#i just wanna go to rapture and fuck shit up

[all-lars-bars]

Why Bioshock not VR??? Why not????

[bunnyb34r]

I know I should just block (and not OPEN) tags and posts ab '24 but my brain is stupid and likes to be informed even if it makes me worse

[mrsackermannx]

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 9

Part 8

I know some of yall were upset by the cliffhanger last time. I hope this makes up for it

Eddie had been more than ready to spend the next week taking care of himself with his own hand and whatever fleshlight Chrissy could get for him, as mortifying as it sounded. He hadn't packed anything for himself. He never anticipated going into rut while on the road. Then again, he never anticipated Steve.

Steve, who made him want to drop everything and breed him full of pups and then raise those pups somewhere nice.

Now, said surprise was on top of him grinding down on him and promising a night of ecstasy. Steve pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor, hips still moving. Steve helped Eddie out of his own shirt and leaned in to kiss him. Eddie nipped at his lips and couldn't help but nose at his neck. The bandana wrapped around it was thick with his scent. This was his omega.

"Mine", he growled just as Steve pulled away.

Steve unzipped the alpha's pants and began to drag them down his legs. "When you pushed me away earlier...I thought...", he laughed and shook his head. "I thought you were running to someone else."

Eddie shook his head in protest. "I'd never do that to you, I wouldn't."

"I know", Steve said, pulling his cock free from his boxers. "Mmmfuuck", he moaned as he took a deep breath, nose buried in Eddie's bush. He kissed up the length, keeping one hand on it.

Eddie watched as the other hand dipped between the bed and his body, the shifting of his hips confirming that Steve was rubbing himself through his pants while he licked at Eddie, eyes closed in rapture.

"Tastes that good baby?"

"Thinking how you're gonna knot me so good, Daddy."

"Oh fuck..."

Steve grinned and reluctantly pulled off. One of these days, he needed to suck Eddie off while humping his leg. He needed to cover him in his slick and be covered in his cum. For now though, he removed the rest of his clothing and crawled back over Eddie's body.

"I need you to get me ready for your cock. Think you can do that?"

"Y-yeah, yes."

Steve smiled and then turned around so that he was on all fours, face to face with Eddie's crotch while he had a similar view of his own.

"Shit, holy shit."

Anything smart Steve had to say was cut off by a shocked moan when Eddie grabbed his hips and pulled them down, absolutely devouring his cunt. Any plans he had to give Eddie a blowjob while in this position were for naught. He was helpless to do anything but rut against his face.

How could Steve put such a beautiful pussy in front of him and not expect Eddie to worship it? Especially when it was about to take his knot over and over? He caressed the swell of his cheek, drinking him in, tongue delving in and reaching even deeper. Steve's cries were music to his ears. When he felt Steve's cunt clench around his tongue as he came, he wanted to do it all over again.

But Steve shakily rose up, turning around and rubbing his cheek against Eddie's, their scents mixing. He'd said earlier that the bed didn't smell enough like them. They'd be rectifying that tonight.

Steve straddled his hips again, placing his warmth against Eddie's cock. Eddie's hands smoothed up his thighs while Steve slid on him. It was like he was giving him the dirtiest, wettest lap dance.

"Baby", Eddie whimpered, cock already leaking at the tip. "Baby, please, don't tease. Need you. Need your sweetness." His hips bucked upward, making Steve bounce.

"Oh, poor Daddy", Steve cooed. "You can't be more patient? What if I wanna cum like this?"

Eddie sobbed. He wanted to cum and normally where didn't matter. But-

"Don't worry, alpha. I know you can't give me pups unless you cum inside", Steve assured him playing into it. He lifted up to position himself and slowly slide down on Eddie's cock, watching with pride as Eddie bit his lip and held back until he was fully seated.

"You've been so good for me, alpha."

"Can I? Please, baby, lemme-"

"Yes", Steve permitted, allowing Eddie to set the pace from under him. They rocked against each other, meeting each other thrust for thrust. The bed under them creaked and Steve might've had sympathy but then Eddie reached between them to rub at his clit and Steve didn't care who heard now.

Eddie was entranced. This beautiful, beautiful man was his, all his and the cunt milking his cock right now was his and it was taking his knot and he was gonna give his omega all the pups he wante-

"Fuuuuck Steeeve." Eddie's body felt like a livewire as he drained into Steve, pumping him full.

Steve fell on top of him, kissing up his neck and then to his lips, tasting some of the remnants of his juices on Eddie. His fingers curled into the alpha's hair. Eddie's own fingers tangled in Steve's honey brown tresses and slowly rutted up into him, pushing his cum deeper. Steve moaned into his mouth. He was going to need to take double doses of birth control. He knew it didn't work that way, but every single force in the universe, including his own will, seemed intent on getting him pregnant.

The next morning, Steve was slow to wake up. Before Eddie's knot had gone away, he had gotten hard again while still inside Steve and fucked him again.

When he did awaken though, he noticed a slight change in decor. And an absence of Eddie. There was a sheet draped over the four posts of the bed, turning it into a canopy. Some of both Steve and Eddie's clothes had been left on the foot of the bed. Items that had been in their suitcases.

"Alpha?", Steve called out, voice thick with sleep still.

Eddie immediately showed himself through the curtain from the foot of the bed. He nodded to the clothes that he must have left. Steve's brain began to wake up as he realized what was happening. Eddie was denning. While omegas nested during heat, creating soft and comfortable spaces for themselves and anyone they trusted, alphas denned, building an enclosure. One that was meant to be nested in once they courted an omega. If an omega liked their den, they would nest. Eddie had brought their clothes as an offering.

Steve didn't know how good of a nest he could make when it would need to be taken down in just a few days, but he wasn't going to reject his alpha's efforts. And it made him think of perhaps building a more permanent one with his and Eddie's scents. Steve sat up and selected a few pieces, placing them near the headboard. Then he held his hands out to Eddie.

"Need you~"

Eddie crawled right up his body, it seemed he'd put on some pants before making the den. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmm, good", Steve said before letting out a soft yawn. He rubbed at his eye. "But you could make it better."

Eddie obliged right away, pulling the covers down just slightly to kiss his collarbone, then his just. For a moment, Eddie just rubbed his face in the hairs there. Eddie's lips on his stomach tickled in just the right way and it was in that exact moment that his phone began to ring. He was ready to ignore it. And then he remembered that he needed to be Eddie's contact with the outside world. He stretched over to reach for it off the nightstand, expecting to see Jeff's number, or Grant's, or Gareth's, or an unknown number because he didn't have Chrissy's yet only to see Dustin's name.

Steve truly had no idea why he could be calling him right now but at the feeling of Eddie spreading him wide and pecking at his clit, he decided it could wait. Eddie wrung out another orgasm from him with his mouth before Robin called this time. Steve hadn't the energy to answer her and let it ring. Maybe she'd get worried and think something bad happened, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Steve would fill her in later when he wasn't getting his brains fucked out.

She called again at literally that moment. Steve and Eddie had left the den to get something to eat. Had done so with Steve still fully naked, and that led to Steve being bent over a table, cunt on display before Eddie plunged into it. After that bout and a shower, Steve finally texted her back, scrolling through any of the ones she already sent. He looked himself over in the massive bathroom mirror. Of course, there were quite a few bite marks, but nothing Robin hadn't seen in case he needed to send a pic to prove his safety.

'im fine' 'im literally getting railed on the hour'

His phone buzzed in his hand and Steve could already hear the tirade his friend had prepared about not answering when he went on a cross country trip with strangers. Eddie came up from behind, body still a little damp from the shower they had just shared. He kissed Steve's shoulder, nipping every time he reached a mole.

Steve let out a sigh and answered. "Hey Robs."

"Steven Anita Harrington!"

"You know that's not my middle name-"

"Don't crack wise with me! Is that guy forcing you to be his cocksleeve while he's in rut!?", Robin accused.

"He's not exactly forcing me", Steve said, body tingling as Eddie made a soft sound against his skin.

"Angel, miss your sweet cunt, need it."

Steve took pity on him, since the last time he made Eddie cum with only his mouth. "Misses you too", he whispered, forgetting for a moment that Robin was on the line.

"Steve! Are you listening? What's he doing to you?"

Eddie knelt down, hand to the small of Steve's back to make him bend over the bathroom sink. Robin was asking the wrong questions.

"Look, Robs, can I call you back? I promise I'm safe, I promise I'll-", his sentence cut off with an incredibly pornographic moan when Eddie licked up his pussy. He had the decency to look ashamed while Steve craned his neck back to look at him.

"Actually Robin, I'm gonna call you back in a literal second. Just hang tight." Steve hung up and then turned around to frown at Eddie down on the floor. "That wasn't nice. I was on the phone."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I just couldn't resist, your pussy drives me wild baby, I needed another taste." Eddie put his hands on Steve's thighs, pleading at him with his eyes.

"You need to learn patience, alpha. And now you need to wait for it to come to you."

Eddie let out a whimper as Steve got onto the counter and opened up his legs. He dialed Robin again and held the phone with one hand while the other stroked his thigh.

"Hey Robs, so what did you wanna talk about?"

"Dustin tried calling you earlier to tell you, dingus but when you didn't answer, I assumed the worst. Twitter's blowing up because apparently you caused your rock star's rut?!"

Steve licked his fingers and then just barely touched his lips between his legs. "How would twitter know that?"

"I don't know, I only got a summary from Dustin. I was hoping to get the rest from you?"

Eddie was watching, hypnotized as Steve touched himself with the lightest of grazes, denying himself and Eddie what they truly wanted. He swallowed and let out a whimper as a little drop fell from Steve onto the counter.

"I'll fill you in later", Steve promised. "But I'm not in any danger. Having the time of my life, actually."

"Okay, just needed to hear your voice to confirm it. Go and finish getting your brains fucked out or whatever."

"Will do. And thanks Robbie, for caring about me."

"Anytime. Have fun slutting it up."

Steve hung up and gave Eddie his full attention now. He slid off the counter and grabbed the back of his head, pushing it into his pussy. Eddie could have cried. He nearly did, grasping Steve's thighs and letting him use him, with little to no finesse. Just a slide as Steve covered him in that glorious nectar.

Only when Steve was satisfied with how Eddie was anointed with his slick did he turn around and let Eddie bend him over the sink to fuck him.

In between their couplings, Eddie would sometimes press a hand to his torso, as if checking for new life. The den still didn't have a fully complete nest, just some of their clothes strewn about. Steve's omega felt it inadequate and in turn felt that he wasn't worthy for an alpha that tried so hard but he tamped it down. This wasn't about him. And for now, his alpha was pleased with his nest.

It had their belongings and smelled like them and thus far no one had come to challenge his claim or territory. On the fourth day, it seemed that Eddie was getting over the final crest of his hump. Steve would miss the moony, pussy-drunk version of his alpha, but maybe on the next rut-

No, not the next rut. Steve probably wouldn't be here for the next one. This whole thing was supposed to be temporary, as intense as it was right now.

Eddie's mind was clear enough to attempt to cook something substantial. While he did that, Steve finally opened up social media to see how the world had taken CC's tour delay. Fans seemed upset at changed plans but mollified since they were given refunds or allowed to exchange tickets for the new event time. So thankfully there wasn't any blowback from that.

The drama was all concentrated on the reason for the change. The band's official statement was a health concern. But since everyone but Eddie was shown in the statement, most people had made the correct assumption that it was due to a rut. What made Steve's stomach flip was a picture of him from a tabloid the night of the concert.

EDDIE MUNSON'S NEW HOT PIECE?

Part 10

Doing something new with this one! I want to show the whole circus of speculation and theory in the next part so if you'd like to show up in the next chapter, here's what to do:

Comment or reblog with how you'd react in universe to the news and rumors that Eddie went into rut thanks to a random omega (that he's possibly been sighted with before) and I'll add it to the next part. I just think it'd be fun. Be as nice, off-base, mean, bitchy, or neutral as you like (it's all in good fun and in the name of fic drama after all)

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck  @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @marklee-blackmore @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls

[passivenovember]

my holiday exchange fic for yikes_writes!

--

Billy’s list of hangups is short. You could read it in five minutes. Three, if you don’t give a shit about him at all.

He’s a chameleon. Adaptable. Takes a lot to get him worked up and peeling his own skin back from the bone in an effort to get away, and it’s saved him a lot of grief in his life. Caused a lot of grief, too, when Billy does his own scalping. All the work and all the pain. Makes him vulnerable.

But the thing about Steve Harrington, and Steve Harrington’s house and the unsteady emotions they planted in barren fields last fall, watering and groveling and laboring at every turn until something pale green and fragile sprouted from the soil–the thing about that is, Billy’s raw nerves hit the open air and it doesn’t sting under the weight of Steve’s gaze.

He bleeds, and Steve patches him up.

Nothing Billy ever says or does will leave a mark when raptured by Steve’s soothing, expert presence.

But today Billy feels like an inconvenience.

With his head, bent over the warm compress Steve Frankenstein's from an old sock and a bag of uncooked beans, Steve sniffs and says, "Sorry. Feeling a little under the weather. This is why I didn't want to fuck tonight," Even though he called Billy, rasping low in his ear about how his parents aren't home.

Billy's content to leave it at that.

Colds and bruised ribs and the promise Billy made to himself to be out of Steve's well-conditioned hair in twenty minutes tops.

He doesn't need to know what's got Steve flushed and stuffy.

Just the knowledge of it, that Harrington's spread thin and exhausted, running on half a bottle of cold medicine and a prayer, does something to Billy.

Has him wishing that he could trade places with his Prince. Wrap Steve in a blanket and feed him soup and sloppy, insistent orgasms until Steve's brand new again.

Billy shrugs, instead. Says, "We don't have to fuck," Because Billy's not an animal. He can control himself.

Steve's watery, tired eyes level him with a knowing look.

Billy shuffles on the window seat cushion. Feels warm, cooked all the way through despite the chilled glass mere inches from his skin. Must be the way Harrington's crouched in front of him, looking up at Billy like that, smirking up at Billy like that like there's a joke he's supposed to get.

Billy doesn't get it.

Steve tells him, anyway. "What, you drove all the way across town and you don't want me to bend over real nice for you, baby?"

And Billy would be lying, a tall-tale-having piece of shit if he said those words have no effect on him. That when Steve scoots forward, pressing harder against Billy's ribs like the warmth with heal him to the bone, his cock doesn't fill out against his stomach.

"Just wanna go home and pop a couple aspirin," Billy says through clenched teeth.

Steve doesn't believe him. "You gonna tell me how it happened this time?" He asks, eyes intent on Billy's face.

"Nothing to tell."

Steve shuffles sitting back on his haunches to study Billy's cold, harsh exterior. The hoodie he's wearing sloughs a little to one side, teasing at the strip of dotted skin right above his collarbone. He looks soft, like if Billy were to poke all the sharp, unfiltered edges of his home life into Steve's flesh he could take it. He'd absorb everything, and there'd be nothing left to kick back in Billy's face when he goes home tonight.

"Billy," Steve mumbles, and Billy kisses him.

Hard and desperate with teeth and tongue, eating up every small, pathetic noise Harrington can't choke back. Billy tugs Steve's arms around his neck, uncaring with his compress plops to the ground.

"Your Ribs," Steve moans, but Billy's got his legs under him.

He picks Steve off the ground, staggering toward the unmade mattress of Harrington's flu nest.

The sheets smell like him, linen salty with sweat and brisk with vapor-rub.

Billy wants to roll around in it.

He wants to fuck Steve open. Aches, like the bruises on his ribs, to take Steve apart.

So he does.

Billy devours him, burning through the hurt and the sickness until only the truth remains.

--

With one phrase, one boot tugged over his pant leg, car keys jingling in time with whatever shitty Holiday commercial is playing on the radio as Steve throws up in his bed, sicker than he’s ever been in his life--Billy opens Pandora's box.

“I’m sorry,” Steve gasps, tears springing to mix with his unearthed stomach acid, “I didn’t mean to throw up, fuck, I’m so sorry--”

“Don’t,” Billy fiddles with his bootlace, wondering how much force it would take to cut his finger off at the knuckle. “Jesus, don’t.”

Apologize.

Fall apart. Beg me to stay.

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Billy says because he never pegged Steve for a crier.

Max is. Just the motion of car-sickness, a singular step toward the riot of her stomach lining, and she’s done.

Steve nods. He winces, like any small noise or sudden movement will bring his head to rumbling disaster. Billy reaches across the mattress, mindful not to press in close to Steve’s back, and clicks the radio off.

Steve’s skin is flushed red. Not love-heart pink, not sunburn fried, but red. Like, McDonald’s fry carton red, and he’s shivering. Steve sits unsure as a toddler faced with a choice.

Help or ego death.

With his arms outstretched but withered in front of him, Steve blinks down at the vomit in his lap like a baby bird who’s scared shitless to fall from his nest, and Billy’s fingers flex against his ankle encased in worn, mud-stained leather to stop from reaching out.

