#i wasn’t even a tommy fan back then i just had no fear

[primeduo]

one time like two or three years ago someone on twitter drew tommy as a cookie run character and it was getting mass qrted so i had a bright idea and i qrted the art with “cookie run stans qrting this need to stop worrying about tommyinnit as a cookie and focus on their gambling addiction” and someone qrted MY tweet with “you ship real people and write fanfics of them” and in the thread attached a photo of my non-binary dream fic (my most popular fic) and they got over 2k likes ratioing me to the power of ten so yeah that’s one of my top five moments of shame on twitter anyway i’ll have a number five with a small vanilla milkshake and a

[cherry-coloureddfunk]

And When You Move, I'm Moved, joel miller

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ daddy kink, p in v, riding, dirty talk, soft joel, hurt & comfort if you squint, praise kink, use of pet names ( baby girl, sweet girl, etc )

it's past christmas but I had this idea and fell in love with it and procrastination will be the death of me...

The night seemed to drag on forever.

It was almost 12:35, and Joel hadn’t come home yet— a broken promise that he had whispered in the morning, with a kiss to the tip of your nose, crossing his heart that he’d be back in time to hold you once more and open presents.  

Supplies were running low in Jackson, including penicillin and other medications that would be useful for a rainy day. Selfishness claws at the edges of your thoughts each time he has to go, a relentless whisper that begs him to stay—to choose the warmth of home and the safety of you over the unknown out there. It gnaws at your resolve, urging you to tell him to forget about the world, to let it fend for itself, and to stay here where it’s quiet, where it’s just the two of you.

Instead, you put your heart’s desires to rest, giving him a meek nod as you kissed the lips, which you came to know as your own goodbye. It wasn’t fair. However, nothing was ever fair when it came to your Joel.

At his core, your Joel was a giver— the kind of man who would give until his knees buckled from beneath him, and even then you were sure he’d pour what little remained of himself into the world. He bled for you, his devotion etched in every sacrifice he made, and though he’d never admit it, he bled for Jackson too, an unspoken loyalty for the town he called your home. 

So if Jackson needed something, Tommy and him were always the first ones to act. 

And all you could do was wait.

But the worst part wasn’t waiting. It wasn’t the fear of hypotheticals or counting every star in the sky and praying on each one that he’d be alright. It was the knowing. Knowing that one day your Joel might not find his way back into the safety of your embrace. That one day, the fucked up world around you might win. And it was as obvious to you as it was to those around you— you wouldn’t be able to endure that. The possibility of leading a life without him because to you, he is the world.

 Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him. 

You shift subconsciously on the bed, hands gripping the white sheets, a desperate attempt to ground yourself from this nightmare. You wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up in his arms, the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck— a tangible reminder that he was yours. You longed to trace the outline of his nose with your eyes like you always did when he was fast asleep next to you— not wanting to surrender to sleep because that would mean another moment spent without him. 

And yet, somehow, even in sleep, you still dreamt of him. Always him.

Then, amid the deafening silence that accompanied the dark, the door creaked open slowly. You blinked in an attempt to focus on the figure that lingered in the doorway. It stepped through, gently shutting the door behind, and you saw him— Joel, Your Joel. 

The exhaustion on his face doesn’t go unnoticed; bright eyes now sunken, and the pink plush lips you had kissed in the morning were red and irritated, no doubt from the harsh weather. Eyes bloodshot from fighting sleep. 

“Joel…” You could finally breathe, rushing to your feet. You leaped out of bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pressing your face against his jacket's material, you felt his heart's rhythmic beat. He was here. He was safe.

“M’okay.” He soothed, lips brushing the top of your head as his arms came around you, “M’here, baby. M’here.”

You guide him to sit at the edge of your bed, standing between his legs as they rest on either side of you. He reaches out slowly, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap by habit. Once you’re there, you get a closer look at his face with the help of a nearby lamp. Small cuts adorn his face, and a prominent one that you notice lies on the bridge of his nose. 

Tommy and him weren’t the only ones searching for supplies. 

You cup his face gently, fingers ghosting the gray whiskers of his beard. He leans into your touch, eyes closed, completely melting at the contact. He shudders at the feeling of your lips pressing against every knick that taints his skin. Whoever did this to your Joel, you wish the weight of their cruelty returned tenfold—a life heavy with regret and haunted by shadows, never to know the peace they carelessly stole from him.

“C’mon, baby girl, let's get you to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours, fingers caressing your sides with a feather-light touch, “S’real late.”

Ever the giver. Even in the quietest moments, he pours what’s left of himself into you.

You shake your head gently, fingers coming up to undo the buttons of his winter coat. Once the constricting material is off, his shaky hands work on his favorite green flannel. He curses under his breath as his hands tremble. They feel numb and stiff from the biting cold, refusing to obey his commands. Frustration flickers across his face as he struggles with the flannel buttons, his breath coming in shallow puffs of irritation.

"I can't... damn it," he mutters, the words edged with a helpless kind of anger—his fingers fumble, clumsy and uncooperative. 

Placing your hands over his, you offer him a sympathetic smile and take over, undoing each button for him. He shrugs off the flannel, leaving the sight of his broad chest in front of you, revealing another scar, though this one is more familiar. It lay above his lower stomach, and you’d seen in passing within these same four walls when the man in front of you whispered filthy things into your ear, the weight of his naked body against yours, holding your hand as he fucked you into the mattress he was now sitting on. 

Still, on his lap, you moved to work on Joel’s pants, using your hands to rub at the top of his inner thigh gently. His grip on your sides tightened slightly as he let out a strained breath, peering at you through hooded eyes. Now, standing between his legs, you peel off his jeans and boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed to deal with another day. 

Joel’s hand comes to toy with the thin strap of your nightie; his fingers dig under the silk, slowly dragging both straps down your arms to reveal your naked body to him. His eyes dance along your chest, admiring the swell of your breast and the sight of your nipples that harden from the chilly air in the room. He pulls you into him, kissing the valley of your breast to the exposed skin of your neck. You giggle softly at the familiar beard scruff tickling your soft skin. 

Your hand drifts between your bodies, finding his aching cock. Wrapping your hand around his girth, he twitches in your hand with a low moan. You knew what he needed– Relief. And you’d be more than willing to provide that for him. 

“Take those off f’me, baby.” He removes his hands, letting his eyes drift to your panties, the only thing shielding all of you from him. You hooked your fingers around the soft cotton material, yanking them down so they could pool at your legs. You stepped out of your panties and closer to Joel, watching his hefty hand stroke up and down his cock, watching you unravel yourself for him and him only. 

“Wanna take care of you daddy.” Your hands find his shoulders, rubbing them to soothe the ache he felt from the day. Joel did so much for you. He kept you safe and full in many ways without expecting anything in return. You’d never lift a finger as long as he was around, and that was apparent from the first time he took you to bed and made you cum two times with his fingers and once with his mouth. Sometimes, you wanted him to be selfish because he deserved it more than anyone.  

“You’re so sweet, baby girl.”  He smiles up at you, still pumping his cock. Your eyes fall to his length and the bush of wiry hairs above it, “Gonna ride daddy’s cock n take care of him real good? Make him feel better?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Spit on daddy’s cock, baby.” 

You lean down to his length, eyes meeting his as he gives you a nod of approval. You gather the salvia in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips to his length. Joel’s eyes darkened, watching your spit drip down the head of his cock onto his shaft. 

“One more time.” 

You spit once more, and Joel removes his hand completely, arms reaching out for you. You step towards him, letting his hands find their way onto your hips. He pulls you into his lap once more, positioning you to his liking– both of your knees on either side of him as your wet entrance hovers over his cock.  Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel the hot tip of him rub against the wetness of your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, eyes closed. His hands hold you firmly in place. “She’s dripping onto me– filthy girl gonna ruin these sheets.” 

You whined, trying to move yourself onto him, but Joel was stronger, able to manipulate you however he wanted. You let out a sigh, just wanting anything he would give to dull the ache between your thighs. 

Joel tsked, “Be patient baby, m’gonna make you feel better.” He moves you forward just enough so  his tip catches at the notch of your cunt,  “Daddy spoils you so much that you're always used to getting your way, hm?”

You gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck at the feeling of his cock against your clit, “No, Daddy, m’your good girl, promise!” 

Joel’s hand gently cupped your face, his fingers softly caressing your skin as if to reassure you that he was just teasing. He knew you were spoiled objectively but loved being the one to indulge you. More than that, he loved how much you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose, something he would never tell you himself. He thrived on being the one you turned to, the one you trusted to take care of you. Knowing that you relied on him, that you needed him in ways no one else could. It wasn’t just indulgence; it was connection, it was love, and it was everything he never knew he craved. 

With his other hand, Joel moved you back to your original position hovering above him as he guided you to sink onto his cock. Joel’s hand was steady on your head, forcing your gaze to meet his own, already pushing you further down on himself. You moaned at the slight ache fading into pleasure from his size, splitting you open. 

“You’re doing so good, baby, y’almost there.” Joel sighed, eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He was painfully hard from the sight of him completely stuffing you full, “Gonna give you some more.” 

“Daddy.” You whined, body slumping forward in Joel’s grip as he pushed you down so you could take all that he was giving you. He was thick and hot inside of you, his member pulsing at the feeling of being where he’d longed to be– and almost always ended up every night.

“I know, baby girl, I know.” He soothed, kissing your cheek. He let you move against him a bit, letting you feel how deep he was inside you. Your gaze cast downwards to see where you disappeared inside of him, his cock buried snugly in your warmth. 

Joel’s hands guided you up and down, setting the rhythm for you to mimic. You held a death grip on his shoulders, rolling your hips on top of him, a little cautious, not wanting to disappoint him. Joel noticed your apprehension and offered you an encouraging smile, his warm and steady gaze melting away your nerves. He knew how much you wanted to be his good girl, but to him, there was nothing you could ever do that would disappoint. Even if you faltered, even if you stumbled, in his eyes, you could never truly fall short.

“Fuck, look at you. Got the prettiest thing in all of Jackson bouncin’ on my lap.” He praised you with a moan, throwing his head back and focusing on how well your body always took him, “Doing such a good job for daddy.” 

You watched Joel’s eyes rake all over your naked form, moaning when you’d sink back down onto his cock. His hands had reclaimed their place at your sides, moving you against him at a faster pace. One of your hands came to rest on the side of his face as you asked breathily, “Like this?” 

You rode him at the pace he wanted, pulling his forehead to rest against your own, wanting to feel him as close as possible, though it probably wasn’t possible. Close would never be enough for you. You’d always want more when it came to Joel. The dark hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit whenever you sank onto him, spurring you on further. 

“So fuckin’ sweet to me.” He nodded, confirming your earlier question, one hand gripping at your breasts as he licked at the nipple of the other. His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves making your back arch in pleasure. He loved how you wanted to please him. You really were his good girl. He pulled his mouth off with a pop, “S’just what you needed huh? My perfect girl’s little pussy was just beggin’ t’be full o’me?” 

You wanted to respond, but the feeling of him engulfing you made it impossible. Your face contorted the feeling of euphoria rushing over you when you felt Joel’s hips move upward on their own accord, meeting your movements to fuck you even harder. 

Joel.

Joel.

Joel. 

It was like a mantra in your head. It was all too much. 

‘Daddy, I– I think m’ gonna-” You whined into the crook of his neck. Joel knew your body well enough that he didn’t need you to tell him when you were close; he always felt it. He felt your hot tears drip onto his chest, bringing his hand up to tangle into your hair as he kept up his powerful thrusts into you. 

“Cum for me baby girl, s’okay you can do it.” He breathed out, his hand stroking your scalp, “I’ll take care of you. Let go f’me.” 

So you did. You came hard, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth with Joel’s shoulder, which was damp from your tears. Your walls gripped Joel’s cock, throbbing as you came undone on top of him, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. With what little energy he had left, both of his hands came to grip the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you. 

His hips stuttered, a sign to you that he was going to come as well. Your walls squeezing him allowed that final push he needed as he emptied himself into you. 

You were both left wrecked. Heavy breathing against sweaty skin pressed against each other. Joel’s arms enveloped you, gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath, “Stay inside, please?” 

“Okay, baby,” he chuckled, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath. Your head rested on his shoulder as he held you close, keeping you pressed firmly against him. “Do you still want to open presents?”

“After round two, definitely.”

