#it must be nice not being too much in fucking existence for everyone around you it must be nice not being fucking tolerable AT BEST

[celestialmancer]

⛈️❌ //

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Ghosts

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, inspired by Dead Boy Detectives if you couldn't tell.

Steve should have seen it coming, really. Despite dating, driving the gang around, and being silly with Robin, he'd known for a long time he wouldn't live long enough to amount to anything. Everyone had plans, had a future. But Steve? He'd be lucky if he could give his imminent death a meaning.

Turns out, he couldn't. Or at least, not in the way he wanted.

It didn't matter if it was the guilt he'd been feeling ever since Eddie died and Max ended up brain dead, poor judgment, or simply wanting for the wait to already be over. Whatever the reason, he pulled "an Eddie" in August 1986. He didn't even ask, he just ran out as a distraction while the rest of his friends were trying to evacuate Max from the overran hospital. He got a few swings in, they got a few chomps. Then more than a few. In the end, he way lying on the ground, bleeding out, but his efforts didn't seem to matter. As soon as he took his last breath, the monsters just turned around and went back to Max's room. Steve didn't even have enough time to pray he'd bought them enough time.

"Oh shit. Stupid. So stupid."

Steve froze, or at least got startled. Which was something, you know, for a dead guy. If this was the voice of an angel welcoming him to the afterlife, it sure sounded like-

"Did I look this dumb when I died? I hope not. Why the fuck would you do that, Harrington, huh? Thought they no longer needed you? Can you imagine what it's going to do to Dustin when he finds out?"

Munson.

Steve opened his eyes and sat up. Nothing hurt. Weird.

What was even weirder? He came face to face with Edward Munson, recently deceased.

Eddie shrieked and fell back on his ass. He'd probably been crouching over Steve, but now he was splayed on the hospital floor, gaping at Steve as if he'd seen a-

Oh. Okay.

Steve turned around and grimaced. He was sitting in his own mangled corpse, which he wasn't too thrilled about. He sprung to his feet and, after giving his bloodied face one last look - they didn't get the hair, phew! - turned to Munson. "Fancy meeting you here. Are you, like, my afterlife welcoming comittee?"

Eddie made a vain effort to close his mouth. "Uh, no. Not really. I mean, there probably is someone coming to get you, but if you don't mind, I won't stick around for that. I don't think Death likes me very much, after I bolted on her."

Steve blinked in confusion. "Death…is a woman?"

"Oh yep. Very nice. Didn't even chase me when I freaked out and ran. Um. But you might want to wait for her. I will stick around for a bit longer." Even in death, Eddie hadn't changed. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his face, and Steve wondered if he could chew on it, now that he was a ghost.

"But why? What is there to do?" Steve paused, thinking. "Wait. Is there something we can actually do? To help?"

That made Eddie laugh, although it was weak and incredulous. "Uh. Harrington. You've just died in like, a pretty painful and sadly heroic way, and your first thought is that you haven't done enough?"

"Doesn't feel like I have. Look," he said, offering Eddie a hand to pull him up, "if Death is coming, I'd rather not be here. Can we go and check on the others?" He wiggled his fingers at Eddie when he didn't respond.

The wiggle must have jolted Eddie's brain awake because he took Steve's hand. It was weird - he could feel the pressure where Eddie's hand met his, but there was no warmth, no texture. Possibly no pain, he thought. Useful.

"Right," Eddie cleared his throat. "Let's go. Just a bit of a warning - I think Will can see us. At least he looked very suspicious when I tried to sneak into your house when you all were staying there, and when I told him to just pretend he didn't notice anything, he nodded. So, uh. I guess he's special or something?"

They would learn quite a few things in their new existence. First of all, Will wasn't special. He just fit the criteria of "nearly died in the Upside Down or the newly merged realities", not just by being in danger, but being so close to death he almost didn't make it. Turns out, Hopper could see them too after his near death experience under the mall, and Hopper couldn't just be shushed.

Half-corporeal hugs were exchanged. Tears were shed, especially by Dustin and Robin. But they were all still together, for now. The danger was near and their grief had to wait.

