#it has literally never been said like that before as far as I know???
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November 23: The Dorm Room | word count: 953 | @wolfstarmicrofic
Sirius never imagined he would get anything like this. The comfortable domesticity of lying in bed, curled around somebody else, not a care in the world. No overwhelming thoughts or memories, no residual pain lingering, nothing except him and the boy he loves. They lay tangled around each other, limbs indecipherable, bodies pressed as tight as they can go. Remus is carding his fingers through Siriusâ hair, drawing the occasional moan from his lips.
âYou know, Iâve been thinking.â Sirius speaks into the silence. It has been weighing on his mind for a while now, this idea, and he needs confirmation that he is not alone in these too-big feelings.
âHave you now?â Remus replies, only halfway mocking.
âI have. Itâs about us.â
âUs?â
âNothing bad.â Sirius rushes to assure. He wonât let that small seed of doubt get planted in Remusâ mind. Sirius isnât going anywhere, not unless he has quite literally no other choice. And even then he will go kicking and screaming. âI⊠well⊠Iâve been saving up my allowance for years now, ever since things started getting really bad at home. And I⊠Iâve⊠I have enough saved now for us to get a flat. Or at least, get us started.â
âOh.â
âUnless that isnât something you want. Because I understand if it is too early or you need some space from me. I know Iâve been clingy, but I can stop. I just⊠you make me feel so good, and you keep me from going to dark places. Iâve never had anybody like that before, so Iâno, itâs okay. I know Iâm too much; I can stop. I wonât be so pushy. Iâllâoumph.â His rant is cut off by Remusâ lips against his. As always, he melts into the kiss, dragging himself impossibly closer to Remus.
âNever stop.â Remus commands when he breaks the kiss. âDo you hear me? Never stop being you.â
âButââ
âNo. You will not change for anybody. And you will certainly not change yourself for me. I love you just how you are.â
âDid you justââ
Remusâ whole body goes rigid, his beautiful autumn eyes flying wide open. He looks so young and innocent like this, even as fear holds his body captive.
âI love you, Remus. You have no idea how much I do. I was afraid I would say it too soon and rush things. James said itâs never too early to say it, but you know how he is. He practically proposed to Reggie on their first date. Remus, Godric, did you really think I would ask you to move in with me if I didnât love you with every fiber of my being?â
âIâI didnât mean toâIt was supposed to be special.â
âIt was special.â Sirius promises. âIt was special because it was you. No matter how or when you said it, it would be special, because you are special.â
âSiriusâŠâ
âI love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.â Each proclamation is punctuated with a kiss.
âSiriâno, wait!â Remus shrieks, trying to duck under the covers, but Sirius has his mind set on kissing every inch of Remusâ face, and he wonât be swayed from this essential mission. So, he loops his arms around Remusâ neck, and rolls his weight over him. His heart swells at the sight of the boy spread out below him, giggling and trying to squirm away from the overt affection.
Godric, he is the luckiest man on earth.
Seemingly having had enough of the pecking kisses, Remus ducks his head, moving to capture Siriusâ lips with his own. He eagerly follows Remusâ lead, glad to do anything he wants. He would walk to the ends of the earth if the other boy declared he must. He would go against his own morals if Remus asked with a smile. Heâs fully lost in the whirlpool of love, but he isnât desperate to get out any time soon, instead willing to drown himself in it.
âSo, about the futureâŠâ
âYeah?â Sirius asks, leaning his head on Remusâ chest. He is still laying fully on top of him, but he is far too content here to move, and Remus doesnât seem to want him to move either if the arms looped around his waist, are any indication.
âIâve been thinking too.â
âOh, do tell.â
âWell, I think we have a cabin. I donât care much for the city, and I think you would like a change in pace after your childhood. Itâs not too far from townâa muggle one, where we donât have to worry about my status. We are far enough that the Full Moon doesnât pose any risks, but close enough that we could take walks into town if we want.â
âA cabin up on a hill so we can watch the sunrise and sunset together?â
âOf course. The windows are always open, and there is no dark hidden corners. Nothing that would remind us of home. This is ours. I would have books everywhere. You would try to organize them for me, but I would just take them down again. And you would have your own studio, in a room full of windows and light, where you could paint anything and everything you could imagine.
âWe would have to have a floo, so our friends can visit whenever they want. And we would have to have game nights, canât leave all our habits behind when we graduate.â
âYour mind is beautiful.â
âAnd yours is brave enough to get us there.â
Unable to help himself, Sirius dives in for another kiss. âTo our future together, may we grow old and grey.â
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you know i've always liked entity patrick interpretations, but what if it was a red herring or something? hear me out. canonically speaking, as far as i'm aware (from the forum posts we recently gained access back to) it's confirmed that michael and patrick are a DID system. now if you know anything about DID, there's the concept of pseudomemories, which are most present in fictives i think? but it's not exclusive to them. terms like these don't have one, perfect little definition you can simply find, but the best way i know how to describe them is as memories that didn't actually, literally happen, but still often carry emotional significance for the person who has them. they can be allegorical too, representing something that's too hard to remember in a more easy to digest way. but keep in mind i'm not a doctor or some shit, so don't take what i've heard as gospel just because i myself have DID. i just hope this gives context to my little idea
anyways. what if patrick's memories of being from a time before michael, all the entity-esque stuff he thinks he knows about himself, are actually pseudomemories? he thinks he's an entity because that's what he remembers, he has some non-human abilities like teleportation (though i think that's all we ever see), and i think deep down he's always seen himself as an outsider. it's his way of coping with the fact that he's been so hard to accept into the family, it's his way of rationalizing it and making it easier. of course he's othered, he IS an other. of course he doesn't feel like he fits in, he was never MADE to fit in. it's his way of keeping distance between himself and michael, and him and shaun, even when both start to accept him and see him as another sibling. like i said- it can make things easier to digest
but the truth underneath it all is, both michael and patrick are capable of these nonhuman-y abilities, michael just doesn't know how to use them. patrick has always been a part of the family, he just refuses to accept it because he doesn't want to feel vulnerable, doesn't want to open himself up when he fears being shut down yet again. habit and patrick DO "go way back," but that's because the andersen's reiterate; it's still always been michael, shaun, and himself since the beginning. and patrick keeps getting holes in his memory. losing time, losing key details that would make it obvious to him. things about himself that he doesn't understand. and michael doesn't have the heart to tell him, because it's a sort of coping mechanism. i think that only when everyone around him finally accepts him as he is, doesn't treat him like an outsider anymore for a prolonged period of time so he starts to feel more comfortable- that's when patrick finally comes to terms with it, and accepts it
so yeah. the ultimate combining of interpretations
#og#mlandersen0#mla0#slenderverse#patrick andersen#michael andersen#i love humanizing patrick and accepting that he has a whole slew of his own trauma and issues... free my man
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AO3 | WC: 7.8k | Rated: E | CW: Internalized homophobia, references to the death of a parent, lots of swearing and general vulgarity from the both of them. Drug usage. Discussions of trading sex acts for drugs. Billy being an asshole but hey thatâs new. | Tags: ADHD Eddie Munson, Semi-closeted Eddie, Fully-closeted Billy, One-Sided Steddie (or is it? We donât know because of unreliable narrator reasons) Bully Billy Hargrove, Bullied Eddie Munson, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Eddie calls Billy âmâlordâ in here god help him, Happy Ending, some angst sprinkled throughout, but overall quite fluffy.
(Title is inspired by a song of the same name by Chromeo.)
Summary:
âIâll cut you a deal, Munson,â Billy says, his icy-pop blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the end of his stolen cigarette. âIâll let you have something. Yâknow, as payment.â
But pretty as Billy is, Eddieâs no sucker. âI donât do trades either.â
âYouâre gonna wanna hear this trade.â Billy exhales a cloud of white smoke between them.
Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. âSpit it out then.â
Billy Hargrove stands there, half-smirk on his face, hips tilted forward. Like heâs Godâs fucking gift. âIâll let you suck my dick.â
And that.
Well.
Eddie isnât exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell isnât that.Â
Or, Billy tries to pay for drugs by offering to let Eddie blow him.
Of all the mugs Eddie expects to see in his neck of the woods, the one attached to Billy Hargrove, resident bad boy slash heartthrob with a notoriously short fuse and a mean right hook, is not one of âem.
The fact that heâs alone isnât much of a comfort, but itâs⊠well, itâs something. It means if Billyâs planning on jumping him and stealing his stash, then at least Eddieâs got a shot at running and actually getting away with all his teeth intact.
Eddie sucks back on his cigarette, grateful he has something to do with his fidgeting hands as he eyes Hargroveâs approach. Tries his best to keep stillâsomething heâs always been absolute dog shit at. Even as a little kid. They tossed words at him like Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity âtil the cows came home. Never changed anything, though. Mom always just called it ants in his pants. For Uncle Wayne, it was worms up his butt. All said in love, of course. Eddie was ant and worm-free, far as he knew. Just had a lot of energy is all. And a lot to say too. That isnât a crime! But right now, under Billy Hargroveâs slow approach, he tries his damndest to get all his ants and his worms to settle down. No sudden moves in front of ticking time bombs.
âYouâre Munson, right?â Hargrove asks in a low, slightly nasally voice. Heâs stopped a few feet from the picnic table that Eddieâs perched on, his canister of goodies sitting unassumingly beside him.
Eddie fights his nervesâbulldozes over them, more like, and smiles wide, holding out his arms in a display of showmanship. âThe one and only.â
Billy scoffs as his eyes travel around the clearing. Doesnât seem too impressed by the olâ Munson razzle-dazzle. âYou alone out here?â he asks, eyes finally returning to Eddieâs.
Eddie shifts, leaning forward slightlyâliterally on edge. Why the hell did he have to say that so fucking ominously? âI was âtil you showed up,â Eddie answers.
Billy hums noncommittally and doesnât even try to hide the way heâs looking Eddie up and down. Sizing him up. Double-checking to make sure Eddieâs not a threat, maybe. Eddie fights the urge to duck his head and pull his shoulders in to assure Billy that he isnât one. Heâs a lover, not a fighter. In theory, anyway.
âNow what can I do for you on this fine evening, Mr. Hargrove? I donât keep everything on meâŠâ Eddie trails off before he continues, âBut I got anything youâd want.â
Billy snorts, âYeah, Iâll bet.â
âYouâre from Cali, right? I got weed from there. Stuff that tastes like blueberries,â Eddie leans forward and bounces his brows, âI got some shrooms from the coast too that could even knock someone like you on your ass. So, whatâre you into, Hargrove? Whatâs your poison?â
Billyâs got an amused look on his face. Heâs smirking, but no part of itâs warm or welcoming. It sets Eddie even further on edge than he already had been. âYou sure know a lot about me.â
Eddie shrugs, feigning innocence. He takes another pull from his cigarette. âItâs a small town; people talk. Especially around people like me. Yâknow, the kinda people who donât matter in the grand scheme of things. And you, Billy Hargrove, youâre, wellâŠâ
Eddie bites his tongue before he continues to embarrass himself. Clears his throat instead, tries to think of something not entirely stupid to say, but the words rush around his noggin so quickly that he canât seem to catch and pin down any one of âem.
The forest floor crunches under the sole of Billyâs heavy black boots as he takes a slow, purposeful step forward. âIâm what, freak?â
Eddie swallows. Feels the hair on the back of his neck stand. Jesus, does this guy ever blink? Fucking blue-eyed people and their zombie staresâŠ
He smiles despite his nerves. Then, with a tilt of his head, he answers. âYouâre hard to miss.â
Itâs grounds to get punched, Eddie knows. Innocent as the comment is, Eddieâs been hit for less. Shit, he got shoved into a locker for looking too long that one time in middle school. Spent the whole fucking lunch break with no one but his ripe gym socks to keep him company. So yeah, maybe Eddieâs a little jumpy around jocks like Billy Hargrove who look like they could fold Eddie into a pretzel without breaking a sweat.
Billy doesnât look like heâs gearing up to punch Eddie, though. Not yet anyway. He just looks sort of⊠amused.
Itâs getting late. The sunâs low in the sky, and every few seconds it catches on Billyâs earring or his chain, both temporarily blinding him. Eddie doesnât let his eyes wander, though. Heâs got enough self-discipline for that at least.
âIâll take some of that blueberry kush,â Billy finally says, checking over his shoulder one last time before he flicks his head towards Eddie. âBut I donât got any money. Not until Monday. Iâll have to owe you.â
âSorry pal,â Eddie leans back, palms against the flat of the picnic tabletop. He blows the smoke from his cigarette up towards the sky. âI donât do I.O.Uâs.â
The air shifts between them. Eddie can feel it. The blue-eyed zombie stare darkens, and Billy takes another step forward until his hip nearly knocks up against one of Eddieâs bent legs. âWhat? You donât think Iâm good for it, pal?â
âI donât know you, man,â Eddie mutters around his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. He always hates this part of the job. Heâs been a punching bag on and off for most of his life, but that doesnât mean heâs gotta like it.
âYou just went on and on about how you did.â Billy spits, and Eddie flinches as it hits his cheek. He doesnât dare raise a hand to swipe it off though, lest it be interpreted as a move to strike.
âLook, I can hold it for you until Monday, but thatâs the best I can do.â Eddie offers, but itâs not enough. He knows itâs not even close to enough. Guys like Hargrove arenât used to being told no.
âCâmon man, thereâs gotta be some deal you can cut me. I just wanna have a good fucking night. You can understand that, canât you, Munson?â Billy asks, his voice going soft. Smooth. Breathy.
And even though his insides are fucking liquifying in real time as he does it, Eddie shakes his head, his long hair curtaining his face as he does. âCanât do it, man.â
âWell, maybe Iâll just beat the shit out of you and take your shit anyway, huh? How about that?â Billy asks, his bottom lip caught between especially sharp-looking teeth. Eddie looks up, his dark eyes lock onto Billyâs salt-water blue ones. Stormy fucking seas. Eddie sure as hell doesnât want to get beat up tonight, but if he starts cutting deals and giving special treatment to everyone who threatens him heâd be intimidated right out of business. And he needs the cash. Canât leave all the bills to Uncle Wayne.
Before Eddie can think up a clever answer, Billyâs got his head thrown back, and heâs cackling. âShit, Iâm fucking with you, dude. Put that face away. I swear, no one in this fucking town can take a goddamn joke.â
Eddie doesnât bother defending himself, just takes his cigarette from his mouth, knocks off the ash and gives a shaky exhale before putting it back between his lips. He barely starts in on his next inhale when the damn thing is plucked out of his mouth.
Lightening fast. Eddie hadnât even seen his handsâbut there was his cigarette, half-smoked, between Billyâs lips. Eddie feels his face heat at the idea of Billyâs mouth being where his own was, just a second before.
âHa ha,â Eddie mutters, his eyes narrowing. Heâs feeling somewhat brave, despite feeling distinctly like a mouse thatâs being battered by a cat's paw. âVery cute.â
Billy tips his head, accepting the comment as if it were a compliment. He doesnât give Eddie his dart back thoughâthe guy just keeps smoking it with a swarmy fucking grin on his tanned, well-proportioned face.
Because the truth is that Billy is easy on the eyes. Nice to look at. Itâs entirely counteracted by the fact that the longer you look at that aforementioned face the higher your chances are of getting a knuckle sandwich sent hurtling your way⊠but Eddieâs still got functioning eyeballs. He can see that Billyâs⊠well. Beautiful.
In a weird way, though. Like how Eddie pictures the elves from Middle Earth might look.
Fucking ethereal and shit.
âIâll cut you a deal, Munson,â Billy says, blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the cherry of that stolen cigarette. âIâll let you have something. Yâknow, as payment.â
But pretty as Billy is, Eddieâs no sucker. âI donât do trades either.â
âYouâre gonna wanna hear this trade.â Billy exhales a cloud of white between them.
Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. âSpit it out then.â He sighs.
But Billy doesnât âspit it outâ. Instead, he shifts weight from foot to foot, looking suddenly agitated again. Billy sniffs and scratches his nose with the nail of his thumb. Like heâs tweaking. Eddie waits him out. Curiosity officially piqued.
Finally, after doing his little dance, Billy leans forward, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. âIâll let you suck my dick.â
And that.
Well.
Eddie wasnât exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasnât that.
The shock is written all over Eddieâs face, heâs sure. Heâs never been good at concealing his emotionsâan open book, his mom called him. Shit liar, is what his dad called him. Either way, he knows the surprise of what Billyâs offered up plays across his face by the way Billyâs eyes dance around it, looking pleased.
âWhat?â Eddie squeaks out, face suddenly on fire.
âYou heard me,â Billy snaps, âI ainât sayinâ it again.â
Eddie blinks, looks away from Billy Hargroveâs icey freeze-pop eyes. Itâs no easy task. âYouâll let meâŠ?â
Eddie motions towards the crotch of Billyâs exceptionally tight jeans. Jeans that leave very little to the imagination, Eddie might add.
Billy grins, his pink tongue caught between his teeth as he leans back, jutting his hips out a little.