[eternal-moss]

Christ, the whole Wilbur situation is so fucked. Already the things that are coming out of the woodworks so quickly are so sad.

tw for abuse and misogyny. If you aren’t aware of this yet, Wilbur Soot has been revealed as a prolific abuser

My heart breaks for all the people he’s harmed. I think Shelby was really intelligent in the way that she’s brought this to attention, without naming him. This meant that even though some people denied it or lashed back at her, the repercussions were minimised.

Wilbur responding proved it was him she was talking about, although the details she provided made it so patently clear it was him from the start, it made it so that he had to admit he was the one who had been committing essentially serial abuse on young women by the nature of him responding to the description of the unnamed abuser, although he didn’t mention that it was *multiple women* in his absolutely pathetic excuse of an ‘apology’.

I’ve been thinking about this deeply from pretty much directly the moment after Shubble revealed it really. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve ever watched any of Shubble’s stuff, and I’ve not watched streamers for a couple of years now, but the courage she had to do this is fucking immense. Wilbur is very well off financially with a massive and loyal fanbase, the influence he has is very large and not to be underestimated. His ‘apology’ reeks of PR pressure, although it fails to meet the mark on all levels of even a basic apology (which is not even the bare minimum in this situation) and omits some very important details.

It’s so sad that abuse and grooming is so common amongst streamers/YouTubers, but the response to this time (from the community) being genuine support instead of victim blaming does make me feel hopeful. Wilbur’s condescension of women and younger ccs is absolutely disgusting. This recontextualises so many moments when he’s been dismissive of and made jokes at women’s expense. What he’s done is abuse and it’s misogyny. He’s picked on people he knows are less able to fight back from all parameters. Misogyny is massive in the gaming scene, and he’s relied on all these women (it really is a lot at this rate, even an ex-trumpeter from Lovejoy) staying silent out of fear.

Shubble saying keeping their silence protected him more than it protected her is very true, and this will absolutely wreck his reputation. Rather, he’s fucked it up himself, and there really is no one else to blame in this situation. The people who knew about it and were subject to this were typically smaller, younger or female streamers. It’s disgusting that he had relied on their silence for so long.

This is a bit of a mess, but ngl so am I. It’s been eating at me for as long as it’s been going on, I found out almost immediately. I was quite a big Wilbur fan for a damn long time, since his early days of streaming (when skyblock randomiser was made etc). I was emotionally invested in his original music and looked up to him a lot.

The worst thing I think is that I resonated with his online interactions with Tommy (which makes me feel vile), and his adoration of Wilbur, always calling him ‘like a big brother’, and it fondly reminded me of me and my younger sibling. Except Wilbur would sometimes do some unexpectedly cruel things. Like stomping on Tommy’s hand and causing it to bleed. That alarmed me at the time, also when he revealed that he was relying on Tommy to talk him out of suicide, which really made me concerned about how healthy their relationship was. The worst thing is, this didn’t surprise me that much at all when it was revealed. Shelby’s descriptions could fit no other person, and it made sense and lined up with his past behaviour, but that doesn’t make it any less wholly awful and horrific.

I wasn’t going to talk about it on this blog, but I just feel angry. Angry for all these people he’s hurt. Angry that he’ll still be living comfortably off of his fanbase for years to come, young people who trusted and idolised him, the vast majority young girls themselves. Angry for Shubble, angry for Niki, angry for the women’s names we don’t know yet, angry for those who had been intimidated into silence. Angry for those who had been abused and brutalised by him. The main thing that’s coming up again and again is the biting, the bruising, the physical abuse, the way they were scared into saying anything, left traumatised by the way they’d been treated. As if that could be brushed off in any way by some disgustingly shallow and self-centred attempt at self preservation of his reputation. Fuck off.

Like Aimsey said, this isn’t some light cancellation from Twitter, these are reprehensible serial misogynistic crimes, and it’s only been days since the initial reveal and hours since his response and the influx of victims speaking up. My heart breaks to know how much more is going to be unearthed.

So yeah this is basically it, I treat this blog mainly as an archive for fan creations of things I like, but also as a collection of my thoughts. I have been unable to stop thinking about this, and I know that I’ve barely talked about mcyt on here, but I was heavily into dsmp and streamers for a long time. Shubble is insanely bloody brave for doing this, I wish them all the best (and the other victims) in recovering from his behaviour, as well as applauding her for the sheer fucking bravery to make the decision to speak up.

***I’ve seen some people saying Shubble uses they/them pronouns, but most people I’ve seen refer to her with she/her. If I find out she doesn’t use she/her I’ll change this post < Shelby uses she/they

[toiletclown]

breathless.

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

summary: you've had feelings for your best friend, spencer, almost as long as you have known him. it isn't getting any easier, and you need to tell him soon, whether he feels the same or not. your friends are pushing you, the fans already ship you, and after courtney and shayne's success, you just couldn’t bare to keep lying anymore. to yourself, or to him.

word count: 2028

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s been two years since you graduated from Smosh crew member to Smosh cast member. You weren’t the first, and are unlikely to be the last, but it’s still a bit nerve-wracking. You were moved to cast not long after Spencer made his switch to cast, but that was exactly your problem, wasn’t it? When you were both on crew, it was easier. Small smiles, hidden glances, a blush forming under your mask. Once or twice, Brennan had swiveled his camera to the crew to get their reactions and you couldn’t duck fast enough to dodge the shot. 

You both shared moments without fear of judgment, knowing everyone at Smosh knew how close you were. Some more than others. But once you were both on camera more often, those moments dwindled to near nothingness. You couldn’t make eyes at him, he couldn’t flirt with you. Plenty of the cast flirted with each other on and off camera, of course, but it was different somehow. The office flirting became private hangout flirting, which then became no flirting at all. 

He didn’t get jealous anymore when Amanda or Angela flirted with you, and you did your best not to get jealous when he flirted with Tommy or Shayne. It was like your friendship was entirely platonic again. And while that was all it had ever been – platonic – it hurt a little. It was like something happened overnight, and the flirting wasn’t cool anymore.

The last time something happened before your promotion to cast, Spencer, Angela, and Chanse were doing Who Meme’d It with Shayne, and someone had sent in a meme about you always looking at Spencer. As soon as it popped up, everyone was laughing, and Brennan promptly turned his camera to get your face. You were smart enough to expect it, and you managed to push out a laugh and shrug to the camera. All in good fun, it seemed. But really, it was a little bit upsetting to realize you were so obvious about your affection for Spencer. You thought that you were fairly secretive and weren’t too over the top, but apparently not so much.

“Okay, ‘Y/N pretending they weren’t just staring at Spencer’! Spencer, any thoughts?” Shayne said through giggles. 

Spencer made eye contact with you, and you did your best to hold it. “Gotta be honest, Shayne, I wasn’t even aware they stared at me. Guess they’re sneakier than I thought!” Everyone was laughing again, and you joined in. Instead of making a joke about him staring at you, or a joke about you two flirting in your pod, he went with a PR answer. You could barely admit to yourself how bad it had stung. And sure, most people got roasted in Who Meme’d It, especially with the lack of funeral roasts, but it didn’t really feel good to have your private crush on Spencer blasted to not only cast and crew, but whoever ends up watching this video. And his comment was making it seem more one-sided than you liked.

After the laughter settled down, Shayne got back to hosting. “Alright, who meme’d it! Was it Erin Dougal? Courtney? Or Y/N themselves?” You made a silly face when Brennan panned to you, channeling your best mad scientist look. Your face dropped immediately after. No one saw it.

The cast members debated for a second before writing down their answers. It was Courtney across the board. “Alright, so we all think Courtney made this meme. Angela, what makes you think it was Courtney?” 

“Shayne, that’s a great question, thank you so much for being here with me today. I said Court because I have seen them having little whisper sessions with Y/N and I simply don’t trust like that!” Angela laughed, a bright smile on her face. She winked at you once the camera had moved away from her face. She was actually your go-to confidant, and you were sure she knew that. She was your best friend, behind Spencer, after all.

After a dramatic pause, it was revealed that Erin Dougal was the one who made the meme. You could have called that from a mile away, but that was because Erin was constantly telling you to ask Spencer out. You shot her down every time, knowing it was safer and easier to suffer in silence with your feelings rather than to possibly fuck everything up with your best friend. Besides, suffering in silence was what you were best at.

//

And now, a few months later, you were the one in front of the camera for a Who Meme’d It. It was your first time actually competing, although you’ve sent your fair share of memes in. Spencer and Angela were the only two people to continuously guess you correctly, which in the grand scheme of things made the most sense as they were your closest friends at Smosh. However, you were now competing against both of them, and your competitive side didn’t have a concept of “friendship”, unfortunately. 

“Okay! Welcome back to Who Meme’d It! Today we have Angela, Y/N, and Spencer competing. And Y/N is quite competitive so let’s hope they still have their best friends after this!” Shayne introduced you all, smiling at you to ease your anxiety. 

“Lest we forget what happened when they were on Don’t Win Mario Party and nearly killed me,” Spencer said, turning towards you with his hands folded on the table. His eyes were smiling, but he was trying his best to keep a serious face.

You turned to face him, mirroring his expression and hands. “Lest we forget you deserved that attack because you fucked with my controller mid-lap so that you could get seventh.”

“Okay, are we doing Who Meme’d It or the Newlywed Game?” Angela joked, and you and Spencer returned to your normal positions, excited to play.

//

After the shoot, Spencer caught up with you in the kitchen. “You got your first Who Meme’d It win, how’s it feel?” You had indeed won, but only by two points. Spencer was right behind you and Angela frankly tanked it this episode. Usually she wasn’t too bad, but perhaps she knew how competitive you were going to be and decided to focus more on having fun instead of winning. Especially considering there was content being made that needed to be entertaining.

“Eh, I feel like my competitiveness isn’t very fun on camera. I’m hoping we don’t have to scrap the ep simply because I was too locked in.” You grabbed some fruit from the fridge and prepared to make your way to a table so you could sit and destress before your next shoot. You weren’t needed on set for over an hour so you were ready to mindlessly doomscroll while you snacked on your peaches.

Spencer chuckled at your comment, which made your heart flutter a bit. Suddenly, you had the urge to touch him. You put your hand on his shoulder, mostly unconsciously, not actively making the decision but simply just doing it. His giggling stopped instantly, and he looked at your hand cryptically, his expression unreadable. All too suddenly, it felt too serious, too personal, so you instantly pivoted. “But at least you didn’t win, right?” You smiled, patting his shoulder and turning to head to your seat. 

You were hoping, for the first time ever if you were being honest, that he wouldn’t follow you. Things had been weird between you two for a few weeks now, and you almost wanted some space to deal with the pain of your best friend seeming to lose interest in your friendship. And once again, Erin had submitted a meme that made you a little upset. You knew it was unreasonable to be upset with her, as it was all in good fun and she wasn’t actually trying to hurt your feelings. You should probably try to talk to her about that, since you knew she wouldn’t take your upset personally.

This one was arguably worse than the first one though, because instead of it being at your expense, it was technically at Spencer’s. The meme wasn’t mean in any regard, but it was making fun of Spencer for consistently getting “lost in his thoughts” whenever you were on a shoot together. Of course, Erin alluded to those thoughts being romantic in nature, which earned a few oohs and aahs from the crew and cast alike. You had felt your face get warm and tried to remind yourself you were on camera and it was all in good fun. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Courtney approaching you. “Y/N, Spence! Just the two people I wanted to see. I have a question for you guys.” 

Clearly, Spencer had intended on following you, since Courtney had greeted you both. You sighed as quietly as possible, before asking Court if you could sit down before you all got to talking. Your castmates followed you to a table, and you popped a piece of fruit in your mouth. “Okay, what's up?” 

“Well, we wanted to do a Guitar Hero stream next week. I know you haven't been on any of the livestreams, so I figured I’d ask if you wanted to be in this one. You don't have to play but if you sit and make commentary I’m sure that'll be enough! But of course you can play if you want to.” Courtney was always so thoughtful, and you made a mental note to thank her for always being so considerate. 

“Oh hell yeah, I finally get to show off my guitar skills. It’s been a minute since I’ve played, but if Y/N’s down, I’m down!” Spencer’s eyes lit up. He had been trying to figure out a way to impress you and gauge your reaction before he finally took the leap and asked you on a date.

Everyone had been encouraging him to do so for months at this point, but he still wasn’t so sure about it. Yeah, you blushed whenever he mentioned you on camera and you blushed a lot during the shoot today when Erin’s meme came up. But some part of him felt like that had less to do with reciprocating a crush and more to do with embarrassment. 

