frequent to him. but danbi wasn't sure where else to turn, not when she had woken up in the middle of the night to her apartment being pitch black and her phone dead, having died sometime during the night due to the power outage. she had been so disoriented, waking up startled in the darkness, having grown accustomed to the soft glow of her fairy lights in her room to keep her safe, that it was a wonder she even managed to make it over here after wandering around her apartment and bumping into almost everything she owned.

"c-callum . . . are you home?" she whispers against the doorframe, wanting to be mindful of their neighbors, but hating the slight tremble in her voice. danbi takes a small breath, as though trying to dispel her nerves. she tries to steel her resolve, but the fact she's standing here in her pajamas with her stuffed animal in her arms, wearing mismatched shoes, shows that she's not quite as calm and level-headed as she normally was. "could i please use your phone to see if i can get ahold of the landlord?"

[hiskillingjar]

Strade with a clingy reader? (I apologize if someone has already asked for this)

lots of requests for this one sooooo i wrote a fic for it!! i also have a headcanon post stacked in the drafts for the other boys (gender neutral) sooooo here we go!

6000+ words, the most lovely and dubious of consent, also posted on archive of our own cus. ya know. it's long babeyyyy

It was rare that you went to Strade’s bedroom door after a nightmare.

Rarer still that he actually let you in.

When you slipped into his room, the opening and closing of his door almost silent and the slow padding of your bare feet against the carpet even quieter, his still body and slow breathing (deep and low, almost a snore but not quite) made you think, for a moment, that he was still asleep.

You wondered if you should just slink away and leave him to it. That was until he wordlessly lifted the corner of his duvet, without even opening his eyes first to greet you, in a silent invitation for you to join him. 

It's so wrong and (honestly) borderline perverse that such a small gesture made your heart swell in your chest to the point of nearly bursting out of your ribcage, but you couldn't help it. 

At least that’s what you told yourself. 

It was easier to play the victim than acknowledge that you might have been at least a little complicit in your captivity.Though you always had a way of blaming yourself for these sorts of things. 

That’s probably what a therapist would have told you, if you had one.

With a hidden smile that you hoped he'd never see (lest he possibly use it against you, and he probably would), you climbed into his bed, effortlessly slotting in next to him as he wrapped a thick arm around your middle and pulled your body close to his, like you were two pieces of a puzzle that naturally fit together without even a degree of forcefulness. His bare, hair-fuzzed chest was sweaty against your back and stuck to the thin vest that you wore in lieu of pyjamas, but the warmth was comforting and pleasant, like sleeping next to a radiator or space heater, so you didn't mind. 

It was nice to be reminded that he existed, you thought as you pressed back against his warmth with a peaceful sigh, to be reminded that this wasn't all some dream concocted by your sick, messed-up mind, desperate for a semblance of comfort and company, no matter the cost to your mental state. 

At least when he was real, you couldn't be blamed for liking the attention, the moments of sweetness, the quiet mornings where he was too tired to pull his mind games on you or hurt you.

Those moments kept you gentle and kind, and, for the most part, pliant to his whims. 

It was your only method of survival, after all, staying sweet on him in spite of it all.

"Come here, buddy," Strade murmured, still half-asleep, his slow breathing like wine, heavy and addictive, and his low voice (his accent thickened with sleep) as smooth and as comforting as velvet, suffocating and all-encompassing, like the warmth and dark of the room, like a pill bug curled up under a mossy log, like a foetus in the womb. "Come here..."

You didn't say anything as he pulled you in even closer, your hips pressed tightly together, his broad thigh wrapping around yours and caging you down against the expensive mattress. You could feel the first stirrings of arousal through his boxers against the thin gusset of your shorts, but you didn't mind, not all that much.

It was too early for worries, surely, too early to be concerned that he might take advantage of your need for comfort and closeness, and take your body as he so often did. 

His arms pulled you into him again, and though he was hot, burning hot (almost too hot, like you descending down the pits of Hell itself), he was also strong and powerful and comforting (and, and, and, you always made explanations for him) and safe. 

You couldn’t possibly resist turning to face him (at least you told yourself that you couldn’t resist), nestling your head into his soft chest, into the crook of his shoulder, and breathing in his scent, gasoline, motor oil, a little sweat (he hadn’t showered yet and you kind of hoped that he wouldn’t until later in the day), the soft musk of effortless masculinity and tan skin and thick hair.

Against your better judgement, you felt safe here.

He was strong. He made you feel small and protected and loved, in a funny sort of way. He was powerful. He was in charge of the house, the looming patriarch of your fucked up little family, like a husband with a doting wife,, and he held all the power that came with that position in a way that so naturally suited him. 

He reached a hand up to stroke through your hair, mussed and a little matted from sleep, and kissed the top of your head very lightly, grumbling lowly in satisfaction as you nestled in even closer, your arms reaching and squeezing around his middle, your legs tangled up with his as you clung like a babe did to its mother.

He was comforting. He made you feel safe.

He made you feel safe.

What a sick joke.

Had the you from three years ago been able to see you now, you had no doubt that they would have begged Strade to kill them, that fateful night in the basement.

Better dead than as a psychopath murderer’s (rapist’s) little lap dog, his little wife, his perfect little hostage.

But he was not your enemy, at least not for now.

He was merely a slumbering beast, a lion, a wolf, his chest rising slowly with each calm breath, up and down, and his eyes gazing lazily down at you as he assessed his prey with the placid and amused detachment expected from a predator.

"My, my, you're awfully clingy this morning," Strade crooned quietly with a low chuckle, the hand in your hair drifting down to your shoulders, feeling the warmth of your skin as it slid underneath your shirt (roaming over the scars that marked your skin). "What, did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Or something," You mumbled, pressing your face a little harder against his chest, trying to make him feel your weight on top of him as he so often did with you. He probably wouldn’t have noticed it much (despite your weight gain over the last three years), but you knew you were doing it, so that’s all that mattered. "I just want to feel you...feel you against me."

"Mm, promises, promises…" He said with another laugh, shaking his head as his thick fingers roamed the notches of your spine. "Normally, you'll do anything you can not to feel me, fraulein...why the change of heart, hm?"

His stubble dotted cheek grazed against yours, the bridge of his nose nestled right up against your jaw, inhaling your scent as you did him, and when you looked up (as he was gesturing for you to do), his golden eyes (so vibrant, even when the room was so dark) were half lidded (still tired) and teeth-achingly fond. 

He was always so good at showing just how fond he was of you, after all.

“What, do you feel like being a good girl for me today?”

You didn't answer his question, not properly. You couldn’t bear agreeing or disagreeing with him, not today anyway.

You didn't say anything, in fact, but you didn't stop him either as he pushed the fingers of his free hand back through your hair, cradled your skull (curling his fingers into a fist) and brought you in for a deep kiss, which you acclimated to almost instantly, clinging onto him even tighter.

It was pathetic, and at least you knew it was fucking pathetic, to admit to yourself that he was everything you wanted before all of this, that he embodied everything you fantasised and masturbated to when you couldn’t get a real person to touch you. It was probably even more pathetic to admit that you still wanted it, in spite of the psychosexual dynamic that was as close to any kind of Stockholm Syndrome as anything else (like it was a real condition anyway). 

You still felt awful and unbearably guilty, in spite of your new found honesty to yourself, that every inch of you continued to yearn for him and crave the feeling of his touch, instead of fighting for your life to be free of him. 

But you always had a way of feeling guilty about the things that you wanted.

You had no doubt that a therapist probably would have said that to you too.

The bruises that seemed to always paint your skin ached slightly, like just being near him, the fire that he was, was enough to set every nerve alight, but the sensation was addictive.

You wanted to get lost in him. 

You wanted to let him make you his, whatever the cost of that submission was.

So, instead of wallowing in your own self pity or lying to yourself (as your fellow captive was so prone to do), you let yourself wrap your arms around his neck and pull him towards yourself, deepening the kiss and letting him take you as he wanted (as he always wanted).

Understanding your need without words (since he was always so strangely attentive of that sort of thing), his kisses gradually grew rougher. 

His sharp cannibal teeth grazed your parted lips as he kissed you hungrily, sucking your tongue, biting down, making you squirm and writhe and moan. His hands roamed down the length of your body and dug into each trembling curve and slope of newly acquired fat, squeezing you so tightly and pressing your body against his so forcefully, it almost hurt. 

This was what he wanted, though, and you knew that: you losing control, giving him full access to you, your bruises, your body, hurting you. 

You were sure that he was going to tear into you one of these days, when he bit down on your lips again, a rupture of blood streaming from your mouth, staining his tongue. You were sure that he was going to make you bleed even more and glut himself on your blood completely, but you didn't care. 

You wanted him, still wanted him, in spite of all of that, in spite of his violence and hunger.

And the more you gave in to him, the more he wanted to take from you.

His mouth wandered down from your lips (his slack tongue drooling a dangerously pinkish string of spittle over your lips and down your chin) and to your neck, making you shiver and gasp even more, gripping onto him tightly, arms around his shoulders, legs tangled with his and squeezing tightly.

"I like this," He mumbled softly, pulling back from your neck (after leaving a bite in his wake)  for just a moment and rubbing his forehead against yours, a smile dimpling his features and making him look all the more sickeningly fond of you. "This attitude turn. You're normally so...brusque with me, so dismissive. It's not all that becoming of someone in your position, you know."

"You can't have minded it too much," You replied, your tone as flat as usual, though your arms tightened around his neck and your legs clung even tighter. "I'm still alive...have been for nearly three years, now."

"Mm, that's true," He agreed with a nod, one hand descending down your body, groping your hips, the soft flesh of your ass, palming the shadowed bruises that covered your flesh. "I guess you're cute enough that I can handle a shitty attitude now and then. But, this..." He laughed again before digging his teeth into his bottom lip and grinding his hips down against yours completely. "This really is too cute for words. Maybe you should keep it up, hm?"

"Maybe," You replied coyly, your own eyes flitting downwards as your hips bucked in unison to his grinding, pressing the two of you together even more.

This was the place he liked to bring you, right to the very edge of your most intimate and darkest desires. It was his way of tempting and playing with you, you guessed, an overgrown child playing with his food, playing with his favourite toy until it broke, while you begged and pleaded for him to pull you back from that edge, before it was too late and you fell over it and succumbed to them completely. 

You found that you were (often) pushed far over the edge, and had been for a while as he climbed on top of you and pinned you down to the mattress with his heavy body (pressing his weight into you), his lips against your neck, leaving kisses, bruises, bites and harsh marks on your skin.

You writhed and mewled at each burning pulse of pure shock from his teeth, his tongue, but the pain was such a sweet sensation...almost as good as the satisfaction he felt watching your skin purple and bruise, evidence of what he did for you that everyone would have the chance to see (if he ever let you leave the fucking house again).

This was just how he loved, you told yourself, because surely he must love you to have kept you around this long.

Your pain was his pleasure. It was as simple as that.

"Are you alright?" He asked you as he pulled back and looked in your hazy eyes.

"No," You rasped as you reached up to touch one of the worst bites, hissing as you felt wet oozing out of you, mingling with saliva and spittle. "I'm bleeding."

"Well, that’s hardly a concern of mine," He chuckled, evidently a little turned on by your honest answer as he leaned down to kiss your lips a little more, his strong arms bracketing your neck and shoulders as he loomed in view. . 

His tongue pressed inside your mouth, pushing past the barrier of your lips, and dragged against yours in a sleepy and slow, massaging sort of way, in spite of his violence and how much your bruises were throbbing. He had the potential to be soft and gentle with you, and displayed that potential to you readily only to take it away just as quickly. 

An overgrown child playing with his food. Playing with his favourite toy until it broke.

"I want to make you bleed more," He murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth with a slight smirk, groping hands travelling down your hips to wrangle your shorts down your legs and throw them to the side. ”I always do. That’s when you look your best, you know?”

"Mmhmm?" You hummed against his lips, threading your own groping hands through his hair and pulling him closer to you, not bearing to have him away from you for even a moment.

“Mm,” He rubbed his forehead against yours again, his breath warm on your skin as his hips slotted between yours, and you felt the heat of his erection through his underwear against your thigh. “Makes me that much crazier about you.”

You didn't stop him as he initiated another deeper kiss.

But you never stopped him.

"Mmph..." 

You groaned lowly at the back of your throat as your fingers curled into fists in his hair and pulled hard. It was the most amount of power he would ever let you have over him, you knew that, as you tethered him closer to you, to your desires, as he sucked on your mouth, his tongue delving hungrily against yours, again and again, invading you as he pushed closer to you.

You wrenched your head back, away from the kiss, with a harsh gasp (breaching the surface of the water before drowning)  as he slid his hand up between your thighs, feeling the wet heat that lay at the top of them and devling his fingers inside without even a moment of hesitation or any kind of resistance. Dripping wet, pre-cum smeared between your thighs, you were that fucking eager for him.

God, you were fucking pathetic. 

You hissed painfully as you felt him bite down on your neck again as he slowly finger-fucked you, the scruff of his stubble itching your skin as his teeth dug in deeper. You did your best to retaliate, curling your fingers tighter into his hair and pulling on it. You’d tell yourself that you were trying to get him away from you, to release yourself from the painful clamp of his jaws, but you knew that that wasn’t the truth, not really.

It still felt good to do, though. 

Strade growled lowly at the pain in his scalp, and his free hand planted itself in the middle of your chest, pinning you to the bed, holding you down like a struggling animal, stopping you from flinching too much or squirming away from him as he dug his teeth even deeper, grinding them together to make the pain that much worse.

Your mind was hazy, torn between the excruciating pain of his bite and the overwhelming pleasure of his thrusting fingers inside of you. 

Your body was so exposed, so vulnerable, to everything he wanted from you.

Strade was in full control of you, as he so often was, and you ached for it. 

"God…do you even know how much I love you?" You rasped shallowly, finally letting go of the fists of hair you were still clinging onto, as he pressed another bite against your shoulder, lighter but still painful.

“Hm?” He hummed airily against your skin, a light hearted smile gracing his features as his hazy eyes glanced upwards, eyeing you as he pressed his fingers a little deeper inside of you, rubbing against a bundle of nerves that always made you tremble.

“Ngh-!” You groaned, fisting your fingers into the bedsheets in lieu of clinging to him even more, your eyes squeezing shut as you tipped your head back. “Ahh…I do love you. I do. I shouldn't, but I do. So much I can barely stand it..."