âIâll let you,â he confirms. Standing there like heâs Godâs fucking gift.
Though heâs got very little air left in his lungs, Eddie gives a weak scoff. âShouldnât this be the other way around?â
And for the first time tonight, Eddie does feel at risk of being sucker punched. Billyâs eyes flare, and just like that his beauty melts into something ugly. Like a spell is cast over himâbeauty to beast. âIâm no cock-sucker.â He spits out.
In a show of surrender, Eddie raises his hands. âI didnât say you were. I justâusually when someone is offering sexual favors itâs⊠Yâknow what? Whatever. Doesnât matter. Iâm notâI donât trade in pleasures of the flesh, âkay? Thatâs not what Iâm doing here, Hargrove. Itâs cash only.â
But Billyâs either got a hearing problem or a comprehension problem because he rolls his eyes and just keeps on bartering. âFine, Iâll give you a handjob. After my blow job.â
Now. Eddie isnât a prude. In fact, heâs probably something of a pervert if his porno of choice is any indication of that, but thisâwith Billy?
Eddieâs spent this entire interaction scared fucking stiff, and now Billyâs offering to go and get him into an even more vulnerable positionâwith Eddieâs pants literally around his ankles?
âNo.â Eddie aggressively shakes his head, sending his curls in motion. No no no. Fuck no. As hot as Billy isâno. The decision is final. Take it or leave it, Eddie thinks stubbornly. Heels successfully dug in.
Billy sighs through his nose, takes a step back and chuckles dryly to himself. âI know youâre a queer, Munson. Donâtâ!â Billy snaps, pointing a finger in Eddieâs face when he dares open his mouth to deny it, âdonât fucking lie to me.
Eddie swallows, promptly shutting the fuck up.
Is he really that obvious�
Billy continues, âI know youâre a queer. I saw the way you used to look at Harrington, back when we were all in school together. Gym class,â Billy leans forward, back in Eddieâs space, their shared cigarette bouncing between them as he speaks, âthe showers. Remember?â
Itâs been a year since Hargrove and Harrington both leap-frogged him out of Hawkins High, diplomas in tow. A full year, but apparently Billyâs got a fucking photographic memory. Eddie feels his t-shirt stick to his back, slick with sweat. âWhatever, man. Itâs not a crime to look.â
âIt is in this shit hole of a town,â Billy chuckles, dark and humourless, âso you get it now? I know you like dick. And I like pot. So, letâs work something out, here, Munson.â
Billy claps his hands together between them, loud and jarring. âTimeâs aâwastinâ, amigo!â
Jesus this guyâŠ
âEven if I did like dick,â Eddie tilts his head and scrunches his nose, âit doesnât mean I want your dick, Hargrove.â
âA dickâs a dick, man. And trust me, I got a nice, big fat one for you to choke on, trust me, youâll love it,â Billy laughs as he speaks, watching in amusement as Eddie rubs a hand over his heated, blotchy face. âCâmon, youâve sucked cock before, right?â
The simple answer is yeah, a couple of times. Every time it ended pretty much the same though. With him being shoved off after theyâd finished. Being told they werenât gay, that if Eddie were to ever tell anyone about the encounter they would deny it, call Eddie a liar, or worse, beat the shit out of him.
Heâs not a dummy; Eddie knows being queer in Hawkins is a risk, so it made sense to want to keep it hush-hush. Eddieâs the rumoured gay kid, so if youâre gonna experiment with someone, why not let it be with him? But after a handful of times being treated like trashâsomething people needed to wash their hands in Javex from after simply touching himâhe stopped. It didnât feel good.
âYou donât gotta answer. I already know you have.â Billy mutters, smug. âMouth like that.â
Thereâs no way Billy knows, but Eddie ducks his head, tired of how this entire fucking conversation has him feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Tired of how the darker the sky gets, the brighter Billyâs eyes seem to turn.
And what the fuckâs wrong with Eddieâs mouth..?
âCash only,â Eddie repeats. Monotone. Suddenly overstimulated as fuck.
Billy finally pulls the last bit that he can from the cigarette, down to the butt, before he flicks the remains of it into the grass. He gives one final, frustrated exhale of smoke. âFine. Jesus, Munson, you drive one hell of a bargain. But Iâll sweeten the deal for you, alright?â
âJesus, Hargrove, are your ears not working? Or did you get hit one too many times with the basketball during your jock days? I said Iâm not interested. In your cock or your hand or whatever else you try and offer up.â Eddie exclaims, voice going high with strain.
But itâs like the more worked up Eddie gets, the more Billy wags his fucking tail. Heâs all lit up, shiny white teeth built for puncturing. He gets back to crowding EddieâEddie, whoâs one hairâs breadth away from raising his hands and shoving this smug asshole away from him, not caring if he gets his ass kicked as a consequence, but then Billyâs talking again. And Eddie⊠Eddieâs listening.
âWe could kiss a little,â Billy drawls out, angling his mouth towards Eddieâs ear. He lets his voice drop to a low rumble, his words vibrating in that wide chest of his. It sends a chill down Eddieâs spine. âYâknow, make out. You got a van, right? Nice and private. Youâd like that.â
Eddie turns his head towards Billy, so close theyâre nearly touching each other. His mouth hangs open, slack, but Eddie canât get a fucking word out. His whole fucking life, all heâs ever heard is âJesus, does this kid have an off switch?â âEddie, give mommyâs ears a break, please,â âEddie is very disruptive in class with his constant chattingâ. And now he canât make a single goddamn sound!
Billy, on the other hand, seems entirely pleased at rendering the great motor-mouth-Munson to a mute. âIâm a good kisser, too.â He adds, eyes dropping down to Eddieâs mouth. Like heâs gonna do it right here and now. Eddieâs throat clicks when he swallows.
The embarrassing part is that, wellâExcept his Mom and his Meemaw and his weird cousin that one time, heâs never⊠yâknow. Been kissed.
Sucked cock? Sure, yeah. That ship has sailed. Sayo-fuckinâ-nara.
But kissing? On the mouth? Romantically? It hasnât happened for Eddie yet. Not that any of what Billyâs propositioning here is in any way romantic, of course, butâŠ
Eddie watches as Billy darts a pink tongue out between his lips, wetting them so that they glisten. Jesus Christ. How can he say no to that? Rules or no, Eddieâs only fucking human. Does he not bleed if heâs cut? Does he not get hard if heâs presented with an absolute fucking smoke show like Billy Hargrove offering to make out with him? All for the low low price of his dignity and a couple of ounces?
âYou⊠actually want to?â Eddie frowns, counter to the nervous smile thatâs pulling at the corners of his mouth.
Billy clicks his tongue and shrugs a shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon for like, the hundredth time. âWhat I want is for you to cut me a deal. Thatâs enough, ainât it?â
No, is Eddieâs knee-jerk answer. Itâs not enough. Not even close. But, maybe the first kiss fantasy heâs got built up in his head wasnât ever gonna happen. Especially not for someone like Eddie. Heâs probably lucky. Billyâs hot. Willing. And Eddieâs⊠well, thereâs not exactly anyone lining up at Eddieâs front door for the pleasure of his company, letâs just say that.
He feels himself nodding before his brain has even had a chance to catch up. âYeah. Fine. Okay.â
âYeah?â Billy grins, canines flashing, âGuess I shouldâve started with the chick stuff first, huh?â
Chick stuff? Eddie makes a face. Suddenly emboldened, he shoves a hand against Billyâs shoulder, which just makes him laugh harder. âDonât be a shithead, Hargrove, or dealâs off. Got it? Iâll walk, I swear to Christ!â
Billy doesnât agree nor does he disagree, he just leers after Eddie like a fucking bonafied weirdo. And as someone whoâs all but cornered the market on being a bonafide weirdo, thatâs saying something. He hops off the picnic table, scooping up his lunch box of goodies as he does, not daring to turn his back on Hargrove. âIâm parked just through here.â
Eddie starts towards his van, stealing glances over at Billy as he trudges on after him, only a step behind. Just enough to make Eddie nervous. âDonât you have like, a job?â
âTwo of âem, actually.â Billy answers, hands stuffed into his pockets. âWhy?â
âHow do you not have any cash on you?â Eddie asks, blunt as always.
Billy stiffens, just a little. âThatâs none of your business, Munson.â
Eddie raises his hands in yet another mock surrender, âsure, whatever. Remain a man of mystery, I donât care.â
Just seems stupid, is all. Billy must be fucking terrible with money. Probably spends it all on his obnoxiously loud car. Eddie doesnât voice any of his many theories though. Billyâs covered in live wires, and Eddieâs not overly eager to start touching and testing âem.
The woods arenât especially dense, but itâs new growthâthe old forest chopped down a few decades back and left to grow back all weedy and skinny. Thereâs lots of branches to duck under along with dirt holes to roll your ankles in. Eddie knows his pathway like the back of his hand by this point, but Billy; not so much. Thereâs a bundle of eye level branches that always used to smack Eddie in the face when he was focused on his footing, so he makes sure to turn and holds the offending branches back for Billy so he doesnât totally eat it.
Thinking back, maybe itâs a weird thing to do for another guy, but Eddieâs radar for whatâs weird and what isnât has been busted since he first got cut out of his mom. Always difficult, even back then.
So yeah, Eddie doesnât get a thank you, or whateverâinstead Billy just eyes him with an air of suspicion as he ducks under Eddieâs arm. Like heâs waiting for Eddie to let the branches go or something. Who knows.
Either way, itâs the last great hurdle before theyâre back at Eddieâs van, which is right where he left her; parked in the middle of the small gravel lot behind the watershed. Nobody came back here, especially not at night.
His hands shake when he takes out his keys, feeling Billyâs eyes on him. Briefly wonders what kind of mess was waiting for them in the back, but whatever. Itâs not like Billyâs expecting The Ritz.
He gets the doors unlocked, and because heâs a gentleman, he holds the door open for his hook-up.
Despite his nerves rattling around under his skin, Eddie gives a little flourish for good measure, holding out an arm for Billy to take. âAfter you, mâlord.â
Billy scoffs, blue eyes rolling back in his head. And as dim as the light is, Eddie swears he can see two pink spots form on the apples of Billyâs cheeks. He counts it for a win.
âYouâre so fuckinâ weird.â Billy mutters as he crawls into the back of Eddieâs van, pointedly ignoring Eddieâs offered arm, the whole thing shifting with the heft of him.
âWow, yâknow what, Hargrove, I had never heard that one before.â Eddie says, hot on Billyâs heels. He swings the door shut behind him.
The back of Eddieâs van is pretty spartan, but only because heâd just finished using it to lug a shit ton of gear to and from a Corroded Coffin gig. Whatâs left behind is a couple of ratty blankets, some old sweaters, a scattering of sheet music and some candy bar wrappers. It could be neater, but overall itâs not terrible.
Billy sits with his back to one side of the van, his legs spread, knees bent. He sits like a man. One used to taking up room and not apologizing for it. Eddie backs himself up against the opposite wall of the vanâs interior, knees bent to his chest, legs crossing at his ankles. Thereâs not much light back here, but Eddieâs eyes adjust quickly to spot Billyâs agitated-looking face.
âWell?â Mr. California barks, one of his legs begins bouncing restlessly. It shakes the whole van.
Eddie swallows, âwell?â
âWhereâs the weed?â Billy asks.
Oh.
Right. Wake up, Munson.
Eddie scrambles to get his feet back under him before he squeezes his upper half into the front of the van, reaching into the glove box to grab a baggie.
âHere yâgo.â Eddie winces as he pulls himself back through. He sits on bent legs, closer to Billy now. He bestows upon him the sacred sandwich baggy of goods. âPremium blueberry kush, 100% indica. So itâll mellow you right out. Not that you need to chill out, of course, but, yâknow. It should, in theory, help with that scary vein you get in your forehead sometimes.â
Billy glares at Eddie as he swipes the bag out of his hands, the scary vein threatening to make an appearance right there and now. He turns that glare toward the bundles of dried herbs.
âYou got a bong or a pipe or somethinâ?â Billy mumbles.
âDuh,â Eddie scoffs, breathing entirely too hard, âWhy?â
âWhatâdâya mean, âwhy?â To smoke this shit with.â Billy gives the baggy a few vicious shakes in front of Eddieâs face.
Eddie feels his eyes cross as he follows the weed. âRight now?â
âUnless you feel like rollinâ it.â Billy shrugs, sounding like his already thin patience is beginning to wear even thinner.
âNoâuh, I just thought youâd wanna smoke at home or whatever.â Not with Eddie.
A crease forms between Billyâs eyebrows as he frowns. âWhat, you donât wanna smoke with me, Munson?â
Eddie snorts, shakes his head, âhey, Iâll smoke with anyoneââ
âThen shut the fuck up and get the bong already!â Billy shouts, fuse burnt down to the quick.
And if thereâs one thing about Eddie, is he responds well to yelling. Or, not well, per se, but shouting always seems to snap him out of whatever fog heâs in. It works on him. So, yeah, he responds. Jumps to attention. His mom used to have to snap her fingers in front of his face to âbring him backâ, she said. No one else seems to bother with that sort of gentle touch with Eddie though, except Uncle Wayne, but he usually just gives Eddieâs hair a tussle instead of a snap.
So back to the front he goes, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting the old girl up while heâs there so that theyâve got some music to fill the silence. And if memory serves him correctly, Billyâs got pretty decent taste, music-wise.
When he sits back down, bong in hand.
âTa-da!â Eddie sings, holding the contraption up by the neck to Billy in victory, careful not to tip it over. Billy looks entirely unimpressed as he grabs it out of Eddieâs hand and slots it between his thighs.
Lucky bong.
Billy starts grinding up some pieces between his fingers and packing the bowl with a familiarity that Eddie can respect.
Technically, itâs still Eddieâs weed that Billyâs prepping, since he hasnât exactly gotten payment for the pot yet, but⊠maybe Billy needs the vapour courage before he can face the idea of kissing another dude. Of kissing Eddie.
Eddie watches from behind the hair heâd let fall in his face as Billy lights the bowl, inhales, and takes a hit. Itâs sort of pretty, the way he slowly exhales the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Away from Eddie.
Then the bong is being pressed into his hands. Eddieâs turn.
He takes a rip, then another one once Billyâs taken another hit of his own, and thatâs all it takes for the both of âem to get laid out on their asses. They end up flat on their backs, the round part of their shoulders touching, both staring up at the ceiling of the van, with rolled-up sweaters and blankets under their heads in the way of makeshift pillows. Theyâre the kind of high where time feels like itâs barely moving. Something made up. A concept. Like thereâs a very real possibility that Eddie and Billy have been lying here for an eternity, and then some.
And Eddie still hasnât gotten any kisses from Billy.
But he also hasnât gotten any punches by Billy either, so thereâs thatâŠ
âYou ever seen the ocean, Munson?â Billy murmurs in a voice thatâs gone a little rough thanks to all the smoke still floating around the van. Now successfully hot-boxed. Drawing out their high.
Eddieâs arms feel heavy. âNo.â
Billy turns his neck to look at Eddie like heâs re-evaluating his idea of him paired with this new, disappointing information. Eddie turns his head away from Billy, just a little, feeling weirdly embarrassed. âNever even left the state.â
Small town, trailer trash⊠thatâs probably what Billy thinks of him. Billy, whoâs been everywhere. Especially compared to Eddie. He expects to get laughed at, but Billy keeps surprising Eddie. He just looks⊠bummed out.
âYouâd probably hate it,â Billy states, sure of himself, eyes dancing across Eddieâs face. âYouâd burn right fuckinâ quick. Get sand all up in your shorts. Dâyou even know how to swim?â
âA little.â Eddie means to say defensively, but it comes out as little more than a sigh.
âNot in waves, though, I bet. Youâd end up swallowing your weight in seawater before I hauled your ass out,â Billyâs smiling at the strange little fantasy where Eddieâs tormented by the elements. Eddieâs giggling along too, though heâs entirely unsure as to why.
âA crab might even,â lighting fast, Billy reaches over to punch the barely-there roll on Eddieâs stomach, âgetâchya.â
Eddie yelpsâor maybe he squeals. He canât be sure. Either way, whatever sound he lets out isnât in any way charming or cute. Which; no surprise there. Instinctually, his handâs gone and encircled itself around Billyâs wrist, but heâs too fucking blitzed out to do more than just squeeze it, trying to appear threatening. Sort of tough when you canât stop fucking giggling. âStop, stopâIâm gonna piss myself, dude.â
Billyâs got his tongue caught between his teeth, laughing along, low and rough in his throat, but to his credit (and probably a desire not to be covered in piss) he releases his hold on Eddieâs stomach.
They settle back on their backs, one Metallica track leading into another. Itâs the only way Eddie can be sure the clocks havenât all stopped entirely. Proof the passage of time is still in working order. He exhales in relief, staring at Billyâs profile.
