#i love group of misfits being forced into situation

[random-kido]

[3lliesan]

Twst x Sbg when????

tbh I might make a fic for it anyways for self-satisfaction, but why hasn't anybody made an twst x sbg fic yet??? I can totally see the first years grouping together for a history project and go on a field trip together, get invited to a haunted house, agree to it bc Ace's stupid ass said he's bored, and shit hits the fan bc- WTF WAS THAT UGLY HUMAN-BOT(??????) THING?!?!? Yuu is like Ashlyn in some ways, learned to open up more as she got used to Twisted Wonderland, and everybody would love it if Ace would stop yapping about the most diabolical shit. Hey, these kids survived multiple Overblots, leave them be. I would like the idea of how the gang of misfits are closer to each other because they have been fighting together in life-or-death situations for a good while now, and this alternative-kinda-end-of-the-world FNAF-ahh situation just made it affect their psyche more.

Speaking of affected psyche,

Ace lowkey carries Aiden's energy tbh, just less unhinged. Oh well, sanity goes down as the semester continues anyway-

Jamil gradually finds himself comparing Floyd and Ace with each other for some reason. Is he influencing the red-head a bit too much...? (Hahahhaha, no.❤️)

Yuu & Deuce: the "scared" duo... - The upright model student who wants to follow the rules and make his mom proud, but finds his hand itching to crack someone's skull when he sees one of his friends being picked on by anybody, whether it's a Phantom or not. - The quiet yet kind magicless prefect who is scared that she might lose another close friend and be forced to get used to her classmates dying on a "mission" on a regular basis again. Don't worry though, she'll do her best to keep the casualties at zero, as always!... Please don't mind her empty gaze and brutality whenever she's engaged in battle though. Old habits die hard.

ANYWAY-

For some reason, I feel like Epel would follow Vil's regime better than before because Phantoms were enough to give him an experience worse than the weirdo house known as "✨𝐸𝓁𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒫𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒻𝒾𝑜𝓇𝑒✨"... Or he somehow thinks it's worse. Well, I guess Epel fits his role as the "Poison Apple" more now! (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) Lilia realizes how he had mistaken Sebek for a certain old comrade he had fought with back in the day. He's quieter these days too... Strange. Jack, in his professional opinion, thinks any of them would survive in Savanahclaw just fine. (Ironic, from the guy who tore apart a couple of phantoms limb-by-limb before out of instinct...)

I'm pretty sure that whenever the first years let their lack of sanity show, their seniors compare them to the state some of them are familiar with... You know, before Overblotting? (⁠θ⁠‿⁠θ⁠)

Ok, I'm done rambling. YOU WANT MORE? ASK FOR MORE. (but if do something based on it I'd be happy with that as well-) Feel free to share ideas! :D

[sharkrad08222222]

Misfits in Toyland Changeling the lost edition

I fuckin love @zal-cryptid 's Toylanders, so I decided to transfer a few into the works of Changeling: The lost, starting with someone who probably wants to be out of here. So HERE IS THE CHARATERS SHEET! ...ah shit forgot people dont know what changeling the lost is...Hold on let me get my thinking cap on, but first, a story of how I think Tammy got in and out of Arcaida.

Once(the Backstory, which I might not need to add and it probably wrong, but I aint wasting it.) Tammy Yokoi was not someone who you wanted to meet. Sure at first, they seemed ok, but give them anything important to do that she had no interest in and she would throw it aside, and probably make fun of you for thinking said task meant anything. This is what made Krampus catch his eye, where he followed her and saw how she was just The worst. Outing a Girl as intersex, outing the same girl as a Lesbian, which pretty much Destroyed her life, and being such a terrible babysitter, that she NEARLY caused one kid to die, and sad kid would have if Krampus didn't step in. Thinking of an apporeate punishment, he turned her into a tamagotchi and pulled her away into his little kingdom in Arcadia. As a tamagotchi, she was unable to feed or clean, herself, and died multiple times, only to come back and to starve all over again. This happened twice before being found, where she was thrust into many a Test to get her working, form being stuck in doom, Monkey Island, and various others, all in a way to improve her living situations. It wasn't all bad, she did meet a Woman named Mel, who got turned into a pull string Baby doll, who she grew rather fond of. but also met the girl she ruined the life of, Jen, who has an Axe to grind. Now.(Life as a changeling) She does not remember how she got out of her plastic prisons, all she remember is that Mel is in danger and she tried to stop it and she then found herself behind a pizzeria. She was quickly found by a summer patrol when she tried to get back to Arcaida, and now is a part of the local Summer court of (insert whatever big city of the state Tammy was form?) Here she is a Driven Elemental, working on getting connected with people to hopefully get back to Arcadia so she can give Krampus a piece of her mind. However, her time has changed her, form a bully to a more care taker role. She still packs quite the snark, but she does give a damn about the people around her. 

Mask and Mien Most changelings are changed form their encounter, literally as they their bodies and souls where forced into new shapes,a Mien. but exiting and the Desire to remain hidden form their form captors looking for escapees, has created their mask. Tammy’s mask is pretty similar to her origins forum, but for the supernatural looking for tells , her heartbeat is more like a Hospital monitor, her eyes show a pixelated reflection, her voice has  only the slightest hint of static.

Her Mien makes her looks like she’s been Rotoscoped into reality, with a body showing visible pixels. Not the most Terrifying but it’s unusual for sure. I would shit my self I say a person suddenly go form normal to Rotoscoped person holding rotoscoped shot gun. Seeming, Kith and Court. Seeming was you where in Arcadia Elementals were people made into forces of nature who got confined to a lined area, but eventually Freed, and now have a lot of power on their hands. As an Elemental of Code and Computer stuff, Tammy can cause computers to bleed pixels and for Monitors to shoot stuff out at people.  Kiths are the roles people got forced into. Being Eletrical in nature, and now with the ability to manipluate a code, Tammy is a Levinquick with the abilithy telaport between the air waves. Carries alot of burner phones for this. Courts are a mix of support Group and survialist club. NO ONE wants to go back, the summer court espselly, who if they keepers are going to try to take them back, they are going to fight tooth, nail, bone and Whatever else to get them to back off. Tammy Joined the summer court cuase to her they seem like the ones most likely to barg into or at least teach the skills on how to do so. For her Mantle with the courts, she is a bit sharper with her insults.

Clarity And keeping it together. Clarity represents how "stable" a changeling is, how connected they are to reality. Clarity is how aware a Changeling is to the world around them, and creatian actions or events can cause this track to take damage Tammy has a common on of not wanting to keep people against their will, cause you know the whole being trapped in a tamagotchi again her will sort of thing. Tammy also doesnt not like it when she witnesses someone experiences Neglect, cause she knows how that feels. Starvation is in the same boat as Neglect, not only for witnessing it but also for feeling it. Another things that cause her clarity attacks is being reminded of pass behaviors. She Realizes that she was bad, and does not want to repeat them, BUT rather than face them, she instead runs from them, buries them. if you think that she could fall back into old habits…you are not wrong.  Luckly though Touchstones, connections to realuty are mantianed and Clarity can be regained. Tammy's Touchstones are a group of kids she babysits for, a circle of kids if you will. was it the best idea to go baby sitting again, but it has given her Convection, with the small rings of kids she baby sits over months and week ends. plus cash for paying her half of the rent. Speaking of which what do all these dots mean? If one has played any TTRPGies, like a D&D, you probably know what skills and attaubies are, Willpower is willpower, burn it to be more likly to succed at a task Glamour is Emontial Fuel that both fuels abilities and existence. but merits is where things get intresting. Merits repersnet more specialzied skills, special training, innate Biological abilities, assets of all sorts, ETC, ETC. Changelings need Glamour to survive and can feel like shit if they dont get any so, but Tammy due to the deprecation she faced in Arcadia has developed a body that take some Glamour Fasting It will still catch up with her but not as fast, at least until she can find some, hedge fruit or People she can feed form.  Having been gone for so long, she has been somewhat forgotten, her parents given up their search, and most of her fellow classmates having moved on, she’s a ghost. Pure Anonymity.  No paper trail, no Criminal Record, none of that.

Her Drive and old skills form playing baseball has come back, make her a Relentless chaser.

She’s made some Allies outside of her summer court, a group of baby sitters, mostly being their to help with unruly kids or getting them to cover for her. They dont know her true nature, but that is liable to change, espelly with one going into clown collage.  Elemental Warrior...We will talk about that later.

A mixed blessing form Her time in Arcadia, but her body has somehow Become Hardy out how to go on even when the ravages of the world are after her. but WAIT THEIR'S MORE due to the laws and red tape of Reality, changelings can take up contracts with the funablemtal forces of the universe. On the list their is the classic for all elementls elemental weapon! Using the code around her she shapes it into a weapons to use against her foes. Usually a shotgun of some sort, but with enough concentration he can summon an old Navel Cannon. Need to scare someone off? Overpowering Dread, is the ability to do just that. Tammy could Summons the illusion of a big scary monster but she usually just makes them leave though supernatural potent Insults.

Do you want to put a curse on a target, but dont have time for a HEX? Retrograde is the choice for you. Tammy's manfest , causing  the targets phone to not work, computers to crash and for the GPS to break down.  Sometimes you need to hide, or make it look like your unattiable and Trapdoor Spider’s Trick is ,well, the trick. Tammy causes any doors to appear barracked with the power of an anti virus software. Sometimes you need to make some one really pissed off, so that is why Tammy uses Sunburnt Heart is infusing someone with the anger of the sun(The sun is well known for being incredibly petty, still hasnt forgiven her kids cause they killed here dad), so using the power of the summer sun, Tammy can infuse people with the rage, and then direct those people away form her.

owever if tammy wants to use her own rage, Elemental Fury is the go too. Causing all the srceens to bleed out pixels what replate environments, while also damaging all who are caught in. A favor of hers is sending a crap ton of rude messages to a bunch of people causing them to riot in an area.

and this STILL isnt everything, but DEAR GOD I have been here for too long, and I am going to go now...and stat out Krampus.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

He's Just a Herald and He's On Fire!

So, if there is one consistent theme with protagonists in Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar universe, it's that there is a STARTLING number of them who are misfits in their families, misunderstood, and a little anxious and melancholic about the whole thing. You'd think that this would get boring fast, but Lackey manages to mix up the details enough that they don't meld together in my head, and in point of fact, I have actual favorites. One of whom we are talking about today. That's what this post is for. Lan Chitward is one of my favorite herald protagonists. Let's talk Brightly Burning.

Hi, hello, welcome. If this is your first time on my blog, please be warned that this is A SPOILERIFIC ZONE. I will SPOIL THE CRAP OUT OF THIS BOOK. Consider yourself warned.

Y'all, I am a Shakespeare scholar, so if I ever post anything along the lines of "Tragedies suck and I hate them," please send help, I've been kidnapped. Your girl LOVES a good tragedy, and that's really what this book is: An Amazing Tragedy. But that's just the end for Herald Lavan Firestorm and his Companion Kalira.

At the beginning of this book, we meet Lavan "Lan" Chitward, ugly duckling son of a pair of extremely prosperous merchants who feels ignored, misunderstood, and transplanted from the place that made him happiest. Kiddo has zero desire to follow either of his parents into their trades, so when they hit their wits' ends, said parents send Lan to a merchant-run school so Lan can find himself a direction in life that he feels will suit him.

Lan's parents might not be able to empathize or communicate with their son, but they did try to set him up for success. They tried. They get a couple of points for that. Not a lot. But a couple.