“Hm…no wonder you’re so clingy this morning,” He replied, his voice full of good humour, as it often was, like he was telling an especially mean joke that he’d never let you in on. “You’re all loved up. How sweet~” 

He kissed you again, his body pushing down against yours, grinding into you as he slid his fingers from inside you and tucked down his boxers, finally revealing his hard cock and letting it smear a line of pre-cum against your bare skin. His hands bracketed your hips as he kissed you more forcefully, biting down again, and slid down to your thighs to part them further, spreading you open.

He sucked on your sore mouth hard enough for the stream of blood to start trickling again and delved his probing tongue back into your mouth, tasting your blood, evidently (by how hard his cock was) getting more and more turned on as it smeared on his tongue, stained his teeth, made him that much more hungry to see you writhe and tear into you.

You didn't care. 

You'd welcome him tearing into you, if he stayed this close, if he kept kissing you.

"So sweet," He murmured thickly against your lips, in something between a growl and a purr, as he pulled away from the kiss, a smear of blood painting his own lips. "So fucking desperate for it. Do you like this, liebling? Do you like me hurting you like this?" He asked, his voice husky, his breath hot, as you felt him slot his hard cock against your entrance (rubbing against your clit), ready to breach the barrier and take you, as he so often did.

"I like you kissing me," You were breathing hard, your eyes going down to try and watch as he pushed into you, though, of course, you saw nothing but his belly pressing against yours, his tan skin achingly warm (and hot). "Even if it hurts...I like that you're doing it, all the same."

"Is it painful?" He murmured, licking his lips and breathing heavily as he breached your entrance and slid inside of you, easily. “Does it hurt so much, fraulein? Can you barely even take it?”

In spite of the lack of resistance (pathetic, fucking pathetic, god, you hated that you wanted him this badly, you hated how wet you were and how ready your body was for his invasion), there was something intimately painful about the stretch. It was like your cunt was struggling to take all of him in, even though it had done this countless times before, like your body itself was rejecting the painful force behind his initial thrusts and making you clench down even tighter around him.

"Ngh!" You cried out, your back arching and your head thrown back, as his hands covered shadowed bruises painting your skin, digging in, tearing into you. "I-It's torture...the worst pain imaginable…"

"Oh, you poor thing," He murmured with a giddy, rasping little chuckle, like your admission was everything he needed to let go of any sense of composure that he might have had before (if he ever had any). "But there's nothing you can do, is there? No, no, nothing at all."

“Mph,” You whined, your shaking hands going up to cover your sweating face as he gripped your hips tighter and slid even deeper inside of you.

“And I don’t think you want to do anything, either.” He continued, his eyes that of a predator, wide awake and ready to tear into his prey. “You want to be taken like this, forever. Hmm…” He laughed, shaking his head fondly. “Wunderschon, ja? You’ll always be mine and I don’t even have to try…”

Who's to say that love needs to be soft and gentle?

You think you had heard that once in a literature class…or maybe it was a fucked up movie you watched, when you didn’t have this, when you tried to scratch the itch with film recommendations on forums and shock sites. 

All the same, this kind of love (because it had to be love, it had to be, it had to be) was clearly as good as any other, both for you and for Strade.

It seemed that every time you cried out in pain or writhed underneath him, like you were squirming to be set free, it was enough to make him lose his mind and push even deeper inside of you, caging your body down with his, filling you up completely in an erratic need to take your body, by any means necessary.

"Show me your face." He commanded then, his voice hoarse with desire as he dipped his head down to your level again, his thrusting hips stilling for just a moment. “Let me see you.”

"Don't...hah, please don't look at me," You whined, begging, pleading, still covering your face with your hands, trying to pull back, though for what reason, you weren’t quite sure.

“No, don’t fight me.” He chided like he was scolding a child, an animal, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and wrenching them down forcefully, with a strength you often forgot about and yet, were often well acquainted with. “You know you won’t win, don’t you, fraulein? I won’t let you…”

He was clearly enjoying this much too much to let you pull away now, as he pulled your hands away completely, pinning them down to your chest and  forcing you to hold eye contact with him.

You stared up at him, your gaze caught somewhere between fear and dazed detachment.

The light streaming in from the rising sun outside softened his hulking body into dark, curved silhouettes, and the round, paper lantern behind his head (cheap, replaceable, something that reminded you of home, you said) made him look like some cheap facsimile of an angel, your own personal Heaven when he should have felt like Hell.

An angel to some, a demon to others. You knew you heard that in a movie before. 

"Good girl." He praised, the hand pinning your hands still and compressing your chest  reaching up to stroke your cheek (bruised, scarred, probably imagining bruising you even more). “Good, pretty girl. So lovely, so sweet when they’re behaving…”

You didn't even try to hold back a little giggle, your cheeks flushed as he took your chin in hand and pressed your head back against the pillows, a look of (almost) genuine affection in his golden eyes as he considered you further, as his thrusting hips continued, pushing deep and making your body clench up tightly with pleasure. 

“That’s it, there we go,” He continued to praise, his chest against yours as his free hand slid down to your trembling thighs, hiking them up around his waist and forcing your body to bend painfully in two. “No fighting now, liebling, no fighting me…it makes it so much nicer, doesn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah…” You stammered, your legs tightening around his full waist as his pace picked up, his hips slamming against yours and forcing out gasping little moans with each painful thrust. 

“Mm, you’d really do anything for me, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” He asked again, the hand on your cheek descending down your neck as his expression grew hungrier and more feral, more desperate for you. “Anything at all?”

“Ahhh…” You groaned, your body growing tight and your mind erratic and manic, as he pushed against your sweet spot multiple times, grazing it but not quite stimulating it enough to feel good. “Yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyes-”

"Oh yeah?" He drawled, interrupting you and running his tongue over his teeth (his sharp cannibal teeth) as he pushed into you again and again, hard enough to get you yelping and the headboard of his bed to start slamming against the wall rhythmically. Thank god you didn’t have neighbours who would hear. "Would you die for me, sweet thing?"

"You-ah!" You interrupted yourself with a yelp when he pulled back enough to slap you hard across the cheek, so hard that it made your ears ring and your head spin. You might have stared up at him, wide eyed, shocked and surprised that he would do something so brutal, so cruel, if you weren’t currently being fucked out of your mind. "Nghh, y-you know I would, you don't...don't even need to ask me."

"Good girl," He praised you (he was, at the very least, good with praise when you were in this kind of headspace), taking your cheeks in hand again and pinning your head down to the pillows and mattress more forcefully, his golden eyes half lidded with desire. "What about killing, hm? Would you kill for me?"

"Strade," You whined, your body arching as his hips continued to ruthlessly slam into yours, each barbaric thrust punctuated with a huffed growl. "God, please-"

"Answer the question!" He barked, letting go of your face to slap you once, twice, three times. You wouldn't have been surprised if your cheek was bruised up again after this, but you couldn't bring even a part of yourself to care about that now. "Would you kill for me?"

"Mmph..." You squeezed your eyes shut (your ears were ringing and your vision was spotted with white, you couldn't hold on). "Yes, yes, I'd do whatever you wanted me to do. Goddd..."

"Sick puppy," He chuckled victoriously, gradually slowing down his thrusts and considering you further with a wry tilt of his head. "You really would do anything for me, wouldn't you? How pathetic.”

You whimpered and raised your chin to hide your burning cheek against the pillow. He was gracious enough to let you do that, this time. 

"That's what I like about you," Strade growled, pressing his face into your shoulder and barring his teeth as he huffed out grunts and groans, his thrusts picking up in pace as he got more desperate to claim you. "Such a fucking suck up. I bet I could tell you to piss yourself and you'd do it, wouldn't you?"

You moaned brainlessly in vague agreement, not quite listening to what he was asking, demanding from you, feeling like your throat was closing up on any potential words you might have been able to say.

"Mm, I'll remember that for later," He huffed out a laugh (hot against your sweaty skin) as he pressed another harsh bite into your shoulder, not hard enough to bruise or bleed (like the others) but enough for your eyes to shoot wide open, and to force a shriek from your lips like a dying animal. "So disgusting, fraulein. I'd have the sense to be grossed out, mph,” He stopped speaking for a moment, his drooling mouth slack as you tightened up around him again. “I-If your pussy wasn't clamping my cock like a fucking vice…god-!"

You howled out again, a full throated scream that would wake neighbours and housemates if you had them (barring…well, the obvious) as he pressed a bite against the sensitive skin of your throat. Unable to contain your pain with just the scream, your legs instantly tensed around him and your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You even went so far as to dig your nails into the dense meat of his back and drag downwards, sure to leave behind a nasty mark in their wake. 

It was as close as you could get to hurting him, and you'd take the chance to show him even a modicum of pain possible, at every opportunity. 

You weren't crazy enough to not enjoy that, after all.

"Hrghhh, you fucking slut," He growled under his breath through a pained hiss through his teeth, the ‘pet-name’ rasped amidst a slur of German that you didn't understand (and you generally understood it well now, three years in.) "So, that’s how you wanna play, you little cunt?” He demanded, pulling himself upwards and glaring down at you, like he was about to pounce, as he so often did on the victims that came after you. “You wanna take all of me, don't you? So, fucking work for it."

You yelped loudly as he took a sudden and firm grip of your bruised hip and shoulder, and switched the positions forcefully, rolling you onto his front and lying back on the mattress, all the while keeping his cock firmly lodged inside of you.

"Work for it! Schnell, hund!" He ordered again, taking hold of both hips (digging his fingers and bitten fingernails in hard enough to leave a new batch of bruises and crimson crescents) 

While he ordered you around (in a tone that always made your cunt throb, in spite of the shame that caused you), he managed to push his cock deeper and deeper inside of you, thanks to his new leverage on your body, manurvering and handling you like you were a doll in his lap, a toy that he could use however he liked.

You continued to whine and moan like the desperate idiot that you were as he dragged you downwards at a pace you could barely keep up with, your hips coliding with his painfully and barbarically. That did, however, very little to stop you from bouncing brainlessly on his cock, your trembling legs tightening around him (as they so often did) and your hands curling into fists against his soft chest, doing everything you possibly could to keep up with him.

"There we go," He praised, gentle in spite of his harshly barked orders, one hand trailing down from your hip to grope your ass indulgently. "You're doing such a good job, liebling, you are making me so, so proud..."

"I love you," You whined desperately, hotly, biting down hard on your bottom lip as you continued to bounce his cock even harder, even faster. "I love you, I love you so much..."

"Mm, I love you too, sweetheart," Strade crooned with a broad, indulgent smile, his other hand reaching up to grope your chest as it heaved, up and down, newly pierced breasts bouncing in time with each of your erratic thrusts. "I love your pussy, anyway," He continued with a mean chuckle, pushing deeper inside of you as his calloused thumb dragged over your pert nipple, making you shriek. "And these tits, and how nicely your body bruises at the lightest of touches. Like you were made for me to destory over and over and over again...however can I resist?"

He sat up the best he could, in spite of your consistent thrusting, the hand on your ass pinning your body still against his chest as he pushed as deep as he could inside of you, like he was impaling you on his cock…and you certainly yowled loudly enough that it sounded like that.

"That's all that matters though, isn't it?" He asked breathlessly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours again, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. He was so hot. "That I love you...doesn't matter which parts I love, right?"

"Mm...mmhmm," You nodded, biting your lip to hold back your whimpers and whines, as the hand on your chest went down to grab one of your fists and thread your fingers together, giving him full oppurtunity to pull you in even closer. "Tell me you love me...t-tell me you'll never let me go..."

"Oh, mein schatz," He crooned, his eyes softening with delight, drawing circles into the back of your palm and smiling up at you, breathless, a heaving silhouette in the darkness of the room. "Of course, I love you...and of course, I'll kill you before I ever let you go again."

Your bitten lips, blooming and beaten with hot blood, trembled hesitantly, much like the soft, scarred thighs bracketing his hips, as a smile pulled at your features, giving away instantly just how deliriously happy you were to hear him say those words, and mean them. 

"Keep me, keep me forever, never let me go..."

"Never ever," He agreed with a shake of his head, holding your hand tighter as his thrusting grew erratic and hectic, and each string of words became grunts and growls. "That's my promise to you, liebe. And you're more than welcome to hold me to it..."

You couldn't think of anything else to do, other than kiss him. 

You pressed your fingers into his hair, now slightly damp with sweat (he worked so hard to provide you, like a good man did), and pulled his lips to yours, finally, finally, probing his hot, wet mouth with your tongue and tasting your own blood on his mouth. 

He let you do it, too, moaning softly against your trembling lips and finally admitting his own sensual, desperate hunger for you. He cradled your skull in hand, not gripping or pulling on your hair or trying to wrangle you into some semblance of submission, and let his body still completely, feeling your sinking hips on his and spilling over inside of you with a human-like murmur of subdued pleasure.

And that was all you needed.

You clenched down tightly on him with a wretched gasp, as you felt the warm seed claim your insides and spill down your thighs, and it was enough to push you far, far over that edge yourself.

In lieu of anything else (because how could you do anything else), you heaved out a tired groan between your whimpers of pain and excruciating pleasure, falling forward against Strade's heaving chest as he flopped back on the bed himself, his lungs taking in slow swallows of air, adjusting himself as you settled against him.

Your vision was still blurred with white spots, but you somehow felt grounded all the same as you felt his warm hand slowly stroke through your hair and down your sweaty back. 

You let out a soft purr, a sleepy smile on your face as he continued to stroke you, like an animal in his lap. 

“As loyal as a dog." Strade murmured fondly, tilting his head forward to kiss the crown of your head and nuzzling into your warmth. "Mm, no, actually. A dog has the good sense to growl or bite when you kick it. You just seem to cling harder.” He laughed kindly, giving his head a little shake, dragging his cheek against yours. “Even Ren isn’t as bad as you~”

You murmured sleepily, not responding to his teasing, too tired to, curling a little closer against him and shivering with pleasure as you felt a stream of his seed trickle down your thigh.

"Hmph…go back to sleep, love," He then said softly, gently, (more gentle than he should be), giving your head another kiss as he sat up a little more, swinging one leg over the side of the bed. "I've got work to do. You can stay up here, for now.”

"Noo, don't go..." You pleaded quietly, curling your fingers against him and nestling against his chest again as he swung the other leg down and started to stand. "Stay, stay with me, please..."