For someone so fucking scary, heâs got deceptively cute features. An honest-to-Christ button nose, along with some ridiculously long eyelashes. Golden ringlets fall around his face. Freckles too, all over his cheeks. Even a Cupidâs bow. When Billy fell from heaven, he didnât hit like, a single ugly branch on his way down.
Eddie blinks before his brain catches up with what heâs looking at; Billy, staring back at him. When did Billy turn his head? How long have their eyes been locked? A second? A year? Timeâs fucking with him so hard, JesusâŠ
âMânot really an outdoorsy kinda guy.â Eddie admits, unable to keep from smiling.
Because of the weed.
Billy gives a lazy snort as if what Eddie had just said was the understatement of the year. âThatâs weird, because you kinda look like a bug.â
It shouldnât make him laugh as hard as it does, but Eddie feels the rumble of it in his chest, and he canât help but let out a series of very unflattering sounding laughs. Billyâs not laughing along, but he seems entirely entertained by Eddieâs fucking display.
When he finally catches his breath, Eddie indignantly squeaks out, âHow do I look like a bug?â
âBecause,â Billy flicks his chin towards Eddieâs face, teasing half-smile still firmly in place, âyou got them big buggy eyes.â
Eddie blows a low-energy strawberry, rolling his eyes before they land back on Billy. Canât seem to take his eyes off of him for long. âIâll have you know that my âbig buggy eyesâ are my best feature.â
Billy narrows his eyes, clearly amused. âYou think so?â
âI know so. Itâs what everyone tells me.â Eddie widens his eyes to drive the point home.
Everyone being his mom when she was still alive, and⊠well, just his mom. But she was a real smart lady. And like, super pretty. A total knock-out. She knew about this sort of thing. He remembers how she used to go on and on about his big brown puppy-dog eyes, about how theyâd break hearts one day. And no one, especially not Billy Hargrove, can take that away from him. Even if it is something all moms say to their funny-looking kids.
âWell, everyoneâs lying to you,â Billy says, in that casually cruel way of his.
Eddie drops his jaw in an exaggerated show of the offense. âIs that so?â
âYep,â Billy confirms, smug. A true blue asshole; through and through. âYour best featureâs your lips, no question.â
And. Well, no oneâs ever said anything about his lips before. Not his mom, not his hook-upsâno one.
Theyâre just⊠lips. Not especially big or small. Kind of right in the middle. Theyâre even kinda chapped right now.
âGee, thanks.â He murmurs, from lips that Billy Hargrove apparently approves of. Maybe even likes. His fingers twitch at his sides, palms growing sweaty.
Billy just looks away, like Eddieâs caught him doing something wrong. Caught him being nice. Guess it probably hurts the olâ bad boy image to compliment other boyâs lips. Eddie resists the urge to raise one of his hands and feel along the ridges of his mouth, to map âem out. Try and figure out what Billy likes about them enough to say it out loud. Heâs buzzing with the compliment.
âSo, you still want⊠yâknow, payment or whatever?â Billy asks, keeping his words to little more than a low murmur between them.
The song playing through the speakers stopsâa brief pause before it leads into the next one. Itâs deathly quiet in those tense few seconds.
Eddie doesnât answer Billy right away. He canât. So instead, he just⊠lets the questions hang between them. Because the thing is, God help him, he does. And yeah, maybe he didnât plan on his first kiss being with big bad Billy Hargroveâmaybe instead of golden curls and freckles Eddie had envisioned dark, fluffy hair and a splattering of moles. Big brown bedroom eyes instead of sharp, icy blue ones. Either way, heâs way out of his depth. Out of his league. In fact, Eddie should be on his hands and knees thanking Billy for even considering sucking face with a guy like him. He should be psyched. And he is!
Fuck, this weed is making it hard to keep his thoughts linear. He stares back at Billy, realizing suddenly that heâs been waiting for an answer to his question.
âNothing is ever free, Hargrove,â Eddie answers, cryptic, even to his own ears, âyou should know that.â
Because itâs the truth, isnât it? Nobody just does shit out of the goodness of their hearts. Everyone expects something in return. Everyoneâs gotta pay the piper. And if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. So yeah, Eddie gives what he can, but he also takes what he can get. Same as Billy, Eddie suspects.
Billyâs got a real perplexed sort of look on his face. Golden and tan, even in the cold, sterile light of night. His eyes momentarily dart to Eddieâs lips, just for a split second. But split second or no, Eddieâd caught it. The tiny motion sends his beat-up little dime-store heart all aâflutter. Billy likes these lips.
âClose your eyes,â Billy tells him, voice cigarette rough.
Eddie does it, trying to keep his breathing even. Shallow, so he doesnât puff hot air in Billyâs face when he approaches. His hands lay limply by his sides, with his hair splayed around his like some expanding ink blot on the floor of his van.
He has the sudden and quite frankly embarrassing image of Snow White lying dead in her glass coffin, pale-skinned and raven-haired, waiting for a kiss of her own.
Itâs so stupid that he ends up snorting.
âWhat? You think this is funny, Munson?â Billy growls, voice sounding like itâs still to the right of him, but that heâs propped up on an elbow or something.
Eddie shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. A smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth, totally beyond his control. âNo, no, itâs stupid. I. Justâfuck. Sorry. Forget I did that.â
âIf you think this is stupid, then I can go. I donât need this shitââ
âNo! Stopââ Eddie reaches out and grabs the front of Billyâs shirt, his eyes popping open in panic. âYouâre not stupidâIâm⊠shit, youâre gonna laugh.â
âJust tell me, shithead.â Billy snaps, face getting more and more red as his temper rises.
âFine. Jesus.â Eddie squirms under the intensity of Billyâs gaze. All hard edges and intimidation now. Eddieâs only had the Billy that tickles him and tells him nice things about his lips for a fucking millisecond, but he already misses him.
âIâve never kissed anyone before, alright?â He blurts out, quick like a bandaid.
And with that, Billyâs eyes go a little funny. The icey shards in his eyes melt back to tumultuous waters. âSeriously?â
âNo, dude, Iâm lying about being a total loser with no game.â Eddie snorts, emboldened by his buzzing high.
Billy frowns, âArenât you like, two years older than me?â
âLook, I had opportunities, okay? But mostly⊠It was, yâknow. With girls. Pretty ones, too!â his brows shoot up, attempting to emphasize the point, âbut I just⊠I never wanted to.â
Billyâs stone-still while he listens. Looking like heâs hanging off every word that Eddieâs stumbling over.
âSo, you canât even fake it?â He asks.
Eddie blinks, suddenly lost. âFake what?â
âLiking chicks.â He answers quickly.
âNah,â Eddie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, âIâm a shitty liar.â
âPoor bastard.â Billy mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he clicks his tongue, âThatâs a real tough break, amigo.â
Eddieâs shoulders twitch. âI get by.â
A corner of Billyâs mouth turns down and he tilts his head like heâs allowing Eddie some small, indiscernible mercy.
âI just feel bad,â Billy says, low and smooth, âyou starting at the very top like this. Everyone else after me is gonna feel like a major fuckinâ letdown.â
Eddie snorts, looking up at Billy, whoâs got himself propped up on an elbow and is sort of hovering above him. âBig talk, Hargrove.â
Canines flash. âWell I got a big game, Munson.â
âYouâre a real cocky bââ Eddieâs words are smushed back into his mouth when Billy suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Eddieâs.
Billyâs got a hand against Eddieâs neck, the pad of his thumb against the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up just so. Eddie can hear his heart thundering in his chest, white noise overtaking For Whom the Bell Tolls.
His first kiss.
Itâs warm and soft. Drier than he expected it would be. The stubble of Billyâs moustache scrapes against his upper lip, sending shockwaves up and down Eddieâs spine. Billy smells like cologne. Or maybe thatâs aftershaveâhe canât tell. Eddie fills his lungs with it, breathing deeply through his nose.
The thumb resting against Eddieâs jaw begins stroking along his cheek. Delicately. Like Eddieâs something fragile. Precious, even. Heâs gone all tingly everywhere Billy touches himâlike magic.
Itâs about this time that Billy parts his lips, sliding a tongue along the seam of Eddieâs mouth, gentle proddingâlike heâs looking for a weak point. Somewhere to gain entry.
Or maybe he just wanted to taste Eddieâs lips.
Hey, canât a guy dream?
Billy shifts his weight, further encroaching into Eddieâs personal space, his broad shoulders caging over top of Eddieâs narrower ones. Then Billy raises a leg and swings it over before letting his hips drop over top of Eddieâs own. Itâs like touching a fucking live wire. He canât help the way he reflexively gasps and bucks up into the solid bulk above him. And sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph⊠heâs rock fucking hard in his jeans. When did that happen?
Flood gates open. Billyâclearly emboldened by the discovery of what heâs doing to Eddieâs bodyâdeepens their kiss by sticking his tongue down Eddieâs throat. The sensation is weird as hellâEddieâs only ever had his own tongue in his mouth, but there Billyâs is, swirling around, dipping in and out as the sound of their smacking lips fills the van, harmonizing with Hammettâs insane, face-melting guitar solo.
There are teeth involved now too; Billyâs biting Eddieâs lower lip and pulling, stopping right before it gets painful. It brings sounds out of Eddie that heâd never heard himself make before. Didnât even know that he could make. All breathy and moany. Maybe he should be embarrassed about how loud heâs progressively getting, but itâs hard to think straight when Billyâs slowly grinding his hips down against his. And Billyâsâfuck, Billyâs hard too. Thatâs gotta be what that is, right? Jesus H. ChristâŠ
Their hips move in tandem now, the same way their tongues seem to. Itâs like Eddieâs body just knows what to do. Itâs fucking incredible. Heâs never been naturally good at anything in his life. Nothing comes easily to Eddie Munson. Every talent heâs got has been hard-fought, earned through blood, sweat and tears.
But this⊠Eddie might actually be kinda good at this.
Or maybe Billyâs just a really good teacher.
Heâs a cocky asshole, but Eddie fears he might have been serious about everyone else being a letdown after him. Because how the hell is anyone else going to compare to this? To Billy Hargrove. Mr. California King. Eddie could swear heâs glowing right nowâlike Billyâs spent so much time laid out in the sunlight that a couple of rays got trapped just underneath his skin. Dude canât help but shine.
Yeah, heâll be a tough act to follow.
But thatâs another Eddieâs problem. Future Eddie. Meanwhile, the here and now Eddie, is getting kissed. Heâs got Billyâs big arms wrapped around him, like Eddieâs somehow worth something to someone like him.
Down south, thereâs just the right amount of pressure on his denim-trapped dick. He can feel the line of Billyâs own cock bump against his own when he pushes hard enough. He could fucking weep. Itâs almost too muchâtoo good. Too perfect. Whatâs he gonna do with himself now that he knows he could be doing this? God, howâs he ever gonna jerk off when thisâwhen Billy⊠oh fuck-!
His orgasm hits him like a goddamn freight train. The switch on his brain had gone off and it didnât even have the courtesy of letting him know!
Eddieâs jaw drops open, mid-kiss, and he pantsâmoansâinto Billyâs mouth. His hips go stiff, stuck in its lifted position, trying to drive upwards into Billy as hard as he can. He can feel himself shake all over as the waves crash over him, one after the other in quick succession, nearly whiting out his vision. He shuts his eyes as he finally comes down on the other side of it, releasing a choked-sounding exhale.
He goes limp. Boneless. Buzzing and tingling and vibrating all over. Waits for the feeling of mortification to overtake him. It should be here in 3⊠2âŠ
âDid you justâŠ?â Billy asks, lifting his own hips to examine the scene of the crime. Eddie imagines the wet spot steadily growing on the front of his jeans, a little off to the left, is pretty hard to miss.
âHoly shit, you did,â Billy chuckles, slightly awed sounding, âyou just creamed your fuckinâ pants.â
Eddie whimpers. The sharp contrast of absolute bone-deep humiliation paired with the fluttery, intensely content feeling he's still got working its way through his nervous system is enough to make his head spin.
âSorry.â Eddie blinks his eyes open.
Eddie didnât think it was possible for Billy to look any more smug than he did before, but somehow, heâs achieving the impossible.
âDonât be,â Billy insists, a chuckle still at the edge of his words. He grunts a little as he rolls off of Eddie and drops down onto his back. Taking up his previous position of laying shoulder to shoulder next to each other. âI take it as a compliment.â
Itâs kinda sweet of him. Because what happened was embarrassing. No two ways about it. Shooting off like that, like Eddieâs some horn dog who canât control himself?
But, well, if the boot fitsâŠ
Billy reaches down and roughly adjusts himself before sitting up. Gentle touches all used up for Eddie, apparently. Then he lifts his ass just enough that he can slide a hand behind him to retrieve a crumpled-looking box of Marlboro reds. Shakily, Eddie sits up too, engaging muscles that still feel jello-like.
Billy knocks out a cigarette and puts it between his lips. Then he knocks out a second one, and without asking, puts it in Eddieâs mouth. Billy leans forward, and Eddie mirrors himâstill just trying to keep upâmoving until the ends of their cigarettes line up. Billy ignites his lighter, temporarily blinding them both, but he holds it in front of them, and they inhale in tandem.
Smoke fills Eddieâs lungs. The familiar, soothing burn in his throat makes him feel a little more solid. Present. It makes what just happened all the more bewildering.
They smoke in silence.
Well, except for the music from his cassette still humming from the speakers. Billy mumbles something about loving a certain drum solo, but other than that, itâs crickets. It goes on like this until their cigarettes are half their original size and Eddie finally grows a pair.
âWhat about you?â He murmurs around his dart.
Billy exhales a stream of smoke out of his nose, looking like a sick ass dragon before he answers, âWhat about me?â
Eddie flicks his chin towards Billyâs general direction. âYou wanna get off too?â
Billy just snorts and shakes his head, like Eddie had said something prosperous. âNah.â
A pit forms in the center of Eddieâs gut. Souring any of the leftover post-nut happy chemicals that were still rolling around his noggin. That sting of rejection. The knowledge that Billy doesnât actually want someone like Eddie touching him. Like Billyâs itching to go take a shower and wash all the Eddie-cooties off of him, before heading back to his actual life. Like being with Eddie is something embarrassing. Itâs a sinking fucking feeling, one he knows no post-high buzz or cigarette is going to touch. Sometimes Eddie forgets that heâs just a detour. Never anyoneâs destination point.
âMaybe next time.â Billy mumbles, so low that Eddie almost misses it entirely. He finishes his cigarette before stuffing the butt of it into one of the many makeshift ashtrays Eddieâs got kicking around back here. Then he starts making his way to the back doors, slipping out into the Indiana night.
Next time.
The words echo in Eddieâs head. Bounce off the walls, does couple of cartwheels, spins. The letters get all scrambled up before heâs able to make sense of them.
Next time.
âPleasure doing business with you, California.â Eddie hollers out a split second before Billy can close the door.
A half-smile forms on that Cupidâs bow-tipped mouth. Pretty as a picture. How did Eddie never notice before? And howâs he supposed to think about anything else?
âSee you around, Eddie.â He purrs, knows exactly what heâs doing, Eddieâs sure of itâthen slams the door shut between them. Heâs engulfed in darkness again. His eyes are back to their unadjusted state, while specks of nothing flit across his blackened vision. He gnaws on his bottom lip to keep the laugh thatâs threatening to bubble up from his chest at bay.
Next time.
â
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@stervrucht @dame-zoom-a-lot @lawrencebshoggoth @morallyundefined @thepossummoldypasta @wheneverfeasible @sanctumdemunson @chaotic-waffle @bookworm0690 @lifelessstar
#Eddie Munson#billy hargrove#mungrove#babyâs first mungrove#this is my first time writing for this pairing soooooo idk donât bully me ig#stranger things#rare pair#Eddie Munson x billy Hargrove#Billy Hargrove x Eddie Munson#one sided Steddie#Eddie Munson ADHD#Bully Billy hargrove#Mungrove fanfic#Mungrove fic#Stranger things oneshot#Oneshot#drabble#my writing#write Rae write#kiss virgin Eddie Munson#bullied Eddie Munson
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Adding onto this because I have a lot of thoughts about this topic. This might come out as a bit scrambled because Iâm not thinking too hard as I type I just need to get it all out.
First of all, no, defectiveness is not an allegory for autism.
Not only would this be extremely problematic due to the nature of how defectives are treated (executed via electrocution, being seen as highly unstable and dangerous monsters), but youâre also humanising irkens too much. Irkens and humans⊠not the same! Iâm not saying they CANâT be autistic, Iâm just saying that defectiveness and autism are NOT THE SAME THING. This is something that REALLY irks me. (Pun intended). It genuinely makes me very uncomfortable and I know people are going to disagree with me and tell me things like âbut the irken empire is messed up! Thatâs the point!â Okay, well Iâm not finished.
âYouâre a monster, Zim! Everything you touch gets destroyed!â
Defectiveness isnât a problem with the irken itself, with the organic brain. Defectiveness is an issue with the PAK. A lot of issues in Zimâs case. The PAK is broken. It literally says this in The Trial:
âIrken Zimâs ID PAK is damaged, and has led to a corrupt data path. He is⊠a defective.â
His PAK is so broken that it corrupts the Control Brains! Almost like a computer virus, I guess.