By not quite so safe experimentation, Steve and Eddie found out that only two things could hurt them - other ghosts and iron. Luckily enough, none of the Upside Down creatures qualified as either. And so the party gained an invisible and indestructible vanguard - Eddie and Steve, both wielding their weapons of choice (Steve was overjoyed that he could just pick up his nail bat, and maybe that was a bit of a giveaway, seeing the bat floating towards the party with no body to hold it). They scouted ahead and reported back, either to Will and Hopper, or just by angrily scribbling in a notebook provided by Nancy. They couldn't sleep, so they would watch over the party in the night, allowing them the so much needed rest.

The months dragged on. Eleven kept her promise and saved Max, and when the pale redhead saw Eddie and Steve even with her damaged eyesight, no one was surprised. And as Upside Down crept further into their world, there were more injuries, more near death experiences, more tearful reunions. After being bitten by a demodog and almost bleeding out, Robin flung herself at Steve the second she could move and babbled about him being the absolute biggest idiot there ever was. He didn't dispute it, but hugged her tighter.

They were making progress. Still not enough to fix things, but they were getting there. And Steve's brain started another countdown to his and Eddie's potential second demise.

"Do you think we'll still be around, when the portal is closed?" he asked Eddie during one of their night vigils. "What if it's just the Upside Down that's keeping us here?"

Eddie, scribbling in a notebook, shrugged. "I don't know, and for the first time in my life - well, death - I don't have enough information to panic about that." He chewed on the pencil, meeting Steve's eyes with caution. "Might be nice though," he said slowly, "to stay. Do some more good, make sure everyone's safe. If you're in."

Steve laughed. "Wait. Are you, Eddie Munson, the mortal enemy of jocks, asking me to join you? Even when we're not neck deep in shit?"

"Mortal enemy…I mean, I lost the mortal part, and it felt so mundane to just keep the enemy. So yes, one position if Eddie Munson's afterlife has just opened up. Will Steven Harrington join me in it?"

Steve thought about it, and maybe he should have thought longer. Maybe he should have considered that eternity is a pretty long time, but his infrequent visits to the church taught him that heaven would mean being with his loved ones. He'd still be around if the party needed him. He'd see Robin off to college. And then, when everyone left…it would be just him and Eddie.

Him and Eddie. What a thought.

He winked at Eddie who, for a ghost, looked like he was sweating bullets. "Take me to the movies first, Munson, and I'm all yours." And then, even if he know neither of them would feel it, he covered Eddie's hand with his. He might have been imagining the gentle spark of warmth, but he decided it was real. He knew it was real.

Eddie smiled at him and interlaced his fingers with Steve's. "I can work with that, big boy."

And for the first time in so many years, the countdown in Steve's head stopped.

[randoimago]

For bg3, could I request platonic Wyll, Astarion, Gale, and Lae'zel finding a Tav that's quietly breaking down from all the pressure of having to save and comfort people all the time. Like they want to help people, but it's becoming too much for them.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale, Lae'zel, Wyll

Note(s): They all need therapy after this, but idk if therapy exists in D&D so give them spa days and alcohol instead

Astarion

As someone that voices his complaints easily once he's become close enough to let you in on his secrets, he also knows when the feelings are being buried away. While he doesn't want to tell you what to do, he does pull you aside when you're back at camp to exchange supplies.

Saving people and being a hero has never been something for him, mostly because he never had someone to save him. Until you came around, that is. And he thanks you for that, but you need to stop putting so much on your shoulders. You want to save people? Well you won't be able to do that if you collapse.

You've been a good friend to him, so let him do the same to you. Take a fucking break. Break into that newspaper building and change the article to something ridiculous. Do something for yourself. Astarion is more than happy to introduce you to some of his more fun morally grey activities just to get everything off of your mind. He has dealt with the aftermath of being burnt out and wasting away because bottling your emotions becomes too much, he won't see the same happening to you.

Gale

Notices you looking tired and suggests a break. He'll always be happy to lend and ear and offer some words of wisdom. Mostly, let yourself rest. You're already doing a lot and you should find a nice book and lay down in your tent for a bit to destress.

While Gale is trying to have his morals in the right place, he also knows not everyone can or deserves to be saved. It's valiant of you to try and offer help to anyone you can, but he can see the toll it's taking on you mentally, emotionally, and physically. Honestly, Faerun is a big place, let some other adventurers lend their help, you deserve some wine.

