#it is. really fucking important to me that L never figures it out in canon actually.

[kiyomitakada]

impromptu meta at 2 — oh wait 1 in the morning thank you daylight saving time

the thing about light yagami is that we all know he is repression incarnate. and we also know that kira was born out of his desperate need to justify sort-of-accidentally killing two people. and so therefore kira isn't what light's repressing, not at the outset; kira is an extension of his repression.

and the death note and his need to hide it very quickly takes over light's life. so it's easy to say that light is light yagami on the outside and kira on the inside, and maybe light feels that way. but. kira is just as much a persona as light yagami. a more hidden persona, but still not the real him, whoever that is.

and the thing is that no one sees past that. ever. most people obviously fall for the charming boy act, but even the detectives — L, near, mello — god, even ryuk stops at part two. i think a lot about how L set up the mock execution because he thought that kira would have killed his own father if necessary. can you see light doing that? eighteen-year-old light yagami who said "if anything happens to you, dad — i'll see that kira gets the death penalty. i swear it."? remember when ryuk laughs at how good an actor he is afterwards and light doesn't look at him?

light never thinks kira is evil. even in yotsuba arc he acknowledges that they think very similarly, just that kira has gone too far. (ha, ha.) for all of death note light yagami is light yagami, who says if kira wins then kira is good, who has convinced himself he is doing the right thing. he gets frustrated when other people don't perceive him the same way — lind l tailor, misa killing police chiefs while pretending to be kira — but the anger has nowhere to go other than murdering more people.

light yagami is kira is light yagami. but L, ryuk, everyone doesn't manage to see through kira in the end.

and after L dies, well. no one will ever measure up to L, in light's eyes. he almost idolizes him in the weirdest way possible. so maybe, he thinks, if the only person in the world who could ever possibly see all of him (this isn't true, it's just what light believes) thought he was just a murderer, then maybe —

i think he hollows himself out in the second arc. in the anime he seriously considers killing sayu; in the manga he never does that but justifies his unwillingness to himself by saying that this way soichiro and light won't come under suspicion (they weren't going to in the first place). light doesn't really have a sense of self. L said he was evil and of course L is wrong — was wrong — will always be wrong — but isn't it easy to play into that stereotypically evil image of himself? especially after soichiro, his last moral compass, dies: isn't it easy to nullify misa's memories, to say she's not intelligent enough to be my partner, to kill kiyomi in the most painful way possible?

("light would have done the same things in the first arc!" sure. but not with that much callousness.)

it's just. it's tragic, you know? light has always pretended to be nicer than he is but he isn't the cold any-means-necessary person they thought kira was either. he is constantly playing someone he thinks he is but he can never escape being light, in the end.

does this make any sense do i sound insane

[applestorms]

i love near so goddamn much. i finally read the c-kira and a-kira post-canon one shots all the way through last night and AAAAAAAAA my heart. nate river 🫵🫵🫵

c-kira in particular hits me hard bc you can really see that he's still reeling from the events of the main story. it’s a very specific era of near that’s so horribly awkward and insecure about his place in the world, about his role as L, and has so very few people left behind to support him-- really just lidner, rester, and gevanni. so much of that story is about near struggling to figure out who he is and who he wants to be in the wake of Everything, scrambling around in the shadows of all these false gods and blown up egos, trying to grow up and be a Person in the smoking remains of all these people who killed themselves with their own hubris. i mean, just look at this page:

LOOK AT THIS. near is almost shockingly expressive in this story, his grief and regret is fucking Palpable in a way that you very rarely see with a guy like him. it really gets to me that this is the story where near actually opens up about his mixed feelings surrounding the original L, about the interview he held where he picked near & mello out to be his two successors, and all while hiding himself within these massive card towers that you only see to be these giant L's at the end-- a kid barely out of his teens already getting dwarfed by the enormity of the history he is expected to continue and represent. the winner of the game who's only prize is the legacy he now holds on his shoulders, the grief he is cursed with as the only one left behind. this kid barely has anyone now, never even got the chance to truly, fully know what he lost in the first place, these all-powerful figures that have dictated every inch of his life from the moment he stepped foot in that damn house.

and i mean, goodness. what did we expect? i can talk all i want about the cinematic parallels of light & L as opposites, but look at near & mello in literally every piece of official art-- near truly loses his other half when mello dies, and you can just Feel the discomfort, the deep-seated, underlying imbalance in his soul through this shit.

a-kira near, on the other hand, has had the time to grow a bit more at ease with himself, but he still gets to me in a slightly different way. i cannot emphasize enough how utterly fucking perfect the decision to make his hair longer is-- for so simple of a detail, it really sums up so much about his character. this version of an older near feels like a guy who's been stuck outside of time for ages, barely even noticing the constant shifts of the outer world as he holes himself up in his room, hardly aware of the way that his own body stretches and grows and changes with each passing day. doing his job, all just for a bit of entertainment. there is still that distinctly privileged, childish part of him that hides in his forts of toys and makes whatever demands he pleases, but it's more smoothed over, more exhausted, more Done.

he's packed away the grief by this point. dealt with it properly? not necessarily. but the wound isn't as raw now so he can set it aside to be ignored or looked over more easily, focus on the things that he wants to. blow up his toys when they don't meet his standards.

i strikes me as important that near's view on the new kira's shifts so much over the course of even just these two little stories. in the c-kira story, near is so Quick to shit on the new guy as fast as possible, literally snarking him into submission with the fear of his presence alone until he writes his own name down. we never see this "cheap" kira, this pathetic fake that couldn't possibly stand up to the original. (projecting a little there, nate?) he's barely more than a panel or two of hands, and then he disappears from the story forever.

in a-kira though, you get something a little more desperate, a little more hungry-- near really fucking wants to meet this new guy, purely for the sake of talking to him, and is a lot quicker to respect him & the depth of how well he's thought through this plan. at first it seems like he's intrigued by the idea of finally finding yet another equal, someone to match his freak after years of standing on his own, and knowing DN you're inclined to trust that the mind games will eventually happen. but, in the end...

he loses. and doesn't he seem so happy about it?

minoru really is the perfect match for near in a way-- a new, passive kira, uninterested in the bullshittery of killing and shinigami and evil murder diaries, to reflect and match the tired, new L who was done with his job before he even started doing it. RIP minoru dying due to shinigami bullshit, but i'm genuinely happy that this is the ending near gets, the chance to finally lose at something without having to pay the price of human lives for it. winning has almost never been a truly positive thing for near-- his winning wammy's house only gave him the many pressures & stresses of a job as L, his winning against light only gave him a dead mello and a notebook to quietly burn, hell, all of this shit happening at all is what made mello resent him so much in the first place.

but now he can lose. and i think he's all the better for it.

near is immature, yes, he bossy and snarky and blows up his toys without giving a fuck what anyone else has to say-- but he doesn't get ahead of himself in the way that light and L and the others did, a trait which ultimately lets him win but also leaves him behind to shoulder the grief of a generation. but now he can lose, he can let the fate of the world fall of his shoulders for just a moment, and everything is still going to be okay. it's good to see him getting older. it's good to see that you can still move on and grow, even when it seems like the legacies of the past are locking you away in a cage. i'm glad these manga exist, and i'm glad near can still make it out alive.

[steddieasitgoes]

you can call me boyfriend for the weekend

I posted this earlier as a link to ao3 but I know some people like to read things straight on tumblr so this is for you people lol As noted, this was supposed to be a short little ficlet inspired by unfortunate "Black Out Wednesday"/hook up with someone in your hometown pre-Thanksgiving ritual and then Steve got a backstory and Eddie wanted a POV and it spiraled out of control like most of my work lol Also I wrote this all in twelve hours and it's not beta read at all lol but enjoy! And please ignore the wonky timeline. It's canon-divergent/no Upside Down. But basically in my head, all the normal things that happened to Steve/Eddie still happened in this universe and they got close during the Autumn months of 1986. I think that's all you need to know! wc: 8.8k | rated: M Read on ao3

The Hideout is unusually packed.

In hindsight, Steve should have figured as much. It’s not like he’s the only former resident in town who needs a shot or two (okay, maybe three, but who’s really counting other than the barkeep logging everyone’s tabs) of liquid courage before heading home to spend a few days with family. The overflowing parking lot and illegally double and triple-parked cars on the street are still a sight to see when he steps out of the Yellow Taxi.

Maybe he should have taken the cute stewardess up on the alcohol offer on the plane. Would have saved him a couple of bucks that’s for damn sure. Still, every time he was about to, Robin’s nagging voice would pop into his head, spewing one of her nonsense rambles about the importance of being fully coherent on an airplane, lest they have to land the plane as if he’d have the skills to land a plane in the first place. And yet, he remained stone-cold sober on the couple-hour flight into Indianapolis from Boston just in case.

Sure, there’s liquor at his parent's house — at least, he hopes they haven’t packed up the dry bar if they did, he’s really fucked this weekend — but he needs something now to keep the anxiety bubbling in his chest at bay. And last time he checked The Hideout is the only place within a twenty-mile radius that can serve up a quick, cheap drink. Plus, there’s the fact that the Yellow Taxi he took here from the airport has already disappeared into the night, and he’s not about to go inside to call another cab without buying something; that would be rude.

In yet another surprising twist, that shouldn’t be surprising given the parking situation; there’s a small line of people waiting to get in. In the nineteen and a half years he spent in Hawkins, Steve’s never seen a line in front of The Hideaway. He knows for a fact that the place never had a bouncer, much less one who meticulously cards everyone who walks in.

Well, everyone but him it seems.

Steve doesn’t even get his wallet open, much less out of his pocket, before the man is wrapping a bright orange ’21 and over’ wristband on his wrist. Which, like, ouch. He knows he just got off a flight after working a half-day shift at the stupid office, but he can’t look that much like an adult. Can he?

Thankfully, there’s no time to dwell on his fleeting youth as he’s pushed into the crowded bar with the rest of the customers who patiently waited their turn in the frigid Indiana November evening.

The familiar scent hits him the second he’s more than three steps through the opened doors — stale beer, nicotine, the undeniable musk bodies emit when they’re dancing and, well, horny. But there’s also something new going on, too. Crisp leather, a piney scene that can only be associated with floor cleaner, and something minty, peppermint, he thinks, maybe for the upcoming holidays. Gone is the stench of piss that no amount of power washing the concrete floors could ever scrub up. Steve notices the concrete floor is gone, too, apparently, as his shoes squeak against the shiny black laminate.

There are a few new booths from the looks of things, and the stage has gotten a major upgrade since the last time he was here to see… He shakes the thought from his head and keeps walking until he finds an open spot in the corner of the bar.

A bartender materializes the second his ass makes contact with the new vinyl seat. She looks vaguely familiar, too young to be in his class, but maybe someone from Henderson’s year. He figures he’ll be downing glasses of expensive wine when he finally musters up the courage to go home, so he orders a shot of tequila and a rum and coke in the meantime. She pours the shot right there, excusing herself to grab the rum bottle from one of the other bartenders working tonight.

He grimaces as he shoots it back, tequila burning his throat as it goes down before he sucks the sliver of lime between his lips. It’s impossible for the effects to kick in this fast, but he already feels the tension easing from his shoulders. He uses the reprieve from his anxiety to really take everything in. The Hideout may have gotten some major upgrades, but he can’t say the same about its patrons.

It’s a real who’s who of Hawkins High has-beens. Andy and a couple of younger guys he remembers playing ball with his junior year of high school, all wearing their Greek letter crewnecks, downing beers and slapping each other on the back. Jason’s in the center with his arm around a stereotypical-looking blonde who is clearly not from around here. Heather Holloway is unmistakable, pressed into a booth arguing with some guy Steve thinks was on their swim team while their three kids jump around unchecked. And is that Chrissy Cunningham with… Gareth? That nerd from Dustin’s D&D group? Steve makes a mental note to bring it up with Dustin when the little shit calls him next because holy shit.

It takes him a minute to spot Tommy and Carol, but once he does, he doesn’t know how he didn’t see them sooner. They’re pressed up against each other, practically dry-humping in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. Tommy’s got his tongue shoved down Carol’s throat, and her hand is fisted into his buttoned shirt that’s definitely a size too small. 

Somethings never change, he thinks, rolling his eyes as the pair stumble their way towards the bathrooms at the opposite end of the bar.

Steve’s about to turn back around and disappear into the shadowy corner he’s found himself in when the static feedback of the seemingly brand-new speakers goes off, sending every patron in the bar covering their ears.

“Sorry! Sorry!” A man calls from the makeshift sound booth a few yards away from Steve. “Give it another go for me?”

“Check one, check one, two. Sounds great, Frank. We’re all set up here if you are,” a woman says from the stage. Steve figures she gets a non-verbal cue from Dave because then she’s talking again, her voice bright and way louder than it needs to be. The giggle that comes next is even worse. “Hi everyone! Lots of familiar faces in the crowd tonight.”

It takes his eyes a minute to adjust to the bright spotlight illuminating the stage, but when it does, he nearly falls out of his seat. Is that?

“Anyways, I’m Tammy, and these are the Townies, and we’re Tammy and the Townies!”

Holy shit! It’s Tammy Thompson. The Tammy Thompson. Robin is going to be so pissed when he calls and tells her about this tomorrow morning. She’ll probably say that he was just seeing things, blame it on the single shot of tequila he’s had since he’s still waiting for his drink, but he knows the truth. Especially when Tammy launches into the opening lines of “Santa Baby,” trying her best to be sultry but still sounding like a rejected Muppet.

Someone chuckles behind Steve, before an all too familiar voice says, “I haven’t heard that one before.”

His first thought is: Shit, did he say that out loud?

And then comes something even worse: Wait, I know that voice.

All the anxiety the shot of tequila chased off comes surging back to Steve, swirling in his gut, threatening to creep up his throat and out his mouth. No. He’s not going to throw up in The Hideout after one shot, not with the entirety of his high school class in attendance. And definitely not in front of Eddie Munson.

There’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that it's anyone but Eddie Munson standing behind him and the bar. He would know that voice and chuckle anywhere, could pick it out in a line-up if he had to after the fall of 1985 when they— nope, not going there.

The way he sees it, he has two options. One, get the hell out of here without turning around. It’s dark in the corner, so there’s a chance Eddie hasn’t realized who he’s talking to yet; in fact, Steve’s pretty sure if Eddie knew who he just spoke to, he never would have opened his mouth to begin with. So, yeah, he could get the hell out of here, maybe leave a couple of bucks at the opposite end of the bar on the way out so he’s not drinking and ditching, and then hail a cab and head to his childhood house.

Or, he could woman the fuck up, as Robin would say, turn around and meet the gaze of a man he hasn’t seen since he was nineteen, confused and desperate to make something out of himself.

He weighs the cons: spend a few extra hours with his parents or face Eddie Munson, the only person other than Robin to ever see him. The real him.

The answer is easy.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie says, sizing Steve up with those big doe eyes of his the second Steve turns in his chair. “If it isn’t Steve Harrington in the flesh. What the hell are you doing around these parts? Thought you left to go make daddy dearest proud?”

Ouch.

Steve should have expected Eddie not to mince words, even if he is a paying customer and all. He doesn’t allow himself to get a good look at Eddie, meeting him with his own mean-spirited retort instead.

“Guess I should have known you’d still be around, Munson,” Steve snarks. Eddie wants to play? Steve’ll gladly participate. “Still flunking out of high school?”

“Now that one I have heard before.”

Eddie doesn’t stick around for a response. He slams Steve’s rum and coke on the bar counter and gives it a rough shove. The glass slides across the sleek countertop before crashing into Steve’s awaiting hand. The drink sloshes in the cup, a few droplets spilling out, but Steve doesn’t have the energy to wave Eddie down and demand a replacement, so he shuts up and brings the now half-empty glass to his lips. He takes a much-needed gulp and then another, alcohol going down better than the shot from earlier, dulling the regret from his mean-spirited retort with it. He sulks for a moment before letting his eyes drift behind the bar. Searching.

If The Hideout is crowded, the bar is just as congested. At least four bartenders shimmy around each other. Hands reaching for various bottles, glasses clinking as ice falls in. It’s the most people Steve’s ever seen behind the small bar top, and he’s willing to bet it’s more than they’re legally allowed.

Fire code and all that.

Not that he knows much about that.

Not yet, at least.

He will once he starts his Fire Academy classes in the new year.

That is, assuming his dad doesn’t kill him the minute he finds out about his career change.

That’s a problem for tomorrow, Steve thinks, shaking the thought away and chasing it further by draining the rest of his drink.

“Can I getcha’ another round?” The young bartender asks, reappearing like a damn bar fairy.

Steve’s not sure he’s fully thought his order out, too preoccupied stealing glances at Eddie, but his lips start moving anyway, words escaping before he has a chance to stop them, “Actually, can I get a Vodka Party Punch with pickle juice instead of pineapple.”

“Pickle juice? Are you sure?”

Shit.

No.

Yes.

Steve quietly contemplates changing his unusual order, tilting his empty rum and coke glass to his lips, desperate for another teaspoon of liquid courage. He’s met with the cool sensation of ice hitting his teeth instead. Another not-so-subtle sneak at Eddie, and Steve doubles down. “Yeah. Eddie should know how to make it.”

“Oh, uh, ” the bartender says, nervously glancing to her right.

Steve follows her line of vision, giving himself permission to do more than glance this time, and finds Eddie on the opposite end tossing around bottles and the shaker like he’s fucking Tom Cruise in Cocktails and not a super-senior who half the town was convinced was a Satanist.

“Let me see what I can do for you.”

Steve gives her his best customer service smile and a quick nod before watching her shuffle through the other bartenders on her quest to get to Eddie.

He lets his eyes linger as Eddie finally doles out the drink he’s been working on. Five years and some change has been good on him. His hair is still as unruly as ever, twisted back in a low bun at the base of his neck. Tending to the bar has clearly served his arms well judging by the tone biceps peaking out from under his black shirt. It’s done wonders for his entire body, if Steve’s honest, sizing up the way he finally fills out his jeans.

Eddie turns just so, new piercings catching in the reflection of the spotlight from the stage. Steve catalogs them, a few new ones to his ears, a hoop in his left nostril. There’s new ink, too, decorating his strong forearms and peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

Steve’s attraction to Eddie isn’t a surprise, especially after the Fall of ‘86. But it’s like a match has just ignited a new flame in the depths of his body. He looks good, is all. Really, really good.

Steve’s pulled from his not-so-subtle ogling when the young bartender finally gets Eddie’s attention. He can’t hear the conversation, but he spent enough time around Eddie to know what the man is saying without even looking at his lips. Her back is to him, but Steve knows the minute he brings up the drink because Eddie’s body goes stiff, his head jolting toward Steve, eyes growing wide as he glares at him from the opposite end of the bar.

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s truly fucked up. Well, more than he did five and a half years ago when he let his dad convince him to set him up with a job in Boston that forced him to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, least of all Eddie. But then he sees the moment Eddie’s stubbornness sets in, clouding his eyes and forcing his chunky boots to stomp through the hoard of sweaty bartenders.

“Did you come all the way home to fuck with me?” Eddie barks, still a foot and a half away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit, Harrington,” Eddie snaps, hands smacking onto the countertop.

When Steve doesn’t say anything, Eddie rages on. If it wasn’t for Tammy Thompson’s wailing in the background, Steve’s pretty sure they’d have everyone’s attention right now. Thank God for Tammy Thompson.

“Seriously? Pickle juice!”

Steve’s hit with the familiar woodsy, nicotine smell he spent months chasing around town as Eddie drops to his elbows, leaning in closer to Steve. For a second, he thinks Eddie is going to deck him, at the very least fist his hand into his shirt and yank him forward, but he doesn’t.

“I know damn well you’re not ordering Vodka Party Punch with fucking pickle juice at the fancy bars wherever you ended up. What makes you think you can order one here now?”

“You’re right, I don’t order them in Boston,” Steve says, answering the question Eddie really didn’t ask. “But I’m ordering it now because you’re the creator of the drink, and I know you’ll make it taste right.”

Steve watches Eddie’s jaw drop. The bar is dimly lit but it doesn’t take florescent lights to catch the red tinting the tips of Eddie’s ears, fully exposed with his hair pulled back in a bun. It’s been a minute since Steve attempted this game with anyone, but Eddie’s always been a fun participant — especially when he’s pretending he doesn’t like it.

“I’m charging you double,” Eddie concedes, twirling the giant skull ring still perched on his finger.

“Better make it worth my dime, Munson.”

“You know I always do, Harrington,” Eddie taunts, clearly finding his footing in this flirtatious sparing match they’ve started. 