Unfortunately for Lan, he gets to discover the downsides of private school firsthand when he is relentlessly and cruelly bullied by older students. Lan's anxiety and very real, rational fear of bodily and social harm get so bad that to save his life, his Firestarting Gift explodes out of his control. By the time the smoke clears, four boys are dead and Lan is being carted up to the palace to explain to Herald Pol what on earth had been happening in his school and how the fire started. Stress from being questioned makes Lan lose control again, but before he can start a second killer fire, Kalira chooses Lan. Handily, Kalira is the daughter of Pol's companion, Satiran, so Pol is aware from the jump that Lan is more than just Kalira's Choice: The two are lifebonded.

Go nuts, Ao3.

However, this is about when the members of the heraldic circle start looking at each other sideways and going, "oh no. Firestarting Gifts usually only pop up when we're going to need them..." So while Lan is getting tutored by Pol, Kalira, his new best friend Tuck, and Pol's daughter Eleanor, Karse is causing trouble at the border--like preparing to invade and burn all the heralds to death trouble. Karse is not your friend, and their sun priests tend to target heralds and healers, and the only thing worse than being killed by Karsite troops is being taken alive to be burned at the stake or--for healers--be forced to use your gift until you burn out and die. So: Bad Situation.

Ultimately, the command decision is made to send Lan to the front. Lan at this point is an emotionally unstable, half-trained at best trainee herald. The poor kid is getting yeeted into a situation he is absolutely unprepared to handle. Before he and Pol even MAKE it to the front, they're attacked by a scout group and Pol is blinded--put a pin in that, we're going to come back to it. So Lan gets to the front already traumatized and somewhat sans his trusted mentor. It's not good.

Ultimately, the title of this book comes back to haunt Lan and Kalira: they burn, too brightly. Kalira takes an arrow in battle to save Lan, and in his grief and rage, Lan unleashes his final strike, taking out the Karsite army, an entire pine forest, and even some of his own soldiers--firestorms are hard to aim. Lan is posthumously raised to full Herald rank, and losing their entire army puts Karse on the shelf. It's the very definition of a pyrrhic victory, however. Lan burned himself out at age sixteen. He was a half-trained child doing his level best, and he was put in a situation that he was objectively unready for. It's heartbreaking, it's tragic...it's WONDERFULLY done.

The entire time you're reading this book and falling in love with Lan and Kalira, you're thinking "they'll be alright, won't they? They have to be alright." But you have enough other beloved characters that you get to know well enough that you also get to mourn with them once Lan and Kalira are gone. You get pulled into this story and you just want to hug Lan and stick him somewhere safe. This is one of my favorite Valdemar books, no question.

This is where I want to just briefly come back to Herald Pol and the attack that costs him his sight. I have no objection about the context in which this occurs. Shit happens in war. It's tragic, it's traumatic, it COMPLETELY SUCKS, but there aren't any red flags in terms of how Pol is disabled. There is also a fairly realistic period in which Pol is trying to adjust to not having sight. He also can see through Satiran's eyes for short periods of time because magic, but since this comes with a cost in energy and magic and doesn't inherently negate the disability, we're still fine. It's an emergency stopgap measure, not a functional cure. So far, so fine.

Unfortunately, there are a couple of things I don't love about how Pol's blinding is handled. The first thing is a bit "your mileage may vary" rather than a genuinely harmful negative representation, but it threw up a faint red flag when I was reading, so I'm talking about it. Traumatic injuries are so described for a reason; people have very very valid feelings and reactions to being suddenly and violently disabled, and part of adjusting is having the time and space to work through those feelings. Now. Pol and Lan are literally in a war zone, they are indispensably important figures, so they can't just be sent home. There also kind of isn't time and space to deal with the emotions in a war zone. All of that is fair enough. It would suck to have to just swallow the feels and keep functioning, and that could even lead to some good narrative tension.

That's not what happens though.

I'll just give you the text from the book for this bit:

Some time during the ride to headquarters, Pol had made up his mind on several points; it had given him relief from the pain to work things logically through in that way. Losing his eyesight was not going to be a tragedy, and if Ilea could not Heal him, then he would simply accept that. The events of the evening only confirmed that belief. He worked through everything as logically as he could during the ride, and during that night and the day and night that followed, in his dreams he was able to employ a technique called directed dreaming to work through things emotionally. It wasn't easy; he exhausted himself all over again, weeping for what he had lost and raging against everyone involved, including himself. But it had to be done, and quickly, and dreams were the best and least harmful place to do so.

I'm not going to say that his experience as a Herald and soldier don't give this some credibility, and I'm not going to say that narrative compression isn't a thing that writers can and do use to get characters from emotional point a to point b, but this stretched my credibility just a skooch and made me go, "They're going to keep him blind, right?"

Reader, they healed him at the end of the book. Can we PLEASE let him live a full herald life while blind??? He was no less effective without his sight than with it, and A LITTLE PHYSICAL DISABILITY REP AMONG THE ACTIVE-DUTY HERALDS WOULD BE LOVELY. Plenty of them live with anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, or other mental health challenges, but heaven forbid a herald have a physical disability.

This is a pattern I'm noticing more and more in books. Soldiers and soldier-adjacent characters can experience mental illness and disability, but not physical. It's that really annoying mind-body split looming large, and I don't have a good solution for this other than letting active duty characters also have physical disabilities, rather than having them be cured, retired, or in roles that never require them to be in the field. And I do get that like...if you are physically disabled, your best bet is not to be in a fight, but that's not how LIFE works. Sometimes the fight comes to you, or your expertise is needed in the field. It happens. LET IT.

Other than my growing frustration with disability rep in military, military-adjacent, and martial-esque organizations in fiction, I love this book to little tiny pieces. It's a beautifully executed tragedy without being self-indulgent or unnecessarily maudlin.

[sticksbatnix]

I know its super late, but on your Batman Beyond thoughts, I always wonder where all these powerful and weird looking misfit teenagers become Jokerz?

Or like does Bonk have parents, if so did they care about his death?

You make a very good point here, anon.

The show, as great as it is, fails to elaborate much on The Jokerz's past as a whole. Sure, there are tidbits here and there but more should have been added to properly explain how and why they joined The Jokerz in the first place.

Sure, make the point they were dumb teens who didn't know better, but there's more than that, there always is.

So let's explain it further by the five W’s.

Who, What, Where, When, and Why.

Who?

Who are the characters presented to us?

Ghoul, DeeDee, Chucko, Wolf, and Bonk.

And whoever other teenager dressing up is similar to either The Joker or Harley Quinn herself.

What?

What is happening to these characters and the people around them?

Simple, a group of misfit teenagers go out of their way to cause chaos and mischief wherever they go. Of course, lacking general empathy, causing property damage, and directly or indirectly murdering people whether they were innocent or not. And to be stopped by either law enforcement or by The Batman.

Where?

Gotham City, more specifically Neo-Gotham City.

The various old and decrepit buildings of what Gotham City was like before were long forgotten. Likely, used for the citizens of Gotham who couldn't afford the luxurious apartments and homes near and within Neo-Gotham.

When?

The future.

A time beyond Batman’s prime in time for a new Batman to take place. Just in time to handle the new and chaotic criminals that run or fly freely across the city. New technology, new law enforcement, new drugs, and new opportunities to cause havoc upon the citizens of the futuristic city.

Why?

Many reasons, few predictable, others reasonable, and the rest unexplainable.

Throughout the show, it's shown that various teenagers who go into a life of crime have rough backgrounds. Abusive or neglectful parents, low income, bullying, or even the corruption of authorities.

Bonk’s death, while brief, shows the cruel reality that many of these young criminal teenagers would face. Yes, they may be having fun, but over time they’ll be able to face life-threatening situations that may end their life. It could be painful, it could be painless, or it could have long-lasting effects if they survived. In Bonk’s case, he made the fatal mistake of going up against The Joker, paying dearly for it, and dying with a permanent smile on his face.

His body might as well be disposed of near or in a trashcan. I doubt DeeDee would go the extra mile to deliver his body to his parents, but if they did I can't imagine the horror his parents would have finding his corpse laid out on their front porch. Now, whether or not they cared for Bonk is unknown, but judging his brutish personality I could only speculate he cared for himself and likely hated being seen as lesser than everyone else. Especially his parents.

The other Jokerz can be speculated as well.

Ghoul came from a rich family, likely running off to live a life without rules and regulations. I've written a few scenarios about this on this blog about this. His family likely disowned him because of his involvement with The Jokerz as I never see them visit him when he's captured.

DeeDee are related to Harley Quinn, now whether they know about that is up in the air. But it's obvious they were inspired despite how much their ‘Nana Harley’ despised them for it. They seem to enjoy the limelight of joining forces to cause havoc and chaos all at once despite everyone telling them not to.

Chucko is a bully who loves inflicting misery on others. Likely joined The Jokerz to bully others without consequences and cause mass amounts of destruction. Whether or not he came from a bad family, it's clear that Chucko enjoys bullying others he sees as lesser than him.

Wolf was human before being spliced with hyena DNA and became the rabid creature we all know. It's possible that he felt a clear connection with animals, specifically dogs, rather than with his own family. Maybe he felt like being a dog/hyena made him feel more complete rather than living his life out like a human.

And we already talked about Bonk.

God knows about the other Jokerz members.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen in the next ten years for these characters and where they’ll be then.

Would they be dead? Would they get proper help and move on? Would they still be in jail? Would they change their whole gimmick and become like the villains from the past?

This reminds me, I found an artist on Devianart who specifically drew The Jokerz gang if they took part in the inspirations of past villains. Ghoul as Scarecrow, Wolf as Killer Croc, and Bonk as Bane. It's very creative and I feel like it should get more attention for how creative they all were.

Nonetheless, The Jokerz gang should be talked more about not only for their missed potential but for their capability to do so much more.

[thegayhimbo]

Stranger Things Tomb of Ybwen Review

If you haven't yet, be sure to check out my reviews for other Stranger Things tie-ins. Like, reblog, and let me know what your thoughts are:

Stranger Things Six

Stranger Things Halloween Special

Stranger Things The Other Side

Stranger Things Zombie Boys

Stranger Things The Bully

Stranger Things Winter Special

Synopsis: It's January 1985, two months after the group's battle with the Mind Flayer. Still reeling from the death of Bob Newby, Will becomes intrigued one day when he and Mr. Clarke discover a map containing clues from Bob to an ancient Viking treasure buried in Hawkins. Against the wishes of his friends, Will ventures into Mirkwood to look for the treasure just as a blizzard hits. Fearing for his safety, Will's friends go after him as they also begin to wonder if the treasure is real..........

Observations:

I said this before in my Halloween Special Review, but this is a personal favorite. Comics and tie-ins that focus on the Party hanging out, being friends, and having adventures (even if said adventures aren't tied to the Upside Down) are fun to read. This comic in particular takes heavily after The Goonies, a 1985 movie (which is exactly the same year this comic takes place in) written by Steven Spielberg and Chris Columbus, centering around a group of misfits who discover a map leading to a 17th century pirate treasure. It also stars a younger Sean Astin 30+ years before he played the role of Bob Newby on Stranger Things. Even the artwork for this comic pays homage to that movie:

The big differences between the movie and this comic are:

1.) The Party isn't getting chased around by a greedy family who wants the treasure for themselves. The only threat the group encounters is a nasty blizzard that leaves them trapped in the cold, forcing Mr. Clarke to come looking for them midway through.

2.) Unlike the movie, the treasure isn't given as much as importance as the reason for why Will wants to find it.