It's a shame that Magnificent Mansion or Tiny Hut aren't spells you can get in game, but Gale would happily cast Magnificent Mansion for you to just have an impromptu spa day. It's what you deserve for being his greatest friend and for all that you do for others.

Lae'zel

She knows being a leader is hard and there are many challenges you must step up to. People will constantly seek your help and look to you for advice. She has seen it by many of her githyanki superiors and thought nothing of it. And then she finds you cracking.

Tells you that as a leader, you can't show your cracks or you'll be seen as vulnerable to enemy attacks. While at camp, rest as much as you need. She'll keep watch while you let out whatever emotions that you need to.

Will also remind you, that you're her leader. You don't lead all the people you come across on the road, you owe them nothing. Technically, you owe Lae'zel nothing as well, you have the freedom to choose what to do, morals be damned.

Wyll

He notices the cracks and he fully understands. Hell, he sold his soul to a devil because he was failing. You're allowed to break down. You're allowed to rest.

While Wyll, likes the idea of helping anyone in need, even he knows that it can be too much. A lot has happened to all of you in a very short span of time, he understands needing to rest.

He considers you a good friend and ally and if you'd allow him, he'd be glad to take the lead and let you rest. He can at least listen to those you come across and offer them comfort if you're too drained to do so.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy On Tumblr

Chilchuck x !fem ! halffoot Reader

So this starts off during the sauna episode. I'm changing it a bit to where that floor has been that cold since the dungeon was created. There will probably be more installments but right now it's just setting things up. Anyway, enjoy.

The last thing you remembered was cold, leeching into your bones. Cold, and the certainty that this would be the last thing you'd ever feel. Your party had left you to die rather than try to heal your wounds, and this floor was too deep for someone else to come along and take pity on you before your body rotted. You were going to become a ghost, haunting this dungeon without ever being able to leave. 

And then you opened your eyes again, and you were all too warm. 

You took a few shuddering breaths, coughing and gasping. Your lungs burned like they were on fire and your whole body ached. You curled up into yourself, shivering. And then you became aware of what was going on around you. And also that for some reason everyone was wrapped in towels instead of normal clothing.

"YOU MEAN YOU HAD NORMAL RESURRECTION MAGIC THAT COULD DO SHIT LIKE THIS THIS WHOLE TIME???!!! ARE YOU STUPID? WE COULD HAVE AVOIDED THIS WHOLE THING!" 

Another....halffoot? Shouted. 

"I already EXPLAINED why I couldn't have used normal magic!!" A blond elf woman shouted back in an exasperated high pitched squeal. "It wouldn't have worked! The thread between body and soul was too tenuous! And we'd never have been able to get enough regular meat down there! Anyway I don't understand why you're so against it, I didn't see you arguing against it at the time!" 

A blond tall man, blindfolded? For some reason? Interjected. "Marcille is right! Even though the body was in a not so great condition the ice kept it from rotting so all the component parts were still there! We just got lucky that we were able to gather them all together! Once the body thawed resurrecting it was a simple matter! There was no need for special magic like with Falin." 

They continued to argue violently while your recently unfrozen brain attempted to make sense of the situation. 

Had the half foot somehow had enough pull in the party he'd been able to convince them that they should revive you? You weren't much use on this floor and presumably deeper ones where small traps gave way to larger monsters, so you couldn't work out any reason they had for reviving you. You looked around the small, actually extremely hot room you were in. It was...a sauna? Was it really a sauna? What the fuck? 

You smelled something delicious and you looked around to see a dwarf with long black hair and a massive bushy black beard peacefully tending to meat cooking over what looked very much like a wok. What the fuck? They were a high enough level party to have fresh meat down here? That would explain why they'd been able to spare the revival for you. 

There was also what looked like a beast girl crouched next to him, watching the squabbling party members with a bored expression on her face. Well. That was just another one of the things to file away and deal with later. 

Almost instinctively you staggered to your feet and crouched down by the dwarf to watch him cook. Your stomach grumbled insistently. Even in normal circumstances getting revived made you ravenous. Now you felt dizzy with hunger. 