It’s pathetic.

Billy clears his throat. Looks around Steve’s room like maybe the bedroom walls have gone translucent, in the last few minutes. Like the whole Harrington family is waiting to break the sleepy little nest Steve built for them. “Your mom--”

“She’s not home,” Steve gurgles. “She’s never home, you. You know that.”

His nose is already plugged up, already trying to cut off his air supply. Billy considers it a blessing, you know. Lucky red that Steve doesn’t have to smell the vomit.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, lip quivering, “I shouldn’t have asked you to come over when I wasn’t feeling good. I didn’t mean to throw up like this, I’m. Shit, I’m so fucking gross, no wonder you never stay with me--”

Billy snatches the leather from his foot. And Steve flinches, like. He’s worried Billy’s gonna take his boot into combat and use it to kill Steve dead for getting the flu.

“What,” Steve tries sweetly, “What are you--”

Billy’s car keys hit the nightstand with a pathetic, deafening ping. Finally relieved that they get their way, for once, and Billy’s giving in to the ache in his bones to stay.

With Steve.

In this fucking house.

He glares down at them, silently blinking a morse-coded reminder that he’s only doing this because there’s no other choice. Harrington’s not like Billy, he’s bronzed baby shoes on the fireplace mantle. He’s aged whiskey and old money and silver spoons full of cough medicine the Help runs out to by on winter nights just like this one.

But all of that amounts to nothing.

Family and money and status–It falls, just like fresh snow. Melts into puddles. Just like Billy, Steve’s going to have to take care of himself, and.

Billy ignores the huge, watery brown eyes that blink up at him. Bigger than they usually are, wider than Billy’s ever seen them, like. Full on Disney princess. Damsel in distress when Billy balls the comforter into a hazardous lump on the floor and tugs Steve off the mattress.

Steve whimpers. “Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom,” Billy snaps. He reminds himself to be gentle. It’s still softer than he’s ever been with anyone, including the time Max sprained her ankle and Billy had to carry her three miles home.

That has to count for something.

They sway, a little, Steve’s sweat sticking Billy’s shirt to his skin. It occurs to Billy, that. In all the months they’ve been doing this, using each other’s assholes as basketball nets and shooting load after load into cavernous pits designed to hold things more than just sex, he’s never been anywhere but the foyer and the staircase and this room.

He was asked, once. Last summer.

Big brown eyes, blinking at him, like always. Searching his face. Nails digging into palms and Billy, resisting the urge to hold Steve’s hands so he wouldn’t hurt himself when he muttered, “Do you want to watch T.V.?”

And there’s this thing, about Steve’s eyes. They store hope like polished snowglobes. They whittle at resolve and they leave people second-guessing and they twinkle, so brightly Billy has to turn away for fear that they’ll see right through the walls Billy repairs, right here, in this house.

Billy said no.

He pretend it was because he had someplace to be after he fucked Steve asleep and followed closely up the winding staircase, and thought to himself that if he walked into the den and saw a mammoth flatscreen television he’d break his fist punching a hole right through Dick Van Dyke’s face.

Because, really, he stopped being mad about Steve’s money right around the time he started loving him. Really, he was hiding in plain sight. Worried to the rotten, jagged core of him what would happen if he got too close. If watching T.V. turned into cuddling, and kissing that led nowhere, just.

Into the safe, comfortable warmth Billy found in Steve’s arms.

So Billy said no.

And he kept saying no, all the way down, until Steve throws up on his mattress and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, cooing softly. “Tired,” He says, “I’m tired, baby let’s go back to bed.”

Billy’s knees are weak. He’s gonna pass out, he’s–

“Where’s your bathroom, pretty boy?”

Steve blinks at him again, as if startled awake. “There’s one in my parent’s wing,” He says, and.

Whatever softness Billy was feeling goes up in a cartoonish plume of feathers ripped from imported pillow sacks. He steels his jaw, half-carrying Steve into the hallway.

Billy can be an asshole about it, later.

Steve gives mumbled, groggy directions. Turn left, it’s at the end of the hall, go past the California king and take another right, the fourth switch turns the mood lighting on. Yes, mood-lighting, Billy, my head hurts–

Steve has to be wrestled into the bathtub.

He cries the whole time, complaining that his shoulders hurt, his eyes are too heavy, and he’s gonna drown if Billy doesn’t sit and keep watch. Better yet, he should strip down and get in, right? Water safety and all that.

“Nice to see the flu didn’t rob you of your sex drive,” Billy says, grinning when Steve waggles his perfect, sweat-dotted eyebrows. “Slut,”

“Only for you, baby,” Steve says.

Billy notices far too late that there’s something warm, blooming in his chest, and. “Whore,” Billy reiterates, turning the hot water on high because whatever this thing is, he’s gonna burn it out of him

He knows it’s a fruitless cause. That this something warm has been taking root for a while now. He keeps a lid on it and tries to pull it up by the roots, normally, but.

Steve coos again at the bubble mix Billy pours for him, one capful so the room doesn’t overflow with champagne-pink clouds, and Billy feels his heart grow three sizes. It hurts. Feels like Steve’s banging both fists against his chest when He leans his groggy head back and blinks those eyes again and says–

“You’ve got the best cock I’ve ever seen,”

Billy shakes his head. “Got any soup in this haunted mansion?”

“I’m serious,” Steve says dreamily, “It’s perfect. It leans a little bit to the side, and you keep it so warm, it's like I’m sticking a lit candle in my ass–”

“You need medicine,” Billy opens the cabinet and finds nothing. It’s beige and empty, five-star hotel empty like no one lives here. “Is there some in your bathroom?”

“Took all of it before you came,” Steve snarks. Like, there. Like, gotcha.

And Billy’s not thrilled about it, but it explains a lot.

Loopy. Loopy little–

“You don’t wanna hear me wax poetic about the kickstand between your legs?” Steve leans all the way back in the tub, legs stretching long and soap-covered out in front of him as he smiles softly at the ceiling.

Billy buries his head in his hands. “Just shut up and burn the sick out of you.”

“Fine, I don’t have to talk about your cock I can talk about other things,” Steve gathers a mound of bubbles in his hands and blows them over the lip of the bathtub, hair sticking out in all directions. “I can talk about your eyes. Wanna talk about your eyes?”

“Steve–”

“They’re so blue,” Steve says. Like Billy doesn’t own a mirror. Like a million cheerleaders haven’t told him they’re gorgeous while they bat their own and try to get him to eat them out.

But this.

This is Steve. And when Steve says,” When I saw you that first day, in the parking lot, you know? Do you remember that first day?” Billy’s sick to his stomach.

He breathes deeply through his nose. “Yeah–”

“I thought you didn’t have iris’. I thought, that guy doesn’t have any color in his eyes,” Steve snorts. “Well, first I thought that you were too pretty to be a guy. Then I thought you were too pretty for Hawkins, that this town would eat your head or something, but then you turned and looked at me and I was like, no. No, he’s got blue eyes. And they’re so blue they’re almost clear. Or at least they were,” Steve says, like a confession, “That first day I saw you.”

Billy sits gingerly on the toilet. Wishes like hell he hadn’t left his book at home.

“Now they’re blue like the sky,” Steve mutters. He lends his chin to the edge of the tub, eyes rolling to ding like stones against Billy’s heart.

Steve splashes, somewhere in the bathtub. “Do you want to run away together?” He asks.

Billy resists the urge to puff his chest. To bare his teeth and say something to wipe that look off Steve’s face before the warm things in Billy’s stomach get too brave. He opens his mouth to say fuck off. You’re high on z-quil. You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I would let you take my hand. You’re dumber than I thought if you believe I wouldn’t fold me down to fit in your back pocket, if you think I wouldn’t drop everything and go anywhere with you.

Instead, Billy clears his throat. “Where would we go?” He asks, because.

In this snow globe world full of pink bubbles and flushed red skin and brown eyes, blowing wide with hope and joy. There’s no harm. If Billy doesn’t speak loud enough, reality won’t hear them. The sky won’t come crashing down, shattering like glass over his daydream.

“I don’t know,” Steve admits quietly. Just as quiet as Billy, playing along. “If your eyes are blue like the sky, maybe they’ll match the ocean, too.”

Billy holds his breath.

“Why do you keep showing up all hurt and bleeding?” Steve asks.

And Billy.

He’s gotta draw the line somewhere. So he clears his throat, wipes the sunrise of belonging from his cheeks, and says, “I’m gonna start a load of laundry,” because that’ll coax the sky to fall. It’ll call reality back to this room, slobbering like dogs at the callous of Billy’s feet.

Has to, right? No one in the history of the world has ever wanted to fuck the emotionally unavailable washerwoman, much less run away–

“You’re not gonna leave, right?” Steve mutters.

It’s not what Billy’s expecting, that. He’d let the game vanish so easily, tension lifting like a gossamer veil

Easy as pie.

Steve floats, a little, arms windmilling in that massive tub to get closer to the edge. Where Billy’s wringing both hands to stop the chorus of he likes you he tolerates you and you love him what’s the fucking problem from all the soft things in his heart.

Billy lets go of his hands, released like doves into the space between them. He brushes the hair off Steve’s scorching hot forehead. “No,” he says roughly, “No, I’m just gonna wash the sheets, okay?”

“And make some hot cocoa,” Steve snaps.

Billy grins. Warming himself by the heat of that fire. “Sure,”

“One for you, too?” Steve narrows his eyes, floating around his pink snow globe. He cranes his head so he never loses sight of Billy, and never lets him free.

–

Billy disappears through Steve’s bedroom window.

It’s dramatic and noisy and too much like Romeo and Juliet. Starcrossed lovers and the thought that if Steve wakes up and sees this, Billy will throw himself out the window to stifle his own embarrassment.

But just like before, Billy has no choice.

The window is wide and bright.

Steve’s words hang over him, like a day of bad weather. He knows that if he pads across the slate of soft carpet to vanish down the stairs and shut the front door behind him, everything that happened tonight will follow like a storm cloud. And Billy will have to cover himself with the neck of his jacket so as not to get wet. And it won’t be snow globe fantasies, anymore, it’ll be real.

Real enough to hurt.

Billy tucks Steve farther under his blanket, still warm from the dryer. In his sleep, Steve places his warm, soft fingers on Billy’s and anchors him there. So Billy stays, crouched and looming, for long enough that it starts to feel strange.

But not real.

In the dark, inky world of nightfall, Billy can unmask his love and it doesn’t count.

–

He shows up to Family Video a few days later and Steve acts like nothing happened.

He’s still happy when the little golden bell dings! And it’s Billy that darkens his doorstep. He still groans. Still says, “Thank God you’re here, I was two seconds from decapitating my hand in the tape rewinder,” but his eyes say something else.

They sparkle.

They whisper I’m so happy to see you. I missed you, where have you been why haven’t you called?

But maybe that's just wishful thinking.

And that girl. The one with the short hair and the chipped nail polish who always looks pissed to see him, tells Steve, “Make it quick,” because she’s the only one free of delusion about what’s going on here.

Billy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asks, looking everywhere but at Steve, and still, he doesn’t miss the look that passes like electricity between Harrington and his girlfriend.

Billy wonders if she knows.

What Steve smells like when he’s covered in a sheen of fresh sweat. How his legs shake around Billy’s hips, how they lock together when he says come inside me, please come inside, fill me up. Billy wonders if she’s picked up on it. Finicky and shoddy as the connection is between them.

“Sure,” Steve says casually. His mouth is set in a thin, stubborn line, and there’s an air of detachment. Like it doesn’t matter, either way. Like he was hoping Billy would show up, here, run ragged and angry and isolated as the day he was born, to remind Steve why they would never work.

That Girl takes her place in front of the computer, busying herself with things Billy will never understand and as Steve rounds the corner, beelining toward the back exit, Billy doesn’t miss the sad, pitying stare she levels behind him.

Billy thinks.

Maybe the only one with delusions here is himself.

–-

There’s snow on the ground. Somewhere, rumbling past brick-lined streets and dodging gouged trashcans a truck splatters ice melt, noble in its losing war.

There’s wind, in Billy’s hair.

Ice on the sidewalk.

Steve parks them against the brick wall. Far too close and far too sweet when he asks, “Are you cold?” Like he could move the moon and Saturn to change the seasons.

Billy jams his fingers into his pockets, angry, and can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.

Everything nags at him. Steve’s soft brown eyes, the girl behind the counter, the bruise under Billy’s left rib. Hawkins was just a bad dream. A detour. Still, it wasn’t all bad. He knew it would end, it was always going to end, so it might as well end now.

Billy clears his throat. “Listen–”

“We could go somewhere,” Steve says, sensing like a wayward satellite that something is wrong, here. “Do you wanna go? There’s a coffee shop on main, we could–”

“I don’t. I don’t want to go anywhere,” Billy says sternly. He watches the frosted ground, imagining it transformed into white, warm sand. That he had taken Steve at his offer and even though they gave it a shot and ran away together, they still withered and froze to death.

Predictable.

Billy clears his throat again, wishing for a glass of water. “This will only take a minute, alright?”

Steve nods. “What will?”

“My answer to what you said on Friday.”

“Yeah?” Steve wonders, stepping closer to fend off a sharp, freezing burst of air from the North.

“I know you were sick. Talking out your ass.”

“Billy–”

“No, just.” He chances a look at Steve. His nose is red, already. Like Friday. Like hope. And he might as well be the cause of this. His eyes are soft and kind and the effect it has on Billy makes him feel like things have changed.

Like, maybe, they could–

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Billy tells the asphalt. “Or. Fuck each other, I mean.”

Steve’s eyes are slanted. Huge like they get when he’s been hurt. “Why not?”

Billy’s stomach twists at the sight of it, and he swallows to stop from throwing up. Or embarrassing himself with all the shit his warm feelings urge him to say. Because whether Billy likes it or not, the door is closing.

And he doesn’t like it.

It makes him bleed. Makes him shiver, terrified eyes tracking the hand Steve wants to put on his shoulder to rub warmth back into him. Even now, even still–

“Stop,” Billy gasps. “Stop being so nice to me.”

“No,”

“You have a girlfriend. It’s not supposed to be like this,” Billy shrugs Steve’s hand from his elbow, watching as it topples, the last leaf of fall, against Steve’s leg. “You’re not supposed to do this.”

“You’re full of shit,”

"Fuck you," Billy turns to leave, to disappear, but.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Steve gets in his way, arms wide and vulnerable. "Why would you think that?"

“I never should’ve helped you, I should have let you take care of yourself.” Billy snaps, and.

He wants to say more. Wants to insist that it goes back further, stretching into study sessions and drunken Homecoming parties, and sloppy handjobs far above the thrashing water of Hawkin’s quarry. It trickles into first meetings and clear, lifeless eyes across school parking lots.

Tears, blue as the summer sky, shed against Billy’s pillow over this boy and the hole in Billy’s chest that he couldn’t bare Steve falling into.

Steve is unphased. A masked vigilante. He steels his jaw, asking, “Okay, so why didn’t you leave?” Like he already knows the answer.

Billy wants to punch him. Wants to kiss it better, wants to–

“That’s not who you are, Billy,” Steve says. “You help people. With homework, and if their cars break down on the side of the highway. You give parts of yourself to everyone, even though it’s like pulling teeth. Even though nobody ever does the same in return. It’s just what you do. Kindness from you is so natural, I don’t know why you can’t admit it.”

“I–” Billy tries, grasping at straws. Feels like his tongue is too fat for his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks. His eyes are watery. Tear swamped. They cling to his lashes, refusing to fall. Refusing to give in. “You’re not the easiest person in the world to fall in love with, Billy. You’re kind of an asshole."

Billy takes a soft, shuddering breath. “You never should’ve fucked me, then.”

“The first time, or—”

“Every time, ever again,” Billy chokes out. He scrubs a hand across his face.

Steve’s cheeks fall red. Flushed. He wrinkles his nose in anger and closes the distance between them. He studies Billy’s face, eyes searching each peak and valley like he’s discovered something ancient and important and so complicated that it’s kept him awake at night, trying to find a solution.

“Is that all this ever was to you? Just fucking?”

“Yes,” Billy tells him, even though it’s loss. And heartbreak. And pulling teeth.

“I don’t believe you,” Steve admits softly, softer than Billy deserves. Then, as if it could possibly mean anything or change their future; "I don't have a girlfriend, Billy. I only have you."

And that so--

Isn't the point.

Still, Billy holds his ground. He says, “We’re done. This is over.”

Steve rolls his eyes, shiny as glass, and still.

Nothing.

The hole in Billy’s chest opens up and swallows Steve whole, just like Billy always knew it would.

–

Smack in the middle of dreaming of California and honey-soaked walls covered in posters and tacked friendship bracelets from summer camp, Maxine breaks his door down.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” She says, instead of hello.