"So clingy," He chided with another laugh, ruffling your hair. "Settle down and go to sleep. I'll come back soon, okay?"

Strade’s voice was gentle and fond, but you knew that his word was law and he wasn’t to be argued with.

So, you slid back into the bed and curled your body in tight, shivering as he pulled the duvet upwards and covered your naked body.

“Thank you,” You said with a tired smile, letting your fingers drift down between your legs, feeling his cum still oozing out of you. “That was…it was nice.”

“Good,” He smiled, leaning in to kiss your head again, before standing up straight.

“Sleep well, mein schatz. I’ll be back up soon.”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

OKAY SINCE LITERALLY ONE (☝️) PERSON WHO IS NOT ALEX ASKED! Here are some more Texas!Buddie Thoughts:

When Eddie first joins the 126 (years before Buck arrives in SA) Paul looks at him, turns to TK and says, “Egg.” TK looks confused for a second, then gets it and asks, “Really? Your team or mine?” and Paul really isn’t sure, but DOES know there is a certain Queer Air about Eddie Diaz

I have decided that this is all happening post season seven

I have also decided Buck’s daughter’s name is Alicia, pronounced the Spanish way (Ah-Lee-See-Ah) because her mother is an old flame from Peru

Sometime between seasons 7 and 8, a social worker calls Buck and informs him that he has a biological six year old daughter and he has to choose between accepting his responsibility as her legal guardian or waiving all parental rights. He says “Of course. Yes, I’ll do that” and the social worker says, “Yes to which one?” bc they need a clear confirmation either way but Buck doesn’t realize because it’s not even a question, he has a DAUGHTER of course he’ll take her

Buck absolutely falls in love with this little girl from the get go. He’s wrapped around her pretty little finger like a blue ribbon babeyyyy!! He would move heaven and earth for this child! Go to hell and back!

He, however, isn’t the only one. Because after she’s living with him for about six weeks, Buck gets served with papers. Alicia’s grandparents are suing for custody.

Buck can’t bring himself to risk losing this fight. So he moves to San Antonio (where his old flame and her parents migrated to from Peru right before Alicia was born) so Alicia can see her grandparents as often as they want and Buck can still be her legal guardian

When Buck starts at the 126 (yes it’s still the 126 even though it’s set in San Antonio now) it’s sort of the inverse of Under Pressure—the whole house is all “Yeah yeah, Eddie ‘Pretty Boy�� Diaz, we all know you’ve got the calendar in the bag” and because he’s Eddie he’s like “Aw don’t say that, Mateo, at this point it could be anyone’s game!” All humble and shit but then TK spots Buck The New Guy and says “Idk I think Cali over here might give you a run for your money” and Eddie is just like. 🙃 McFuckingScuse Me?

Of course Eddie forgets any and all jealousy/insecurity the SECOND he finds out Buck has a kid

The first time Alicia meets Eddie she is incredibly shy about it, until Eddie hears Buck call Alicia some cute shit like “mi amorcito” (internally Eddie fucking MELTS )and is like “Oh you speak Spanish?” And Alicia’s eyes go bright and she immediately opens up and starts talking Eddie’s ear off in Spanish and loves him on the spot

This is post season seven so Buck knows he’s bi and knows there’s ✨something✨ between him and Eddie, but based on everything he’s learned from the rest of the 126, no one really knows much about his dating life or preferences. A few failed flings with girls, but that’s all he really knows.

The first time Chris and Alicia meet, Alicia assumes Chris knows Spanish because his dad does. She tries talking to him and he’s like ????? She then calls him a No Sabo kid and pledges to teach him better

Alicia loves Bluey. Chris complains when she comes over and puts it on, says he’s too old for little kids shows, but doesn’t make any effort to change it.

There comes a point in Buck and Eddie’s relationship that it’s clear they… well—their kids play together. Buck packs their lunches (since his captain at the 118 turned him into a pretty damned good chef). Eddie walks them to the bus and gives both of them hugs and kisses. Buck and Alicia spend more nights at the Diaz residence on the pull out couch than in their actual apartment. It’s all disgustingly domestic.

It’s not like Buck and Eddie are dating. But they’re also Not Not Dating.

Of course, neither of them are the ones to realize it. Marjan is. She says something along the lines of, “Well, yeah, now that Buck and Diaz are together.” And both of them proceed to freak out like “WOAH WOAH WOAH NOW THAT WE ARE WHAT NOW”

And Marjan is SO confused because, “What? Are you two seriously going to try and pull one over on us? You’re attached at the hip. Even your kids act like siblings.” And then she watches their faces change and realizes, “oh my gosh, you really have no idea do you?”

The rest of the 126 make a BEELINE for the exit when their shift is up, leaving Buck and Eddie alone to discuss.

So they go out, maybe get dinner, go two-stepping because it’s Texas and it’s A Thing. BuckFigure out What They Are. Maybe not all of the questions are answered by the end of it, but they definitely had a great time with one another! Eddie is an absolute gentleman and walks Buck back to his place.

Where Tommy is waiting for him in the front lobby. Because i can do whatever I want ❤️

[euclydya]

we definitely feel 🖤 adjacent...

squints. who am i

[t0ast-ghost]

The last one… it’s been coming for awhile…

Here’s my thoughts on Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

(Spoilers for- well— everything)

- Before watching this movie I was trying to figure out why they chose this name and was told by my mom it’s a Shakespeare reference which.. I should have guessed

- “A Nicholas Myer Film” Cool! Now we know who to blame or bow to

- The music is so fucking intense I’m worried now

- I know Christopher Plummer is famous, I can’t place the face though and I want to say I know the name from the muppet show

- WAIT. Michael Dorn… WORF

- Wanna let y��all know that there was a guy (Harve Bennet) who wanted to create a completely different sixth movie that would’ve been more like a prequel where they recasted everyone to have an “academy era” movie with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy shenanigans. Gene Roddenberry didn’t fucking like that idea (cause only he knows how to cast apparently)

- explosion :)

- Teacup that tells you what ship you’re on. I now understand why everyone hates Quark trying to spread his own brand when Starfleet clearly is trying to push their own into every single crevasse

- HIII SULU HIIII

- It’s nice that they gave him the ship he kept saying he was hoping for in voyage home

- I won’t make a fart joke out of “gaseous planetary anomalies” and I definitely won’t say that Q did it

- DAMN NOT THE TEACUP. NBC Hannibal would fucking hate this movie

- Forgot how much I freaking love George Takei and I am so happy they gave him more stuff to do in this movie

- Falling… for about 7 seconds which is about 4 seconds more than normal

- Fairly certain that’s Janice Rand (5:32) (edit: it is! Hi Janice!!!)

- “We have no need for assistance,” and “Stay out of the neutral zone,” sounds like challenge

- Kirk says “What are we doing here?” STARRRING IN THE SIXTH STAR TREK MOVIEE BABEYYYY

- Scotty bought a boat, Uhura teaches seminars at the academy, I love hearing about their lives, keep going

- “Where’s Spock?” Asked in the saddest wettest voice. Kirk’s got his priorities straight. Er- well- not straight exactly but they’re there

- Them trying to hide that the “special envoy” is Spock when Kirk is sitting there looking at him like this

- Sorry babygirl not taking in any of that information. I am taking in those beautiful eyes tho <3

- Ooooh starting this one off with Kirk and Spock on opposite political sides

- Kirk being the one who has to offer the olive branch probably because Spock thought he could trust him to be on the side of peace (which was a miscalculation cause he’s probably still pretty angry with the whole “you Klingon bastards killed my son” thing…)

- “I remind you this meeting is classified” as everybody splits off into chattering gossip

- Kirk actually getting angry at Spock for “volunteering” them. The giant empty room with Kirk in the shadows and only Spock in the light (plus that random person standing in a dark corner for some reason) augh the mise en scène is wonderful

- I don’t even know how to unpack all that. Kirk so prejudiced against the Klingons (finally taking a more antagonistic stance) and saying “You should have trusted me” WHICH IS WHAT SPOCK HAS ALWAYS DONE. Because he trusted that Kirk would ultimately want peace no matter how battered and broken he became.

- They changed Spock’s ears, made the points more curved into themselves

- Why does every new lieutenant like quoting regulations to Kirk? How many does he just regularly break?

- OH FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY DOES HE LOOK OVER AT SPOCK SO SOFTLY

- I love how shape her hair is (draw it draw it draw it dammnit)

- Whenever creating a Star Trek movie you need someone on the production team who loves the ship departing from space dock scenes

- “I can never forgive them for the death of my boy.” Kirk says my boy

- Okay yes, Valeris should have knocked before entering his room but Kirk should also know to lock his door when he’s talking to his diary

- Why is Valeris so involved in this movie? First she’s talking to Kirk and now we’re following her to Spock’s? Strange (my guess. She’s evil.)

- “It is a reminder to me that all things end.” Like your life. Twice. Also that’s a nice sentiment and all but it’s so sad with the context that even his own original timeline ends

- “Logic is the beginning of wisdom, Valeris, not the end.” YEAHHH OLDER SPOCK he’s got a more balanced view on the world and himself

- OKAY I absolutely adore the costume design, especially for Gorkon. Like the golden clips in the hair? The red suit adorned with studs and the giant silver necklace?? The beard??? Amazing

- I like that there’s a “chief of staff” for the Klingons. It’s like the manager at a party city

- “They all look alike” BRO THEY MOST FUCKINGLY DO NOT

- I love the chief of staff being so confused over what the napkin roll thing is. I feel that.

- Ah yes my favourite meal. Blue. With a side of orange of course.

- “I offer a toast. The Undiscovered Country…” Welp. He said it. Time to wrap up the movie

- YEP ITS SHAKESPEARE BABEYYY (thank you Spock for saying that it’s Hamlet, act III, scene I, cause I didn’t wanna look it up)

- “You’ve not experienced Shakespeare until you have read him in the original Klingon.” Quoi???

- Spock actively trying to stop Kirk from starting a war

- I think this is such a good part where the Klingons are trying to state their worries. The gradual (or not so gradual) need for assimilation to be apart of starfleet. This is a particularly big problem for the Klingons because so much of their culture has been entwined with violence which Starfleet seems almost hellbent to take away. As well as hearing troubling language such as “human rights” thrown in their faces

- IM SORRY. Kirk. You didn’t. You didn’t just compare someone to hitler.

- Spock looks actually so fucking pissed at Kirk

- “If there is to be a brave new world, our generation is going to have the hardest time living in it.” Gorkon dropping all the good lines

- McCoy just standing there adjusting his outfit and looking like the most tired man alive

- “I’m going to sleep this off.” “I’m going to go find a pot of black coffee.” Both Kirk and McCoy leaving Spock :(((

- The shaky swoop of the camera as Kirk and the rest of the bridge realize that somehow they just fired on the Klingon vessel

- Don’t care about the rest of the movie I just love the scene where everything starts floating on the Klingon vessel

- AUGH THOSE SPACE SUITS OKAY I DO STILL CARE

- Love me some good ol’ bad 3D graphics blood

- Times like this I wish I’d never skipped my tlhIngan Hol classes

- Floating dead Klingons. What. A. Scene.

- Aw Fuck Dude. The one guy getting gravity back online and everything falling to the ground and blood splattering and AUGHHH. Every time I think this scene can’t get better, it does!

- HIII MCCOY!!! He got to rush onto the bridge just to ask “are we firing torpedoes” and I appreciate that :)

- Kirk and Spock fighting over who should go to the Klingon ship and Spock saying “perhaps you’re right” and then putting his hand on Kirk’s shoulder made me more nervous than it should have. Darn you Wrath of Khan! You’ve given me trust issues. (but you're telling me this isn't supposed to look like a nerve pinch???)

- Also Kirk ultimately still trying to maintain peace. It’s his knee jerk reaction to this. He’s got what he’s said he’s wanted when incased in his own emotions about loosing his son but he knows it’s not right

- and finally, yay! McCoy gets to go on the mission!

- The actor for the Klingon that greets them is so good at the rage mixing with grief and sadness

- McCoy to the rescue!!

- Either Klingon blood is pink (like in that one game) or they wanted to keep it pg-13

- “He’s gone into some kind of damned arrest!” McCoy proceeds to straddle the Klingon on top of the table so he has leverage to do proper CPR… I have no thoughts on this that I’d like to share

- I do not believe McCoy’s punches would be strong enough to restart a heart. I’m sorry but they look so puny

- The blood bubbling as Gorkon dies is so fucking good oh my heart

- This is all happening at 2:00 fucking AM??? No wonder Kirk is tired

- “I sympathize, Mr. Scott.” Love when they make Spock say he ‘understands’ or ‘sympathizes’

- SAREKKKK!! Hehe hiiii

- “We are experiencing technical malfunction. All backup systems inoperative.” “Excellent. I… I mean, too bad.” A banger scene from Uhura and Chekov

- Rosanna DeSoto as Azetbur (the Chancellor’s daughter) plays the part so well. Again their portrayal of grief and anger while trying to get to peace is so fucking amazing. LOOK AT HER FACE

- Maybe I’m not so happy about McCoy being on this mission after all…

- The giant circular judgement chamber is so fucking cool

- MICHAEL DORN 🫵

- The sparking gavel <3

- I love the beginning of a translator translating all the Klingon’s words

- WORF IS THEIR DEFENDANT???

- That one Klingon that laughs at McCoy’s joke, wanna be friends?

- “You say you are due for retirement. May I ask, do your hands shake?” “Objection!” “I was nervous!” “No. You were incompetent.” This is like watching reality tv for me. That’s some good drama

- phew thank goodness they’re not killing McCoy. He’s too pretty to die

- The back and forth slow zoom in on McCoy & Kirk and the judge didn’t have the intensity they were going for but I appreciate the effort

- “Better to kill them now and get it over with.” That’s nice Scotty

- Oh shit Spock loosing both of his husbands in one sentencing. That cannot be good for the economy

- “An ancestor of mine maintained that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains however improbable, must be the truth.” Ancestor? You mean fucking Arthur Conan Doyle?? Or Sherlock??? Either way that’s a hecking lore drop

- They’ve got a murder mystery aboard the Enterprise, this is my dream

- Hey babe, new Klingon dog beast just dropped (Jackal Mastiff)

- I let out an audible “aww” of pity when I saw McCoy wrapped up in a blanket

- I can’t believe I’m only halfway through this movie what is even happening anymore

- Had a brief pause to voice crackedly yell a little bit. Something along the lines of “I do not care. I do not care! I don’t care! I just want Spock- I just want them with Spock! I do not care!” And then let myself breathe for a second or two (and then made chicken nuggets). The outburst was born of a deep sadness from the fact that they can’t just be happy and retired together. Ok, back to the movie.