"Ah, hello there!" The dwarf looked up at you and beamed. "Always nice to have new folk eat with us! You must be hungry after getting revived, food should be ready in just a few minutes."

He continued cooking, humming softly to himself. 

"Would you...like some help?" You managed to rasp out. Throat hoarse with disuse. 

At this point it seemed like the other people there remembered your existence. 

"Ah! So sorry, you're awake!" The elf said. "You were out for a long time, I didn't know if the magic would fully take with how long you'd been in the ice."

"How...how long?" You said, almost dreading the answer. 

"At least a couple of years, based on the state of your organs and bones" the blindfolded tall man said enthusiastically. "You were lucky! The extreme cold preserved you extremely well and there aren't any monsters down here that would go to the trouble of digging you out of the ice." 

You blinked at him. 

"How did you get all the way down here?" The elf asked. "Was your party wiped out? We looked but we couldn't find anyone else."

"I'll bet they left her behind." The halffoot interjected dourly. "She probably got injured and they didn't want to waste time resurrecting her or bringing her along." 

"what!" The elf gasped. "that's terrible, no one would do that! Why would you even think of that Chilchuck??" 

"Like I keep telling you guys, halffoots are treated as expendable! It'd be totally within the realm of possibility! Especially since she didn't sign on with the union or we woulda recorded when her party came back without her or she just never came back at all!" He frowned. "That's why I started the damn thing in the first place but if not everyone uses it it's not fucking good to anyone."

he (chilchuck?) turned abruptly to you. "Anyway, why didn't you use the union? We would have been able to look out for you so this didn't happen."

You stared at him in utter confusion. "....union?" 

[slamminslamminmcgill]

😌😌😌😌😌

word count: 2896

joel/reader

—

I’M GOING INSANE I’M EATING DRYWALL I’M TAKING HOSTAGES EVERYONE GO FOLLOW OOMF @gymnopedien69 RIGHT NOW

"You know I can hear you, right?"

"You're fucking joking."

"No, I'm being honest, promise, Scout's honour."

You couldn't help but snort. It wasn't funny- it wasn't- but there was something juxtaposed and ironic about Joel's comment. That, and you didn't know how else to react. Motherfucker he'd really heard you? Goddamn, did proper privacy even still exist? Or had that been shot out the window along with every other element that compromised the full deal of decent living. As you had just learned, apparently. 

Joel must have noticed your ears turning red, because he gave you a slightly sympathetic look.

"Listen, kid, I don't care, honestly at first I thought it was a phone you'd somehow managed to get working again. But I don't reckon phones vibrate for that long. Or moan."

"Jesus, I get it, okay?" you replied, your ears only getting redder. Joel couldn't help but chuckle at your flustering. 

"I just said I don't care. I don't blame you for- well...destressing."

"Joel!"

"Okay, alright, alright, I'll stop. I just thought you should know that-"

"You can hear me, I know."

---

It was the middle of the night, and you couldn't sleep. Nearly three in the fucking morning, and you were wide awake. The faint orange lights from outside shone dimly through the musty, dirty, crooked blinds, casting thin lined shadows on an empty wall on the right side of your shitty, decrepit, dilapidated bedroom. Joel was directly on the other side of the wall from you. Literally, right on the other side. You'd checked. Your beds- well- mattresses on the floor- were only separated by the thin wall you'd, until that afternoon, thought had been much thicker. 

It was quiet. Too quiet, you realized. Normally at this hour you could hear your roommate snoring. That was typically the insurance you had taken that it was safe to mess around. Now you could only think about how you'd ever been so stupid and naive. 

Joel cleared his throat on the other side of the wall, and it snapped you out of your thoughts. So he was awake. Faintly, you heard fabric shift. Just the bedsheets, right? 

This was none of your business. 

You rolled onto your side in bed, facing away from the wall, and tugged the sheets over your head. You were going to sleep now, and that was final. He was your roommate, and what he did with his own time was his concern, not yours.

There was something...relaxing about hearing Joel on the other side of the wall. Not in a weird way, jesus, no. It was just nice to know you weren't alone. It was terrifying being alone. At least here you had peace of mind that you weren't.