One of the things I've appreciated about the comics and tie-in materials is how they've given more focus to Will and enhanced aspects of his character that the show briefly touched upon. The Other Side did a great job demonstrating what Will's time was like in the Upside Down and what he had to do to survive. Zombie Boys helped illustrate the trauma and PTSD Will went through following the events of season 1, as well as his friends attempts to help him recover from it. This comic by comparison puts more focus on how Will reacted to Bob's death in season 2 and how he's coming to terms with that.

Will didn't just see Bob as a friend, but as a father-figure. Someone he could look up to and get advice from. Someone who could have been a part of his family had he not died. Now that Bob's gone, there's a mix of both grief and anger in Will, as well as the idea that locating this treasure could give him closure.

I don't want to spoil what the treasure is, but if you remember what Bob was like on the show, with his love of puzzles and mysteries, then you can probably guess that the treasure hunt he left clues for was more about the journey for him than about the destination.

And I would argue that's what Will learns by the end of it. He's initially bitter about the reveal regarding the treasure, but deep down, it was never really about the treasure. It was about him getting to know Bob better and connecting with him one last time through the treasure hunt Bob set up 20 years ago. It was about Will getting to say a final goodbye to someone he cared about.

It's nice seeing the other characters in this comic supporting Will through this. Mr. Clarke introduces Will to the history of how Bob formed the AV Club, and even gives him the map that kickstarts the plot. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas struggle with how to best approach Will's situation (sometimes they handle it with tact, other times they don't) and even join him on his quest despite how bad the weather gets because they recognize this is important to Will.

There's also Dustin who (despite having gotten his feet wet in the blizzard) becomes intrigued by the treasure when he sees the X on the tree and starts digging for it because he realizes there are actual clues pointing in a certain direction.

Furthermore, while the comic borrows heavily from The Goonies, it also contains a lot of references to Lord of the Rings: Will going into Mirkwood to find the treasure. The Party climbing a wintry hill just like the Fellowship climbs Caradhras in the books. Them arriving at an actual mine where the treasure is located, which Dustin is quick to name The Mines of Moria:

On a slightly related note, since Stranger Things heavily borrows references from LOTR, I have started looking at the books as one means of predicting the direction the Duffer Brothers might go in season 5. I also see many of the characters on the show paralleling characters from The Fellowship of the Ring:

Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas for instance all have characteristics that resemble Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. If I were to say which ones are a direct parallel to whom, I'd probably argue that Dustin has a lot of Pippin's qualities, with his natural curiosity and fun-loving nature. Lucas is Merry with his pragmatism and being the more sensible one in the group. People might disagree with me on this, but I see Mike resembling Sam with his unwavering loyalty to those he cares about while Will resembles Frodo with his kind nature and being the one established as having a connection to the main villain of the series (Sauron/Vecna). Even the comic itself has Lucas referring to Will as Frodo.

There are other parallels as well, which I may do a separate post about later if I choose to. Hopper's fake death in season 3 and battle with the Demogorgon in season 4 reminds me of Gandalf's supposed death at Khazad-Dum and the fight he and the Balrog have later on a snow-covered peak.

Back in June, I made a prediction about the possibility of the show killing off Mike, and even drew parallels between that and the way Boromir's death broke the Fellowship, and how Frodo's decision to sail to the Grey Havens at the end of the series was officially the end for the core four (Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin). Regardless of what fans have said, I could see a scenario where the Duffer Brothers kill off one of the main characters if they think it'll either drive the plot forward or impact the other characters in a way that affects future decisions for them moving forward. Since Mike is described on the show as being "The Heart" of the Party, and since both Will and El (two characters who have personal history with Vecna) are closest to Mike, I could see Vecna targeting Mike as a way of hurting both of them and demoralizing the group.

Finally, this is something I discussed with @spaghettificationandpretzels in one of my reviews, but since they've established on the show that the hive mind in the Upside Down connects all the way to Vecna, killing him once and for all would be similar to Sauron's downfall in the books where his defeat would decimate whatever armies he controls and the land he inhabits.

But I digress.

Some final aspects to note from this comic:

Scott Clarke is still dating Jen Woo from season 1, and they seem to have a happy relationship. I hope they both appear in the final season. I wouldn't even mind if the next comic or graphic novel centers around Mr. Clarke. People have joked online about how they wish they could know more about his personal life, and I would fully support a story focusing on that.

Also, Dustin briefly talks with Will at the beginning about signing up for Camp Know Where over the Summer. The events surrounding his time there (and how he meets Suzie) are covered in the comic Stranger Things Science Camp.

Overall, this is a fun comic and a must-read. I want to be careful about saying what is or isn't canon, especially when it comes to supplementary tie-ins, but this particular story is something I could see being part of the canon, especially because it doesn't contradict anything from the show and it helps build on a meaningful relationship from the show (Will and Bob). Check it out when you get the chance! :)

[night-market-if]

Uuungh I loved playing through chapter 11 and getting my suspicions re: mc origins confirmed. But I felt kinda bad for my Milo romancing MC. I know MC isn't truly a person that we, the player, determine the personality of via in game stats and that they are only semi-customizable but for my Milo romance, I pictured MC being a more rational/pragmatic/emotionally distant person (or so they pretend) and Milo helped them thaw and open up, so to speak, and brightened the MC's world so much that they were blinded by him. They trust(ed) him, even though Milo acted super cagey and seemed to hint that that's really not a good idea. They trusted him the most out of everyone of their little group of misfits but now they just feel tired and bitter and foolish. They still like him a lot, maybe even love, but if you're gonna give us options to show Milo a more frosty attitude (without ending the romance), I sure am going to choose those for my MC for a bit. Knowing Milo, that'll only make him more squirrel-y and prone to avoidance but I think MC has earned the right to a little anger. They want to help Milo but they are also a person (entity) with feelings, someone who has been tossed from one danger into the next without much rest. And then feelings got complicated (for both Milo and MC) and truths were laid bare and, I feel, this MC is so fucking tired of having to fix it all. And knowing that they'll have to continue to fix it. While muddling through the entire Milo thing. Who they want to hold and shake at the same time.

Tl;dr: Everything is messy. :(

You got Milo's personality on lock. You are absolutely right to think that being frosty with him will make him cagey right back. Down right mean at times to. But does that mean MC shouldn't do that? Absolutely not. I am hoping I offered a range of emotions in the final talk with Milo next chapter. I like the way you have your MC set up and I think that feeling of betrayal and tiredness was a lot of where I was writing the MC from when doing the next chapter. So hopefully, that is there.

I do not think that anyone is going to leave the situation at the end of book 1 satisfied with their talk with Milo. I think there is a lot that needs to be talked about there and a lot that is going to have to be forced to light first. The next chapter is just the beginning of those talks. But, I am hoping, that it at least feels like the MC is finally getting somewhere.

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[howlingcliffs]

I will be honest I do not remember many of your OCs! Could we have a rundown?

SURE ! i have a few “”””series”””” . you can find a lot of art of all my ocs on my art blog @terracomets under the #oc and #ocs tags but these two under the cut are what im fixated on rn .

anyway I CAN FINALLY TALK ABOUT MY OCS

MISFIT MANIA

creek: woodcarver from a taiga biome. best friends with pike the enderman and cosmo calloway / dr. fear. does his best to be optimistic and comfortable but always seems to be afraid of something. has a twin brother named tide! he / him

pike: runaway enderman who escaped the end. lived with creek and tide in the woods for 14 years before an accident that made them have to leave. best friends with creek and cal and the oldest of four siblings. very in tune to the emotions of others, but isnt very good with them. she / he / they

calloway: former con artist who meets creek and pike while on their way to beacontown. runs a shop that sells stuff like oddities and antiques. always has the urge to look over their shoulder, but doesn’t know why. has wither sickness and amnesia! they / them

tide: creeks twin brother. was zombified after attempting to protect creek and find pike while being attacked in the woods. later becomes best friends with cal and becomes a courier. he / him

myrtle: pikes youngest sibling from the end. escapes long after pike does to try and find a way to save her home. has an interest in scrolls and myths and loves history! she / her

lotus: creek and tides mother who went missing after giving them time to escape their old farm while it was under attack. very fond of her sons and not very fond of their father. a former farmer and claw’s first owner! she / her

other misfits characters include bracken , great dragon aether , great mage saffron , tarragon , parsley , zombie general blitz , and eiche but i dont feel like writing blurbs . ask for information and i will provide

TRUENORTH

emmett: golden hearted tinker and proud mechanic. he owns and maintains the main group’s mode of transportation which is a run down volkswagen bus named buggy. has the worlds fattest crush on trond and the most positive outlook out of the whole group. he / him

trond: a guy with a lot of walls and not a lot of optimism. not a pessimist, but has come to accept the group’s poor circumstances and living situation and doesn’t expect their day to day struggles to ever go away. he / him

mattias: loud and proud. was in the running to be part of the campguard force but dropped it after witnessing one of his fellow trainees using the position to harass emmett. now works odd jobs to help him and his friends get by. also looking to start a revolution. he / him

tim: musician who plays songs in the square to make a bit of extra money. actual job is as a baker with the camp elder alder and his grandson sycamore. strives for change just as much as mattias, if not more, but is more careful and calculated than his other half. he / him

other truenorth characters include flint , pax, pek , yakov , bruley , and the compass keepers but i dont want to write little blurbs . ask about them and ill chat up a storm

[beautifulblooms]

Reunited - Eddie Munson x Male! Reader

Male! Reader, wanted to write a fic for my favorite freak of Hawkins High, fluffy shit, tooth rotting almost, takes places while he’s hiding and ya know a murder suspect, onto my gay induced coma because of this man

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

It’s been three days since Chrissy died in the living room of the Munson’s trailer. Three days since I had been able to actually talk to and do anything with my boyfriend. Eddie Munson was known as The Freak of Hawkins High, a crazy cultist with a group of misfits to follow him. But that’s not what he was to me, to me he’s compassionate, loving, maybe a little crazy, but he’s my boyfriend.

Of course it wasn’t widely acceptable to be gay, especially not in a small town in Indiana but who give a damn, I’m happy, Eddie’s happy, fuck the rest of them. However, being his boyfriend did leave me in a rather strange situation at the moment. Ed’s was off hiding somewhere, but I was being questioned by the police, tracked down by Jason and his team, and I had four kids constantly calling my name through a walkie for assistance.

All I wanted was to be in my bed with Eddie and a couple movies playing while we both chilled and ate whatever the hell we wanted for as long as we could. But for the time being I had caught a break from everything. The cops had left my place to move onto the next person that might know where Eddie is and I could take a second to breathe. Flopping onto my bed I grabbed one of my pillows and began to scream into it.

“GOD DAMMIT I‘M TIRED OF THIS CRAZY TOWN’S BULLSHIT AND ALL THE PROBLEMS IT CAUSES! FUCKS SAKE!” Finishing my rage screaming I flipped onto my back and hugged the pillow to my chest. “Why can’t things go back to the way they were?” Feeling the tears well up in my eyes I almost let them slip down my cheeks before I heard it.

“(Y/n)! I know you have this walkie turned on so answer me dammit!” And there’s Dustin Henderson beckoning me to ask me more questions.

“What do you want, Henderson, I’m not in the mood.” He must’ve still had his finger on the button because there was some background noise that doesn’t normally come through on an empty channel.

“Good to know I’m not the only one pissed at these circumstances.” That wasn’t Dustin, it was Eddie! But how was he with Dustin if he was hiding somewhere?

“Dustin, either your balls dropped and you got more sarcastic or that was Eddie, so tell me which one it was.” I knew it had to be Ed’s but with how stressed I was lately there was some needed confirmation for me to trust it was really him.