Billy isn’t in the mood to uncurl himself from the mattress. He imagines it would make a noise, like gum scraped from the frozen sidewalk, and tucks his face into the pillow. “Close the door,” Billy tells her.

“I broke it down,” Max snarls.

She wasn’t the first.

Neil did. Took it off the hinges a couple of weeks ago as a punishment for Billy’s rash, impulsive decision to disappear into the arms of a fairytale prince and not have enough decency to beg for forgiveness when he came home with a smile on his face.

Billy doesn’t point it out.

Max turns anyway and balances Billy’s door over the gaping, darkening void that will let their father in on the well-kept secret that they’re okay, now. More than okay. A united front, determined to make it out alive.

When she turns back, eyes the same watery, icy blue as his own, Billy wonders why she loves him. So he asks, says, “Why do you love me, Maxine?”

And Max tells him, “Because if I didn’t nobody else would,” and she’s right.

She must sense that he latches onto her joke and carves it into his arm, true as the commandments on that stone Moses gifted to the world, because she plops herself onto the mattress.

“Talk to me,” She says. When Billy starts shaking, she rubs his back. Says, “Wanna eat all the ice cream in the freezer and watch The Breakfast Club?”

It’s their ritual. Their cure-all for living in this house, and yet.

Billy doesn’t answer. Can’t. Won’t survive the pissed-off, worried expression that will eclipse Max’s face when he admits that he feels like Bender, today. Like he lashed out and hurt his Claire, his Steve, who will never look at him the same way if he ever looks at all.

Billy reaches, mechanically, behind his headboard and brings Mr. Mac out from his hiding place. Billy hugs his favorite teddy bear to his chest, uncaring who sees.

Max doesn’t acknowledge it. Just says, “Steve called,” because she knows Billy will answer.

“On the phone?”

“Radio.”

“He’s an idiot,” Billy grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Someone could’ve heard you. Someone–”

“Neil isn’t home,” Max reassures. She lets it sit for a minute, knowing that Billy will thaw without the lurking presence of his father, a massive, dark cloud poised to rain ice on everything.

But Billy doesn’t thaw. Can’t. Won’t survive it.

Max lets him shake and cry for a handful of seconds, and then she pulls his hair.

Billy swats at her wrist. “Don’t be a shithead.”

“Why’d you break up with Steve?”

“We weren’t together–”

“That’s such a lie,” Max tugs on his hair again, so light it feels like wind tussling. “If you didn’t break up, why did Steve radio to ask me to come get your stuff from his house?”

Billy flips over to glare at the ceiling. “It was a lie.”

“Huh?”

“A fib, a con, a sham,” Billy says, “I’ve never left anything at his freaky fucking mansion on the hill.”

Max looks like she doesn’t believe him.

His belly flares red at that, anger gnawing at the lining. “It’s true. That’s the whole point of casual sex, you fuck and you don’t spend the night and you never–”

“Ew, Billy,” Max groans, palms flying to cover her ears. “I’m sixteen, that’s so gross, why would you say that?” She gags dramatically, fists dropping into her lap when Billy stops jabbering and smirks at her, instead. “You’re my brother and Steve’s my babysitter.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well, he could be,” Max shoots back, eyes boring into Billy’s soul deeper than anyone else ever could.

Sometimes he hates that she knows him so well. That despite everything, every mountain they ever had to climb to get here, stretching into a beautiful picture behind the ringing truth that nothing on earth would be strong enough to tear them apart, she’s always understood him.

Billy pats Mr. Mac on his weathered old snout. “What did he say I left over there?”

“The usual shit,” Max says. “Clothes, a pack of cigarettes, your annotated copy of The Virgin Suicides–-”

“God, that’s such bullshit. I never left anything, Max, I always made sure to take my–” She stretches out on the mattress beside him, throwing elbows until Billy makes room. “Jesus, you’re gonna poke a hole in my stomach.”

“Wanna know what I think?”

“No,” He spits. “Not really.”

“I think you tripped up,” Max tells him anyway. Billy pouts, resisting the urge to turn from her. To bury his head under the blankets and scream until the Earth crumbles apart. “Oh, come on, Billy. You’ve been over there pretty much every weekend until the ridiculously early hours of the morning since last year and you’ve never, not once, been too tired or drunk or horny–”

“--We’re not having this conversation–”

“--To accidentally leave something behind?”

Billy thinks about it. “No.”

“Not even pencils? Or math homework? Or a stray sock stuck somewhere under the bed until Steve’s maid finds it and asks where it came from?” Billy doesn’t say anything. He breathes deeply through his nose, watching as Max sits and jams both knees against his rib cage.

“Ow, little shithead.”

“You’ve taken bags over there before. Like, duffel bags,” Max determines.

“Yeah, full of basketball gear,” Billy levels.

When he holds her venomous stare and doesn’t crack and spill all his secrets to her, she frowns. “It’s okay,” Max says. “You can tell me.”

Billy sits against the wall. “Tell you what?”

“Don’t play stupid, Hargrove.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Billy snaps, sounding to his own ears like a man backed into a corner. Ready to slit his own throat before he admits that–

Billy squares his jaw. “All of that shit is circumstantial.”

It’s a trigger. Stupid. He’s so stupid–

“I don't believe you,” Max says easily, and.

It’s too much like Steve. Soft and gentle and dipped in sad, pitying glances that unleash an entire can of worms all over his grandmother’s quilt. I don’t believe you. She says, in so few words. You’re not as good at this as you think you are, because I know you. I’ve been watching. I’ll take your lies and plant gardens from your deceit.

“Max,” Billy says.

I don’t believe you. In the summertime, you’ll look out the window and you’ll have to face it. Buds and blooms of loss in the shape of the choices you trampled underfoot like weeds.

“Max, I–”

You lost him.

Max doesn’t push it. She tucks Billy’s stupid, soft teddy bear against his neck and crawls under the blankets with him.

Billy curls inward, wishing like hell that the warm things in his belly didn’t have teeth.

You’re stupid. They say. Sugary sweet. You’re a coward spinning lies made of glass. Keep telling yourself you haven’t fallen in love.

When the front door opens somewhere on the other side of the world, Billy hardly registers a change. Neil and Susan speak in hushed, whispering voices that travel like vines over the walls of the house on Cherry Street. They tap snow-covered shoes on the porch outside, the screen door slamming shut as they wonder about the kids.

Billy’s just about to fall asleep when Neil pounds on the wall. “Son, where’s your sister,” Neil demands, already on the brink of explosion. “She’s not in her room–”

“Go away,” Max tells the monsters. The one in the hallway, the one that lives like a shadow cast over everything Billy tries to shape into something else.

And Max doesn’t leave his side.

Billy shakes hard enough to knock the foundation out from under them, and Max stays put.

–

Everyone is full of speeches.

Billy’s learned to tune them out but he doesn’t plug his ears. He takes it, eyes cast toward table tops and high school parking garages, imagining each swirling grain and skittering pebble is the sound of the ocean foaming up around him.

Neil’s pressed vocabulary is always related to shortcomings. Susan offers words of reassurance, Max covers landmines with sarcasm and presence. Action trumps words. Words mean nothing.

Billy doesn’t listen to any of it.

Other people have things to say to him, and that’s harder to ignore.

Hard, because he had politeness beat into him before he knew how to foster his own. Hard, because the truth is, no one gives a shit what Billy has to say about the world. Hard, because Billy never thought his own speeches were scribbled with anything worth listening to, so he keeps his visions to himself.

It’s easy to see that no one ever had the decency to tell Steve Harrington the truth.

Billy’s window slides open one second after the clock strikes twelve.

And Billy doesn’t turn away from the wall, because he gets in his bones what this means. Steve’s shadow is the Hindenburg. He pauses, hunched over Billy’s laundry hamper like he’s worried about a siren going off or that Billy will tear the oak bandaid from its gaping hallway wound to alert the guards himself.

It’s snowing, again.

Billy can’t decide if Steve’s labored, shallow breathing that layers with the heating vent is from stammering over the holly bush under Billy’s window, or if Steve’s upset.

Probably both.

Probably a stewing, concentrated mix of the latter when he straightens and says, “What happened to your door?”

Billy clutches the teddy bear under his chest.

There was a time when he would’ve been embarrassed for Steve to see even the mailbox at the end of their driveway, let alone his bedroom or his fleece pajama pants, and Mr. Mac, the way Billy holds him tighter for fear that Neil is lurking in the darkness.

Eventually, Steve straightens. “Are you asleep?” He asks.

When Billy shakes his head, Steve pulls his sneakers off, lightly tapping their frozen toes against the windowpane.

“Hey,” Billy snaps, twisting around to shoot daggers at Steve’s pink, windswept cheeks. “My dad–”

“If he comes in here, I’ll kill him,”

“You’re full of shit.”

“He’s the one who did that, right?” Steve straightens, pointing a snow-logged, chunky sneaker at the doorway.

And even now, after so many admissions of grief in Billy’s life, after Steve’s patched split lips and broken knuckles and fucked all the sadness from the room until it has to seep back under the cover of his grandmother’s quilt, Billy wants to tell Steve he’s wrong.

Feels, deep in the center of himself, those words sharpening themselves like knives against the pumice of Billy’s heart.

But Steve is unwilling, immovable. He takes Billy’s silence as an admission and drops his sneaker to the ground. “You can’t stay here anymore,” He says like He’s got any authority to make those kinds of decisions.

Billy smacks his pillow into shape. “You’re out of your mind.”

“I need to talk to you,”

“Shove it up your ass, Harrington, I’m not in the mood for grand speeches,” But the irony is that Steve’s going to climb on his podium, dust off his soap box, and say it.

And Billy’s going to listen.

If there was ever anyone in his life that he would take at their word, that he would fold his ego to make room in a twin-sized bed for, it’s Steve.

And Steve knows it, so he lowers his voice. Says, “I know I can’t make you come with me–”

“I’m not skipping town.”

“Why not?”

“For. A million reasons,” Billy tells the wall. Namely. “Max. I’m not leaving without Max.”

And it’s true.

True blue, more than the sky, deeper than the ocean, a butterfly sprouting wings of sadness in Billy’s ribcage for using it as an excuse. Because if Max saw them now, Steve poised by the window in sock feet, offering the world but ready to leave it behind, and Billy, nursing bruises on his left side and wondering what will happen to his bedroom door–

If Max saw them now, she’d say they’re in love.

She’d tell Billy he’s an idiot for letting the moon pass him by. She’d pack a bag for him and tell him to run, that she’ll be okay for another few years.

That she’ll meet him on the Golden Gate Bridge with the sunset in her hair.

“Billy,” Steve says, soft as summer rain.

Billy flinches, curling into himself.

There are hands on his back, ice-cold and gentle. “Billy, baby, look at me.”

Billy can’t.

He’s shaking. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”

“I know–”

“Every time. All the things I said,” Billy pets harshly at his teddy bear. Doesn’t care who sees. “I try so hard not to let that part of me call the shots because it’s outdated, you know? All the stuff it says, all the walls it builds, it’s trying to protect someone who doesn’t exist anymore.”

Billy’s pillow blooms wet, little spots of color. “I don’t want to be that guy, Steve.”

“You aren’t,” Steve kisses his neck, love, and hope pressed like flowers against Billy’s skin.

The heavens open up. “I love you,” Billy says, and it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would. It sings. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Steve. I love you and I’m sorry. So fucking sorry–”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Billy turns, blinking confused and helpless.

“When I said you’re not an easy person to love. That was fucked up. I was angry because I couldn’t understand why you never open up to me, why you won’t let yourself be happy,” Steve’s gaze holds steady, soft, and sweet on Billy’s face. “It’s not your fault that you try to protect yourself from hurt, Billy. You’ve never had anyone be gentle with you.”

Steve touches his face, setting off fireworks wherever he lands. “Let me try. I love you. I want to take care of you and you have to let me try.”

And the worst part is Steve believes what he’s saying with his whole, wide, forgiving heart. He believes, sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, that Billy’s a good person. That he’ll cross bridges and climb mountain ranges toward healing, and when he gets there he’ll be someone worth running away with.

But maybe the worst part. Underneath it all, gripped by landslides of disappointment that ring in his father’s voice, is that Billy wants to believe it, too.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Steve says suddenly. He turns Billy over, and Billy goes easy, the bear still clutched by his face.

Outside the window, Hawkins is covered in white.

Billy’s grandmother always said when assembling quilts just like this one, that snow meant rebirth. It brings forgiveness and change and fresh starts, regardless of whether anyone deserves it.

“Where do you wanna go, baby?” When Steve kisses him, slow and deep and like he’s finally found home, Billy isn’t sure he’s deserving.

But love isn’t something anyone should have to beg for, crawling hundreds of miles on their knees. Billy is tired of fighting.

“Anywhere,” He says, fingers gentle on Steve’s face. “We can go anywhere.”

[blindrapture]

SATURDAY MAY 21ST, 2011 (Title Drop From Red Sky)

12:00 AM OH GOD THE RAPTURE IS BURNING I'M ON FIRE I'M ON FIRE OH MY GOD OH MY GOD IT BURNS OH oh oh.. oh.

12:01 AM Sorry, I'm not on fire. My eyes were just adapting to the bright light from outside the window. It's a sheer red out there. What the fuck?

12:02 AM I’m outside now. Barefeet, shorts, don’t care. Just wanna know what the fuck’s causing all the ruckus. I can hear firetrucks. Something's on fire out there. That's why the sky is red. That's all this was. See! What'd I tell you, journal? Rapture. Bah! Just another scare. … Loud voices from back inside. That'll be my parents.

12:06 AM I didn't find them. Actually, I didn't find anyone. I'm standing here in the kitchen, and there's no more voices. The lights were on, though, so someone must have come downstairs.

12:10 AM I checked. I checked if mum was out back, having a smoke. I thought I heard noises. She wasn't out there. But something was. Out in the back garden. It was bigger than an animal, or any animal I'd expect in England. For a moment I thought it was Adam, crawling around on the grass. It looked as skinny as him. And the smell… I shut the door when I saw eyes reflecting light, looking my way. And then I went back up to my bedroom. I.. need to calm down. I need to get back in my headspace. Nothing is happening. It could be pranks, it could be my own anxious mistaken eyesight. I'm scared of spiders and dogs. Of course I'm going to be scared. I need.. to put this journal down. I'm fooling myself. I need. To. Watch some porn.

2:00 AM Okay. Fuck. Now I do need to write. I’ve been hiding in the bathroom for a really long time now. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while that thing crawls around my house. My fucking leg's bleeding. Getting freaked, calm down Jordan. Fooling myself. Jordan Dooling myself. Retrace my steps. Porn was lovely. Chatted with Bones on AIM. Heard walking around in the kitchen, figured it was mum or dad or Adam. Someone getting back from having a look at the fires. So I went downstairs, I wanted to clear this all up. It wasn't my family. It was the thing from the garden. It's a crawling crawly thing, it's a person with bright eyes. It, he, scratched me. Wasn't too bad. I was already running, it only grazed me. Because. This is just some person in our house. This is ridiculous. This is utterly ridiculous. I’m gonna deal with it.

2:10 AM I made it back to my room, at least. I was able to sucker the fucker in the back, I hit it with my elbows as hard as I could. It’s not a person, I think I can say that much, maybe it’s a kind of mothman but without the wings or some shit, okay there’s something uncanny about no just shut the fuck up

2:22 AM Door’s barricaded. I think. Got chairs and a desk up against it. I don’t hear it trying to break in or anything. Is this Rapture? It’s a goddamn animal that I simply do not know, probably the feral animal that inspired that story “The Rake.” I always thought that was a bit of a weird name, but then again I also liked that about it. Its claws definitely resemble rakes. And I seem to recall there being some other, more archaic definition of “Rake.” So relax.

2:27 AM It’s just like killing a spider. Just like killing a I’ve never killed a spider before. Where are mum and dad?

2:32 AM It’s gone. o_o I’ve checked everywhere, the house is silent and the front door is open. Closing that fucker right away. Barricading it too. And the back door. In fact, I think I’m just gonna make sure everything’s tip-top and then I’ll.. see if the internet will offer any consolati explanation.

3:04 AM I wonder if anyone will see my Facebook status as just an ironic comment. “THE FUCKING RAKE JUST ATTACKED ME, THE SKY IS RED AND I AM SCARED.” Eh, hopefully not.

3:30 AM MOTHERFUCKING COCKROACH THAT THING’S THE SIZE OF MY HEAD crawling on the wall in the corner of my FUCKING room and this is JUST a FUCKING cockroach I can DEAL WITH THIS Fuck my fears. Okay? Fuck. My. Fears. It’s just you and me, cockroach. You’re going down.