- Martia just handed Kirk a blunt change my mind

- “Somebody up there wants you out of the way.” of course, it can’t just be about actual politics between the Klingons and Federation, it has to actually be about Kirk and somebody trying to kill him. Dang it.

- “But the killers may still be among them.” …wait a damn minute.. you’re saying there’s imposters- *pulled away forcefully*

- I love how every commanding officer comes into the kitchen absolutely furious that someone fired a phaser

- On that note: why is there a kitchen? And why are they preparing various cooked birds? Who’s having a banquet tonight?

- What kind of bullshit evolution puts a species genitals in their knees?

- Hate how Kirk just lets McCoy go treat the highly dangerous being alone

- “Spock was right” NO SHIT HE’S LITERALLY AN ANCESTOR OF SHERLOCK

- YASSS SULU!!! Now get your rest you beautiful man

- Spock will literally leave no stone unturned for his husbands

- Either Martia has some really good prosthetics in the cave or she’s wearing someone else’s skin… NEVERMIND haha she’s just a shapeshifter

- Chekov was so proud of himself dammit. Too bad he was so utterly wrong

- Also Valeris is so expressive, kinda loving it

- The planet seems kinda nice in the daylight.. minus the dead body I’d say it’s pretty similar to winters in Canada (yes I made the joke, please delete it before posting) (edit: nope <3 just like Canada. Made your bed, lie in it)

- “Leave me. I’m finished.” Goddamn this man’s worst enemy is the cold. Both times McCoy just gives up and tells Spock or Kirk to leave him (First time being in All Our Yesterdays)

- “If they’re even looking for us.” Bones. Spock would literally NEVER leave the both of you. That aside the rest of the Enterprise crew also loves you like crazy

- Everyone laughing on the channel with the Klingons is so funny

- Holyy shit. Is Kirk going to fight.. himself???

- McCoy angel <3

- “I can’t believe I kissed you.” Yeah. Me neither. You didn’t actually have too.

- Poor McCoy holy cannoli oil. He’s knocked out and when he wakes up immediately gets trampled by two versions of his husband

- HIIII JACKAL MASTIFF HIII

- “Since you’re all going to die anyway, why not tell you.” When I go to watch the cinema sins video (I know I’m sorry) on this movie I bet they’ll say “klingonposition” or smt like that here

- If it’s just Chang that wants Kirk dead that’s so disappointing

- McCoy looks over and sees this

- “What you want is irrelevant, what you’ve chosen is at hand.” SPOCK IS ANGRYYYYY SPOCK IS PISSSED

- Please someone let McCoy take a shower, he stinks

- WAIT VALERIS WAS THE ONE SITTING IN THE DARK CORNER OF THE ROOM IN THE BEGINNING

- The distorted wavy angle that almost feels like it’s going side to side dutch angles with each of Spock’s footsteps as he nears Valeris

- I WOULD HAVE SCREAMED IN THEATRES

- Valeris is fucking crying omg what the actual fuck

- I honestly don’t know how to take that apart. I’m still shocked and screaming a little. The reactions from each crew member being just absolutely horrified

- I’m still reeling from that but I gotta acknowledge the fact that Spock says “I prefer it dark” when Kirk enters his quarters. So did I as a teenager and my mom would tell me it was bad for my eyes

- “You and the doctor might have been killed.” “The night is still young.” They are three months from retirement. Goddammnit let them just get to be retired together on a farm or condo or smt. I don’t give a shit just let them rest.

- “Spock, you want to know something? Everybody’s human.” NO THEYRE NOT IN THIS CONTEXT. That was kind of a big point made in this movie. I think the point you’re trying to make is ‘everyone in the whole galaxy forever will always make mistakes.’

- “Doctor, would you care to assist me in performing surgery on a torpedo?”

- Chang just said, “ah the games afoot” why are there so many Sherlock Holmes references in this one? Like I know they have a hard on for famous literature but this one is named after a Shakespeare quote. Just saying it’s a bit crowded.

- They really wanted McCoy to say smt doctory while making the torpedo so they chose “we’ve got a heart beat”

- I think it would’ve been better if Chang said to be or not to be in Klingon like they did at the dinner table

- So they saved the day? Yay? Kirk and McCoy should legally not actually be there- oh they’re all clapping for them who cares

- SPOCK GETS TO SAY GO TO HELL

- Kirk did not just fucking quote Peter Pan. Shut the fuck up.

- McCoy’s look says it all. And by that I mean just let him retire with his husbands. Oh my goodness.

- Just for my mom I'm mentioning the flared pants (Spock and McCoy look kinda goofy tho)

- Ohhh so this is where they change it from “where no man” to “where no one”

- And the Enterprise rides off into the sun. What kind of Grease ending is that?

Awwe okay all of their signatures at the end was a nice touch

I don’t have much more to say here, I forgot how fun but time consuming it was to do these thought posts. I really really appreciate everyone who likes these posts because it means y’all took the time to read this which is just something so meaningful to me.

Thank you all so much <3

Masterpost

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hiiiiiiiii hdisjxksjdj I have 2 ideas for the fic writing request! Feel free to choose whichever one you'd like to do or both! 💝💝💝 love youuu

1: Steve's parents meet his new friends and are shocked at how happy he is. + they see that Steve and his friends all wear a similar-style friendship bracelet made by the kids.

2: platonic stobin with the song lyric (brother by Kodaline: I took out the chorus bc it doesn't match here):

When we were young we were the ones

The kings and queens oh yeah, we ruled the world

We smoked cigarettes, man, no regrets

Wish I could relive every single word

We've taken different paths

And travelled different roads

I know we'll always end up on the same one when we're old

And when you're in the trenches

And you're under fire I will cover you

If I was dying on my knees

You would be the one to rescue me

And if you were drowned at sea

I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

we'll go deeper than the ink

Beneath the skin of our tattoos

Though we don't share the same blood

You're my brother and I love you that's the truth

We're living different lives

Heaven only knows

If we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes

Five years, twenty years, come back

It will always be the same

ANOTHA ONE (BUT ACTUALLY TWO)! This first one for some reason got me fucked up. I wrote so much, then 75% of the way through, I hated it and deleted it and started over. The second one was a lot easier, but I did get a little carried away (could have gotten MORE carried away if I didn't have a tiny bit of self control left). ANYWAYS YAY FOR FINISHING ONE OF MY CLASSES WITH A 94 AND BEING ABLE TO POST THESE! LOTS OF LOVE BABEYYYY - Mickala ❤️

------------------------------------------

PROMPT 1

“Where is it?”

Steve was panicking.

Okay, panicking might be dramatic.

It was just a bracelet.

But it wasn’t just a bracelet, actually.

El made them for everyone. They all matched, but she’d added everyone’s initials to theirs so it was still special for each of them.

When she gave Steve his, he hid in the bathroom and cried.

Despite being the King for years, he’d never had any friends like the kids and Robin.

Eddie either, but he’d already passed the line of “friends” into “love of his life”, so he didn’t count.

So when he looked down while he was cooking and realized it wasn’t wrapped around his wrist the way it had been for months, he started to worry.

When he couldn’t find it in the kitchen or the path from the kitchen to the car or the car itself or his bedroom or his bathroom, he started to feel a weight settle in his chest.

He wouldn’t give up yet though. He’d gone outside to check the chemicals in the pool this morning, maybe it had fallen off there.

Just when he was about to go look, he heard a car door slam. Then another one. Then keys at the front door.

Of all the times for his parents to decide they live here, they choose now? When he’d abandoned the casserole he was making on the counter and turned most of the place upside down in the last hour looking for his bracelet?

He took a deep breath, ready to try to brush aside the panic to make sure they didn’t find his behavior unacceptable or suspicious.

“Oh good. You’re home.”

Anne Harrington’s voice used to make Steve relax. She wasn’t ever a great mother, but she was at least here until he hit middle school. Her presence, her voice usually made his dad remain calm.

But when she started going away with his dad, her voice became a dreaded sound.

Instead of it easing the tension he held in his back and jaw, it caused the tension to arrive faster.

Richard Harrington was the root cause of all of that tension, though.

“What’s going on in here?”

Steve tried to make himself appear smaller, that’s what his dad liked from him, and that’s what kept him safe.

“You caught me as I was making dinner. I haven’t been able to clean up yet.”

“Is that a casserole?”

Anne was walking up to the counter, peering down at the casserole dish as she spoke.

“Yes. I’m having friends over later.”

He was at least. Before his parents made a surprise visit.

Just as he checked the clock to see if he had time to call everyone to cancel, he heard more car doors.

Fuck, how late was it?

6:30. Shit.

Of course the one time Eddie gets everyone here on time is the one time his parents decide to show up.

El had joined this campaign at the insistence of Eddie and Will, so he knew she’d notice his bracelet was missing.

He couldn’t let her close enough to see.

No hug hello. No sitting in the room while they played. No hugging goodbye.

He could do that.

El barged in the house first, excitement palpable before she even made it into the kitchen.

“Who the hell is this?”

The voices of the others could be heard walking through the door as El froze with wide eyes.

“Mom, Dad, this is El. She’s Chief Hopper’s daughter? I babysat her.”

They looked at him like he’d grown three heads.

“Steve! Tell Dustin that I’m supposed to be the fun parent!”

Steve’s face paled. Eddie.

Every possible reaction his parents could have ran through Steve’s mind as he actually did start to panic.

Suddenly, everyone from Hellfire was standing in his kitchen. With his parents.

And an uncooked casserole.

He reached for the bracelet on his wrist, then remembered he lost it, and then he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He couldn’t cry in front of his parents.

He walked out of the room, ignoring the confused stares and murmurs from everyone, including his mother.

He walked up the stairs, to his bedroom, then fell on his bed.

No tears fell, but they were there, waiting. For what, he didn’t know.

He could hear footsteps outside of his room. A pause. A gentle knock.

“Steve?”

His mother.

She opened the door slowly, probably just as nervous as he suddenly was.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he managed to choke out.

His mom sat on the edge of the bed, leaving enough space between them that he couldn’t feel any warmth from her, which is how it’s always been.

“We probably should have called.”

It wasn’t an apology, just a statement. More for her than him since she was feeling just as awkward about this as he was.

“Those kids are the ones you babysat?”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve gotten quite big, haven’t they?”

Steve had no idea what she was doing, but he could answer her questions.

“Yeah. Don’t really need me anymore.”

“They’re here, though.”

“I’ll send them home,” Steve started to get up, but his mom’s hand on his shoulder kept him from standing.

“Don’t. We just dropped by to grab a few things. We have a flight in a few hours.”

Ah. So they weren’t staying. If he hadn’t been home when they got here, he probably never would have even known they were here.

For some reason, that hurt. Even after all these years, all these times being left alone.

“They must really love you.”

Her voice sounded different, shaky. Like she was actually trying to show an emotion other than passiveness or disappointment.

She was holding something, he could see her rubbing her fingers along whatever it was.

And then he caught the bright pink.

His bracelet.

“Where did you find that?”

“It was on the ground by the front door. Your father didn’t see it, but I picked it up. Thought it may have belonged to a girl you brought home. Then I saw what all those kids were wearing and saw your initials on it.” She handed him the bracelet and he felt relief wash over him. “You’re lucky to have them.”

He looked at her. Her lips wobbling, her eyes watery, like she was actually happy for him, or maybe a little sad about something else.

Regret. That’s what that look was.

“I wish I had known that you had so many people who love you. I wish I had been here to see you find happiness. You didn’t have any for so long.”

She’d seen it then. She’d seen the way he had to fight loneliness despite being surrounded by people at school. She’d seen the way his face dropped every time they told him they were going on another business trip, how he started to hate that they even bothered to come home at all. She’d seen the way he filled his home with idiot teenagers who barely respected him or the house, who just wanted a place to drink away from their parent’s prying eyes.

She’d seen it and let him feel that hurt anyway.

She still didn’t say she was sorry.

But he thought about if he even wanted that now. If he could even believe it or accept it coming from her.

Probably not.

He took the bracelet from her and wrapped it around his wrist, tightening the string until it was snug.

“I didn’t have anyone for so long because you didn’t seem to think I needed anyone. I don’t know who I would be without them. They’ve done more for me than you or dad ever have, and that’s why I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” Steve sighed. It was exhausting that he even had to say this. “You’re right, though. I am lucky to be loved by them. This bracelet is just one of the physical reminders of that. Thanks for finding it.”

A single tear fell from her eyes, but Steve wasn’t going to let himself feel bad. She could have done this years ago when he needed it most.

Now he had those kids downstairs. He had Eddie. He had Robin. Joyce and Hopper. Claudia. Even the Wheelers.

Suddenly, Eddie was standing in his door, a panicked look on his face.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” He wasn’t. “You may need to come downstairs. Erica’s kind of doing that thing she does with your dad.”

Steve’s eyes widened while his mom just looked confused.

Then he heard it.

He jumped up and ran down the stairs, Eddie close on his heels.

“...and another thing! This house isn’t even decorated nicely! You have all this money, right? Why don’t you spend it on things that actually look good? Or a couch that’s actually comfy. How am I supposed to sleep on a piece of plywood with itchy fabric on it? Have you ever tried to sleep on that couch? Probably not since you can’t be bothered to come home.”

Steve put his hand on Erica’s shoulder while he glanced over at his father’s red face. He obviously wasn’t going to do anything to a child, but he didn’t want to take any risks, not with the kids he loved so much.

“Alright, everyone in the dining room! Get your game setup while I put the casserole in the oven.”

Erica glared up at him, but relented when everyone started moving towards the dining room.

Eddie watched as she left too, but he remained next to Steve.

Steve turned to face his father, who was certainly going to have a lot to say to him, but would probably wait until he was alone.

“The neighbor told me you had kids coming and going from here all the time, but I thought they were losing it. Especially when they said that the Munson van was parked in the driveway most nights. I guess they aren’t losing it, after all.”

His tone was outwardly calm, but Steve was well-versed in the silent rage boiling underneath.

He was also well-versed in how his father refused to make their family look bad, even if it was just a bunch of kids.