You were only asleep for about twenty minutes when you startled awake. It took you a second to remember where you were, grounding yourself back in the worn down apartment. Then, your ears tuned in to the soundscape around you. On the other side of the wall, Joel was groaning softly. 

This was none of your business. 

Still...

No. Crazy, you were being crazy, absolutely not, this was out of the question.

Joel let out a strangled moan that involuntarily made your dick twitch. 

Admittedly, you'd always found him intriguingly attractive. You'd never followed the impulse because the last thing you ever wanted to do was make anyone uncomfortable, but the thought had crossed your mind. 

In the dark, you listened to Joel bring himself to the edge. 

What if you just...

As if commanded by a puppeteer, you slid out of bed and in your tank top and shorts, tip-toed out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Your knuckles were about to knock on Joel's door, slightly ajar, when upon leaning forward, the floorboard under your foot creaked, and all noise Joel was making ceased immediately. 

You found yourself holding your breath. 

"That you?" Joel asked gruffly from inside his room. You couldn't move.

"Don't be shy," he added after a moment of silence, "C'mere."

What.

Your heart lurched into your throat. 

"I said come here, boy." Joel repeated, much more directly this time. Swallowing, you pushed his bedroom door open and walked into the dark room. The blinds on his window cast the same shadow yours did, and the room was very dimly lit with the same orange light as in yours. Joel was in bed, propping himself up on his elbows. 

"Thought that was you," he mumbled, looking at you now standing in the middle of his empty, barren bedroom, "You like eavesdropping on your roommates?"

"No! What- no I wasn't-" you stuttered, shit you hadn't thought this through at all.

"S'okay. I was kind of hoping you would hear. Give you a taste of what it's like." Joel said. Right, so he was going at it. 

"Uh...sorry?" you said, unsure what sort of response he was looking for.

"No, goddammit, stop apologizing, god. Come sit," he said, gesturing to the empty part of the mattress. "There's room for one more, if you want."

In the dark, you nodded. 

---

He'd pulled you into his lap, bucking his hips against your shorts. You grinded back onto him, already whimpering pathetically.

"God, what are you, a fucking tease, take your damn clothes off. If you're going to be a slut, be a slut, don't give me no half fucking measures, baby boy." Joel growled, pulling you into another deep kiss. His hand began slipping down your waistband. Shit, did he know? You hesitated, slowing. In the haze of pheromones and feral behaviour, you couldn't remember if you'd mentioned in passing that you lacked a regularly sized dick. 

"What the fuck are you doing, what's with the slowing down?" Joel asked, pulling back temporarily. He wasn't stupid, he read your cue.

"Listen, I really don't want to put a damper on this whole thing, but I need you to know that I don't-"

"You don't have a cock?" Joel finished your sentence. 

"Yeah. That." you confirmed, frowning. 

"Yeah you told me once. You were really drunk."

Right. That night. You'd sucked a guy off for a bottle of whiskey and then drank the whole thing in one go. You'd totally forgotten about that. 

"Oh yeah. Sorry."

Joel glared at you.

"What the fuck did I say about apologizing." he said, dangerously soft.

"Not to."

"Exactly. Now, I don't give two fucking damns about what's in between your legs. Based on the sounds I've heard you make in the past twenty-four hours I'd say it doesn't matter because you'll still sound like a whore no matter what I do with you. So stop apologizing, take off those damn clothes, and let me help you out a little bit here, because it seems like you need to learn a goddamn lesson."

"Yep- yes- yes sir." you said, obeying immediately, stumbling off the mattress and standing so you could undress. Joel watched you rather hungrily, eyes raking over your frame. 

"Beautiful," he whispered, looking you up and down. He took your hand and pulled you back over to him, catching you in a kiss, suddenly abruptly gentle, "You ever kissed an older guy before?" Joel asked. 

"Once or twice." you shrugged.

He'd sat up in bed, clearly naked, though the blanket was covering him from the waist down.

"Good. That means I don't have to treat you like a porcelain teacup. Unless you want me to." Joel said, already reaching up to cup your cheek. A shiver went down your spine as his rough hands caressed your face. It had been so long since you'd been with someone like this.