3:33 AM God, I’m tired. Starting to fall asleep. sllee pn.ow

9:42 AM I woke up feeling something licking my hand. Thought it was Oscar, so I petted it. It ran off, then I remembered I haven’t seen Oscar since I was in America last August. Can’t see out the window, it’s like a beige curtain on the outside or something. Well here I am, writing in my little diary again. Journal. Thing. I just saw a spider the size of my foot. I think it had two heads. Might have been sleep paralysis. The weirdness did not go away overnight. This is the day of Rapture. This is.. coincidence or not. This is something I just want to write through. Writing has helped me through worse feelings than fear.

10:18 AM I’ve been speaking with my friends over the internet. Spoke to Danny, Fentzy, and Anna. They’re three of the people I speak to the most anymore. I don’t think every country’s getting this thing, because Danny and Anna thought I was joking, and Fentzy mentioned a Rapture but I think she was joking. I don’t know if this “End Of The World As We Know It” gig is true or not, religious shit or what-have-you, but I do know that something strange is going on in England. And I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me. But I feel oddly okay now. I feel lucid.

10:31 AM My stomach is aching. I’m so hungry. I’m going to look around the house.

10:35 AM IN THE KITCHEN

10:37 AM WHERE IS IT WHERE’D IT GO WHERE IS IT WHERE’D IT GO

10:38 AM I think it’s gone. I have no idea what that thing was. I remember some bits of orange. It looked like some kind of.. spidercat. Eight cat-legs, six cat-eyes. Big tail. FDIJFIFDFDJ

10:40 AM MY ROOM MY ROOM ITS MOUTH OPENS THE WRONG WAY

10:45 AM Okay. I shut the door on it, I’ve barricaded my door again. I hear it chirping its demonic meows, its eight legs kneading against the wall. I can’t keep being unprepared like this. I can't! What if this is all that the thing from last night was? Just a cat. A monster cat. I can protect myself from that. I need a weapon.

10:48 AM EAT SHIT AND DIE

10:50 AM BACK DEVIL BIRDS

10:51 AM Okay. Okay. I ran into my room, I grabbed the nearest blunt object I could find, and I caved in that fucker’s skull. Its legs were still crawling around without a head, so I smashed them again and again until they stopped. I didn’t mean to be so barbaric. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe this really is Rapture. Maybe it’s affecting my mind. I can see out my window now.

10:52 AM MY BLUNT OBJECT WAS A HUMAN ARM Fuck this shit, fuck this shit, fuck this shit oh my god. CLUTCHING TIGER STRIPES That is, the Guitar Hero controller. The. ..who am I talking to.

10:53 AM Sorry, Tiger Stripes. Looks like you’re gonna be shredding a different type of lick today. Looks like we’re really going Through the Fire and Flames.

11:10 AM I spent the past twenty minutes on the internet. I have a thread. On TVTropes. They’ve been giving me so much help throughout the past several months. Today, we discussed my options. A lot of the people on there thought I was joking, so they just suggested praying and aiming for the head. One person even suggested the double-tap. I’ll keep it in mind. There were a couple of people who I could tell knew I was serious. They suggested going to my nearest store, stocking up on food. Staying away from my family. They didn’t need to tell me that last one. I’ve made a habit of it by now. I told Fentzy, in case I didn’t make it out of this, that I loved her. She thought I was joking.

11:11 AM I grabbed Tiger Stripes, put on my trilby, my black blazer, my purple scarf, and I began unbarricading the front door. As I stepped out into Rapture, I made my 11:11 wish. I wished my heart would stop beating. I dunno.

11:12 AM My neighbourhood is deserted. The cars are all either gone or broken beyond repair. I can hear screaming and sounds I can’t recognize off in the far distance. The sky is a brighter red. The sun is not right. I’m holding my guitar close to my chest. This neighbourhood’s got at least seven cats.

11:13 AM I’m out of the neighbourhood.

11:15 AM I’ve made it up to the high street. There are no cars. Off in the distance, I think I can see something moving. Something huge. ..it’s humanoid. I’m running to Tesco now.

11:18 AM What was that roar I heard just now?

11:20 AM Tesco what ZOMBIES MOTHERFUCKING ZOMBIES EVERYWHERE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

11:25 AM They don’t seem too bothered that I’m here. They look undead, might not be zombies, definitely look gross, but they’re kinda just bumbling about. I think it’s time to stock up on food.

12:23 PM I’m on my way back now. I’ve got tons of soda, tons of crisps, quite a lot of Pot Noodles, and a LOT of sausage rolls. Bring it on, motherFUCKER

12:27 PM hiding in an alleyway. NO

12:33 PM OH GOD IT GOT A POT NOODLE

12:38 PM Did I lose it? Where is it?

12:40 PM Okay, I’ve been hiding out behind this house for a while. I think it’s safe.

12:42 PM Wait why am I even going back to my house? That’s not exactly a safe place. I’ll knock on this house’s door here.

12:45 PM It seems deserted. There’s a basement, but I’m not going in there; I locked the door instead. This place has a big-ass computer, fast internet. The kitchen’s full of food, too.

12:50 PM Looking out the window now. I can’t see the fuckers anymore. They're big. Like twenty feet tall, and way wider and longer. They’re humanoid.. but they have no legs. It’s just a torso with arms and a head. No face. Their skin is beige. One of the fuckers was chasing me. I’m pretty sure I recognize them from something on the internet. Like the Rake. Trying not to think about that fact. Just. Eating. Regaining myself.

12:52 PM what hang on. why do I hear music. That's. Mastodon's "The Czar." Absolutely, that's what that is. Where's it coming from?

12:53 PM It’s coming from the basement. I’m going to check it out. Opening the basement door, it's a much longer staircase than I remotely expected. Down into.. darkness...

12:57 PM God, am I not at the bottom yet?

1:00 PM The top of the staircase is right behind me. I’ve been going down for six minutes, though! What the hell? Fuck it. Okay. Won't follow the music. Will just let it play.

1:01 PM ..this isn’t the house.

1:03 PM This is a bunker. I’m in a bomb shelter. This doesn’t make any sense. I’m keeping Tiger Stripes close. There’s a big door here, a steel door. I can’t budge it.

1:05 PM “The Czar” has ended. I never did like that song all that much.Too much repetition.

1:06 PM I got fed up and whacked the door with Tiger Stripes, just once, and it just fell apart, burst into a dozen pieces. Behind it is a huge.. maze? I can see nothing but flat colours marking the walls. It’s cold here. The walls extend as high as I can look.

1:11 PM MOTHERFU Okay. Hi. Right. Was just walking on, trying dead-ends, and the floor caved in under me. Now I’m.. somewhere. I don't.. feel hurt, beyond the shock. I don't think I fell that far. But wow, that's a lot of shock. I see no walls around me down here. Above me is a hole in.. reality??? Where I fell down??? And there's nothing out there around me. I wouldn't even call it "pure black." It's not even the absence of light. It's the absence of… Maybe I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm on a patch of grass in an endless void of nothingness. Is this Rapture, then? Is this where my family went? Why don't I feel scared? I feel tense with the walking I'm having to do, but right now it all feels like a dream. It feels like, if I keep walking, I'm going to learn something. There is an artificial light in the floor shining up, lighting the grass.

1:14 PM I stepped on the light and fell even further. Down the rabbit hole, I guess. I don’t.. I landed on a rug on a hard floor, walls around me again. A big empty building. That landing did hurt more.

1:18 PM Oh god, finally, a couch. I’m gonna.. I’m gonna have a lie-down. I’m exhausted.

4:01 PM Fuck. I’m still here. I'm not back in my bed at home, dreaming the whole thing. I'm still on a couch. ..I hear voices.

4:03 PM After some looking, I traced the faint voices to behind a set of double doors some rooms away. As soon as I opened the doors, the voices stopped. Gave me some deja vu. This is a cafeteria. It’s completely deserted. There are vending machines. I could do with a drink. Some kind of juice.

4:13 PM Checked out another door, took me to a room filled with file cabinets. Pretty big ones, too. I wonder what’s inRJwedfgfEaI ..body parts. Body parts were in that cabinet. No blood, but they were still squishy and taut. There are a lot of file cabinets. I could get lost in here.

4:20 PM THE CEILING IS A GIANT FILE CABINET WHERE THE FUCK AM I

4:27 PM Okay. I swear, this is the way I came. I literally just came from this way. So why is there suddenly a file cabinet blocking the path?

4:40 PM RAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURE SMILE, YOU ARE BEING LISTENED TO :)

4:50 PM I lost my journal. Turns out it was in the first file cabinet I opened. I’m fucking lost.

4:57 PM Footsteps ahead. Who’s there?

4:59 PM FUCK WHAT IS THAT OH MY GOD WHAT WHAT IS THAT THING FUCK FUCK NO LET GOfdffjdsj

5:00 PM 5:00 PM 5:00 PM 5:00 PM 5:00 PM 5:00 PM 5:00 PM 5:00 PM RAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURE WORLD ENFLAMED IN FEAR :)

5:01 PM I got my journal back. That thing’s covered in red hair. That.. that thing. That grabbed my journal. It’s just a mass, a writhing mass of red hair. It’s taller than me, oh my god, it’s tall. It ran away.

5:03 PM MOTHERFUC I fell through the floor. Again. I’m wait, what? Now I’m back in that.. couch room. Fuck it, I’m going back to sleep. Not worth it. No thank you.

5:45 PM WHAT THE WHO’S THERE huh. No one’s here. ..the TV’s on now. Jesus’ face is on. Goodie, the Jesus Springer Show. Fuck it, I get it, it’s Rapture and shit. I’m looking around. I opened the door and through it is exactly the same room. Look, there’s the TV, right there. Behind me is the same room. Ahead is the same room. The building's layout has changed. Right. Okay. ..back behind me, there’s now a door. In the floor. Dare I open it?

5:47 PM I fall down the streets all around me stacked vertical falling horizontal I see myself reflected everywhere, in every window, in every brick. Faces staring at me, and they’re all me. Trilbies scattering down paths, scarves dissolving down doors, Guitar Hero controllers being scrutinized by whatever beings hide behind my coloured shadows.

5:48 PM There’s something solid forming in the air. Is that Tiger Stripes? Can’t be, it’s black, mine’s white. I see it, but I’m not the only one. A man without a face, being led down the prison block to his cold cell, fills the room, is reflected everywhere, and is fully aware of everything in here. Does he see me?

5:49 PM I see seven secret sentences written on the walls. I hear the laughter of seven brothers. I feel seven temples prepare for the end. There's a Tower fit for a newborn, the Knights prepare as Rapture is coming. The Harlot and the Beast begin their game of cat and mouse. It’s all as was arbitrarily transcribed in some predictable prophecy long ago, told again and again (do it again) until it's finally told by someone who can tell it different. But that book closes, and the only memory I have of all of this lies on the page I just wrote.

5:50 PM A concert of the comatose shudders as Elsie Carr sings. "The capital messiah behind me who speaks in atonal chords with no key looks like a room - a dream - a wordless breath, follows me home - he's the wight hand of Death."

5:51 PM I AM AWAKE, I am lucid. I am okay. I see… trees. But I’m in a car. I’m in the backseat of a hearse. We’re driving through a forest. “The Man Who Wasn't There” is playing on the radio. Sunsetters. The sky is a darker red. Who’s driving? ..it’s a giant cockroach, as big as me, with Jesus Christ’s smiling head. For fuck’s sake. For fuck's… ..fucking fuck. He looked at me for a second, looked back to the road, then looked back a second time, his smile faltering. "Who are you?” He asked it. I don’t think I know the answer to that question anymore. He’s turned back to the road. “Doesn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. Rapture is coming, and you’re coming along for the ride.” Now all is silent. The doors are locked.

5:56 PM I’m going to confess: I’m scared. I am, I really am. I have no idea what’s going on. I guess the world really is ending. I guess I’m going to Hell. I guess the Christians were right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. To dad and to mum and to my brothers and to everyone I’ve ever let down, and to myself. I never seemed to grasp that life doesn’t make sense. I never seemed to get the hang of anything, and it's because there's evidently nothing to get the hang of, except for wastes of time. And now that I know this is it, I can’t help but feel frustrated that in trying to open up all I can feel is self-pity. For fuck’s sake, Jordan. Here’s to that sixteen-year-old without a clue. Take me away, cockroach hearse driver. Before I get second thoughts.

6:00 PM RAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURE IS COMING. C:

6:30 PM Everything. Everything. Everything. In its right place. In its right place. In its right place.

(New journal. I won't tell you every time this happens.)

6:34 PM I found this journal here on the roadside. All the previous pages have been torn out. Works for me! I can’t find my old journal, though. I think I left it in that car. I think Cockroach Jesus has got it. I got the door open, by the way. Turns out I just wasn’t pushing hard enough. So I just dived out. Don’t think he noticed. ..wait, I left Tiger Stripes in the hearse didn’t I

6:36 PM Walking along the road. I can still hear Sunsetters playing.

6:40 PM Oh god, it's the hearse coming back for me RUN

6:43 PM I’m hiding behind a tree. I went as deep into the forest as I thought I had to. Branches hurt. I don’t know if I’m still being chased or not.

6:44 PM RAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERWAJIJFJF RUN

6:50 PM MOTHERFUCKER GOT OUT OF THE HEARSE AND IS STILL CHASING ME

6:53 PM Oh god, I’m getting tired of running. REALLY tired. I’m waiting here, behind this tree. Catching my breath. Is he still there?

7:00 PM I’m at the roadside. Made it to the roadside. …oh, hello, empty hearse.

7:01 PM Uh.. I think we’ve hit a problem. I don’t know how to drive. …fuck it, that’ll just make it more fun.

7:02 PM I just hit someone oh my god I’m so sorry oh never mind it was just Cockroach Jesus see ya

7:15 PM I’m surprised that I haven’t crashed yet. I’m also surprised that this forest is still going. This place is huge. And the road rarely turns; I’ve just been driving straight all this time.

7:19 PM I turned the radio on, expecting more Sunsetters. I got Genesis. And, of all things, I got Genesis's first album. The one album that sucks. Fucking Christians.

7:29 PM Hello, light at the end of the forest. Where are we noh my god. A small town. Filled with naked green people? They’re all staring at me. ..I’m.. I’m gonna get out of the car. Tentatively.

7:38 PM The townsfolk are really nice. They took me in, took me to a restaurant, and are getting me some food. .w.;;

7:40 PM The waitress’ fingers were little trees.

7:43 PM This sausage roll is delicious, but the drink goes right through me. Brb!

7:45 PM Keep running.

7:46 PM Okay, I thought about it, and I have no idea why the hell I wrote “brb” on hang on who wrote that?

7:47 PM The townsfolk are all staring at me again. I’m going to take my own journal’s advice. I’m going to get out of here. I’m going to take this sausage roll with me, and then I’m going to get out of here. Where’s my car?

7:50 PM All the townspeople are gathered in their little buildings. They’re all standing at the windows, staring at me.

7:51 PM Seriously, where is my car, this place is giving me the creeps.

7:52 PM There are some people on the roofs. They’re all staring at me. The sky is turNING BLACK FUCK FUCK OW WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY FEET JUMP JUMP SMASHED WINDOW MOVE CAR DRIVE

8:00 PM Okay. I think I’ve driven far enough. I think I’m safe. That.. is not an easy thing to describe. It felt like the ground was drilling upwards into my feet, so I jumped, I smashed a window open, I fucking found my hearse, and I drove off into the sunset. ..well, it’s not a sunset. It’s just.. dark red.

8:15 PM I finally hit clear of the forest. ..the open sky is scattered with giant.. bats? Flying around in the red skies. Cawing. Hasn’t Rapture ended yet? It’s well past six o’ clock! That's when it was said to end! Wait. The guy who announced the end of the world lives in Florida. It doesn’t get six there until.. another three hours! Long night...

8:35 PM I’ve been driving for miles. Not a town nor a soul in sight. Occasionally, I’ll see a crashed car or a dead body, but I don’t stop. Y’know, I don’t think I’ve even seen a road sign in forever.

8:42 PM Road sign ahead. “Hell, 20 miles. Ashford, 40 miles. Sunbury, 43 miles.”

8:56 PM Hell’s coming up in a couple minutes. Everything looks fine so far, considering.

9:99 PM That’s what the car’s clock says. I think I’m in Hell now. ….oh, “999,” “666,” very clever. Funny. I don’t see any town nearOH DEAR GOD THERE’S A TARANTULA ON THE DASHBOARD RUN GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR THE DOOR’S LOCKED OH GOD Well, it’s just sitting there. On the dashboard. Is it aliOHGOD IT TURNED AROUND OHHHH GOD I CAN SEE ITS EYES IT’S SO CREEPY OH MY GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK TURN AROUND AGAIN PLEASEThank you. ..uh.. what’s your name? ..it said “Ben.” Well, uh.. hi, Ben. Wanna sit in the passenger seat for me? Thank you.

The clock still says 9:99 PM. Ben, you know where we are? ..”Hell.” Gee, thanks for that.