Defectives are unpredictable, unstable, and dangerous because their PAKs are damaged. Itâs hard to keep them in line which is why they need to be terminated. Zim is an active threat to the entire empire, which would be impressive if they learned how to utilise him. But they canât. Heâs too unpredictable. He could end up annihilating his own race by accident (which has almost happened before). He could be set off in a way that makes him WANT to destroy the empire. No matter what he does, something gets destroyed. And the empire doesnât want it to be them because they KNOW heâs an actual threat. Heâs proved that multiple times. Itâs safer to just banish him to a planet so far away that itâs practically impossible for them to cross paths again, all while heâs under the impression heâs been sent on a top secret mission. Heâll direct all his destructive energy towards that and not mess up things for the empire anymore. And they need to keep up the illusion so they donât set him off because they canât keep him under control like they can everyone else. THAT is what defectiveness is.
Zim was doomed from the second his broken PAK was attached.
Also, defectives arenât common either. Thatâs why itâs such a big deal when theyâre discovered with this huge existence evaluation. Theyâre a flaw in the empireâs perfect code and need to be scrubbed from existence and everyone needs to pretend it never happened. That such an irken never existed.
âIrken Zim's data is not allowed into the collective. His PAK will be removed, and erased.â
Also, I know I said it in the original post, but no, irkens who show emotion are not defective. Sure, maybe itâs seen as weak to show emotions like sadness, but itâs literally impossible to prevent that. They very clearly show other emotions like anger, happiness, frustration⊠sadness is just another one. Itâs not defective to be sad, itâs just funny.
And no, I donât think Skoodge and Tak are defective. I donât really have a coherent explanation for this. I know itâs a popular headcanon, I just donât see it.
I donât really care if you disagree with me on that, itâs your headcanon. Iâm just saying that I personally donât see it. You do you. What Iâm actually passionate about is everything I said before that.
I donât really know how to tie this all together, but I want to share my thoughts on this topic because I feel like itâs important - ESPECIALLY the first part. Iâll come back to this if I have any more thoughts about it because Iâm very passionate about defectiveness as a concept.
The term âdefectiveâ is thrown around way too loosely in this fandom. Having emotions does not make an irken defective.
#I have so many thoughts about this whole thing that I canât put into words#and if I could I wouldnât be able to string them all together properly anyway#Iâm just very passionate#invader zim#iz#zim#defective#the trial#control brains#invader skoodge#skoodge#invader tak#tak#the almighty tallest#I used a red quote! It counts!#I just want people to see this#analysis#??????#blue moments
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Every time I listen to The Breakdown from WATT I always think sheâs gonna say âdo you wanna settle or do you wanna dieâ and idk why
#it has literally never been said like that before as far as I know???#where did I get this from#watt#we are the tigers
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you seem like the. kind of person who I'd run into during a rock concert while I'm trying to find bathroom and notably you are dressed kind of oddly for the concert (see: divorced dad outfit. hawaiian shirt. jorts. chunky sandles. giant sun hat.) and so I ask you "hello, do you know where I can find the bathroom?" and you go "yeah sure!!" and you point me the complete opposite direction from the bathroom. not on purpose, but because you also have no idea where the bathroom is. I thank you and go on my way, both of us oblivious to the fact we are currently very much not at a rock concert. it's an idie band that just screams really loud. sorry if that's specific you just give me giant 'perpetual tourist that isn't really a tourist and has never left their home city but just seems like a tourist anyways' energy
naw thats a pretty reasonable impression id say
#thank you for this i can very clearly see all of this happening whehghfdg#ive actually never been to a concert of any kind before!! id love to go see cavetown in person cuz hes the only one i actually consistently#listen to. but the dude only has his tours either in europe or the states orz#BUT if you did ask me where you could find a certain type of fish in the aquarium i could almost definitely get it right#only cause ive been to the aquarium enough times to memorize the galleries but forgetful enough to be surprised every single time#âyeah sure!!â is also a SPOT ON RESPONSE. not a âits that wayâ or âhead there and turn leftâ. yeah sure is more on point than u could know#one time i was at the beach ogling these tiny fish and some guy asked me hows the water and i said theres tiny fish here!!#which did not answer his question and was so far off and its happened so many times that i think ive accepted it#ask#answered#yapping#doodles#puppysona#i also know deep in my soul i would dress oddly for a concert because 1) almost all the clothes in my closet are at least 8 years old#and 2) im very picky and wear for comfort rather than something i could actually use for certain outings. like a concert#i literally have a sweater that says baddie in fancy font and i only bought it because its REALLY FUNNY and it was like $12
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this is a test
#iâm bored i just wanna see how many words i can put in the tags like will it just keep going on forever or will they stop me like i know th#the tag limit is 30 ok so the iindividual tag limit is 140 characters thatâs actually so rude i wanted to keep going forever and see how lo#g this could be but i guess we can do this 30 times ok what the flip should i talk about hm i was playing the guitar today but i rage quit#ause the song was hard and hurting my fingers! ermmmmm it was sunny ok this is boring letâs think of more exciting things to type hmmm acco#ding to all known laws of aviation- jk iâm not doing the bee movie script but can you imagine i think that would be funny hmmmmm words i lo#e podcasts so bad thatâs a fact no one has ever know before my blog definitely isnât all about audio dramas the people are definitely not a#ready aware of this jesus christ this is only the seventh one of these this is actually quite a lot of space i underestimated how much i ha#e to type btw thereâs probably spelling mistakes in here somewhere or autocorrect has been annoying but i cba to retype anything so i donât#care lolllllllllllll how do you feel about oscar malevolent i feel a normal amount actually (lie) yk what i really miss sam and colin alrea#y like iâm actually not okay i really hope we hear from sam again in s2 and also colin ngl i hope ur in the computers soz or not dead miss#im like a bastard my paranoid it king ok erm im running out of things to say um heartstopper s3 was crazy good i cried lmao i love gay peop#e so much itâs crazy i hope it gets renewed for s4 i need to reread the comics lowkey and the books theyâre all so talented for being so yo#ng it scares me ngl !!!!!! the tmagp hiatus is getting to me slightly like february in reality is soon and not that far away for how podcas#ts go but seriously how am i supposed to live until then without knowing what happened. please colin be alive. ive only just realised i can#use fills stops. sorry thatâs made everything a bit messy. i shouldâve been doing this before. whoops. anyways. hi mutuals i love you all s#much i hope you enjoy my rambles and shitposts cause i enjoy yours very much! never think youâre being annoying i literally donât care be a#annoying as you want posts as much as you want i am ur biggest fan <3 im getting a bit fatigued from typing like my mind is blank basically#now itâs just turned into a. stream of consciousness but i donât really have any thoughts to put here idk if weâre halfway ermmmm omg itâs#lmost halloween how crazy is that time is flying by i kinda forgot it was october lmao. itâs wild how itâs basically almost christmas. like#what. thatâs illegal. how is it wintertime again. what the flip. i miss summer already take me backkkkkkk. i hope my phone doesnât crash or#smth cause iâve not saved this as a draft and i cba to do any of this again. maybe i should save it. ok i will when i reach the next tag bc#ok it stopped me but iâve saved it and holy jesus itâs a lot of text im just sat here giggling thereâs really no point to any of this other#than me being bored sooooooooooooooooo (imagine if i just did the letter o for every character wouldnât that be crazy) so wait thereâs 140#haracters and 30 tags so whatâs 30 x 140. someone hurry. i havenât done maths lessons in two and a half years iâve forgotten everything wai#let me get the calculator app ok im back it said 4100 characters so. i dont know how many words that roughly is but its. a decent amount. o#what the flip why am i wasting tag space with maths. i hate maths. my screen time has been actually soooooooooo bad recently like damn some#one put my phone in a block of ice please joshua gillespie style. my mind is running out of things to say. do i talk about myself. im james#im 18 which is weird cause wdym im an adult go away. ive run out of facts. i love podcasts and procedural dramas that stupid firefighter sh#w is my life unfortunately. i think chappell roan should be the queen of england instead of king charles. i dont like having a king cause#ho needs men in power not me. ok um this is the last tag equal rights for all. yolo. the time will pass anyways! thank u boredom ok bye gn:
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hrrhhhrrmrm...velmgarb...*indistinguishable gnawing noises*
#fisara's scrawlings#I am. crawling on my hands and knees.#one week. after literal years. o n e w e e k.#god. I am unwell.#all the homework I'm looking down the barrel of for this week and next so I might get to play it when it drops has me so upset#like I know I shouldn't pressure myself and I can always wait til thanksgiving break since we get the whole week#and I doubt it'll finish downloading that night anyway#but! I want to play it on release day! I want it to be a new holiday for me! I want to light one of my candles and and andâ#i'm consoling myself that if I don't have enough time I'll at least indulge in the character creator and get my rook and inky set up#god fenalan and enaste are going to look so good after I'm done with them :')#I've said this before but for all my non-DA followers I apologize. again.#I will never be the same again after this game releases and I am so sorry lol#I plan on going dark during that time to avoid spoilers as well but I'll post about it closer til#I've been fine with all the stuff so far since it's been act one (according to BW) but I just know that people are going to blaze through i#so I'm terrified of seeing anything late game#I almost always end up spoiling myself on things accidentally before I get to experience them and I want this to be different#that's what I have trouble wrapping my head around.#I don't know what's going to happen. this is all entirely new for me. it will never be the first time I play the game again afterwards. god#someone sedate me.#anyways yeah woohoo for trying to slog through homework tomorrow :')#I am. so tired.#the next couple of weeks are going to be the busiest of the semester I fear#weeeeeeee for my cortisol levels#I need to go to the gym so bad#anyways rant over lol ily whoever decided to read all this lol *blows kiss*
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Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:
My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x
The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...
#majek says shit#I have the diamond for a raise animal companion spell but it can only be used if you have a body and even then there are restrictions#and Kela wouldn't even know about it until after the fight because she got trapped between a wall of force and a stone golem?#or a stone Big Humanoid Fucker idk what that technically was but it would've killed me pretty fast#and it all was in an area of supernatural darkness emanating from the powergamer's character...#which interfered with so much of everyone else's actions and we even addressed it before the session that it's a bad idea to cast this#but its ok because HE will be able to see through it and HE won't be targeted easily:))))#he also almost ended the encounter in the first round of proper combat...#by using mechanics so outrageous but technically ambiguous enough that our GM can't deny them by using only RAW...#and he prefers to settle arguments by going as RAW as possible...#and it wasn't a problem until now when we have a player who exploits to an actually unbelievable extent#we shared our character sheets online yesterday and I finally saw his... still have no idea how the character works#because like half the stuff is custom and missing from the app#he has 9 AC in the app and allegedly 32 AC before buffs...#and the GM says the math checks out but 1. nobody saw that math besides him and 2. so far he trusted that player without too much questions#and only recently he actually realised he's been manipulated multiple times when me and some others started dismantling that players actions#I so hope this was the last session with that person#the worst thing is I think he's an ok guy when I'm not playing any kind of game with him#and I understand different people find enjoyment in different aspects of games - his being figuring out how far he can go with the rules#and there are whole groups of people who like to play like that and enjoy the challenge of making the most broken âbuildâ possible#but the rest of the group are not that kind of people. maybe some like to have fun with researching what's possible#but it's never the purpose of the game and these things dont find their way into the actual game#I'm actually considering the possibility of just leaving the campaign if he stays there... I know I whine a lot in the tags#about different players that get on my nerves for various reasons. it sounds like I'm never happy about anything#but our group is big and we play together as a friend group in 4 different campaigns now (I'm in 3 of them)#and every one of these smaller groups has it's issues. sometimes it's the characters not matching and sometimes different expectations#or interpersonal stuff that can be worked out. this here is not a group composition issue because the powergaming attitude is everywhere#it's impossible to talk casually between sessions and confronting the guy leads to like actual temper tantrums#literally said âthe fuck do I care if the party dies I'm not gonna be useful anymoreâ after the GM gave him feedback to maybe ease it up#he never says things like that when the gm or me are present but we still get info. he just can't be confronted by the gm like that
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You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.
But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.
Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.
I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.
FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.
#free palestine#gaza#palestine#rafah#israel#current events#gaza strip#human rights#childrens rights#save the children#cease fire in gaza#cease fire now#cease fire permanently#palestinian genocide#support gaza#pray for palestine#ceasfire now
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The Youngest Ancient
An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth.Â
We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i donât actually know if thatâs within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too.Â
Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and heâs not having it.Â
~~
They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasnât like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger.Â
Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldnât even know it had happened.Â
âThereâs always begging an Ancient for help.â Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far.Â
Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. âYou think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?âÂ
âCould be the only course of action.â Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it.Â
âNah, itâs a much crazier idea than that.â Constantine said flatly. âWeâre not talking about any of those old hats weâre used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.âÂ
Batmanâs eyes narrowed. âYou want to bring in a complete unknown.âÂ
âI want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.â Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. âHeard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.âÂ
âBaby Ancient.â Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. âHow does that work?â
âWell they gotta come from somewhere, donât they?â Constantine shrugged. He didnât know and he wasnât going to ask.Â
âIâve heard the same rumors.â Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantineâs claims. âEven if they canât do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.âÂ
Flash clucked his tongue. âWe literally have everything to lose if we donât do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.âÂ
âHow long do you need to prepare?â Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didnât have a hand in.
Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. âGimme an hour.âÂ
âIâll help.â Zatanna said, already standing.Â
âForty minutes then.âÂ
~
The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it.Â
When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes.Â
He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed.Â
âUmâŠâ He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.
âWelcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.â Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. âWe apologize for summoning you on such short notice.âÂ
âOh. Okay.â He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. âYou can call me Phantom. What do you want?âÂ
âYouâre the new Ancient?â Constantine asked without as much tacked.
Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. âSo they tell me. I didnât know there was going to be a superhero test.âÂ
âWe summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.â Batman said, taking over. âA threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we donât have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?âÂ
âBesides souls.â Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot.Â
âDestroyâŠEarth?â Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. âWhy?â
Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. âIâm likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.âÂ
Phantomâs eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. âPrevious planet destroyed? Where?â He paused, âAnd when? I have been feeling a little off.âÂ
No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. âA planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.âÂ
âIs it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?â Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted.Â
He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didnât seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up.Â
He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didnât show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly.Â
The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored.Â
When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. âItâs gone!âÂ
âPhantomâŠ?âÂ
Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found.Â
âTÌąÌÌÌźÍÌÍ«ÍŠȟ̻̚ÍÍÌÍÌÍÈÌŽÌ©Í
tÍŻÌÍÍÌźÌÌ ÌĄÌÍÌÌÍÍÌÍŁÌÍmÌ”ÌÍÍÌłÌÍÍÌČÌÌoÍÌźÌ«ÍÌȘÍÍÍ tÍÌŹÌÍÌÌÍȘÍ hÍÌ ÌÍÌÍÌșÍÍ„Í„ÍeÌ
ÍÌÌżÒÌÌȘÌșÌźÌÌrÍÌȘÌŒÍÌÌÍ Ì«Ì„ÌłÌżÌŸÍÍÍfÍÌÍÍÍŻÌÌÌĂčÌ¶ÌŻÌŹÌ«ÍÍcÌČÍŁÌÌżÍ Í
kÌŠÌÌÌÍÍÌčÌ„ÌÌÌÌÍ€ÍeÍÌŹÍÍĄÍ
rÌ̩̀ÌșÍÌÌÌÍ
.â
To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement.Â
âYeah, iâll stop your threat.â Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care.Â
Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what theyâd done by summoning a baby Ancient. âSo that happened.â Flash commented. âAre we still planning for doomsday?âÂ
âWeâll seeâŠâ Constantine muttered. âThough if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.âÂ
âNot what we wanted to hear, John.â Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her.Â
~
In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as heâd been when heâd left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors.Â
Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face.Â
Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. âPhantom.â He greeted cautiously. âYouâre back.â
âUh huh.â Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. âI got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.âÂ
âGotâŠrid of.â Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.Â
âSo weâre good?â Flash asked. âGood work, kid.âÂ
âYeah, he deserved it.â Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm.Â
Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. âDo i wanna know what youâre doinâ?â
Phantom beamed. âI got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.âÂ
âYour planet?â Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. âThe destroyed planet!?âÂ
âYep.â Phantom looked pleased with himself. âNow i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.âÂ
âPut itâŠback.â Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.âÂ
It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. âMay i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i donât know much about them.âÂ
Phantom perked up. âIâm the Ancient of Space!â He ignored Constantineâs groan from across the room. âIâm really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.âÂ
âAnd you have time abilities?â Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination.Â
âNope! But Clockwork does.â Phantom said. âHeâll do it for me.âÂ
âWill he?â The Flash stared.Â
Phantom didnât seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. âClockwork!â he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes.Â
He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasnât going to give one.Â
This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower.Â
Phantom didnât seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. âFix!â he asked cheerfully.Â
Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. âYou know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim."Â
Phantomâs smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. âIâll cry. Swear to the Ancients, iâll start crying.âÂ
The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. âDo you think tears will alter the timeline?âÂ
Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp.Â
âAn asshole destroyed a piece of me.â Phantom said, lips wobbling. âI felt it. I didnât feel good.âÂ
Clockworkâs form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, âIf you start weeping youâll summon the others.âÂ
Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath.Â
Clockwork crossed his arms. âHow far back do you want it?âÂ
âYay!â Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. âEight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. Iâm sure theâŠGreen LanternâŠpeople⊠can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. Thatâll be fine, right?âÂ
Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient.Â
Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staffâs clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet werenât on the floor.Â
âThank you, Clockwork!â Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly.Â
âHurry along home before the yetiâs start to look for you.â Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone.Â
âYes, yes.â Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted.Â
No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. âGood! Itâs back where itâs supposed to be!âÂ
âItâs back?â Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions.Â
âYep.â Phantom said. âItâs really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.âÂ
âIs that a map of the galaxy on your skin?â Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears.Â
âNo.â Phantom said. âItâs a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.âÂ
âEveryâŠâ Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him.Â
âCome, Your Majesty.â Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. âYouâve had your fun.âÂ
âOkay, okay.â Phantom mumbled.Â
âMajesty?â Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone.Â
Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. âAh, yeah. Iâm the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.âÂ
The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing.Â
âI take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?â Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower.Â
~~
I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back.Â
I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it.Â
Feel free to take this idea, though iâm sure something like it exists already. ^__^
Master List
#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#Danny Phantom#The youngest ancient#justice league#Clockwork#Danny feeling the loss of a planet#whole solar systems on Danny's skin#star freckles
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hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?