“They needed a place to play their game. I have plenty of room. It keeps them out of trouble and happy. I get to have people in the house. It’s a win win.”

Steve wasn’t usually this bold with his father, but he knew he was fine with Eddie next to him and his family in the next room.

His dad grunted and looked down at the bracelet wrapped around Steve’s wrist, and the matching one wrapped around Eddie’s.

Steve could feel his brain trying to figure everything out. He didn’t say anything to help.

“I’m sure your mother mentioned we’re just grabbing some things and leaving,” Richard finally said.

“She did.”

“Make sure the house is clean before we get back.”

“Which will be…?”

“Within the next few weeks.”

“Sure.”

They weren’t gonna be back in a few weeks. They probably wouldn’t be back for months, if ever.

Steve noticed that they barely had any of their personal belongings left in the house. He noticed that they had been slowly moving out of the house since his senior year of high school. He noticed that they rarely got mail delivered anymore, and that they didn’t send the gardener or pool cleaner by unless they were coming home.

He knew they had another house in upstate New York, one he’d never even been to and only found out about because his dad’s secretary mentioned it the last time he’d called looking for them.

He figured if they were coming back in a few weeks, it would probably be to tell him they were selling this house and he had to leave.

Which was fine.

He looked down at his bracelet as his dad left the kitchen, tugging on the end of it to make it even tighter.

He had people who would help him if he got kicked out. He had family.

-------------------------------------------------------

PROMPT 2

In 1987, Robin Buckley leaves for college.

They knew it was coming, her gap year truly could only be a year, after all.

Steve tried to put on a brave face.

He was proud of her, of course. She got into Purdue on one of the hardest academic scholarships to get. They’d let her, even encouraged her, to take the gap year, postponing her scholarship for her new start date.

She was leaving tomorrow and Steve didn’t know how to say goodbye.

Eddie was helping with some of the last minute packing she had to do, but he was trying to stay out of their way, give them time and space to enjoy what time they had left.

Suddenly, Steve knew what he needed to do.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got supplies for tattoos right?”

“Tattoos, plural? Going from none to multiple in one go may not be a great idea, sweetheart.”

Robin was watching their interaction with curious eyes, but wasn’t saying anything.

“No, just one for me. But maybe one for Robin too?” He pointed the question at her, giving her a small smile.

“What? A tattoo? Now?”

“If you want. Just something small for us to have before you go.”

Maybe it was a stupid idea.

It’s not like she was leaving the damn country. He’d probably see her once a month at least.

But he was scared that she’d get to college and find a lot of smart friends who could keep up with her and find fewer reasons to visit here, and then Steve wouldn’t be able to convince her to stick around and he’d be alone.

A tattoo would at least ensure she was thinking of him, too.

“What would we get?”

“What about an ice cream cone?”

“Or a scoop?”

Eddie laughed. “You really want me to tattoo ice cream scoops on your bodies? Forever? You know these are permanent.”

Steve and Robin giggled together and nodded.

So it was settled.

They finished what they had to, waving a quick goodbye to Robin’s parents and letting them know she’d be back late. They reminded her they were heading out early in the morning and she ignored them. When they got to Eddie’s trailer, the nerves sunk in for both of them. Not enough to avoid getting the tattoos, but enough to make them hold hands while Eddie prepped the tattoo gun and ink for Steve.

“Alright, where do you want it big boy?”

He pointed to his ankle and looked at Robin, who nodded back at him in agreement.

So Eddie began.

Steve flinched at the first few lines in his skin, but got used to it quickly.

Robin held his hand and watched, talking to him about random things that she thought of that they could do when he visited her on campus.

Eddie finished quickly, smiling up at them both.

When he cleaned up and set up the new needle and ink for Robin, Steve held her hand and talked about all the things he was excited for her to do when she left. He even joked that she’d probably find a girlfriend in her Women’s Studies course.

“I mean that class is just gonna be a bunch of queer women, you better make a move.”

“You don’t know that!” she exclaimed while rolling her eyes.

When Robin’s tattoo was done, they smiled at each other. Robin kissed Eddie’s cheek in thanks and Steve kissed his lips, whispering a quiet thanks against them.

Even if Robin moved on, they’d always have this.

—-------

In 1991, shortly after Robin managed to graduate from school, Steve and Eddie had a massive fight.

They’d never had one before, not like this.

Not one that led to Eddie walking out and staying with Wayne.

Steve’s first call was to Wayne, making sure Eddie was safe.

His second call was to Robin, begging her to come stay with him for a few days so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

He hadn’t been alone in his house since the fall of 1986 and it was suddenly bigger and quieter than ever.

She quickly drove to him, knowing he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t struggling.

When she arrived, Steve sobbed into her shoulder for hours, not even saying anything, not really able to. She let him, didn’t offer any words of comfort, just running her hands through his hair and making sure he kept breathing in and out.

Eventually, she asked.

“I thought you guys were doing great. What happened?”

Steve shrugged, but he knew. He knew that for a few weeks now Eddie had been working a lot more, that Steve had been working a lot more, both of them trying to save money to buy a house that wasn’t a constant reminder of everything bad in their lives. He knew that neither of them were giving each other the attention they deserved. He knew the tiny little snippy comments they both were giving each other kept adding up into a form of resentment he didn’t think either of them could’ve been capable of. He knew when he missed their date because he forgot to call when he found out about the overtime he was scheduled for, it would lead to a pissed off Eddie.

“We’re just under a lot of stress right now.”

“Worse than the literal end of the world?”

“No. Just. Real life is kind of harder sometimes. Is that crazy to think?”

“I guess not. But you guys love each other more than anything. This is just a bump, right?”

“I dunno. He’s staying with Wayne for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say. Wayne said he’s barely seen him.”

“Maybe he just needs to cool off. Bet he’ll be back tomorrow.”

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t back that week at all. Robin had to go back to campus to pack before they locked her out permanently, so he was left to work and come home to an empty house.

It sucked, point blank.

But Wayne called him every night before he left for work, and Steve knew that at least Eddie was safe, still going to work, still eating.

The day Robin was supposed to be back, Eddie showed up. He let himself in, which was a good sign. He sat down next to Steve on the couch, another good sign. He sighed, not a great sign, but maybe not a bad one.

He looked at Steve with tears in his eyes.

“I wanna come home.”

Steve let out a sob and folded into Eddie’s chest, Eddie wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Sh. I’m sorry too, Stevie.”

When Robin arrived, she saw them asleep on the couch, thankfully fully dressed, and smiled to herself. She made her way up to the guest room that was basically hers and went to sleep, content with knowing that she’d gotten Steve through.

—--------

In 1997, Robin lands her dream job offer. Things move quickly. She’s supposed to fly to Italy in three days, but she’s stuck on how to tell Steve.

Steve and Eddie moved to Boston when she did, insisting that they wanted to live a city life. Now that the kids were all gone, they had no reason to stay in Hawkins.

They sold the Harrington mansion, then their own home, and found a nice two bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city. Steve worked in a bakery, so his hours were a bit all over the place depending on the season. Eddie worked as a sound mixer at a record label, which wasn’t his dream job, but close enough that he was happy.

Robin had been working as a tutor for years, enjoying the one on one with teenagers who needed the extra help in their high school foreign language classes. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough.

But she applied to be a teacher, part of a study abroad project for prospective Boston University students that reached 24 different countries. She didn’t really expect to get it, her experience and education level not quite where most of the other applicants were.

But she’d impressed the interviewers with her knowledge of multiple languages, not just fluency in one. They expressed immediate interest and asked her which country she’d prefer.

She told them she preferred Italy, but hadn’t expected to get her first choice.

She did.

And now she had to tell Steve she was leaving the country for at least a year.

She called Eddie first to warn him. He was excited for her, of course, but nervous about how Steve would react.

They frequently joked that she was the side chick in their relationship because Steve would cancel plans just to hang out with Robin. Even as grown adults with grown adult responsibilities, Eddie had to remind them to get some sleep during sleepovers like they were teenagers.

He thought it was adorable.

He told her to come over for dinner, she could talk to him then and he would be there as backup.

So she did.

And it went okay at first. Steve was so excited for her, he kept talking about how she could send real Italian chocolate like he got on a vacation with his parents when he was young.

But then it seemed to slowly sink in what this meant.

No more random meetups in the city for coffee or drinks, no more dinners here at their apartment, calls would have to be scheduled in advance because of the time difference. No hugs or cuddling for a year.

“Maybe we could try to come visit in a few months?” He looked at Eddie hopefully.

“Maybe, sweetheart,” Eddie responded with a small smile.

He knew their finances weren’t bad, but a trip to Italy certainly wasn’t something they were prepared for. Plus, taking that much time off of work would be difficult. They didn’t have another sound mixer right now, which meant if he missed more than a day or two, they’d pretty much have to close up shop.

“I mean, I’m sure with what they’re paying me, I could probably come visit during the Christmas break,” Robin added, though she didn’t sound so sure.

Eddie squeezed Steve’s knee, sensing the tears he was trying to hold back.

“We’ve got time to figure it out.”

Nothing got planned for a while though, because Robin was busier than expected.

She worked six days a week, and on the seventh day, she was usually still grading papers or setting up meetings with the other teachers in the program.

Steve felt like he was fighting constantly for her attention, which wasn’t fair to think because she was just doing her job.

Eddie knew he was getting into a depressive episode about a month in.

He called Robin while Steve was asleep, coming up with a plan to get him out of it before it got bad.

“I’ve got enough money for the flight, but we need somewhere to stay. I think I can swing five days off for both of us if I tell his boss what’s going on. But I can’t do it for at least a month.”

“Okay, just stay with me. I have a pull out couch. My neighbor brings me so much food all the time, I’m sure she’ll wanna feed you both too. I still have to work, but you can explore while I do. Have you guys even taken a real vacation before?”

“Does visiting Dustin count?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

The plan was in place. Steve remained sad, but Robin tried to call as often as she could.

But almost exactly one month later, Steve came home to Eddie packing luggage. His heart stopped for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

Eddie smiled at him, walking over to wrap his arms around him.

“Packing for our trip.”

“What trip?”

“To Italy.”

Steve’s heart started racing.

“What?”

“Gotta get you to see your girl, don’t I? She’s got a couch with our name on it.”

Steve cried for the next hour, leaving wet kisses on Eddie’s cheeks and lips as he helped pack.

When they arrived in Italy, Robin was at the airport holding the chocolates Steve so desperately wanted, but he didn’t care about in that moment.

He was back with his platonic soulmate.

—------

Being engaged wasn’t that important to Steve or Eddie. They couldn’t legally get married anyway, so what was the point of the whole song and dance of asking and wearing a ring?

They’d belonged to each other for so long, it wasn’t necessary.

But in 2003, Eddie changed his mind.

It happened because Robin said something about how marriage equality was looking more likely, like maybe she could actually marry her girlfriend who followed her back from Italy.

And Eddie couldn’t have Robin get engaged before him.

So he found a ring, just a simple gold band with a single diamond. He got it engraved to say “scar on my heart” which was the title of the first song Eddie wrote about Steve for Steve.

He made plans. He called the kids and made them swear not to say anything.

He called Robin and asked if she could be there.

But he should have known Robin couldn’t keep a secret.

“I’m just so excited!”

“For what? It’s just ice cream at the park,” Steve said curiously.

“It’s not just ice cream! It’s a big moment!”

And then she realized what she said. Eddie glared at her.

“What’s the big moment?”

Eddie sighed. He could just say Robin was being dramatic, but Steve wouldn’t buy it, not with the way she looked guilty of murder now.

“I have something to ask you.”

Maybe Steve would leave it.

“What is it? Why does Robin need to be there? Just ask me now.”

Guess not.

“Since I can never have plans that work, fine.” Eddie pulled the box out of his pocket, sending one more glare at Robin, who already had tears in her eyes. He started to drop to one knee but felt hands on his arms.

“Wait! Are you proposing to me?”

“Uh. Trying to, yes.”

Steve started laughing. Not really the reaction he was hoping for.

Then, he pulled a box from his pocket.

Robin clapped and cheered from the side while Eddie just stared in disbelief.

“What?”

“I called Robin to come this weekend so I could propose!”

“But. I called her to come!”

“You both are dinguses! Eddie called me an hour before Steve did if it matters, but you both are ridiculous.”

They looked at each other and laughed as Robin’s words sank in.

“I guess I know your answer then,” Eddie said.

“Ask me anyway.”

“Yeah, I came all this way to see proposals, give me a show!” Robin exclaimed loudly.

“You just need ideas for your girlfriend.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie turned to Steve, got down on one knee, and smiled up at him.

“We’re living in a time where we might be able to actually get married and there is nothing I want more than to be able to call you my husband. I’ve loved you for nearly 20 years, and I know I’ll love you more in the next 20, and the 20 after that. What do you say, big boy? Wanna marry me?”

Steve was crying and Eddie could hear Robin sniffling to the side.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eddie placed the ring on Steve’s finger and kissed him so hard, Robin groaned.

“Okay, my turn.”

Eddie stood up with a smirk as Steve got down on one knee.

“Eds, I’ve never been that great with words, but you’ve loved me anyway. Even when I may not have deserved it, even when it may have been hard, even before I was ready to love you back. I’m not going anywhere no matter what the law says, but I want you to wear this so you know I’m all in. Will you be all in too?”

Robin was crying harder now, but Eddie didn’t care.

He nodded and let Steve place the ring on his finger.

Then they both pulled Robin into a hug, all of them crying into each other’s shoulders.

It made sense that she was here for this. She was Steve’s other half, Eddie was just an addition, and he was fine with that.

[gayrootvegetable]

year in review: favorite lines :3

thank you to @songliili and @littlemisskittentoes for tagging me!

RULES: simply share your top three/top five/however many favorite snippet(s)/line/quotes/paragraphs from your published fics (or wips) and don't forget to share the link!

i didn't write too much this year (i say that but it's the most i've ever written ever lol), but i still wanted to scour my fics to see what i could find! let's go babeyyyy 🫡

heartstopper fics

from incriminating evidence:

Charlie: we need to flee the country Charlie: my mum found our lube Nick: Booking our plane tickets right fucking now.

from tooth hurty (2:30) in the morning:

Most people think the tooth fairy has magic powers, like being able to walk through walls or perhaps spawning into the correct bedroom. But, no, breaking and entering is standard practice.