“It was Eddie, that’s what I was going to say, we found him-“ Quickly cutting him off I asked, well, more forced a response out of him.

“Where the fuck are you, address, anything, now Henderson!” I was tired of not seeing my boyfriend, hell I would sprint to wherever he’s at just to hug Eddie.

“Jesus Christ we’re at 2121 Holland Rd.-“

“On my way.” Without even giving him the chance to say anything else I turn the walkie off and run out of the house, snagging my keys on the way out. Popping open the car door I slid in, threw the keys in the ignition and sped out of the driveway. The only benefit about Hawkins being so small is that you know where everywhere is so figuring out where they were at was a piece of cake. And of course the place Eddie holed himself up at was right on Lover’s Lake, I expect nothing less from him to go to places we hang out often.

Making it to the house I parked the car and grabbed my keys before sprinting into the house.

“Baby!! Baby where are you?!?! Eddie!! Please, it's me!” I was desperate at this point, all I wanted was to feel his arms around me and take in his scent. Stepping onto the back porch I sighed, they lied to me, why would they lie to me? Glancing over the lake I noticed a boathouse not far from the place I was in right now, and there he was poking his head out the window, my freak of a boyfriend. The porch wasn’t quite over the lake so I hopped the side and rolled onto the ground running to the boathouse.

Slamming open the door my head turned rapidly on its own scanning every face in front of me before I saw his. The one person I wanted in the whole world, the only one that made me feel special and not like some crazy fairy. In a few broad steps I made it in front of him and wrapped my arms around his torso.

“I missed you so much, I thought you left or died or something stupid, please don’t just hide like that ever again, come to my place you know my windows always open.” My words were barely understandable with the tears in my voice. He clutched onto me, arms wrapping around me just as right as mine.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to go to your place and get you in trouble too.” He tried to explain but we both knew better. I looked into his eyes before speaking.

“We both know that me dating you is more than enough reason to be in trouble with the cops, especially now. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Letting my last few words out I pushed my lips onto Eddie’s with such force he had to step back to make sure he didn’t fall. The kiss would’ve turned heated had the snot nosed kids behind us started gagging.

“How about you two get a room after we finish explaining Vecna and the upside down and the whole hell hole of this situation.” Dustin cut in and ruined our moment, pulling away I turned around in Eddie’s arms to glare at him.

“Then get talking Henderson because I have catch up to do myself.” I felt Eddie’s arms tighten around my middle as he buried his head into my neck, a smile creeped it’s way onto my face as I let Dustin start his explanation. I can’t wait for later.

[kaiwewi]

Choice Misfits #2

[Masterlist: Choice Misfits] [Part 1]

Synopsis: Former Villain is suffering through a tedious Hero Agency meeting. But the new sidekick is about to shake things up.

Two weeks had gone by since that irritating new sidekick's first day at the Hero Agency, and yet the kid still hadn't chosen a mentor.

Sidekick had demanded to take part in a couple missions first before they’d pick the hero who’d become their primary teacher. Extended orientation periods weren’t common practice, but the heroes had agreed enthusiastically; after all, most of them loved to show off their abilities and none of them would pass on a chance to become mentor to the kid who possessed more than one power.

At breaktime, the corridors were filled with hushed whispers of Sidekick’s tremendous potential and the bright future of the Hero Agency. Nothing substantial; all gossip and speculations, fuelled by the fact that Superhero had never wanted a candidate to enrol in the program this desperately.

Naturally, the kid knew to exploit the situation.

If Sidekick wanted extras, they’d get them. If Sidekick wanted to see every group member in action, they’d be allowed to join the team on missions. If Sidekick wanted to choose the design for their own costume, the Agency’s designer would practically lick the kid’s boots and thank them for the opportunity.

It was ridiculous, bordering on degrading.

Former Villain listlessly chewed on a gummy worm as they watched the heroes busying themselves with paperwork and mission reports. There wasn’t really a point in them being here, since no one gave much of a damn about their contributions anyway. But if they brought that up one more time, Superhero might just go through with her threat of assigning them to garage duty, which was worse. (Being bored eating candy while sitting in a well-cushioned chair was objectively much better than being bored not eating candy while sweeping a hall that reeked of dust and gasoline.)

“Okay,” Superhero said, “this concludes mission planning. Does anyone have anything to add?”

Sidekick stepped forward.

“I’ve made my choice,” they said and all whispered conversations in the meeting room immediately ceased.

Superhero perked up. She smiled her friendliest sparkling superhero smile (a tad too broad to look entirely believable) and rounded the table. She put her hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“That is wonderful, Sidekick. Whom did you pick?”

Of course, everyone already knew Superhero herself would be the obvious choice for a mentee with multiple powers. She had four different abilities and could wield three of them with great precision and destructive force. Her guidance would be invaluable.

Hero would be another good choice. Though he only had two powers, he could combine those to an annoyingly devastating effect. But not every power combination would necessarily yield such great results under hero's custom-tailored approach. So that was a bit of a gamble.

However, no matter which of the heroes the sidekick would pick, it should be fine. Most of the other team members would make excellent mentors as well. Training the recruits was a group effort for the most part anyway, and everyone got to train with Superhero or Hero at some point. The recruits’ personal mentors merely offered additional support, a few hours of extra practice, and advice.

Picking a less busy hero might actually prove the better choice.

Either way, all of this was highly ceremonial, no more than superficial rituals and PR gigs. Tomorrow, this would be all over the news, taking up screen time that could have been better spend on providing crucial information about the state of the world and its people.

So annoying …

They fished around in their pack of gummy worms, collecting only the red-and-yellow ones, and sighed. Urgh, official meetings were the worst.

The silence stretched, then Sidekick said, “I want that one.”

Someone gasped, too loud in a room so eerily still. A moment later, several sets of feet began to shuffle on the linoleum-covered floor. Nobody spoke.

They looked up then, from the handful of gummy worms they’d been about to stuff into their mouth, at the sidekick pointing directly at them.

As they locked eyes, the kid's polite smile morphed into a smirk.

“I want Former Villain to be my mentor.”

[Part 3]

———

For my other stories, visit my [MASTERLIST] ♥

[midnight-and-his-melodiverse]

THE MIDNIGHT'S MELODIVERSE MASTERLIST (Version 3, baby!!)

Welcome one and all to that which is my third revision of this lovely masterlist for all the writing stuff I do on this blog, enjoy your stay!

But without further ado, let's get into the main meat of what you're here for: the stories!

I. INTRODUCING... THE MMLU! (Midnight's Melodiverse Literary Universe)

Summary: A young half-wolf, half-demon teen named Midnight, discovers a mysterious musical blade that appears at his doorstep one morning. Said to be a gift from a higher power, he takes it, not knowing that he would eventually need it in a desperate situation. Strange arcane events soon begin to befall the sparsely-populated Penwood City, orchestrated by a furry demon named Dev, and Midnight's supernatural sibling who happens to also be a demon named Staticlight. Midnight gathers his friends to find the source of these arcane events, and keep the powerful Melody Blade within Midnight's own hands, so that a total brainwashing and deafening of the city is prevented.

Goblin Theft Auto is a collection of five short stories, which follows the reluctant adventures of a young goblin girl named Leshi Desxia along with a group of goblin misfits as they wish to be known and feared for their crimes, for whatever reason.

"Misfits of Penwood City" , the first of five stories in this collection, follows the beginning of their adventures as they try to break in to random people's houses and startle them just enough so they can sneak in and… apparently, steal a bowl of fruit for the road ahead.

"The Sunlight Library", the second of five, follows the cast as they come across the elusive Sunlight Library, run by a young teen girl and a magical librarian cat named Naida, who somehow keeps track of everyone's favorite books, their names, and how often they come in.

After a failed attempt to try and take the cat for their own, they high-tail it out of there as fast as they showed up, hoping that they won't get caught.

"The Bank of Strange Gems, the third of five, follows the cast as they take an excursion to Penwood City's Gem Bank, a place where the mysterious seven Melody Gems are kept, that hold the world's magic in balance. Of course, some of the misfits get a LITTLE too curious, which nearly ends up with one of them being turned into a Night Demon, after fiddling with the Moon Gem for too long.

"Into the Starlight Forest", the fourth of five, follows the cast during one of their daily burglary excursions, when a distress signal calls them to a strange forest called the Starlight Forest.

Here, they encounter a home of faeries who say that they're in trouble because some of their friends have been put under a malicious spell by the shadow goddess Atrixi. However, before they go further on their adventure, they head to the Sunlight Library and borrow the magical librarian cat, who might prove useful.

Summary: After two adventurous young kids stumble upon a strange spacecraft, they are thrown into a grand adventure through space with a cranky AI who loves to misnavigate the ship, a group of strangely greedy space pirates who really want a piece of the group's ship, named the Titania, and an emperor who wishes to siphon music magic from everyone and everything to give himself power.

Summary: A young metalhead girl discovers that vampires with the gift of music have formed a strange cult; one of being a symphonic metal band. Though, after she is roped into their backstage cult by force... she discovers that this band has many dark secrets, when she finds bodies of people in their church where they perform...

Summary: After a young teen discovers a cosmic horror in his dream, it's a race against time for him and his family to find the portal to the mirror dimension of which this cosmic horror inhabited, the cosmic horror itself, and liberate the trapped kingdom before cataclysmic events descend upon the world, keeping them in this mirrored reality.

Summary: After a young teen girl encounters a spirit from beyond the veil, they notify her that strange events have been occurring where certain evil spirits are possessing mortals, and thus, a distress signal was sent to her to help out the situation, before evil spirits cross over into the human world. However, it's a race against time, as the girl realizes in order to enter the spirit realm, she must forfeit her life by way of painless magic. Though she's hesitant at first, she does so, and realizes there's more depth to the spirit world than she had been led to believe when she was told bedtime stories and convinced that they didn't exist.

Tooth and Tail (no banner yet)

A Minuet of Monsters (no banner yet)

TOTAL STORIES WITHIN THE MMLU: 10

II. OTHER STORIES

MIDSCRYPTION (Inscryption x The Melodiverse AU, that is being co-written by @scratched-fountains (Ame), and I!)

(new!!) Writing Youtube Channel:

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Social Media AU - Richie Tozier comes out during a show

I decided that this AU works better with a written headcanon to go with it, and so I’ve included it underneath the cut. It’s a little rough because it’s been a LONG time since I sat down and properly wrote something, but I tried!

Enjoy!

Holy shit.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His manager was talking shit in his ear, prowling after him like fuck knows what, talking about “there’ll be backlash for this” and “not part of the plan”, and even “you’ve ruined your whole fucking career”. The usual stuff, really. Richie couldn’t bring himself to give a shit though, not right now. His heart was pounding ridiculously loud in his chest, blood rushing through him and making him feel dizzy – adrenaline mostly, but also some anxiety too.

Somehow he found himself in his backstage dressing room, manager still nagging him and furiously demanding answers. Pull it together, Tozier, pull it together.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” Brad hissed, slamming his hand down on the dressing table; the bottle of water next to the mirror topped slightly from the force of it. “This is a PR nightmare!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Richie said simply, giving a shrug. “What can I say, man? Gotta be true to myself.”

A vein seemed to throb in his manager’s forehead. “You just announced that you’re gay in front of hundreds of people, Richie, most of whom are within the demographic that are the least accepting of homosexuality! You think you’re the first gay person to be in this position? Because you’re fucking not, okay, there’s a reason PR is a thing! Your image is going to be ruined within just a few short hours of all of this!”