"No." you answered immediately. No, god please don't be gentle. That would actually be like kryptonite. Joel couldn't help but chuckle.

"Thank god."

Before you could process it, he yanked you onto the bed with him, and quite swiftly, he pinned you down onto the bed, looming overtop of you, forcing your legs apart with his knee. 

"There we go, don't be so shy, show me that body." Joel coaxed, feeling your legs up and down with his hands, snaking one in between and sliding one finger into your hole. You whimpered and tensed up. Oh god, oh shit, oh god this was really happening. 

"Hey, hey, baby boy?" Joel asked, voice gentle once more, "Look at me, honey."

You obeyed, looking up at the figure over you in the dim orange light.

"Hey sweetie, you're okay, it's just you and me. I'm gonna be a little rough like you asked, but you're safe here, okay puppy? You wanna slow down or stop just ask okay? Good boys use safewords, right?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, nodding. Joel, deciding you were sufficiently calmed, continued pushing his finger in and out, relishing in your quite whimpers and moans. Then, a second finger prodded its way in and you got just a little bit louder.

"There we go, listen to you moan, puppy." Joel praised, still fingering your cunt. "God, and I've barely done anything. These are just the first two fingers. You want a third one?"

"Yes- uhuh. Please. Daddy." you gasped, brain already short-circuiting. Joel shoved his fingers extra deep at that.

"Hmm? What did you call me?"

"Daddy..?" you repeated. 

Fuck there was the third finger. 

"God yeah, that's good." Joel groaned. You felt something poke against your inner thigh and realized it was Joel. Shit, you must have been doing something right then. Joel kept shoving three fingers in and out of your hole for a little while, rubbing his thumb along your twitching, swollen dick. You hadn't had this level of attention in a long, long, time, and you'd pitifully forgotten how insanely better it was than any shitty C tier vibrator with dying batteries you'd somehow managed to scrounge up in this shithole of a society you had the audacity to call a life. 

"Joel-" you squeaked, and were met with an abrupt slap directly on your cunt. You let out a strangled cry, followed by another slap. 

"the fuck did you call me?" Joel asked, still ramming his fingers in and out. 

"Sorry- Daddy! I meant daddy."

He slapped your face.

"Daddy!" you amended your statement. No apologizing. Good boys didn't apologize.

"There we go, that's more like it. Fucking own your goddamn self, puppy. don't you dare say sorry for cock this good." Joel growled primally, watching you try to contain all the adrenaline and energy building up inside your body.

"I'm gonna fucking cum." you whined. Joel chuckled darkly.

"Awe, yeah? Are you gonna fucking cum?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah? Little bitch boy's gonna come?"

"Please."

Joel leaned down, breathing ragged in your ear.

"Too fucking bad, puppy. Wait."

And then there was nothing.

You squealed, squirmed and whined, groaning with disappointment. Joel held onto your thighs, and let you come to terms with reality.

"Calm down. You have no fucking clue what's coming." he said gently. After he'd determined you were no longer on the edge, he smirked and a shiver ran down your spine. 

"Right now what do I want you do to again?" Joel asked, checking in before proceeding.

"Not apologize." you mumbled, laying exposed on the bed. Joel chuckled. Christ, you were adorable.

"Yes, that, but also?"

"Safewords. Good boys use safewords."

"Yes they do," Joel praised, leaning forward and kissing your forehead, "Very good of you to remember, I'm very proud of you."

Joel lined himself up, and then you saw stars. He was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. Like fireworks shooting you into a place where time didn't exist and everything was just pure, intense feeling. Like your nerve endings were burning and the only thing they needed to keep functioning was more. Your inhibition was shut off and you became loose- so fucking loose in Joels arms. He rammed in and out of you groaning and reverently touched his forehead to your chest, right near your chin, losing himself in the wave of pleasure.

You draped your hands over the back of his head, feeling his hair in between your fingers, kind of like you wanted to hold onto it for stability.

"Go on," Joel grunted, "Tug on it." 

He said it almost like it was a challenge, and you had a response, but it only came out as a whimper. Your hands curled into fists, obeying his request and Joel moaned loudly, speeding up.

"There you go, that's my good boy."

"Da-ddy?" you asked. Joel immediately became attentive.