You thought for a minute, munching on your peach slice. “Sure, that sounds fun. Spencer, maybe you could teach me how to play?”

Spencer broke out in a grin, “Of course I can. Although I’m surprised you’ve never played it before, it’s an iconic franchise.”

Courtney worked out a few more details with the two of you before making their way back to their pod. When she had left, Spencer turned his attention back to you. “Have you seriously never played Guitar Hero before?” He genuinely was having trouble believing that.

Truthfully, you had played before. Many times. And you were actually quite skilled at it. But it’s been quite some time since you picked up and played it, and you knew you would be rusty. Plus, you were mentally hatching a plan. Have Spence “teach” you the game, play extremely badly the whole time, then on stream you can kick his ass on Expert mode. Perfect plan.

“I have not. I might have played once or twice as a kid but I don’t really remember the controls or, like, speed, since I know some of the songs are really fast.”

“Okay, do you wanna come by my place tonight after work? I have a bunch of the Guitar Hero games but I also have Clone Hero which will probably be what we use on the stream anyway.”

Oh, right. Not-so-perfect plan. If you were to be taught, you needed to be taught before the livestream. Which means you had to hang out with Spencer outside of work. You can survive one night alone with him, right? You’ve done it so many times before. Sure, it’s been a few weeks since you guys hung out, and with your increasing feelings for him you were sure to be awkward. But it was Spencer! Your best friend in the whole world! It would be just fine. Right?

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 13

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation. Mentions of blood and unaliving. Mentions of selling body parts and black market trade.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

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Early the next morning a brand-new wardrobe was delivered. More clothes than I could wear in a year. As well as bags, purses, jewelry, hats, everything you could possibly think of.

“They got you the hook up! All the brands latest styles! I’m going to steal some of this.” I.N announced immediately, grabbing a couple items that caught his eye.

I laughed at his antics. “Sure, why not. I’m sure I’ll steal your clothes at some point.” I shrugged fingering through what was left. Some of this stuff isn’t too bad.” I was pleasantly shocked. The fabric felt different, and they all had name brands on them in some way, but they weren’t over the top. They looked- at least most did-casual and comfortable. Cozy. Exactly my style, but with a luxury name. J managed to find me – even in name brands. That man really is the best. He knew what was bothering me without me having to explain.

With a watery smile I hid my face in a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt. Arms embraced me. “I hope those are good tears.” Changbin spoke into my hair.

I sniffed and nodded, lifting my head again. “J found me. Found a way to keep a part of me.”

Bin squeezed me tighter. “We will find a happy medium. Weve always done the impossible.”

“We do things our own way. We’re Stray Kids.” Chan put in.

Lee Know punched my arm gently. “You’re one of us now, Jagi.”

I sniffed again and let out a watery laugh, nodding my head. “Let’s go on tour.”

The Omegas cheered happily and reached out to touch me. Still smiling I wiped my eyes and got back to my new clothes, assessing. “I don’t have enough time to put everything away right now. Who wants to help me pick an airport outfit?” I asked, not even sure where to begin. The sheer number of clothes in front of me was overwhelming.

A pile of clothes was shoved into my arms. “Already done.” I.N stated dusting off his hands. He had come back from stashing the clothes he stole and apparently moved on to the task of my outfit.

I looked at the pile of clothes and shrugged my face. A nice, neutral set of grays and blacks in a mixture of brands-a couple I have never even heard of.

Hyun handed me a shoebox and a crossbody tote bag, oiling them on top of the mountain of clothes already in my arms. “You will need these too.”

“What do I need to pack?” I asked. This was my first time on tour with Stray Kids and I wasn’t really sure what I would need.

“Most everything is provided, but anything personal. Chargers, laptops and stuff like that. Books, stuffed animals, anything you think you may need.” Chan shrugged.

Easy enough. And I could fit everything in the bag Hyun chose for me, but I had to hurry. The van to the airport was due in an hour. The Omegas were already ready to go. They had this whole thing down to science. It was me that was holding them up.

Once we were on the way to the airport, I started to bounce my leg and chew on my lip. Seungmin had helped me with some light makeup, and I made my hair a big nicer than usual. But airports were a big deal. There would be cameras and screaming fans everywhere.

It’s my first time dealing with fans in person and not through the internet. And my first time in such a situation after announcing my subgender. Nervous is not the right word to describe what I was feeling.

Lee Know placed a hand on my knee and squeezed, stopping it from bouncing. “You’ll be fine. It’s just a walk through the airport.”

I snorted. “Hardly. It’s a whole ass show.”

“Stick close to us and your bodyguards. You will be safe.”

“I’m not worried about my safety, Lino, I’m worried about messing up and making you look bad.” It’s true. I wasn’t worried so much about my safety- though it was still a concern. Even though there were some scary comments and posts on social media no one seemed to be concerned about it, so I was taking my queues from them.

“Just be yourself. Everything else will follow.” Lino patted my knee twice. “You can’t do anything that would cause a huge issue. I mean – unless you punch a STAY. Don’t do that. Obviously.”

“There goes my whole plan of attack.” I rolled my eyes. I pulled and fidgeted with my clothes as we pulled up to the airport, making sure they were perfect.

Chan turned in his seat to address us. “Bin, Min, keep Y/N in between you. Do not leave her side.” Both Bin and Lino nodded seriously.

“Chan?” I was concerned by his very serious tone and the sudden extra precautions.

He smiled at me, but it was more strained than usual. “Theres nothing to worry about. I’m just being overly cautious.”

I 100% did not believe him. He was a terrible liar. There was more he wasn’t telling me. He was trying not to freak me out more, I’m sure, but I needed to know. I needed to be prepared as well. “Don’t keep me in the dark.”

Scrunching up his face and glancing out the window as we came to a final stop, Chan thought it over. I watched him patiently.

Seungmin huffed. “JYPE has received some threats against you.”

“Seungmin!” Chan snapped.

“She has the right to know! She isn’t dumb or helpless!”

“You could have broken it to her easier.”

“Hold on! When did this happen?” Hyun asked, cutting into the argument.

“You didn’t know?” I asked, relieved I wasn’t the only one left out of the loop.

There were murmurs and complaints overlapping. Apparently the only two people who knew were Chan and Seungmin. They kept it from everyone else. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” I was angry. Not only did they keep something from me, but Chan also just lied about it as well. Lied right to my face. “You lied to me. Do you think so little of me that you think I don’t deserve to know that I’m in danger? Did you think I couldn’t handle it?” I jerked away from Seungmin when he reached for me. The Omega looked crushed at the rejection.

“I made him keep it from you, don’t blame him. I just didn’t want to worry you more. I knew today would be hard enough already.” Chan defended himself.

There was a knock on the window. Security telling us to hurry it up. They were right, we needed to move, or we would miss our flight.

So, with one last glare at Chan, I snatched my bag and gestured for someone to open the door. Felix took the hint, leading the way.

Bin and Lino stayed true to their promise. Bin kept a secure, comforting arm around my shoulders, holding me close as we walked. Lino stuck close to my other side, brushing my arm occasionally to assure me that he was still there.

Security worked to keep fans back a respectful distance as they screamed. Some reached toward us, trying to get even the smallest touch. Some held signs or Skzoos-waving them erratically. Most held out phones, videoing or taking pictures as we went by, trying to follow us as far as they could. Professional paparazzi were allowed closer, snapping pictures with high powered flashes that left spots in my vision if I looked at them too directly.

Mostly I kept my head down and focused on not tripping over my own feet. Most everyone was focused on the boys, but I could make out some shouts aimed at me. More of what they’ve been saying online. “Go home Alpha trash!” “Go back to your masters, slave!” They were easy enough to ignore. It was nothing new and nothing I hadn’t expected.

What I hadn’t expected was the thick red liquid thrown at me from an unseen face in the crowd. The thick liquid was cold, like it had been refrigerated.

Freezing I gasped, the foul metallic smelling liquid covered my entire front. Dripped from my hair, chin, and clothes.

It was blood. I was covered in blood.

But not just any blood. This blood had a distinct unmistakable Alpha scent to it. I was covered with Alpha blood, and a lot of it. Too much for even one Alpha.

There was a flurry of chaos as security rushed us off and away from the crows. There were a couple of high-pitched screams as STAY realized what had happened.

Someone covered me with a jacket and Bin and Lino practically covered me with their bodies as we nearly ran to where security was shoving us.

I stared at my feet, mind completely blank except for the image of myself covered in some unknow Alpha’s blood. Some likely murdered Alphas blood was currently drying on my face and clothes. Soaking into my skin.

We stopped and the jacket was taken off me. Bins large warm hands engulfed my face and brought it up, so I was looking at him. It was then I realized he was talking - no yelling.

I focused on a large splash of blood on Bins cheek. Reaching up I wiped it off. “You have blood on you.” I stated blankly feeling light as air and heavy as a ton of bricks all at the same time.

I blinked and suddenly I was on my back, Chan hovering over me looking worried.

Irrational and intense anger overtook me, and I shoved Chan away. “Get away from me!” I shouted. Chan stumbled back and looked struck. “This is your fault! You should have told me! You should have let me be prepared!” I accused making Chan flinch slightly and look away. Some rational part of me knew that no amount of preparation could have stopped what happened, but I wasn’t feeling very rational right now.

Felix and Seungmin rushed in holding several items. “We got water and a change of clothes!” Felix handed me the bottle of water and sat next to me on the hard plastic loveseat I was laying on. WE were in a small plain room with only the loveseat I was on and two plastic chairs that matched it.

“Where are we?” I asked, taking a small sip of the water.

“A spare room the airport uses for searches.” Seungmin answered.

“Decided to actually tell me, huh?” I rolled my eyes and looked away from him. He was just as guilty as Chan and J, lying to me and betraying my trust.

“They have showers here, for travelers. If you hurry, you can shower off the blood.” Lino handed me a couple small bottles of soap.

I had managed to forget about the blood in the aftermath of fainting and my anger at Chan and Seungmin. But now I could feel the dried blood itching my skin and flaking off. My heavy-with-blood seater sticking to the skin under it. Smell the overwhelming scent of metal and Alpha. I felt sick.

“It’s a-its-the blood is-“ I couldn’t force the words out.

Lino nodded and Felix gripped my hand tightly. “We know, sweetheart.” He whispered.

I gulped and nodded holding up a bloody shaking hand. “I don’t…mmm-I’m not-I don’t know.” My voice shook as much as my hands did.

Hannie held out a hand for me to take. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Let JYP worry about the attack.”

I gripped his hand tightly and let him pull me up.

The shower helped calm me down and bring my thoughts and emotions back to neutral ground.

This attack was the cowardly action of a few individuals. They may not even be STAY. They could have just used this opportunity to complete their attack. To make me afraid.

They wanted me locked inside, taking care of the house, and doing everything to make more Alphas for them to use and exploit. They wanted me to hide.

But I spent most of my life hiding. Hiding who I was. Hiding from the world. I wouldn’t be terrorized into doing that again. They would not win.

So, they managed to buy some Alpha blood off the black market. Some slave trader killed their slave-worked then and used them to death. Or the Alpha unalived themselves rather than suffer. Either way they sold what they could of the Alpha to get some of their money back.

Then some sucker thought they needed to make a point, so they bought the blood. Probably at 10x what it was worth. Then decided to throw it on me like red paint at a fur protest. Gross? Yes. Sickening? Yes. Terrifying? Also, yes. But ultimately, they did not harm me or my Omegas. They most likely didn’t hurt anything but their bank account.

I rejoined the Omegas freshly cleaned hair damp and shower warm. The new clothes were from some souvenir shop in the airport, but they were soft and comfortable. And most importantly, not covered in blood.

“Are you okay?” Hyun asked perking up as soon as he saw me. He reached out and pulled me close, sticking his face in my hair and breathing deeply. I snuck a hand to the back of his neck and squeezed lightly.

“They won’t scare me away that easy. Let’s get this tour started.” I replied with a smirk.

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General Taglist @stellasays45

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie

[arumidden]

Agatha All Along Finale Thoughts (A Lot of Them)

Honestly, found the finale kind of a let down. It felt so lackluster and wobbly compared to how insanely strong and awesome Lilia’s episode had been last week. I have a LOT of thoughts and here’s what I felt about each part (spoilers below cut):

About Rio/Death:

I feel like a lot about Rio/Death kinda of fell flat because of a) how they fought her, and b) Agatha turning into a ghost.