I’m sure a couple of minutes have passed. Still says 9:99 PM. Say, Ben. Your voice sounds awfully familiar. You sound like a childhood friend. ..he says he is a childhood friend. o___o I asked him how he became a bug, but he didn’t speak. …how’d you become a bug? There we go, he responds to my writing it. ..for some reason. He says it came with the Rapture. But the Rapture won’t start ‘til 11! …okay, he corrected himself. It came with the day of Rapture. Right, that makes sense. ..how the fuck did you get to England? ..you don’t know either? Huh. Small world.

Clock’s still 9:99 PM. We’ve hit a town. Is this Ashford? No, this is still Hell. Right. Y’know, besides the whole tarantula thing, Hell ain’t that bEAR BEAR BEAR BEAR BEAR BEAR BEAR BEAR DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE OHHH GOD WE’RE OUT OF GAS MAKE A RUN FOR IT BEN BEN? BEN?! …Ben’s being torn apart by the bear. Oh god, it’s tearing every limb apart. Ooh, the inside of the car is covered in tarantula blood. Oh god, that’s gruesome. …I should probably run.

The clocks around the town all say 9:99 PM. I stopped inside a library. The bear seems to be… transforming into a giant man. I’m going to call it the Eldritch Bear. Probably not to its face. ..faces?

The clocks are still frozen at 9:99 PM. The Eldritch Bear is chargING AT THE LIBRARY OH FUCK GLASS EVERYWHERE OH GOD IT’S IN MY LEG OW THE ELDRITCH BEAR IS STOMPING I CAN FEEL IT STOMPING OH GOD I CAN’T LOOK

10:02 PM I was saved. No, not like “Rapture” saved. I mean some guy came along and saved my ass. Like a deus ex machina. He was a man in a red jacket. Pale skin. Buzzcut and creepy green eyes. I looked up from where I was lying, and the Eldritch Bear was gone. Instead, the creepy man was there. The clock says something not stupid now. Rapture is in an hour. I’d best start walking if I want to make it back home. ..after I get the glass out of my leg.

10:08 PM Leg still hurts, but I’m out of Hell! Now I’m just walking along the road. Is it too much to hope for hitchhikers?

10:12 PM I can’t believe it. A car came along. A car. They let me on and now we’re driving. Fuck yeah, hope!

10:19 PM I got to know the other survivors. There’s Chuck Berry, Rodney Dangerfield, Bill Maher, and Sandra Bullock. …so, it's a bunch of adults with code names. They said they're with the government. They don’t know how all this shit started happening, but they know about the Florida guy too-- Harold Camping is his name!-- and so they're also bracing themselves for 11.

10:21 PM We’re passing through Ashford now. Sunbury’s next. My home is next. God, there are so many zombies out there.

10:24 PM OH DEAR FUCK

10:26 PM IT JUST HIT ME WITH A POT NOODLE

10:31 PM FUCKING NO SANDRA

10:35 PM Oh my gidding goddamn god.

10:36 PM It was a Big One. Colossal head-and-torso, those things. It was a motherfucking.. one of those. It stepped into the road in front of us and stared us right in the eyes with its lack thereof. The others fled the car immediately, so I did too. And it chased me. Sandra.. distracted it for me. >_< So I could get away. Now I’m hiding out in a butcher shop.

10:39 PM I think it’s gone. Let me check. Yes, it’s gone.

10:40 PM THAT BUTCHER SHOP WAS FILLED WITH HUMAN HEADS

10:43 PM SUNBURY, I made it. I made it. Okay, I’m close to home now. If this all gonna end, like, actually end, then I want to die at the only place in England I know.

10:48 PM My time’s running out. Fuck. I’m not nearly close enough. I’m gonna start running.

10:55 PM Oh god, it hurts to run, my leg.

10:58 PM And with my dying breath, I heave a sigh of relief that at least I didn’t die without fucking Sandra Bullock.

10:59 PM …..fuck, okay, that was such a cheap lie.

11:00 PM RAPTURERAPTURERAPTURERAPTUREOUCH Fuck, that hurt. ..wait, what? Tiger Stripes! TIGER STRIPES! YOU CAME BACK TO ME! :D And hit me in the head! Please don’t do that ever again, ohhh my favourite X-Plorer, I missed youuuuuuu, ahahaha! 11:01 PM ..but.. where’d you fall from? The sky? ..the sky is still red. and nice and empty. I’m getting close to home.

11:09 PM Okay, I’ve made it to my neighbourhood. We’re pretty much home free, Tiger Stripes. I think we can take this part slowly.

11:10 PM Y’know, for a total Rapture, End-Of-The-World scenario, this isn’t half-bad. If I can keep up this luck, and see some more incredible sights, I could get used to this. With time.

11:11 PM Okay, I know it’s actually 23:11 and all, but I’m gonna make a wish anyway: I wish I had a girlfriend. Could you imagine that? The world might end with me remainingOh hey, my house is around the corner. House is close, house is close, soon can sleep and forget for a while oh house is close Just gotta step around the corner and up to the front door, turn the knob and open the dFUCKING RAKE DOOR SLAMMED SHUT SO THAT WAS DEFINITELY NOT A SPIDERCAT AND WAS DEFINITELY A RAKE-Y THING. HEART REFUSES TO SHUT THE FUCK UP I can hear it snarling and slashing the furniture in there Crawling on all fours, pale and hairless and rubbing up on the walls and couches Face totally stupid I’m not gonna be kicked out of my own house like this I am going to get in there and doooooo something It’s just you and me, Rake. ohgod Tiger Stripes? Give me strength. >_o

11:17 PM HAHA okay fuck gotta board up this window asap

11:48 PM All the deeds are done. I’m in bed. Journal, I don’t know how to say this, but Tiger Stripes must be made of something way tougher than plastic. I sneaked inside, kicked over a flower vase, the Rake turns and sees me, I look into its deadlights or whatever the fuck, the Rake freaking growls up a storm and I get unsteady, and it pounces at me and I just.. I guess it was that kind of primal response? A fast swing of a blunt object, in this case a guitar controller. Crunch. That part was unmistakable. There was a definite crunch. At first I thought it was the sound of Tiger Stripes breaking in half, but.. well, it didn’t. Instead, I pretty much just blinked and then next thing I know I’m standing over a dead Rake with a mangled spine. And I’m outside my house, I’d ran outside to get closer, I dunno, 'cause see I smacked the Rake so hard that it soared out the living room window! All I could think to do was laugh. How in the name of the ever sweet goddess of science did I do that? Riddle me this, journal! ..either way, I’m keeping that freaking guitar.

(Attached to the end of that day’s journal, and in fact to the end of every remaining log here, is a piece of paper with someone else’s handwriting written on it. These were all presumably written much later. This piece of paper reads: "I don't sleep anymore; there's too much work to do. I sit here in my grand library, going over the records of the apocalypse, in search of the patterns and the sense. In such seeking, and much keeping, there is a part of salvation. And this world needs saving, no doubt about that. This log of Jordan's caught my attention for the words he thinks he dreamt. As he fell through the streets of that other world, he wrote down the rhythm that we all came to know. He never realized, as he never had the chance to read that journal again, but if he had realized, would it have changed anything? I doubt it. I similarly doubt we ever figured out exactly why some of the first monsters seemed to have come straight from the internet, but the only time I properly met the Tour Guide– the two of us electing to have coffee and talk about our experiences– I recall her offering an interesting theory on the matter. She said that maybe the apocalypse began with concepts we had created so that it could have a base from which to expand and develop newer monsters and scenarios– many of which, of course, shared significant similarities with manmade ideas– but that either way it needed to start with a base. This theory, of course, assumes that the apocalypse and the figures behind it, or the concepts, or who knows what, basically this assumes that all the bad things have a point to them. Plus the theory sounds an awful lot like the progression of the Camper, but that’s a digression for later.”)

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[shamelesskimchifiend]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫

So just because I'm running out of ideas on what to post and would rather die than be one of those accounts you thought you could rely on for fic recs but then suddenly goes inactive for 7 years which then causes irreversible trust issues for any idiot who thought it would be a good idea to trust anything to do with me, I'm gonna say a bit about my favourite authors and their best fics.

And yes, I had two shots of espresso so I no longer need fullstops in my grammar, they hold me back.

And no, I did not just use a fullstop.

Also I'm not doing summaries cause Fuck That.

And my definition of a one shot is just like less 30 pages or less not actually one chapter yknow?

lalazee

Okay so my baby girl lala is such an amazing writer and in my opinion captures bkdks dynamic the best of all the fics I’ve read. She somehow writes gripping plots, leg opening smut and the most hilarious banter. Her character construction is incredible. Effortlessly funny and she clearly knows how to write. Her shit needs to be published. #sheismyfavouriteauthorandiwanttotattoohernameonmyface

Quiet Rapture (300k - a/b/o - E)

Blood Moon (100k - Canon divergence - E)

Crybaby (50k - Pro heroes AU - E)

Hopeless Ramen-tic (One shot - Canon divergence - E)

Don’t Watch Your Friends’ Sex Tapes and Other Life Lessons (One shot - Pro heroes AU - E)

Thirsty Gay Wingman Fic (One shot - College AU - E)

EtherealBeing

Just writes good shit. Icebreaker is peak, I would like to sign a petition to get it continued.

Icebreaker (One shot - No quirks AU - E) discontinued

Fire Lily (300k - Heaven & Hell AU - E)

Bluebird (50k - No quirks AU - E)

roadtripwithlucifer

Okay now where to go with this. Rtwl has always been a more intense read. Especially brothers keeper it felt a bit…bitter. But not in the way it lacked plot but the author is so talented they always manage to evoke emotions out of me. I think this author wins really good story progression but then again all these authors write incredible plots. Their stuff usually feels more intense, maybe even gritty, but don't trust me on that because I honestly don't even know what it means :)

Battle of the Bands (170k - Boy Band AU - M)

Intersecting Lines (120k - Canon divergence - E)

My Brothers Keeper (80k - College AU - E)

warschach

warschach definitely has a very distinct way of writing bkdk. I feel like their depiction of bkdk is a little more playful or lighthearted than the stuff with rtwl or lalazee but still constructs great plot and effortless humor. I don’t really know how to put it in words but bakugou especially feels a little more awkward and a little more modernised in their stuff. Yes modernised is the best way to describe it. So basically all the ‘extremities’ of his personality are toned down a little and his character kind of adopts the traits of your typical swag high schooler.

K-9 (20k - Shapeshifters AU - E)

F.U. (15k - College AU - E)

Chewed Up (30k - Zombie apocalypse AU - E)

Pinup (One shot - College AU - E)

Black Light/Passenger Seat (One shot - In UA - T/E)

If ya wanna know more about a fic half of these I've gone into more detail about in other posts

[friendzoned61]

Do you have any specific hc that you imagine for the convict ?

Idk if it’s like a Headcannon but the convict, i see as like a scientist. I think all of the Eden members that participated in the attack were all mostly scientists. Because it was a colony! If you send people up to space to establish a new civilization, you want to not send some random Joe, you wanna send Jeff the bioengineer or bob the ME. and members of the COI aren’t a colony, they’re what’s left of humanity after the rapture. More scientists. I’m kinda rusty on lore but all these stations for the COI I think were gathering data and materials and more for earth so they probably had a ton of supplies both food and resource wise and in comparison to Eden, a colony that may have had more limited communication with earth due to distance and shit and, again I’m rusty, we don’t know how long that colony was established. Looking up the wiki I got there’s 480 people up there, so they’re probably either just getting established and they sent a shit ton of scientists to start priming mars for a larger population or they’re maybe a generation in. And if your home planet goes no contact and you try to reach out to the only space stations that might have a reason why-and like I watched the Martian what if there was some disaster that meant a food scarcity, or maybe they just needed more materials to keep expanding and providing for life there- AND THEY JUST GO DUDE IDK? EARTHS GONE? I’d get a little pissed and I’d say hey dude can you help us out then? We have like no way to like consistently gain building materials without earth and maybe the station was greedy! Like no! We’re our own governing system now and our first rule is FUCK YOU! I’d raid them if I was desperate! But hey we’re a fuck ton of scientists and yeah we’re got enough to withstand space travel and to adapt to the gravitational pull of mars and to keep expanding, but we’re not on our turf and shit I’m captured ahhhh.

Um. So all this to say, yeah I think both the convict and the player are scientists and uhhhh their punishment for their desperation is forced exploration of the unknown. :)

[jatersade]

i'm tired of wearing glasses (i just wanna lie sideways on my bed to watch my tv shows) and all your answers are convincing me of having them prescribed next month when i have my appointment. any other advantages to further convince me? <3

YES YES ABSOLUTELY LET ME CONVERT YOU!! Ultimately, the best thing about contacts (in my opinion) is that 99.9% of the time you don’t even have to think about them because they make it feel like you don’t need any help seeing at all. You put in the contacts and then forget about them until bedtime. It’s about keeping it LOW-MAINTENANCE baby!!

For a more in depth understanding of why I think contacts are by far the superior visual aid device, see below the cut (bc I’m apparently just so passionate about the wonders of contacts that this got way too long lmao)

Comfort: As you mentioned in your ask, glasses greatly limit your maneuverability, especially (but not only) when it comes to finding a comfy spot to lie down in:( Contrast this with contacts, which come with no such hindrances!!! I've seen some people say they find contacts uncomfortable, but you should not feel your contacts at all while you're wearing them!! The first time I tried on contacts at my optometrist's office I said "I can feel these in my eyes, I don’t really like it." and my optometrist said "oh ok try these on instead" and gave me a thinner brand that I could not feel even a little bit once I put them in. Like I put the first one in and then wondered if I had accidentally dropped it on the ground because I couldn’t feel anything. I did once have to wear the thicker contacts for like a week because I couldn't get my actual brand, and I stopped feeling them after a day or two, so even if your contacts start out uncomfortable, you can get used to them if thinner contacts are for some reason not an option.

Compare that to glasses, which can slip and slide up and down your nose, which need to be constantly readjusted, which can fall off completely, which can get sweaty and greasy, which can dig into the tops of your ears and your temples even when you’re not laying on them funny, which leave indents on your skin if you wear them for too long. Maybe not a big deal to some people, but still a completely unnecessary irritant.

Visibility: No fogging up. No finger prints. No streaks. No scratches or dirt or cracks. No rain or water droplets impeding your vision. NO GLARE WHEN YOU'RE LOOKING AT A SCREEN. Have you ever cried while wearing both glasses and mascara? I have. That mascara will run and every time you blink your lashes will act like a little paintbrush, coating the inside of your lens with black gunk and if you let it dry there, good fucking luck!! That shit will be there until fucking rapture day!!!! Contacts move with your eye, so your peripheral vision is just as clear as the stuff directly in front of you. Also, contacts are more precise, so you’re actually getting a better fitting prescription, too.

Utility: I always wanted contacts, but I only convinced my parents to let me start wearing them instead of glasses when I told them it would be too hard for me to play softball with glasses on (which I was right about by the way). You're never going to get rid of your contacts by moving too quickly or shaking your head too hard. Freedom of movement baby!!! You're never going to have to worry about them falling off on a rollercoaster or losing them at the club or getting them knocked off in a mosh pit. I don't know what glasses people with vision as bad as mine do when they want to go swimming, but I imagine there's some kind of sacrifice involved. You don't really have to worry about losing contacts because you don't really take them off when you're not at home, and if you DO lose one, it's not the end of the world the way losing glasses is!! You're not out potentially hundreds of dollars and blind for a few days or weeks until you can get a replacement! You can just go put in a new one! Easy as pie, baby.

Aesthetic: Look this one is entirely according to taste, but I have to say that overall I prefer no glasses on myself, and that would probably be true even if not for the comfort and utility of contacts, which I discussed above.

Some people look hot in glasses. I have been told that I look very good in glasses myself. But I personally don’t think they look good enough on anyone for all the sacrifices that come with wearing glasses to be worth it.

Also, even though I do look good in my glasses, I find them so limiting. One pair of glasses can control your entire aesthetic, which is fine if you’re one of those tiktok teenyboppers devoting themselves to chartreuse academia or whatever the hot new trend is, but I personally like to shake it up. we will never know true expressive freedom until we’ve freed ourselves from the shackles of dedication to a single trend. don’t let your look be chained by glasses. liberate yourself. get contacts instead. they’ll never clash with anything!!

I also think sunglasses fall into the aesthetic category? And the only real thing I have to say here is that you can’t fucking wear sunglasses if you have glasses!! Which is a shame because there are so many pairs of cute sunglasses out there!! And also sunny hurty my eyes:( yeah you can put a pair over your regular glasses I guess if you want to be uncomfortable and look like a goober. But you could also just get contacts. You could get transition lenses, but those take time to build up and release the tint, which isn’t useful if you’re constantly moving between inside and outside, and you still have the problem of that single pair of glasses dictating your entire look.