* * *

By the time Eddie returns with his drink, Tammy and the Townsies have wrapped up their set for the night — thank god — and The Hideout slowly starts to empty out. With a few less bodies occupying the actual bar, Eddie has no problem sticking around, tossing his dish rag over his shoulder as he slides the Vodka Party Punch with pickle juice over to Steve, much gentler this time.

The drink smells exactly like he remembers, but the presentation has improved since their days of mixing them in the Munson’s crowded kitchen. A mini pickle is skewered through a toothpick as garnish, and the glass is tall and clean, a rarity in the mug-infested kitchen of that autumn.

Steve makes a show of his first sip, slowly raising the glass to his mouth without breaking eye contact with Eddie as he licks his lips in anticipation. Eddie’s eyes dilate the second Steve’s tongue makes an appearance, and it takes everything in Steve not to jump across the bar and shove it down Eddie’s throat a la Carol and Tommy style. He knows the Eddie from five autumns ago wouldn’t mind, but this Eddie might.

He does the next best thing instead, taking a slow sip of the drink, exaggerating when he swallows before punctuating the first taste with a low moan of approval. Judging by the smattering of pink moving to Eddie’s cheeks, it works.

“Delicious, just like I remembered.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. He knows it the minute the words leave his lips, and the flush on Eddie’s cheeks drains to a ghostly white , eyes turning to fire.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that,” Eddie scoffs, snapping his dish towel off his shoulder to wipe the counter.

“I just, I—“ Steve groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. Leave it to him to be back in Hawkins for less than three hours and already fuck things up. “Thank you,” he finally says, eyes trained on his drink. “You didn’t have to make it, and you did, so thanks.”

“Whatever customers want, they get here at The Hideout.”

Steve can’t help but snort, “S’that a new motto?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

When Steve glances up, Eddie’s smiling at him. Not his toothy grin Steve loved to coax out of him, but his lips are definitely quirked into a grin which he’ll take as a win. Small victories and all that.

“That what they pay you the big bucks for? Slinging drinks like Tom Cruise and coming up with new slogans?”

“Something like that.” Eddie finishes wiping down the counter in front of Steve and moves half a step to his right, working on the next area that’s vacated.

Steve thinks that’s it. The beginning and end of their civil conversation, but then Eddie looks across the bar, no doubt taking in the empty state of things, before turning back to look at Steve. Really, look at him.

If it weren’t for the liquor coursing through Steve’s veins, he doesn’t think he’d be able to sit there under Eddie’s gaze. But he does have alcohol on his side, so he stays glued to his seat, his own cheeks heating up as Eddie’s brown eyes roam over his body, taking him in the same way he did with Eddie a while ago.

When he’s done, Eddie cocks his head to the side and tuts. “You’ve seen better days, Harrington. I think your eye bags have eye bags.”“Corporate life’ll do that to you,” Steve grumbles, taking another sour sip from his drink. When Eddie doesn’t throw a dig he knows is on the tip of his tongue, Steve breaks the silence. “You look good behind a bar.” Jesus, maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. “I mean, uh, how long have you been working here.”

Eddie snorts, coming back over until he’s right in front of Steve. He drops to his elbows again, pillowing his chin in his hands as he makes direct eye contact. “About five-ish years ago. Right after I graduated.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I, uh, thought the plan was to get the hell out of here?”

Eddie hums. “It was. Took the job to save money so I could do just that.”

“And you ended up loving it?”

“Hated it at first, actually, but you know we’re not all lucky enough to be able to get the hell out of Hawkins just because people tell us we should,” Eddie says, eyes boring judgment into Steve’s own. “Figured if I have to stick around I might as well try and make it better for those of us still here.”

“That’s what you’re doing, then?” Steve asks, generally curious. He always knew Eddie had a savior complex, saw it firsthand when Dustin and the rest of the kids started high school, and immediately got swept up in Eddie’s inner circle of outcasts. “Making Hawkins better?”

“Trying to,” Eddie says, and Steve can feel the walls around him shrinking, only for them to harden in an instant. “Turns out it’s a lot easier when the assholes flee.”

Steve winces and downs the rest of his drink. When it’s drained, he sets it down and fumbles through his pockets for his wallet. He gets no more than three measly bucks out before Eddie is shooing him away.

“It’s on the house tonight.”

Steve shakes his head, digging back into his wallet “Don’t think your boss’ll be happy about that.

“Good thing m’the boss then.”

Steve gawks. He’s pretty sure his jaw is fully open, but it's worth it to see the pleased look on Eddie’s face. “Shit, seriously?”

“What, you think old Dave was the one to plan the renovation of this place? That cheapskate was slinging water tinted brown with food coloring to the regulars once they got drunk enough not to tell.”

Steve laughs, but doesn’t get distracted with the anecdote like he knows Eddie hopes he will. Eddie Munson might have his heart in his sleep, but if there’s one thing Steve knows about him, it’s that he hates being emotionally vulnerable. Steve can’t say he blames him, but still, he presses on.

“Eddie Munson, CEO of the Hideout. Who would have thought?”

“I don’t know about CEO,” Eddie says, fingers struggling with the elastic holding his hair back. It takes a second for him to get the strands untangled, and when it does, his hair cascades over his shoulder in those same unruly curls Steve tried to tame once or twice. Eddie’s hand immediately finds a strand, twirling it around his fingers and pulling it towards his lips. “Owner as of the first of the year, though.”

“Eds, that’s really fucking cool. Holy shit! Congrats! I feel like we should toast or something.”

If Eddie catches the nickname slip up, he doesn’t mention it. Maybe Robin’s patenting ramble so they can’t comprehend every embarrassing thing you’ve said method actually works.

Instead, he waves him off. “Sounds to me like you’re just trying to get another round of free liquor in you before heading home to the parents.”

“Damn,” Steve says, happy to play along. “Am I that obvious?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but ducks behind the counter for a moment, popping back up with two clean cups. He blindly reaches for a top-shelf whiskey and pours just a bit too much to be considered a shot, but not a full serving either. They clink the glasses together in a silent toast before throwing back the over-poured shot like they’re nineteen and twenty again.

“You know,” Eddie says, closing the distance between them as he leans against the countertop again. “We’re looking for some silent investor, partner types to help out with financing. If you, uh, know anyone who might be interested.”

“Oh,” Steve says, liquor making his brain slower than usual.

Eddie pushes off the bar, shaking his head. “Don’t look too excited, Steve. I was just joking.”

“No, shit, I mean, yeah, I would invest. Love to even,” Steve rambles, desperate to keep Eddie from joining the rest of the bartenders in tallying up their tips. “It’s just, uh, I’m actually getting out of the investment world.”

“You don’t have to lie, Harrington. A simple no will do.”

“I’m serious. Today was actually my last day. I’m enrolled in the Fire Academy come January.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, that toothy grin finally making an appearance. “Way to bury the lede, Stevie! We should be toasting to you! Finally getting out from under your dad’s thumb!”

Unlike Eddie, the nickname isn’t lost on Steve, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Not if he wants to keep Eddie smiling, and dammit he does. It’s the only thing he’s ever really wanted.

“I mean, I still have to break the news to my dad. But yeah, assuming he doesn’t kill me, it’s happening.”

“Hey, Munson,” a bartender he realizes is Jeff calls from the opposite end of the bar. “Get your ass over here and close out so we can go home. Some of us actually want to see our families.”

Eddie flips Jeff off but doesn’t budge from his spot in front of Steve.

“I should probably head out, too,” Steve says, slowly rising from the stool. His legs are full of pins and needles, asleep from sitting so long, but he manages to stay upright.

“Wait,” Eddie says, shouting even though all Steve’s done is duck behind the counter to grab his duffle from the floor. “Did you drive here?”

Steve shakes his head. “Took a cab from the airport, gonna use the payphone out back to call another.”

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says in a rush. “I mean, I can’t let you waste your money on a cab when you’re unemployed now.”

“I’m not unemployed, I’m going to—“

“Fire school, yeah, yeah, I got that,” Eddie says, waving him off. “Just give me two minutes, and I’ll drive you home, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Steve makes a show of sounding inconvenienced, which earns a dramatic eye roll from Eddie and a victory for himself. His streak of pretending not to care actually working lives on another day.

* * *

Seven minutes later, thanks to a mathematical error and a hushed conversation between Jeff and Eddie, Steve finds himself in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. “I can’t believe you still have this thing.”

“How is it any different from you still driving the Beamer?”

“How do you know I still drive the Beamer?”

“Please, the only thing you love more than that car is Buckley. Speaking of, where is your platonic other half?”

“Still in Boston. She got asked to write an article for her grad department’s journal.”

“Ah, so she sent you to the lion’s den all on your own,” Eddie teases, slowing to a stop despite the light still being yellow.

“Figured this was one Harrington vs Harrington battle she didn’t need to bear witness to.”

Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart. “My, my, it seems like us lowly mortals are in the presence of the Great Sir Stevebert tonight.”

Steve can’t help but snort. He’s missed this. The easy teasing, the openness. Eddie and his silly voices and even sillier words. He can’t believe he’s gone almost six years without him.

“So,” Eddie says, drawing out the vowel. “Isn’t Dick going to be extra pissed off that you’re showing up on his doorstep at three in the morning?”

Steve shrugs. “Probably.”

“What time were they expecting you?”

“When are they ever really expecting me?” Steve laughs dryly. “I didn’t really give them a set date. Figured if I told my dad I was flying out today, he’d figure out the whole work thing so I told them I’d try to catch a late flight after I finished for the day and be there by Thanksgiving dinner at the latest.”

“So they don’t know you’re in town.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not unless someone at the unofficial Hawkins High reunion tonight ratted me out.”

“Jesus H. Christ you caught that too?” Eddie shouts, smacking his left hand against the dashboard. “I’ve worked plenty of Wednesdays before Thanksgiving, but none of them have pulled that many of our former classmates out. I don’t know why everyone is back in town this year.”

“Back in town or never left?”

“Hey,” Eddie scolds. “Watch it. Your life is in the hands of a Hawkins townie right now.”

Steve holds his hands up in surrender and is glad to see Eddie grinning at him when he musters the courage to steal a glance. He wishes he could offer a careless smile back, but the closer they get to Loch Nora, the more he feels the anxiety creeping in again. Eddie must sense it, too, because he slows to well below the speed limit.

“I wouldn’t mind having a roommate for the night,” he says nonchalantly. Like Eddie’s talking about the weather and not offering to spend the night in Steve’s presence. Steve, the guy who disappeared on him one day after months of fucking around — literally and figuratively. The same Steve who hasn’t been back to Hawkins because he’s been avoiding this exact situation like the chickenshit he is.

“Wayne probably will, though,” Steve says, trying his best to turn Eddie down without actually turning him down. It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the night with him. Hell, he’d sell his left arm for the chance. The problem is it’ll just be one night, and Steve doesn’t think he has that in him. Not when he wants all the nights.

“Good thing he’s not home.”

“Wait,” Steve says, turning in the passenger seat to look at Eddie. “He left you on Thanksgiving? Isn’t that against your Munson Family Code or whatever?”

Eddie snorts, mumbling something that sounds an awful lot like ‘I can’t believe he remembered that’ under his breath. “I told him it was okay. He’s up in Chicago spending the holiday with Scott Clarke’s family.”

“Scott Clarke? The middle school science teacher?”

Eddie nods.

“I didn’t know they were friends.”

Eddie breaks in the middle of the street, leveling Steve with a look he finds himself receiving from Robin all the time. She says people like them are supposed to know when other people are like them, but so far, Steve has yet to inherit that superpower.

“Oh, shit,” he says, finally. “I didn’t know your uncle was into guys.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie laughs. “It was a real memorable day in the Munson’s house when I found out.”

A comfortable silence falls between them as Eddie eases the van back on the rode. They stay like that for a light or two before Eddie rolls to a stop at a familiar intersection.

“Great Sir Stevebert,” he says, switching into his deep, DM voice. “It seems you have a choice to make. Shall you continue on your travels, taking the golden brick road to the lone castle on the hill, or shall you take the road less traveled and embark on the twisting journey to the Moors?”

Once again, the decision is easy.

“If you really don’t mind,” Steve says instead of a definitive answer.

Eddie whoops and makes the sharp right turn that’ll take them to Forest Hills. “Onward, Sir Stevebert, to the Moors, we go!”

_ _ _

Eddie has no idea what he’s doing. One minute he’s fighting with himself, desperate to keep his attention on the out-of-town in-laws of some Hawkins High alumni in need of a blissful night out before the family shit starts and not on the sulking figure of Steve fucking Harrington on the opposite end of the bar. And the next second, he’s ushering that same Steve up the steps of the Munson trailer like he did so many times before.

Jesus H. Christ.

He should have listened to Jeff. He should have called Steve a cab and paid for it himself if it made him sleep better at night. Hell, he should have kicked Steve out the second he mouthed off to him. But he didn’t. And he couldn’t.

Despite all the bullshit, Steve put him through, despite five whole fucking years without so much as a call, Eddie still has a soft spot for the goddamn fallen King. Time heals many things, but the love he has for Steve isn’t one of them.

Love?

No. Strike that from the record.

Infatuation.

A crush, maybe.

Not love.

Not anymore.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, shaking the thought from his entire body, and moves to unlock the door. He gestures for Steve to enter, and Eddie trails behind, bending down at the entrance to untie his work boots and free his sore feet. He wasn’t lying when he told Steve this is the busiest pre-Thanksgiving shift he’s ever worked. He’s pretty sure his blisters have blisters at this point.

His knees ache at the position, so he lets himself fall back, ass on the worn welcome mat as he finishes the task at hand. It feels nice to get off his feet, and he lets himself linger there for a moment. A hand massaging the ache from the arch of his foot while his eyes drift up, watching Steve asses the trailer much like he did the very first time he found himself in the humble abode.

As nice as it is to get off his feet, the last thing Eddie needs is for Steve to turn around and catch him staring at him from a spot on the floor. With a quiet groan, he hoists himself back into a standing position and dusts his hands off on his jeans.

“Wayne getting rid of his mug collection?” Steve asks, breaking the silence. Eddie follows his pointed finger to the top, empty rack shelf the patterned couch.

“No, just relocated ‘m. He spends most nights at Scott’s house now. I basically own the place. Wayne refuses to let me pay the full rent, though, since it’s his name on the lease.”

Steve lets out a low whistle that doesn’t do anything, Eddie, nothing at all, and turns to face him with a look of mischief in his hazel eyes. “Now, who’s the one with a silver spoon.”

He can’t help but laugh at how absurd that sounds. As if inheriting the trailer is some kind of privilege, but in some ways it is, right?

“It’s no rent-free apartment in a big city, but it’ll do,” he says, trying his best to throw a dig back at Steve, but it doesn’t sting the way he wants it to. If anything, it makes Steve’s lips dip into a frown instead of stroking that familiar petty flame he knows stays lit in his gut.

“Come on,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “You think Dick Harrington pays for my place in Boston? The asshole got me a shit job and told me to figure the rest out. I was lucky Robin was already there when I showed up. Her RA wasn’t too pleased, but we made it work that first year.”

Great, now he’s the asshole.

It’s such a different picture than the one he’s spent the last five years painting in his head. That good ol’ Dick Harrington shipped his only son off, far enough away that the town freak couldn’t continue sinking his teeth (and dick) into him without him knowing about it. Set him up with a good job and a nice place to sleep at night that left Steve no choice but to stay even though he knew that’s not what Steve wanted. Never was.

But that’s not the story, is it?

The real story is that Dick Harrington is an even bigger prick than he thought, and Steve is a coward. Eddie can understand Steve staying away if his dad made his new life nice for him and kept him comfortable and just shy of miserable, but he didn’t. And yet, Steve stayed in a job he hated, in a dorm he had no business crashing in because Daddy Dearest told him to do it.

A part of Eddie wants to ask why. Wants to dig his grimy finger into the still-fresh wound in Steve’s chest, judging by the grimace on his face, and get to the bottom of what the hell his dad has over him to keep in line. But what good would it do, really?

Eddie opts for a different strategy instead.

“Why now?”

Steve cocks his head, brows knitting together in that cute confused face Eddie used to love coaxing out of him with a single nerdy phrase back in the day. “Why now what?”

Eddie sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. He could change the subject, shrug off his question, and steer the conversation into calmer waters to get them through the night. But that wouldn’t be fair to him or Steve. Not in the long run.

“It’s been five years since you’ve been in town, Steve,” Eddie says blankly. “Why now?”

“My parents are selling the place,” he answers, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Said they wanted one last family Thanksgiving in the place before it’s not ours anymore. It’s bullshit if you ask me. I can’t remember the last time we spent the holiday together, even when I lived here, but here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve groans, collapsing on the couch behind him. “I don’t know what it is about my parents that has me running to them every time they ask, even though they don’t give a damn about me 99% of the time.”

Eddie follows Steve's lead, settling on the couch but leaving the middle cushion open. An unofficial barrier between them. “I’m no psychologist, but it sounds like textbook daddy issues to me.”

Steve shoves at Eddie’s shoulder, but he doesn’t move, too stunned by the sudden contact to do anything else. Steve’s hand leaves his shoulder as fast as it finds it, but the effects are already in motion. Eddie’s entire body vibrates under the ghost of Steve’s touch, skin alive and hot in a way it hasn’t been in years.

Eddie turns, expecting to find Steve staring off in the distance, but instead, he’s staring at him with those open, honest hazel eyes. All it takes is one look, one single slip of his eyes to Steve’s lip and back again, and Steve’s surging forward, closing the distance between them.

Steve tastes like cheap liquor and pickle juice, and all it takes is one swipe of Steve’s tongue, and Eddie’s transported back to the Fall of 1986. Of experimenting with whatever ingredients they had on hand in the kitchen and throwing back drinks to nurse their respective education wounds — Eddie not graduating again, Steve failing to get into college. Memories of playful shoves turning into wrestling matches turning hot and heavy until lips met lips and skin, so much skin.

Five years may have passed, but it feels like no time at all as Eddie sinks further into Steve’s embrace, fingers tangling in the wisps of hair on Steve’s neck, and Steve’s own hands find themselves tangled in his curls.

It’s only when Steve moves to straddle Eddie’s hip that the reality of the situation hits him. Eddie jolts away; hands braced on Steve’s shoulders to keep a respectable amount of distance between them. He hates himself the moment he looks into Steve’s cloudy hazel eyes, but he’d hate himself more if he let this continue without checking in.

With Steve an arm's length away, Eddie studies him. Squinting as he stares into Steve’s eyes, checking for glassy, unfocused eyes, excessive sweating, and flushed face — all of which Steve has, but maybe not for the reasons Eddie is checking for.

“You’re drunk,” Eddie says plainly.

Steve shakes his head, words, not even the least bit slurred when he says, “No. Maybe a little buzzed, but that’s it. I promise.”

Something snaps inside of Eddie at those two words, releasing the anger his horniess has been holding at bay. In an instant, he feels the rage boiling inside of him, and he shoves at Steve hard enough to send him back to his end of the couch.

“With much offense, Steve,” Eddie says, venom dripping from his lips as he spits out Steve’s name. “Promises don’t mean shit coming from you.”

And just like that, they’re back where they started the evening off. Opposite sides of each other, scowling and hurt in their own ways.

Steve sighs and shifts on the couch, not-so-subtly adjusting himself in his pants. “Eds,” he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I fucked up, okay. I know I did, but what was I supposed to? My dad was threatening you just as much as he was threatening me, and it was just easier to leave.”

“Easier for you, maybe.”

“I—“

“What are we doing here, Steve?” Eddie asks, cutting off whatever lame excuse is coming next.

“I thought I was trying to apologize but clearly I was wrong.”

Eddie can’t help the dark chuckle that escapes him. “So you apologize, and then what? We fuck, you get one last blowjob by the former freak of Hawkins, and then poof, you’re gone again?” Eddie rises from the couch in an instant, sock-covered feet pacing the length of the living room. He steals one glance down at Steve and shakes his head. “I should have listened to Jeff. Should have listened to everyone and stayed the fuck away. This is nothing but a pre-holiday fuck, and I’m so fucking stupid for falling for it.”

“No!” Steve shouts, standing up now too. “I’m not, I mean, I didn’t even know you’d be at the Hideout. I just stopped there because I couldn’t stomach the thought of showing up to my parents' place sober.”

“You think that makes me feel better?” Eddie snaps. “Tell me this: if I wasn’t at the bar tonight, would you have come to find me?”

Steve says silent.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t even know you were still in Hawkins until tonight!”