âI WANNA BE YOURS.â
KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.
summary: what the request said!
warnings: swearing (bakugouâŠ), mentions of todorokiâs childhood (very brief), thatâs it i believe!
a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!
â
BAKUGOU KATSUKI â
he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldnât even think he liked you if you guys werenât already dating. the way he shows his love for you is⊠questionable.
he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .
heâll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.
âyouâre so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.â
youâll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (heâs actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).
he takes you everywhere with him and doesnât care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? youâre coming with. you canât stay a second away from him before heâs rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.
your biggest fan by far, anything you do heâs practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second heâll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.
heâll also deny the fact heâs a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.
kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.
âwhat the fuck are you laughing at?â
âyou stalking y/n!â
âI WAS NOT STARING AT HER.â sure⊠liar. you literally just outed yourselfâŠ
bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.
SHOTO TODOROKI â
the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.
heâs absolutely enamoured with you. he isnât shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .
this boy will downright show his love for you.
we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had â always being isolated.
thatâs also the reason why he doesnât understand why he canât stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried⊠why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?
cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when youâre with each other.
you canât believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.
meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship heâs blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.
your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you donât want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys iâm sorry).
he is very attentive, heâs such a simp. heâll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.
there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .
once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.
starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.
âhere.â a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.
âi canât find my-â
ây/n. here.â
you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.
your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.
heâs too sweet for you and such a simp!
â
a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.
SEND REQUESTS! đ€đ€
#mha#mha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#mha fluff#bnha#shoto fluff#bakugou katuski x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki fluff#bakugou katsuki fluff#bakugou fluff#mha headcanons#mha scenarios#mha imagines#mha angst#mha smut#shoto todoroki#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#todoroki x reader#shoto x reader#katsuki x y/n#shoto x y/n#todoroki x you#bakugou headcanons#todoroki headcanons#shoto headcanons#katsuki headcanons#â
ïœĄïœ„:celestewrites
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.
#idk if this is angsty or not so im just gonna throw it in the tags#but like. i fully know what my problem is. and how i could fix it. and literally the only thing making me sad and upset is myself#why? because my choice of medium is writing. because that makes it incredibly difficult to get anything out there and get people interested#in my creations. cause visual media is preferred so much over written anything cause its so much easier to consume#it doesnt help that i dont work with popular characters or ships (literally my current work im most excited about is for a ship only *i*#have contributed to so far. like.. we are talking that level of unpopular choices here)#and like. i dont say this to shame or blame anyone. this is obviously my choice. ive decided to do both of these things when i could have i#so much easier. i wouldnt be better at it if i did visual shit still. im way worse at that than writing. ive always been a writer first#but.. honestly seeing the difference with interaction and even in general interest due to these factors...#idk man. again i know this is entirely self inflicted like i chose this. i chose all of these things. and continue to do so#ive literally seen all of this. im not making it up. im not talking about just in general im talking this has happened to me personally#that rare time in june i made and posted art? do you understand the amount of ppl that said 'ive missed your stuff'?#the same people that dont consume my current works due to their form and have never went on the lengths to say the same thing about#my writing? when i took a two year hiatus from all of that basically? but a few months of visual arts?#idk fam im just. i understand all of this but im hurt. you know?#cause i know it doesnt matter. and its so much more difficult. i know there are people out there who love and appreciate what i do#and who understand how important this is to me compared to other stuff and before and whatnot#but at the same time the negatives (that are mostly in my head but they are still real things and they still hurt) are so much louder#i dont know where im going with this. im just thinking. excuse the brain barf#or dont. whatever. im just.. acknowledging my recent feelings. there is a reason i had a breakdown few days ago and yesterday was so rough#i should probably go to bed. sorry about this#its not gonna change anything in how stuff is viewed or how im gonna act about it but just.. you know. putting this out there#the inequality of how art is treated just has me thinking. that maybe im not made for this#maybe i should just be the below mediocre visual artist that does things that give them no happiness just cause it gets more attention#idk. just. yeah#good night#night is an absolute mess on main
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Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Summary: Covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family's bakery. She just hadn't expected to have met him in such a state.
Word Count: 11.8k
Warnings: pining, angst, fluff, a small assault (reader gets hit, not by Benedict!), mention of pregnancy (like, literally a line or two),
A/N: Did I write an entire fic barely based on that one scene in Camp Rock where Mitchie is covered in flour? Yes. Do I regret it? No.
With the melting of snow and the promise of new starts, the social season was nearly upon the ton, nearly upon all the potential suitors and debutantesâall waiting with bated breath to secure a match this year. Of course, those in waiting were of high status, usually tied to the aristocracy or drowning in wealth beyond compare.
The others? The ones not blessed with endless funds or pure luck of royal lineage had the privilege, nay, honor to serve those who would be so fortunate. For the many, it included servicing the estatesâbutlers, ladyâs maids, governesses, home chefs and the like. For the patrons on Tilbury Street, it included the less sought after roles, polishers, cobblers, modistes and bakeries. One bakery in particular was the prime choice for the aristocracy, a diamond in the rough as some may say.Â
â
âI just simply donât understand why we cannot have our chefs prepare the pastries for the ball,â Eloise Bridgerton nearly groaned, her arm hooked onto her motherâs. They had been walking up and down Tilbury Street for the better part of twenty minutes, simply enjoying the fresh spring weather. âIâve never known them to make horrid dishes.â
âItâs the first Bridgerton Ball of the season, Eloise,â the dowager viscountess murmured politely. âAlong with it being the first Kate has had the pleasure of hosting, putting an order in here is a fresh foot forward, one thatâll impress our guests.â
Eloise barked back a laugh. âIf it is so important, why is Kate not here to make the order herself?â
âThat, dear sister, is an excellent point.â Following close behind the two Bridgerton ladies was a rather tall shadow, equally as dashing and nearly as cleverâBenedictâthe second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood. âSurely Anthony could spare his wife for one afternoon, I canât imagine it being so difficult to pry them from their bedroomââ
âBenedict Bridgerton!â Violet snapped, turning hot on her heels to face her son. He could only laugh.
âOh Mother, you must relax,â he said lovingly, patting both hands on her shoulders. âYou know better than I that it could have been a far fouler thoughtâwhy, I can easily imagine three other ways I could have expressed my way of thinking.â
âAh, ever the poet, Benedict,â Eloise smiled wryly, pushing her way to the front of their clump. No one had the heart to mention the glaring fact that it was likely she didnât know the way in which they were headed.Â
âThis bakery,â Violet continued half-heartedly. âIs a prestigious supplier for the tonâyou may recall their exquisite cake that we had ordered for Daphneâs wedding.â
Benedict hummed contently. âIt was a good cake,â he practically nodded off at the thought. The decadent sponge nearly brought him to tearsâof course, it could have very well been the relief from undue stress of Daphneâs season altogether, having nearly lost his older brother to an unnecessary duel.
âI think it was far too sweet,â Eloise said, scrunching her nose in distaste. âI had to drink nearly three cups of tea to clear out the sugar on my tongue.â
âAh, but whatâs life without a little bit of sweetness?â Benedict nearly sang.
âPerfectly fulfilling,â his younger sister quipped back.
The dowager viscountess could only sigh, her eyes reaching up to the clouds above. While she loved nothing more than being the mother of all eight of her perfect children, their endless bickering and bantering grew vexing. It merely took the Bridgerton siblings another minute of arguing before stopping in front of a quaint storefrontâthe sickeningly sweet aroma filling the street. âWeâre here.â
âI could have told you as much,â Benedict mumbled, rubbing his temple lightly. âThe scent is⊠overpowering.â If he were lucky, the headache that was quickly forming would dull fast.
âBut Benedict,â Eloise turned hot on her heels. âWhatâs life without a bit of sweetness?â
Violet Bridgerton was quick to catch her second eldest's hand before it met the back of Eloiseâs head. âIf itâs too much for you, dear,â she released her grip. âPlease feel free to wait for us out here. It should only take a moment.â
âLike a âmomentâ at the modiste?â Benedict crossed his arms, his brow nearly touching his hairline. âIf I recall, the last time I accompanied you to the dressmaker, I spent over an hour basking in the summer sun.â
âNothing logical stopped you from coming in,â Eloise drawled. âOf course, if you wanted to managed to stay pleasant with the seamstress, one should have kept it in his trousersââ Â
âWeâll only be a moment,â Violet hushed Eloise quickly, grasping the top of her arm firmly. âThere seems to be little wait. Weâll be on our way shortly.â
He huffed towards the sunâwhile there had been little heat near the start of the English spring, the sun was warm against his skin. Benedict enjoyed being outdoors more often than not, it was usually the reason he accompanied his mother on their errands nearly every other day of the season. That, of course, and the fact it got his worrying mama off of his back to be wed. With Anthony finally securing a match, it was only fitting for Violet Bridgerton to be working her way down her list of endless childrenâhaving only two of eight married off. âIt should only be a moment,â Benedict reassured himself, watching various other families and couples walk by.Â
That is, until he heard a rather loud bang coming from the alley beside him. He should have known betterâhe was taught betterâthan to investigate outlandish sounds, especially in town, but Benedict Bridgerton was nothing if not curious. He peeked around the corner, holding his breath, preparing to be met with a wild animal of some kind. His view was shaky at best, hardly could see a thing around the bricks. If he wanted a better look, heâd have to take a few steps towards the unusual noise.Â
A large white cloud had enveloped the small alley, it was difficult to even see a few meters ahead, let alone what could have caused the loud commotion. Benedict waved his hand through the mysterious fog, trying to clear some air. âHello?â He heard a soft squeak. An animal, it had to have been, Benedict was sure of it now. âIs anyone there?âÂ
A cough rang through the alley, startling him more than rogue vermin could have. The cloud had begun to dissipate, the white settling on the stone street below. Flour, if he had to guess, given the location.
âIâm alright,â a voice murmured quietly, another soft cough following quickly after. The shape of a person came into view, the air finally clearing enough for him to make sense of the scene he came upon. It was one of a woman now covered head to toe in the white powderâshe had no distinguishable features, the flour was caking every bit of her body and dress. Just striking eyes that made Benedictâs heart jump to his throat. âJust⊠made a mess.â
âSo it seems,â Benedict hummed, stepping over a pile of powder to get closer. âDo you require any help?â
âNo, no,â she laughed. âI wouldnât want you to get dirty. I fear Iâve got quite enough of that for the both of us.â
âI donât mind getting dirty,â Benedict said quickly, his tongue moving faster than his brain. âBut⊠yes, I suppose itâd be for the best if I refrained from getting any flour on me. May I ask howâŠ?â
âClumsy,â she uttered simply, the shrug of her shoulders speaking nothing but truth. âI must have the slipperiest fingers in townâI wish I could say this was the first timeâŠâ
âManage to cover yourself in flour often?â Benedictâs lips pulled into a jesting smirk.
âNearly every other day,â the woman sighed. âWeâve grown accustomed to purchasing an extra sack or two just for situations like these."
âI hardly doubt you could be that clumsy,â Benedict laughed, leaning against the stone wall. âBut, I am painting quite the image in my head.â
âOh I do hope Iâm decent in that image, Mr. Bridgerton,â she giggled, curtsying in a near-mocking manner.
âHow do you knowââ
âEveryone knows your family, Mr. Bridgerton, Iâd be a fool to admit I donât know who you areâthough you and your brothers all blur together, so I am merely taking a shot in the dark in which of the four you are.â
âOh?â
She nodded once, a flurry of powder falling from her hair. A muffled shout from the back door startled her, grabbing her attention. âAh,â the woman waved the air in front of her face, âI suppose I should take my leaveâget cleaned up.â
âOf course,â Benedict said simply. âI wonât keep you.â In nearly an instant, the mysterious dusted lady disappeared from view, diving into the back door. He was taken aback by her candidnessâhaving addressed him so forwardly without the pleasantries of a name exchange. âDamn,â he mumbled to himself, kicking residual flour off of his polished shoe, âI never asked for her name.â Would it be too forward to knock on the back door to ask for her? Benedict Bridgerton couldnât wrap his head around the interactionâshe nearly sent him into a tizzy.
âBrother?âÂ
Eloise stood at the end of the alley, clutch in hand, face pinched in confusion.Â
âAh, I suppose youâre finished?â
âHardly,â Eloise scoffed, âMother insisted on doubling the initial order âjust to be safeâ. Sheâll be out in a moment.âÂ
âPerhaps I should go inside to accompany herââ
âAnd leave your unwed sister unchaperoned in this part of town?â Eloise pressed a hand to her brotherâs chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes danced quickly to the street in the distance, clearly not paying any attention to his sister. âBenedict?â
âHm?â He glanced down. âAh, maybe we should both go back insideââ
âYouâreâŠâ she pushed on him harder, nearly sending him backwards. âActing strange. Not terribly long ago you wanted nothing to do with this place and now, youâre dying to jump into the building that brought you so much strife?â Eloise removed her hand from him, settling it down by her side as she glanced at him up and down. The blues of his outfit were covered slightly in a white powerânot enough to really notice, but enough to give the appearance of filth. âAnd youâre covered in⊠flour?â
âI donât wish to share every moment of my day with you, dear Sister,â Benedict said simply, sighing contently. âMy business is my business.â
âBusiness,â Eloise parroted. âSure.â
Violet Bridgerton had finished the order quickly, mumbling something about the higher prices this time of yearâshe had gotten a good deal regardless. Benedict was hardly listening, for he was already planning his next trip to this very bakery, hoping to meet the girl in flour once more.Â
He never did get the chance, to go back to town. His studies took up most of his free time, any other moment he had was spent with his ever-growing family. Just recently, his sister Daphne brought over her newest additionâanother daughter named Belindaâwho happened to be yet another spitting image of her mother. Benedict had a theory that every new Bridgerton baby will simply just inherit all the Bridgerton features, so far he had been proven correct.Â
âDamn,â Benedict mumbled, violently dabbing a paint brush into his water cup, the colors swirling from the end.
He had been in his studio for the last few hours, mixing endless pigments and oils together, trying to concoct the color in his mindâs eye. It was impossible, he theorized, to create the exact shades and hues of her eyes. It was the most striking thing he remembered about her appearanceâsave for the copious amount of white flour caking her formâand Benedict Bridgerton had come to the conclusion that her eyes were simply forged by God Himself, a color not meant for mortal recreation.
âWhy can I notâŠâ He sighed, slumping back in his stool, paintbrush nearly hitting his trousers. âThis is impossible.â
The grand clock beside the door chimed out. It was nearly time to get ready for Anthony and Kateâs ballâan occasion he was most dreading, save for enjoying the few pastries that came from the quaint bakery down in town. Reluctantly, he began to pry himself from his studio and made his way to the washroom, preparing to soak away any remnants of her.
â
âMother,â (Y/N) chimed out, tying the serving apron to her waist, âI donât see the reason for my attendance this evening. Surely the hosts of the event will have their own serving staff?â
â(Y/N),â her mother exasperated, throwing a towel down. âYour brothers are ill and bedridden and have been the last few days. Your father and I are counting on you to help fulfill the order, my back isnât what it used to be, if you recall.â Â
The girl sighed, her eyes rolling right up to the cracking ceiling. âHow funny, it seems your back flares up nearly in time for deliveries to be made,â the girl mumbled.