“So you want me to lie about it?” Richie snapped. “I’m done lying, okay? I’m done with the dumb girlfriend jokes, I’m done with the misogynistic shit that I’m having to recite, I’m fucking done! I shouldn’t be ashamed about this, it’s 2017 for fuck sake!”

“Alright, sure, it’s a more accepting time, but your fan base...in case it escaped your notice, you have a certain demographic, and it’s not ‘woke’ gay people. The people who came to your show tonight wanted to see the Richie Tozier they know and love, they wanted those jokes and that humor - not your life story and an impromptu coming out!”

“Well, tough shit to them - like I said, if I’m doing these shows, I’ll do it with my own jokes, not hiding who I am anymore.”

“Richie, it’s not that simple-”

There was a knock on the still-open door; a stagehand gawked at them, a little nervously, before clearing her throat. “Um… I’m sorry to interrupt, I… Well… These guests have VIP passes, and they wanted to see Rich- I mean, Mr Tozier right away.”

Behind her, Richie could see the rest of the Losers Club waiting awkwardly, clearly trying not to look at him or his manager. He cleared his throat and gave what he hoped was an at least somewhat polite nod. “Yeah, they’re friends of mine. Thank you. Brad,” He turned to his manager and gave him a meaningful look. “Some privacy please?”

Brad straightened his blazer but nodded too. “Of course. I have...things to try and fix. We’ll discuss this later, Richie.”

He waited until both the stagehand and his manager were out of earshot before gesturing for his friends to come into the dressing room; all of them looked nervous, clearly trying to pretend that they hadn’t overheard the argument, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind - he was just so glad to see them all right now.

“So…” He said, closing the door behind them and trying to look like he was holding it together. “What- What did you think?”

“You were great, Richie,” Bill said sincerely - and that seemed to make the others more comfortable too, judging by how they all started to smile and rush to embrace him.

“You did a wonderful job, Richie,” Beverly told him, giving him a squeeze and beaming at him. “You had us all laughing the entire show.”

Ben was grinning widely. “Far funnier than any of your old material, that’s for sure.”

“You were actually funny,” Stan said, though he was smiling fondly. “Never thought I’d say that, Trashmouth, but it’s true - if only you were that funny when we were kids.”

“Ha, fuck you too, Stan Urine,” Richie joked, but he was unable to stop himself from exhaling in relief. “I’m glad you all enjoyed the show - was kinda worried it wouldn’t get the same laughs as my old stuff.”

“Your old stuff was fake,” Mike brushed off, giving him a kind smile. “We could see it was really you up there, being yourself.”

Richie felt a little dazed by all the attention; he was briefly aware of Bill and Mike both patting him on the back, of Stan and Patty sharing a small laugh as they recounted something he’d said during the show, Audra congratulating him and saying how happy she was to finally meet all of her husband’s friends, Ben grinning widely, Beverly holding his arm and stating that she was so proud-

Eddie.

Fuck.

“Has anyone seen Eddie?” He blurted out, unable to stop himself. Everyone else fell into silence. “Oh shit. Fucking shit-”

“He just went out for some air,” Beverly said quickly, though she looked uncertain. “I think it’s just...a lot for him.”

“I gotta go find him,” Richie muttered, immediately heading for the door. “Fucking fuck...”

Ben’s arm stopped him before he could touch the handle. “Rich, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“No, I need to apologize to him, I need to explain-”

“Richie,” Bill said quietly. “You just said you’ve been in love with him since we were kids, in front of hundreds of people. Everyone will know by tomorrow, even if they weren’t at tonight’s show. It’s a lot for him to take in.”

Something anxious and vile reared up in Richie’s chest, making him feel like it was difficult to breathe. “I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked this up, oh fuck...I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Richie-”

“It’s okay, Richie, don’t panic-”

“Shit, what’s he gonna think?! Fuck, I’ve ruined our whole friendship, what the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“You haven’t fucked anything up, Richie.”

“Rich, please just breathe, okay?”

He was only somewhat aware of Beverly’s hand in his arm, gently pulling him over to the nearby chair and sitting him down. “Richie, honey, have some water and just focus on breathing, okay?”

Knowing he had no choice in the matter, he took a gulp from the water bottle she passed him, focusing on her voice and doing his best to push his fears away. Tonight was supposed to have been the opposite of this - he was supposed to be brave, to stand tall, to not be ashamed of who he was. Instead he was terrified, filled with regret and uncertainty.

A part of him was briefly aware of someone (Bill, he figured) saying they were going to find Eddie before stepping out of the room. A minute or so later, he noticed the others starting to filter out of his dressing room, muttering that they were going to give him some space to breathe and not overcrowd him - they’d wait for him outside. He could only hope that security had managed to get any fans waiting out back to go away - normally he didn’t mind signing autographs or saying hello to people, but after tonight’s show...no. He couldn’t.

You’ve really fucked this up, Tozier.

---

Beverly walked with him as they left, her presence welcome and calming; she didn’t speak, and he was grateful for that - he just knew that she understood, that she was on his side no matter what was to come. Then again, he was sure all the Losers would be there for him no matter what - they were like a family, he sometimes thought, a family of misfits and nobodies that found each other, found a group where they could be themselves.

Fuck, he loved his friends so much.

“You want me to drive?” Beverly asked finally when they reached the car park, looking around; the others were nearby, crowded together and talking amongst themselves. “Or do you have a limo these days, Mr Comedian?”

“Hilarious,” He said dryly. “No, but I have a driver sometimes. I can call him and tell him to head home for the night though.” 

They had nearly reached the others before Richie realized that all of his friends were there.

Eddie was there.

His throat closed up. No, no, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t-

“Eds,” Beverly said softly, giving him a kind smile.

Eddie gave a small nod, hands in his pockets and suddenly looking awkward. “Yeah… Erm… Hi, Richie.”

Everyone was silent. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife as they all debated what to do, none of them clearly sure of what to say in this situation. Richie tried to meet Eddie’s eye, only to find the other man staring at the floor resolutely; anxiety and worry gnawed at Richie’s insides at the sight. 

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of awkwardness, Mike cleared his throat and looked around at everyone. “How about we go grab a drink?” He prompted. “You know, to celebrate.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Mikey,” Bill sighed with relief, quickly glancing at Richie and Eddie. 

“We’re all booked in the same hotel, right?” Beverly decided quickly, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “How about we go for a drink at the bar? That way none of us need to worry about driving or trying to find our way home.”

The others murmured in agreement, though it was clear that things were still awkward. As they started to make their way out of the car park, Stan and Bill navigating and leading the way, Richie noticed Beverly’s hand leave his arm; before he could question her, however, he found himself face-to-face with Eddie - immediately his throat felt dry, voice mysteriously gone for once in his life.

“Richie.” Eddie’s expression was hard to read; he didn’t seem angry but he didn’t seem happy or pleased either, just...carefully neutral. “Look, we need to… We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Richie managed. “I guess so.”

Eddie hesitated for a second or two before turning to call to the others over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you guys there.”

None of the other Losers commented on this; instead, Bill merely nodded and gestured in the direction that they were heading. “Sure. Take your time.”

As soon as their friends were far away enough not to overhear, Eddie looked at Richie pointedly. “Is there somewhere private we can go or…?”

“Err… Dressing rooms might still be open?” 

“And we won’t be overheard?”

“No. I have a private dressing room, dude.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at this but gestured back towards the theatre. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, Trashmouth.”

Weirdly enough, the nickname made him feel more comfortable - it was almost like nothing had changed, like he didn’t just admit in front of hundreds of people that he was in love with this man, like he didn’t admit it in front of said man. For a moment, Richie allowed himself to think that everything would be fine; they’d talk it out, maybe be able to laugh it off, and it would be good. Not great, to be honest, but better than this hiding and lying.

---

Thankfully security had allowed him to go back to his dressing room, under the guise that he had “forgotten” something, and they didn’t ask about Eddie accompanying him - awkward questions would have made it much more humiliating for all parties involved, he thought. Richie wasted no time in opening the dressing room door to let Eddie in before closing and locking it for good measure, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Here, urgh… You take the chair, I can sit on the table,” He offered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie brushed off, crossing his arms and suddenly avoiding his eye. “I’m kinda too nervous to sit.”

“Oh. Thank fuck, me too.”

He noticed Eddie’s lips quirk upwards, as if he was trying not to let himself smile - that was definitely a good sign. He waited for the other man to speak first, partly to be fair but also because, frankly, he had no idea what to say.

“So… Congrats on coming out?” Eddie finally offered - and then they both burst into laughter. “Fuck, that sounds so dumb.”

“Yeah, but it’s kinda cute,” Richie chuckled before he could stop himself - and then he froze up again. “I mean… I don’t mean…”

Eddie seemed to realize what he meant and his smile faded. “Right. That.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Richie said quickly. “I should have told you in private or something, not on a fucking stage in a stand-up routine. I mean, I was going to imply that I’m gay as fuck, that was planned, but I wasn’t going to just put it out there like that, it just happened. And shit, I wasn’t even intending on saying all that about you, but I saw you sitting in the front row and… Jesus, Eddie, I just saw you laughing and I-”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupted, and the other man fell silent. “Look, man, this is all… Okay. Alright.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before speaking again. “What you said during the show about me…about how you feel...you meant it.”

Richie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

“Since we were kids?” Eddie continued, waiting for the other man to nod. “Okay… Richie, I swear to God, if this is some practical fucking joke or whatever - something for you to get laughs or make fun of me or whatever dumb shit goes through your head - then I will punch you in the face right fucking now.”

“What? No, no this isn’t a fucking joke!” Richie retorted, almost offended by this accusation. “You think I would say all that shit on-stage in front of hundreds of fucking people just for a joke?! Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, I know, I’m sorry, I just… It’s a lot to take in,” Eddie muttered. When his friend didn’t say anything, he cast a look at him, seeming to study his face, before sighing. “Rich, I’m not about to turn around and start screaming slurs at you just because you had a crush on me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I can see it on your face, dumbass. Richie,” He leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my friend - one of my best friends, actually. Nothing you say could make me hate you...well, not anymore than I do already.”

Richie gave a small, pained laugh, though the relief was evident on his face. “Right. Yeah. Thanks, Eds.”

For a long moment that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, neither of them said anything else; Eddie’s hand remained on Richie’s shoulder, the taller man just looking at him gratefully. There was still a nagging feeling within him, something eating up at his insides and wondering if Eddie was just hiding any anger or disgust, maybe he just didn’t want to ruin a good night; they still hadn’t really addressed the whole “hey, I’m in love with my best friend Eddie” thing either, that could be awkward-

“Me too.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

Eddie’s hand fell away, and he merely just shrugged as he looked away from Richie. “Me too. I’m...I’m gay.”

“Oh. Oh. Eddie…”

“During the divorce proceedings with Myra, I...I started to think,” He continued, almost to himself. “Actually, it was before that, before I even left Derry. I would hate myself, you know, for every time I looked at a cute guy too long, every time I thought they were handsome in their best clothes or whatever. I’d push it away because I’d think it was not okay, that I was being disgusting or dirty or…”

Richie was stunned by this, suddenly at a loss for words. “Dirty? Come on, dude, you’re like the cleanest asshole I know - there’s not a microbe of dirt or whatever the fuck on you.”

“Hilarious. Really.” But Eddie wasn’t smiling. “Look, ever since the day we...we defeated IT, I’ve thought about it. I have. I thought about you helping me out before that fucking nightmare of a house collapsed, thought about you dragging my ass to hospital and demanding I get immediate attention, about how brave you were that day. After that I decided that I wanted to be brave too - you made me want to be brave and stand up for myself.” He paused. “That sounds cheesey as fuck, I know, but it’s true. And tonight, when you were telling your own jokes, stuff you’d written and worked hard on, I realized it again - that I want to be brave. I don’t want to be scared to admit it.”