“Bullshit! I know for a fact Henderson has mentioned seeing me when he comes back for the holidays. Just stop lying!”

“You want me to stop lying?” Steve shouts, stalking over to where Eddie’s stopped pacing. He boxes him in against the new bookshelf he installed in the corner where Wayne’s roll-away mattress used to sit. With his shoes still on, Steve’s got half an inch on Eddie and it’s daunting staring up into those eyes when Steve’s jaw is set in a hardline. “I fucking love you, okay? I have for years! And yeah, I was a fucking coward for leaving, and I could have, should have called in the years since, but I was scared, okay? I was scared you figured out that I’m not worth it and found someone better, just almost everyone else in my stupid fucking life and—“

It’s Eddie’s lips that crash into Steve’s this time. The words die on Steve’s lip, and for a maddening moment, Eddie wonders if he’s broken him beyond repair. That maybe he sould have left him keep spiraling and hit rock button, but then Steve kisses him back and it’s perfect. Well, as close to perfect as they can get considering they’re both angry and exhausted and Jesus h. Christ when did Steve learn to do that with his tongue? It’s headier than the kiss on the couch, leagues better than their awkward teenage makeouts from that autumn. They’ve both grown up, practiced, and found what works, and god damn, does it work.

When they pull apart this time, it's only to catch their breaths before diving back in. Eddie gets his hands on Steve’s shirt, rucking it up and over his head in a tangle of limbs, his own shirt isn’t too far behind, flying through the air with reckless abandon. Steve’s lips find his throat and Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to scream or sink into him further so he does a mix of both, a wanton moan falling from his lips as he pulls Steve closer by his hips and ruts against him.

They’re really moving now, stumbling down the familiar hallway until they’re crashing into Eddie’s unmade bed. Eddie hovers over Steve, admiring his flushed torso and blissed-out face for all of two seconds before Steve pulls him close, whispering want you and need you, and who is Eddie to deny Steve anything, much less mutual pleasure?

They fumble with each other’s jeans, hands shoving and hips lifting and twisting until there’s nothing between them but the thick, musty air. Eddie’s hands trail up and down Steve’s body, his lips and teeth following leaving marks on his favorite moles. He licks a stripe from the dip of his waist to his belly button and back down, and Steve keens under him.

“Please,” Steve whines. “Stop teasing.”

“It’s call foreplay, sweetheart,” Eddie chirps, but ultimately gives in, taking all of Steve in his mouth in one go.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve swears, fisting a hand into the sheets.

Eddie pulls away, eyes wide and full of mischief. “First you say no teasing, then you get mad when I take you? What do you want from me, Stevie?” He cups Steve’s ball, rolling them with enough pleasure to coax another moan from Steve’s lips.

“Just play nice, Eds.”

Eddie hums, then dives back in, slower this time but still just as desperate. He’s missed this almost as much as he’s missed Steve in general. Maybe even more, if he’s honest. There are a lot of dicks in the sea, but none as beautiful and responsive as Steve’s.

Eddie laughs at the cheesy thought, and the vibrations do something to Steve to elicit the most beautiful sound Eddie’s ever heard. He almost laughs again just to hear it again, but before he has a chance, Steve’s shoving him off and flipping them over.

“Wh— what’s going on?”

“M’too close, and I don’t want cum without tasting you first.”

Despite his protests, Steve dives straight in with no preamble and Eddie feels the familiar coil of pressure building in an instant. He’s not going to last, not if Steve keeps doing that with his tongue and Jesus h. Christ he’s never going to live it down if he cums two seconds into getting Steve’s lips on him.

He tries to think of anything else. The disgusting bathrooms at the Hideout he’s going to have to clean tomorrow and the grocery list on the fridge he has to brave the last-minute holiday shoppers for, but nothing seems to work.

Eddie squirms, tries his best to get away from Steve but Steve hand settles on his hips, holding him to the mattress as he continues to move up and down. Eddie sees the stars building in his eyes without even closing his eyes and his hand moves on its own volution, finding Steve’s leaking cock and wrapping his hand around it.

If he’s going to cum embarrassingly fast, so is Steve.

He matches his strokes with Steve’s and they both fill the room with their moans and cries until finally they collapse on each other. Eddie’s hand and chest are sticky with Steve’s cum, and his own is spilling out Steve’s lips, but he doesn’t care. He pulls Steve closer, capturing his lips in a searing, sweaty kiss.

* * * 

Another round and an hour-long make-out session later, they finally get up to clean themselves up. Eddie leaves Steve in his room and disappears into the bathroom. One look at His debauched self in the mirror and Eddie can’t help the smile that breaks out. If someone had told him this was how he’d be spending the early hours of his first Thanksgiving without Wayne, he would have laughed in their face.

When he returns to the room a few minutes later, Steve’s back on the bed, the thin sheet doing little to cover his lower half while his torso lays on full display, light by the warm light seeping through the cracks of Eddie’s blinds as the sun rises outside.

“Hi,” Eddie whispers, suddenly shy as he slips back into bed.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, shuffling across the bed and making himself comfortable on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around Steve’s bare middle before bending the other behind his own head. He looks down at Steve, slowly drinking in the look of peace on his face and the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he starves off sleep they’re both desperate for.

“How long are you in town for?” Eddie asks and mentally curses himself. Fucking Munson, just enjoy the moment!

Steve shifts, chin digging into Eddie’s solar plexus as his sleepy eyes find Eddie’s. “The weekend, at least. Maybe a few extra days.”

“Yeah?”

“I could be persuaded,” he says, reaching up to wrap a lock Eddie’s hair around his finger. “I mean, I am unemployed until January, as you so kindly pointed out.”

A part of Eddie wants to laugh, maybe even apologize for the uninspired jab from hours ago, but there’s something more important he has to do. Even if it kills him. He tries to keep his smile intact when he opens his mouth next, whispering the words as close to Steve’s ear as he can so he can’t deny hearing them.

“I’m not asking you to stay. You have to make that choice on your own, Steve. Start living your life for you.”

Steve’s smile falters, lips twitching, threatening to turn into a pout, but they don’t. Instead, he nods, and Eddie feels the weight of his confession and the fear-strikes anticipation of Steve’s reaction evaporate from his own body.

Steve nods, turning to press a chaste kiss to the same demon that’s been etched there since before Steve became his all those years ago. “I know.”

Eddie hums noncommittally and drags his fingers through Steve’s damp hair, nails lightly stretching at his scalp in the way he knows Steve loves. “So then, what do you want?”

There’s a moment of silence and Eddie watches the seven stages of grief wash over Steve’s face before he opens his mouth again. “I can promise you the weekend to start.”

It’s not the answer Eddie wanted, but it’s the one he was bracing for. He knows better than to expect Steve to make a life-changing decision in their post-coital haze. Wouldn’t want him to even if he gave him the answer he wanted. All he really needs is the truth.

“Boyfriends for the weekend?” Eddie says. The word feels foreign on his tongue and yet just right. “Does that mean I get a front-row seat to watch you ruin your dad’s life when you tell him about the fire academy?”

Steve snorts, hot air tickling Eddie’s love-bite-ridden neck. “I mean, if you want. Might make things worse, though.”

Eddie hums in agreement. The last thing he wants is to make Steve’s day even harder than it’s going to be, no matter how much he’d love to get some face-to-face time with good ol’ Dick Harrington.

“How about this,” Eddie says, turning so they’re nose to nose in bed now. “I’ll be your getaway driver. Drive you over, and when you’re ready to leave, I’ll be waiting around the bend like old times sake. And then…” He trails off, nose bumping against Steve as he peppers his freckled face with kisses and nips. “I’ll bring you back here and we can make good use of this whole boyfriends for the weekend thing.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, breathy and more of a sigh than anything else but the sentiment is there. “That sounds perfect.”

Eddie hums and pulls Steve’s lips between his in a long, lingering kiss before separating. “The only condition is I get to be the one who leaves this time when you have to come back.”

“Not forever, though, right?”

“Well, that’s up to you, babe.”

Steve nods, swooping in to give Eddie his own version of a passionate kiss. “Okay, but then we’re even.”

“Yeah, we’ll be even.”

Eddie watches the smile slowly spread across Steve’s face before he hides in the crook of his neck. Eddie presses his own grin into the mop of sweaty hair on Steve’s head as they lay there, completely intertwined from their head to their toes.

“Boyfriends for the weekend,” Steve mumbles through a yawn before finally letting his eyes flutter shut.

“And then for life,” Eddie whispers, lips pressing into Steve’s forehead before his own eyes give in to the exhaustion coursing through his body.

[rahleeyah]

So I read a lot of fic lol and one of the things I find so funny is that authors either write that Liv still can’t cook a thing and still gets takeout for everything or they’ll say she had to learn for Noah’s sake and now she’s actually a decent cook. (And as someone who now lives alone and had to grow up and figure some shit out and has actually gotten pretty good at cooking now if I do say so myself it really isn’t that hard so I’m usually team liv figured out how to use her kitchen for Noah’s sake)

Anyways I always have this head canon (that I’ve never wrote out but maybe I should) that when liv got Noah she got a phone call from Nick’s abuelita who was like “my Nicky tells me you have a baby and you cannot cook anything” 😂 and then Liv goes to her house and learns how to cook. And probably Barba’s mom and Mrs. Carisi teach her some things too cuz I want to believe they shared more time together than could be shown on screen.

Anyways I’m thinking about this mainly because there’s been some fics from Mrs. McCann’s POV and obvs she’s an excellent cook. And that’s not to say liv doesn’t get takeout often I’m sure she still does but I mean she’s also an adult with a child I’m sure she learned how to make some meals😂

You mention food a lot regarding svu and how it was nice in 1.0 when the characters sat down to meals together and how it made them very human which I totally agree with so I was wondering if u had any thoughts?

Have a great day!! Happy L&O Thursday!! ❤️

I love this so much thank you friend!!

So the thing is like. 1.0 Liv doesn't ever cook, it's established there's no food in her fridge, she's always getting delivery. There's a scene early in s13-14 where she is actively trying to cook at home when Nick brings her bad news and she throws her half cooked dinner in the sink, as if she no longer has the strength to keep trying (or as if she no longer thinks she deserves it, but that's another post). By s15 she is throwing dinner parties, of the manic kind (@calliopecantaloupes being of course the expert on the trauma response dinner parties). When Noah is going thru his particularly unbearable phase we see Olivia actually making dinner for him and trying to get him to eat his vegetables.

So my theory is that Liv always knew how to cook in theory, but never spent the time on it in practice. When you're just cooking for one delivery is so fucking easy, and she's barely ever home, why bother? I live alone and I love to cook and I'm pretty good at it and I know a lot about it and I cook once a week on Sundays and heat up leftovers or order in every other night of the week. It's not lack of knowledge that held her back, it was lack of need. She just didn't have to.

Now we know Cassidy cooks, at least a little, and cooking with someone is a special kind of intimacy, and I like to think he taught her some recipes. But then he's gone. But then she has a baby.

And Olivia is devoted to being a Good Mom. She sings to Noah she's working with him on his speech she's buying him all the little toys and outfits and trying so fucking hard. I absolutely think Liv started to cook more - not learn to, bc she already knew how, but started to actually do it - bc she had a child and feeding her child is important emotionally and practically.

But she took the boy to get shake shack this season, she is not above a return to her old ways lol

But I love your thought bc I love the idea of all these older women who are tangentially connected to Liv - Nick's mom even looks after Noah! - taking her under their wing and I love the idea of Noah growing up in this rich and varied quasi family with influences from multiple cultures/traditions, not being any one thing but being deeply loved.

But I do think Elliot can't really cook (beyond one or two set meals like spaghetti or whatever) and if I see one more fic that treats cacio e pepe like it's a fancy complex dish that Elliot "learned" how to cook while he was in Italy I am going to start biting people

[sugarybitterness]

finally found - natasha romanoff x daughter!reader

from this request | series masterlist

platonic peter x yelena x kate x reader & a hint of romantic wanda x reader ~

word count; 4983 (hfs my longest one shot to date)

warnings; implies alcohol abuse, abuse in general, mention of car accident & death.. some angst but happy ending

mega thank you to @wandaschaosmagic for helping me beta this!! <3

a/n; i was so excited for this request heheh:] also i’ve aged down peter, wanda, yelena and kate to be 15, the same age as reader! very non canon compliant but it is set in the mcu universe :D also don’t ask me how yelena and r are the same age but lena calls tasha “sestra” because i have no clue how to explain their backstory and im way too lazy to figure it all out. and yes peter is r’s best friend but i’m a fucking simp for wanda so .. hope y’all enjoy weehuu<3 feedback is greatly appreciated for this!!

“and so she did this insane move! like i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone except miss romanoff pull off something like that. i don’t even know how she knows how to do it!” peter babbles on excitedly as he and the other teens on the team settles around the kitchen island to do their homework.

“he’s not joking sestra. i saw it with my own eyes, for a moment i thought i was looking at a mini you.” yelena chuckles as she breezed through the math homework in front of her. honestly, yelena being in school at this point was just for legality, the blonde assassin was extremely smart.

natasha just hums in response as she types away on her own computer, doing up some paperwork.

“would we be able to invite her over?” wanda asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

“ugh as if we don’t have to deal with you pining over her in school, we have to see it here too?” yelena huffs as she completes the last bit of her math homework, snapping the binder shut.

“i mean, if it’s okay with the adults we could maybe have a sleepover here?” peter wonders out loud, his gaze landing on the only adult in the kitchen. as if they timed it, peter and wanda turns to stare at yelena who just groans in annoyance.

“sestra,” yelena calls out, rolling her eyes when natasha doesn’t even bother looking up from her work. “sestra, i have an important question can you please pay me some attention?”

at that, natasha sighs softly before turning her gaze away from her computer.

“what is it lena?”

“can y/n come over for a sleepover? she’s my friend from school, peter’s best friend and wanda’s crush all rolled into one.” yelena supplies helpfully, ignoring the sokovian’s offended “hey!”

“i’m going to need a little more information than that lena.” natasha raises an eyebrow at her sister who sighs dramatically, turning to look at peter. he looks at yelena for a moment, slightly confused, until he finally understood what she wanted him to do.

“oh! er, her name is y/n.. y/n y/l/n. she was adopted as baby after being left outside an orphanage in queens. she turns 15 in december this year. she never knew who her parents were but she did those dna tests thing once and it said she’s half russian and half american, though weirdly enough the site didn’t give out any other information. she.. hm, she actually looks a lot like you ms romanoff- very red hair, green eyes. she seems really scary at first too! but is actually really soft and sweet.” peter rambles on and as soon as he realised he probably said a little too much, he laughs awkwardly before slumping down in his seat.

natasha simply shakes her head, and all the teens deflate a little before she replies, “alright i guess she can come. just her, you three and kate?”

the three teens erupts into cheers, peter pulling out his phone to text y/n while yelena goes ahead to text kate.

“thank you tasha.” wanda hops down from her seat and goes to wrap the redhead in a hug. allowing a rare moment of softness, natasha drops a swift kiss on the top of wanda’s head.

she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but these three kids (plus kate) were one of her biggest soft spots. love is for children, her brain tried to scream at her. but natasha knew better.

love makes people stronger. strong enough to leave them behind, when it’s safer than the alternative. natasha quickly pushed away those thoughts, she didn’t want to dream about what could’ve been, not tonight.

-

as natasha finishes up the last of her work for the night, there’s a light knocking on the door.

“come in.” natasha calls out as she powers off her computer.

“hey sestra,” yelena greets natasha, smiling brightly when the older girl opens up her arms for yelena to burrow into. the two sisters stay like that for a moment, relishing in the fact that they’re both here, they still have each other and they’re safe.

the silence is soon broken by yelena, who remembers why she came by in the first place.

“sestra, i’m here to talk about y/n.”

tilting her head curiously, natasha prompts yelena to continue.

“it’s nothing bad but.. remember the story you told me? about the little girl you had after one of your missions before the graduation ceremony?” yelena grimaces slightly when she feels natasha stiffen, the redhead attempting to pull out of the hug, but yelena stops her.

“i’ve seen y/n, and she.. she looks almost exactly like you. i swear it’s like looking at a carbon copy! and after the information peter shared, i’m just wondering.. what if it’s her?” yelena continues on, her grip on natasha finally loosening, so that she could look up at the redhead.

“way too many babies are left at orphanages lena, you know this. yes there might be some similarities but i highly doubt that peter’s best friend could be her.” natasha states firmly with a shake of her head. “can we not talk about this anymore? you should go to bed, you have school tomorrow.”

yelena opens her mouth to say something but, ultimately decides against it. leaning up, she places a soft kiss on natasha’s cheek, wishing her a goodnight before heading back to her own room.

that night, natasha dreams of a little girl. a little girl who looks like her, fights like her and she sees the life that she wished she could’ve provided for her.

but the red room was never a good place to grow up in.

“why’d you leave me mama?” was the haunting cry that jolts natasha awake.

i wish i didn’t. but i had no other choice.

-

natasha smiles to herself when she hears the telltale chatter of the teens who just got home from school. her ears picks up a fifth voice- which should be y/n.

setting down the last plate of food, natasha turns to greet the group of teens. her heart leaps to her throat and she has to force herself to school her features.

she sees what yelena means when you look exactly like her, heck even your laugh sounds similar to hers. her eyes zero in on what looks like a heart shaped birthmark on your collarbone, and her breath hitches.

“sestra?” “tasha?” “miss romanoff?” the overlap of voices shakes natasha out of her trance.

“yes-“ natasha clears her throat, wincing internally at how shaky her voice sounded. “yes, hello. uh, i’m natasha.”

you stand slightly behind peter, eyes widening at the sight of the natasha romanoff standing in front of you. a slight nudge in your ribs from yelena startles you and you’re quick to introduce yourself.

“you made mac and cheese?” yelena lights up, grabbing your arm to pull you towards the table. the russian assassin doesn’t miss the slight expression of pain that flits across your face before it was quickly gone, replaced with an excited smile to match the blonde’s energy.

“tasha’s mac and cheese is the best.” wanda comments happily, sliding into the seat next to you, all while peter grumbles about his best friend being stolen away.

“do you kids want anything to drink?” natasha turns around to busy herself with grabbing the glasses, missing the confused glances the kids (except you) shared amongst each other. sure, natasha would cook for them almost everyday, but she always stressed about them getting their own drinks. even when ned and mj were invited over, she was a stickler for that rule.

the rest of them rattled off their preferences, but natasha calls out your name when she didn’t hear you give an answer.

“i’m fine with anything miss romanoff.” you answer politely, your fingers fiddling nervously in your lap.

“you okay if i get you tea, like wanda?”

“that’s fine, but uh- actually never mind it’s fine.” you bite your lip nervously hoping natasha didn’t hear your slip up. but she was a trained spy after all.

“do you want it iced?” natasha probes, turning around to set down everyone else’s drinks before she settles her gaze on you. you blink at her, but nod your head slowly.

she sends you a soft smile, replying, “i like my tea iced too.”

this puzzling behaviour continues on for the rest of the day. for once, natasha wasn’t glued to her computer doing her work but she seems to be constantly hovering, making sure everyone (especially you) were comfortable and okay.

it was even harder for her to retire to her room for the night, knowing that joining in on the sleepover would just be weird. but she did manage to ask you about your favourite foods sometime during the afternoon, so she gets up early the next morning to go for her run before taking over the kitchen. even though saturdays were sam’s day to cook for the team, he was shooed away so that natasha could work undisturbed.

unfortunately for the teenagers, they still had to partake in training today, so they were all up and in the kitchen by 8am, which was where they found natasha packing up their foods into containers for them to have after their run. they also noticed that she had left out two plates, peter recognising it as your favourite dish.

“thank you for having me over, i know the rest of them having training today so i’ll just head home..” your train of thought cut off when you realised that there was food at the table and a very nervous russian assassin looking at you.

“is, uh, is this for me..?” you glance at peter with wide eyes, surprised at the fact that natasha had not only made you breakfast, but it was also your favourite.

“yes, but if you have other plans already it’s fine!” natasha replies nervously, her hands fiddling anxiously under the table.

a part of her really didn’t want you to leave. but what was she supposed to do? she couldn’t exactly tell you “hey i’m your mother, i abandoned you almost 15 years ago and i’m sorry but it was either that or have you be experimented on by the red room. oh and i don’t know who your dad is either.”

technically, she could but it just didn’t seem right to dump all that on you. especially when you seem to be doing alright now, without her. like you probably have been for your whole life.