(03:07) Nick: i think i’m in love with the tooth fairy (03:07) Nick: his eyes are so blue and his lips are so soft (08:16) Christian: Jesus Christ, mate. How strong were those painkillers?

rwrb fics

from i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you:

Their attention is pulled forward as the GSA meeting begins. Henry tries to pull his hand back, but Alex tightens his grip.  They hold hands for the rest of the meeting.

from too in love to think straight (rwrb drabble collection):

Alex attempts an explanation, but it only makes things worse. "Yeah, you know, sometimes in high school my friend Liam and I would make out during our sleepovers."  Henry doesn't know how to respond, so he starts with the obvious.  "I thought you were straight." "I am." Alex shrugs. There's so much to unpack here.

turns out i think i'm hilarious 🤭 for real though, i'm proud of what i was able to accomplish this year. i look forward to my brain thinking of more bangers in 2024 hehe

i have no idea who was already tagged so i'm just gonna wing it sjhfjshdgfj

no pressure tagging: @heartitinthesilence @tinyarmedtrex @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @read-and-write- @ssmtskw @14carrotghoul @mother-i-crave-rwrb @inexplicablymine @cultofsappho @firenati0n @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes @msmarvelouswinchester @anincompletelist @matherines @benwvatt @bidoofenergy @leojfitz @adreamareads @rockyroadkylers @lizzie-bennetdarcy and anyone else who wants to participate !!

[triptychgardener]

Thoughts on Junerosemary?

You must be new here. This blog, my writing, Junerosemary fuckin' BUILT this town. Still my number one/OT3. Go read Early June for a lot of my thoughts but in general? A+. All the different combinations are just stellar.

Rosemary is an obvious classic, the snarky broads, the disastrous lesbians. I don't need to explain why its great, you already know.

Junerose is just so, so sweet. They're just really good friends and I think that translates into a wonderful relationship overall! June is one of the few people Rose will listen to because she knows that June will generally be fairly genuine with her (if a total smartass). The needles, her gifting Rose the tools to get a new hobby and to go absolutely apeshit in the game. [S] Seer: Descend in its entirety. It's just good.

And Junekan, the dark horse of the three but maybe my favorite (also a perfect example of my belief that in any OT3, the least explored ship must be very compelling.) Their initial conversation where June tricks Kanaya into thinking she's Rose (which. i mean come on), the utter bamboozlement at every step. If only Kanaya could have figured it out. And in general they have a lot of interesting thematic parallels! Occasionally destructive attraction to the two light players. Themes of parenthood. Similar hairstyles. You get the gist. I wish we had gotten to see more of them interacting in the main comic, but that's where I come in babeyyyy.

[pooklet]

Get to know you: Sims Style

I was tagged by @pockethamster and @furbyq-sims so here we goooo.

What’s your favorite Sims death?

In general: the satellite, cuz of the piano replacement that I have. It is also one of the most efficient ways to cull townies.

Specific deaths that have happened to my sims: Tiara dying in a toddler potty. No death in my game has ever/will ever be funnier.

Alpha CC Semi-realism or Maxis Match?

Semi-realism. Maybe it's cuz I started playing when that was the common style, but maxis match just looks very ... flat to me? Very papery. I've seen it done in a really fun, cartoon-y style by some creators, but that seems to be the minority and most of it seems to hew very neutral/natural toned and I am not about that lol. Even IRL, I like to surround myself with bright, colorful stuff.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

Like, keep them thin? lmao no. I let their personality determine whether they exercise, but that has nothing to do with them being fat, as far as I'm concerned. I use a lot of fat bodyshapes because I'm fat myself and I like to have a lot of variety in my game. I don't have any system for deciding whether I use the maxis default body or a custom shape, I just go with what looks right to me.

Do you move objects?

Are there people who don't?

Favorite Mod?

Hm, either ACR v2 or Walk Through Blocks. I like my sims to be able to make as many autonomous decisions as possible, and navigate the spaces that I cram full of clutter.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

In the Sims 1 the first expansion I got was Hot Date. I played TS2 from release, so my first expansion was University.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

Alive.

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

I mean, it has to be Mawreen, right? If only for the chaos that she's sown.

Have you made a simself?

Yeah a few throughout the years, and I haven't played them in ages. Mostly I just use them for silly little pics with @skulldilocks's selfsim.

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

One of the custom ones, I guess! I don't remember, I have all the EA hairs hidden lol.

Favorite EA hair?

I don't have one, really. Maybe some of the natural black hairstyles converted from TS4 but I couldn't name specific meshes.

Favorite life stage?

Adult! I made a custom aging mod so I can go through the other stages relatively quickly. The way my game is set up, they unlock all their traits and wants once they're an adult, and I like to see who they are as a fully realized person, so that's the most fun for me.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Gameplay. I have a lot of fun making houses based on real floorplans that I find, but it's mostly just stage dressing for the little freaks that inhabit them.

Are you a CC creator?

Yeh.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

I mean, @skulldilocks obvs. People don't approach me much so there's only a few ppl that I talk to regularly like @furbyq-sims and @lilithpleasant. I am not really the "squad" type.

Do you have any sims merch?

This is a real thing?

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

Nope! I would never stream gameplay, the way I play isn't interesting. Lots of pausing and carefully adjusting angles to take pictures, getting distracted by other stuff, random crashes, etc. And editing that footage into something watachable would take ages. My play style lends itself better to picture entries, so I use Dreamwidth.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

More colors, more aliens, more [[JAM FACTORY]] lore.

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

@skulldilocks no question! I love watching her create anything for any game or craft. She's so talented. It doesn't matter if she's making sims cc or custom houses for Skyrim or doll clothes or anything else, she's my biggest inspiration.

How long have you had Simblr?

2010, babeyyyy.

How do you edit your pictures?

I have a tutorial here. I need to update it because I use different actions now, but most of the actual information there is still accurate.

What expansion/gamepack is your favorite?

I want to say pets because I love cats so very much, but in terms of actual content, probablyyyy FreeTime? I like anything that makes sims more unique and the hobby system is a lot of fun!

I tag: @skulldilocks, @lilithpleasant, @krabbysims, @monilisasims, @goatskickin and @simmer-until-tender

[2dmenenthusiast]

Last Night on Earth Pt.5

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

part 5 babeyyyy. Lemme know what y'all think!

Also quick note, I did change Ming's name to Lee because I thought the name fit her better.

Warnings/other info: description of injury, minor character death

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

There was a strong ringing in your ears, the voices of your fellow comrades muffled, as well as the firing of ammunition that was deadly close to you.

“Baker! Baker!!”

You shook your head to get rid of the noise, and glanced at Harding. Concern filled his eyes, and you gestured to him that you were okay.

“Baker! Harding! What’s your guy's position?!”

Lee’s voice crackled from your radio, and you ducked back into cover to respond.

“We’re pinned down. You got an opening out there?”

“I could carve a path to you, provide help.”

Harding spoke into his radio. “Negative, Lee! You’ll get yourself killed!”

“And you guys will die without my help!”

You groaned, peeking out of cover again and immediately moving back when bullets came flying your way. Fuck, you were completely screwed in this position. Harding was already injured, having taken a bullet in the shoulder, and there were way too many enemies for just the two of you to handle.

Harding put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “You go get Lee. I’ll radio for bravo to come help.”

You immediately shook your head. “We don’t even know if they’re alive! They haven’t made contact with us since we landed.”

“We have to do something!”

He huffed, reaching out and clasping your hand in his. He held it so tight it almost hurt, the look in his eyes intense. You knew. Everything in you denied it, but you knew.

“Neither of us are gonna make it if we’re stuck here. Go. I’ve got your back.”

With a determined nod, you gave Harding’s hand one last squeeze, and ran out of cover as soon as he started shooting. Your boots skidded against the dirt with each sharp corner you took, bullets following your path and your heart jumping into your throat. When you finally made it behind sufficient cover, you made sure to stay down the rest of your way to Lee, only ducking out when you were certain you could get a shot out unharmed.

“Lee!”

Her short, black hair whipped at her face when she turned to look at you, clearly relieved to see your face. You crouched down beside her.

“Alright, from this position, I think we can take out most of them and get Harding out of there—”

The sound of an explosion cut you off, and you glanced out of cover to see the field you were previously in engulfed in flames.

No…

“Harding—!”

Something zipped past, followed by squelching, and Lee’s body fell to the ground, her face torn up from the bullet that went through it.

Everything around you went silent. Your brain tuned out the gunfire, the shouting. The only thing you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart, pounding in your ears. Reaching forward, your hand found Lee’s vest, subconsciously feeling for a pulse. You didn’t even see the grenade someone had thrown just beyond your cover, the stone wall exploding to pieces. Your body went rolling, and a large piece of stone slammed down on your thigh. You screamed, from the physical pain, or from losing your friends, you didn’t know. Maybe it was a combination of both. The only thing you knew was that you couldn’t move. And the last thing you saw was a member of bravo before darkness overtook your vision, all the noise fading out into nothing.

***

“Fuck, I think some of that thing’s vomit got on my clothes,” you said, grimacing as you tried to wipe it off your sleeve.

“Well don’t touch it.”

“Thank you, I was gonna eat it next.”

Ethan sighed, clearly not amused by your sarcasm. You gave him a grin and took note of the bags under his eyes. He was tired. You both were, in more ways than one. You keep telling yourself that it’s almost over, and you want to believe that. But there’s a part of you that can’t fathom it, can’t rationalize it. Maybe it’s the fact that Zoe’s trapped somewhere you don’t know that’s making you feel a little hopeless. You have no idea if Lucas plans on killing her or not. He’s so fucking unpredictable, all you can do is pray to anything and everything that he spares her.

Your gaze remains on the man next to you, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. You know he doesn’t. He’s as determined as when he first got here. After everything you’ve both been through, there hasn’t been an ounce of doubt he’s verbalized or expressed, no talk of regret or hopelessness. You were strong, sure, but Ethan was so much stronger.

You repeated the code you found on a corpse in your head over and over again so that you didn’t forget it, saying it out loud as you entered it into the keypad. The light above it turned green, and you turned to Ethan with a thumbs up.

Finally, something somewhat favorable happened to you.

But, as soon as you went to push on the door, you were blessed (cursed) with your brother’s beautiful (grating) voice again.

“Yo, this is a test of skill. So no cheatin’. That shit you’re carrying— get rid of it.”

You pressed your lips together and raised your gun, letting out a shaky breath.

“What if I just—”

“Don’t.” Ethan pushed your arm down, giving you a disapproving look. “Let’s just do what he says.”

Letting out a dramatic groan, you stripped yourself of your weapons and gear and threw them into a storage container, Ethan doing the same.

“I literally cannot wait to murder that slimy asshole.”

Ethan sighed. “I know.”

The door squeaked open as you entered the room, and the lights immediately shut off, leaving you in pitch black darkness. The only source of light came from a singular lit candle in the hand of a clown statue, which didn’t at all give you the heebie-jeebies. You made a disgusted sound when Ethan took the candle.

“Not fond of clowns either?”

“Um, I’m not fond of anything that puts on ridiculous makeup and harasses me with a horn while trying to make me balloon animals.”

“You got another example?”

“Yeah, my first foster father.”

He scoffed and moved further into the dark space, trying to illuminate his way with the limited light the small candle provided. You tried to watch out for any traps, but, you know, it’s a little difficult when you can’t fucking see anything. Ethan stepped through the threshold of the next room, and you heard a weird sound and the candle went out.

You thought he was done for at first, only catching a bit of relief when the lights came on and you saw he was okay. Just a bit wet.

…He’s wearing a white shirt too—

Focus.

You stepped in behind him, getting sprayed as well— must be motion censored— and spotted the crudely made cake sitting on the table a few feet away

Definitely a real cake. For sure.

“Alright, whadya say we play a little game?” Lucas spoke. “All you gotta do is light the candle and put it on the cake.”

“Kiss my ass!”

“Ethan, language! You don’t wanna hurt my baby sibling’s ears, do ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “Get fucked.”

“Hey! There are children in the building— somewhere— I think. I’m not sure anymore.”

Your brother laughed, and the sound was like nails on a chalkboard. Hopefully you’ll get a few minutes of peace without hearing from him. Walking over to the “cake,” you inspected the chicken scratch written on the card haphazardly stuck in the icing.

Happy Fucking Birthday. Got a light?

Yeah, when I shove it up your ass—

“Hey, I got something over here.”

You turned to Ethan who stood by the stove, cautiously testing out the knob to see if it’d turn on. You were almost ninety-nine percent sure it’d explode the second it started clicking too long, but you were pleasantly surprised when the burner produced a small flame. Ethan quickly relit the candle.

“Alright, let’s… try to solve this thing, I guess.”

Resisting the urge to make another sarcastic and pessimistic comment, you followed his lead, keeping an eye out for anything useful. You remembered a weird combination lock in the other room, as well as a—

“Hey, there was a turning key attached to that barrel in there. Maybe we could use it to turn on the clow—”

“If you even think about bringing that demonic thing to life, I will turn you over to the first monster we meet if we make it out of here alive.”

“Okay, one: ouch. Two: we will make it out of here alive.”

You wanted to laugh. He was like one of those motivational posters you’d hang over your desk at some grueling day job. He wasn’t annoying about it either. No overly enthusiastic “You got this!” or “You can do it!” No, you think you’d end up killing him before the creatures got to him if that was the case.

Looking around, you could tell Lucas had a lot planned out for you. There were so many different pieces and parts scattered about, like some sick little puzzle he wanted you to put together that ultimately led to your death. You hated to admit it, but he was clever. Far more than you probably understood. He was also, however, a complete fucking idiot. You knew this kid back when he was getting shoved into lockers and his homework stolen. You’d like to think you knew him well enough to get around whatever riddles he wanted you to solve.

“Hey, there’s a piece of rope over here. I can try burning it, maybe?”

You shrugged, figuring it was worth a try. He held the flame up to the rope and watched it burn away slowly, giving you a satisfied grin afterwards.

“You also could’ve just untied it.”

His smile dropped. “It’s… a complicated knot, alright?”

You hummed and opened the door, eyes wideninging when almost a hundred grey balloons came into sight.

Gotta give him credit, your brother is certainly dedicated. Fuck popping all of them if that’s what he expected you to do.

Ethan tried the door off to the side and groaned when he couldn’t open it. “Dammit. Another fucking locked door.”