âWhat was that?â Her mother turned quickly towards her only daughter. âIâm sure I misheard you.â
âYou must have,â (Y/N) sang. âFor I said Iâm willing to help with the delivery, mother.â
The older woman narrowed her brow. âNever do I hear such sass from the boys⊠Perhaps a bit of manual labor will refocus your priorities.âÂ
âI already agreed,â (Y/N) reiterated. âAs if I had terribly too much of a choiceâŠâ
âNo,â her mother clicked, slapping the a rather large ball of dough that resided on the floured surface. âYou do not. Now come, help your mother roll this out.â
She had gotten ready for the ball in record timeâseeing as how sheâs never gotten ready for one. (Y/N) dug through her motherâs wardrobe, finding an old and somewhat outdated green dress to wear, but it did the trick just fine. It was far nicer than the frocks she had owned anyhow, a light embroidery laced the edges and was sure to be run over by her fingertips endlessly throughout the evening. Â
âThe carriage is here!â Her father couldnât have shouted louder throughout the small flat. Their home resided above the bakery, a quaint little thing with only two bedroomsâ(Y/N) had the pleasure of sleeping in a rather over-glorified closet. If she reached her arms out, sheâd be able to touch two of the walls easily, but like everything in her life, she made do. Unexpected child? Unexpected room.Â
âIâll be right there,â (Y/N) said, tying the now-cleaned apron around her waist, checking herself in the reflection of her water pitcher. âDamned hair,â her fingers moved to tuck a loose ringlet back into positionâshe had spent the better part of the evening trying to style it.Â
âWe need to load the carriage and make way to Bridgerton House,â her father repeated, smoothing his formalwear out. He hardly had the chance to wear it, seeing as situations like this happen only once in a while. âWe must make a good impression, perhaps weâll find more business this evening.â
âThatâll be a blessing,â her mother agreed, heading down the stairs to the bakery. âWe could always use more business and the dowager viscountess is well liked around the ton, surely sheâll have pleasant things to say about our work.â
âI thought we let the pastries âspeak for themselvesâ,â (Y/N) chimed in, carefully picking up a parcel. Her parents simply glared at her, allowing their daughter to silently move along with the loading process.Â
The silence continued throughout the lengthy ride to Bridgerton Houseâthe bakers not uttering a word until disembarking to unload all of the sweets. True to her original thought, the Bridgertons had their staff do the bulk of the unloading, carrying each parcel and box into the grand room that was to be the heart of the ball, all that was left to move was the elegant cake specially ordered by the dowager viscountess.
âDo you need a hand?â
âOh, that would beââ (Y/N) turned around to the mysterious voice, only to find the same Bridgerton boy from earlier in the week standing behind her. âIâMr. Bridgerton, Iâm sure I can find my father to assist, you really donât need toââ
âI insist,â Benedict held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. âI shouldnât allow a lady to carry such a thing on her own, it would be most improper.â
âIâm certainly no lady,â she scoffed, readjusting her apron. âIâm not a part of your âseasonâ or whatever it is you lot do during the spring and summer months.â
Benedict barked out a laugh. âDebuted into the Marriage Mart or not, youâre still a lady and I am ever the gentleman, so please, indulge me.â
A blinding heat flushed across her cheeksâshe was sure it was visible from down the street. (Y/N) stepped to the side to allow Benedict to grab ahold of one side of the tray, her hands curling around the other. âThank you⊠for your help.â
âItâs no bother,â Benedict said truthfully. âIâve been practically bored out of my skull all afternoon, this is truly the highlight of my evening.â
âHelping me carry a cake?â She asked, turning a corner carefully.
âSeeing you again,â he hummed unabashedly, noting the way her grip stiffened. âThough I must say, I think I prefer you without the flour.â
âHow do you know that girl was me? I was covered head to toe.â
âYour eyes,â Benedict said simply. âTheyâre the most expressive and exquisite eyes Iâve had the pleasure of viewing.â
Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.
âThat, and I made a bold assumption when I saw you and the pastries arrive this evening.â He laughed lightly, afraid to drop the masterpiece. âI assumed correctly, no?â
âYou,â (Y/N) tried to allow her cheeks to cool before continuing.âWould be correct. Very wise you are, Mr. Bridgerton.â
âBenedict.â
âBenedict,â she repeated softly, twisting herself to set the cake down on the table. âMy apologies.â
The ballroom was grandâmuch nicer than any place sheâd dream of residing inâdelicate decorations hung from the sconces, flowers covered nearly every inch of the free space. It was, in every meaning, elegant. âThis is⊠where you live?â
âAh,â Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. âMy brother has been kind to allow me to stay here since he married, seeing as I only have my own property in the country. But yes, this is one of the homes I grew up in.â
âOne of the homes,â she repeated back to him. âAnd here I thought I was spoiled with my broom closet.â
He turned a vibrant shade of red. âOh! I didn't mean toââ
Her laughter filled the ballroom, the lightness practically lifting Benedict upwards. âI was merely teasing. Iâm well aware of your status and wealth, Mr. BridgertonââÂ
âBenedict.â
âAh! Sorry,â (Y/N) felt the twinge of shame hit her chest, it was small but enough to keep her in line to avoid making the mistake again. âI meant it in jest.â
âFunny girl,â Benedict clicked, waving his finger lightly. âYouâve got quite a sense of humor.â
âGrowing up with nothing more than sacks of flour and parcels of sugar allows one to get creative with her jokes,â she explained carefully, treading lightly as to not make it sound completely miserable. âThough, I think they were a better audience anyhowâŠâ
âYou wound me,â a hand grabbed his heart, knees buckling towards the ground. âOh how the lady wounds me.â
âI believe I told you, Benedict, I certainly am no lady.â
âWell, the lady has neglected to give me her name,â he peeked up from the floorâhaving found quite a cozy position. âSo how else should I address such a fair maiden?â
âFair maiden,â she scoffed playfully, voice barely above a whisper. âCertainly am nothing close to a maiden⊠but, if you must know,â she paused, âmy name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).â
â(Y/N)âŠâ Benedict repeated it, mostly to himself. He rose from the floor, eyes not leaving her own. âWhat a beautiful name.â
âIâthank you. I suppose you should give my parents such a compliment, though. I am simply the recipient of such a gift.â
âWell, when I ask your parents for permission to court their daughter, Iâll pass the message along.â
She froze.Â
âAh, what was that?â
âI hate to be so bold,â Benedict sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. âBut I feel the need to let you know of my intentionsâmy interest in you.â
âOh you must be mistaken,â (Y/N) shook her head. âYouâd want nothing to do with a girl like me. Surely there are other women in the ton who strike your fancy?â
âNope,â he said simply. âNot a one. You, on the other hand, with your striking eyes and seemingly endless beauty, piqued my interest. If I may be honest, I havenât stopped thinking about our encounter in the alleyâitâs been on the forefront of my mind for days.â
She blinked, the gears in her head trying to keep up with the words Benedict was speaking. âBut I am not from your world, Benedict. Even if I was interested in pursuing a courtshipââ
âAre you not?â His eyes struck wide open. âIâm quite the catch, you see. Well-bred, scholarly and, if I might say so myself, Iâm quite the talented artist. Easy on the eyes, too.â
âBenedict.â He stopped and looked at the woman. She was practically glowing in the candlelight. âWhile Iâm not saying Iâm⊠not interested, I canât help but feel like you are infatuated with the idea of me and not⊠me.â
âHow do you mean?â
She laughed humorlessly. âYou donât know me, truly. My likes, dislikes, how I take my tea, what weather I fancyââ
âSee,â Benedict grabbed her hand, âI wish to know those things. Is that not the purpose of a courtship?â
âI am not from your world, Benedict. I have priorities, a duty to my family and our businessâI canât spend a moment thinking of the frivolity of a courtship with a man of your status.â
âBut if I were, say, the butcherâs son it would be different?â
âYes,â she removed her hand from his. âOf course it would be. Iâm surprised you havenât thought this through.â
âI have been thinking it through since weâve met,â Benedict nearly spat, feeling anger bubble up in his chest. âI am not the type of man who wishes to court just anyone, you know.â
âSo you wish to court me just because you can? Because how ever could I say no?â
âIâof course not!â
âWeâre perfect strangers who shared a momentâalbeit an endearing oneâout in the middle of an alley. We both cleaned up and went about our lives,â she shook her head. âNothing cosmic or magical about it.â
âI did not expect you to be so against the idea, unless⊠thereâs another man of your affections?â
She groaned, pinching her nose. âNo. No other man. Has a woman ever said no to you before, Mr. Bridgerton?â
He paused, clearly taken aback.
âWell,â she smoothed the tablecloth, the wrinkle in the bottom corner was annoying her, âlet me be the first, then. No, I am not interested in a courtship, nor do I think I have any interest in a courtshipâwith you or anyoneâso do not take it terribly too personally.âÂ
âNever? Donât you plan to have a family of your own?â
âI already have a family,â she said simply. âI have no time for foolish ideas of having an adoring husband, three beautiful babies and a peaceful life out in the country.â
âThat seems awfully specificââ
âNo matter,â she waved. âThank you for your interest, Mr. Bridgerton, I am flattered, truly.â
She walked away, hoping to hide in the carriage the rest of the night. Was she a fool? To turn down a courtship from such a sophisticated and notable man of the ton?
Benedict seemed to think so. True to her comment, he couldnât recall a time in which a woman had rejected his advancesânever in the name of a courtship, this would be his firstâso to watch her walk away stung deeply, like a thorn to his heart. He was genuinely interested in the girl, he knew it. He just needed to prove it to her.
â
Days had passed since the Bridgerton ball and (Y/N) had successfully faked a stomach ache and ârestedâ in the carriage until the night was over and done with. She was busy in the kitchen, working hard on a batch of fresh loaves for the storefront. Flour dusted her apronâthe humor not lost on herâas she thought more and more about Benedictâs proposal.Â
The bell to the shop rang out, her brotherâs voice gave a muffled greeting, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular day at the bakery. It was calming, to work with the dough, taking virtually nothing and creating something delicious was soothing to her soul. She continued to knead the dough, working it like clay against her palms before the door to the back swung wide open.
â(Y/N), I do believe you have a visitor,â Harry, her second eldest brother smirked. He had finally recovered enough to help around the shop again, much to their motherâs delight. âOne of the gentlemen variety, if you must know.â Â
She stopped dead in her tracks.
âDid he give you a name?â
âOnly asked for you,â Harry shrugged. âI figured you mustâve been expecting him,â he walked closer to her, taking over the kneading, âbrought you flowers and looks rather fancy.â
She wiped her hands off on the already soiled apron, clapping her hands once for good measure. âDonât over-work those, Iâll shove your face into the oven.â
Harryâs laugh rang out through the kitchen as she braved the door to the store. She knew it was inevitable, to expect him to come and try to woo her again, though she wasnât expecting it so soon. The door felt rough against her palms, swinging wide open to the storefront. Sure enough, a one Benedict Bridgerton was standing by the counter, eyeing the various loaves on display.Â
âAh, Miss. (Y/L/N),â Benedict said, almost bowing. âIâm delighted you could join me.â
âMr. Bridgerton,â (Y/N) smiled sickeningly sweet, forced beyond all measure. âWhat a⊠surprise.â
âA wonderful one, I presume?â He jested. Her eyes found the colorful bouquet quickly, she was trying her hardest to not make eye contact. It was ornateâfancy, just like her brother saidâdecked out in a healthy mix of wild blooms and expensive looking flowers. âAh! My apologies, these are for you,â Benedict said, lifting the bouquet across the counter.Â
She reluctantly took them, cradling the bunch as if it were a newborn babe. âThank you, Mr. Bridgerton.â
He swallowed thickly at the formality of his name, but bit his tongue. âI must say, you looked exquisite at the ball, but I think your natural element suits you more favorably, why, youâre practically glowing.â Benedict pointed to her floured apron and messy frock, having been in the kitchen all morning. âLess flour than the first time.â
Her grip tightened around the bouquet. âIs there anything I can help you with? Perhaps another order for your mother?â
The man shook his head, laughing lightly. âNo, no order. I just wished to see you.â The bluntness of his answer nearly shocked her, but the effect wore quickly.
âPerhaps I wished the opposite?â
âOh, my dear,â Benedict practically mewled. âIf that were true, you wouldnât have come out here in the first place, now would you?â
Like a gaping trout, she had no reply. Perhaps he was right. She didnât have to come out to the front of the store, the gnawing curiosity got the better of her and practically pulled her through that door.Â
âIf you are here to try to get me to change my mindââ
âI wish to spend the afternoon with you.â
She blinked.
âJust one afternoon, allow me to try and prove how serious I am about courting you,â Benedict said earnestly. âAfter that, if you are still of the same mind, I will never bother you again. You have my word.â
Hesitantly, she lowered the bouquet, her shoulders slumping. She was thinking so hard about his offer, Benedict swore he could see steam rising from her ears. âI⊠cannot just leave the bakery, itâs my familyâs livelihoodââ
âIâll buy the lot,â Benedict said, pressing a handful of coins onto the counter top. âSell me whatever it is you make in a dayâa small price to pay for a moment of your time.â
âYou cannot simply throw your money at things and expect it to always work out for you, Mr. Bridgerton,â she said sternly, eyeing the sack of coins longingly. She would be kidding herself if the offer didnât sound appealing. âI am no woman on the corner, you cannot buy my time.â
âThen consider it a tip,â Benedict hummed, pushing the bag closer to her. âFor your excellent service at the Bridgerton ball. Nothing nefarious, nothing expected of you. Just a man buying some bread.â
âLoads of bread,â (Y/N) mumbled, quickly calculating how many loaves he truly was willing to walk out with. The amount of money was unclear, but if she had to wager, he practically bought out the whole storefront. Her parents would be thrilledâthey could even take a rare day off, just because their daughter spent the afternoon with a practical stranger. âFine. One afternoon.â
The glee that washed across his body did not go unnoticed, he practically lit up the room with his joy.
âYou wonât regret this,â he said seriously. âTrust that my intentions are pure andââ
ââhonest and true,â she droned, finishing his thought. âYes, yes, I understand.â
Benedict nodded. âRight. Well, shall we?â
âWill you allow me a moment to change? I do not think you wish to spend your day with a girl caked in flour.â
âFunny enough, I wouldnât have it any other way,â he grinned. She was unamused. âBut, if you insist.â
It didnât take long for her to clean up, a change in her frock and a readjustment to her hair was all that was needed. She found herself staring in her mirror a bit longer than usual, taking in her features. Could he really be interested in her? He seemed so taken by her looks when she herself considered them⊠so plain. She shook her head, effectively jumping out of her haze and proceeded to head back downstairs to meet her suitor for the afternoon.Â
âPerhaps you were right,â Benedict said softly. âThis may be your best look to date.â
A heat warmed her cheeks and it wasnât the summer sun. âFlattery will get you nowhere, Mr. BridgertonââÂ
âAh!â Benedict waved a finger. âIf we are to spend the afternoon together, I insist you call me by my given name.â
Her lips pressed together in protest. âIf you insistââ
âOh and I do, my darling,â Benedict nearly sang.
âBenedict,â she corrected. âWhat sorts of plans do you have for this afternoon? Surely you did not produce such a grand gesture only to leave our day up to chance.â
âI am feeling quite parched,â Benedict said, almost ignoring her comment. âCare for a spot of tea?â In their walk down the street, he had managed to stop right in front of a quaint little tea shop. She hardly noticed.
âAnd if I do not care for tea?â
âI hear they have excellent scones and biscuits,â Benedict countered. âSurely not sweeter than you, but delicious all the same.â
âSweeter than my scones, you mean?â
Benedict raised a brow, puckering his lips lightly. She heard him correctly the first time. âSo. Tea?â
They sat at a small table near the back of the shop, a hot pot of herbal tea sat between them. It looked entirely domestic, a pot of tea shared between lovers, any onlooker could have deduced as much.
âPass the honey?â (Y/N) pointed to the small jar next to Benedictâs hand. He nodded and pushed it closer to her.
âYou take your tea with honey?â He probed.
âHerbal tea, yes,â she confirmed, stirring a spoonful into her cup. âIf it is black tea, a healthy amount of milk is entirely welcomed in my drink, no sugar.â
âInteresting,â Benedict said, watching her intently stir the honey until it dissolved into the hot liquid. âI prefer plain black tea myself, though occasionally my brother Colin will bring exquisite teas from his travels across the seas.â
âAnd Colin is which brother?â The question slipped out quickly, she hardly noticed she had asked.