The fight felt weirdly lackluster to me. Partly because it somewhat devolved into CGI effects when this whole show has relied on more practical stuff, but also because of the way Agatha flip flopped between (seemingly) legitimately trying to offer Billy to Rio and trying to defend him by sacrificing herself. Clearly, Agatha is projecting Nicholas onto Billy, so why even bother with her still offering him up in the final battle? Why not have Agatha say that she’s not gonna let Rio take another boy she cares about before his prime and give her a heroic sacrifice and redemption?

Since we know that Rio said Billy would have to kill himself, since Rio can’t kill him herself, so why not instead have Rio try and egg Billy into offing himself by feeding his fears that by trying to find/save Tommy, Billy has killed an innocent boy. Rio hands Billy her knife and Billy tries to kill himself but Agatha stops him, takes the knife and stabs herself instead.

Plus, Agatha turning into a ghost so quickly really cheapens Rio as a villain. The whole point of her is that she is inescapable, and this is Agatha finally reaching the end of the road, both the Witches’ Road and her own life. For her to come back as a ghost immediately shows that this ending has no real importance or weight, and that Rio/Death is a kinda pathetic villain. All that build up just for Agatha to essentially escape immediately? Why not have Agatha reach the afterlife, see Nicholas, and feel like she needs to help at least one other boy achieve his live goals before she can stand to face Nicolas? So she begs Rio to let her right this wrong and Rio maybe reluctantly agrees? Or maybe even Rio says that Agatha got a long time before Rio lets her go again, and have Agatha return as a ghost only after Billy has reached some other hardship in the future and he summons her for help, letting her serve as a surprise return?

About Nicholas:

How does Nicholas’ story make any continuity sense? Doesn’t this episode contradict the hallucination Agatha had in episode 3? Why would she hallucinate seeing Nicholas’ cradle with the darkhold inside of that never even happened? Everyone else had hallucinations that were accurate and reflected their real traumas. Why does Agatha have one that is based on rumors? Is it meant to be that Agatha’s worst fear/trauma is what the others think of her? Cause that seems incredibly out of character.

Also, was Agatha killing witches to keep Nicholas alive longer, or just because she was greedy and wanted their power? I really wasn’t sure; it wasn’t super clear.

Why not have Agatha be tempted by the darkhold and sacrifice Nicholas for it, only for her to regret it and try to bring him back, so she kills witches/makes human sacrifices to Rio in an attempt to balance it out? This way, the line about the truth being worse than what actually happened is still correct? Cause honestly I don’t know how the truth is somehow worse than the rumor that she sold Nicholas for the darkhold. The kid just died randomly in his sleep.

About The Road/The Ballad:

I’m also not a huge fan of the Ballad being something Agatha and Nicholas just made up. It feels like it cheapens both the experiences of the coven as a whole and especially Lorna and Alice’s deaths. Their whole lives circled around the song, so for it to all turn out to be one of Agatha’s cons feels dirty.

Plus, if the ballad was a real song (whether the Road itself was real or not doesn’t even matter), I think it could have been a better push for Agatha to become a better mentor for Billy. The idea being that Agatha had tried to reach it in the past but failed because she just wasn’t Scarlet Witch levels of powerful would’ve given her a reason to steal other witches’ powers, thinking that she could maybe get around Rio and bring Nicholas back to life by defeating the Road. At some point, she’s become so powerful but still can’t reach the Road, so she figures it must be a myth and concedes to using it as a con to trick witches, only for Billy to finally open/create the Road himself. This shows Billy as being on a whole other level of power from Agatha, setting him up to be even more powerful than her or Wanda.

About Jen:

Hell yeah Jen survived the road. But what did she do that was so important in the last trial? Didn’t Lilia say Jen was going to be important? All she did was figure out how to unbind herself, and then Billy and Agatha figured out the rest in their own. Also, her leaving without tying up the loose ends or even saying goodbye to Billy afterwards felt wrong. Her arc was coming to care about the others. So why did she disappear as soon as she left the road? I think Billy being shocked to see her all covered in dirt in his room would’ve been a better ending, especially since I think she would be more empathetic towards Billy and understanding of his fear that he killed the others on the road. Plus, she could’ve then asked him if he got what he wanted out of the Road, which he could use as his segue into Finding Tommy.

[belladonnasmenagerie]

SFW: Slashers reactions to you being a small unassumingly strong woman: Pt 2

Part 2 to the previous bullet list I made featuring Vincent, Bo and (NBC) Hannibal. This one will feature (NBC) Will Graham and Thomas 🥰

Requested by @klerns-birdie

I hope you liked the first one here is the last part to what should’ve been a one parter but I’m having too much fun with this idea lol

Enjoy!!

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Epilogue: All your life you knew you were stronger than others, even as a kid it was very apparent when you played around with other kids or went to school, parents having to be called a couple times for broken property. But over time you were able to control the strength you had but that didn’t help with your social life.

As you grew up names had been thrown like ‘freak’ or ‘monster’ even though you were so sweet to everyone. Eventually you stopped trying to become friends with others due to your strength but as you got out of high school it became easier, having the freedom to travel and see new things had opened you up to so much. Even though you still were insecure about your strength you didn’t hate it you were proud of yourself for how amazingly you managed it.

Then one day you met him and it felt like love at first sight….

Will Graham (NBC)

* Spending time with Will was the highlight of your life, wether it be fishing, playing with the dogs or just being in silence as you two drank coffee in the morning. It was pure bliss.

* You had 100% trust in Will and knew he returned the same trust but deep down you felt guilty, see with trust also came no secrets the two of you told each other everything.

* Except one thing and it wasn’t because you were afraid he wouldn’t believe you you were afraid of how he would see you from then on.

* It was a nice peaceful night sitting on the front porch watching the dogs running around the front yard and playing, the wind was cool and the silence serene.

* You looked over at Will, he looked tired like always but still content and happy in this moment.

* This was the time and you knew it, clearing your throat Will looked over at you.

* “What’s wrong?” He asked concerned

* You shook your head “I’m alright will, I just…need to tell you something.”

* Wills brows furrowed in confusion

* “I haven’t been 100% honest with you.” You licked your lips feeling your gut curl

* Will grabbed your hand “babe you can tell me anything” he reassured

* You explained to him how all your life you were a lot stronger than other girls and how you looked all small and petite would make people not to be around you.

* Will sighed a breathe of relief “that’s all?” He asked with a smile

* “What do you mean that’s all?” You scolded

* “Babe, I love you, your my world and nothing that small could make me not love you.”

* You smiled bringing Will in for a loving kiss

Thomas Hewitt

* Thomas loved how small you were compared to him and how sweet you were to him, he never knew someone out there could treat him the way you do.

* And you loved him too, like your own personal teddy bear and the two of you fell in sync immediately, catching on to his little jesters and the way he would whisper stuff into your ears

* It was cute

* But the only problem you had was Hoyt. Always so mean and cruel to both you and Thomas

* Not a huge fan of your relationship with him, he would always call you cruel names and would mock you for loving in his terms “a freak like Tommy”

* You tried letting his cruel names and taunting roll off your back but when he attacks Thomas, fair game goes out the window

* The first time you saw Hoyt lay a hand on Thomas was one day in the kitchen

* Humming to yourself you waltzed into the small space to get water, that’s when you saw Hoyts hand come down on poor Thomas, who was bent over shaking in fear

* Your niceness flew out the window as you charged at the older man who had already wound up to give another slap

* You grabbed Hoyt’s wrist squeezing tightly, Hoyt glared at you as you shot him a nasty look

* “What the hell do you think you’re fucking doing!?” He yelled going to tug his hand away but you squeezed harder

* A loud yell ripped from Hoyt’s mouth as you squeezed the muscle and bone in hand

* “Don’t you EVER lay another hand on Thomas. Do you hear me!?” You yelled

* Hoyt hunched down in pain desperately trying to yank his arm away

* You squeezed tighter elections another yell from the older man “I said DO YOU HEAR ME!” you screamed

* “YES! JESUS CHIRST LET ME GO!” Hoyt begged

* Opened your hand you released Hoyt’s wrist which he recoiled into his chest as he rubbed the sore area

* Pointing a finger in his face you gave him one threat “You ever do anything to Tommy I will break every bone in your body, got it?”

* Hoyt glared at you but nodded

* Turning to Tommy your sweet demeanor returned placing a hand on his cheek

* “You okay baby?” You asked genuinely concerned

* Tommy nodded moving into your touch

* You smiled “good, now why don’t we go upstairs and take a little break?”

* Going upstairs the both of you cuddled just enjoying each others company

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Batman Hush Thoughts Part 7

(Batman 619)

Ahhh! I love Harvey Dent. Poor Bruce just keeps getting betrayed by his friends.

I sure hope so! Bruce/Batman deserve more friends and Harvey was friends with both sides of him

I love Harvey’s absolute lack of remorse. Like he admitted to shooting Tommy the first time after just shot him again and this time he wasn’t clay.

Poor Jim Gordon looks so done with this shit though

I love how Harvey’s only goal was to save his friend. I need them to have a Happy ending (even though I know they won’t). Bat’s is still searching for a way for it not to be Tommy but there was no hope for that.

Have I mentioned I love the female rep in this? Like I know this comic purposefully does fan service like it says on the back cover that Catwoman has never looked so seductive

But still they don’t write them terribly. The women get to have meaningful conversations.

Here’s an older person of the cape society giving advice to a younger one who feels terrible after being messed with which Catwoman can relate to.

Idk I just like it

You know Clark does kind of have a point.

I love how Bruce goes to Clark for help thinking through all of this. I didn’t take a picture of it but Bruce says he goes to Clark because he can be more emotionally detached in a way. And that’s just so fantastic because so many people incorrectly assume that Batman is this purely cold logical hero. But even though he might not show it on his face or with his words, his actions demonstrate how much his actions are fueled by feeling, his love for people, his fear that he’ll lose them.

Superman is by no means not an emotional superhero but he wasn’t friends with Tommy which means he can be more impartial than Bruce.

I love how they’d do anything for eachother. Like all Superman doesn’t want to hurt him but he’ll still do what Bruce asks.

He wants to stay behind and help. Bruce thanks him even if he hesitates. I love their relationship

I love how threatening Bruce is when it comes to his secret.

Riddler 100% deserved that punch for how antagonistic he was being about Jason.

“He fell.” Is iconic stuff.

Agh! Bruce ruining his relationships once again. Selina had a point. What you have going is good, let it be good even if the beginnings aren’t that happy

< Prev.

[gayphob1a]

The Five Stages of Grief (and love)

Steddie || full fic on ao3

Would you believe it if Steve Harrington told you he wasn’t a huge fan of parties? He played the part well, kegstand king and all, but in reality, All the alcohol and drugs being thrust into his hands just made him feel out of control, like his body and mind were two separate entities fighting for whichever could give him a bigger case of Foot-in-Mouth disease. All through high school, his so-called friends threw parties, and of course he attended; most of them were at his house after all. Once in a blue moon he might even say he enjoyed the company, if he’d had a bad week — back then, a bad week entailed a lost basketball game, Tommy and Carol being grade A dicks, at worst Harrington Sr. getting on his case for his less than perfect grades — but really all they ever achieved was to make him feel like shit in the morning. 

Eventually, the stakes of a bad week to “King Steve” seemed inconsequential, laughable even. Now, in the face of the end of the world, temporary distraction is all he could hope for. Weekend after weekend, Steve hosts hordes of high schoolers who barely acknowledge him as a person rather than a symbol. He’s searching for a moment of relief, a second of feeling safe. 

It never comes, but the appeal of weed and liquor finally do. Steve thinks if he can just muddle his way through the trauma of fighting monsters in a drunken haze, eventually he’ll forget. Wishful thinking.

Because graduation comes with another apocalypse hot on its trails. Steve may have found a form of peace in Robin, but she isn’t the cure for the void in his chest. That void can now only be filled with a constant stream of substances. Okay, maybe it doesn’t fill the void, but he can pretend it isn’t there under the haze of glorious intoxication.

So, to Steve’s delight, after killing Vecna, he finds an acquaintance in Eddie. Maybe pursuing friendship would be more beneficial, but Steve can’t find the capacity to expend the energy that requires.

No, Steve has been meeting with Eddie, nearly three times a week, to stock up on weed. They share little more than a nod of solidarity for what they went through together, before Steve rushes home to smoke and pour himself a drink. Or two. Or three.

The morning after one of those nights he goes harder than most, Steve walks into his shift at Family Video, looking completely worn down. His hair lacks its signature “Harrington” shape and volume. A pair of thick sunglasses shield his eyes. His clothes are clearly unwashed, and smell strongly of his unconscionable decisions.  