Makeup Problems: you might not wear makeup, and this might also fall into the aesthetic category, but whatever. I’ve already talked about how glasses can cause issues with mascara, but it fucks with face makeup too!! Mine always rubbed off any foundation I had on the bridge of my nose, and the bottom of the frame did the same where it brushed the tops of my cheeks! Fucking despicable!!! I’m a smudgy little mess after an hour and no amount of setting powder or spray can help with that! Also you obviously can’t do makeup with glasses on, but if your vision is as bad as mine it can get pretty difficult to do it with glasses off too. We’re talking nose pressed to the mirror trying to see what I’m doing. ALSO if you wanna do some cool eye makeup that’s awesome, but your glasses WILL take away from the overall look, which sucks if it’s something you put any effort into. With contacts, however, you will run into exactly zero of these problems!!! Exciting!!

anyways that’s all I can think of right now but I hope this helps. contacts are like a girlfriend to me. and I love her so much <3

[cryptometaphor]

(Discussing le'religion and it's place in politics because armchair communists can't decide on shit)

Admin whose name is also Sarah but imma just call her Arab: Marx said religion is the opiate of the masses.

Me: Y'all always leave out the part where he says the sigh of the oppressed immediately afterwards.

Sarah: Are you saying we should pity religious conservatives like how you pity incels?

Me: Perhaps... But it's more than that. It is the natural state of man to seek God. Sometimes man finds Him, sometimes he doesn't. He'll either cope, seethe, or dilate. As with all things.

Sarah: LOL WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

Arab: I'm seething. I'm not gonna feel sorry for people who wanna restrict contraceptives and ignore working class...

Me: That's not why people seek religion. That's people groomed into another ism.

Arab: It's religion. Yes. Ideology and religion are interchangeable, but like...

Me: Lemme ask you. What would you do if YOU were God?

Arab: What do you mean?

Me: Like Bruce Almighty. Morgan Freeman says ok Persian cat lady, you're God. Now what?

Arab: Kinda racist.

Sarah: Good question though. I mean obviously I'd do the necessary stuff first. Reverse climate change.

Me: How?

Sarah: Oh wow, you're actually applying some debate pressure on me instead of buttering me up? lol

Me: No I mean I'd like details of what that would entail. I can butter you up afterwards lol

Sarah: lol ok. I mean like... Well for one, repair the ozone layer. The temperature drops back down, uhh... Reconfigure how carbon dioxide operates so we can run on coal and oil without it hurting the planet.

Me: The planet don't give a shit either way. We do. I mean maybe a lot of animals do too... So basically in a roundabout way. You want justice for the living.

Sarah: I suppose.

Arab: That has fuck all to do with justice. You're just using nice words and pretty thought experiments to deflect from the fact that...

Me: So than what would you do Ham-ass?

Arab: Ok that was SUPER RACIST am I gonna have to kick you?

Me: You could just out debate me. Sarah over here is making the world a better place as God. She just solved climate change, made our most monopolized source of energy go green... Go on. Impress me.

Me: Which btw, under the pretext of communism this makes the job ten times worse.

Sarah: How so?

Me: You've just given the bourgeois of coal and oil to produce indefinitely. Assuming they don't fuck it up somehow, now they'll really control the means of production.

Arab: Actually that is true.

Sarah: WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON LOL

Me Bale voice: I'm on the side of justice...

Sarah: Sure you are lol

Arab: Ok fine, I Thanos snap all the rapists off the planet. How's that? Snap, poof, they turn to dust.

Sarah: Based

Me: Is it?

Arab: OH GOD HERE WE GO SOME MANSPLAINING

Me: Yeah I mean, by what merit of rape? What you consider to be rape I hope. Not like, reddit...

Arab: I mean rape rape. Not creepy behavior LIKE YOU DO I mean actual assault. I'm being literal, I'm helping women everywhere, bad people gone.

Me: Sure sure... The families of those rapists are gonna be sad doh.

Arab: Oh well.

Me: The sudden departure of so many lives without even a rational explanation, they all just disappeared means more people are gonna become religious too.

Axel: Is this a thought experiment or did you just start a dungeons and dragons campaign and being a dick DM?

Arab: No, he's right. But see... That's why religion especially Christianity sucks. You see a miracle happen before your eyes, so like... Stop making child brides and assaulting women.

Me: Well you're gonna have to make things more abundantly clear for people than. If you just snap your fingers and they disappear, that sounds like a Rapture. Gonna be 4chan rape-cults in your name.

Sarah: Also based.

Arab: Shut up Sarah lol. But ok fine, they scream in agony as they disappear. I make it perfectly clear you do this thing, bad shit gonna happen to you.

Me: And you don't think people will still misinterpret it? Like we know clearly how you defined rape. But reddit does not. More redditors, yaaaay. Now their dumbass hot takes are laws and shit.

Arab: Oh well

Sarah: You suck as a god lol

Arab: YOU SUCK lol

Axel: This is why women can't have power

Both of them: Fuck you Axel

Arab: What would you do smart guy?

Me: I...

Arab: If it involves Sarah I will kick you right now lol

Me: Darn you, ok let me think for a moment lol

Arab: FUCKING HELL

Sarah: Based. Arab: Stop saying based. Sarah: Make me

(gets kicked)

Me: Ok that's where I'd start.

Arab: What? Me: Well add her back first.

Arab: She can rejoin, I was just being a bitch lol

Me: Something so innoculous as when someone goes to kick someone from a call or a mod goes to ban someone, a sharp and noticable pain pierces through their head. Enough to notice it's in this particular action.

Arab: That sounds incredibly vague and useless

Axel: So pretty much everything Jim says anyway

Arab: Basically

Me: Y'all think too small. This subtle nudge changes how we interact. Doesn't mean no one would ever moderate, but deep down they'd know it's wrong, it comes with consequences, undoubtedly people would do it anyway. As they do any awful thing.

Axel: Isn't that life now?

Me: It is... And that's why people seek God. Seek to know God, be God. Not huff the opiate of the masses praising God for miracles that cannot be confirmed or denied like Sarah's actions, not a sigh of the oppressed like Arab Sara's where we establish lore, trying to justify to ourselves God's existence. Undoubtedly if Arab Sara's Thanos snap thing was permanent, over centuries what is God's will would just become scientific fact and they'd use efforts and coping to justify how science makes it possible. Nietzsche even said science would replace religion.

Arab: So instead you just choose not to care. Typical liberal

Me: We're all acting in accordance to selfish desires all the time. Deep down nobody can know how we truly feel but ourselves. The pain and joy alike is a mystery, does God regret? Does God celebrate? Can we measure perfection at all in such imperfect conditions? Or can we only determine what's better for our sake?

Sarah: So solipsism.

Arab: Narcissism.

Me: People are inherently irrational agents and do awful and dumb things. The competing interests of our will, our instinct, and our greater good. Three as one trying to operate here and now.

Axel: Yeah, you could interpret Freud's ego, Id, and super-ego as the trinity

Sarah: So is that why Buddhism says to experience ego death? To essentially resurrect it as a new self?

Me: See, now you're getting into Kabalah and Neville Goddard.

Arab: I could've gone my whole life without you ever mentioning that name again lol

Me: Only when the three selves agree can we ever experience goodness.

Sarah: As a rational agent, I do wonder what the implications of some rash decision like ending global warming would ensare

Me: Hence the conflict. The man is conflicted with the spirit.

Axel: Wouldn't the Id be your man as the flesh and impulses of your genetics?

Me: I'll give you that. Id can be man, but the mind is soul. It's how we know ourselves and navigate, but the spirit, the reason we do anything, is above words for the soul or comprehension of the body. Albeit most often your instincts are correct. Your body's top priority is to keep you alive. Whether or not it can guide you to happiness and fulfilment is up for debate. Even if it could, we are not that in-tune.

Arab: Ok but what does any of this have to do with religion making people into magatards?

Me: Everything. Religion isn't getting in touch with God. Rarely do I see someone open up a Bible and say "how does this benefit me"? Typically when that happens, someone is backed into a corner from a life or death experience.

Sarah: That is true.

Arab: Well all this yapping does not justify Christians acting the way they do and imposing their will on others.

Me: You're still not getting it... YOU'RE the Christian.

Arab: Nunh-unh lol

Sarah: Jim literally doing the homer meme in a robe smoking a cigar "everyone is stupid except me..."

Me: Yeth. I mean, you're not stupid either.

Sarah: BULLSHIT I can hear it now. You're thinking in your head "she's a total retard, but she's cute, HEHEHEHEHE I'M DOING MY MR. KRABS VOICE she has no idea I think she's retarded SPONGEBOB AXEL ME BOY you're retarded too..."

(everyone laughs, that actually reels in donations)

[agp]

happy birthday shann ali have a poutine with me i bet we could get ceasefires in ukraine and palestine by the end of the week. someone find my ex i bet shes still on here with the fire emblem crowd lucina is my fucking life story that my mom keeps interfering with. my mom is robin and lissa is with the parents. and ali wont listen. she showed me tumblr and i showed her how tumblr really works. the end of the world is here and i bet shes the second coming. the odds are significant on alison. and the other alys too. i have exes from the future im trying to be chill about. like i said lucina is my problem.

my mother committed suicide 15 years ago on april fools (ikr). shes funny this one. she would disappear with the military for 15 years like this to get me to wake up. or find whoever i need to find. stop trying to bring about the rapture everyone whats your problem with judaism and islam? i wanna convert to islam!

my problem is i learned to hide from the best. harry potter is stealing from fred hampton and anne frank over here. we had our order of the phoenix at afnorth without another of the nato brats under the giant stairwell long before rowling was writing about it. idk if she was friends with my mom.

i couldnt journal my life because i knew they would steal that shit and publish that shit. but ali showed me tumblr and i got to journal a little on here and what do you know im still an amateur journalist on tumblr

so omfg when i tell the people making official lists of whos out as what on this hellsite i blow a fucking fuse so hard burkie is answering me back in ten minutes on sunday night. i swear i forgot about his son im just a flames fan who needs the cup in toronto by 2028 and in gaza this fucking summer already. hell bring it to the donbass region too if thats what these assholes want so much. bring hockey back this summer and meet on the ice and the pavement instead of having fun being martyrs with guns tickling the other bear on the other side

austin matthews and aly spaltro are both from arizona and neither of them believe we can bring hockey to palestine. they dont believe in hockey in the desert these two coyotes!! go listen to mitski and pete seeger already. one plays for the leafs and the other probably doesnt even watch the new womens league. its all on youtube!

so maman. line fontaine. fernando. whatever she goes by now. she was making a journal of my life without my consent. idk if she killed herself out of shame at any point but i believe she went into hiding with the government so she could keep her time travelers journal close to her chest and out of other peoples hands. this isnt cool at all mom anne frank is fucking fuming dude you have no idea. good thing im not her and i love my mom. she thinks shes doing us favours by getting our story straight on her end. this jesus bastard needs to wake up on my middle name marie already and stop playing it backwards

maybe it was my mom all along. maybe it was my ex alison. maybe it was my cat. maybe thats what the national were talking about in montreal before they played i need my girl. theyre such pricks and they couldnt stfu about oedipus at the concert ok fine my mom probably wants to fuck my ass and were all adults here and its awkward

you know how it is im trying to avoid her and her favourites and that means everyone :/

[ummahhhuhhh]

I wanna be crazy I wanna lose my shit I wanna be manic without the panic I wanna blow up I wanna become a star I wanna be God I'm already God

I want to rip my organs out see what I'm made of I want to bring myself back to life I want to fucking kill myself I want to bleed just everywhere

I want to bash my brains into the wall I want to feel rapture I want to go to heaven on earth I'm already close

I want to be high all the time with or without drugs I want to be absolute bliss; euphoria.

[munsster]

Heyy

I love your writing and I am currently trying to see more Jonathan byers x reader stuff (cause I just love that man) so I know he's not on your masterlist but could I request like a one shot or headcannons (which ever you prefer) of Jonathan x gn!afab!reader getting high and making out?

getting high with jonathan

A/N: tell me why i completely forgot about his skrunkly ass. also sidenote he is 100% in both my nightmare blunt rotation & my ideal one. anyways thank u nonnie, you’re incredible ily & i hope i did ur request justice

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x GN!Reader

this boy sees you & is immediately like awooga hummina hummina bazooing, okay, it’s bad and he has to remind himself to thank argyle for introducing you

listen, argyle didn’t even want to bring you (he knew, he KNEW jonathan would be like moth to flame. he knew it)

but it still takes jonathan’s dumbass half an hour of being stoned to finally speak directly to you

he’s so goddamn nervous, even though he’s baked so good, he has not a single care in the world

he definitely gets giggly (and, let’s face it: horny) when he’s high no question

you get really bold

and you sidling up right next to him is not helping. like at all

stealing quick glances at you, his fingers brushing yours when you pass him the bong/joint/pipe, your pinky resting against his thigh when it’s set on yours

“argyle, you know your bong looks like those things you put up your—” “don’t. i know what you’re gonna say, seriously, dude, leave it alone” and you butt in like “oh my god, you’re right”

and the two of you end up collapsed against each other, fully cackling

yeah, argyle definitely regrets this

at one point, you end up in jonathan’s lap??? and he is NOT complaining at all

and you look so incredible, eyes wide, smiling at the cartoons playing on the tv

glancing back at jonathan every time you find one of the shitty jokes hysterical and you idiots giggling into each other

slumping back into your seat with your head on his shoulder and letting him put his hand on your thigh

“you ever think about…” “the queen of england? aliens? canada? it’s technically always after midnight, so gremlins doesn’t make any sense?”

and you just grin at him and slip your fingers between his with a soft squeeze like

“exactly. how did u know???”

he’s suddenly very warm and his hands get a little sweaty

but then you let go and bounce across the room to the stereo, flicking through his tapes and gasping when you press one into the little door and fiddle for a second

then ‘rock & roll’ by the velvet underground starts playing

and you hop up onto the coffee table, swaying to the music with your eyes closed (his heart is beating so fkn fast, why are you so angelic??????)

argyle just takes another hit and leans back, so over it like “you’re insane” but doesn’t rlly care

but jonathan is en-fucking-raptured, suddenly standing at attention

until you reach for his hand and he gives, relaxing a little when you hold his fingers and duck under in a (sort of) twirl

then you’re tugging on his forearm, trying to get him to join you and the mediator in him is like “c’mon, let’s get you down. it’s a lot better on the ground” “i’ll get down when i’m dead, byers!” “no—”

you convince him to dance with you up on the table only because you promised to come down after

his hands on your waist, your arms over his shoulders, foreheads together & swaying juuuuust a little

“not bad, johnny” + “nice hair, johnny byers” + “johnnnyyyyhh” + “i’m gonna make you a mixtape, johnny” + overall teasing him

he’s so sober, it’s not funny

your eyes are insane. like genuinely gorgeous, he’s never seen anything like them

he’s so focused on your breathing and your mouth moving any time you say something

you notice.

then argyle groans like “alright, brochachos, i’m getting pizza. when i get back, i don’t wanna see any of this shit. ten feet apart, i’m serious”

but you’re both hardcore tuned out

and also alone together

oh no! i hope nothing horny mischievous happens 🫣

just kidding

you jump down from the table and offer to help him down because he is, of course, a damsel in distress, you are, obviously, his knight in shining armor, let’s be real

but he just steps down and freefalls back onto the couch, smiling at you while you dance over to him

he lays his arms out across the back of the couch and you stand in front of him before he holds his hands out and you settle over his lap, his hands back on your waist

“so…” “yeah.” “okay”

then the front door opens and closes

and you cup his face and lean in, and he feels so weightless but you haven’t even kissed him yet

he sits up to meet you halfway, but you pull back with a shit-eating grin, and he flops back with a sigh while you laugh against his shoulder

“sorry” he mumbles and you lift your head and reach back to gold the back of his head SO gently he’s imploding

he will not survive with you looking at him all soft like that

&&&& you finally kiss him and it’s just a little peck so he’s dumbfounded for one (1) second before kissing you back

yeah, he’s definitely high

your lips are so soft, and he’s pretty sure those sounds are coming from you

you cradle his face so gently, swiping your thumb across his cheek, and he subconsciously does the same with your waist

this boy is a good kisser. genuinely.

and maybe it’s because he’s high, but he for sure knows what he’s doing

and you pull away for like five seconds just breathing kinda heavy, and he pushes your hair out of your face

and you lean back in, and this next one is soooooo slow and easy and smiley

you’re just running your hands through his hair

and his palms slide up your back to move you even closer

ughhhhhhhhhh so sweet

then argyle comes back, and you literally can’t bring your-high-selves to pull away until he walks in like “man, what did i say?”

and you scramble out of jonathan’s lap while he’s shifting in his spot & wiping the spit from his mouth with his sleeve

for the rest of the afternoon, you’re smiling at each other and chuckling about it

bonus:

you accidentally run into will on your way out, reeking of weed, but it’s okay because you give him a fist bump and call him “tiger”

you’re probably one of the coolest people he’s ever met

he tells his mom. joyce figures out jonathan likes you. joyce loves you once you meet her.

after that, you come over every week to get high with jonathan

neither of you tell argyle

masterlist

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Chapter 1

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of sex, 18+,hitting, sad shit, break up, heart break, angst, cursing

Chapter Summary: reader and Lee breakup.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 //Chapter 3

The world felt as if it were shattering around you, crumbling beneath your feet like the rapture was upon you. Honestly, if the world did come to an end right now you’d be elated. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with your broken heart anymore.