âOne of my two younger brothers,â Benedict smiled gently. âNot much younger than I, but I do have a few years on him, not as many as I have on Gregory, of course. Heâs practically the babe of the familyâsave for sweet Hyacinth.â
âEight childrenâŠâ She thought aloud. âWere your parents working towards a record number?â
âI always jest that they wished to complete the entire alphabet,â Benedict mused. âBut, alas, twenty six seems a bit much.â He took a sip of his tea, enjoying the lingering aroma. âSo, you know there are eight of us?â
âEveryone knows your family,â she said simply. âDo not flatter yourself.â
âOf course,â he hummed into his cup, a smile brewing from his lips. âYou have siblings, yes? I believe I met your brother earlier.â
âTwo older brothers,â (Y/N) groaned lightly. âJack and Harry, the latter being the one you met. They are⊠oh how do I put this? Exceptionally irritating.â
Benedict laughed into his drink. âSounds quite a lot like my siblings.â
âMy parents expect Jack to take over the bakery,â she explained quietly, her voice lowering. âBut he has no desire to bake whatsoever. He can hardly make a sponge cake.â
âAnd a sponge cake isâŠ?â
âOne of the most basic cake recipes a baker can learn,â she continued. âI usually end up being the one who pulls the slack Jack creates.â
âAnd Harry?â
âWhen he isnât galavanting across town with the ladies of the night, he is holed up in his room doing Lord knows what. Certainly nothing that helps the family business.â
âYou care a lot about your family and the business,â Benedict said, stating what is clearly the obvious. âSurely your parents see it too?â
âOh no,â she shook her head wildly. âThat is the most asinine part of the ordeal! They simply do not see me as an asset to the bakeryâsomething that should rightfully be mine should the time come.â She sighed, throwing her head into her hands. âBut, I am expected to keep my head down and decorate cakes like a good girl.â
âYou say that as if you are their pet,â Benedict scoffed lightly. âDo they truly expect such obedience from you?â
âI wasnât wanted,â she said simply. âMy parents merely wanted a son to take over the businessâJack, heâs the oldest. Good for nothing, as it turns out. Harry was to have an extra set of hands around the bakery, but now heâs their prodigal child. Me? I was shacked with an over glorified closet for a room because there truly was no space for me.â She sniffled. âAt least they got a decorator out of it.â
Benedict tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. âYouâre more than a decorator. Surely your parents see that too?â
âTheyâll see some use of me when I get home,â she said into her cup. âSeeing as you bought out our store just to spend a measly few hours with me. Iâm sure that in of itself is worth having an accidental daughter.â
Benedict all but scoffed at this. âYou cannot be serious.â
âNot everyone comes from loving families that wish to do nothing more than pop out babies left and right,â (Y/N) deadpanned, placing her cup back on the table. âIf it were truly up to my parents, they wouldâve stopped after Jack. But, much like the society you come from, an heir and a spare, I suppose.â
âAnd you?â Benedict almost felt afraid to ask.Â
âItâs like you said,â she finished her cup of tea. âI am simply a pet.â
Benedict was never one for fights, but he suddenly had the urge to put his fist through a handful of faces in that moment. âThatâs awful.â It was all he could say.Â
âThatâs life,â she shrugged, picking up a biscuit and examining it closely. Her nose scrunched. âIf you were trying to gain my favor, perhaps you shouldâve taken me somewhere with better biscuits. Itâs insulting to a baker to see such poorly made ones, especially in a place like this.â
He knew she was trying to change the subject. âI shall do better next time.â
âYes, I suppose youââ she stopped. âThat was a rotten trick and you know it.â
âI am certainly no magician, (Y/N),â Benedict finished his tea, hiding the most devilish of smiles from behind the cup. âBut seeing as weâre finished with our pot, perhaps we can take a turn about the park?â
âYouâd risk public outcry and a scandal for being seen with a commoner in the park?â (Y/N) asked, pulling herself from her seat. âWhat would Lady Whistledown say?â
âYou know of Lady Whistledown?â
âEveryone knows of Lady Whistledown,â she scoffs. âI may not have the pleasure to afford her column every time she publishes, but occasionally our regulars will leave their pamphlet for me once theyâre finished.â
âOnly read the good bits, I take it?â
âAs much as I donât understand the world you come from, Benedict, reading Whistledown helps me fill the gaps I am so obviously lacking. Truly, even if I did grow up in your society, I doubt Iâd be able to understand much more than I do now anyway.â
âI reckon youâre right,â Benedict said, a laugh escaping through his nose. âIâm not one for society anywayânever cared much for it.â
âSurely news of this would cause a scandal, though?â
âNews that I am simply walking in the park with a friend? Oh how the newsboys will have trouble selling that story,â Benedict mused, leaning down towards the lady. âPerhaps if we were seen doing something less proper, I suppose. Do you wish to be doing something less proper, (Y/N)?â
She didnât dignify his question with a response, though, the rouge on her cheeks was answer enough.
â
It only took a handful of minutes to walk to the park, the tea shop was so close already. How convenient.
The other ladies in the park, the ones of a more genteel breeding, they were dressed finer than anything (Y/N) could have put on. She felt out of place. She usually did, of course, but something about her outdated frock in contrast to how striking Benedict looked and dressed? It felt rather foolish.Â
Perhaps it was the notoriety of the Bridgerton walking beside her, or the self consciousness of being underdressed enough to catch the eyes of anyone walking past, but it felt like she was a spectacleâsomething in a museum or on display. She was holding bright light, nearly shouting at everyone that she was not enough, not worthy to be in this park, let alone with this man.
âI am tired of walking,â (Y/N) said suddenly.Â
âWe have only just begun,â he laughed. âBut if you require a respiteââ
âLetâs sit,â (Y/N) said just as quickly, practically running to the edge of the pond. Perfectly out of sight to everyone.
âHow secluded,â Benedict mused. âI daresay, I never thought youâd be so agreeableââ
âHush,â (Y/N) admonished, holding a finger up. âI am simply in need of a breakâaway from prying eyes.â
Benedict nodded, not daring to pry further. He watched her slump to the ground, her dress skirt billowing around her like a cloud before settling to the gravity. He continued to stand. âI rather like this park.â
âA park is a park.â
âHave you been before?â
âHere?â She shook her head. âObviously not.â
âMy family, we would come to London during the social season,â Benedict explained. âOur usual residence is out in Kentâanyhow, my father had this spectacular notion to come to the park every week as a family. Looking back, it was probably to save face and show a united Bridgerton front.â
She looked up at Benedict, who was currently plucking a few leaves off of the low hanging branches of the tree. âSounds wise.â
âHe was the wisest,â Benedict agreed. âKeeping the ever-growing number of Bridgerton children entertained became a sport. Anthony, Colin and I were always squabbling, drove my mother rightfully insane, so, my father had a bright idea.â
âPaste your lips together?â She offered.Â
Benedict knelt down, close to the edge of the water. âNo, but I do not doubt that idea crossed their minds,â he laughed, bringing the leaves in his hands to view, âmy father suggested racing.â
âHorse racing?â
He shook his head. âWeâd each pick a leaf and follow it to the other edge of the pondâkept us entertained for hours, running back and forth to reset our leaves and chase them down.â
âSmart man,â she hummed, genuinely impressed by the late viscountâs cleverness.
âSo, pick your contender,â Benedict said softly, displaying the spare leaves like cards in a deck.Â
âYou are serious?â
âDead serious, Iâm afraid,â Benedict clicked, pushing his hand a bit closer to her. âCome on, humor me.â
She looked down at the leaves and back up at Benedict, his blue eyes rivaling the color of the pond. Taking an interest in the middle leafâit was the longest and skinniestâshe plucked it from his fingers. âThis one.â
âExcellent choice,â Benedict said cheerily, dropping the other leaves. âI am more inclined to a smaller oneâseems they move faster down the shore.â
âSize isnât everything, Mr. Bridgerton,â (Y/N) crossed her arms, resting them on her knees. She would never dare to admit it out loud, but she was having a bit of fun.
âAh, perhaps not,â Benedict jested with her, her jab not even shocking him in the slightest. âBut, I reckon it will be a close match regardless.â
After insuring that the lovely lady in his company was watching his movements closely, he set the leaves down on the surface of the water. âFinish line is by that tree over there,â he pointed, finally letting go with his other hand.
âMay the best leaf win,â she giggled. Giggled? Good Lord. A crooked grin cracked on his face, focused too intently at the company rather than the match at hand. âAre you not going to chase them?â
âAnd leave you?â He scoffed. âPerish the thought.â
âI just thought,â her gaze was caught on the leaves, still floating down the edge of the pondâslower than she anticipated, âwell, I suppose I wanted to get the whole picture of your family tradition.â
âShall I run along the coast, then?â Benedict asked playfully, rising back to his feet, thumb pushed towards the water.Â
âOnly to humor me,â she shrugged, not even fighting the smile on her face.Â
âWell, in that case,â Benedict began to remove his jacket, throwing it beside her. With a light jog he caught up to the leaves, they hadnât gone very far anyway, perhaps if it were a windier day heâd have a faster time to keep up with. âYou are in the lead!â He called out.Â
âBrilliant!â Her hands were clasped around her mouth, a cone to help amplify her shout. His smile was like the sun, warm and invitingâshe wished she could spend the day in such a warmth. Benedict practically jumped for joy when the leaves made it to the final stretch, crossing to the rocks on the shore. Nearly falling into the water, he managed to scoop the leaves up and jog back to the woman in the grass. âWell?â
âWell, what?â He asked, nearly out of breath, smile still pulling his lips upward.Â
âThe winner?â
âAh,â he fell to the ground, sitting comfortably next to the bakerâs daughter, pocketing the leaves. âA secret.â
âSo you lost?â
âOh, I assure you, if you won I would be celebrating you until the end of our time together,â Benedict sang. âHoweverâŠâ
âI lost?â She scoffed.Â
âA gentleman is humble in his successes,â he explained carefully. âWe could go again?â
âNo,â she said, humor in her voice. âI think that was more than enough excitement for one afternoon.â
âFor once, we agree,â he said. âMay IâŠ? Could I ask you a question?â
âIf you are proposing marriage, I am afraid Iâll have to declineââ
âNo, no,â he laughed heartily. âNothing of that sort.â
âI suppose I could find it in myself to answer a different question, then.â
âYou were cold to me this morning,â Benedict noted, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. âBut not on the day we met. What changed?â
She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, gaze locked out on the now setting sun. âI⊠am not entirely sure.â
âSurely it was not the leavesââ
âThe leaves may have helped,â she admitted. âHumanized you, in a way.â
âWas I inhuman before?â
âNaturally,â she retorted. âI mean, is it not obvious?â
âYou were protecting your feelings,â Benedict finally realized. âAll this time. You did not wish to be hurtâtruly afraid I was merely stringing you along as an elaborate prank or ruse? Is that right?â
âHow could someone like you ever have an interest in a pauper like me? The bakerâs daughter and the son of a viscount?â Tears dotted her eyes, threatening to fall. How she came so close to crying was beyond her. âIt seems implausible.â
Benedict dropped the grass, fully looking at the lady beside him. She had made herself nearly as small as she felt. He had hit the nail on the head. A gust of wind blew by, bringing leaves down from the tree above.Â
âI do not think less of you because of whose daughter you are,â Benedict said softly, removing a stray leaf from her hair. His fingers guided her head towards him, begging for her to look his way. âI care only about you. Getting to know you. Frankly, your father seems like a mostly alright man, but I do not wish to know him the way I wish to know you.â
âYou may wish for that,â she sniffled. âBut what would the rest of your world think? You, trying to court a woman below your statusââ
âThe only people who should be caring so deeply about my potential courtship are my intended and me,â Benedict said sharply. âThe rest of the ton can frankly kiss my rear end.â
This raised a laugh out of her. It was bubbly and pure, almost like the one of a child. âYou truly donât care what people think about you?â
âNo,â he shook his head. âI do not.â
âHow freeing that must be,â she said.Â
âBeing the second son has its perks,â Benedict looked at her, really looked at her. âNo one expects me to be proper all the time. I am given the freedomâfinancially and otherwiseâto do as I please. I do not have to worry about inheriting a title, siring heirs, that is my brotherâs responsibility.â
âWhy me?â
His head quirked. âI do not understand?â
âYou could court any girl of the ton,â she said. âAnd I am sure more than half of them would never turn down a chance to be courted by a Bridgertonââ
âThey wished for the title,â Benedict sighed. âTo be Viscountess Bridgerton, to marry my older brother and have the notoriety. That ship has already sailed, I'm afraid. You are kind in thinking that many women would be after me though.â
âYou are not ugly,â she listed, âyou have a great humor about you, a pleasant demeanor and a kindness in your eyes. The women of the ton must be foolish, then.â
âPerhaps the foolish one is you?â
âI beg your pardon?â
âYou truly think those things about me?â He asked, awaiting a response. Her jaw was slack, clearly not about to give him any sort of confirmation to his question. âI believe your words, I do. But perhaps you should look at yourself with such eyes?â
âI-I donât understandââ
âOur class differences aside,â Benedict said, as if it was easy to just ignore that, âwhile I was taken by your beauty at firstâyour eyes are something the Gods themselves forged in the fires, stars rivaling their shineâit was your continuous personality that kept my attention. Granted, it helped you were once covered head-to-toe in flour, it really brought out your features.â
Her cheeks flared at the recollection of their first meeting. âIt was not my finest moment.â
âAnd you were vulnerable all the same,â he continued. âYou cared not for who I was, yet, you showed an interest in me anyway. You may not agree with that statement, but you and I know it to be true in some shape or form. The only thing that holds you back is this notion on our classesââ
âPerhaps I am interested in you,â (Y/N) cut him off. âPerhaps I wish to be courted by you, attend balls and dress in pretty gowns, drinking expensive drinks and whispering sweet nothings. But that is all that it isâa wish. I know my place in this world, it is a right shame you have such a fantasy about yours.â
â(Y/N)âŠâ
âNo,â she stood up, brushing the blades of grass and leaves off of her skirt. âI hoped that you would understand, Benedict. I agreed to this afternoon because it felt like I had no choice in the matterâyou practically bought my time, after all. What I did not expect,â she hiccuped, âI did not expect that I would enjoy such an afternoon.â
âYou enjoyed yourself,â Benedict rose to his feet, desperate to match her gaze head on. âWhy can you not allow yourself to have that joy? Allow your heart to follow its call?â
âI do not have such liberties to listen to my heart,â (Y/N) said softly. âI must use my head for every choice I make. An afternoon with you allowed my family to have enough money to make it through the end of the season without going hungryââ
âAnd an afternoon with me has brought such happiness to fill your soul for much longerââ
âHappiness has little importance,â she scoffed. âI would rather see my family healthy and surviving than even think about a notion like happiness or joy.â
âYou have said yourself that your family treats you like a pet,â Benedict took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He neednât explode in the park. âWhy do you care so much about them if they care so little for you?â
âBecause it is all that I know!â The candle had finally reached its end, burning out with a sizzle. âAll I have ever known is my life in the bakery, rising early to make the dough, peddling samples to those walking by and hopingâprayingâthat they step in our store and purchase something. Because a sale of a few loaves of bread or cakes meant we could afford to buy vegetables for a soup, something to eat with our days old bread.â
âIf you were with me, you wouldnât ever need to think about things like that again,â Benedict said, his voice wavering on a whisper. âI could support you, support your family.â
âAnd that is precisely why I do not wish to continue this,â she raised her finger. âI do not need an affluent man to come and save meââ
âBut I could helpââ
âI do not need your help!â
âYou obviously do!â
She took a step back, the tears from before finally reappearing in her eyes. âO-obviously? Because I am of a lower class you believe, in that giant and empty head of yours, that you can simply win my favor by saving me? Offering riches and experiences that I should be grateful and thanking every God that will listen that you are even willing to give me?â
âYou know that is not what I meantââÂ
âYou believe that because you are who you are, and I am who I am, that I couldnât possibly say no to you,â her gaze flicked with anger, a fire looming. âWhile the ladies of the ton have their choices, I do not, so it makes it easy for you to pine over someone who simply has no choice in the matter.â
âNoâ(Y/N)ââ Â
âThis afternoon has been lovely,â (Y/N) spat, looking to the skylineâthe sun had finally set, âbut I am afraid that the afternoon is over. I shall be taking my leave.â
âPlease reconsider,â Benedict begged, willing to try anything to get her to stay. âI wish to know you.â
âA shame, then,â (Y/N) said, turning around. âWishing for something so foolish.â
â
âHer head is in the clouds,â Jack whispered.
âNo, I reckon her head is in the dough,â Harry mumbled back to his brother.Â
âI can hear you, you know,â (Y/N) ground out, working hard on a rather unruly clump of dough that simply would not cooperate. âAnd if I can hear you, you are close enough to be helping.â
âBut that is so exhausting," Harry groaned, leaning against the countertop. âBesides, how are you ever going to impress your betrothed if you do not keep such toned arms?â
She threw the dough against the counterâhard. âHe is not my betrothed.â
âBut you wish for him to be, no?â Jack giggled, playing with a few burnt bunsâa mishap of his own creation.