"Yes puppy?"

"It feels s-so good." was all you could think to say. Somewhere in the background Joel chuckled.

You only ascended from there.

Later- it could have been a minute or an hour- you'd lost track of time, Joel pulled out of your now gaping hole and slapped his cock on your a few times for good measure. 

"Okay son, turn around, Daddy wants to use you from behind. Don't be quiet now, okay? Make all the noise you need, honey." he said gently, helping you up, and positioning you on your knees.

"Good boys still use safewords, right?" you mumbled, making sure you still had the rules in order. Joel pressed several kisses down your spine.

"Yes they do, and you're very smart for remembering that, puppy. Are you okay?"

"Yes sir." you chimed. 

If the first time Joel stuck his dick into your cunt caused you to go to a place where time didn't exist, doing it doggy style wiped you off the map entirely. Even if you had wanted to make an attempt to stay quiet, you couldn't. Not that you were, of course, Joel had taught you that good boys didn't apologize, and that good boys were loud when they needed to be. 

You think you screamed, but you didn't really remember. 

Your hands gripped fists full of the bedsheets and you felt your body move with the rhythm of Joels hips slamming into your ass. His calloused hands gripped your hips and once he got his bearings he wasted no time beginning to slap your ass relentlessly. It stung, but it felt good, and neither you nor Joel could get enough of it. Come daylight your cheeks would be beet red and bruised, but by God was it worth it. 

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you, kiddo." Joel growled, strained. 

"Please-" was all you could get out.

"Yes sir, baby boy, you don't even have to fucking ask." the older man groaned, speeding up. His hand snaked around your front and gently, so goddamn gently, coaxed your up, so that your back was flush against his chest, and you were both on your knees, and that's where he held you close.

The hand that had eased you up travelled down and you sobbed with pleasure, leaning your head back against his shoulder when his fingers began playing with your pathetically neglected cock on top of all the other attention he was giving you. 

"Gonna take me?" Joel panted, taunting slightly.

"Mhm!" you whined, feeling him pulse inside of you.

"I fucking thought so. God I hoped you'd hear me. I was thinking about you, you know. Thinking about the sounds you made and- oh yes just like that, son. Just like that, kiddo. Oh fuck, you've got me on the fucking edge, I don't think I've ever met a toy as good as you and-"

Joel cut himself off with his own strained, strangled moan, the same one that got you going at the beginning of this whole endeavor. As Joel lost his mind pumping you full of cum, you fell over the edge, and everything went white. There was ringing in your ears, and all you could do was shake.

---

"Shh...easy, baby boy, just breathe. Breathe for me honey." someone said in the background. 

"Breathe, remember to breathe." he said again, chuckling softly, his voice ragged and worn out. Your eyes, screwed shut, opened, and you blinked a couple of times before the world came back into focus. You were still trembling, and aftershocks washed over you in waves. You were leaning head down on the mattress, ass still up and pressed against Joel's hips. His hand was pressed against your back, gently rubbing up and down as if to soothe you through the experience.

"You're okay. You're still here. You're with me." he reminded you, sighing, still catching his own breathe.

As your body stopped tingling, and feeling began to come back to your legs and waist, you realized how fucking soaked  everything was. the mattress under your knees was drenched- your own thighs were drenched, you felt come on your lower back- that was probably Joels- god, you were still pulsing. There were tears on your cheeks and you pushed yourself up. The intensity of it all came crashing down on you. Joel was quick to pick up on this.

"Hey, come here, come here darling," he cooed, easing you up again, wrapping his arms around you, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek, "here, let's lay down a second. can we do that kiddo?"

you nodded, following his lead. it felt nice to stretch out your knees and legs, you'd been leaning on them for a while. 

"there we go, that's better, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, voice hoarse from moaning so loudly. The whole experience had been cathartic. 

"You did really well, puppy. are you okay? nothing hurts?"

"no." you replied. as the adrenaline began to crash, exhaustion started taking over your body, and a wonderfully warm, sleepy feeling seeped into your muscles. 

"Did you have a good time?" you yawned. Joel pulled you close to his chest and laughed, the sound low and rumbling against your ear.

"Yeah, darling, I had a great time. Lord knows I fucking needed that."