You sat against a wall in your room, wallowing in your own self petty. It’d be three days since Lee Bodecker had broken things off with you. He had said that you were hurting his campaign, that he still loved you but needed a woman of power to help him become sheriff of this godforsaken town.

Lee had taken you out in the same field he took you to every time y’all made love. He kissed you so passionately, held you so closely. If you weren’t so caught up in the way his hands felt against your bare skin, you would’ve noticed how distraught he was the entire time he made love to you. It was his way of saying goodbye before he actually said goodbye. After he’d broken up with you, you felt disgusting and violated.

You’d never felt like that with Lee. He was your deputy and sinner in disguise. He was your rock and your soft place to fall. When the tears finally fill, the most empty feeling you’d ever felt emerged in your gut. One day you thought you were gonna be Mrs. Lee Bodecker. You daydreamed constantly of your wedding day and sharing a bed with the man you loved for the rest of your life ‘til you were old and gray. To know now that dream will always remain a dream.. that’s what hurt the most.

After Lee drove you home, you sat in your room for three days straight, not even coming out for supper. Your momma tried to convince you to eat and it worked once on the second day, until you threw up right after.

She didn’t understand. She’d never been in love, not really. Not love like you and Lee had. People told y’all all the time how rare and beautiful your love for one another was and you agreed. Just looking back on those memories made you sick. You listened in awe of how beautiful your love was not knowing Lee would only break your heart days later.

Today was Sunday, the lord's day, and usually you never wanted to go to church, but today you really didn’t want to go. The whole town, including Lee and his new arm candy, would be there. It’s the first time you’d be seeing Lee since he dropped you off. It was too soon, especially since you knew he’d already moved on.

As you sat with your head between your knees, your momma barged through your bedroom door.

“Jesus, girl. Why aren’t you up and ready to go? Church starts in an hour and you aren’t gonna make me late again.” She stomped over to your closet and shuffled through your dresses.

“Momma.. I- I’m not ready. I can’t see… him with her. I just ain’t ready for that kinda humiliation.” You sighed, trying to reason with your Bible-thumpin momma.

“Oh, no. You’ve embarrassed me enough this week. Disappearin’ for three whole days over a boy? You’re pathetic. You know, back in my day, we didn’t get to sit around and sulk the days away. No. We had to carry on like everything was fine and that’s what you’re gonna do. Now, get dressed.” She threw you a dress, one of your favorites actually. It was a teal blue, babydoll dress that you usually saved for special occasions, but you weren’t feeling very special at the moment and now you were just pissed off.

You stood and came face-to-face with your momma, “I’m not going. You have no idea how I feel. You can’t. You’ve never felt love the way we had it, Momma. No one ever loved you or me the way I love Lee. You couldn’t possib-“

Just then you felt a sharp sting against your cheek as your momma slapped you across the face.

“Not. Another. Word. You will be dressed and waitin for me at the car in ten minutes. No poutin’ and no sulkin’ in the pews. I don’t wanna hear another word about that boy.” She turned to exit your room but turned around to give you one last dig to the heart, “And, honey, a man in love would never have done what he did to you. Remember that next time you wanna preach to me about love.” With that she left your room. Your cheek still stung from the unexpected hit to the face. Your momma was cruel but she’d never hit you before.

The slap, in a way, was kind of refreshing. For a split second you’d totally forgotten about Lee. Only for a second, though. His crystal blue eyes and cheshire lips never leave your thoughts completely. You shook your head in defeat, trying to erase him from your mind. It didn’t work, but you took a deep breath and began getting ready.

//

The church parking lot was full when you and your momma pulled in. Rickety old trucks to brand spankin new, brightly colored cars littered the dusty lot. You spotted Lee’s car immediately, thankfully he was already inside.

The whole town came to this church, which wasn’t that many people. Nevertheless, everybody knew everybody and, even if you didn’t care, everybody knew everybody’s dirty laundry. Old Man Karl got pulled over last week for a DUI, Nancy from the library cheated on her husband with his brother and.. oh yeah, Lee Bodecker dumped his long time girlfriend for the mayor's daughter.

Lee and yours breakup was the talk of the town. You were the fresh, new gossip in this boring as hell town and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You couldn’t get two steps into the church without being bombarded by women you didn’t want to know but also knew too much about, asking if you were alright and that they’d pray for you on this ‘beautiful, glorious Sunday morning’. Yeah, same shit different day, different person.

One woman stayed to chat with your momma, so you went to find your seat. Your usual spot was next to Lee and naturally that’s where you headed, only to be greeted by Lee and His new girlfriend, Laura-Jean Mancon. She was one of those girls who’d been pretty her whole life. Blind hair, blue eyes and a huge rack. Everybody thought she’d go into modeling or start an acting career but she never did. Instead, she stayed and was now going to marry Lee. In your eyes, that’s the best path she could’ve taken. You’d take her place any day.

“Mornin’ Y/n.” Lee cleared his throat, unable to make eye contact with you.

“L-“ You went to say his name but found you couldn’t. It was only one syllable, only three letters and it pained you to even think about, let alone say aloud. You cleared your throat, “Laura-Jean, nice to see you again.”

Laura-Jean said nothing in return. She just hummed, waiting for you to talk away.

“I guess I’ll go.. find me a new seat.” You took a deep breath when you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, again. Lee stared straight forward the whole time you stood there, too cowardly to even look you in the eyes. Some Sheriff he’ll be.

You scanned the crowd of people and found your momma in the front row, of course. You made your way up the aisle and took your seat next to her. The chorus sang their hems and the preacher clapped his way in on the last versus.

“How are we doin’ on this fine Sunday mornin’?” he drawled to the crowd. He got an assortment of greetings in return.

“I said ‘HOW ARE WE DOIN ON THIS BRIGHT N’ SHINY SUNDIE MORNIN’?’.”

“GOOD” the people shouted in return. You could hear Laura-Jean giggling over something but you wouldn’t dare look back. Lee always made church bearable, making wise cracks at the preaches expense.

“Now, today I’d like to talk a little bit about love. Of course, we’re always talkin’ about love when it comes to our lord and savor, Jesus Christ. But just for a moment, it ain’t about him. No. This mornin’ I’m preachin’ to you about young love.”

Here we go.

“It comes and goes so fast, but when you have it, it’s one of the most beautiful things this world can offer you.. especially when you put a little Jesus in it.” The church laughed. You knew where this was going. Your stomach churned as you sunk down into the pew.

“I’d like to ask the newly engaged folks in the crowd to come and join me up here. You know who you are, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Lee Bodecker.”

Your heart felt as if it were going to explode, a tear escaped through your lashes and you quickly wiped it away.

They walked up hand in hand, smiling for cheek to cheek. How could he be so happy, so calm after only being broken up for less than a week? Did he ever love you? Really love you. Like you loved him. Obviously not because you could never, in good conscience do this to him. You couldn’t stand on a stage wrapped arm in arm with another man while Lee sat, just as you were now, devastated and totally distraught.

“So tell us,” the preach beamed. “When’s the big day.”

Lee looked at you with a pained expression as Laura-Jean answered the preach.

“May 21st”

Your breathing heavies at the reply. Turning to your momma you whispered, “Momma, that’s in two weeks.”

“I know that. Now, hush.” She side eyed you with a full smile still pressed to her lips. Even your own mother didn’t seem to care about your feelings. You sat there, listening to Laura-Jean go on and on about their ‘big day’. Tears streamed down your face and you let them. You’d given up on trying to hide how hurt you really felt. When you looked up, Lee stared straight at you. He wasn’t crying but his pain ridden face told you everything. One look at him and you couldn’t breathe anymore. You stood abruptly, all eyes were on you and Laura-Jean had stopped talking.

“I- excuse me.” You said before booking it out the back door. Lee hollered out, asking you to wait. It was too late. You were half way out the door and couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second.

Your feet stomped against the grave, dust clouding up in your wake as you made your way to the road.

“Y/n!” Lee called out after you.

“Go away. I have nothing to say to you, L- fuck.” You cursed, trying desperately to get away from him.

“I said wait, goddammit.” He growled, capturing your bicep in his large hand.

“Let go of me!” You whined sounding out of breath.

“Not until you listened to what I have to say.”

“What, Lee? What could you possibly have to say?”

“I- I.. dammit. I know I put you in a tough position but-“

“A tough position?” You repeated.

“Let me finish.” He sighed and released your arm from his grasp, “I know I hurt you. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, but, doll, this is it. This is my only chance at becoming Sheriff. You know how hard I’ve worked to get here and you’ve always been so supportive of my dream. I- I just thought.. out of everyone you would understand.”

Your skin burned as you imagined smoke blowing from your ears. Did he really just say that? That you should understand the break up and go on with your life like nothing happened like he is? You stood there frozen, breathing heavier and heavier as your brain tried to come up with a coherent response while trying to also remain a lady.

“I- I still love you. You know that, right?” He asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and wiping a stray tear away.

You flinched at his burning touch and slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again. I don’t love you anymore. I can’t love you. Shit… seeing you was the best part of my day and now I can’t even look at you without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I can’t even say your name anymore. Everything about you, now, fills me with so much pain and dread. So if that’s what your love is, keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Doll,” A tear ran down his cheek, you now being the one who’s breaking his heart. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear.” He sniffles.

“Well, you did. I’m in so much pain.” You sobbed, “I’m in so much pain and I have no one to go to because you were my person. You have left me completely empty and utterly alone.”

“Y/n, I-“

“Save it, Bodecker. I’m done talking to you.”

Lee didn’t chase after you this time. He let the tears stream down his face as he watched you walk away. He was just as heartbroken as you but couldn’t show it., not when he was so close to winning this election. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and headed back towards the church. He knew you just needed time and that he’d still see you around town.

Seeing you today took his breath away. You wore your favorite dress that he bought you for your birthday so long ago. You didn’t have on any makeup, which he loved. You were so naturally beautiful and he did still love you with every piece of his shattered heart. He’d eventually come up with a plan to get you back, but for now he would respect your space.

//

Once you’d gotten home and shut the door, you couldn’t help but scream at the top of your lungs. Hoping for some sort of release from all this heartache you felt. Telling him you couldn’t love him was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You sat on the floor in the same position you were in before you left; head between your knees and sobbing like a baby.

There was no escaping him in this town. There was church and the grocery store and the diner you worked at part time. He was everywhere. He’d come in every morning you worked to have coffee with you. He had been a part of every little thing you do in your daily routine for as long as you can remember.

There was never a time you weren’t together. It was always just you and him. He was the one who held you when you were sad, but where was he now when you needed him most?

To you, there was only one way to fix this; get the hell out of here. Completely leave town and start anew somewhere else. You have an aunt that lives right outside of town. You can stay there until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you got up. Your aunt agreed to the plan and said you could stay with her for as long as you needed when you called her. You packed a small duffle bag and waited for her to pick you up.

When she did finally pull up out front, you hopped in the car and she drove off, leaving the dusty ole town you called home for so long. You took in a deep breath as you drove towards your new life. No Lee, no momma, no worries.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Comfy, my darling, I come requesting the delight that is Jaskier as Persephone! Please and thank you 🐺🌼

HAPPY FUCKIN BIRTHDAY BABE!!!!

Ily and i’m very glad we’re interweb friends!!!

Pomegranate Seeds

I took some heavy creative liberties here and twisted the myth a little bit for the sake of the vibes. Geralt is Hades, Jask is Persephone and that’s the only character crossover bc I wanna give them all my attention. There will be more too 🥰

Warnings: ...none? jask runs away? its greek but like we got rid of the shitty bits.

______________

Geralt seethed as he stalked up the winding path through the gardens of Mt. Olympus. He liked the underworld. It was his home, his realm, and more importantly, his brothers never ventured there without warning. He grumbled about the ‘fucking humans being needy and bothering him’ as he cut through an orchard.

As he neared the largest tree, he slowed his walk, feeling his irritation melt away little by little as he heard an entrancing voice floating from its upper branches. The song was sorrowful and filled with a simmering resentment Geralt had never heard anywhere but his own thoughts. He came to stop under the tree and leaned against its trunk, listening in rapture. 

When the voice went quiet, he spoke without thinking, “That was beautiful.”

There was a yelp and a couple cracking branches before a young god dropped almost gracefully to the ground, “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“Is it?” Geralt chuckled, still leaning against the tree and watching the god closely as he righted himself and brushed his soft brown hair out of his eyes, “I live with the dead. They don’t talk much.” 

“Oh?” there was a flirtatious glint to the younger god’s blue eyes before he finally put two and two together, “Oh! Oh no, you’re- shit- My apolog-”

“No need,” Geralt interrupted, “I intruded on your singing,” he hummed with a sly smile as he brushed past the confused god to amble along his path to the wretched meeting he was due at. 

“I- well, yes you did! Why?” the god seemed to get his wits about him as he jogged to catch up. 

Geralt shrugged, slowing his walk, “I… appreciate the lyrics.”

“I’m Jaskier. By the way,” the singer bounced along in front of Geralt, walking backwards as he chattered, “You appreciate my mourning the loss of my autonomy? That I am forever to be singing in a garden to make things grow just because of my mother?” 

“Demeter’s Jaskier?” Geralt frowned, knowing very well how Demeter liked to control her human pets. He couldn’t imagine how… well yes. He could imagine what kind of a controlling mother she would be. Gea had been no picnic after all. 

Jaskier wrinkled his nose and nodded. 

“You don’t want to sing?”

Jaskier spun on his heel and fell into step next to Geralt, “I love to sing. But I want to do it for me. Making it a duty sullies the… the…” he trailed off for a bit, staring at the blossoms and fruits in the trees with his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. Geralt found it unreasonably endearing and waited patiently for him to find the word.

“When I sing for myself it is cleansing. When I do it for others it feels disingenuous and wrong.” Jaskier decided. Clearly, he had been spending time with the muses. 

Geralt nodded, “You want more than what you’ve been offered here.”

“Yes!”

They had, to Geralt’s dismay, come to the edge of the orchard.

Geralt stopped and faced Jaskier, a slight upturn in his lips, “Maybe you should find what pleases you.”

Jaskier smiled like the glittering diamonds embedded in the walls of Geralt’s palace, nodding fervently as Geralt turned to go. Just before he was out of reach he heard the singer whisper, “I think I just did…” 

_

Geralt paid even less attention to the discussion than usual, his mind wandering back to Jaskier. He decided, as he glared at his brother boasting of his bastard child and that bull thing he’d made, that he would find Jaskier and… and what? He wanted to whisk him away to his realm and spoil him with fine jewels and the most delicate of silks. He wanted to hear that voice and see that brilliant smile everywhere he went. 

But that was selfish.

How could someone so full of life and ambition ever be happy in the underworld? He couldn’t possibly expect Jaskier to leave the color and warmth of the surface world behind for a shadowy cave system that barely qualified as Geralt’s palace. There would only be Geralt and the Furies for an audience, for the most part, and the only trees in his courtyards were haggard at best. No child of the harvest would flourish there. 

He left the way he’d come, hoping to find Jaskier in the orchard again, but he was long gone by the time all the other gods had aired their ‘concerns’. 

Weeks passed and Geralt found himself even more withdrawn than usual. 

His time was spent glaring down at his pathetic little courtyard with the one tree still bearing fruit. He had always been resentful to have been stuck below ground, where the humans feared him and the other gods judged him for having made a home. Bitching and moaning wouldn’t make anything better, so he played the hand he was dealt and enjoyed his solitude. But now? Now he was simply bubbling with rage. Had he been made god of the sea this wouldn’t be a problem. He would pick a comfortably private but not secluded inlet, build his lovely little singer a castle, and spend all their free days wandering the beach.

Not that he’d laid awake at night thinking about it. 

He dealt with his duties with a biting tongue and vicious sneer as he pondered what to do with himself. 

Nothing seemed to satisfy.

Finally, he made a decision. He would pay Jaskier a visit and ask to hear the song one last time. Just once before he promised to leave the lively singer alone. 

When he arrived at the gates to Mt. Olympus, he expected to have to search for Jaskeir or at least search out his voice.  

Jaskier, however, was furiously charging down the path, his angry scowl turning into a feral grin when he recognized Geralt, “Oh! Hello! This is perfect! I was just coming to find you!” 