âI say, Sister,â Harry said. âWhy do you not pursue that Bridgerton? He clearly is interested in you, or, have you forgotten all of the flowers he has sent?â
The front of the shop was practically a floristâs dreamâcovering every free inch of counter space with beautiful bouquets. Her mother simply refused to throw out such lovely blooms, even going so far as to fish the first one out of the trash after her daughter made quick work to dispose of it. âHow could I possibly forget about the man who continuously flaunts his wealth to get what he wants?â
âHe wants you, surely that is not lost on you?â
âOf course not,â she continued to knead, a few hairs falling into her face. âBut he is so insistent on getting me to agree to his whims simply becauseââ
âHe has money, (Y/N),â Jack scoffed. âGood money. Christ, you spent half of a day with him a few weeks ago and we were able to finally purchase meat for dinner. Imagine if you married himââ
âSo you want your sister to be married off for your own financial gain?â
âWhat else would you marry for?â Harry laughed. âLove?â
She stopped kneading. âWhy do you not go and try to marry a wealthy lady, then? Hm? Surely a woman of genteel breeding would be much taken by the idea of a rugged bakerââ
âThat Bridgerton is already interested,â Harry shrugged. âAt the very least, if you end up with child he would provide enough fundsââ
âFirst you wish to marry me off, now you wish for me to have his bastard?â She couldnât help but laugh, ignoring her hard work on the counter. âWhy can I not make my own choice? I do not wish to be with Mr. Bridgerton, I wish to stay here at the bakery.â
âFucking stupid,â Jack scoffed. âIf I were in your shoes, I would let the gentleman pay for anything my heart desiresâforget about this wretched place and move on with my life.â
âAnd abandon our legacy?â
âYou mean my legacy,â Jack corrected. âI am to inherit the bakery, it is my birthright. You? I suppose I will allow you to continue your grunt work hereââÂ
âWho else will do the baking?â Her voice rang throughout the kitchen. âMother and Father are nearing the end of their career, both becoming too frail to continue with the rigorous task of this place. I am the only oneâthe only competent member of this family who can keep this shit afloat! And you want me to just⊠give that up?â
Jack stood a little straighter. âIt was never your place.â
âHarry is set to inherit the bakery now, you know it. Yet someone had to fill the shoes of the family fuck-up instead, no?âÂ
It was a sharp pain, suddenly and all at once against her cheek. It took her only half a second later to realize what had happened, her other brotherâs face was only a confirmation on the fact.
âJack, what the hell?!â Harry practically screamed. âYou hit her?â
âShe insulted me!â
âYou deserved it,â Harry said, pushing his older brother back. âShe only spoke the truthââ
âSo I am allowed to be walked over by my baby sister?â Jack scoffed, pushing Harry back. âA woman? No fucking chance, mate.â
Her hand had covered her cheek, already feeling warm to the touch. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright. She had to get out of there, had to forget all about the dough on the counter, forgetting all about the brother who had just smacked her silly. The back door wasnât lockedâno surprise as Jack was the last one to use itâmaking it easy for her to push into the alleyway and into the rain.Â
Rain.Â
Pelting like bullets, the wet drenched her clothing in a mere instant, making it harder to escape. Where had she planned to run anyway? She had nowhere to go, her entire world was contained to the four walls of the bakery, never daring to explore the rest of it, not when her world was already so encompassing, so inviting.Â
In theory, anyway, it seemed.
So, she ran. A mix of running and walking, she kept moving forward. By the time she left her part of town, she knew her brothers would not bother coming for her. The rain alone was a deterrent, even Harry, the one who loved her more, wouldnât dare to brave the elements just to reel his sisterâs whims in.Â
A splotch of purple entered her vision. How long had she been moving? Did she even expect to come here? Did her subconscious send her in this direction for a reason?
She knocked on the bright door before she could find out.
âGood evening, maâam,â a butter said politely. âWhat business do you have?â
âI am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.â
â
His quill had soaked the parchment below with ink, having left the tip upon it for far too long. He had been lost in thought, contemplative, especially the last few weeks. Benedict knew he had hurt her, had insulted her very being, yet he still tried. Every other day heâd send a fresh bouquet to the bakery, a new poem attached to the stems. Perhaps she read them? He knew it was more likely that she burned them, in the ovens or otherwise.Â
At the very least, he knew that the blooms were being displayed at the shop. Hope. That is what it had given him.
âMr. Bridgerton, you have a caller,â a butler knocked, opening his door a crack wider.
âA caller? In this weather?â
âShe seemed rather insistent,â the butler shrugged. âShe is waiting in the drawing roomâI already sent for tea and towels for the lady.â
âA lady is here to see me?â Benedict quirked his brow.
âA Miss. (Y/L/N),â the butler said. âNo calling card, soaked to the bone and she seemed a bit⊠out of sorts.â
Benedict had already risen from his desk, practically pushing past the staff member to reach the stairs. Missing a step or two, he made it to the drawing room and shoved the door open. In the center of the blue room was (Y/N), dripping onto the wooden floor, shaking like a leaf.
â(Y/N)âŠâÂ
âI-I had nowhere else to go,â she began to explain. âI did not even realize I was here until I knocked on the door. It was foolishââ
âNo,â Benedict shook his head, reaching to take her hand in his own. âIt is quite alright. You are more than welcome to be here.â
His hands were warm, or perhaps she was just that cold, making them feel like a fire. âI am so sorry, Benedict.â
âFor what?â He asked genuinely.Â
âEverything?â She offered. âI-I am not sure of what, exactly, but I feel that I need to apologize.â
âYou neednât apologize for anything,â he said. âNot with me, not ever.â
She looked up at the ceiling, afraid to make contact with his blue stare. âI needed to get away. My brother heâJack hit me.â
Benedict froze, his entire body went rigid. âIâll kill him.â
âI suppose I deserved it,â she shrugged, now looking at the ground. âTalking back to him, assuming things that could never beââÂ
âA man has assaulted you,â Benedict squeezed her hand tighter. âBrother or not, he put his hands on you. You did nothing of the sort to deserve such a thing.â
âI donât think I can go back there,â (Y/N) said softly. âPerhaps this was just the moment that gave me clarity. Opened my eyes, so to speak.â
Benedict took a good look at her face, red and splotchy, whether it was from the smack or the tears, he could not tell. âTea is on the way, I shall request a cold compress for your cheekââ
âI do not wish to impose.â
âYou shall wish for nothing here,â Benedict said quietly, firmly. âYou will stay until the rain lets up, or, you provide me with a suggestible plan for your next steps.â
âI cannot go back,â she finally looked up at Benedict. âAs much as I would like to, I simply cannot.â
âIf you do not want to go back, I will support you. If you want to leave town, the country even, I will support you,â he said seriously. âPlease allow me to support you.â
âI could never ask you for thatââ
âYou are not asking, I am offering,â he clarified.Â
âBenedictâŠâ
The rain seemed to lessen, if the pelting against the window had anything to say about it. The noise had dimmed, not as violent as before. âTo know that you are safe, that you are cared for, that is all I care about.â
So, in the center of the blue Bridgerton drawing room, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the floor, she kissed him. It was a sudden thing, pulling him down towards her lips, the contact much quicker than she had expected. He returned the favor in kind, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, kissing her in a way he had yet to truly experience.Â
If his hands were like a fire, his lips were an inferno. Fighting for dominance, it was all encompassing. How had she gone so long without a feeling such as this? The burn was coming from inside, not a superficial one atop her skin as she was quite used to, but this burn, this feeling, she could find herself craving this.Â
âI-I am sorryââ she pulled away.
âNever be sorry,â Benedict shook his head. âNot for that, not ever.â
âI should not have done thatâŠâ
âNo,â he agreed, a chuckle leaving his lips, âbut how exhilarating it felt, regardless.â
His thumb ran lazy circles on her jaw. She leaned into the touch. âI do not know what to do, where to goâŠâ
âBut you cannot stay hereâŠ?â
She smiled sadly. âYou know me scarily well, Benedict.â
He thought for a moment. âSo⊠leave.â
âExcuse me?â
âLeave town, leave the countryââ
âI do not have the means to do such a silly thing.â
âI will pay your way.â
She scoffed, trying to pull out of his embrace. He wouldnât release his grip. âBenedictâŠâ
âI told you, I wish to support you. Emotionally, financially, I want to be there for you,â Benedict said. âEven if we are notâif you do not want to be together romantically, I want to ensure your safety and your health, your well-being. A friend.â
She tried to find the lie in his eyes, in his tone. Coming up empty, she had no excuse to not believe him.Â
âFrance,â he said, as if struck by lightning.
âFrance?â
âI hear only the expert bakers study in FranceâI have no doubts you could go to learn,â he explained. âI could pay for your travel, housing, you name it. Ask for it, and it is yours.â
âI doubt anyone would want to teach a woman, no matter how lovely a thought it might be.â
âI have a cousin,â Benedict explained. âHer and her husband own a cafĂ©âI am quite certain that they would love to hire an expert baker to add to their inventory and menu. You could earn your own income, make your own way. A fresh start.â
âA fresh startâŠâ she repeated. âThat sounds too good to be true.â
âI shall write to her in the morning,â Benedict said, holding her hands again.Â
âAnd youâŠ?â
âI will only come with you if you want me to join,â Benedict said slowly. âI will not trap you. I want your happiness, your freedom.â
She nodded, understanding.
âI think France sounds nice,â she smiled. âWill you write to me?â
âEvery chance I get.â
âEven if you are vexed with me?â
âEspecially if I am vexed with you.â
She kissed his lips again, sweeter and softer than the first time.
âSounds perfect.â
â
A year. An entire year had passed and she couldnât recall a happier time in her life. The only time that something could have rivaled it was a visit to a tea shop followed by a respite by a pondâin handsome company all the while.Â
They kept correspondence, just like they promised. Every week came a new letter, a new story to be told by the poetic Benedict Bridgerton. She tried to rival his words, explaining every detail about France, about her new life, but something was nagging. She missed him. They had grown close over the correspondence, leaving her heart wanting more. But, she knew when she left for France it was to fulfill her dreams, leaving a foolish notion like love on the back burner.
â(Y/N),â Marie, the Bridgerton cousin, called out behind her. âWe are in need of more buns.â
âI just restocked the buns,â (Y/N) giggled, turning to the blonde. âWhat? Has someone mysteriously bought the lot?â
âOui,â Marie said with a jest, heading into the storage room, âperhaps you should go bring more out?â
âYou are in luck, the last batch just finished resting from the oven,â she said, carrying a tray on her shoulder, âI will bring them out with haste.â
âI am sure he will appreciate it.â
(Y/N) faltered, hand already pressed to the door leading to the front shop. A tingle ran through her spine, her heart picking up to a freeing flutter.Â
Could it be?
âYou know, I would buy your entire stock,â the man hummed, looking thoughtfully into the display case, âbut I fear I would be recreating a rather taxing memory for the both of us.â
âBenedict,â she gasped, nearly dropping her tray.Â
âYou look radiant,â he mused, that wicked grin of his breaking on his face. âMuch like the first time I saw youâcovered in flour.â
âI am in my element,â (Y/N) said sweetly, âjust as you would expect.â She had noticed that Marie and her husband were not in the cafĂ©, the sign flipped to close. âYou planned this.â
âDo you insinuate that I bribed my distant cousin to close her cafĂ© to give you the day off, travel all the way to France, hoping I could spend the day with you?â Benedict scoffed playfully. âYou truly do not know me at all.â
âI do not think Marie would take a bribe,â (Y/N) said slyly, knowing how much of a champion the cousin had been for the baker and viscountâs son to get together.
âShe refused payment,â he admitted, agreeing with her notion. âBut, was ever eager to see you get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself.â
âYou hadnât written to me in two weeks,â (Y/N) said, walking around the counter. âI was worried.â
âI needed to refrain from our correspondence, I fear I would have let the surprise slip otherwise.â
âSmart man,â she hummed.
âI am known to be smart occasionally,â he shrugged.
âWhat are you doing here?â She finally asked. âN-not that I am not happy to see you, of course, but as you had said, this is a surprise.â
âI came to study art,â Benedict said, a hand in his coat pocket. âI felt that if I truly wanted to learn the craft, I needed to learn from the mastersâmany of their works are housed here in France. I even began to rent a little home in town, finding the need to stay a while.â
âThat is the only reason?â
Benedictâs gaze softened. âOf course it is not the only reason.â
Her heart fluttered again.
âIt is only fair that I try this again, correctly and without the prying eyes of society, this time,â Benedict said, clearing his throat and spinning around.
âCorrectly?â She giggled, watching him twirl to face the door.
âAh, good morning miss!â Benedict said, turning back to face (Y/N). âI must say, you look ever-so-prettyâtell me, do all bakers have a beauty such as your own?â
âI would wager no,â she said, trying to keep serious. âMost of the bakers around here are men.â
âShame. Might I learn your name? It seems only fairâI fear I might just die if I do not know the sweet sound of it.â
â(Y/N),â she sang. âMy name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).â
âBenedict Bridgerton,â he stretched out his hand, reaching for her own. She allowed him to take it, a soft kiss was placed on the back of her cracked handâa working hand, one that she was proud to have.Â
âYou are very charming, Mr. Bridgerton,â she hummed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. âPleased to make your company.â
âI assure you, I am more pleased to be in yours,â Benedict insisted, kissing her hand again. âTell me, do you have plans this afternoon?â
âIt seems my schedule has cleared up,â she looked to the sign on the door and sighed. âWhy? Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend it?â
âMight we take a turn around the park? A friend of mine has written to me about just how lovely one nearby is, I reckon I would like to see it for myself.â
She smiled brightly at him, as if he held the world in his hands. Instead, he held two leaves between his fingersâbrown and cracked, but clearly treated with such care. They had been the same ones from their time at the park the first go around, she was nearly certain. Why else would he bring dead leaves with him?
"Leaves?"
"You see, my family, we have this tradition of racing with leavesâI would very much like to share it with you. These two in particular seem to be very lucky, thought it would be best to bring them along."
His smile melted her heart, endearing and thoughtful in the same breath. She could get used to a smile like that.
âWell⊠what are we waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?â
#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagines#this is a doozy and i am sorry#but only a little bit!!!
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Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?
They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?
And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?
Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.
Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.
He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.
But it's not.
His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".
......guys?
His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.
*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*
Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.
And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?
Are DIFFERENT.
They're all of um!
It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.
There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.
Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!
No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!
Sad. We miss it.
But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?
Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!
Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?
Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*
Clearly a demon!
He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.
Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.
Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)
Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.
People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.
Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!
Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.
So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.
Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.
He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.
Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.
@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes
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apologies, i'm still angry abt TUA S4
so, if we take out all of the blatant issues with the season (character assassination, 'resolutions' that create more plotholes than they solve, rushed scenes that make no sense, side plots that go nowhere, raymond vanishing for no reason, etc etc), what are we left with? let's see:
fatphobia (multiple jokes made about 'chubby Diego', when David just looks hydrated and healthy)
SA played for jokes (it's clear that Klaus having sex while possessed is supposed to be funny, but he's being held hostage and forced to do this for money, when we already know he didn't even want his powers back??)
cheating
problematic / borderline problematic age gaps (either way you spin it, either Five is physically 20-26 while Lila is likely mid 40s, or Five is mentally 70s while Lila is mid 40s; Aidan was 19 while filming, and Ritu was 34)
waiting for the actor to come of age before introducing a romance (we already know what some fans can be like over Five/Aidan, this will not have helped; I would be horrified if I found out the show runners had planned a romance arc with a coworked 15 years older than me and then waited for me to turn legal age to execute it)
sexism (i was reluctant to call it that but i also don't know what else to call it - Lila basically had her agency stripped away to become the love interest two men fought over; Steve wanted Five to have a romance and didn't care who with - use Lila simply because she was there)
complete disregard of character trauma (Klaus being buried alive despite it having been mentioned in every prior season that he was locked in a mausoleum by Reginald, including literally being left to die)
possible overstepping of an actor's boundaries (i've not been able to verify this, but i've seen it said that robert sheehan has requested not to do sex scenes?) (still havent been able to prove this; wasn't an issue with other roles so... hesitant to leave it)
actors requests being ignored (David asked multiple times if the Lila cheating sideplot was required, but clearly it went ahead anyway)
bad cgi
that awful vomit montage
Reginald (im not quite calling it abuse forgiveness but uh. it's not far off tbh)
i don't even know what to call this, but basically told the Hargreeves the abuse they suffered was their fault because they shouldn't even exist??
what did i miss? (im sure there's something)
from the replies:
the song in the ep3 dance scene uses a slur for romani people (and is also about a man and an underage girl)
SA dismissal (it's literally never addressed that Allison SA'd Luther last season. like, at all. everything's just a-okay now!)
more sexism (Allison's arc was also reduced to serving men; there's a single line to explain that Ray left, with no mention of why (i could go OFF about this but this post isn't supposed to be about mishandling of characters); even after everything, all her bonding with Claire comes through Klaus's storyline. also, Sloane is just gone and nobody gives a shit - Luther has one line and that's it??)
so many issues with consent (all of the girls shown in the place Klaus works look drugged / Klaus doesn't want to be there and doing any of that, it's all against his wishes / they all get their powers back against their wishes - although they do tell Ben that wasn't his choice to make / Klaus gets his powers back against his will when Allison is pressured to do it to save his life)
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