“Gooood morning, sunshine!” Robin says, far too loud for Steve’s throbbing headache.

Steve winces and puts a hand up to rub his temples. 

“Damn, Rob, it’s too early to be so cheerful.”

While Steve self-destructs on a nightly basis, Robin is on constant alert, ready to be at his side at a moment's notice. She hardly ever lets on to this behavior though, fearing Steve will withdraw if he knows she’s focusing her energy towards him. 

Steve, though he’ll never admit it, has a habit of closing himself off the second he needs help. He would drop everything for any one of those damn kids, Robin, Nancy, or even Eddie, but he was never able to let them reciprocate.

“It is 12 o’clock in the afternoon, Steven. The sun is fully up.”

“Okay, so it’s too early in my morning to be this cheerful.”

“You really are a delight, you know that, dingus?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too, dummy.” Steve lets out a half hearted chuckle, unable to fully match Robin’s energy. Frankly, he can’t match any energy at this point. The nightmares and crippling paranoia had too strong a grip on him last night. His sides, where the demobats had left nothing but shredded skin and muscle, were aching the worst they had since the night he got them. A joint and a nightcap hadn’t helped the way Steve had hoped, so he poured another. And then another. And then another. It was around the time he found himself dancing around the pool, a whiskey bottle in one hand and another joint in the other, that he realized he’d lost count.

The hangover’s cruel, but not enough to make Steve regret his choices. The room may be spinning, but it’s reminiscent of the circles he danced in with his arms out, listening to something that vaguely reminded him of Eddie. He may have a splitting headache, but it hurts less than his injuries had last night. He may have feel a constant dull pressure on the back of his throat, like everything from last night is trying to scratch and crawl its way out, but really, he’s so jumpy these days, that nearly every sudden noise has him on the verge of vomiting.

Robin stares Steve down as she watches him wince at too sharp a movement, or quickly grab at the trash can, just to set it back down with a thumbs up and a “false alarm.” Things had been hard on all of them, sure, but she knows Steve is far deeper than anyone else. Four times saving the world, and not once had he let his emotions be felt.

“You know, Eddie and I have movie night tonight. You should help me pick something out.” Steve is sitting on a stool, with his head in his crossed arms on the counter. It was a slow Tuesday, so Steve is taking advantage of this time to sleep the hangover off in 5 minute intervals. He lifts his head slightly, to give Robin a confused look.

“You want me, Steve Harrington, to pick out a movie for you and Eddie Munson? The man has never once entertained the idea of renting a movie I even express an interest in.”

“Granted, his taste is a bit… niche, but we’ve run out of movies to watch. We need a fresh pair of eyes, Steve!” Robin practically whines at him, and the noise is like a sharp object scraping against his eardrums.

“Oh my god, if you stop talking in that voice I’ll pick out a full movie festival for you.”

There’s a small mutter from Robin as he stands to search for something Eddie acceptable-ish.

“What was that?” He asks, now standing to his full height over Robin.

“Oh um, just that, maybe… Could you also drive me there when our shift is over?” 

Steve exaggerates a sigh and roll of his eyes, but they both know the answer to that question.

“And why isn’t Eddie picking you up today?” He calls from the sci-fi shelves. Robin follows him over, but he turns his back to block his potential selections from her view.

“I wouldn’t normally ask. You know I hate making you drive me around everywhere. Just two more months until I get my license and you’ll be free. It’s just, Eddie’s stuck at home. His van isn’t running. I think it’s something to do with the tank? Lines? Shit, I don’t know about cars, dingus. It doesn’t go.” 

Steve lets out a real laugh at that. They were few and far between, but the real laughs that could only be produced by Robin were almost as good as Eddie’s top shelf shit.

“You know I don’t mind driving you anywhere, Rob. Of course I’ll take you. Can’t let you miss the incredible film night I have prepared for you.”

“Show me what it is if it’s so incredible.” Robin giggles, trying to snatch the VHS from Steve’s hands. He holds it up above his head with a hand over the cover so she can’t read it. Robin jumps and grabs at it, the two in a fit of laughter. It’s moments like these that make the guilt catch up with Steve.

The rest of the day matches the speed of their slow morning, and the distinct lack of customers proves a strain on Steve’s mental health. His every other thought is an attack on himself, tearing him down for ditching his best friends. Sure he still spends time with them, helping the kids with homework and general chauffeur duties, taking Robin out to practice driving, single handedly keeping Eddie in business; but every attempt the others make to show him how much they care, he withdraws himself more. 

Physically, he’s still there, still looks like Steve, but he laughs a little less. Most smiles fail to reach his eyes anymore. He just can’t get his mind to wrap around the concept that he deserves their effort.

Customers trickle in and out one by one until closing. Steve, exhausted and ready for a drink, rents out the movie and ushers Robin out to his car, locking the store behind them. The ride to Eddie’s is filled with Robin’s pleasant chatter and soft laughter. Steve’s state of mind is plastered all over his face and Robin can see he’s drifting into a dark place. Though she can’t outright say anything, she knows her blabbering about nothing is just distracting enough to stop his mind from wandering too far.

Before long, they’re pulling into the Forest Hills driveway, down the couple lots to Eddie’s trailer. Steve notices the spot next to Eddie’s van was empty of Wayne’s car. He pulls in, headlights glinting off the trailer windows. 

“hold on a second. Robin, how were you planning on getting home if Eddie’s van isn’t running and Wayne is gone?” Steve looks at Robin, who’s been oddly quiet since turning into the trailer park. He can just barely see the mischievous smile that forms on Robin’s lips as she turns to him with just a bit too much melodrama. 

“Oh nooo! I TOTALLY forgot about getting home, Steve! I guess I’ll just walk home later, in the dark, alone.” she exaggerates a sigh to really sell it.

Steve rolls his eyes. Of course he isn’t going to let Robin walk home. He wouldn’t let her in broad daylight, much less around midnight. Still, he’s a tad bit annoyed. He’s exhausted from nursing his hangover all day and ready to fall into the bottom of another bottle. He doesn’t want that to be postponed by the looming responsibility of needing to operate a car to pick Robin up.

“You could always join us, of course. No need to drive back and forth. I can even drive us back after, as long as you ‘observe’,” she says with air-quotes. Driving lessons originally scared the both of them, but they quickly discovered that since she didn’t have to move her actual body, Robin was actually quite adept behind the wheel. Most of the drives they take, Steve just zones out to the music and watches the scenery go by.

He sighs, but it’s a decent enough compromise. “Alright, fine... If I’d known this was your plan all along I would have picked a movie I’d actually enjoy,” he grumbles. They exit the car, Steve with the movie in hand, and rap on the door. It swings open a moment later to reveal a comfortable looking Eddie.

Boy is this different. Steve’s visits with Eddie typically take place away from the trailer, where he’s always keeping up appearances as the metalhead ‘freak’. This Eddie looks so… soft? His crazy hair is half pulled up in a little bun on top of his head, while the rest delicately hangs over his shoulders. He’s wearing a shirt that reads ‘IRON MAIDEN: Live After Death’. It looks like it’s been well loved, and sloppily cut to stop right above Eddie’s navel, revealing the trail of hair that leads into his black sweatpants. He finds himself thinking he understands why girls find that so attractive and quickly shoves that thought into a little box he’ll be locking up tight under about a pound of weed. He doesn’t even realize he’s just standing there, looking dumb as fuck with his mouth hanging open until Eddie finally speaks.

“Good to see you too, Harrington. Buckley.” he gives Robin a little nod as she walks past him. Steve shakes his head, pulling a hearty chuckle out of Eddie.

“Uh, yeah, man. Good to see you. Sorry, I’m kind of crashing your movie night aren’t I?”

“Not a problem, man. So, you gonna come in or what?” Steve slip past Eddie, praying to a god he isn’t sure even exists, that Eddie hasn’t noticed the heat spreading in his cheeks.

Robin is already in the kitchen, making herself at home with snacks and a couple beers for the other two. The boys accept the drinks and get comfortable in the living room. Eddie slings across the armchair sideways, his head leaning over the side, near the spot on the couch where Steve sits. Not long after, Robin sets a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table for all three of them, and curls up into Steve’s side.

“Alright, will you finally tell me what we’re watching, Steve? Eddie, this man would not tell me what we’re watching for the entirety of our 8 HOUR shift.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know I would be joining you, and I didn’t want you complaining to me all day that my choice was stupid. Now, sit back, relax, and get ready for 87 full minutes of the most dramatic irony you will ever experience in your life.” Eddie and Robin share a confused look. When the movie starts playing, the title screen alone is enough for them to start groaning. 

“Really, Steve. Strange Behavior? That couldn’t be more on the nose.” Eddie grabs a throw pillow and hits Steve in the face with it, smiling all the same.

“I know it’s on the nose, that’s why I picked it. Come on, I know you two cope with humor and this movie is ridiculous compared to the real deal!” 

“You were right, Steve. I would have– no, should have complained until you picked something else,” Robin teases. They all turn their attention to the screen to watch an evil scientist experiment on teenagers and turn them into murderers. 

In no way is the film intended to be funny, but they can’t help themselves as they laugh at how exaggerated and unrealistic it all is. 

“Okay, come on. You’re telling me ‘I was drunk, I don't remember what happened’ is a good enough excuse? How is no one questioning how Oliver was just MISSING FROM THE PARTY when Waldo got stabbed?” Eddie hollers criticisms at the movie’s lack of consequences the whole way through. At one point, he’s out of the chair, jumping and screaming about Mildred being useless when “SHE WAS GIVEN A FULL DESCRIPTION OF HER FRIEND’S KILLER AND SHE DOES NOTHING WITH THAT INFORMATION?” Upon settling back down, his head is just slightly closer to where Steve sits, the loose bottom half of his hair falling over the arm of the couch. 

With one arm wrapped around Robin, mindlessly drawing patterns in her cardigan sleeve, Steve’s other hand instinctually goes to stim somewhere else. The hand finds itself in the curly mess of hair near him, twirling it around his fingers. They stay that way in silence until the movie ends. The only noise left filling the room is Robin’s soft snoring. Eddie slowly stands, forgetting his hair is in Steve’s hand, the sudden loss of contact taking them both by surprise. A swift nod towards the trailer door is all Steve needs to detangle himself from Robin, wrapping her in a blanket before leaving. 

Eddie leads them to the back doors of his van. It opens up to reveal a fort of pillows and blankets. Eddie gets comfortable and pats the spot next to him for Steve to join. Eddie pulls the little black box holding his stash out from under the driver’s seat, as Steve grabs a handful of pillows and a loose blanket to make himself a little cocoon next to Eddie. 

“Cold, Harrington?” Eddie asks, not necessarily teasing. Well, maybe a little, but he doesn’t wait for a response before leaning over the center console to stick the keys in the ignition. The van starts up, filling the small space with warmth. Steve relaxes a bit as the warm air reaches him, which only reminds him of why he’s there at all. 

“Hold the fuck up, dude. Robin said your car broke down?”

“Oooh, shit. I forgot that was our story. She uh, she’s actually running just fine,” Eddie replies sheepishly. He passes Steve a freshly lit joint with an appeasing smile.

“So, what? You guys made up some kind of secret mission to get me to drive Robin around? I would have said yes if you just asked.”

“Exactly! That’s why we used driving Robin as the ploy to get you here.” Steve passes the joint back with a confused look on his face.

“That hard pressed for customers, Eds?” The nickname makes Eddie chuckle, but only slightly.

“No. No, I really don’t need any more customers actually. You’ve bought up nearly my whole stock.” Steve’s eyes widen. He knows he’s smoking probably more than he needs to, but damn, not that much.

“I- fuck. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to smoke you out of house and home, jesus.”

“Hey no apologies necessary over here. If anything you’re keeping me in house and home. You’re paying my bills, Stevie.” He takes a long drag before passing it back. Steve watches as Eddie’s head tilts back, letting the smoke stream out to hit the roof of the van. His head drops back down, meeting Steve’s eyes. He tries to take a hit to play it off, as Eddie continues.

“That’s actually why we wanted you to come over. Are you doing okay? I mean like, as okay as you could be?” 

Steve isn’t surprised. It isn’t the first time his behavior has alerted someone’s concern. After he and Robin experienced the highs (literally) and lows of Russian truth serum, Steve started drinking more and more in an attempt to forget what that horrible drug had felt like. Robin, of course noticed, having also been remembering that overwhelming, dread-induced, giggly feeling. 