“i’m okay with staying, thank you so much for cooking miss romanoff.” you smile shyly at the avenger in thanks. natasha smiles back in return before turning to the other 4 teens.

“alright, do the 4 of you have your fruits and shakes? good, remember to eat them before running, but don’t eat too much. 5 mile run for peter and yelena, 3 mile run for wanda and kate. come back for breakfast and homework before the rest of your training.” natasha instructs everyone, ignoring their groans of protest as she shoos them away. you giggle softly before hugging everyone goodbye, even leaving a soft kiss on wanda’s cheek, causing the sokovian to blush.

soon, it was just you and natasha left in the kitchen. she ushers you to sit at the table and you comply, answering her when she asks if you want a smoothie to go with your food.

despite both of your nerves, conversation flows easy. you don’t seem to find natasha’s questions odd, if anything it feels nice to have someone ask after you. you end up staying until the afternoon, doing your work with the rest before you eventually leave when they have to go for their individual training.

the next few weeks you came by to the tower almost every weekday. it had been natasha’s idea and while everyone was slightly confused, yelena had simply went along with it, a knowing glint in her eyes.

it felt good, the last few years had been rough for you and you often dreaded heading home after school ended. but now you would hitch a ride with everyone to go to the avengers tower after school and then get a ride back home with peter.

you found yourself getting closer to natasha as well, the russian could always be found where you were. it was confusing for you, to seemingly be the centre of natasha’s attention, but it felt almost natural.

one night would soon change everything.

-

wanda groans quietly when she hears her phone ring, blindly reaching out for it, she accepts the call and puts it to her ear.

“hello?” wanda mumbles sleepily, yawning as she waits for a reply.

“wanda?” your trembling voice immediately shocks all the sleep out of wanda’s system.

“y/n/n? milaya? what’s wrong are you okay?” wanda sits up in bed quickly, her free hand flicking to turn on the lamp on her side table.

“i’m sorry, i-“ your words are cut off by a shuddering sob. “i didn’t have anyone else to call. peter is on a mission and i, please i need to get out of here-“

“where the fuck did you go you bitch?!” a loud male voice makes both you and wanda jump. you whimper quietly and wanda is quick to rush out of her room to head to natasha’s all while telling you stay on the line.

she bangs impatiently on the door as she tries her best to reassure you over the phone. the door swings open to reveal an irate natasha but wanda is quick to explain the sitaution.

soon, the duo are in the car while wanda continues to try and calm you. thankfully, wanda remembers your address from the few times she went over after school. with natasha as the driver, the supposed 40 minute drive becomes 20.

the car pulls up to an apartment building and the two run up the stairs. the door to the apartment was slightly open and there was drunken shouting coming from inside.

“come out come out wherever you are~ it’s okay, dada just wants to play!” the drunk man laughs obnoxiously as he tries to look for you. slipping in quietly, natasha is quick to knock him out and wanda hurries to your room, finding you in your locked closet. wanda knocks gently, “y/n? it’s wanda. can you open the door milaya? i promise it’s safe now.”

the door unlocks and she opens it to reveal you curled up on the ground, clutching a blanket and a stuffed animal. wanda lets out a soft gasp at your state, a bruise was forming on your cheek, arms littered with more bruises but the most angering thing was the handprint mark around your neck. in your worn out state, you just sit there, sobbing silently as wanda quickly shakes herself out of her shock.

“milaya, y/n.. can i touch you?” wanda’s speaks softly, doing her best not to startle you. you nod weakly and wanda scoops you up, one arm hooking under your legs and another around your body. you drop your things onto your body, forcing yourself to move your own arms to loop around her, burying your face into her neck as you sob in relief.

“thank you.” you mumble out and wanda presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

she carries you out carefully, not missing how natasha’s eyes flashed with anger when the older woman sees your state.

natasha gives one firm kick the unconscious man before they both walk back downstairs. natasha starts up the car and wanda sits in the back with you. you curl up on her lap, refusing to move and natasha doesn’t bat an eye as she drives back to the tower.

sometime on the drive back, you had fallen asleep, the day’s events catching up to you. wanda wonders how she never noticed the signs, and if peter had known about your father’s abuse at all. natasha’s heart felt heavy with guilt, her eyes constantly looking at your limp body in the rearview mirror. she catches a sight of a red blanket and she has to force the tears away.

she can’t believe you still kept it.

-

you groan softly when you feel pain throughout your body. you shuffle around a bit and tense when you don’t recognise the sheets you are on. the events of the previous night slowly come back to you, how you had tried to call peter but then remembered how he was on a practise mission with tony stark and steve rogers. the next person you had thought of was wanda, so you called her. you recall hiding in the closet, praying and hoping that he wouldn’t find you in his drunken haze. suddenly the shouting had ceased and wanda was in your room. she had carried you out, to a car.. that natasha drove?

taking a deep breath, you slowly open your eyes. you blink wearily as you look around the dark room. you sit up slowly, grimacing at the pain that shoots through your body. you hesitate for a while before calling out for FRIDAY.

“good afternoon miss y/n. do you need me to go get miss maximoff or miss romanoff?”

you reply with a yes and as an afterhtought, ask for FRIDAY to brighten up the light in the room.

there’s a series of knocks on the door and you call for them to come in, smiling softly at wanda and natasha as they step inside.

“thank you for coming to get me last night. i’m sorry i had to trouble you.” you fiddle with the blanket in your lap nervously, the same one that you had been holding onto since wanda found you the night before.

“it’s alright, but.. we do have to talk about it.” natasha moves to sit on the edge of the bed while wanda opts to sit next to you. you shift closer to her and sigh contentedly when her arms wrap around you.

“y/n..” natasha starts and you try to look at anywhere but her, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. “y/n, how long has this been going on for?”

“emotionally and verbally? years. but the physical abuse only started last year .” you hear harsh intake of breath from natasha and wanda stiffens next to you.

“my dad he, he never really wanted me. but my mum always wanted a child, even though they always had trouble conceiving. she’s the one that wanted to adopt and so she convinced him to adopt a baby together. she uh, she died in a car crash when i was 8.” your bottom lip trembles as you try not to cry.

“dad didn’t handle it so well. he never liked a lot of things but he loved mum the most. he uh, he started drinking and it spiraled from there. he raised me but was mainly absent from my life. but things got out of hand and he went to work drunk early last year, so he was fired. i think that was the final straw, you know? he got angerier, he drank more and his outbursts became more violent.”

it was as if the floodgates had opened. soon you were sharing about all the things that had been happening over the last year and a half.

“please i- i really don’t want to go back to stay with him. please don’t make me go back natasha.” you sob, hand clutching onto your blanket as you huddle closer to wanda, as if natasha was going to pick you up and send you back. she could feel her heart clench painfully and she shook her head fiercely.

“i’m never ever going to send you back there okay? i’ll call tony and see if we can pull you out of his guardianship, have you stay here with us instead.” natasha tentatively reaches out to you and when you don’t flinch, she wipes away your tears. “malyshka, i promise you that you will be safe here, okay?”

you nod in response, mumbling a relieved “thank you”.

“wanda, could you bring her to your room? it’ll probably be more comfortable than this guest room.” natasha instructs and wanda bobs her head in agreement. natasha continues, “no training for you today, just make sure that y/n is comfortable yeah? if either of you need anything, get FRIDAY to call for me. i’m going to go find tony now and sort everything out.”

leaning forward, natahsa presses a kiss to the top of both your heads before swiftly exiting the room, going straight to tony’s lab.

-

in a sick, twisted fortune, your adoptive dad wanted nothing to do with you and was more than happy to give you away.

“she’s your problem now.” he spat out venomously. steve had to physically restrain natasha from jumping him in that moment.

steve was granted temporary guardianship of you, until they figured out who would be your legal guardian. at this point, natasha had come clean about her connection with you. how she had given birth to you while on a long term mission, and how she decided to leave you on a doorstep of an orphanage the day before she had to be extracted by the red room. how she thought about you everyday and she had always second guessed giving you up. but when she was put on another mission and a 3 year old yelena was put in her arms, she was thankful that she had done what she did, especially when they had to forcefully pry yelena away from her once their undercover mission was over.

everyone had tried to convince natasha to talk to you, but while she would never admit it, she was afraid.

while you had struck up a friendship of sorts with natasha the first few weeks of coming over to the tower, your relationship only grew properly when you started to stay there permanently. you were given a week off school to recover and natasha had spent the entire week fussing over you, making sure you healed well.

natasha took you under her wing, and soon you were nicknamed her shadow. because calling you mini nat or mini romanoff hit far too close to home for the older redhead.

so it came as no surprise to anyone (but natasha) when at the 6 month mark of being at the tower, you decided to ask natasha to be your actual legal guardian.

natasha feels her heart soar at the question, her heart warming at your hopeful gaze. she wants to say yes, to wrap you up in a tight hug and pepper the top of your head with kisses.

but she also knows you deserve the truth. so she pushes down the happiness threatening to overflow and instead grabs your hand, pulling you to your room. despite your confusion, you follow her as she guides you to your bed, both of you taking a seat.

“i..” natasha hesitates slightly, not knowing if she was ready for this conversation to happen. she takes a deep breath, as she tries to calm her heart, knowing that she would not forgive herself if she didn’t tell you this. she wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive her either for keeping this a secret for so long.

“thank you malyshka. it means a lot to me that you would choose me as your guardian. but, before i accept i think that there‘s something you should know.” you nod slowly, lips curling into a slight pout as you wonder what was going on.

natasha’s tongue swipes over her dry lips as she gestures to the blanket that sits on your bed. you grab it and look back towards her as you waited.

“do you know how you got this blanket?”

you nod, this blanket was the only thing you had of your biological mother. the orphanage said that it was left with you in the basket. you always struggled with your feelings towards your mother, did she not want you? why were you left there with nothing but a blanket with a set of initials on it and your name written in a cursive loop on a card.

“the initials on them.. N and R, correct?”

your breath hitches as you stare at natasha, your trembling fingers brushing against the initials the same way you do every night you think of her.

“how do you know that?” you breathed out, gaze steady on natasha’s.

“because i was the one who sewed them there.” natasha says softly. but you hear her, and soon you’re on your feet.

“no.” your voice is shaky, eyes filling with tears.

“y/n-“ natasha stands up but you quickly step back, hand still clutching onto your blanket.

“you.. you’re my mother? the mother who left me? and you’ve been here all this time? how long have you known?”

natasha doesn’t answer.

“godamnit natasha, how long have you known?!” you shout, your hand swiping across your eyes harshly.

“since the very first day peter brought you over. the heart shaped birthmark confirmed it for me.”

you chuckle weakly, your legs start moving and soon you’re pacing around the room. you stop suddenly and turn to face natasha. she takes in a shuddering breath, trying not to cry at the look of hurt and betrayal on your face.

“why? i don’t understand, how can you be my mother? my mother didn’t want me, she left me on the doorstep of an orphanage. but you- you’ve been nothing but a mother to me! you were the one that got me a place here and you were the one that patched me up. the one that held me through all my breakdowns and who even started to train me so i could protect myself. how could you be the same person that abandoned me?” you cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look at natasha, trying to understand.

you’d be lying if you said you never thought about her. especially after your adoptive mother passed, you wondered if you’d ever find your biological mom. you were actually considering asking tony if he could help you track her down, if it was even possible. but all this while, she has been right here in this tower you have come to call home.

“i never wanted to leave you malyshka. if i could, i would’ve taken you with me but i couldn’t do it. not when i was going back to the red room.” natasha’s crying now too, her eyes red as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“the red room they, they train little girls to be killers. we kill each other to be the best and i would never have forgiven myself if i handed you over. i missed you everyday malyshka, i thought about you day and night. but i never ever regretted leaving you behind, because i love you too much to put you through what i went through.” natasha risks a step closer to you.

“i’m sorry my little one, i never meant to hurt you. i hope one day you can forgive me for leaving you, but if not that’s okay. i promise that i will do all i can to make it up to you, even if you never want to see me again-”

“no!” you interrupt natasha, a sob clawing its way out of your chest. “please don’t go.”

this time you’re the one to close the distance. you were always slightly shorter for your age, which meant that you were still smaller than natasha. you wrap you arms around her midsection and you bury your face against her shoulder as you start to cry harder. she wraps her arms around you and hugs you close, swaying her body gently in hopes to soothe you.

“i’m.. i’m still mad.” you confess quietly. “i understand why you did it, you just wanted to protect me. but you could’ve still found me- you’re a trained spy. why didn’t you?”

“i still have red in my ledger. i’m a walking target, i have all sorts of people who want me dead. i never wanted to get you entangled in all this.”

you pull away, a new wave of tears threatening to fall at the implications of her words.

“does this mean i have to leave?”

“no!” natasha quickly backtracks, realising how her words got misinterpreted. “no. you don’t have to go anywhere okay? that was what i thought last time. but now..”

natasha raises a hand to cup your cheek softly, fingers wiping away your tears.

“but now i have you back i don’t think i ever want to let you go.”

your lips curl into a shy smile as you reply. “i don’t want to go either.”

natasha leans forward and presses your foreheads together. you let out a shaky breath as your eyes close. the two of you allow the silence to fall over the both of you until you decide to break it.

“i think this means you can’t be my legal guardian anymore.” natasha’s heart sinks into her stomach. her eyes open and she is met with your smile.

“maybe.. maybe you could adopt me? be my mum officially once again?” you continue on, eyes cast downwards shyly. natasha smiles brightly as she leans to press a kiss onto your forehead.

“even without that piece of paper, i have always been and will always be your mama. thank you for trusting me malyshka.”

both of you know that there is still a lot of things to talk about, but for now, you finally have your mama and natasha finally gets the chance to hold and call her baby hers.

you finally found each other.

[griffintail]

The True One

A/N THERE ARE SPOILERS FROM RECENT LORE STREAM! DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF YOU DON’T KNOW!

Summary: Reader learns the truth.

Pairings: Parental! Tommy x Teenage! F! Reader

Warnings: Mother Fluffing Angst. Death. Mentions of Exile. Swearing. 

Part 2

A/N: This is not canonical to Lost Ones! It has elements from the storyline but it’s not canon. And yes, I’m dying on the inside because of the stream. That’s why I wrote this.

Ps: (F/L) means first letter of your first name. I forgot to put this original.

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

        (Y/N) was thirteen when she first thought her father died.

        Dream wouldn’t let her stay with him. Tommy had to serve his punishment.

        But being told no was never in an Innit’s vocabulary. She snuck into his exile every day she could, avoiding the likes of Dream and going behind her Uncle Tubbo’s back, who had taken over her care.

        At first, everything was fine and Tommy always enjoyed her visits. Then something changed…

        She had begged anyone that would listen to go with her to her father’s exile. He had begun to worry her. All of her life, Tommy had told her to never trust Dream. He often cursed Dream’s name to the wind and his face and she often cursed his name in the wind with him. Now, he called Dream friend.

        No one came though, not even Tubbo, always claiming they were busy.

        She never relented though and tried to make her visits more frequent; unfortunately, being so desperate made her sloppy. Tubbo caught her sneaking into the Nether and followed her.

        This time though, he listened! He went with her, saying only because he was free and they were already here.

        She had rejoiced as she practically skipped down the path to Tommy’s. Stepping out of the portal, her heart dropped though. Logstedshire was smoking and in ruins.

        “Daddy!” (Y/N) screamed as she ran towards the dying embers of the fire.

        Tubbo was frozen by the edge of the path over, looking at the hastily built pole.

        “You wouldn’t Tommy,” Tubbo whispered. “Not with (Y/N) …”

        “Daddy!” She screamed again, tears in her eyes, snapping Tubbo out of his shock.

        Tears were in his own eyes. He had lost his best friend…

        “(Y/N),” Tubbo muttered to her, going over to her carefully.

        (Y/N)’s mind was racing. What had Dream done? Tommy couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t leave her here…

        Dream did this, but it could have been stopped. He…

        Tubbo put a hand on her shoulder but she whipped away from him, glaring daggers at the older male. Tubbo was surprised, having never seen (Y/N) give anyone such a look.

        “You didn’t care.” She spat out venomously. “I TOLD ALL OF YOU! HE NEEDS YOU! I TOLD YOU!”

        “(Y/N), I—”

        “IT’S YOUR FAULT!” She shouted before running off into the woods.

        Tubbo had stood frozen, unable to process what happened before it was too late. He shouted (Y/N)’s name for hours in the woods but she had, had a good teacher. Tommy taught her everything he knew and while he wasn’t the stealthiest man, it was enough to hide from Tubbo.

        She stayed at the ruins of Logstedshire, unable to leave or accept her father was gone. He wouldn’t just leave her, he’d come back.

        That’s where Technoblade found her and she most certainly could hide as easily from him. But luckily, he didn’t take her back to L’Manberg, she brought her to the one thing that mattered.

        (Y/N) followed behind Techno quietly, intimidated by the man that told her to just be quiet and follow. They got to his base and he opened the door to the lower level before going down the ladder.

        “Tommy!” He called, making (Y/N) freeze from where she was watching him go down.

        “What do you want?” Tommy groaned, coming out from his base in the floor.

        (Y/N) grabbed the sides of the ladder and slid down. She hurt her feet at the bottom but didn’t care. Tommy was startled by the other person present before grinning widely.

        “Little (F/L)!” He threw open his arms. “Sorry I haven’t gone to see—Ooof!”

        He became winded as she slammed into him with a hug.

        He was back.

        Life went on again as (Y/N) went back to the belief; nothing could bring her father down on his last life.

        She was sixteen when the final battle occurred. She lived with Tommy once again in their old home.

        She woke up and stretched only for a note to fall off her chest. Frowning, she picked up and read her father’s handwriting before sprinting up.

        It was a possible final goodbye from Tommy and Tubbo.

        She had her sword and axe clipped on her belt as she was hastily putting her armor as she went out the door. She was at the Nether portal when said pair came out, Tommy’s arm around Tubbo’s shoulder grinning.

        “WHAT THE FUCK?!” (Y/N) screamed at her father and he winced.

        It took a lot to calm (Y/N) down that day…and the next.

        She had really become a lot like him in her sixteen years of life. She often spoke her mind and was not afraid to hold back. Her swordsmanship wasn’t half bad, having been taught by both Tubbo and Tommy. She, of course, also had a passion for rare discs as well. (Y/N) was her own person, but people often called her small Innit as she resembled her father so much.

        She was so much so like him, when she calmed down after the final battle for the discs, Tommy gave her a gift.

        “Here.” He smirked, holding out a (F/C) piece of fabric.

        “What’s this?” She questioned, taking it.

        “Your own bandana, I was going to get you a red one but, thought you should try to be your own woman.” He shrugged.

        She stared at it before hugging her father tightly, making the man laugh as he hugged her back.

        “Thanks, dad.”

        “Eh, you’re my kid, I kind of have to be nice to you.”

        She punched his shoulder before putting it on as Tommy laughed.

        She wore it every day with pride.

        …

        She was visiting Tubbo when it happened.

        She didn’t need her father to survive, but he had “important business” and said he’d come to get her from Tubbo’s after to celebrate. At the time, she thought he was just improving the hotel.

        The day ended though and there was no sign of Tommy. She was worried but Tubbo assured her that Tommy could have lost track of time or his business took longer than he meant. She stayed the night in Snowchester and went home in the morning. When she got home…there was no Tommy.

        “Hey dad, you there?” She called on their channel.

        No answer.

        She shifted nervously, before going to the construction site. Sam Nook might have kept him busy.

        When she got there, Jack was putting up a large, cloth sign with hastily written words painted on it over the main sign.

        “Jack, what are you doing?” She frowned.

        Jack whipped around, before grinning. “I’m putting up my sign for my new hotel!”

        (Y/N) blinked once. Then twice.

        “What did you say bitch!” She shouted.

        Jack rolled his eyes as he came over, his hand twitching towards his axe. “I’m the last worker here. Tommy’s not going to be needing any more, so now it’s mine. So, get off my property.”

        (Y/N) had noticed his hand and watched him carefully as she put a hand on her sword handle.

        “What do you mean he’s not going to be needing it?”

        Jack grinned wickedly. “Tommy’s been thrown in jail.”

        What? No, he didn’t do anything!

        “You’re lying.”

        “No, he’s in there…”

        “Stop lying.”

        “And he’s not getting out…”

        “Stop lying!”

        “He’s done some pretty horrible things.”

        (Y/N)’s sword hit his as he reacted quickly in shock at the teen’s rage.

        “I said stop lying you fuck!”

        Jack’s eyes had darkened and he went to strike the girl when a new body went in front of (Y/N) and a shield blocked the attack.