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. But there’s something else, Rich...the only person I told before now is Bev, and that’s because she guessed, you know? She could tell, but I also knew she’d listen and not judge.” He took a deep breath. “When I was in the hospital, every time I woke up, you were there - you refused to leave me. The others would be there too, usually taking turns, but you didn’t do that - you were always there. And before that, when we were stuck in that fucking thing’s lair, I saw you…” His voice failed for a moment, and he hurriedly looked away. “Fuck, Richie, you were under the deadlights and I...I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn’t bear it, Rich - I just couldn’t. I had to do something, I had to save you even if it meant putting myself in danger.”

“Well…” Richie wasn’t sure what to say - this wasn’t how he imagined this conversation going at all. “It worked. I’m not dead.”

“No, I know. But do you get what I’m trying to say, Richie?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Why I’m telling you all this?” 

“I dunno, man,” Richie said dazedly, trying not to get his hopes up - he couldn’t, he couldn’t let himself think one thing and be brought down when it was not true, not if he could help it. “This whole night has been a clusterfuck for me, and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not high and hallucinating right now.”

It wasn’t true - he hadn’t been high in nearly five years, and he’d given up excessive drinking after reuniting with the Losers. He knew Eddie knew that already, but it was the first excuse he found himself latching onto.

“Jesus Christ, Richie.” The smaller man rolled his eyes but remained otherwise serious. “I’m trying to say that I’ve...I’ve liked you since we were kids too. Loved you, actually. God knows why since you’re an idiot who annoys the shit out of me, but damn it, I love you, Richie Tozier.”

“…Fuck.”

“I was never going to tell you,” Eddie admitted, folding his arms and looking rather uncomfortable. “Even though I decided I was going to try to be brave, that I wasn’t going to keep up with a sham of a marriage, I thought that you weren’t…you know. And I thought that even if you were, then I’d be the last one you’d want to be with.” Strangely, he gave a smile. “Fucking dumb, right?”

Richie nodded. “Very fucking dumb. Jesus, Eddie, do you not see the way I’ve been looking at you? Fuck, there’s been days you’ve given me boners in public just because I was thinking about you.”

“Urgh, too much information, asshole,” Eddie huffed – but the affection behind it was obvious, his facial expression softening. “So…where does this leave us, Richie? What happens next?”

“Next?” Richie considered this. “Well, being honest, I’d love to take you out and do this shit properly, but…”

“But?”

He hesitated, giving the other man a surprisingly serious look. “But that’s your choice – if you wanna stay friends, I respect that.”

To his surprise, Eddie huffed before stepping forwards; before Richie could say anything else, he was being kissed firmly on the mouth, hands cupping his face and pulling him close. He wasted no time in closing his eyes and kissing him back, his heart soaring as his entire body came alive.

For the first time all night, the panic and anxiety that had set him on edge flowed away completely: all he felt was exhilaration and relief – and love, love for this man in his arms. Suddenly it didn’t matter about what anyone else thought – whether ‘fans’ would send him hate online, how this could impact his entire career, his manager hounding him with how much he’d regret this – because none of it was important, not as important as this, as finally being able to hold the person he loved, who he’d always loved, and being able to be open with himself as well as those closest to him.

Yeah, Richie thought to himself blissfully, he didn’t regret his decision in the slightest.

[mrsgiovanna]

Nostalgia

A bit of a drawn out scenario, slightly angsty as the reader fights with certain emotions, the beginnings of Don Giorno x reader relationship.

TW: mentions of injuries, part 5 spoilers,

Nostalgia is a strange phenomenon. Sometimes it can fill you with warm, comforting memories that imbue you with joy, other times it can instill a heavy melancholy that refuses to be shaken. You had been going back and forth between these two states ever since that bizarre week had changed the course of your life just over 3 years ago.

Septembers in Italy were beautiful, the sweltering summer heat begins to mellow out for milder temperatures and an amber glow starts to tint the atmosphere. Today, however, was especially important to you. September 27th… Bruno’s birthday… As you sit in front of your vanity mirror, adding the finishing touches to your outfit for the day, you can’t help but reminisce about the all the different things Bruno taught you as you were growing up. He was the one who taught you how to braid your hair and encouraged you to be a bit less abrasive in your mannerisms. It’s funny when you think about it, but you were groomed into a lady by the most elegant man you’d ever known.

You had first met Bruno when you were 10 years old after taking the initiation test with Polpo. You were forced into an impossible situation, and joining Passione was the only way to survive. Being among the younger members under Polpo’s control meant that you had encountered Bruno on a number of missions. At first you found him so vexing with his perfectly cut hair and neat, fashionable clothes. You on the other hand could have easily been mistaken for a street urchin had it not been for your naturally pretty face and sparkly eyes. An unlikely friendship had bloomed between you and the serene boy, and it wouldn’t be long before you both started to treat each other as siblings. Your heart was always unclouded when you followed Bruno, so you made a promise to yourself to protect him at all costs.

As the years went on, you’d trained with your stand to get stronger. Yours was one that comprised of two acts, the first awakened after you were impaled by the stand arrow during Polpo’s test, and the second, when you and Bruno were on a particularly dangerous mission. You had both somehow underestimated your enemy… You just remember being engulfed by a sea of red, not realizing that it was flowing from you. You watched the enemy stand user move towards Bruno, and your broken body moved before you could even think and landed the finishing blow in one graceful action. A few days later you woke up in a complete daze to a rather angry faced Bruno who reluctantly told you what had happened. You had hoped your poor condition would be enough of a deterrent for the scolding you knew you were about to receive, but luck was not on your side… After that day Bruno silently vowed to keep you safe.

One by one Bruno recruited members for his unit, stitching together a group of misfits into the family you had grown to love. You shared a special bond with each of them- they were the band of brothers you so desperately wanted. It was a shame it didn’t last longer…

You were jolted out of your reverie by the shrill ring of your cellphone. You didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know it was Giorno. You contemplated taking the call, but you felt a bit fragile, and knew that if he had heard how you had sounded, he’d want to go to visit Bruno’s grave with you. Aware of the fact that if he couldn’t get a hold of you, he’d just come to look for you, you reluctantly ignored the call and placed the cellphone in your bag, continuing with readying yourself for the day. You just needed a bit of time to visit Bruno on your own first.

You’d finished off the braid running over the side of your head with a familiar gold clip, and fastened a peculiar looking necklace with a golden zipper hanging from it around your neck. Usually donning these accessories when you needed comfort, it was days like these, the nostalgia ridden days in which comfort was what you needed the most. Giving yourself a quick once over in the full length mirror that was mounted next to the entrance of your room you decided you had done enough and it was time for you to head out.

The first thing you were greeted with when you stepped outside your apartment building was the luxurious black car waiting for you, sent by Giorno no doubt. Slightly grimacing, you gracefully climbed in expecting to find him there but the car was empty save for your driver and the guard who took up the front end. The young Don did, however, leave a large bouquet of white flowers for you to take with you as an offering. It seems with the ignored call, he had gotten the message. You didn’t understand why you still needed a guard. Over the years since Giorno had become Don, he had taken you off all dangerous missions, and recently, you hadn’t been sent on any missions at all... Looking at the beautiful flowers, some types you hadn’t even seen before, you were certain that Giorno created them with his stand ability, and was suddenly overcome with a pang of guilt, almost certain that your actions had slighted your boss. You had a complex relationship with Giorno. You were both the same age, and when he first joined Passione, you were intrigued by him... he seemed so much more mature than you were- it left you wondering what were the circumstances that had forged him in this manner. He was an incredibly handsome young man, and every time he had spoken to you, or had spoken in general, you had felt your face heat up. If only those warm, fluttery feelings could have lasted…

You didn’t blame him for losing your friends, you could honestly say, you never really did blame him at all, he was, unfortunately, an easy target for your wrath and sorrow because everything had spiraled out of control after his arrival, almost as if he was the catalyst. So in his first months as the Don, not only did he have to deal with reforming Passione, but with your ruthless insults as well, much to your chagrin though, he handled both of those challenges with the grace of a prince. After some time you had realized you were selfishly focusing on your own loss, not registering the fact that Giorno, Mista and Trish had all lost these people as well, and were all processing their feelings.

You resolved to apologize to Giorno, and he was gracious enough to accept without going further into it. With that you allowed yourself to get closer to him, and it wouldn’t be long before you realized that his convictions were as noble and selfless as could be.

You had finally arrived at the site. Slowly walking towards the beautiful headstone you laid the bouquet in front of it and sat on the soft grass beside his grave, just staring at the lettering on the ornate stone for a few moments. Saying a silent prayer, you could only hope that Bruno was at peace, and that he was watching over you all, hopefully with pride rather than disappointment.

Time had flown by, and you only noticed that the light was slowly starting to fade when a cold wind had ripped through the area. Hugging yourself to keep warm you stood up and gave his resting spot one last glance before you could turn to leave, which was proving more difficult than you thought, feeling the tears sting the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

Giorno knew that you were purposefully ignoring his attempts to contact you, so he gave you the space you needed. He wasn’t sure when his feelings for you intensified, but he was aware that the things he did for you went well beyond his sense of duty towards Bucciarati. He could understand why you wanted to keep your distance, and he convinced himself that assuring your safety and loving you from afar would be okay, but the cracks in his resolve revealed themselves every time he spoke to you. For all intents and purposes, he was going to let you have this day to yourself, but when he called the driver who was still waiting for you, and found out that you were still at Bruno’s grave, he had to go after you. He grabbed his coat, knowing that you’d probably be freezing in the nippy evening air and decided to drive himself to you.

When he got to you, it was as he expected, you were holding yourself as you stood up from your spot. Your shoulders trembled, although he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the emotions swirling around in your mind… no matter, he got out of the car and made his way towards you.

Suddenly, you felt something warm envelop you. The feint scent of expensive cologne was familiar to you and when you turned around to meet intense emerald eyes looking at you, you knew why.

“Cara… I was unsure of whether to come… I just wanted to make sure you were okay… Well as okay as can be expected on a day like this.”

The gentle quality of his voice was so soothing, you wanted to reply that you were fine and that he didn’t have to worry about you, but your words were trapped in your throat as Giorno raised his hand to your face to wipe away a few tears that had betrayed you.

Noticing how you battled to choke back your sobs, Giorno spoke. “It’s okay to let it out. Get it out of your system so you can heal. I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through in your life, but I do know that you’re pretty special to have won over everyone… even Abbacchio”.

He was shocked to hear your soft laughter. He looked down at you to see the most beautiful smile blossom on your face. You didn’t mean to laugh at him, you were just reminded of the exchanges between Abbacchio and Giorno and couldn’t help but laugh at the memories, or the fact that Don Giovanna still seemed perturbed by them.

“Come on cara, it’s starting to get dark and cold, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything all day. Mista, Trish and Fugo are waiting for us at Libeccio… Come, I won’t take no for an answer, ” Giorno said as he extended his hand to you. You looked up to see him smiling at you, and a sense of solace washed over you. You weren’t sure if it was his gentle demeanor or the way the setting sun illuminated his golden curls like a halo, but your heart felt at ease for the first time in years. You took his hand, silently returning his smile. The warmth kept growing within you, it was familiar, and a comforting reminder of happier times.