His frustration was slowly building to match yours, and you gently pushed him aside to get a closer look at the lock. It was a simple letter combination lock, probably not that hard to break. Too bad you didn’t have a couple bobby pins with you. Spending all that time in neglectful foster homes gave you some good practice on getting in and out of locked rooms.

The letters currently spelled out “HAPPY”, and if you knew anything about Lucas, which you’d like to think you did, he probably made the combination something moronic and insulting. His typical fashion.

Flicking through the different letters, you were happy to discover that not every letter of the alphabet was on each dial, making cracking it a little bit easier.

“You’re gonna solve it? What if it’s trapped or something?” Ethan asked.

“Then we die in a horrible, fiery explosion.”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Fine. How do you know you’re gonna figure it out then?”

You huffed through your nose, slowly turning each dial until you found the letter you wanted. “Well, my brother may be an evil genius sometimes—”

L

“But he’s also incredibly predictable.”

O

“And while he loves to make everything overly complicated, he lets his immature brain get the better of him.”

S

“He carved it into my fuckin’ bedroom door when we were younger.”

E

“How are you so sure?” Ethan asked.

You turned your head to look at him, lips turning up into a small grin. “I’m not. So this better make me look cool.”

R

LOSER

The lock clicked open, and you stood to your full height and faced the man behind you, your expression most definitely smug. You were glad to say he looked genuinely impressed, brows raised into his hairline as he looked at the solved combination.

“Not bad.” He walked past you, brushing against your arm. “Although, I would’ve still thought you were cool, even if you got it wrong.”

“Mm. I don’t think my ego would allow me to believe that.”

  Spotting a water valve handle on top of a couple crates, you eagerly snatched it up, glad that you and Ethan didn’t get seriously injured going through the entire rigamarole of Lucas’s game. He would definitely be disappointed. The thought made you laugh.

Ethan stayed on the other side of the threshold while you went under it, getting sprayed with ice cold water again. Because of course it had to be freezing. You stuck the valve in the pipe and gave it a few good turns, metal rubbing against metal and squeaking loudly. You turned it until you finally met resistance, and signaled Ethan to come through. Taking a cautious step forward, he waited for the water to come and let out a sigh of relief when it didn’t.

Great, one step closer to getting out of here.

The lights suddenly shut off, and a version of Happy Birthday started playing. Ethan hesitantly placed the candle on the cake, and you immediately had a bad feeling.

“Hey, what’s that ticking sound—?”

The explosion knocked you both off your feet, and you frantically reached out to try and touch Ethan, making sure he was all right.

“Motherfucker!” Lucas raged. “You’re supposed to die!”

A bundle of TNT attached to a timer fell through the ceiling, and you and Ethan both looked at each other with the same expression.

Shit, shit, shit!

You practically fell over when you raced to pick it up, pointing towards the loose board in the wall.

“There! Pull that out and I can get rid of this thing!”

He quickly did as you said, fingers gripping the board and pulling and as hard as he could. You looked down at the timer.

Fifteen seconds.

“Today, Ethan!”

“It’s almost there!”

Ten

Nine

Eight

The wood creaked and groaned as it finally came off the wall, Ethan shouting for you to throw it. You shoved the bomb through the small space and immediately backed up, gripping the man’s arm and pulling him with you.

“Oh, shi—”

You stepped in front of him and pushed him down to the floor, shielding him with your body as the wall exploded into bits. His arms came up and wrapped around your head, pulling your face down into his neck. Some debris slammed into your back, but nothing pierced you, thank god. You could hear the crackling of flames burning up the wood, and you wondered if it was even remotely safe behind you.

“Are you alright?”

You lifted your head, Ethan’s hands falling down to your waist. You had one arm resting underneath his skull so he didn’t slam it into the ground when you shoved him down, and the other pushed against the floor next to his head so you could lift yourself up a bit.

“Yeah, I’m okay. What about you? Did I hurt you at all?”

Ethan shook his head, thumbs unknowingly rubbing over your sides. “N-No. No, I’m fine. Thank you…”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “Come on, you think I’d let you die after all this? You’re just startin’ to grow on me, Winters.”

His face split into a grin, and you’d be lying if the sight didn’t make your heart speed up a bit. However, the moment was cut short when the speaker came to life again, and Lucas’s heavy breathing came through.

“That was s’posed to be for you, god damn it!”

Ethan pointed behind you. “Hey, look.”

You craned your head back and quickly noticed the once hidden doorway in the wall, hurrying off of Ethan and helping him get back up on his feet. You did your best to try to not breathe in too much of the smoke, holding your breath as you both hurried through the fire. There was a secret room a few feet beyond, desks with monitors piled on them and a single chair. No doubt Lucas’s base of operations. You could imagine him sitting there with a bowl of popcorn, laughing until his stomach hurt whilst he tortured you and Ethan.

The sick bastard.

The image on the screen in front of you made you stop in your tracks, and you rushed forward, hands slamming on top of the desk and your face a little too close to the monitor.

Zoe. She’s okay!

“Zoe! Oh thank god. Are you both okay?”

Both of them sat with their hands tied to the wall. The picture was heavily pixelated, so you couldn’t make out the state of either of them, but from what you could tell, Mia didn’t look too great. Her head was slumped forward, like she was passed out or dead. You hoped for the former.

“We’re alright.” God she sounded exhausted. “We’re just beyond the pier outside that room. Hurry!”

“We’re coming, Zo! We’re gonna get you both out of there.”

You couldn’t hear what your sister said next when the picture began to distort, their image being replaced by your brother’s.

“Well now, hello to you both!”

Ethan came up behind you, hunching over you to look at the screen. “The fuck do you want?!”

“You… Dead.” Lucas laughed, and your jaw clenched so hard your teeth began to grind together. “Guess that’s not in the cards. Not yet.”

“Yeah, lucky us. Look, unless you have any more surprises up your sleeve, I suggest you—”

Lucas scoffed and shook his head. “Now that would be tellin’, Ethan. And I don’t do spoilers.”

“I’ll give you one then. Because the next thing that’s gonna happen is I’m gonna bash your fucking face in—!”

He cut off the feed, and you slammed your fists into the table.

“Dammit!”

Ethan’s hands were on your shoulders in the next moment, turning you around to face him. “Hey, we can’t worry about him right now, okay? Your sister and Mia are the priority.”

He was right. You were starting to hate that. But you had been getting so caught up in your anger and revenge plotting it practically made you blind. You’d never forget about Zoe. Even if it meant letting that asshole escape to save her. It didn’t stop the sting from letting him go, though.

You nodded, and Ethan let go of you to look in the open suitcase next to the monitors. His hand carefully reached out, pulling out the D-Series head you both had been practically killing yourselves over.

The serum. We really can make it.

“Come on, let’s go get them.” 

The idea of creating the cure was almost unfathomable to you, even more so now that the reality of that idea was just within arms reach. You never fully believed you’d be able to make it out. After three years of nothing but pain and dashed hopes, you start preparing for the worst. Your inevitable, painful end being one of them. But now, with the arm and head in your possession, you could feel your heart racing in anxious anticipation.

You’d get out. All of you.

“What are you gonna do when we get out of here?” you asked.

Ethan glanced back at you, a bit surprised by your question. “I don’t know. Go back home with Mia, try to start over.”

“Where’s home for you?”

“Los Angeles.”

Fuck, that’s far away.

Your heart sank a bit. You’d both get out, get cured, and then… he’d leave.

Of course, you never expected him to stay. Leaving is the one thing you knew he’d do. With Mia. He’d take her, and be out of your life forever after this. The thought made you… sad.

Your own emotions surprised you a small amount, and you slightly shook your head a bit.

“What about you?” Ethan asked. “What are you planning on doing after all this?”

You paused. You’d never given it much thought. After spending so long trapped here, you never thought there would be anything after. You never planned far ahead when you didn’t expect to leave. Truth is, you didn’t know what you’d do. And that terrified you.

“I… I don’t know, honestly.” You sighed, arms falling limp at your sides. “I can’t stay in Louisiana. There’s— There’s too much pain here. I don’t know if I have enough good memories of this place to outweigh the bad. So I guess I’ll just… leave.”

Stepping up to you, Ethan reached out and brushed his hand over your arm.

“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of places out in California you could settle into.”

You couldn’t stop the quiet gasp from leaving you, eyes searching Ethan’s face like it held the answer to all your questions. Like if you looked away, he’d fade into ash like your mother, and it would all just be a sick dream.

“I don’t know. Big state, big cities… Not somethin’ I’m used to.”

Ethan smiled. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

You couldn’t stop your bottom lip from trembling, eyes burning with the promise of fresh tears. Your name was softly muttered along Ethan’s lips, and you threw your arms around his neck, gripping tightly at his shirt. He didn’t hesitate to wrap you in his arms, warmth encompassing you as his hands splayed over your back. His touch sent lightning coursing through you, overwhelmed with his touch and his scent and him completely surrounding you.

He was here. With you.

“I mean, you don’t have to cry about it. You could just say no—”

Your fist gently connected with his gut, pulling back to look at his growing smile.

“Jerk.”

He chuckled, and as quickly as the moment began, it had to end. There was still a clear objective ahead, the window getting smaller and smaller with each passing moment. And while you would’ve gladly stood around in Ethan’s arms all day, good things must come to an end. Some sooner than you’d prefer.

The wood along the pier was damp and rotten, the algae growing along it providing a real challenge for you to not to lose your balance.

Hey, your first walk along the pier with a handsome guy. And some lights and some music and you could make a real romantic night out of it.

The monster jumping out of the water and landing in front of you quickly soured your imagination.

Ethan pumped a single round into it, its head violently exploding into smaller pieces, and its body wriggled around violently before falling limp. You think you hate these versions of Evie’s monsters the most.

No. Wait. Fat vomiting guy definitely took first place.

Your heart was in your throat by the time you made it across the pier and to the boat house, racing up the rickety stairs and slamming the door open so hard you heard it splinter.

“Zoe!”

Her eyes were tired as she lazily raised her head to look at you. SHe could barely muster a small smile. You raced over to her and pulled out your knife to cut the rope binding her wrists, putting your hands on her shoulders when she started to fall forward.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Do you have the ingredients?”

You looked back at Ethan who was untying Mia, settling her practically limp body against the wall before he handed you the head and the arm. Passing them to Zoe, relief filled her expression as she gazed at the mummified parts in her hands.

“We’re so close.”

She looked up at you, lips splitting into a smile as you let out a laugh of disbelief. You could fucking cry right then and there if the adrenaline wasn’t currently shooting through your veins. She quickly got to work on the serum, and you turned to watch Ethan comfort his wife.

“How is she doing?”

He brushed her hair away from her face, her pale skin covered in sweat. She barely looked alive.

“I think she’ll be okay.”

Mia shook her head, gripping at the front of Ethan’s shirt. “He’s coming. Daddy’s coming.”

Ethan grabbed her hand and stood, watching your sister mix the serum. “So after we make the cure, what’s next?”

“There’s a boat outside. We’ll take it through the swamp.”

She turned around, a syringe in each hand. She gave you a knowing look.

There’s only enough for two.

Ethan came forward and took them out of her hands, and Zoe’s lip curled up in a snarl.

“Hey! One of those is mine.”

You didn’t have the luxury or time to argue when the building suddenly shook, your feet stumbling for solid ground. You and Ethan looked behind you. Large, glowing, orange eyes stared back at you through the wall, the wood falling away like paper, and a giant hand reached out and lifted Ethan in the air.

“Daddy, no!”

“Kids! Get your asses back to the house! I’ll deal with you later!”

His body was launched across the room, and you looked on with horror at what monster your father had become. He was disgusting, a black lump of infected mold with multiple eyes and limbs. He was like some mutated monster that escaped from a science lab. The anger that you held for Mia surged through you again. You didn’t know the truth, you probably couldn’t fathom it. But from what you were sure of, you couldn’t help but blame her for everything that’s happened.

You looked back at her, her body frozen in fear as she watched her husband get thrown around like a rag doll. You felt a similar feeling settle deep inside you. Because this thing, yeah, it was fucking terrifying. But, you gripped your gun tight in your hand and rushed to Ethan’s aid, ducking under your father’s long, mutated arm.

“You turned my children against me!”

Shielding Ethan, you fired multiple rounds into one of your father’s infected eyes, watching it split open with puss seeping out of it. He was back on his feet in no time, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You better not die on me now, Ethan! Not when we’ve made it this far!”

He gripped your arm and pulled you out of the way of an oncoming swing, Jack’s limb smashing into the wall.

“As if you’d let me!”

Your head turned to Zoe, who looked on with disbelief. “Get you both to the dock!”

She nodded frantically and grabbed Mia’s hand, pulling her out the door. At least they were somewhat out of harm's way.

You could barely keep track of how many eyes your father had, finding one before he would shift out of the way and you’d lose it again. Something gave you pause, though, when he began to sob, body swishing around in the murky water.

“Marguerite!” he cried.

Your jaw clenched, eyes steeled whilst your hands tightened around your gun and you aimed.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

He thrashed and cried out as another eye exploded, and the already unstable ground shook with each slam of Jack’s hands against the wood. The floorboards splintered, and the next thing you knew, you were falling. Your body hit the water, the cold sending a shock through you, and you didn’t have a moment to catch a breather when Jack’s tail(?) came swooping around and slammed into your side, knocking you down again. You gasped for breath, coughing up water, and scrambled to your feet.

“My own child… trying to kill me!”

Your eyes burned with the fresh promise of tears, emptying your gun into the large eye in front of you. Fear surged through you and lodged in your throat, practically certain that this was the end for you. You wished there was another choice. God, you would give your life a million and one times just to see your family alive and happy. And the crippling reality that you couldn’t fix this practically killed you.

There was a desperate cry of your name, Ethan reaching down the ladder for your hand, and you quickly jumped up to grab it. He dragged you up the ladder with a grunt, your body jostling into his. With a muttered thanks, you hurriedly jammed a full mag into your gun.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t get to answer when a slimy hand came crashing down between you.

“Ask me later!”

Barely dodging another attack, you rolled under one of your father’s swinging limbs and steadied yourself on one knee before firing at another exposed eye.

“Try flanking him!”