        “Get off the property or I will have to dispose of you.” Sam Nook told him.

        “This is my—!” Jack started shouting.

        “This is my property!” (Y/N) shouted, sword at her side. “It’s the Big INNIT Hotel. As an Innit, I demand you leave.”

        Jack growled and left the property. Tommy was taken care of; it’d be her turn next.

        “Sam, where’s dad?” (Y/N) asked Sam Nook quietly.

        “I’m not sure. I’m sure he’ll be back soon though!” He tried to encourage her.

        “Yeah.” She muttered. “Keep Jack away ok? I’m going to…go see if anyone knows where he went.”

        “Ok. Be careful Miss (Y/N).”

        She nodded as she went home, taking deep breaths before going on the public channel.

        “Hey, does anyone know what Tommy was doing last?” (Y/N) asked, pacing the room.

        “He was visiting Dream last I heard,” Foolish answered her call.

        She stood frozen in the middle of the base. Tommy had gone and…

        “Did something happen when he came back?” Her voice was more frantic.

        “Not that I know of, yesterday was the last I heard from him.”

        Yesterday?!

        (Y/N) felt her chest tighten as she remembered her fear when she was thirteen. The fear she felt when she read Tommy’s note. All the pain the two of them endured to try and finally now live happily. She needed to see Sam now.

        Just like she had a few months ago she scrambled to put on her gear and ran out the door towards the prison. The effects of the area tired her, made her feel weaker, but she didn’t care as she stood at the entrance.

        “Sam!” She called, knowing the man could hear her. “Sam! Answer me please! Sa—”

        “I figured you come.” Sam said stepping through the portal, hands behind his back. “(Y/N), I need you to leave.”

        “Where’s my dad?” She demanded.

        “There was a security breach when he was in the main cell. I can’t open it until I have it figured out.”

        “He’s…He’s in there with Dream?!” She shouted.

        “Yes, but Tommy’s tough he can…”

        “Daddy!” She screamed, going for the entrance but Sam took her arm to stop her.

        “(Y/N), I need you to leave until I have this figured out.”

        “No, while my dad is in there you stupid bastard! Let him out!”

        “I can’t open the cell—!”

        “I don’t give a flying fuck!” She roughly pushed him away and sprinted in before Sam could stop her. “Dad!”

        “(Y/N)!” Sam shouted as he followed after her.

        She went to run but Sam easily caught her, more used to the effects of the prison.

        “Let me go! I have to save him! Daddy! I’m going to save you this time!” She screamed into the building. “I won’t leave!”

        “You’re only prolonging how long he’s in here!” Sam told her. “I need you to leave so I can work (Y/N).”

        “I can’t leave him. I can’t lose him again. Please, Sam. He—That box and—Dream—and…” The teenager was in tears as she pleaded with the creeper hybrid.

        Sam sighed sadly. “I know. I know. I will fix this as soon as I can. Please, go home. I’ll fix this and get him out, I promise.”

        She couldn’t do anything, but she had to do one thing even in hopes he’d hear.

        “I LOVE YOU, DADDY!” She heard her voice echo. “I’LL MAKE SURE YOU GET OUT OK!”

        She couldn’t do anything more. Sam wouldn’t let her. Instead, she went to the hotel and stayed there as it was even just a few miles closer to where her father was trapped.

        For days, she didn’t leave the room, just staring out the window at the building looming in the distance. Sam Nook tried to get her to eat but she couldn’t. Tubbo had come to try and help her once but that didn’t help at all, only reminding her of before. Her mind couldn’t even think about doing something like that.

        All she could think about was her father.

        Sometimes, as she stared at the building, she sat on their channel on the walkie and just talked like he’d hear her. He had to hear her…

        She was sitting by the window when her door opened, Sam Nook looking at the ground as Sam stood tall behind him.

        “What are you doing? You need to be—” (Y/N) started, her voice strained as she stood up.

        “I’m sorry,” Sam muttered.

        “What? What do you mean? Why aren’t you looking into your security breach?” She asked.

        “I’m so sorry, I was too late,” Sam whispered.

        (Y/N) stood there, taking in his words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

        “I tried (Y/N) and I wish I could have…” He came in but she shook her head.

        “You’re fucking with me. You lying piece of shit, this isn’t funny.” She pointed at him, as she stepped back.

        “I’m not…”

        “You’re lying!” She shouted her throat hurting, but she took off her walkie.

        She needed to prove them wrong! But…

        Tommy Innit was slain by Dream

        “No. No. No. NO! IT’S WRONG!” She screamed to the wind. “IT’S WRONG! HE’S NOT GONE!”

        She collapsed crying, hugging the walkie close to her as Sam came over, hugging her tightly to him. Across the ocean, Tubbo was running for the nearest boat to get to the girl he considered a niece, but nothing would comfort her now.

        “DADDY!” She cried out, her bandana around her neck fluttering lightly as she cried at the true death of her father…

[ryleejam]

@thetheatergremlin it's their dragon Jeremy au(not canon to the Story it's up to them tho)

Iou a title (edit later)

Squip After a couple of hours of a weird black out cause by alcohol, he reactivate back at his host's home

He thought to himself

"hmmm I guess Michael took Jeremy home, good I was getting some bad feelings-"

This thought stop when seeing a frighten Michael and Jeremy sitting on the floor near the door, they look like a mess! Scrapes and bruises all over ash stuck on their clothes, they look like they've been running from something or someone, either way it causes extreme worried in the cloud dragon man,

"oh my goodness, Jeremy are you and Michael ok!?,what happened!?"

Jeremy a scared little dragon teen look at his squip shaken,

"me and Michael were just hanging at the party than Rich set a fire!,Jake is really hurt,but we all almost didn't make it!...it was terrifying"

Squip's eyes wide in shock,

"it can't be,are you sure it was him,jerk or not he's not a arsonist,he wouldn't danger people's lives"

Jeremy looks at Michael, he was going to say something to him but he shakes thinking about the events, Michael who is used to Jeremy talking to his squip out loud, hugs Jeremy comforting him

Michael trying to look at squip who he can't see

"it's true...we don't know what happened to Rich,we are really worry,but what if it was his squip made him do it,what if you try to hurt us?..."

Squip felt hurt,he would never, not in a million years he would never think about hurting anyone especially Jeremy and his friends, dead dragon instinct or not he counts Jeremy as his hatchling his kid,he would never want to put him in harms way,he has to prove it to them and he thinks he knows how

"Jeremy, just give me a moment.."

"what?"

He walks out of sight,and start to search for his well brain search history, after a couple of minutes he found it,a saying to make anything real or fack into the visible plane ,it's perfect,sad this was going to be a surprise after Jeremy reach his goal, but that's not important anymore they need him,

than after the process, he felt the ground for real this time,it work he's actually here,

Squip walks back getting ready to what ever gets thrown at him,

Jeremy looks at him with concussion

"what did you do?,why did you have to go?"

Michael to Sean staring him down and eyes winded

"ummmmm excuse me but is that a fucking cloud dragon? Weren't they dead for like decades?"

Jeremy looks at him

"what do you mean?..wait can you see squip?"

Squip bends down and smiles

"I made myself physical, I was going to surprise you but I think you two need comfort, squip or not I feel you two need it"

Jeremy looks like he more shock now dut in a good way, someone he see as a parent figure is now physically here everyone else can see him,

"I won't mind a hug,but Michael,do want to hug a cloud dragon?"

Jeremy smile at him

Michael looks at Jeremy than at squip than smile

"yes,I want to hug the guy who been protecting my favorite person"

Squip takes no time and hugs both of them coving them with his cloud like wings with his arms,

Michael kind of surprised of affection that a super computer can have, but he feels a lot better,

Jeremy on the other hand he his a happy dragon boi,he feels things are going to be okay, what ever happens he can count on squip to be there without a problem,and now he also doesn't have to poorly explain what squip looks like anyone to people because oh Lord it was tuff,

Squip a happy dragon dad takes the boys to the couch and give them blankets and pillows,

"ok I know things are kind of better now, but you two need sleep, school is in 6 hours if I can't convince l Jeremy's dad to let you guys stay home, after I explained who I am heh, you two need sleep"

The boys nod and get comfortable and both slowly fall asleep ,

squip smiles and ruffles Jeremy's hair

"I'll be here in the morning, you kids can count on me"

(tadaaaa, that was long sorry if it is bad)

[inukag]

I've seen some people say that Yashahime is canon only to the OG anime, but I'd make the argument that it's not even that! Think about it:

While the Inuyasha anime did mess around with the manga lore or make up their own here and there, they still did bring to attention some lore that they CLEARLY ignore/retcon in Trashahime. Like in one of the 1st episodes of the OG anime where Myoga explains how Tessaiga was made to protect Izayoi, Inuyasha's mother. Yet, later on in Yashahime we find through a flashback that Touga apparently had Tessaiga long before he met Izayoi? What?

I actually talked about this next one with @loveyou-x3000 a long while back, but remember Hosenki l? Remember on how in the OG anime we found out he was the one whole created the black pearl that was in Inuyasha's eye? Well, I apparently found out that by Yashahime's logic, the black pearl was created by Izayoi's or somebody's tears? I'm sorry, but how does that make sense? (Correct me if I'm wrong there)

They even ignore the lore they created themselves from the OG anime, like when InuKag give Moroha the lip stick shell that was destroyed by Naraku in the Anime-only episode "Tragic Love Song of Destiny". What, am I just supposed to assume that InuYasha's been walking around with a bunch of his mother's old make-up stuff this whole time? And that he never thought to give one to Kagome, his wife, even tho he gave it to Kikyou and his own daughter?

Let's also not forget what the director has said in one of the recent interviews about demons apparently throwing their kids out in the wild as a "test of courage and cowardice", AKA Demon parents apparently not caring about their kids and abandoning them similar to how lions apparently treat their cubs. This absolute bullshit because not only is this not true in the manga, but the OG anime itself has shown several examples of demons caring about and raising their kids!!! Think about Shippo's dad, that little cat demon's dad when Inu trained with Totosai, Kuroro (demon cat that looks like Kirara), that demon dad who got his head chopped off by Hokudoshi, and even that insect demon that Jeniji killed who went out to teach its offspring how to hunt and feed! Its important too note that a good chunk of these parents are anime-only characters.

Hell, even the demon parents who didn't get to raise their kids still gave a fuck about them!!! Just look at Shiori's dad who clearly had every intention of raising his kid and even when he was dead STILL came back to protect her from her grandfather! What about Jeniji's dad who left his farm to his son so that both he and his mother would have a place to call home!?

What about Touga who sacrificed his own life so that his hanyou son could live??? (And that was from one of the movies mind you, so its anime lore.)

So now your telling me that the demon way of parenting was to leave your kids out in the middle of the woods when they're not even old enough to hold up their heads by themselves? If the OG anime series and movies followed that logic, then Touga wouldn't have even bothered to save Inuyasha's life on the night of his birth. Better yet, Touga could've just left Inuyasha in that fire, but saved Izayoi. He wouldn't have even bothered to give InuYasha his name if he just figured that his son failed his "test of courage" for being in that fire that he surely would have perished in if Touga didn't get there in time.

Also, and you can correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Yashahime's director HIMSELF (who worked on the OG anime too) say that a certain pairing that I won't name was never depicted as romantic in the original anime series? We all know it wasn't in the manga, but a while back I swear I read an interview where the director said it was never depicted in the anime either. Clearly, Yashahime threw that out the window, too.

And finally, I don't think I have to mention the retconning of all if the OG cast's character developments that were CLEARLY SHOWN IN THE OG ANIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And that is why I don't think Trashahime can even be considered canon to the anime either. I rest my case.

(Sorry for the long post. I just had to vent and get that out of my system)

Don’t worry about venting! I agree with what you said there, I would love to add more plotholes and inconsistencies that are in Yashahime to your list but... I get exhausted just thinking about it lmao

The Tessaiga retcon is especially bad. First, like you said both in the anime and manga it is said that Tessaiga was forged for Inuyasha’s mother, who in Sunrise-canon was born 200 years ago, but in Yashahime Toga had Tessaiga and was using a perfect meido zangetsuha 500 years ago to destroy the comet... 

^^ He literally has Tenseiga on his hip even though Tenseiga was created to take Meido Zangetsuha out of Tessaiga lmao

You’re not wrong about the black pearl and Hosenki. Hosenki II says in chapter 298 that he and his father “cultivate” the pearls, it has nothing to do with tears, and Inuyasha’s father commissioned the black pearl before his death... 

The rouge / lipstick is not even a different rouge, they imply in episode 15 that it’s the same one Inuyasha gave to Kikyo, but Riku somehow found it and gave it to Hosenki II for some reason. 

That raises SO many questions... When did Riku find the pieces of the rouge? Was he spying on Kikyo and Inuyasha this whole time?? How did he know the rouge belonged to Izayoi?? Is he a time traveler?? Why did Riku and Hosenki II even work together to create the new black pearl?? Is this ever going to be addressed??

Oh man the interviews... I get a headache every time I read them. Personally, I don’t really think it’s ooc for Sesshomaru to set up some kind of rite or trial for his hanyo daughters to prove their strength. I never imagined him being soft and loving with them, especially not with the way he treated Inuyasha. But like you said, it’s definitely not a universal yokai thing, we all know that. Sesshomaru is just Like That lmao. I still don’t understand why his “rite” had to take 14+ years, why it involves Kirinmaru and Zero and what it has to do with Inuyasha, Kagome and Moroha...? If he wants to make his daughters go through that, that’s his business, there’s no need to also ruin Moroha’s childhood by letting her parents rot in the border to the after life when he could get them out whenever he wants (since he can go through the gate to the afterlife thanks to Tenseiga).

Other hilarious things that Sumisawa mentioned in the last interview: - Moroha knows Sesshomaru’s scent because he’s famous amongst demons - Everyone call the girls “yashahime” because Treekyo started the trend (no one was there to hear Treekyo except the girls...?)  - Kirinmaru met Jesus Christ and Buddha at some point 

And probably other stuff I’m forgetting... I’m so tired lol

[amateur-author597]

SERIOUS RISE OF THE TITANS SPOILERS

BUT I NEED TO RANT

SPOILERS ARE UNDER THE CUT I PROMISE

I STARTED ROTT TEN MINUTES AFTER IT CAME OUT AT 5:01 PM AEST AND FINISHED ROTT AT ROUGHLY 10 TO 7

I FINISHED THE MOVIE AND SAW 8 SPOILER POSTS WITHIN 2 MINUTES ON TUMBLR

PLEASE BE CONSIDERATE OF OTHERS AND PUT ALL SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT FOR YOUR POSTS AND TAG THEM PROPERLY

FIRST OFF

Everyone who said Blinky would die because of"and blinky" in the trailer

Fuck you

It was very fair but still I was so scared

Same to if those who said Archie died because he wasn't in the trailer

Again fair but I was terrified and anxious as hell

My heart could not have handled if he died or Douxie's grief but I'm still upset about what actually happened

And I wish Zoe showed up so they could give her some characterization

We find out she's known Douxie and been friends with him for over 900 years but she doesn't help with the Arcane Order?

And none of the hedge witches show up to help fight them to defend their home?!?!?!

SECOND!!! THE TRAIN SCENE!!!

YES

LOVED IT

GREAT

Jim you stupid string bean, I love you though

Claire, good job, that was some hard magic

Toby, go duke!

Douxie my husband, YAAASS QUEEN, GET IT BABY

The Police Station

It was so funny

Everything about it I loved

Douxari confusing the officers and being neutrally chaotic

Claire trying to be tough and silent

Toby spilling ALL the tea and the officers not believing him

Archie just being Archie and enjoying the confusion of the humans

KREL SHOWING UP WITH RICKY AND LUCY

YES

OMFG

Keep casually listing just about every spy agency in order

and then just

"And your mum"

What a legend

Literal King 👑

Honestly

Walter and Barbara

Them being engaged and happy

Y E S

Jim being best man

Y E S

Walter DYING before they could get married

N O

H E L L N O

ELI GREW UP!!!!!

MPREG STEVE

Very unpopular opinion

I loved it, so fucking funny

I don't even like mpreg normally

But I loved it as a random side plot cause they probably couldn't find an import part for every character and still give them their deserved screen time

Also, funny!

Krel was way too smug explaining to Steve that he would be pregnant, not Aja

You know how we as a fandom have all decided Krel is Aro/Ace icon or at least Aro spec and/or grey ace (something like that) I have no problem with this and love it, it makes me feel very validated, but what Krel just doesn't want kids and decided it's easier to not have romantic relationships, that's also a legitimate thing a lot of woman do

Does that mean gay guys can have biological kids on Akiridion 5?

BACK TO STEVE

I wish there was a bit where Steve called Lawrence on the phone calling him "dad" or "coach dad" and being like "Hey, I know you're probably busy, you're at school but I'm seriously freaking out and I need your help or advice" and explaining the whole Akiridion pregnancy and Coach just reassuring him gently and telling him that he and Steve's mum would support him and he wasn't alone and they weren't mad at him.

Douxie figuring out the sigil

Good job baby! Smart boy! I am very proud

You very smart

The Order bringing the Titans with Nari mind controlled

😬

That's all

Numora dying

Why! It's was so unnecessary!

I don't necessarily love her by any means

But still!

Dndndbebhsvehehrdidjbdisbeurbvtisjbsgsneosbsyneyjsosnsjdbdynsvsidbfindbzhndhdushdhushdbudhnm

*key spams in frustration*

This began much irritation that just increased

THE BRIDGE

ARCHIE LEFT DOUXIE HIS LONG LIFE FRIEND AND PLATONIC SOULMATE (NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME THAT NOT JOW FAMILIARS WORK IDC)

YES HE WAS STAYING WITH HIS DAD AND I RESPECT THAT

BUT GODDAMN IT CHARLIE

CHARLEMAGNE COULD HAVE JUST LIT THE TROLLS FOLLOWING THEM ON FIRE AND THEN FLOWN OUT

THE PORTAL WOULD HAVE CLOSED AT THE SAME TIME

OR THEY COULD HAVE FREED THE TROLLS

EITHER WAY

THEY COULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT

WTF HAPPENED THE WHOLE FOUND FAMILY THING THEH WERE PUSHING IN WIZARDS

WHY PUSH A GRIEVING DOUXIE TO ESSENTIALLY GET OVER IT AND ACCEPT ARCHIE AS HIS FAMILY CUZ HE WAS ALWAYS THERE JUST TO GET RID OF ARCHIE ANYWAY

DOUXIE WOULD HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM AGAIN

HE WOULD HAVE JUST SEEN "TELL DOUXIE I SAID GOODBYE" IN THE KRONOSPHERE AS HIS LAST MEMORY OF HIM

*INCREASING FRUSTRATION*

"No More Running"DOUXIE ALMOST DIED BRINGING NARI BACK

I KNEW HE WOULDNT DIE BUT I WAS STILL SCARED

I was sad

NARI AND SKRAEL'S BATTLE WAS PERFECT

CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE I WAS NOT PLEASED WITH NARI DYING

NOR DOUXIE BEING HELD BACK ONCE AGAIN FROM SAVING A LOVED ONE

"Nor more running"

Simple line

Sweet

Shattered me and my very being THE SWITCHING SPELL

AMAZING.YES.ILOVEDIT.

DOUXIE YOU SMART BRILLIANT BOY I AM SO FUCKING PROUD

Douxari was so chaotic and funny and pure in a very weird way

I was sad that THAT screenshot of Douxie and Archie wasn't actually Archie because he looked so happy chddling his familiar but it was still cute

Narxie was so fucking sarcastic when the Arcane Order realized the spell didn't work and I live for it

Walter and Barbara

Them being engaged and happy

Y E S

Jim being best man

Y E S

Walter DYING before they could get married

N O

H E L L N O

ELI GREW UP!!!!!

MPREG STEVE

I loved it, so fucking funny

Krel was way too smug explaining to Steve that he would be pregnant, not Aja

You know how we as a fandom have all decided Krel is Aro/Ace icon or at least Aro spec and/or grey ace (something like that) I have no problem with this and love it, it makes me feel very validated, but what Krel just doesn't want kids and decided it's easier to not have romantic relationships, that's also a legitimate thing a lot of woman do

Does that mean gay guys can have biological kids on Akiridion 5?

BACK TO STEVE

I wish there was a bit where Steve called Lawrence on the phone calling him "dad" or "coach dad" and being like "Hey, I know you're probably busy, you're at school but I'm seriously freaking out and I need your help or advice" and explaining the whole Akiridion pregnancy and Coach just reassuring him gently and telling him that he and Steve's mum would support him and he wasn't alone and they weren't mad at him.