[gingermintpepper]

100 million years ago, I sent an ask to @nostalgicbookworm

requesting headcanons about a High School AU and after a ridiculous amount of time, I've finally gotten around to writing some stuff for it. It's Drolxinia centric, naturally.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"I like you."

Is what he said, the scarlet of his hair a curtain that blocked the sunset from Drole's relaxed eyes. His honey coloured eyes gleamed gold, cherubic face scrunched awkwardly as usually delicate lips frowned in earnest concentration. And, in the end, that was what tipped him over the edge. The earnesty.

Gloxinia was a creature of cold smiles and borderline cruel words, a perfect blend of wintry disposition and welcoming charisma. He was rarely straight forward, a faerie's trickster nature given human flesh and forced to abide by mortal man's nonsensical laws and Drole accepted this easily. For all his contradiction, Gloxinia was passionate and where it counted, more dependable than even the ever rising sun.

So when met with a pale face twisted in genuine effort; vulnerability and ill-fitting openness blatant in the trembling of tiny fingers which valiantly clung to the empty packet of sunflower seeds, Drole did what any surprised yet undeniably relaxed person would do.

Drole laughed.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

He knew he was wrong but Gloxinia was not an easy person to apologise to.

He made himself scarce almost immediately, jumping off the roof and sliding down the guttering to save face then presumably running all the way home. It all transpired so quickly that Drole barely understood what happened, nevermind formulating an adequate response quickly enough to de-escalate the situation. His friend was smart though, he'd chosen Friday afternoon to make his confession and each call Drole made to him that night went straight to voicemail.

It wasn't that Drole...didn't like him.

In fact, he's pretty certain that he's been in love with Gloxinia since they were in primary school and the spitfire had defended him from a group of bullies. The image of bright bright vermillion had been burned into his vision that day, the tiny child who looked so frail that the girls all whispered that he was a doll whenever he left class with his back arched and scowl fierce. He'd let out a battle cry unlike anything Drole had ever heard and leapt at the biggest bully to scratch and spit at him. Naturally, he'd been beaten as well (bare fists weren't exactly a match for chairs and sticks especially not when those fists were about as large as a first year's), but they'd ended up laughing about it in the nurse's office later.

They'd been inseparable since then, Gloxinia a whirlwind of red hair and sharp fists while Drole contentedly stood by his side. Two misfits facing the world. David and his Goliath. Drole could've died happy if things had stayed that way - he never was a being particularly fond of change. Even after they'd joined secondary school, Gloxinia had continued to be a bit of a terror in his own right, too charismatic for people to be rightfully frightened of him yet too unapproachable for him to actually make friends. Drole's appearance kept the faint of heart away but his quiet disposition meant that even the brave found him uninteresting company. Gloxinia was the only one who accepted him entirely. The only one who had never been disappointed with Drole's truths. He'd accepted that Drole wished to dance instead of fight or play sports, he'd accepted that Drole was happiest in the middle of the botanical gardens on a cloudless summer afternoon, that flowers and butterflies and other childish symbols brought him peace.

He was the only one who understood everything Drole stood for - had stood by his side resolutely through every battle and struggle and Drole had laughed at his confession.

He sighed. No matter how he thought about it, he was unequivocally in the wrong.

"You could always apologise, you know?"

An unimpressed violet eye glared past his veil of brunet locks. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten all about Diane's weekly check-in which, naturally, led to the girl squeezing her way through his perpetually open kitchen window when she found the front and back doors locked.

Drole wasn't... upset at her appearance. Diane was excellent company, one of the newer members of the school's dance team, trained in both ballet and contemporary. Her energy was infectious and she was surprisingly sharp when she wasn't pretending to be a pure maiden from one of her endless fairy tales. She'd taken one look at Drole's ragged countenance and had firmly planted herself on his couch, tea clasped in her dainty hands as she tapped the open cushion next to her in invitation.

Even though Drole hadn't any intention of divulging his troubles to another soul - he had gotten himself into this problem, he would see himself out - somehow, Diane had managed to pry almost everything out of him before he had drained even half of his warm milk.

"Gloxinia doesn't want to talk to me."

Diane hummed, her cup long drained of whatever spicy smelling drink she'd concocted in his kitchen. Her hands were busy twisting his too long hair into something presentable, part of her plan to cheer him up no doubt. "That's fair," she said eventually, voice light even as her thin eyebrows scrunched in concentration, "I wouldn't want to talk to the jerk who laughed at my confession either."

He stifled another sigh. "It was an accident-"

"Doesn't matter!"

His fingers dug into the textured cloth of his upholstered couch, anxiety returning to gnaw at his stomach lining. He'd spent all night replaying the moment in his head in-between calling and texting Gloxinia like some obsessive ex-partner. He felt plenty bad without Diane continuously reminding him that he'd messed up. "Must you continue to bring that up?"

Agile fingers stilled, the warmth of her hands almost uncomfortable against his ear. She grew quiet beside him and Drole cautioned a look in her direction, freezing as he noticed the rueful smile on her face. "Diane-?"

"Sorry," she said and her fingers suddenly double in pace as they make short work of the remnants of the plait she'd been braiding, "I don't mean to beat a dead horse or anything, it's just--I feel sorry for him." Her hands drop and she pulls them close to her chest, bowing her head in a melancholy turn of events, "I can't imagine how I'd feel if I confessed to the guy I liked and he laughed at me."

With a huff, Drole uncurled his hand from the back of the couch to pat Diane's head. It didn't take a genius to figure out where her mind was and Drole wasn't about to let her get lost in her insecurities, "Harlequin wouldn't."

The blush that spread across her face was immediate. Somehow, she grabbed a pillow and ineffectively smacked Drole's stomach with it, mood shifting drastically again, "Why would you bring King into this?! I-I'm just speaking hypothetically!"

He weathered the pillow assault with a placid expression, waiting for her to work her wayward emotions out so they could continue speaking like normal people. Eventually she calms, hugging the pillow to her chest and pouting at his relaxed nature, "Anyway, that's why you need to fix things."

Drole blinked.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "You have to give your juniors hope! Everyone at school already thinks you and Gloxinia are dating, y'know! If you let things break apart now then everyone's gonna take that as an omen."

Now that...was certainly news to him. He couldn't recall any particular instance where his peers gave the impression that they thought he was gay. Then again, given the wide berth most students gave him, Drole supposed he didn't talk to enough people for that to be a provable truth. As for Gloxinia, he'd been turning down over eager confessions from both boys and girls since form one. He'd actually managed to gain a bit of a reputation for being unattainable which--and Drole clearly remembers this particular lamentation--only proved to make him more desirable.

Drole thought it was fair though. To call Gloxinia beautiful was to understate his beauty. Everything about him from his royal attitude to the neatness of his appearance to the way his secret smiles would reveal the cutest dimples on his chin and cheeks - it was all a certain degree of perfect. Thinking about him made his chest heat up, made him ache to call him again. He wanted to run his fingers through Gloxinia's pretty hair again, wanted to laugh at his dark jokes and feel the wind on his skin as they sat for late evening picnics. He wanted Gloxinia's hands pressed against his neck as those smart fingers braided flowers into his thick hair. He just wanted Gloxinia.

"I just want to fix this," he mumbled.

Diane grew silent for a moment. Drole closed his eye, tried to lean his head against the backrest of the couch and let out a stiff exhale as his head connected with the hard wall instead.

"What about Gerheade?"

Drole frowned. Gloxinia's sister was not a force to be taken lightly. He'd tried calling her the minute he realised that Gloxinia wouldn't be picking up his calls but instead of being met with her usual sweet voice, chips of ice had whispered into his ear and had firmly warned him against trying to bother her brother again. He shook his head, not bothering to pull himself up from the wall, "She hates me now too."

Diane chuckled, "That's impossible! Gerheade's too sweet for something like that-"

He caught her eyes, voice chilled, "It's the truth."

She sighed, finally seeming to understand the depth of the hole Drole had inadvertently dug himself into, "How will you apologise then?"

A non-commital shrug met her question, listless eye stuck to the blue phone laying innocently on the coffee table. He'd bothered the both of them enough to last the weekend and he knew Gloxinia enough to understand that he'd never be able to meet him on his own turf. He'd hate to do it, but the only option left to him was to wait and pray that Gloxinia's temper would subside come next week. "We'll talk. Eventually." He furrowed his brows at how unbothered that made him sound, "Monday."

Diane frowned, "Do you think he'll be willing to talk with you by then? Gloxinia's pretty..."

Petty. Prone to holding grudges. Unreasonable.

"It'll work out."

[spectrumed]

10. contact

The key to success is networking. Oh, God, how am I ever going to succeed? Networking? Talking to other people? Making friends? That’s not me, that’s not me at all. I don’t want to make superficial connections with other people just so that I can one day use my connections to get ahead in life. I don’t want to force myself on others, trying to convince them that I am some decent guy that’s totally worth getting to know and be friends with. I don’t know if you’re going to like me or not. I imagine some people would like to be my friend, and I imagine some people would hate to be my friend. I’d rather just forget about the latter group, and not torture myself trying to make friends with people who are fundamentally at odds who I am as a person. I’d rather have a small circle of close friends than a thousand acquaintances. But the key to success is networking.

I’ll never be an insider. This is not me just doubting myself, not some decision to undermine myself. I know that making statements about things that are impossible for you to achieve comes across as very self-defeating, but I know that I will never be an insider. I will never fit into a social clique. I am not going to be part of the boys’ club, yucking it up with my mates. I’m not going to be in any gangs, no bands, most certainly no crews. I am a solo-player. I prefer to work on my own. All my life, I’ve kept to myself, one way or another. I don’t ask for help. Growing up, my sister used to get a lot of help from my mother with school assignments, because she wanted it and she asked for it. My sister and my mother would spend a lot of time together making sure that my sister’s schoolwork turned out well. Looking over spelling, fixing grammatical errors, making sure that the text was easy to read and had a flow to it. Normal parental stuff, really. Kids are supposed to get help from their parents, it’s part of the learning process, no-one gets by all on their own. Well, except for me. I never asked for help.

I actually found it really unbearable to have my mother look over my schoolwork to see if I made any errors. Not because I am such a horrid narcissist that I refuse to admit that there were any errors, but rather because… well, it felt invasive. Like as if you spot someone spying on you through your window. It made me feel very self-conscious, in a way that I realise now is similar to how I feel when I make eye contact. Yes, I am bad at making eye contact, especially when I am speaking at the same time. I don’t mind making eye contact when you are speaking, but I don’t want to make eye contact with you when I am speaking. Is that funny? Is that odd? Well, the way I feel about it is that eye contact is intimate, it’s almost like touching. It’s mental touching. If you share eye contact with somebody you are sharing a connection. You are mind-touching each other. Oh, well… I guess that maybe it’s not quite like that, but I still don’t find it easy.

At times, I find much of the discussions about neurodiversity online somewhat off-putting. Especially when it comes to those people who are really keen on being all out positive, all the time. Those people who see any shade of negativity as outright hazardous. Don’t bring up the fact that being neurodivergent can be difficult, don’t mention the difficulties that come with being on the autism spectrum. Engage with self-empowerment! Celebrate what makes you different! Go out there and be proud of yourself, be happy about your autism, it is cool to be autistic! And, sure, I understand the importance of injecting optimism into the neurodivergent community. We need optimism, we need to profess our desire to be happy, to show the world that you don’t need to be neurotypical to be content with your life. No-one wants to be around a sourpuss just wallowing in their discontentment. But, sometimes things just suck, okay? Having a positive attitude may project confidence, may make others think you’ve got it together, but be wary when that positive attitude just becomes a mask you hide behind.