Geralt blinked, “Find me? Where would I be but home?” 

“Here. Apparently,” Jaskeir pointed out, with raised eyebrows.

“I’m here to find you,” Geralt smiled, feeling something akin to hope soothing the loneliness that had nested in his chest. 

Jaskier positively beamed, “I have chosen to find what pleases me. And now that I’ve found you, I would be eternally happy if you absconded with me to your realm.” 

If he were nervous or hesitant in the slightest, Geralt couldn’t see it even as he looked for any hint in his features. 

“You want to come with me to the underworld?” Geralt frowned, not believing his ears.

“Sounds more fun when you say it my way,” Jaskier answered, rubbing at the back of his neck, that little bit of embarrassment and worry finally showing through his facade, “but yes. That is exactly what I want.”

“I have no gardens.”

“All the better.” 

“I would be your only audience.”

“You’re the only audience I’ve cared about since I met you,” Jaskier’s tone became defiant as he puffed up his chest just enough for Geralt to think he did it unintentionally.

Geralt let himself melt a little bit more with his every reply, “The sun doesn’t warm your face in my home.”

“Are your eyes not a brilliant golden warmth enough?”

Geralt blushed for the first time in centuries, “If it is truly what you want…”

Jaskier hesitantly stepped closer, staring Geralt right in the eye, “I want you.”

[haztory]

OK BUT THAT'S ME BEING AN IDIOT HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA drabble/sfw JAHAHHAHAHAHAH DAMN

““You better catch that fucking bouquet, babe. Our relationship is on the line!” + “You wanna go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?” with Bokuto for the loveliest Clara! from my writing event that is now closed!

warnings: adult langauge and that’s it!

a/n: i answered her previous ask for the quotes so i’m just posting the drabble here! thank you for your patience my love!!! i hope you like it <33333

bokuto koutarou x f!reader; (fluff, all the fluff and wedding shenanigans)

Bokuto loves weddings. They’re truly his weak spot. Ask him to attend and he’s there an hour early, regardless of whether you’re his best friend or his cousin twice removed. The man lives for a wedding.

He loves the sentimentality of the ceremony that never fails to make him teary-eyed and oppositely, he loves the liveliness of the reception, half tempted every time to push the DJ aside and take over the mixing of music with a drink in his hand and a sloppy yell. He’s a vivacious mess of mixed moods and energy, but truthfully, he’s the best date anyone could ever ask for.

The best attendee too, considering almost everyone wants him to be a groomsman. He usually can never say no, but this time, it wasn’t even a question; Especially not for Hinata.

But above all, he loves that every wedding he attends grants him ample opportunity to enter into the sanctity of his fantasies and imagine his own.

“Did ya see him up there?!” Atsumu barks with a hard laugh, one hand clutching his whiskey and another his suit-clad chest, “He was cryin’ more than the groom!”

Met with the boastful laughs of his fellow team members, all gathered in a scattered circle by the bar, Bokuto jokingly pushes the blond on his left with a loud scoff and a faux-defense tone.

“I held it in!”

 “I heard you sniffling when Sho finally entered the venue,” Sakusa says, pointing a finger at Bokuto with the same hand that held his own alcoholic drink, “Don’t lie.”

 The group erupts into even more scattered laughter, that of which Bokuto finally joins in. His suit jacket has long since been abandoned, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he holds his hands up in surrender, “What can I say? I love weddings!”

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, Meian joyfully says from beside him, “At least we’ll know now how you’ll be at your own.” His eyes waggle in accompaniment and Bokuto feels his cheeks start to ache from the intensity of his smile. 

“We’ll bring extra tissues!”

Flustered to the core, Bokuto dips his head in abnormal shyness— the likes of which have the entirety of his friend group leaning forward in curiosity, their own interested smiles painted on their faces.

Fascinating as it may be to see the loud and boisterous wing spiker reduced to flushed cheeks at the mention of marriage, it doesn’t take much to figure out why; Even if they didn’t know him as well as they did, it was more than clear as to the reason when Bokuto’s own gaze tries to covertly dart to the side. That of which they all notice and blatantly follow. 

Stood beside the table of the bride, there you stood in all of your sheer elegance laughing with a number of the bridesmaids, blissfully unaware of a loving gaze that was drawn much too heavily to your turned figure. Focused on the way your dress shimmers in the dim lighting and the way you speak amongst the other guests, Bokuto feels locked in the trace of your magnanimous presence. Shyness dissipating quickly and replaced with the overwhelming flutter in his stomach.

And, not for the first time this night, he wonders briefly what it would be like if it were you walking down the aisle; If instead of the sheer, shimmery dress that adorned you beautifully, you were wearing a white one.

As he watched with exuberant joy as one of his closest friends married the one he loved, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if this were his wedding. If it were you walking down the aisle to the ethereal orchestra with your closest friends and family in attendance, all watching with eager rapture at your astounding beauty as he surely would be. But none of them, not a single one of them could ever compare to the intensity of his own stupefied gaze.

He’s imagined the scenario too often, felt tears prick the corner of his eyes every time, and he grows more excited each time he’s fantasized. But nothing gives him more butterflies than the thought of interlocking his hand with yours, placing his ring of eternal promise on your third finger, and avidly vow forever with you.

It’s not like he needs a wedding to promise that; He sees his future every time he looks at you—even if you have your back turned to him and are chatting away unsuspectingly with the fellow attendees.

 But a wedding would be nice, he thinks.

“That’s if he can get married,” Atsumu mutters into his glass cup and takes a long drink of his whiskey.

Bokuto, interrupted from his loving stare at the back of your head, snaps his own head to the blond with the speed to break necks. Eyebrows furrowed, fantasy ruined, and full offense coating his syllables, he exclaims, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, Atsumu leans one elbow on the surface of the bar counter and swirls his drink around, “Ya keep sayin’ yer gonna do it, but how long’s it been? Seven, eight months? If you haven’t done it yet, yer not ever gonna.”

A quick flash of sternness settles into the eyes of their captain, his arm still wrapped around the shoulders of the slowly deflating wing spiker. “He’ll do it when he’s ready, Atsumu. There’s no need to rush something like that.”

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa chimes in from across the three men. Pointing his stare at Koutarou, who resembles a kicked puppy at this point, he sighs. Not one to expel too much effort in emotional comfort, he decides this one is worthy of some kind of attempt. Albeit a minimal one. 

 “Don’t listen to this idiot, Koutarou.”

“‘m jus’ sayin’. She won’t wait for long, man,” Atsumu shrugs his shoulders again, eyes flitting to his right. Out of the corner, Koutarou deflates even more— shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth downturned noticeably. He huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.

Step one, complete.

“Since when were you such an expert in what women want?” Sakusa snorts.

“I have experience, thank you very much!” 

“That’s hard to believe.”

Sticking his tongue out at Sakusa, he pointedly ignores the insult to his knowledge of the feminine desires and turns his attention to the subject matter at hand.

Atsumu knows what women, having dated quite a few in his years. More specifically, he knew what you want, considering one drunk evening you had wondered aloud— quite heartachingly in your alcoholic daze, he might add— if the boisterous wing spiker even wanted to marry you. Bokuto, in your words verbatim—

“He just always gets fidgety when I bring it up and I jus’ dunno if he even likes me anymore cause yesterday, he said that my dinner was just ‘okay’ when he always says that he really loves it. Do you know how that made me feel? How could he even want to marry me when I make just ‘okay’ food? Do you know how much he eats? How can he survive!”

And as the ever so loyal friend that Atsumu considers himself to be, who is never one to ever meddle in the business of others, decided it was only right of him to solve this slight problem himself.

By taunting Bokuto, of course. 

If only to make him take matters into his own hands and finally do what everyone has been waiting for. What he knew the poor man has been dying to do forever, considering he never shuts up about you.

And also, to finally have you stop drunk texting him, no matter how endearing he may find them to be.

“So,” Atsumu sings once more, ignoring the look of exasperation on Meian’s face and instead, zoning in on the face of despair before him, “what are ya waiting for?”

In his stupefied stare at the blond beside him, Bokuto finds his gaze once more being drawn back to your turned figure that stands right in his line of sight. Wearing that pretty dress that you face timed him to get his opinion on, smelling of sweet lavender and jasmine— his favorite perfume of yours— and the lip gloss that you begged him not to mess up. He didn’t listen, and truthfully, you hardly minded all that much.

What is he waiting for? He knows what he wants, so why hasn’t he done it yet?

What if you’re growing tired of how long he’s been waiting? What if you’re unhappy that your relationship hasn’t progressed to the next stage? Oh god, what if--

His mouth opens then closes, then opens once again, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I… I don’t know.”

“Do ya want to marry her?”

Bokuto nods eagerly, as though through the action alone he could dispel of any lingering doubt that ever had the audacity to pervade his thoughts, “Of course! I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Ya think she’s gonna say ‘no’?”

Looking at his two other teammates, who each have their own curiosities piqued at the line of questioning, he shakes his head with finality.

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Then ya just need a push!” Placing his drink on the counter, Atsumu slaps his hand on the man’s shoulder, “How about this: If yer girl catches the bouquet, ya rip the band-aid and ya ask her—”

Stepping in once more, Meian chimes, “Don’t push him to do something he’s not ready for—”

“I ain’t pushin’! He’s got the ring already, right?”

“You do?” All eyes fall onto Bokuto, who stares with widened innocent stare at each of them. He quickly shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out his fist to reveal a velvet box in his hand. 

“I’ve been carrying it with me every day for the past six months. I just didn’t know if I should do it.”

Three pairs of eyes stare blankly at the man before them. Sharing a quick look at one another, the message is translated seamlessly between each of them and voiced eloquently by Meian himself. Ever the efficient captain.

“Holy shit.”

“My friend,” Atsumu laughs, squeezing his hand on the broad shoulder of his closest friend. His smile, innocent enough to the passing gaze, holds that twinge of mischief that Bokuto has come to know rather intimately; A taunting smile that has been directed his way one too many times that usually never ends well.

“I dare ya to propose to yer girl if she catches that bouquet. If yer really a man, that is.”

Bokuto’s eye twitches, his features narrowed at the utterance of the dare, and that’s how Atsumu knows he’s got him in the bag. It has his own smile widening even further, as Bokuto’s face scrunches in suspicion, knowing full well that he could never resist a dare.

With the single word alone, long gone is the hesitancy and doubt that plagued the man just a moment before, and instead stands a man tall in his ushering of competition. A man who thrives off the challenge, especially wherever his teammate presented one. It’s almost startling how quickly he sheds his mopey behavior and embraces his natural presence, which overwhelms and overpowers everyone around them. 

Step two, done.

“And if she doesn’t?” Bokuto asks, smugness filtering his words as he entertains the notion— silently accepts the provocation laid before him and drastically alters himself in order to successfully combat it. 

In order to win.

Spotting the glint of devilry that grows in strength in the narrowing of Bokuto’s eyes, Atsumu smirks and meets it with one of his own. He’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“Ya break up.”

Bokuto reels backward physically, shaken from the competitive trance and staring at the man in grotesque shock. The kind that almost borders anger and offense. Huffing a breath through his nose, he takes a step forward, away from the present comfort of Meian and almost in accusation.

“Are you trying to ruin my life, blondie? You trying to go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?”

Atsumu laughs, holding his hands up in defense, “I’m tryna get ya married, big guy!” Shoving his hands into his pockets, hardly phased by the proximity in which the large man has entrenched onto his space, he shrugs once more, “That is… if yer man enough to take it.”

“Deal,” Bokuto says without hesitation, both incredibly and not at all to the surprise of the other two men who have been silently watching from the sidelines. Like a sudden reset, the tension that resided stiffly in the shoulders of Bokuto rescinds, and replaced is the confident, joyous man. 

A man who looks as though he’s won easy money and then some. 

Smiling widely, Bokuto turns in his place and begins a bold strut away from his friends. In the direction of his beloved, “Excuuuse me, gentlemen. I’m going to go teach my lady how to catch a bouquet.”

Meian and Kiyoomi step to the side, allowing enough space for Bokuto to walk through with the hint of laughter in their small smiles. 

Spinning on his heel and pointing his thumb at his chest, Bokuto exclaims proudly, “This time tomorrow, I will be a married man!”

“One wedding at a time, Kou.” Meian laughs at the retreating man, who is beaming from head to toe.

“Better train ‘er good, big guy! Or else I might be the next one to propose to her!” Atsumu calls out as Bokuto gets closer and closer towards your turned figure.

“I’ll kill you!” He calls back, hearing the echoing laughter diminish as he finally steps beside you.

Turning from the conversation with one of the bridesmaids to the new presence, you shine beautifully upon recognizing who it is, and Bokuto feels his resolve grow almost stronger.

“Hi baby,” You coo, instinctually placing your hand into his and leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek when he quickly presents it to you, “Did you have fun with the boys?”

Wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, he places his own kiss on your cheek, humming against the surface of the skin yet making no move to part from you. “Mhmm. Just missed you.”

You laugh, rubbing your hand on his arm, “You were only gone for a couple minutes, Kou.”

Trailing his lips downward, he nuzzles himself into your neck, inhaling deeply. Lavender and jasmine. His favorite scent.

The one he wants to smell for the rest of his life.

“Ten minutes is too long.”

If possible, he manages to pull you even tighter against him. Two strong arms wrapping around you, pulling your chest into his and squeezing you tightly. Lovingly and entirely too comforting. Home.

You return the embrace eagerly, holding him to you equally as tight, “You’re right. It was starting to get boring without you.”

His hand, warm and large against the small of your back, rubs the surface up and down before he pulls back slightly, if only to look at your face in its entirety and the lip gloss you have unfortunately reapplied.

“You’re gonna do the bouquet toss, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I usually do. Why?”

He glances to the side, avoiding your inquiring stare. He raises a hand from your waist, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile, “Maybe we should go outside, and I can throw a couple of rocks at you. Just to practice your catching skills.”

“Kou— “

“Can’t have anyone disrespecting you on the floor, can we? We gotta let everyone know you’re a winner! Cause you’re my girl, and whoever disrespects you, disrespects me! You know? So, you better catch that fucking bouquet. I mean, our relationship is on the line, here!”

“Koutarou—” From the tone in which you say his name, he knows he’s not making any sense. You’re confused, incredibly so, and he can’t blame you. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that he has a goal, and he has to make you see it without revealing himself entirely.

 “I mean, only if you want to. It just… means a lot to me, and I want you to say yes, because I love you. And if you win, I win in a lot of ways. And I want to win with you, for the rest of our lives.”

Realizing almost entirely too late that he was talking with duplicity that you have most certainly caught on towards, he decides there is a good place to stop talking entirely. Oh god, he’s such an idiot. What was he thinking? He can never hide anything from you!

If you couldn’t tell from the way he was talking in metaphors, you could most definitely see it from the way in which sweat beads at the top of his forehead.

Your eyes flicker from each of his, your warm palms cupping the sides of his face as you watch him with concern.

“Baby,” You breathe out, voice steady and calm as you watch his resolve slowly crack under your watchful stare, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

He tried desperately to remind himself that he has a mission to accomplish, that there was a dare that Atsumu had challenged him to that he must complete—but it’s you. You’re the trump card, the weakness in his defense, his priority above all else. He could never hide anything from you because you would catch him in a quick minute. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to hide anything from you.

It was easy to hide the ring under the guise of waiting for the perfect time, a mental barrier that he could excuse as a good cause behind his hesitancy, but now that he’s accepted a dare that is forcing him to put his desires to immediate use, he can hardly wait for the bouquet toss to arrive.

He’s got to do it now. The time is right, it will never be more perfect. You look beautiful, you’re held tightly in his arms, and he’s never been more convinced of the fact that he loves you. Why has he even waited this long?

He has to do it—Atsumu be damned.

“Marry me.” 

**

Extra:

“You really think she’s going to catch it?” Meian asks Atsumu, as they both watch from afar the way Bokuto wraps himself around your body, nuzzling unabashedly into you.

Atsumu scoffs, “Hell no. Girl can’t catch fer shit.”

Furrowing his brows, Meian stares at the blond with intense confusion, “Then why did you—”

“Just had to plant the idea in his head. He’ll do it soon, jus’ give it a minute.”

The two watch you both silently, noticing the way in which Bokuto pulls away from you and starts to speak rapidly. Neither of them can hear what he’s saying, but they can see his lips moving. More importantly, can see the way in which you stare in perplexion.

Then finally, his lips stop moving and your hands cup his face. The setter and captain feel their breaths hitch and they both lean forward if only to see if they can read the wing spiker’s lips from where they stand.

They can. And from the way you respond with a laugh and an eager kiss, they know it worked.

Looking to Meian, Atsumu raises his brow with a smile, “Told ya!”

end note: to everyone who sent a request, it is on it’s way! i just don’t know the definition of a drabble and instead make 3k long fics, so that’s fun.