Steve sighs out his hit, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I’m doing fine, man. Really, I’m… coping.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Steve.” Eddie’s face is suddenly intense, the space between his eyebrows all but gone, his lips steeled in a frown. “You’ve been coming to see me three times a week, and I know you’re not stocking up for a rainy day because you don’t like having a large amount in case the kids find it. Don’t think just because you hide behind those sunglasses we haven’t noticed the bags under your eyes. They get darker every single day, dude. When was the last time you slept through the night?”

“Why do you care?” Steve suddenly spits back. “You just said yourself, I’m paying your bills. Isn’t it beneficial for you not to ask questions and let it happen?”

“Normally, yes, but you’re not just a dickhead rich guy who buys weed off me. I mean you are, but you’re also my friend. As a rule, Eddie Munson does not supply self destruction. And while I firmly believe weed is beneficial as a medication, that doesn’t hold true when you’re soaking up your cotton mouth with a bottle of vodka.”

Steve can’t fully process what Eddie is saying to him. He’s too caught up on the word ‘friend”. Steve likes Eddie. He’s a lot more than what he seems on the surface, even made Steve feel a bit of relief tip-toeing around vines in the Upside Down. And those lips. Fuck. But can Steve safely say they’re friends? Eddie’s incredible, but Steve doesn’t deserve incredible. 

“Whiskey, actually,” Steve mutters under his breath. “Look man, I appreciate the concern. If you don’t feel comfortable selling to me anymore, I understand, but I should really get Robin back to my place, that couch is going to kill her neck.” 

Eddie has no chance to react. Steve’s already out of the van, waking Robin to drive them home.

The drive is silent. Steve knows Robin set the conversation up, and Robin knows Steve knows. Maybe she thought Eddie would have a rougher approach. The whole ‘scare him straight’ tactic. It might have worked, even, if Steve could believe help was coming to him with no ulterior motive. Maybe it has to do with how he was raised, or maybe it’s his form of repentance for the way he acted in high school. Whatever the reason, he can’t see the unconditional love the others hold for him.

When they finally pull into Steve’s driveway, Robin hesitates to turn off the car. “I know you’re probably mad at me, I know. I just wanted you to see that I’m not the only one.”

“The only one? What do you mean?”

“The only one who loves you, Steve. We just don’t want to see you suffer anymore. Just, please, say something. Even if you need to yell at me. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking… I’m thinking, I love you, Robin, and that’s never going to change. I’m not mad, really. I just don't know. I don’t know what I don’t know, I just know I don't know it.

“O– okay,” Robin says hesitantly. “So, you don’t mind if I stay over?”

“No, I don’t mind. I think I might actually need it.” Robin smiles softly at him. He means every word he says. Nothing could ever change the fact that he loves Robin. But, something is eating away at him. It was like pieces of his heart are slowly being flushed out of his body. Everyday he can feel all those positive emotions less and less.

Silence between them again, they swiftly make their way upstairs, working around each other to get ready for bed with ease. They’re a well oiled machine of toothbrushes, face washing, and pajamas. 

Robin crawls into Steve’s bed after him, both laying on their sides facing each other. Their hands intertwine in a ball between them. They slept like that almost every night following the mall incident, and it still brought them comfort to talk each other to sleep.

“Hey, Rob,” Steve whispers, not wanting to disturb the comfortable quiet between them. Robin hums in response. 

“I don’t know why we had to go through everything we’ve gone through. I still feel like… something is coming. I don’t know, maybe that’s dumb, but I just don’t believe it’s really over. I’m– I’m scared shitless rob.” He finally looks up from the four hands clasping each other on the bed. Robin is staring straight into his soul. She has tears in her eyes, which Steve rushes to wipe away and apologize, but she stops him. 

“Thank you, Steve. For telling me. To tell you the truth, I’ve been really scared too. It just feels like every time we get comfortable we get flipped on our heads again. I know you’ve been through more than me, so it’s not the same, but I really appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me.” Steve is smacked in the face by the power of the smile she gives him. His hands detangle themselves from Robin’s and wrap around her back, pulling her in for a hug. 

They sleep like that for a couple hours, until Steve wakes up from a nightmare, scars burning. The clock reads 6:30 AM, almost time to get up for their opening shift in two hours. Steve carefully pulls his arms away from Robin’s still sleeping form, and heads toward the bathroom. He checks the scars in the bathroom mirror. They look the same as always. Red. Bumpy. Disgusting.

The shirt drops with a heavy sigh and Steve trudges down the stairs to start breakfast, the only sure way to get Robin out of bed being the smell of sizzling bacon. He rounds the corner at the bottom of the stairs and enters the kitchen. Sitting out on the corner is half a bottle of whiskey. There’s a pot of coffee already brewed, still hot. Steve figures Robin must have gotten up to pee not too long ago and started the pot while she was up. He pours a cup and looks back at the bottle. Two hours was enough time to sober up after an Irish coffee. He grabs the bottle and twists the top off. The scent of the amber liquid tantalizing as it hits the mug full of coffee. He raises the drink to his lips, seconds away from taking the first sip, when it’s rudely yanked from his grip.

“What the hell?!” He shrieks, jumping at the sudden intrusion to the moment he assumed was private. 

“This what you eat for breakfast every day?” Eddie stands with Steve’s stolen coffee in hand, directly in his personal space. He’s back in his typical getup, though his hair is still half up as it had been the night before. It’s not unfamiliar, Eddie leaning in too close, throwing himself all over Steve, and he sees him dressed like this more often than not, but the look on Eddie’s face makes him nervous.  

“How the hell did you get in my house, Munson!” Steve realizes he’s shouting too late, as he hears shuffling on the stairs.

“Steve? What are you screaming abou–? Oh, hey Eddie.” Robin says, instantly relaxing into a smile and wave.

“Mornin, Buckley. I was just checking in on our boy here,” Eddie says with a strong hand clapping down on Steve’s shoulder. His knees buckle slightly under the weight.

“Wait, Rob, you knew he would be here? You watched me lock all the doors and you never went back downstairs. How did he get in here?”

“Duh, dingus, I gave him my key!”

“Okay, ignoring the fact that you apparently made yourself a key to my house, you then gave that key to Eddie and didn’t tell me? I thought I was about to be eaten alive by Dart.” Robin chuckles at the name. She had heard stories of Dustin’s pet demodog, though thankfully, she hadn’t been present to witness it.

“It was a necessary evil, dingus. Eddie is officially the babysitter’s babysitter!” Steve turns to look at Eddie who returns it with a smirk.

“And I need a babysitter because?”

Eddie speaks up to answer this time. “Because you have a problem, Steve. And maybe you don’t see it that way, but it’s the truth. So if I have to keep setting traps to pour down the drain until you realize you’re killing yourself and let us fucking help you, I will.” He punctuates the sentence with a flourish of the hand holding the mug, dumping the contents into the sink.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. We all cope differently, okay! You guys laugh at shitty movies about teenage murderers. Some people fuck their way through the whole town, and some people need to dull their thoughts so they can relax. What’s so wrong with that?”

“First of all, you just described three behaviors that fit yourself. Second, you are proving my point, pretty boy. You don’t see this as a problem, just like you don’t see that we really, honestly want to help you. You can kick and scream, call me a freak, annoy the shit out of me, I don’t care. I��m your friend, Steve, the same as Robin. We went through hell together, but you’re still stuck there. I’m here to lead the way out.” Steve, though annoyed, can’t help his eyes watering at the sentiment. Eddie the banished, who fought his way out of Mordor within an inch of his life, is still fighting. All for the sake of Steve. He can’t help the tears from flowing down his cheeks. 

[evita-shelby]

For the Eva event. Prompt: “You’re worthy of my love.” + “You’re so damn attractive, you know that?”

With Heaven x Eva, following my headcanons? 🥺🤍🖤

Garden of Eden

Heaven Lavey/Shelby x Eva Shelby

(Polyam, bisexual wlw, infidelity)

Gif by @jcmieschung-blog

Part ii

“You’re so damn attractive, you know that?” Eva said with approval as she saw Heaven dressed in her colors.

So fair and pale and dressed in black and red and gold.

A good and haunting contrast.

For a moment the angel looks like a demon straight from hell.

“You wear white so well, you look like an angel.” The French witch said in that soft and sweet tone of hers.

Bewitched you just as much as her appearance and aura did.

No wonder Arthur was besotted with her.

Not that he stood a chance, Arthur was too easily swept away by angelic fair-haired ladies with a saint-like appearance.

First Linda and now Heaven.

Linda had been fine the first few months before the golden haired woman showed her claws.

Eva didn’t mind claws; she had her own. Ten blood red and dangerously sharp claws.

Both were unsuited for each other, Arthur wanting salvation but doing nothing to obtain it and Linda finding herself sinking down with him.

In the end she broke it up calling him and all the family cursed, he took it badly ---he’d hit rock bottom by then --- and before they knew it, Arthur had been seen wandering drunk searching her.

For her safety and as a final courtesy after the shit hit the fan, Eva had gotten Linda in some school in a rural community in California.

A shame it came down to that.

And then, Heaven burst into their lives with Arthur, Arthur who finally got his shit together and decided he had to put the fucking effort to fix himself instead of leaving it to his brother, Polly or any poor woman that came his way.

Tommy was wary of Heaven, Polly and most of the family as well, fearing another Linda or something worse.

Arthur had never been strong on the inside; a few smiles and a fitted skirt were all that took Grace Burgess to get every drop out of him in 1919.

A witch as strong as Heaven Lavey could bewitch a weak man with ease and break him beyond repair once it burst like a soap bubble.

Eva had been taught how to control it, to use it as a weapon and put it away to avoid chaos.

It still had its issues, men and women still found her a real head-turner and could not help but want to know her.

Tommy had believed himself the exception and now they were married with two children.

Her magic had been strong enough to make him forget Grace even when he was in her bed most nights.

But they had developed enough love and friendship with each other to know what they have is true.

Until time proved them wrong, they were wary of the French Witch as pale as fresh snow.

Now Eva had found a friend in her, one she was as close to as one would say of a sister.

Except what she pretends is just platonic, has turned to attraction and even worse, the feeling is mutual.

A drunk kiss had turned into a confession and yet their love for their husbands does not change one bit.

They would not understand, both men loathe the idea of a sharing their witches and even less so if they knew who the other person was.

Tonight, they were to pretend nothing is going on.

That they are merely very good friends.

Good friends who kissed, fondled and fucked in the same beds they fucked their husbands in.

A love built on stolen moments.

A love that could get them killed and yet they cannot stop it no matter how much they try.

And yet when they find the ladies’ powder room empty and locked, they take their chance to show each other how much they love each other.

 “I love you.” The Mexican witch says as she wastes no time kissing her pretty witch, red ruby lips that fit so perfectly and taste so sweet even if she can taste Arthur in her mouth just as she knows Heaven can taste Tommy in hers.

“I’m not worthy of your love.” Heaven whispered back as if she wasn’t just as bad or worse than her.

“You’re worthy of my love, sweet angel. Of my love and his.”

[atiredfangirl]

Why do you dislike Bucktommy and Tommy so much? Is it due to his last behaviour, or better yet, that he didn't stick up for Chim and Hen and was, therefore compliant? If this is the case, aren't they showing that he has changed by showing that he is now cool with Hen and Chim? I'm asking as a black queer person.

Or is it because they've become quite popular in a matter of weeks? If so shouldn't people be allowed to ship, write and enjoy what they want?

Also, isn't it hypocritical of you to ship Buddie when the actor who plays Eddie has expressed some awful racist and homophobic views and things?

Since I had never posted about Tommy on this app before today, I am assuming you found me on Twitter and came here to ask this anonymously, but if you follow my Twitter, you can see that I did not hate Tommy or Bucktommy to begin with.

Yes, I was hesitant when they brought him back because of his history with Chimney and Hen, but I was not one of the fans that “hated” him. I was willing to give the character another chance. But I also haven’t forgotten if “honestly if I thought about you at all, I probably wouldn’t” or how he was compliant with what went down at the 118 before Bobby arrived.

But I was willing to forgive that because he seemed to have changed a lot! When 7x04 aired, I retweeted several tweets supporting them because even if I am a Buddie shipper, I can respect that this is a big deal for Buck and I’m really and truly a Buck stan at heart. Literally just want the man to be happy.

Then 7x05 aired, and after seeing how nervous Buck was, he still made that stupid little closet joke in front of Eddie, knowing damn well Buck wasn’t out to Eddie. That wasn’t okay with me (also as a Queer woman), and then he leaves Buck alone on the sidewalk, doesn’t even tell him until the Uber is there that he called one for himself.