Look, we live in a society. Whether you like it or not, you live in a society. We need to rage against this society, because this society is no good. Things may look good to some people, but those people are wrong, and I am right. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Let’s have ourselves a little revolution and see if we can piece a new society together, one that doesn’t commit to the same mistakes as the last one. Oh, wait, how do we do that? And how do we make sure that we win the revolution, we could easily lose, and that might actually just make things worse for us. What if this society we live in got even worse? Yikes, that’s a thought too scary to even really consider. Can things get worse? I don’t want things to get worse. Maybe I just shouldn’t rock the boat. Let’s calm down, and let’s not make any rash decisions here. We can overthrow society at some other point. For now, let’s just have some tea.

Yes, society stinks, but what can you do about it? It is absolutely the case that neurotypical people have it easier navigating modern society than neurodivergent people. Others expect you to function just like they function. If you wish to fit in, you are required to act more neurotypical. People expect that from you. Learn to adapt, to hide amongst them. Trick them. Make them think you are one of them. Be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. They’ll never know the truth of who you are. An outsider that managed to get on the inside. You stand by the watercooler, and by gosh, you make yourself laugh at their jokes even though you’d rather not be there at all. You partake in the small talk, talking about the weather, feigning interest in the footballs, and pretending to be an all-around wholesome compatriot. You’re not at all secretly some kind of anti-social misfit, who’d rather stay at home sitting behind a monitor and playing strategy games on your own. Do you want to come and join your workmates for a drink or two later? Oh, yes, of course you’d like that, but you might need to limit your alcohol intake so that you don’t get too drunk and begin to let the mask slip. It’s too easy getting into hyper-specific rants about obscure topics no normal person would care about when you’re inebriated, so let’s not risk that.

“Be yourself.” Pfth, bah, humbug. Neurotypicals love to state empty platitudes. You don’t want me to be myself. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to be myself. Call me a cynic all you want, but you can’t get nowhere in life simply by being yourself. For better or worse, authenticity is nowhere near as desired as some people make it out to be. Name a single really successful person who is truly themselves. Fake-authenticity does better than the real deal. True sincerity, of the kind that’s naked, shameless, ugly, and challenging, it is difficult to love. And that’s not all bad, it’s just a fact of life. We all need to cover some things about ourselves up, and need to keep some secrets, because that is what is expected from us. Just as we wear clothes to cover up our naked bodies. No shame on the nudists, they’re free to embrace whatever alternative lifestyle they want, but I don’t want to see your naked body. Don’t get nude in front of me. I already struggle with eye contact, I sure wouldn’t struggle less if you stood in front of me nude as well.

Actually, to a certain extent, these social rules we all conform to can actually be quite appreciated by those of us who are on the spectrum. It is easier to know what you must do in a formal social situation than in a casual social situation. Casual people, they’re just so… unpredictable. Sticking their casual bits everywhere, acting like guests at your house who don’t seem to understand that your home is not their home. Even as a kid I hated having friends of mine over at my place. They’d play with my toys, place my toys where they don’t belong, or even worse, they may break some of my toys. Don’t touch that, it’s mine. Don’t put your icky hands on my bed, I sleep there. Don’t rip pages out of that book, it’s my favourite book. Don’t breathe in my room, I breathe in my room. I just can’t handle you coming here and disturbing the peace. I had it all ordered, I knew where everything was, and I liked it. Now you brought with you the forces of chaos, and dealing with that is just now what I had in mind for today.

I could never be a freemason. Sure, I have some good ideas for how to secretly rule the world, but if you’re a freemason, you’re expected to be part of the team. There’s no “I” in freemasonry. The secret cabal that controls all of the world’s governments, they don’t want independent folks like me to show up thinking that I can do my work assignments on my own. The Illuminati is run by a committee. You don’t get far in that world by being some freewheeling bohemian incapable of getting along with others. You don’t establish a New World Order by promoting self-reliance. Institutions are great for those who like to get chummy with their pals, the gregarious sorts who know exactly who to talk to in order to advance in the ranks. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Favours for favours. One of the reasons why I inherently distrust many institutions is because they are rife with nepotism. You know that whoever gets to sit on the high council of the Illuminati didn’t get there via competency alone. No, they knew a guy, who was cousins with this other guy, who used to work for this guy, and y’know, you pull one string and suddenly there you are on top of the social hierarchy. Most often people get promoted, not because they do good work, but because they happen to know the right people. But again, maybe I’m just being cynical.

I’ve had a recurring fantasy, in the past, of being a lighthouse keeper. Living out somewhere all on my own, not having to deal with any human relationships. Maybe I could befriend a seagull, but even that seems a little too much. Seagulls can be very needy. No, I’d just get on with whatever I’d most like to be doing, writing or making art, just enjoying my solitude. I imagine that the toughest thing about being a lighthouse keeper is the loneliness, but the loneliness is only a plus for me. I’ve long ago decided to like being lonely. I don’t want to face the fact that I too yearn for company, I like to pretend as if I am fine with being alone. So the fantasy of being a lighthouse keeper is perfect for me, I could get far away from society and I could earn a living not having to give a fuck about what others think about me. I could allow myself to get as weird as I would want to get, not having to wash my image, acting like I’m all rational and well-adjusted. It would just be me and my seagull. How simple life would be. Too bad I think most lighthouses are automated, these days.

Maybe being the perpetual malcontent cynic incapable of fitting with mainstream society isn’t all so bad. In some regards, I have made that my brand. Generally, I like to think that I don’t take myself too seriously, but like a lot of people, I’ve turned those edgier parts of my personality into armour that I wear to protect myself from the scorn of others. You can’t accuse me of being a miserable piece of shit when I’ve decided to make being a miserable piece of shit my thing. It’s what I am, and I am not going to change. I’m not really all that mean, or nasty. I am fairly cynical, but I don’t act like some asshole. I don’t think anyone is upset with me for how I act. I’ve only occasionally gotten told off for being too gloomy. But the problem here does not lie with how I end up treating others, but rather how I end up treating myself. I don’t want to make cynicism part of my sense of self. I don’t want to be this person, this misanthrope who only sees problems, and never celebrates the good things in life. I should engage with self-empowerment. I should be happy.

It’s okay being neurodivergent! Sure, you may find other people strange or foreign, with their yapping mouths and their over-eager desire to look you directly in the eyes, but just ignore them! Neurotypicals are just so last century, the future is all neurodivergent! You’re on the right side of history, bud! You’re cool, and radical, and you’re absolutely a sexy little cupcake. You either learn to love yourself, or you lose yourself. Make funny memes, find some online community to be a part of. You can absolutely be a freemason if you want to be a freemason. Don’t let your diagnosis get in your way, so long as you’ve got that inner fire driving you, you can be anything you want to be. Go ahead and rule the world, babe. Remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and right now, it’s good vibes only.

[yeojaa]

one of those nights.

prompt:  “i can't stop thinking about your mouth, and it's driving me nuts.”

not only does @hobi-gif​​ send wonderful prompts, she also beta reads like nobody’s business.  so enjoy this, even though...  i lost steam halfway through.  xoxo!

pairing.  kth x f!reader.  rating.  um, i would say general but tae talks about his dick.  tags.  there’s no angst here and not any smut, either, so i’d say.. fluff?  a bit of crack?  essentially, tae is shameless and we all love it.  wc.  0.8k.

You’ve known Kim Taehyung for the better part of three years - which is to say, you’d like to think you know him fairly well.  

You know how he takes his coffee or rather, how he prefers a cup of tea to the bitterness of espresso and ground beans.  You know how much he loves his dog, an adorable little fluffball with a whole lot of attitude (just like his owner).  You know he wears the same stupid slides whenever he can get away with it, only trading them for expensive loafers - equally old man shoes - when he really needs to.  You know all of this and more because you run in the same circle and spend more time with him than your own silence.  

And yet, nothing’s prepared you for tonight and this very strange situation.

⁠”—it’s driving me nuts.”  He doesn’t slur because he isn’t drunk, unlike the rest of your ragtag group of friends.  He’s one hundred percent sober, tasked with being designated driver and nursing a milkshake like it’s not weird that he’s ordered one.

(He had always marched to the beat of his own drum.)

You nearly sputter into your beer - a tasty cherry-infused sour that tingles your tongue and reminds you of your grandmother’s farm.  The foam top marks the edge of your mouth, bubbles eating away at the stain you’d meticulously applied at the start of the night.  “I think I misheard you.”  

“No, you definitely heard me right.”  It rolls off his tongue so easily, formed with confidence that only comes from being handsome and knowing it.  He flicks runaway strands from his eyes but doesn’t tear them from yours, holding your gaze so steady you feel almost like he’s seeing right through you.  “I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.”

How he manages to drop that on you in the middle of Balthazar’s with your friends sitting right beside you, you’re not sure.  It feels far too clandestine - and you weren’t even a prude.  Far from it, in fact.  

Probably one of the reasons you were now in this situation anyway.

“If I didn’t have to drive these idiots home, we could leave.”  There’s a hint of disappointment in his tone, irritation peeking around syllables like thorns.  You know it isn’t anything to worry about - he’d never leave your group of misfits to foot an overly expensive Uber home - but it still fizzles something funny in your stomach.  

“Don’t be weird,”  you chide, not very loudly and without looking at him.  Instead, you focus on the coaster holding your glass;  the poor piece of cardboard dissolves before your eyes, torn into shreds by hot hands.

“What?”  Dressed in Sunday whites and wide, imploring eyes, the question comes so casually you almost think it’s innocent.  Then the rest follows - along with a warm, wandering pressure on your bare knee - and you almost choke.  “Shouldn’t you be happy I can’t stop thinking about you choking on my cock?”

Liquid goes down the wrong pipe and you slam your glass down with alarming force.  Across the table, Jungkook turns from his unabashed, intoxicated ogling of the girl behind the bar to give you an inquisitive look. He whips back around the moment you’re returning it with a glare.

Even drunk, he knows better than to get involved in whatever the hell is going on.

“Tae!”  You hiss it under your breath, alcohol fuelling frustration like kerosene on a fire.   

The brunet at your side snickers, mouth rounding into that disarming grin of his.  The hand on your leg squeezes tight, fingers pressing incrementally into the pliant flesh of your inner thigh.  He’s utterly shameless even as you feel the neatly trimmed edge of his nails digging crescents until it burns.  “What?”

“We’re in public.”

“So?”

His blasé response shouldn’t surprise you.  Like a modern day Dionysus - and not just because he had the sculpted features of a Greek god - there was very little that Taehyung didn’t indulge in.  If he wanted something, he took it.  To him, things weren’t to be enjoyed in half measures or with any sort of decorum;  they were wholly consumed or not at all.

You’d learnt that the hard way when this had all started two weeks ago, a result of one too many drinks (you) and unrelenting bedroom eyes (him).  

Just one drunk kiss and now you were stuck in some sort of Bacchanalian affair.  

“Can you at least wait?”  You’re demanding patience through gritted teeth, meeting his heavy-lidded stare with as much strength as your poor self can muster.  

The sigh he answers with is terribly exasperated and full-on exaggerated, paired with a roll of his eyes.  It stokes the fire burning in your stomach - the same heat that slithers everywhere his hand touches because he still hasn’t let go.  Doesn’t seem like he plans on it either as he resorts to rubbing soothing, featherlight circles over your thigh.  

“Fine.  You’re no fun.”  You don’t have to be a psychic to read between the lines:  it doesn’t mean he can’t have his fun. 

You suppose it isn’t the worst price to pay.