Douxie figuring out the sigil

Good job baby! Smart boy! I am very proud

You very smart

The Order bringing the Titans with Nari mind controlled

😬

That's all

Numora dying

Why! It's was so unnecessary!

Dndndbebhsve hehr didjbdisbeurbvtisjbsgsneosbsyneyjsosnsjdbdynsvsidbfindbzhndhdushdhushdbud

*key spams in frustration*

THE BRIDGE

ARCHIE LEFT DOUXIE HIS LONG LIFE FRIEND AND PLATONIC SOULMATE (NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME THAT NOT JOW FAMILIARS WORK IDC)

YES HE WAS STAYING WITH HIS DAD AND I RESPECT THAT

BUT GODDAMN IT CHARLIE

CHARLEMAGNE COULD HAVE JUST LIT THE TROLLS FOLLOWING THEM ON FIRE AND THEN FLOWN OUT

THE PORTAL WOULD HAVE CLOSED AT THE SAME TIME

OR THEY COULD HAVE FREED THE TROLLS

EITHER WAY

THEY COULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT

Titan Nari

I was so scared when Douxie nearly passes out from lack of oxygen trying to save her

Claire did a great job and I like her but I feel like they're overpowering her without developing her

Nari and Skrael's battle was a cinematic masterpiece

Coach Lawrence seriously needs a break

NARI DYING WAS UNACCEPTABLE

DOUXIE BEING HELD BACK FROM HELPING HER WAS UNACCEPTABLE

"No more running" destroyed me

I AM STILL NOT OK

I DON'T THINK I EVER WILL BE

The 9th configuration

FOUND. FAMILY. CENTRAL.

I'M THE CHOSEN ONE BUT I CAN'T DO IT ALONE

YES

The Final Battle

I don't even know what to say

Aja. QUEEN.

RIP Varvatos

Rip Douxie that fall would have really fucking hurt

He definitely had broken ribs from that

I'm surprised he could walk after even while being supported against someone else to stand

Jim should have just stabbed Bellroc instead of talking

Jim should not have been able to walk and run perfectly fine after being stabbed even with all the adrenaline

Toby WTF MAN

GOOD JOB BUT FUCKING HELL

I LEGIT CAN'T EVEN FIGURE OUT HOW IT HAPPENED

THE MOVIE CAME OUT 4 DAYS AGO (IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE THE RANT DONT JUDGE) AND I'VE WATCHED IT 5 TIMES AND I STILL DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED IT EACH TIME

HOW DID TOBY CRASH?!?!

ANYWAY

TOBY DYING WAS NOT ACCEPTABLE

JIM SCREAMING OUT HIS NAME AS SOON AS HE REALIZED TOBY WASNT THERE

BLINKY AND ARGH LOOK OF PANIC AND WORRY CUZ THEY REALIZED TOBY DIDNT COME BACK WITH JIM

DOUXIE REALIZING HE FAILED TO PROTECT SOMEONE ELSE IMPORTANT TO HIM (EVEN IF HE DOESNT HAVE MUCH OF AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP WITH TOBY, I REFUSE TO BELIEVE HE DIDN'T ADOPT THEM ALL AS HIS YOUNGER SIBLINGS)

"Always was, always will be" hurt my entire soul

The Time stone

This frustrated me so much it took me 3 days to write just this bit

Go back in time and save everyone?

Yes! Awesome!

Go back to the start the start

No

Also, I love and adore Toby

BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE

JIM GIVING THE AMULET AND RESPONSIBILITIES AWAY WHEN HE HAS 2 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE AND KNOWS ALL OF HIS MISTAKES AND HOW TO FIX THEM

WTF

AS I SAID I LOVE TOBY AND I LIKE HIM ACHIEVING STUFF

BUT HES NOT TREATED AS BADLY AS THE FANDOM ACTS LIKE HE IS

AND LOGICALLY JIM MADE A STUPID DECISION CONSIDERING WHAT HE KNOWS

I get that he was tired of being the trollhunter

Largely because he was tired of not thinking he would do a good enough job

But odds are Toby will make some of the same mistakes and they'll be right back in that same position except maybe Claire will die that time around

And if you're sick of the trauma and responsibility of it than why would you dump it on your best friend

Once again I say, it was an illogical and dumb decision

I WILL BE RUNNING TO FANFICTIONS TO ESCAPE THIS CANON

[fancyfade]

Dick, Duke, Damian!

TY for asks ^_^

Dick: answered here (link)

Duke

How I feel about this character

I liked Duke in all the appearances I saw him in. I really like how proactive he is about his situation and he's like "oh so everyone wants me to just focus on being a kid and wait for someone else to find my parents? Like hell"

also when we get to see how smart he is like when he deduces dick's secret identity in robin war which lmao admittedly wasn't hard because this was post nightwing being unmasked on tv

All the people I ship romantically with this character

none sorry duke i haven't seen you interact with a ton of kids your age besides the robin people and i don't remember shipping you with anyone from we are robin

My non-romantic OTP for this character

... again sadly i haven't read the most duke so I'm not sure yet. I got recced Batman and the outsiders for duke and cass we'll see if i like them there

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don't know if I've seen enough Duke fandom discourse know whether my opinions are unpopular or not

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I feel like it was a huge mistake to have duke's parents be too injured/sick/insane from joker venom or whatever to actually talk to him. I wanted to see a Duke and his parents reunion scene I want to see how they react to him and I want to see if he decides to tell them what he's been up to this whole time or not but unless they got cured and I didn't hear about it, we never do

Damian

How I feel about this character

obviously I love him times 1000. he is at the moment my favorite Batfam member (it changes)

Damian is so important to me for many reasons one of which is the gradualness of his character arc which felt extremely realistic, the other is that he's allowed to be a 'messy' non-ideal survivor who is angry and has a hard time adapting to the new situation he finds himself in. that is extremely relatable and important and i feel like his rough intro to the batfam is the entire fucking point. 

but anyway more on the character arc thing: him being able to finally articulate why killing people is wrong and talking suren down from destroying the world with compassion and empathy for his situation in R:SoB is so fucking powerful

i love how in R:SoB and even the start of the teen titans run (first 6 issues) his theme when he sees kids as supervillains is like “okay you are me and i’m helping”. thats part of why i don’t vibe with when the villains in supersons are all kids i’m like lmao you’re telling me damian wouldn’t see a bunch of kids doing evil without trying to talk them down/recruit them? yes he will kick butt if he has to but as he says in R:SoB ‘you can empathize with someone and still have to crush them’

another thing is he is actually extremely compassionate. like any time he's giving gifts he's always so fucking genuine and puts in so much work and he cares so much about his family

I also obviously love his confidence/arrogance (Depending on the time in his characterization whether its genuine confidence or more of arrogance).

All the people I ship romantically with this character

no one because he's like 10-13 in the majority of his appearances.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

So many good ones. A real toss up between Damian and Maya or Damian and Dick.

My unpopular opinion about this character

oof so many i'll try to keep it limited

i really don't vibe with "damian had a bunch of pets even when he was in the league/ was always an animal lover thing" because first of all I like how his reaction to animals and caring of his pets parallels his behavior towards people changing and secondly yes i know goliath exists but I already explained I view that more of as Damian projected majorly on goliath and also like.

I also especially disagree with anyone who acts like he needs to be taken down a notch and tbh it always reads as kind of pathetic to me. like. imagine being threatened by a fictional 10-13 year old.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

if we're retconning things? Retconning that horrible character assassination. should have just retconned it out completely or made it a result of other factors outside his control like brainwashing or smthing rather than trying to be like "oh he did decide to do everything but........"

outside of that

we were robbed when we never got damian suren interactions after damian gets him to stop destroying the world. Like I feel it could have been very cool to see Damian being the "normal" one and trying to help suren figure out how to interact outside murder cults.

[hazerdouswaste]

A way too long and frankly monotonous detailing of how wack the ACV inventory system is:

While convenient and honestly a good system, it's also objectively funny that all of the important stuff goes in one place and all of the stupid useless shit goes in a different place that never gets checked ever because there's no carrying capacity, and really weird shit just keeps accumulating

I walked around for weeks irl with the Really Important Medical Book from Lunden without even realizing the game had me keep it- WHY do I have that on me I specifically made sure it wasn't burned so that Lunden didn't need to go back to "balancing humors" and could use its knowledge (which is just three paragraphs that take up the space of an entire book because I'm choosing to take that at face value and not assume it was shortened for the sake of the game and that all of Lunden's ailments were one of three specific things) then I just fucking walked off with it which means no one in Lunden can actually use it

It took me quite some time as well to figure out I've been casually holding on to the dagger my ally/sort-of-friend used to kill my son because he's obsessed with killing kings or their heirs

Though having an unrealistic quantity of large items isn't uncommon in games, the fact that I have an entire legionaire statue on my person, several bird cages, two compasses with no engravings, thirty three broken bows, five rectangular stones, one wedge of moldy cheese, dozens of other kinds of weird niche items, and no idea why any of these items save for the statue are in the game to begin with cause I sure as hell can't use them is odd because, well, they're completely useless and worth at max probably five sliver each (statue aside, I just thought it was notable that I can walk around with that for months at a time). I wouldn't be surprised if they were put there as an excuse to write flavor text, because flavor text is fun as hell to write when going through the tedious process of making a game. (Having written this all yesterday, I now realize I never even chose to pick up specifically these items because you never know what you're gonna get when you loot something or someone.)

Also as a side note isn't it wonderful how fucking complicated weapon/armor stats are without any instruction as to what anything means? I still have no idea what L-res, H-res, or Eva mean, even having looked them up at one point; as far as I know the only important factors are the first stat, upgrade potential and maybe rune slots

It's also really convenient that in canon, but not visually, I have a boat following me at all times, because otherwise there'd be no explanation for opening my inventory and seeing my 4,600 "supplies" (which have no explainable unit of measurement, I'm assuming I don't have 4,600 crates) and 320 "raw materials" (again, what the hell is the unit of measurement there?) while I'm way to inland to see any of the rivers nearby. And honesty, if basically building a hut from scratch requires 600(?) supplies and 200-300(?) raw materials generally, the boat doesn't exactly have realistic inventory either. Who keeps building supplies in chests anyway? Those chests seem a little bit small...

I want a mod that simulates the noise of all of my dozens of runes, trinkets, scraps of metal, keys, roman artifacts, viper eggs, dead eels, broken gear, shells, dental, silver, and instruments I can't use banging together as I run

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 14 rewatch thoughts, in which there is much ado about Looking

let’s get the most Look heavy out of the way first lol

- the scene of din holding the silver ball is shot from below, like we often get when we’re in baby’s POV because grogu’s almost always gazing up at him. so the camera/audience is looking at him through the child’s eyes still, in a way, just to emphasize the connection even more. h e l p  m e

that firmly established ‘din looks down, baby looks up’ rhythm paying for itself yet again 😭😭😭 also I love the effect that because of the smoke it looks like he’s standing in a serious thunderstorm, while the sky is actually really bright and lit up with only light cloud cover from other angles. it plays into this thing that... this is basically the end of the world for him, and barely anyone else knows or cares. he or the baby never appear in the sequels, din doesn’t have a huge ~*destiny*~ within the Force, his world is so much smaller than what we’re used to in star wars -- his grief at having it come crashing down around him is only a black cloud around him, it doesn’t block out the sun on a galactic scale ala anakin skywalker. he’s not Important. except actually he’s the MOST IMPORTANT, perhaps exactly because of that. (he certainly is to me) y’know? well I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t, I’m not sure I know. but my heart is so full.    

- for a good portion of the scene where din is picking through the ashes of the razor crest (;_____________; still not over it) boba is actually looking at fennec looking at din

more precisely he seems to be looking at her while din is looking at the silver ball, and is looking at din and having some kind of Emotion while din finds the beskar spear

hm. I am now exTREMELY curious to know what boba and fennec’s relationship is actually like in more detail. strictly canonically I’m pretty sure there shouldn’t be enough of an age difference that he could sort of be a father figure, but... there’s something here, some parallells being drawn

the shots of them right before din finds the ball is interesting too -- you have fennec looking at din with a pained flinching sort of sympathy

and then she looks down and glances half towards boba like she’s checking in with him out of the corner of her eyes, but she’s not seeking gaze contact at all, she’s not asking him about anything or even initiating contact (it comes across better in motion but this was the best I could do to show it)

presumably they’ve already decided they’re going to help din, from the matter of fact way they inform him about it right afterwards, but there’s something complicated going on here within fennec at least, I think, it makes me want to know more about her backstory. (boba does look at her when he says they’ll help, and he’s trying to meet her eyes even if she doesn’t reciprocate)

and then at the very end of that scene boba is looking at fennec again, and she’s finally meeting his eyes and they both seem pretty satisfied and pleased (I guess doing the right thing has not necessarily figured hugely in either of their careers lol)   

sideline but boba has so many excellent Stances in this episode, it’s wonderful. he looks so steady and grounded

- also boba and fennec are close enough that the smoke actually affects their point of view for now and darkens their world too. how’s that for a metaphor for empathy hahaha 

- it’s actually quite sweet of boba to take the time to explain his own state of mandalorian-ness to din, like he’s at least eliminating the one source of uncertainty and tension that it’s in his power to remove haha  

(I wonder if he’s also gauging din’s reaction to the concept of foundlings? I’ve seen some people theorize that it might not be a recognized tradition across all of mandalorian space (then again... what even is, the only true mandalorian trait is accusing someone else of not being mandalorian right) and that it was one of the apples of cultural discord in the civil wars)

- the whole journey boba’s face goes on as he watches din with the spear... I do not understand what it is exactly but I am OBSESSED with it, his eyes are doing some things and it makes my heart feel funny

he pretty quickly glances away with a sharp inhale of breath that’s some shade of ‘well. fuck.’, but I can’t quite tell you exactly what’s going on there haha

- okay so honestly -- maybe we find a force user to train the baby and maybe we don’t, but not having din be an active part of that training either way would be a fucking CRIME. din clearly just has so much fun being able to engage with him like that, as does the baby, and it gets results. if someone shows up to help with this I hope they have the insight and flexibility to understand that. (listen to baby’s excited squeal and din’s breath of laughter before he encourages ‘come on, you can do it’! it’s consistently the most engaged and happy we see din and baby obviously feels safe doing this with him when he doesn’t with anyone else, come ON)

- the soft soft mando and baby music kicking in when din gives grogu the silver ball back and tells him he’s special T_______T oh my actual god  

- I love the way boba’s just... studying din all the way through their first meeting, it’s such a look of cold, dispassionate but not necessarily unkind evaluation. that’s the gaze of a bird of prey or something, it’s perfect (his eyes have softened significantly when looking at din towards the end of the episode, I guess that whole father son situation hit a tender spot huh lol)

- din’s shoulders rise up immediately when fennec starts talking about the bounty on grogu :’)

it also seems he’s a little 😬 about being in such a hurry back in chapter 5 that he missed that she wasn’t actually, y’know, dead haha, he slumps a bit uncomfortably and there’s also the “I owe you one” later on

- oh to have the utter yet unwarranted confidence of this storm trooper behind a minigun, still blasting away as the boulder crushes me

- I want to say something to gideon about what sorts of things a man must be compensating for to take the time to gleefully gloat at AN ACTUAL BABY, but thankfully I’m way too classy for that

- fennec shand using her entire strong but slender sniper’s frame to push that boulder off the cliff... poetry

I love that one pose she does jumping backwards off the stones at one point too, it’s so graceful, she looks like a dancer

- this entire scene of boba fett fucking eliminating storm trooper after storm trooper is doing some stuff to me, I can’t lie

it’s so AWESOME to see a mando interact with their armour in the same natural and expert way as din -- bo katan & co didn’t really have that many surprises and tricks to theirs, it’s more sleekly functional, boba and din’s have a different feeling to them, more personal to them and lived in, in a way (probably because they work alone much more often and need some tricks up their sleeves)

bo katan’s armour is for War and has been for generations, theirs is more just to Live as themselves? does that make any sense?   

- I wonder what it feels like for din to try to push through the force barrier - he’s making sounds not just of exertion but with a little bit of pain to it?

- I really like that when boba says “I was aiming for the other one” fennec clearly knows he’s not joking, she doesn’t smile or anything. it makes it feel like they actually know each other quite well at this point

- grogu makes small sleeping baby noises when he’s passed out on top of the stone Y____________Y  

- genuinely touched by how much better boba’s armour looks in the next episode, after him having it back for like a week max. LOVE what this show does with the relationship between a mandalorian and their armour and how it’s almost a living thing when it’s with them, and dead when it’s taken away

- the way boba leans forward a little in his seat when he spots the big ship *chef kiss* it so instinctively reads as him watching something dangerous, and after seeing the way he went through all those troopers like a hot knife through butter you fucking KNOW that if he’s unsettled you’re damn well unsettled too haha

[dutchdread]

What is Love? Baby don't hurt me.

This article sets out to define different types of love in a meaningful way, and argue why the specifics surrounding Aerith and Cloud makes it so that the commonly accepted romantic version of the emotion can't apply. __________________________________________________

Whenever you talk to anyone, it's important to be on the same page, and one of the most important parts about that is making sure that you're speaking the same language. I am sure we've all had moments where we were arguing with someone only to discover that you both believed the exact same thing, but that you simply used a different word to describe said thing.

"That's what I've been saying" "No, that's what I've been saying!" "Well what are we even arguing about then?!"

When that happens, you're not arguing about the topic itself, you're arguing about semantics, about language.

An argument about whether or not what Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith felt for each other would fall under "love" is a debate about language, not FFVII, and I am not here to have a conversation about language. Unfortunately, before I can actually have a conversation about FFVII, a conversation about language is apparently needed.

Love is an incredibly broad term, used to express what we feel about our family, our pets, our friends, our "lovers", and even our favorite songs, weather, and food. So why the hell do we ask "who did Cloud love" as if love is some singular binary system?

I can never prove that what a character feels isn't love, I can only assert that I personally wouldn't use the word "love" to describe said feeling, and explain why I wouldn't. When we ask "does Cloud love Tifa or Aerith", we are presupposing a concept of "love", and asking who it applies to.

"I pity you, you just don't get it at all, there is nothing I don't cherish"

But it applies to both, and it applies to Barret, and Marlene, and Denzel, and everyone. Because love is far too broad a term to start with, it's a catch-all. Instead of starting with a preconception of what love is, and seeing who has it, we should describe what people actually have, and see what their individuals shapes of love look like.

Even so, I will do my best to describe what I mean by romantic love, as opposed to a crush, or infatuation, or attraction, so that when I say "Cloud and Aerith don't (and can't) romantically love each other", that it's clear what that assertion means to me.

I'm going to tell you a story, a story that, admittedly, doesn't make me look good, but which will hopefully provide context for what I think love is and why.

When I was younger I wasn't the most popular kid, back then I assumed I was unattractive, as an adult I realize its because I was socially awkward as fuck (I was actually cute as heck if I do say so myself). However, by the time I got to highschool I had made a best friend and had managed to figure out and fake social conventions enough that I could at the very least solve my issues through humor instead of violence. The change from typical village kids to a wider pool of potential friends also enabled me to finally find people who were more like me. Even so, the whole social outcast part was still ingrained deeply enough in me that I was mostly putting on an act in front of people, saying whatever I needed to say in order to get a certain reaction, in order to be liked, rather than just being myself. I had had crushes before, when you're alone it's easy to really fall for someone, and hell, I was always a sucker when it came to love stories, but my childhood had basically left me too nervous that I'd say the wrong thing to ever actually say the right thing when I really liked a girl. However, generally being the life of the party left me with a string of girlfriends I didn't care too much about. Even so, I eventually met a girl that I was instantly smitten with, the most attractive girl I knew and somehow I managed to start dating her, and hell, I even thought I loved her. I dated said girl for several years, but without going into spoilers I'll just say that I left that relationship pretty jaded and and disillusioned with the concept of love. I felt like I had done everything I could and love in general was bullshit and was honestly pretty done with women in general. Ironically my new pessimistic attitude made me much more successful with women than I had ever been before, by that time I was known as someone who was fun to party with, and unlike the majority of people my age I was in incredible shape and still had all my hair. However, while I enjoyed my newfound popularity there was a part of me that really resented it because I realized that what women seemed to react positively to wasn't what I imagined love to be like and I hated that. I hated that when I used to be kind and filled with notions of "true love" no one was interested, but now that I was disinterested and clearly manipulative women seemed to throw themselves at me. During that time I basically stopped looking for a meaningful relationship and just decided to have fun until my life would, inevitably, fall apart.