And now I’m watching the sneak peeks for 7x06 and he’s put zero effort into dressing up for the party (being on call is a weak excuse - it’s not like he’s going up in the helicopter in jeans and a Henley - he’s gonna have to change either way) and even the Henley comment felt condescending and rude.

I’m not delusional, I’m well aware Buddie may never happen, but either way, there’s no way the writers are writing bucktommy as endgame either, so it’s not like it’s coming from a place of fearing he’s a threat to Buddie. I just don’t like him for Buck. It’s not new or personal - I’ve had reasons to dislike literally all of buck’s love interests. I just wasn’t particularly active on social media about this show before this season, even though I’ve been watching it since it began.

As for Ryan, I don’t associate the actor with the character. I learned a long time ago that if you want to enjoy fandoms and ships, it’s very important to separate characters from actors.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Summary: Mrs. Shelby considers the task laid before her.

Word Count: 1,218

Warnings: Sexual content and homophobia.

Previous Chapter • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 3: Three Nights Before the Party

She spent most of the day working–or trying to work–on preparations for the party that was in a few days. It was an important affair. Their courtship had been so quick, the marriage so hasty, that she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to meet any of his family yet.

To say she was nervous would be an understatement. She so terribly needed them all to like her. 

And she was terrified that one of them was going to figure out her secret.

She’d mailed a letter to her father earlier that day, detailing within it everything she had overheard Tommy say regarding his political plans, and the things she’d read in the documents on his desk she’s snooped through while he was out in the stables checking on the horses.

She had agreed to this plan wholeheartedly, and yet now that she was actually right in the center of it, her nerves were just about frayed. Playing spy was far more stressful than she expected it to be.

Her father was a politician, often on opposing sides from Tommy on a wide array of issues. He and his allies had been looking for a way to undermine Tommy’s political aspirations for a while, and when she’d hit it off with him at a banquet, they’d seen their chance. The marriage was presented to Tommy as a way to forge an alliance between the two opposing men. Her father was pretending to play nice, offering Tommy support on many of his initiatives, while she sent him information regarding her husband’s plans so he could undermine them.  

The twisting snake of guilt in her stomach didn’t help things. Despite being a little aloof, Tommy had been nothing but kind to her; it really didn’t seem right. But she had promised her father.

And yet she was also very sure she was falling in love with the man she was betraying. And falling hard.

That, combined with running around and ensuring that all the arrangements for the party were in order, left her frazzled and thoroughly exhausted. 

Not to mention the memory of her two consecutive nightmares was always there in the back of her mind, tormenting her. Every time she walked past one of the portraits of the redhead, her throat constricted with fear, rage, and grief. Just the mere idea of Tommy being unfaithful made her want to cry, and the thought that the nightmares weren’t nightmares at all, but something else entirely, left her so paralyzed with fear she felt as though her mind might snap from the stress.

When her head hit the pillow that night, she was asleep in a matter of moments.

Before she even opened her eyes, she felt the warmth of breath fanning over her face. For a moment, she thought it might have been Tommy, looking to wake her up for a fuck before he went to sleep.

But then the scent of roses lodged itself into her nose, and she knew it wasn’t him.

Eyes snapping open, she stared in rigid terror at the thing hovering above her, her hands braced on either side of her head, thighs straddling her waist, face but inches from hers.

“Hello, love,” the monster rasped. The fangs and claws were still there, and two horns had sprouted on her head, peeking out from the thick curls of red hair.

Mrs. Shelby couldn’t have said anything even if she wanted to; her vocal cords had frozen with terror.

“I’m sorry for not properly introducing myself the past two nights. I don’t get out so much these days. My social skills could use a little work,” she smiled.

“I-I don’t-” Mrs. Shelby stammered.

“Oh, look at you…” the thing whispered, stroking a single sharp claw lightly down her cheek. “Oh…I bet you taste sweet, don’t you, love? Like strawberries…”

“Please don’t hurt me,” Mrs. Shelby managed to sob out, for a moment wondering if the thing on top of her was a vampire, come to suck her dry. The creature laughed, a soft musical sound.

“Oh, honey, no…my department’s the exact opposite of that, actually…”

Mrs. Shelby stuttered, taking in the monster’s position on top of her, straddling her hips, clothed in but a sheer, very low cut nightgown. She felt bile rise in her throat at what the thing was implying. Disgust, ingrained in her from years of Catholic school and dutiful attendance to Church, washed over her.

She would never consider laying with someone who wasn’t her husband, let alone a woman. It would be an affront to God.

The thing on top of her hissed, jerking away from her and wrinkling her nose as if she had smelt something sour.

“Closed minded and devout, hm? Just like Tommy said…but I could help you change that, if you wanted…” she whispered.

“Please get off of me,” Mrs. Shelby croaked out, hands balled into fists at her sides. The redhead raised a sculpted eyebrow, but slid off of her, rolling to lay lazily in the middle of the bed.

“Why did you have to go and choose to marry a prude?” she complained.

“You know exactly why I chose her,” came a familiar husky voice, and without the thing looming over her, Mrs. Shelby was able to turn her head to stare at Tommy where he was laying on his side on the bed, his head propped up with one arm and expression subtly amused as he watched the exchange.

“Such a shame,” the redhead shook its head, pouting up at Tommy as he shifted, half leaning over her. “We could have had so much fun together. Even despite the other thing.”

“What other thing?” Mrs. Shelby asked, sitting up. The monster giggled, reaching up to stroke Tommy’s face. He didn’t take his eyes off of her; Mrs. Shelby might as well have not been there at all. Those dark green eyes shot her a knowing look.

“You already know what ‘other thing,’ love,” she purred. Tommy had dropped his face to nuzzle at her cheek, then kissed her neck. Mrs. Shelby barely recognized her husband; never before had she seen him so gentle and blatantly tender. “Now,” the monster wriggled in the bed, getting more comfortable. “If you aren’t going to participate, the least you could do is leave us alone. I gave you that whole week in Paris to yourselves during your honeymoon. Just about starved myself, actually. It’s my turn with him now.”

Mrs. Shelby gaped at it, mind swirling with the most absurd, baffling of questions. The creature gave her one last stern look, then turned away, distracted as Tommy lifted his head from her neck, cupping the side of her face with his palm, and kissed her.

Mrs. Shelby made a small, pained sound at the sight, heart twisting. The creature opened her lips to his, the bed shifting as Tommy more fully situated himself on top of her, a soft moan coming from the redhead’s throat, the kiss deepening with wet smacking sounds.

Unable to bear anymore, Mrs. Shelby looked away and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the bed was empty save for her and Tommy, fast asleep beside her.

But when she reached out towards him, it was to find that the space between them was warm.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[dammit-neal]

I big agree with you on the buck and Tommy of it all. And tonight really did very little to sell me on it even more. Like his remark about plenty of closet space to buck in front of Eddie and Marisol absolutely sent me. Like that’s such a shitty thing to say to someone who is clearly panicking and very much not out. And he knew Buck wasn’t out at that point. He was literally asking questions on how to come out right before it. And had Marisol and Eddie clocked his comment he’d have just outted him to them.

Hi Anon! I agree with some of your points, but not all. Tommy's remark about closet space did send me--but in a different way: I was laughing my ass off. Buck 100% deserved that, he was being an idiot. I can't blame Buck for it, he was in a high pressure situation and reacted out of fear, and this is Eddie we're talking about, I'm pretty sure Evan Buckley would break the world before he risked losing Eddie. I can't say that in Buck's shoes I would've reacted any differently, but in Tommy's shoes I also wouldn't have reacted differently. People are imperfect, and sometimes we rub off on each other like velvet and other times like sandpaper, that's part of the fun. Was Tommy expecting a LOT by expecting Buck to just come out to his BFF right there in that moment, especially when the whole conversation beforehand was a very clear indication of Buck's nerves on the matter? Yes, he was, and I totally agree with you there. Having said that, after the life he's lived, it probably brings back a lot of bad memories for Tommy to be shoved back in the closet. It's why I actually liked that moment in the episode, it felt very human to me. No one was being an angel, everyone was just trying their best and failing.

Now on the Buck and Tommy of it all in general, yeah I think we're on the same page. I'm a buddie shipper to the end, and while I appreciate that Tommy is currently serving a purpose and I'm relieved that he has a personality and is actually fun to watch (and that his actor Lou Ferrigno Jr is a real sport dealing with all of us), it makes me nervous that there is a number of fans who are like "nah this works for me as endgame." If we lose sight of what we've been reaching for this whole time, then TPTB will feel no pressure to follow this through to the end, and after all we've been through that would be a tragedy. So I hope people remember why we're here and don't lose sight of that.

[howaboutcastiel]

The Robe and Crown: Part 2.5

I know this story is slow as hell moving but that’s because my brain is slow as hell moving <3. The previous Part. Masterlist.

Summary: it isn’t aftercare, but it’s something.

Content: offense? Religious talk, plot talk. Miniature installment.

You laid as far apart as possible at first, with your backs to one another and arms on the edge of the bed. Joel wasn’t going to get any sleep like that, you knew. Not with the stiffness in his back and the way he seemed so unsatisfied with his left ear against the pillow. You hadn’t really expected any sleep of your own, but you couldn’t let yourself be the reason he tossed and turned. 

When you heard a faint sigh of frustration come from him, you decided you needed to signal to him that it was okay. As loudly as you dared, you turned underneath the covers to lay on your stomach, a few inches closer. Joel swiveled around to look at you and, seeing the lack of tension in your position, allowed himself to relax a bit. He settled slowly onto his back, an apparent weight off of his chest just to be laying flat. 

But neither of you felt any closer to sleep, and you had no hope of pretending that the person beside you wasn’t awkwardly listening to your uneven breaths. 

Joel was the first to speak up. He’d felt the bit of fear coming off you again. “I’m sorry.”

You turned your head to face him instead of the wall. His eyes were trained on the ceiling fan. 

“About your husband. I’m sorry for—for upending your life.”

He wasn’t really that sorry. Not about your husband, at least, and not about getting you away from that forsaken reverend, but Joel was genuinely remorseful for the way he’d changed your life so drastically in a matter of minutes. Maybe you had more family back at that village. You probably had friends, people you cared about, and keepsakes and such that he hadn’t thought to let you bring along. And even if he wasn’t sorry about shooting your spouse between the eyes, he sincerely regretted that you’d had to watch. You would probably never get that image out of your head. 

He knew that from experience. 

You didn’t acknowledge his apology, but you did whisper a groggy response. “That man, Tommy, he’s your family, right? Is he your brother?”

Joel pried his eyes away from the fan. “He is—Younger by a few years. Guess I’ve always been takin’ care of him.”

His lips pulled up into a lazy half-smile. 

“He takes care of you, too.”

A lump in his throat made his laugh crack apart. “He does.”

Now Joel’s eyes had properly settled on your face. You looked fucking tired. Really, truly tired, beyond what a person’s body and mind could take. Joel supposed everyone was about that tired. He sure as hell was. His body ached like someone had cracked apart his bones, one by one. His mind had grown fatigued from its constant racing. That didn’t mean it was any easier to sleep. 

Your face was puzzled, as if there were words on the tip of your tongue you couldn’t decide whether to let slip out. Joel wasn’t one for talking much, especially not about himself, but he found the same thing happening to him. He wanted to take the pressure off of you. 

Even though that had never mattered to him before with anyone else. 

He rolled his eyes at himself before he started. “A few months back, we were travelin’ with one of Tommy’s buddies from the military. Weather ain’t too cold in Georgia, even in the winter, but there’s always storms. I don’t know what to call it—maybe a hurricane, maybe not. Point is, we didn’t eat for days and there was hardly anywhere to hide from the rain. His friend didn’t make it. ‘Suppose that’s why he—why he didn’t want you taggin’ along.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured against his ear. The bed was only a double and both of you were closer than comfort really allowed. 

Joel dipped his head. “I don’t know what life is like for you back at that village. I guess it’s none of my business. What I saw in that chapel, though, I gotta say—it ain’t supposed to be like that.”

You sighed silently. “I know.”

He furrowed his brow. When you turned your head to properly face him, your expression was resigned. Joel felt his chest heat up again, and another wave of guilt spread along his throat. Your fists clenched and you squeezed your eyes shut, fighting off the dissociative glare that was trying to come back. 