Ethan took your direction and rushed to the other side of him, hoping to catch some of his weak points. What you didn’t expect though, was acidic vomit to come spraying out of your father’s mouth right in your direction. You barely missed it in time, crying out as pain shot through your arm. The skin was red and raw, the acid bubbling over the wound. Ethan shot you a concerned look, but you couldn’t stop. Jack was going to kill him, and you couldn’t let that happen. Not when you’ve made it this far.

“How many you countin?!”

His eyes frantically searched Jack’s mutated body.

“Uh— five?!”

“Fuckin’ mutated freak,” you muttered, aiming for another eye. It exploded with a disgusting pop.

“That’s four!”

It was almost like a game. An incredibly gross, fucked up game that almost certainly ended in death. And wasn’t remotely fun. But you’ll take what you can get. You tried to ignore the pain you felt everywhere, especially in your arm, as you and Ethan frantically raced around Jack, trying to dodge every oncoming swing. You cursed loudly when you officially ran out of ammo, the telltale sign of your gun clicking letting you know it was empty.

“This is gettin’ old, Jack!” Ethan yelled.

Your father roared, swiping at him. “I’m gonna kill you!”

You pulled your knife from your belt and whistled loudly, catching your father’s attention.

“Over my dead body!”

Throwing your knife, it sunk deep into the large eye on Jack’s face, and he screamed and thrashed before falling from the second floor and collapsing into the water. Chest heaving, you took deep breaths and rushed to Ethan’s side, taking his face in your hands. He looked just as worried as you felt, and you searched him for any serious injuries.

“Shit, your arm.”

He grabbed your arm just beneath your elbow, examining the burn that extended over the length of your bicep. It definitely needed some form of medical attention.

“I’m okay. Shit.” You sighed, head falling against his shoulder.

It felt like your heart was racing a million miles a minute, so caught up in your worry for Ethan that your own pain barely even registered anymore. Fuck, it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and second to losing your sister, you think losing Ethan was one of the most terrifying things that could ever happen to you.

“You keep fucking scaring me like that.”

He scoffed, an arm resting across your shoulders. “I’ll make sure to be more careful next time.”

“Hey.” You pulled away from Ethan, looking at your sister who stood in the open doorway of the room. “Boat’s this way.”

You nodded, taking your sister’s hand so she could help you up the large step. 

“Have I told you you’re my favorite sibling?”

She scoffed. “Don’t think there ain’t much competition.”

You laughed, and god it felt so good to see her again. To know that she was okay and safe. Well, almost. You were so close you could practically taste it. The beginning of your new life. You could barely believe it.

The ground shook, and when you thought Ethan was right behind you, he was being picked up by your father who was very much still alive.

Fuck.

You were ready to jump back into hell when Zoe grabbed your shoulder, firmly stopping you.

“Use the serum on him!”

Your eyes widened. Was she serious?!

“You want me to cure him?!” Ethan asked incredulously.

Zoe shook her head. “He’s too far gone. I think it’ll kill him!”

Ethan fumbled in his pocket for one of the syringes and jammed it into Jack’s eye. He immediately began screaming and thrashing and let Ethan go, his body slowly calcifying just like your mother had. He made one last attempt to reach the man before fully solidifying, his hand suspended in mid air. It was then that he slowly began to crumble, and watching it happen the second time did not make it hurt any less. He was still your father. Somewhere in there. But Zoe was right. He was too far gone.

You quickly took Ethan’s hand and helped him up to the dock, more than relieved that he was alright. But—

“I had to use one of them. There’s only one left.”

Mia stared out at the water and shook her head, turning towards her husband. “What? There can’t just be one left.”

“What are we gonna do?” Zoe asked, fear evident in her voice.

Your heart absolutely ached for your sister. It ached for Ethan, and it surprisingly ached for Mia. You knew she never intended for this to happen to your family. She was just as much of a victim as all of you. And Ethan came out all this way to save her…

He looked at you, brows furrowed. You could read his expression like the back of your hand. He was conflicted. You were too.

He softly muttered your name, and with a sigh, you grabbed the syringe from his hand and stuck it in Mia’s arm. Zoe recoiled with a gasp.

“What— Why?!”

You could practically hear the betrayal in her voice, and it hurt more than anything you’ve experienced tonight.

“They need to get out, Zo. They…” Your eyes locked with Ethan’s. You couldn’t decipher what he was thinking, you just knew he looked upset. “They can send help.”

“There won’t be anyone to help!”

She stormed off, and you refrained from shouting out after her. If she was right, she’d probably die hating you. That was something you couldn’t stand to think about. As Mia stepped into the boat, Ethan appeared in front of you and shook his head.

“Why would you do that? This whole time, you and your sister have been searching for the cure and you just… Why?”

Your lips pressed together in a sad smile, hand landing on his arm before sliding down to grab his wrist. “Would you?” you whispered.

His eyes slightly widened, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even attempt to. You could feel Mia’s eyes on you, so you let him go and sniffled. Any effort to hold back your tears was futile.

“So,” you pressed your finger against his chest, voice shaking, “don’t you forget about me, okay?”

Before Ethan could answer, you stepped away from him and walked down the dock, feeling his gaze on you every step of the way.

You’ve experienced heartache in many forms. You’ve lost friends, family, spent countless nights in foster care wondering why families never wanted you. This unsurprisingly ranked right up there with them, and you wanted nothing more than to run back to Ethan and have him take you with. 

It felt unfair in a way. Your family was the unintented target of unfortunate circumstances, this curse laid upon your doorstep that you had no choice but to live with. For three damned years. And then you looked for the cure. You dealt with the horrors of Evie’s monsters. You had to kill your parents! And yet she got to leave.

You shook your head, reminding yourself that this was the choice you made, and it was one you’d make again given the chance. 

You finally caught up to Zoe back at the house, watching her stomp towards the trailer.

“Zoe, wait.”

The door slammed behind her, and you quickly followed, letting out a huff. She paced the length of the tailor, hands on her hips as a million different emotions cycled on her face. The only consistent one being pissed. 

“Just listen to me—”

“How could you do that?!”

You paused, hands wringing together. “Zoe—”

“After everything we’ve done, all that we’ve been through, you gave it to her!”

“She’s been trapped just as long as we have. Hell, maybe even longer! And she’s his wife, Zo! He came all this way for her, fought through hell to get her back, and you expect me to deny her freedom?!”

Zoe collapsed on the bed, head in her hands. You sighed and settled down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She immediately leaned into your side.

“Ethan will get help. I know it.”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “How can you be so sure?”

You rubbed her shoulder with a small smile. “He’s a good guy. He won’t leave us behind.”

Standing from the bed, you grabbed a beer from the fridge and passed it to her. After the night you’ve had, you both needed it.

“So, how much do you think we’ve missed?”

You sighed with a shrug, sitting back down on the bed and  thumbing at the peeling label on your bottle. “Well, we definitely missed elections by about a year. And that show you like so much probably has a new season. Though, I think we’ve lived enough of a zombie nightmare, you don’t have to watch a show about it.”

“I mainly watch it for that one girl. The one with the sword?”

You chuckled. “She is pretty badass.”

She rolled her bottle between her hands, and you sighed. You know your decision hurt her. Definitely more than it hurt you to make. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make her feel like you betrayed her. Since this whole thing started, you swore on your life you’d protect her. Were you breaking that promise by not giving her the serum? Possibly. You hoped not.

“Am I still your favorite?”

She laughed, and the sound physically made your shoulders relax.

“Don’t think there’s much competition.”

You smiled, resting your head against her shoulder.

“No, there’s not.”

She chuckled again, and you followed with your own laughter. This was the best you’ve felt all night, despite the fact that neither of you were cured, and you were still stuck on your family's property. But, you were together, and for once, you were positive about the future ahead of you.

Zoe’s laughter was cut off with a sudden gasp, and you lifted your head to look at her.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Her beer fell to the floor with a loud ‘clang!’, and she froze in her spot.

“No! Evie!”

Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Zoe’s shoulders. “Hey! You gotta snap out of it! She’s not here, Zo. Don’t listen to her!”

“I-I’ll be good! I promise…”

You watched with horror as white crystals traveled up her body and completely froze her, her hair and skin turning ghost white. You shook your head and carefully laid her back on the bed, jaw tightly clenching as anger coursed through you.

God dammit!

Breathing heavily through your nose, you ripped open the weapon’s crate and restocked on ammo, as well as strapping a new knife to your belt considering you lost your old one trying to kill your father. You then barely took the time to bandage your burn, your injuries not even mattering to you compared to the safety of Ethan, Mia, and your sister. But, if it kept you from possibly losing your arm, you’d take somewhat care of yourself.

“When I find that little bitch…”

With one last glance to Zoe, you stormed out of the trailer and made your way down to the bayou. If Evie got Zoe, then that meant she got Ethan and Mia. You’ve lost enough people to this fucking brat. You wouldn’t let her take any more.

[nattikay]

I'd like to hear 3 from you, I bet it's some cute Sully family stuff

3.) An off-screen scene you wanted to see?

YA DARN RIGHT IT’S SOME CUTE SULLY FAMILY STUFF, IT’S ALLLLL THE CUTE SULLY FAMILY STUFF BABEYYYY

For real though, I would’ve adored to see more of this. Especially when the kids were very young. Consider, for example:

Jake constantly carrying his baby(s) around to all his olo’eyktan duties.

Neytiri telling them all the traditional Omatikaya stories and singing them songs (according to the visual dictionary one of the earliest beads on Neteyam’s songcord represents the first lullaby he remembers being sung to him like excuse me??! 😭)

Mo’at recognizing Kiri’s inherent connection to Eywa and kinda taking her under her wing

Little Kiri going around nonchalantly befriending all the animals like a big blue Disney princess…to the point that she gets her ikran wayyyy earlier than usual just by asking it to be her friend (that part’s canon lol)

Jake’s own Na’vi language skills improving exponentially as his kids start learning to talk

The general mix of wholesome and chaos as Jake and Neytiri learn to be parents for the first time and all the stuff that comes with that, especially given how quickly they had their first three, them going around trying to wrangle their little toddler army…but despite the chaos they just love each other and their kids so much, the RDA is gone and the clans are at peace and they’re just so happy right now and wouldn’t have it any other way—

like bruh give me three hours of that and I won’t even have a heart anymore because it will have all melted in to a great big puddle of sugar-coated sap on the floor 😭😭😭 we got very brief little snippets of it at the start of the movie and it was wonderful but gosh dangit I want mooooooooore aahhhhhh

oh, here’s a more specific silly scene that I was discussing with @barking-in-the-dark recently:

So imagine that Jake and Neytiri need a babysitter for Neteyam and Kiri when Lo’ak is ready to be born. Mo’at can’t do it since she is of course assisting with the birth, and Jake’s next thought was OH! NORM AND MAX!

So now human!Norm and Max are stuck with a pair of comically oversized not-quite-toddlers for a few hours 

Norm quickly gives up and leaves for about 10 minutes to link up with his avatar. Max swears those were the most chaotic (non-war-related) 10 minutes of his life.

Neteyam is already walking at this point and he wants to be everywhere. Kiri isn’t yet (I headcanon that Neteyam started walking significantly earlier than Kiri did even though they are probably less than a month apart in age, partly because he is described as a natural athlete and “golden child” and partly because Kiri is just too easily distracted by her surroundings to think much about walking)—anyways, Kiri can’t walk just yet but boy howdy can she crawl and if you take your eyes off of her too long she will disappear, she practically needs a balloon tied around her waist so her caretakers can keep track of her

Spider, currently around 2 years old, also happens to be in the lab at the time and that kid can climb

so poor Max is now having to chase after Neteyam (who may only be year old but Na’vi as a species are big so he already comes up to Max’s torso), stop Spider from getting into all the equipment that should be way out of his reach but isn’t because he moves like a monkey, AND keep a constant eye on Kiri so she doesn’t wander off and vanish chasing some stray insect or something 

It gets a lot better when Norm returns in his avatar, but those 10 minutes were rough lol

[dwarfsized]

things that i would like to know about my fellow writers!

tagged by @aevallare thank you my looovveee

i will tag @simon-says-nothing and @raccooncrimes!

Last book I read: 

i am stalled on The Witch King by Martha Wells, not because it isnt good but just because. lmao. If im reading, i cant be writing. or sewing. or or or. The last one I remember finishing was This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, and i loved that.

Greatest literary inspiration: 

I put part of a Mary Oliver poem on my graduation cap. Also genuinely quite inspired by Tamsyn Muir.

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write:

I dont know if I'd ever try my hand at a modern au but i adore aevallare's pour one out.

I certainly wont write no-magic or all-human aus (I like tieflings a normal amount, she says, lying) but I'm sure someone could do something cool with those.

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: 

:') i already think this about my work but i write it anyway. who wants to read astarion stuck in a druid grove when he's [redacted]?? well, i do, so now we have eldath's mercy.

i am working on a story rn where kira is a ghost haunting the szarr palace. do i think very many people will be interested in that? i dont know! but I want to write it, and at least one other person probably wants to read it, so. eventually, it will go up onto ao3.

id love to do something with a focus on minthara. she's going to matter in true colors but that's not going to happen for a while. for now i rotate her in my brain.

You can recognize my writing by:

7000 word chapters where fully half the words are the characters thinking sooo hard, mid-chapter pov shifts, asides about tiefling/druid culture that i've made up whole-cloth, tail mentions.

My most controversial take (current fandom):

if you mod anyone in the game to look younger/more conventionally attractive i am putting you in the oubliette in my mind-palace. why cant you like these characters as they are. i thought we enjoyed this game

if you mod gortash clean or mod away a character's scars, i am putting you in the oubliette inside of the oubliette in my mind-palace.

Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut):

2 babeyyyy, but if i could instead shelve all the current wips and start wip #15 id be at an 8. alas! i cannot do this.

Top three favourite tropes:

in no particular order:

when a character's specific past experiences lead them to a wrong conclusion that is soooo wrong but like, ohhh sweetie. of course you think that.

magic that has a cost, even divine magic, and cannot fix everything

you were not selected for this. anyone could have been the person in this position. but you are here now, and you have to do the task. get to it.

are these even tropes? do i know what tropes are anymore. help

Share a random frustration:

I USUALLY AVERAGE 700 WRITING WORDS A DAY BUT IVE BEEN EDITING ELDATH'S MERCY CH 2 FOR ALL OF APRIL AND IT HAS BROUGHT MY AVERAGE WORD COUNT DOWN TO 26. 26 WORDS A DAY. BITING. BITING AND YELLING.