Eventually though I got a girlfriend who I didn't deserve and was much too good for me. However, when I did I was no longer interested in building a relationship and I was pretty certain that it would eventually fall apart anyway like everything else. As a result I mainly cared about what I could get from her, I didn't act like a proper partner and I when I thought about "fixing the relationship" I was thinking mostly about what she could do to be a better girlfriend, honestly, part of me actually resented her for not being my ex. When talking about our issues the general terms were "I'll do this, but only if you fix that". Without going into details, the general gist is that we had a horrible start to our relationship and that affected everything that came after it.

Eventually though this girl who I once mainly saw as just another temporary part of my life became something more to me, she became a more complete person. I mellowed out, and started appreciating her more, I decided to get us to work on the relationship but the damage was basically already done. She'd given up on me ever wanting to settle down and had started distancing herself from me emotionally and eventually I became sick of fighting for the relationship by myself and we broke up. Afterwards, free of pressure, I sat back and l evaluated what I wanted in life, I thought about myself, and her, REALLY thought about her. The good parts, and the bad. And I realized that all the things I was annoyed about were honestly absurd. I decided I was going to fight for her, not just "try to fix the relationship" by figuring out what worked and what didn't, but I just decided I was going to properly appreciate her, be the best boyfriend I could be, and not ask for anything in return. And let me tell you, that change in mindset changed EVERYTHING for me. Within months I became absolutely smitten with her, when I first started the relationship I was honestly annoyed if we met up and didn't have sex, now just sitting on the couch under a blanket with her became the highlight of days, even the things I once saw as negatives became a precious part of the puzzle that made her her. My biggest regret in life is still that I couldn't be the person she made me back when I first met her. (and concerning looks, she is honestly so much more gorgeous than the ex it's not even funny, how did I not see that?). The point of all this is that love isn't automatic, it's not something that happens without your consent, it's the result of actions, of decisions. When you choose to take the time to look at your significant other, and soak up and appreciate who they are and what they do, when you put in the effort, that's when love grows. I've gone from being sick and tired of someone I had been with for years, to being absolutely infatuated with them, simply by making a decision. I could not have made that decision had I not been myself, that decision would have been false. Looking back, all those earlier girls I've been infatuated with, that wasn't love, I didn't even know who they were, I barely knew who I was. No matter how much passion I felt in the moment, no matter how much fun I had in the times we spent together, now I don't even remember their names.

Love isn't your heart beating faster, it's not that instinctive nervousness that comes with talking to a cute girl you just met. It's a complete and deep appreciation of a person, un understanding of who you are, who they are, and what that means to you. Love is what I feel for my brother, who is as much a part of me as my own arm, without whom I would not be me. Someone who isn't just another person in your life, but is a part of what you consider to be your life, without them your life could not be the same, because they're an absolutely crucial part of it. That doesn't happen in a week, because you can't really learn who someone is in a week, even if you could see all of it, you couldn't internalize it. You can always imagine living without them, because you were, just last week. There are people who meet their soulmates sure, and say they knew within a week, but had they never seen that soulmate again, they would not still be pretending they were "the one" years later, and if they were, their friends wouldn't be saying "that's love", they'd be saying "that's an unhealthy obsession". Cloud and Aerith barely knew each other, both when it comes to time, as well as to how much they actually knew about each other. Cloud had no idea of who he was or what was important to him in life, he was unable to be honest with others or even himself, so how would he ever be able to meaningfully make an informed decision to make the kind of emotional commitment that's the cornerstone of love? He didn't know himself, nor did he know Aerith, to whose feelings he was canonically oblivious and whose entire life was a mystery to Cloud. How can we say that Soldier Cloud is capable of knowing who he loves when he's not even aware of the the gigantic Tifa shaped area of his identity. Can Soldier Cloud determine what he values and why without the knowledge of what he's gone through in his life? Sure, but can Soldier Cloud make that determination for the real one? No. Soldier Cloud, and his emotions, have no relation to that of the real Cloud. The real Cloud must determine what people mean to him all by himself. And when it comes to real Cloud, it is pretty obvious who is the biggest part of his life, the person who defined it from the time he fell for her as kid, right through when he became a soldier to impress her, and up to and past the moment he started raising children with her. For Cloud it's pretty obvious who he has the deep personal understanding with, the girl who filled his sub-conscious, and was literally in his head with him, the girl who is stated to understand him best, and who has a shared story with him, having experienced both the good, and the bad, alongside him. Who was there with him when he was a child, who was there with him in Nibleheim, who found him when he lost his identity and gave him a new one, who was with him when Aerith died, who was with him when he broke, who was with him when he was catatonic, who was with him and helped him find himself again, who was with him during the last night underneath the highwind, who was with him at the end in the north cave, who he started living with afterwards, who waited patiently while he went to find himself, and welcomed him back with a smile. I am sure Cloud liked Aerith....but he LOVES Tifa.

[gabrieldrawsstuff]

Aight fellas, I'm doing a list of canon descriptions of dw characters for future reference, might do a second part with more minor characters

SPOILER ALERT OBV

STRANGER

-THE JOURNAL : "Somehow I'm wearing a coat, so I must've changed my clothes on my way here. I don't recognize myself anymore. I can barely hold this pencil. Has my body changed?"

-DOCTOR : "I see you haven't regained your speech. You need to find another doctor."

-SNAIL : "Your face... What happened to you?

The snail's jaw falls so low, it almost detaches itself from the rest of the body.

You scared me... You barely resemble a human... You should cover yourself..."

SNAIL : "You're so ugly, I feel like puking... You barely resemble a human being..."

THE CRIPPLE : "You, lad. You've got your hands and legs. Strong arms. I beg you!"

MAMA ELEPHANT : "Can't you speak? Did someone take away your voice?"

MAMA ELEPHANT : "Your gob looks like that because of this fiendish air, do you know? I bet you can't speak, because you didn't keep your mouth shut when walking through the woods."

MAMA ELEPHANT : "(...) I know you want something, you leper demon."

MUSHROOM GRANNY : "(...) But you're young and strong."

CHICKEN LADY : "Whaddaya need, poor soul? Hungry, eh? I'd give ya some stew, but what good will it do?"

(I think in polish version it was closer to 'how will you eat it' although I can't be sure)

MIRROR : "You are one ugly bastard. I guess you got what you deserved."

MUSICIAN : "This is our doctor, yes? He is just as brave and good as you are!"

MUSICIAN : "You're not af-fraid of anything!"

WOLFMAN : "Even from afar I can smell your putrid stench. Be glad I don't have an appetite for carcasses, Meat"

WOLFMAN : (after the church dream sequence) "Meat, what's with the big eyes? Hehe... Scared?"

WOLFMAN : (when you nod to a question if you're making a joke of him) "You're a brave piece of meat... and what's more important, one with a sense of humor. 

WOLFMAN : "Are you pretending to be human, or are you just cracking jokes?"

WOLFMAN : "You look tired, Meat. Busy night?"

WOLFMAN : "Have fun, Meat... Just remember to hide that disaster of a face or it's no dancing for you"

WOLFMAN : (when you spare the sow) "My heart sings with joy when I see such selfless kindness. Tell me the truth, Meat. It was you, wasn't it?"

vvvvv

TRADER

-A man, roughly my size, is standing before me.

I can barely make out his disturbingly familiar features through the matte visor of his helmet...

The massive helmet is covered with an old sack and seems to be an integral part of the unnaturally pale body.

-The man reaches out to me with his black hand. It's covered in charcoal... There's something written on his worn, woolen glove.

-Visibly struggling, the man drops the sack from his back and bends in half, as if out of breath. He shakes the dust off his clothes, then rolls up the sleeve of his, seemingly too small, jacket. 

-The old sack covering his body slides down, revealing his chest, covered in horrid growths. It is fused with a porous helmet, pulsating to the rhythm of his breath.

vvvvv

WOLFMAN

THE JOURNAL: "If I'm not delusional, the man whom I met... had the head of a wolf."

FIRST ENCOUNTER: The figure hides its face under the hood. It smells of wet soil and fur.

WOLFMAN: "(...)I barely believe my beautiful eyes... (...) The Wolf smiles, revealing a row of sharp teeth.

AT BARN RUINS: The Wolf makes a quick leap and, bouncing against me with his swollen belly, he puts his paws on my shoulders. He ostentatiously licks his face. (...)

-I notice fresh bloodstains on his fur and feel streaks of his saliva dripping onto my coat. 

-The Wolf takes two steps back. I can only see a row of filthy, sharp teeth underneath his hood.

-The Wolf squeezes my arms and starts licking my face. Once from the left side, once from the right side. (...) His breath stinks of rot.

WOLFMAN: "Thanks to you I feel fulfilled! I got my girl, my sweet little lady back."

-Suddenly the Wolf sends me back with a powerful push and reaches into his coat pocket.

WOLFMAN: "(...) and then nothing wil keep you from getting the fuck out of my part of the woods! Do you get me, Meat? You will pack your bags, dive into that stinking hole of yours and dissa-fucking-pear!"

-Finally he snorts, his thick, yellow spit landing on the photo.

-The Wolf grabs the box and starts sniffing it from every angle. I could swear I've heard his tail moving under his coat.

WOLFMAN: "And what am I supposed to do with it? Bite it until it opens? Your brain must be rotting if you think I will break my fangs for this shit."

WOLFMAN: "An electronic game, eh? About a wolf stealing chicken eggs... hehehe. Good one!I've a soft spot for games, how about you?"

-As I produce the key, the Wolf's pupils widen with excitement.

WOLFMAN: (about villagers) "Those selfish, deceitful wretches! They think they're superior, because they have human gobs. They treat us like lepers! But you know what? Fuck them. We're buddies, aren't we? And them? They deserve to be punished, Meat..."

-The Wolf pierces me with his look and grins. A string of saliva lands on his hole-riddled jacket.

-The Wolf puts his paw on me. I can feel his claws puncturing my skin.

WOLFMAN: (about piotrek) "Meat! Fucking hell, seen that? Hahaha! Seen that? Hahaha! Off he flew, didn't he? OFF HE FUCKED!!! Hahahaha!"

WOLFMAN: "If you wish to spend some more quality time basking in the striking, yet natural beauty of my features before you head off to the Silent Forest, you will find me in my camp in the Dry Meadow."

vvvvv

DOCTOR

THE JOURNAL: "What I do know is that the insane fucker took my key. My only chance to get out of the woods. He also tore out all the pages from my journal."

THE JOURNAL: "The doctor has escaped. So be it. He would only be a hindrance anyway."

CHICKEN LADY: "My sisters! Where did ya find it? It's all that godless quack's fault - devil brought him! All he did was prescribe this and that, scribble this no-good drivel! To hell with them papers!"

-I can feel the doctor's cold hand grab me by the jaw, (...)

-He removes his dirty glasses with a trembling hand and freezes.

DOCTOR: "First they begged for help, now I need to hide from them! I'm just an ordinary doctor! How the fuck was I supposed to help them?! How?!"

-With shaking hands, he reaches for the cigarrete butt between his yellow teeth.

DOCTOR: "I used to come here to treat people. I pulled out kids' milk teeth, delivered babies... (...) Last time I came here was three or four years ago. Then the trees blocked the path."

-The Doctor is visibly pleased with himself and his theory. His hands are no longer trembling. He produces a hand-rolled cigarette and lights it.

DOCTOR: "(...) I have no idea where it leads. I'm a shitty diver. (...)"

-The Doctor stares right into my eyes. Mud drips from his face. He hasn't blinked in over a minute.

- (...)His glasses are so dirty, I barely see the eyes hiding underneath.

-A chunk of mud falls down on his exposed tongue. He chews it slowly and swallows with satisfaction.

-The Doctor puts the muddy hand into his mouth, grimaces and pulls out a yellow tooth. He puts it into the pocket of his torn trousers. The tooth falls through a hole. He does not notice this...

-Slowly he bends down and grabs a thick branch from the ground. He starts biting the bark off of it. He swallows the bark with an effort, but also great satisfaction. He places the stick among other ones sticking out of his mud-covered head.

WOLFMAN: "Well, well. I know this quack. A nonentity, a third-rate witch doctor. Useless fucking clunker... But he still managed to screw you over with that key. Eh, comrade?"

MUSICIAN: "This is our doctor, yes? He is just as brave and good as you are! He helped me. He is helping all of us! He gave me this beautiful mask, so I could be healed of my afllictions. Maybe you could have one too..."

vvvvv

vvvvv

MUSICIAN

THE JOURNAL: "I met a boy in the village. He told me that the "Chicken Lady" keeps the "Pretty Lady" locked in her house. The boy really wants to see her, but the old woman won't allow it."

THE JOURNAL: "I decided to give the key to Chicken Lady's room to the little boy. He thanked me and asked me to bring him his mom's violin (it's hidden behind the wardrobe). He's afraid to go himself, as his parents are supposedly angry with him."

THE JOURNAL: "The boy sure was happy to see the new violin. (...)The kid also told me I should visit him in his parent's home someday."

CHICKEN LADY: (after musician's death) "Maybe it's just that me ears are getting worse, but it's been a while since I've heard that monster outside me windows..."

CHICKEN LADY: "Holy Mother, this creep again! May the devil take him and his blasted violin!"

MUSICIAN: "The Pretty Lady? S-she's... the most beautiful lady in the w-world! I w-watch her through the cracks in the window. S-she ch-changes when I watch her... g-gets more beautiful. I p-play for her... I want her to be h-happy..."

MUSICIAN: "I fished out the Pretty Lady's w-wreath from the river! (...)Oh yes, I will become the Pretty L-lady's husband! We w-will walk hand in hand, s-sir. I will play for her, mister s-sir."

-A skinny little hand emerges from beneath the tractor and grabs me by the ankle.

MUSICIAN: "They will not l-listen to me, they w-won't hear how sad I am, sir..."

-One of the strings securing his mask falls off, together with his ear. The boy reattaches it as if nothing happened.

MUSICIAN: "My m-mom has this beautiful violin! I would ask her to b-borrow it to me, but she's too angry with me... Could you p-please c-convince her to b-borrow it to me? I'll g-give you a card with drawings for her. To apologize."

-The boy turns the game in his hand for a while, but he can't find a way to reach the buttons with his overgrown fingers. The game slips out of his hand and drops to the ground. The wannabe musician freezes.

MUSICIAN: "(...) maybe you could take a wee piece of... m-meat for me? I've never eaten a pig and I've h-heard it's very tasty! W-would you take s-some for me?"

-The boy sniffles and rubs the mask with his deformed hand.

-From beneath the mask you can hear a horribly distorted, resounding voice... of a child?

-The figure tries to turn its head, but its enormous neck makes this task impossible to complete.

MUSICIAN: "P-please let me stay. P-please, don't chase me off. I've got nowhere to... go. The villagers don't a-a-allow me to live in the camp. I p-p-promise I won't p-play anymore! I'll be quiet. You can c-cover me with something, if you don't w-want to look at m-me..."

MUSICIAN: (after gifting you a rat) "(...) I mean, she jumped on my hand and s-started nibbling on my f-finger! I quickly clasped my h-hand and b-bit through its neck!"

-The corners of the boy's mouth turn up in a grotesque smile, exposing rows of overgrown teeth, which even his mask couldn't hide.

-The boy clumsily grabs the ball in his hand. He carefully hides it under his legs, so that it doesn't roll away.

MUSICIAN: "S-sorry! I didn't want to! T-this thing is coming out of m-my body. I... I tried to stop it, but I don't think I can... N-now the whole room is covered with... this. I didn't want to make a mess, I s-swear! Please, don't t-throw me a-away!"

-The boy leans over the violin lying next to his overgrown left hand. He plucks one of the strings with his right hand, clumsily trying to keep the rhythm.

MUSICIAN: "Recently, I've grown quite a bit. My mom always used to say that I need to be b-big and s-strong... to help her out in the field..."

The boy tries to hug his frail knees with the disproportionately massive torso.

"But I... I don't want to be big anymore. It's v-very hard being big. You need to be so... so strong! To even walk.Now my v-violin is... too s-small for me!"

vvvvv

vvvvv

[anotheronechicagobog]

Bulletproofness and Playing God Jay Halstead x reader

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

requested by @confusedpimp​, I hope you like it!

warnings: swearing, addiction, Hannah Asher is NOT porprayed well in this you have been warned, malpractice, emergency c-section complications, involves Chicago Med episode ‘Do No Harm’, police being idiots and assholes, warrants served incorrectly, drugs, drug dealers, bad neighbourhood created by systematic oppression and gentrification, Will is a prick with issues, and canon compliant violence

A/N: I am very sympathetic and supportive of people who have addictions because not only are there a tone of genetic factors that weigh in on it, but environmental factors that most people have very little to no control over. That being said, I am strongly against people with addictions working in healthcare, first responding, and/or law enforcement who spend most of their time with vulnerable people who don’t have much of a choice about whether to trust them or not. If someone works in an area where they have someone’s life in their hands they cannot be addicted to a substance that will control their ability to make judgements, affect how/their ability to work, and function as a whole.

In the past eight months, a warrant has been served to your apartment twenty-one times. You haven’t done anything wrong, the name on the warrants was always for your upstairs neighbour, did this make being woken up and the fucking crack of dawn and being interrogated (sometimes arrested) any easier? Not even a fucking bit. So you weren’t surprised when at 3:28 am, your door was busted open (again), heard shouts of “Chicago PD!” (again), and heard your house being “cleared” (again). You groaned and sat up, holding your hands up. Your bedroom door was thrown open with a bang. “I am unarmed, Marcus Evans lives in the apartment upstairs, and I have no association to him.” In the blandest voice possible, you recited the statement the legal aid at your university wrote you. “Uh... Sorry? Hey, Sarg, I think I’ve figured out why there were so many unsuccessful warrants on this place.” The blonde man was still pointing a gun at your head, but more members of his unit came to surround him.   

“Can I put my hands down now? I have documents that prove I am innocent, that the warrant was served to the wrong address, again, and that the only connection I have to Marcus Evans is that he is my annoying upstairs neighbour.”

They all sheepishly looked at you. The Latina woman spoke up, “the apartment is clear of anything even remotely illegal. Well, aside from the power lines attached to her box outside that show that her neighbours have been stealing power and internet from her.”

‘Sarg’, an older man with silver hair with a surprised look on his face nodded. “Alright, put ‘em down and get us the papers.”

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Despite all the evidence that the warrant wasn’t meant for you, they still insisted on taking you down to the station. You refused since they couldn’t arrest you and had no grounds to hold you on, and Sergeant Voight did not like that. “I’m too tired to give a shit about what you want. I have three jobs, student loans, and university to deal with. The only things of value in my apartment are my crappy laptop and internet access. The only time I am ever here is to sleep. You already disturbed what little sleep I was able to get, and I have work in... Forty-five minutes. Just great. Please leave, and can one of you, for the love of all things holy put a note in the system that this is NOT Marcus Evans’ apartment?!” Everyone flinched at your outburst, all looking both sympathetic and annoyed except for Detective Halstead, he just looked very sad for you. “Of course,” he said as he handed you a business card, “if you could call me when you have time, we have some pretty important questions.” Sargent Voight shot him a look, one that clearly said ‘what the fuck are you doing? That’s not your call.’ “Okay. Now seriously, please leave.” Irritated and muttering under their breath, barring Halstead who gave you a smirk and a wink, they all left stepping over the splinters of the door you replaced three weeks before.

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The next day after entering your sparsely decorated apartment, dropping dead on your bed/couch, you heard the distinctive sounds of a door being broken down, followed by the police announcing themselves, and an apartment being searched... Above yours. They finally got the right apartment! Despite the ache in your muscles and bones, you jumped up and cheered. Complete and utter elation surrounded you and your soul. A few minutes into your dancing and celebrating there was a knock on the door. Smiling brighter than you had in years you answered the door. “Good morning detective!”

“Well, good morning to you too, Ms. Y/L/N. You’re in a much better mood.”

“To be fair, you guys busted into my apartment at three in the morning, again, and I just heard everything that happened upstairs, you guys finally got the right apartment!”

“Hey, we never served more than one warrant here.”

“Your unit only served one, but your brothers in blue served twenty-one. Destroying property, unlawful arrest, causing severe anxiety, and just general harassment for eight months. The only reason I didn’t move was because I couldn’t afford to. I’m just happy it’s over now, I’ll never have a  Marcus Evans warrant served at my apartment again!” Halstead looked happy when you opened the door and your conversation began, but when you finally took a breath you noticed how guilty he looked. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, looking like he was in physical pain, before he nodded at you and walked away, leaving you feeling incredibly confused.