Joel bit his lip. “I’m not… trying to step on anyone’s religion…” 

“You’re not,” you blurted. He grimaced again, confused. “Not on mine, at least. I’m not completely an idiot. I know that’s a fucked up place back there.”

“Then why stay?”

You could see on his face that Joel was utterly lost. A crooked smile grew on your lips. 

“You ever read The Handmaid’s Tale?” Joel shook his head at the question. “Yeah, well, they made us read it in college. It’s amazing how men and women imagine a dystopia so differently.”

He was really trying to understand, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. You sighed, “Anyway, I never thought that it would actually happen like that. Not in the 21st century, you know? Irony is only funny to a point, I guess.”

“You went to college?” He seemed shocked. You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Does that surprise you?”

Joel swallowed hard. “I thought places like that didn’t let people go to school.”

You shook your head, turning away from him. His stomach dropped before you even spoke. 

“I was a person long before I was breeding stock, Joel.”

His blood ran cold again. That sticky, guilty feeling was back and his heart had picked up that brutal, uneven rhythm. When you moved your head to face the other way, you winced at the way your shirt tugged on your sensitive back. He didn’t have anything to say. Joel wanted to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, or maybe somewhere else, but that would only make it worse. He should have never touched you in the first place. Should have never taken advantage of you, just like you had expected of him. 

It was quiet for a minute, not that either of you had relaxed. Not that either of you had any chance of falling asleep, even now. Joel’s guilt bubbled in his stomach, making him sick. He hadn’t felt so guilty in a long time. He’d done plenty of bad things since the world ended, but nothing had ever gotten to him like this. This wasn’t just blood on his hands. 

His ears rang when he spoke. “How old are you?” 

You sighed heavily into the pillow. 

“Twenty-six. Coulda earned my degree if Cordyceps had just held off a few months.”

“You were in Charlotte, then? When it happened?” Joel didn’t know why it mattered. Or why he cared. 

It took a minute for you to respond. “Yeah.”

“How’d you get here?” He was pushing his luck. 

You went silent. Joel got the feeling he shouldn’t have asked. 

Your voice was a whisper. “My brother.”

Oh.

“He’s dead,” you added. You didn’t seem too upset by it. 

Still, Joel was sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

His apology fell on dead silence. Joel’s whole fucking body was on fire again. His heart hammered against his chest and now, he thought that he really might be sick. 

Joel knew you didn’t need this from him. He should have just gone to the fucking basement from the start. Why did he have to make things worse? He shouldn’t have touched you. The sickly heat in his gut threatened to boil over. Joel got up from the bed, repeating himself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

And you didn’t stop him as he walked out the door, leaving you alone in the bed, still slowly leaking his regret onto the sheets. 

~~•~~

so here’s the thing about this. I did my pacing all wrong and now instead of being a neat 4 chapter story it’s gonna be little chunks. Soz

@frogers I think wanted to know when there was another part? No other tags I don’t think. Except @romanarose

[wozman23]

Tonight, On A Very Special Clone High Tribute

I don’t quite remember how I found Clone High in 2002. I’d assume being a fan of Will Forte put it on my radar. Or possibly that it was a Bill Lawrence project that relied heavily on the Scrubs cast. Whatever the case, it quickly rivalled Futurama to be quite possibly my favorite cartoon. But, just as it was getting started, the flame died out, mostly due to backlash with the portrayal of Ghandi. I’d always held onto hope that with the massive success of the creators Phil Lord and Chris Miller, maybe, just maybe we’d see the project again. When I moved out to LA in 2017, one of the first Hollywood-like things I had the pleasure of doing was attending the Clone High Reunion at the Vulture Festival. I was in awe of the talent in that room. The creators and voice cast are legendary. I got to interact with Forte and take a selfie. Then I met Tommy Walter, the man behind the infectious theme song, credited to his band, Abandoned Pools. By that point, not only was I a massive fan of Clone High, but of Tommy’s as well. He wasn’t putting out new Abandoned Pools music, instead focusing on his budding family and more traditional soundtrack and scoring work. But I remember telling him, dressed to the nines in my Sublime Currency shirt, that if he ever got back around to putting out more Abandoned Pools music, I’d be there to support it. But there wasn’t any real momentum for a second season, or more music from Tommy. Years passed. A silly Easter egg appeared in Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, but even that just felt like Phil and Chris just paying their respects to their former franchise.

Then all that changed, on both fronts. Tommy announced he was Kickstarting a new Abandoned Pools album. I threw money at it. And not much later, Clone High was renewed for another season. I was pumped!... And then, wildly, it was picked up for another season on top of that! Say What?!

Well we’re finally here in 2023, over 20 years after I fell in love with the original run. And it’s everything I could have hoped for! Initially I had my doubts about the show returning. Ghandi was a crucial character. How could you replace him? How would you reference his absence? Thankfully, it was done beautifully in a multitude of ways, through some jokes and sight gags, as well as by introducing a new cast of characters to make up for his absence. While I initially wasn't all that invested in the new cast, I warmed up to them rather quickly. And I love how their character design boldly contrasts the original clones. Candide is a terrific addition as well. I was also concerned about whether or not the show would mold itself to modern times. In 2002, it felt so ahead of its time. Many of the cartoons these days irk me. Shows like Bob’s Burgers, Rick & Morty, Family Guy (the list goes on...) feel like they rely far too much on over the top voice acting to deliver serviceable scripts. There were also concerns about whether or not the animation style would be overhauled. Thankfully all of these fears were quickly quelled. Stylistically the show picks up right where it left off. The off-beat, angular style of everything is still front and center. The backgrounds still juxtapose the action beautifully. Everything is just so wonderfully distinct. And it still has so much of that offbeat humor that made it great. 

While one could easily enjoy the show without prior knowledge of the series, it’s chocked full of fan service. I was grinning within the first minute thanks to the dolphin sound. Minor characters are a joy to see, especially when voiced by the Scrubs cast. The new intro slaps, just like the original, which is what originally made me seek out the other work by Abandoned Pools. Hearing it modified many more times to fit the episodes’ themes was a welcome revival. Will Forte’s voice over introductions were as quirky as ever. Tommy’s more involved hands created some wonderful and weird music. It’s just such a joy, and a joy that I really didn’t ever think I’d get to witness again. Besides all of those qualities, one other thing that really cemented the original run as a favorite was the show’s ability to feel unique with many episodes. My favorite was probably the episode about smoking raisins because it was such a departure with its overall style and visuals. This season hosted multiple episodes like that. It’s all still so fresh in my mind, but the For Your Consideration episode really knocked it out of the park when it came to experimenting further with styles. Plus we got Mr. B backstory... Wesley. I feel like in my more recent years I’ve become somewhat of a softie. I used to never tear up over shows, or video games, or other works of art. But when Abandoned Pools’ “Remember to Remember Memories” unfurled, I got emotional. I’m not crying, it’s my contacts. There must be something in my eye. I’m sad to see it so quickly wrap up, but there’s still so much left for me to re-explore and digest. I’ll really need more time to go back through this season. Five weeks flew by like nothing. But as it ramped up, I found myself more and more enamored with the show again. The last four episodes really stood out. And the ending should take it in an interesting direction for next season. So I absolutely can’t wait to see what all those involved cook up in the not-too-distant-future, whether that be next season’s episodes, or that album Tommy is working on. It’s also absurd that Futurama is FINALLY back from the dead soon too!!! Here’s to hoping it picks up where it left of just as well as Clone High did...

[delfiore]

don’t fear the reaper [part ii]

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

synopsis: wanda finds a little help to figure out why she is stuck in this reality from her host.

word count: 1.0k

a/n: hey thank you for 1000+ notes on the 1st part everybody 😭 this is my first 1k post so it’s very exciting and i just wanna say themks 👉👈

MINOR SPOILERS FOR MoM??

part i, <<>> part iii, part iv

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Her sleep has become dreamless ever since she started inhabiting Elizabeth Olsen’s body.

It was nothingness, and when she woke up, you were right beside her. It was strange not being able to see Billy and Tommy anymore, but she knew she had to make peace with it, especially now that she had you with her.

She also no longer had access to her magic, because Elizabeth Olsen never had the need to unlock it. Besides, it wasn’t magic that brought her here. Wanda would know.

Camera flashes everywhere. People were calling at her, telling her to look their way. There were, what she presumed, fans dressed up as in her suit, waving at her.

She saw your lips move, but could barely make out what it was over the commotion. “Are you alright?”

It was strange. She had never had so many people cheer for her before. People have always been too afraid of her and her powers.

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Over here!”

“Over here, please!”

“Jamie! Give her a kiss!”

At this, you chuckled, and leaned in for a chaste kiss on her cheek. At your slight smirk, heat crawled up her neck.

You went by a different name in this reality. Jamie Vossman. She didn’t mind the change, because it was still you; your mannerisms, your sense of humor, the way she felt most secure when she was with you. She could be flung across the multiverse, but she’d still recognize you, her love, even without magic.

You were sitting by the island in the kitchen, eyes glued to your phone.

When looked up at her with raised eyebrows, it was as if Wanda forgot how to breathe. Smiling warmly, you extended your arms, beckoning her to come closer. Once she did, you pressed her to you, and nuzzled your head into her neck.

“People are going crazy about the movie. I know you don’t like seeing people’s reactions on social media, but they’re loving Wanda.” You mumbled quietly, and pressed short kisses onto her collar bone.

She was in the movie theater watching it with you. She feared people’s reaction to her, but surprisingly, a lot of them was whistling and cheering when she appeared on-screen.

There was a part of her that was relieved that some people could see where she was coming from. After all, she was just a mother desperate to see her children again.

“Can I,” she said, “can I see the things that people are saying?”

You nodded, and handed her your phone. There were many positive comments of people understanding why she did what she did, how she fell under the Darkhold’s influence, how loss has pushed her down this path.

Those were easy to read, but the ones she remembered more were the ones criticizing her.

“She’s a murderer. She killed all those people!”

“I really don’t care that she died. Like, goodbye.”

“She was ready to kill a child just to get what she wants. I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can sympathize with her after that.”

She put your phone back down on the counter. She knew she deserved that.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stirred beside her, and stretched with a cute whine. “Morning.”

“Good morning, darling.” She smiled and pushed some hair out of your face.

You leaned over to kiss her. “Breakfast?”

She nodded and watched with a giggle as you begrudgingly left the comfort of your shared bed.

But it wasn’t as if she didn’t try. The effort she usually put in to produce the tiny spark of magic in her hand now had to be tripled, quadrupled at times.

She could feel Elizabeth fighting relentlessly in her mind, her yells and screams clouding her head.

She didn’t even know there was a universe in which she was an actor playing a role of herself. Why was she here? Is this some kind of trick? A prison reality made just to trap her in?

Wanda needed answers. She closed her eyes, and conjured up the most magic she could to infiltrate her own mind, searching through the storms of her own memories and consciousness, to find Elizabeth.

The actress was behind a yellow door, and when Wanda opened it, was looking just as surprised to see her.

“You’re Wanda, aren’t you?” She asked, her American accent foreign on her own tongue.

“Yes.” She answered.

“Look, I don’t know what you want in this . . . reality, but there’s nothing here. I need my body back. Please give me back to Jamie.”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda shook her head. “I don’t know how I got here either. I-I’m trying to figure it out, but I just don’t know where to start.”

I was hoping you could help me.

Elizabeth was pensive for a moment. “What if . . .”

She hesitated, as if what she was thinking of sounded absurd. “What if you could revisit your history?”

Wanda tilted her head, perplexed.

“What if there was a way for you to look back on what happened?”

“Are you talking about time travel?” Wanda gulped, remembering what happened with Agatha forced her through her memories.

“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m talking about rewatching yourself, o-or myself, on film. I’m not saying to watch the entire MCU, just maybe the parts in which you appear.”

Wanda blinked. This world contained an entire cinematic franchise of lore that resembled her own reality, that the people watched for entertainment. She appeared in the newest installment . . . How crazy could this be?

“Do you really think this will work? That I’ll find my answers in some movies?”

“It can’t hurt to try.” Elizabeth shrugged.

Wanda nodded distantly. She turned to leave, but hesitated. Elizabeth was looking back at her expectantly.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” Wanda said, flashing her variant a tight smile. “And I’m sorry for all of this.”

“If your reality is anything like what was written in the script for those movies,” she shook her head, “you mustn’t have had it easy. And please, call me Lizzie.”

When Wanda opened her eyes again, she was back in the bedroom. Lizzie’s words echoed in her mind.

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part i, <<>> part iii

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