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

Two days later you returned from two ten-hour shifts to Jay Halstead in front of your door. “Detective?”

“Please, call me Jay.”

“Alright, Jay, what are you doing here? Is everything okay with Marcus’s arrest?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine with that. I came here because of this.” He handed you a large manilla envelope. “What’s this?”

“Compensation. For everything that happened over the last eight months. And apartment listings in better neighbourhoods. Seriously, you need to get out of here, it’s way too dangerous.”

“Thanks for the advice, and the compensation, I’ll think about it. But it just might not be doable for me.”

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

You couldn’t afford to move, something that irked Jay to no end. So he came around often. Dropping by with coffee and Irish breakfasts. Sharing his Netflix password and watching B99 together. Driving you home from work or university when it was late. The days grew shorter, and your hours of work grew longer. Jay worried. About you. About the number of hours you worked. About how much university work you had. About your health, how much (or little, really) you slept and ate, how you didn’t see the doctor as often you should (ironic considering you were in med school), and about how you never took time to relax, always jumping from one task to the next. 

You slumped against the passenger seat of Jay’s truck, exhausted after working for thirty hours straight, ten at each of your jobs. “Okay, seriously, you can’t keep living like this. I have a spare room, I can get you a civilian job at my precinct. You are wearing yourself to the bone. Please, Y/N.”

“I get my residency assignment tomorrow. I quit today.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“All three.”

“And you’ll move out of your apartment?”

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’. Jay sighed and shook his head, before looking at your half-asleep form. “I’ll take you to the shithole you call a home.”

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

TWO YEARS LATER

Jumping up and down you waited for Jay to open the door. The envelopes sitting on his coffee table glaring at you. You flopped onto his couch (that didn’t also double as a bed) and huffed impatiently. Fidgeting.

The door opened and you jumped up, startling your best friend. His cop/ranger instincts taking over. He stiffly dropped his jacket and yanked out his gun before aiming it for your head. Panic coursed through you, tightening your chest. Reflexively you put up your hands, not able to control the words that bubbled out of your throat. “I’m bulletproof... But please don’t shoot me.” Jay lowered his gun, laughing. “‘Bulletproof’? Really?”

“Hey, I panicked, shut up.”

“What’re you doing here, anyway? I thought you were taking another shift?”

“I was, but then Sarah’s plans fell through so she decided to take her shift back, plus I got my fellowship applications back!”

“Where did you get accepted?!”

“I don’t know I was waiting for you to get back to open them!”

“Well I’m here now, so open them!” 

“Okay, okay, here we go; Honolulu general, accepted, Seattle Grace, no, but they had a bomb blow up there recently so I’m not heartbroken, Chicago med, yes, and Miami Dade Memorial, yes. Okay 3/4, that’s great! What do you think?”

“Well I’m biased, so Chicago Med, but it would be fun to visit you in Hawaii.” 

“Hawaii is so expensive though, I’d probably have to have a part-time job to make rent.”

“In a decent apartment this time.”

“Two part-time jobs, then. So Hawaii is out, now Miami... It is hot there, beaches, the ocean, the food, but Miami Dade Memorial isn’t very prominent in the research department and the crime rate is awful in the part I’d need to live and work in. I mean I know isn’t a whole lot better but... It would feel a bit like moving from bad to worse, especially on my budget.”

“So that leaves Chicago...”

“It does, but I think I need to find a new place that’s closer to Med and filled with less dug dealers.”

“Please tell me this was a subtle way of asking if you can move in with me.”

“It wasn’t, but now that you bring it up, would that be okay?”

“YES! Oh thank fuck, you’re finally moving out of that rat’s nest! C’mon, let’s go get your stuff now!”

“But Jay I just paid this month’s rent-“

“Let’s gooooooooooo!”

——————————————————————————————————-

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Because your apartment was in such a “great location” (in the same building as three drug dealers) your landlord was willing to give half of your rent back. It had only taken you twenty-something minutes to pack your things and leave. Now you were starting your surgical OB/GYN fellowship, excited to not be working multiple jobs at once for the first time since you were twelve. While Jay’s brother, Will, worked at Med as well he worked in the ED while you worked in the gynecology unit and you were thankful you only had to work together for consults or in an all hands on deck situation because he could be a fucking prick. When you first met him years ago he spent two hours quizzing your medical knowledge, and he got annoyed when you got everything right and he couldn’t correct you. So when you got a consult from him your first week there, you were apprehensive. “Hey Y/N, treatment room four.”

“Thanks, Maggie.” You pushed back the curtain and were met with the sight of a pregnant woman clearly in immense pain and a frustrating ginger. “Dr. Asher is her OB but we can’t find her anywhere. She was on-call but I, and a couple of nurses, and her secretary have been blowing up her phone and we’ve got nothing back. This is her patient Sienna. She’s in a lot of pain but is refusing painkillers, you’ve been working with her a lot lately-“ You snorted. His facial expression hardened. “Just come out and say it Y/L/N.”

“First of all it’s doctor Y/L/N, second of all, I haven’t been ‘working’ with her, I’ve been taking care of ‘her’ patients because she’s almost never at work. She just cancels the appointments short notice and since these women are kind of on a timeline their appointments get reassigned to other doctors. She’s listed as their doctor on all the forms but she’s never even met half of them. Sienna is the only patient that Dr. Asher has seen more than once.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that, you don’t know-“

“That she’s an addict? The entire OB floor knows we just don’t have enough proof to do anything about it. And don’t get me wrong, I know that there’s a lot of genetic components to addiction and I would be sympathetic if she wasn’t responsible for multiple lives at a time on a daily basis.” You turned on your heel and entered the room, done with Will Halstead and his bullshit. “Hi Sienna, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be filling in for Dr. Asher, I understand that you don’t want any drugs and while that’s fine, if your condition gets bad enough we may have to intervene but we’ll do everything we can for you and your baby, okay?”

“Where’s Dr. Asher? I need her here, she understands!”

“Okay, we’re still trying to find her okay?”

—————————————————————————————————

“So I heard that you and my brother locked horns today.”

“Your brother is a prick.”

“I know that he is, I’m just wondering what happened this time.”

“He’s doing this weird ethical-puppy love-guilt trippy-Romeo and Juliet level of doomed-unnecessary drama-thing going on and it’s completely affecting how he treats his patients. We already had one loose cannon we couldn’t disarm, now we have another. It’s come to the point that I’m genuinely worried about the patients that come into Med, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, I wish there was something I could do.”

“Just try not to antagonize Will, okay? He’s more on edge and that makes him erratic, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t make it worse.”

“Okay. I’ll leave him alone.”

“Thank you. I’m starving, what should we do for dinner?”

“Vietnamese is on the way.”

“Have I told you how amazing you are today?”

“Yes, but I would love to hear it again.”

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

Dr. Asher’s medical negligence had finally caught up with her, and for once Will wasn’t even remotely involved. He and Asher were having one of their silent spats again when Asher dropped the ball, or baby rather, during an emergency c-section of a patient she misdiagnosed and mistreated because she was in need of a fix. The only reason the mother didn’t hemorrhage and baby didn’t crack his skull was because of your observations and quick reflexes. The baby was healthy and mom was recovering and you were fuming. After scrubbing out you approached the, understandably distressed, father and told him that on your best medical opinion he and his wife should file a malpractice suit for missing an easy and obvious diagnosis, screwing up a routine surgery, and almost killing his son seconds after he was born.

You met with him, his lawyer and Asher two days later in a conference room with Goodwin and Peter the Stressed Out Lawyer. You accused her of having an addiction. The father requested a drug test. Goodwin glared, you glared back. If she didn’t want it handled like this then she should have dealt with it months ago when you brought it up your second week at Med. She tried to approach you in the hall, condescension on the tip of her tongue when you levelled her with a glare so fierce it rivalled that of Godzilla. “You do not get to scold me like I am a child. I told you when I first got here that she has a problem. That she is a danger to everyone who comes into her care. That she is a danger to other doctors. That she is a liability. Do not bitch to me when I told a husband and father who almost his wife and son to her recklessness to sue. To get angry and fight back. Do not take that petty, catty, condescending tone with me because I went around you. You have absolutely no ground to stand on. Because. You. Were. Wrong.”

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

You were surprised you had a job to come back to the next day. So was a very pissed off and ‘heartbroken’ Will Halstead. He kept running around to your colleagues, badmouthing you, trying to get them to join in and turn on you, but that didn’t happen. They not only agreed with you but rallied around you. Doctors are not gods. They do not get to ignore a patient’s wishes or act like they don’t have restrictions and limitations. It came to the point that Will told Jay he didn’t approve of you and that he had to dump you... Despite the fact that you weren’t dating.

Jay had rolled his eyes and pushed Will out of the apartment before giving you a hug and made you pancakes for dinner. “I’m sorry that I messed up your relationship with Will.”

“Don’t be. We’re brothers, we fight from time to time, and sometimes those fights are bigger than others and that’s okay. Will, well Halsteads in general, are pretty good at torpedoing any and all romantic relationships.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“My parents only got married cause my mom got knocked up and fought non-stop, Will was and still is in love with Natalie but he was too controlling, secretive, and refused to tell her about Burke, and me... Lindsay and I were on a break before we left because my Vegas wife refused to divorce me and I didn’t tell her I had even been to Vegas.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s a little true, but it’s not because you’re bad people or  Even just saying ‘yes there’s something going on but I don’t feel ready to talk about it with you’ would go a long way. Cause all you Halstead guys say is that you’re fine but you never are and if you lie to yourself you lie to your partner.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And tell Will when his head is surgically removed from Asher’s ass. You’ve seen that he follows her around like a puppy, right?”

“Yup, everyone on the OB floor has been talking about it nonstop since he started his whatever it was with Asher.”

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

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Because of the suit, the hospital conducted an internal investigation in relation to Dr. Asher that pretty much everyone could confirm. Erratic behaviour and attendance, leaving other doctors to tend to her patients while keeping her name on the case files, and horrifying evidence of being high while working. Granted that had only happened twice and she literally just sat in her office staring at paperwork the whole time. Still, she was fired, the suit was settled, and Asher lost her license. You had destroyed her career and while there was a part of you that felt guilty, you knew that in the end she did the right thing. She refused help and kept carrying on in a way that would have been detrimental to more patients if other doctors hadn’t stepped in. Will still wasn’t talking to you and had started avoiding Jay recently because you two started dating.

Barring the tension from all the Will stuff, your relationship was doing well. You had great dates (both out and at the apartment), were radiating happiness together, and Jay was taking your words about communication to heart. Not once has the phrase ‘I’m fine’ dripped off of his lips. If he didn’t want to tell you something or was more comfortable talking about it with his therapist or Upton before you he’d let you know. Most times he would just talk about what was bothering him, even if it was only bullet points sometimes you both felt relieved that functional relationships were actually possible. 

You were on a date with Jay at your favourite Jamaican restaurant when you ran into Hannah Asher. She did not look pleased to see you and quite honestly you could have lived the rest of your life happily if you never had to see her again. After a few seconds of glaring at you and your boyfriend, an annoying ginger put his arm around her. “Hi Will. How are you?”

“My girlfriend and I are doing well Jacob.”

“Really Will? You’re using my whole name because my-”

“Okay, you know what? Let’s go our separate ways. It looked like you guys were just leaving, and we’re probably confusing our poor hostess. So let’s both just walk away.”

“You ruined my life.”

“Asher-”

“You took everything from me!”

“Do you have any idea how many patients you almost killed in your time at Med? Because I do, and it’s a triple-digit number. You shouldn’t have been practicing in your condition and you know it. So you need to drop the victim act and walk away.” You saw her face contort into complete and utter rage, then everything is hazy. There were lights, bright red ones, and screaming, you were pretty sure Jay was there, and there was... Copper? Why did your mouth feel like it was full of liquid pennies? There was gurgling, was there a baby? Were they okay? You tried to speak, get up, look around, but you were too tired. You were begging yourself to move, to do something, but it felt like your bones turned into melting iron.

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

You didn’t remember waking up, or falling asleep for that matter, you were just looking at the glass door and suddenly it came into focus. You didn’t even know how you got to the ED, what happened at the restaurant. Dr. Choi entered your room apprehensively. “Y/L/N? How are you feeling?”

“Like I was mauled by a tiger.”

“That’s... Actually pretty close to what happened, honey.”

“Jay?”

“Hey, I’m right here. So, what’s the prognosis Choi?”

“Multiple contusions on the right side of the abdomen, lower back and around your neck, multiple lacerations all over your abdomen, forearms, and two on your head. Your liver was also perforated, we couldn’t stop the bleeding so we had to remove half of it, which you know means it’ll take a couple of months to grow back and you won’t be able to drink for around a year. We’re going to need to monitor you and run some tests, so you’re gonna be here for a few days.”

“Well I should hope so. What? Why are you two looking at me like I have eight heads? I could’ve died.”

“... You actually want to stay in the hospital and be cared for by your colleagues?”

“I trust you, besides I’ll only make things worse if I check myself out AMA, doesn’t matter how good of a doctor I am. It’ll be hard and I’m not going to enjoy it, but I have to stay here and get treated regardless so I might as well be as positive as I can about it.”

“You are officially my favourite patient.”

“And I love you even more.”

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it.”

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

“What happened Jay? I don’t remember anything after telling her to walk away.”

“She went berserk. Attacked you. I tried to pull her off but Will lost his mind, telling me not to hurt her. I managed to toss him after a couple of seconds but I was too late. She’d already slashed you up and stabbed you twice. I grabbed her but she managed to get a bunch of kicks in while I was hauling her away from you all while screaming that she was going to kill you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you. She’s sitting in a cell at the 21st right now with Platt breathing down her neck. We also did a drug test on her, she was high as all hell.”

“Please don’t feel bad Jay, I know that you reacted as fast and did as much as you could. And I know that Will did what he could to stop you. How is Will by the way?”

“He’s in the cell next to hers. He assaulted a police officer and was an accomplice in assault. Voight’s been asking if I want to drop the charges against him because he’s my brother. And I just don’t know, I wanted to talk to you first.”

“I don’t want to charge him. And I don’t want you to press charges either, but I won’t stop you if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want him to go to jail, I want him to go to therapy. He needs it.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but he really does. And I think you need to be the one to bring it up with him. We can do some research, too, and find psychiatrists that have their own practices so that it’s not connected to the hospital at all.”

“That sounds like a great idea, but I think you mean I do the research cause you are supposed to be resting and not doing any physically or mentally strenuous tasks.”

“Fine, fine. Just give Will a hug from me when you see him.”

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

ONE YEAR LATER

The day of the trial had finally arrived and you were pissed off about it. The date of the trial was the same day as your due date. The defence had done everything they could to delay the trial, and when they finally settled on the worst possible day three weeks ago, you’d tried to have it delayed again because you didn’t want to give birth in a courtroom. The defence had convinced the judge to deny it, so here you were, sitting in a sweltering room that smelled like old wood and seventies carpet for five hours beside your husband behind the district attorney doing your best not to glare at the judge. “It’s going to be okay, honey, she won’t get away with anything, it’s cut and dry. The only real thing to do is to determine her sentence.” Jay kissed your forehead and placed his hand on top of yours on your protruding stomach. You winced. “She just kicked again, Jay.”

“That’s seven minutes apart.”

“I’m in labour, we need to go.” Jay nodded to your lawyer who motioned to the judge for permission to speak. “Your honour, my client is in labour, may we adjourn so that she and her husband can go to the hospital?”

“Objection your honour!”

“Ms. Asher, do not interrupt the prosecution. I’ve heard and seen more than enough evidence. Ms. Asher, you are hereby sentenced to twenty-five years in prison for aggravated assault and attempted murder. The court now is adjourned. Oh, and Dr. Y/L/N and detective Halstead? Congratulations.”

[carbootsoul]

erika+ephriam+lyon for ask game 👀? and a witch hat character of your choosing if you like as well :3v

omg clint you're spoiling me :) also this is mostly unrelated but i was listening to kat flint today and a) her music is so good thank u for introducing it to me years ago and b) VERY witch hat atelier vibes which was fun. im putting my answers under a cut bc i am sooo verbose about characters

eirika: a song that reminds me of them: this is just the first that came to mind but oh what a world by rufus wainwright! oh what a world my parents gave me / always traveling but not in love. the rly interesting mix of idealism and pragmatism that she embodies- both being in awe of and in love with the world and the people in it but also not hesitating to accept that they are in a war and the tragedies that come with it what they smell like: i think for most of the game she smells like sweat and dirt an otp: eirika and l'arachel is actually the best ship in the whole entire world they're sooo funny. they keep meeting and every time eirika is like ???? and l'arachel is just falling head over heels in love a notp: eirika and lyon romance honestly very textually relevant in the game and adds to the story and whatever but they're both so absolutely homosexual that i can't conceptualize it favorite platonic/familial relationships: eirika and ephraim 🥺🥺 but also eirika and seth he's such a good big brother figure!! but also eirika and colm and eirika and tana and eirika and lyon. it's like.. rag tag army as family.. a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: there are like two posts about her on tumblr dot com but her fire emblem heroes characterization makes me insane shut up about your brother shut up about your brother the position they sleep in: on her side one leg curled to her chest

ephraim a song that reminds me of them: omg lies by marina abt his relationship with lyon. you're too proud to say that you made a mistake / you're a coward till the end i really wish we had been able to see more of ephraims reaction to the true story of what happened with lyon, since he obviously forgives him but also seems to be angry about it and that's such a good dynamic. also oc can't let you go / i just want it to be perfect / to believe it's all been worth the fight. they make me... ugh what they smell like: he has also been living in tents for months so he probably also smells like horses and sweat an otp: ephraim and lyon do get to me... 🥺 also he and innes as a like teenage fling is hilarious to me they're so funny to each other i can't believe they don't have supports a notp: if i ever see another incest joke i'm killing someone favorite platonic/familial relationships: he and his sister are so good!! they're so siblings! a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: again i have never rly interacted with the fe fandom but something from canon i disagree with is the assignment of the sun to him and the moon to his sister he is so obviously the lunar twin im furious abt this the position they sleep in: absolutely sprawled out. he takes up as much space as is given to him

lyon a song that reminds me of them: ache with me by against me just happened to be playing rn but it's very him. do you share the same sense of defeat / have you realized all the things you'll never be / ideals turn to resentment, open minds close up with cynicism / i've got no judgement for you / come on and ache with me. what they smell like: roses but in a fucked up revolutionary girl utena way like the roses symbolize something sinister an otp: lyon and ephraim.. admittedly lyon is kind of carrying why this ship is compelling with his tragic backstory but ephraim is such a boy so he's important too a notp: see eirika :/ favorite platonic/familial relationships: he and eirika and ephraim as a unit are so important to me they are so [unintelligible] a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: i haven't rly seen this much but i guess any tendency to soft-boy him bc of his character design like this guy sucks a lot and he has a lot of flaws that almost ended the world :/ the position they sleep in: hugging a pillow

and for the wha character.. agott bc she's so girl :) a song that reminds me of them: pretty little things by the crane wives! but trust is now something i make people earn / so i'm not inclined to just give it away / to a pair of blue eyes with some nice things to say what they smell like: grass in the best way possible! an otp: she and coco are SO !! im in love with them. sasunaru dynamic but better in every way. all the panels of coco hugging or complimenting agott and agott blushing furiously are the new wonders of the world. shipping kids in media always feels a little weird but i think they're a rly cute like first crush dynamic a notp: i dont think she's been shipped with anyone else lol favorite platonic/familial relationships: agott and olruggio are rly interesting to me! i've probably just drawn lines between them because they're both grumpy but i could definitely see agott becoming for coco what olruggio is for qifrey and i love when children are friends with their adult narrative foil it's about helping the younger generation overcome the things that they couldn't! it's also about olruggio being able to connect with agott because they're both grumpy :) a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: not a headcanon bc again the fandom is tiny but so much of her tag is ppl being mean to her about what she did in the second (?) volume like yeah that was mean but she's like 12! 12 year olds do fucked up stuff all the time they're still learning what interpersonal relationships are the position they sleep in: on her stomach clutching her pillow a crossover au i’d love to see them in: anything that would allow her to say swear words my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: the like single panel where tetia is getting mad at her about not liking wearing costumes and it shows her dressed as a prince! she looks so good

djskflj i feel like i wrote a novel about each of them and tbh i do not know if u will make any sense out of it but thank u for sending this it was super fun to think about them for a while!!!