"we should do it again." you said absentmindedly, already half asleep against Joel's chest. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [1] | Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# SFW, fluff, light comfort, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, smoking, implied depression, implied trauma, old men just doing their best, dad energy, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet The Kids

Notes: Yes, this will have more parts to it! I'm editing the next bit as we speak (beheh) and it should be up within the week? Maybe? I keep bouncing around from draft to draft, so finishing parts can take a while, pls forgive :pray:

--Smoke Break--

You were just another hero. There wasn't much else to it, you'd decided, and in joining the Spider Society, the same rang true--Miguel didn't think much of it, you didn't think much of it, none of the others did, either. It wasn't a bad thing, no, it was just how it was when one gathered hundreds of superheroes together. Everyone was special in their own worlds, so being a cut above the rest when you were all insane super freaks was exceptionally rare.

Miguel O'hara, however, proved to be exceptional.

Even after all the time that stretched on, he still existed as an anomaly of sorts within HQ. Cool, calm, collected, he led everyone with his head held high and his words resonating like a church bell; everything he said became gospel, everything he said affected their way of saving the multiverse.

Miguel knew that.

You knew that.

Most thought him invincible, unyielding and unforgiving towards the laws of the multiverse, and most admired his dedication. You knew troops clicked well with strong leaders, that they felt secure in their mission and battles when lead by a brave soldier, but your experience-trodden understanding burned in the forefront of your memories.

To you, it was obvious. If you watched his back long enough, if you too often caught glimpses of what he thought were well-hidden tells, the fracturing became all too easy to see.

Miguel was breaking.

You knew that feeling well, the feeling of being unable to bend anymore, to have your limits pushed and surpassed, yet still somehow stay intact and working, like a frayed web.

Maybe that was why you couldn't keep him off your mind. Maybe your primal loneliness, the weeping cracks you'd endured on your lonesome, resonated with another's. Maybe it begged you to do something while you still had the chance.

--

You'd come to see him one day to force some baked goods into his hands and leave, the excuse that you and your daughters had made too much armed and ready on your tongue.

Yes, you were caring, and yes, fine, you were a bit awkward approaching your fearless, strict, hard-ass of a leader with a piece of pie in your hands like you were at some fucking chummy pot luck or parent-teacher night, so you needed an excuse, something to veil your heart. Were you supposed to tell him you were worried about him, or something? No, no, that'd come later (if there was a later).

You expected to see his broad back turned to you, to hear him mumbling to himself or talking into comms; instead, you found him tucked away in the corner of the lab, sat in an old desk chair, napping. His arms rested crossed over his chest, and his head hung down. It was reassuring, a nice reminder that Miguel, too, was mortal just like yourself

The corner of your mouth twitched into something fond and lopsided, though barely there, before quietly, slowly, you left the Tupperware container on his stage console and saw yourself out. You couldn't bear the thought of waking a fellow "old man" from a much-needed nap.

--

Time stretched the way it usually did; missions assigned, spiders injured, anomalies captured--nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary.

But, shit, were you tired. You were always tired, sure, but these days the stress of life and love threatened to break more of you down and grind you into dust. It must have felt terrifying. But you couldn't feel it. Your mind wouldn't let you.

The smoke from your cigarette burned your lungs as you inhaled, grounding you, and reminding you of your existence. You sighed, thankful, and rested your head back against the outside wall of the secluded little balcony you'd found in your mindless wandering. Smoking inside always got you an earful from anyone and everyone in all dimensions, anyway, so you figured you'd skip the scrutiny and take it outside right away. Besides, it was easier to think and wallow this way.

But the door beside you slid open, ruining your quiet. You sighed, letting your eyes fall closed, waiting for the intruder to say something, do something, make themselves known. Seems they weren't in a rush, however.

You cracked an eye open, and spied him. He stared out at the city, his city, and held a clean Tupperware box in his hands. Miguel's fingers drummed against its sides in thought. His twitchy, fidgety restlessness made him too endearing.

"Finished the whole thing, eh?" You asked, cigarette hanging limply between your lips. "Guess you really do have a sweet tooth."

Miguel huffed a laugh, short and sweet, before handing back the box. "Yeah, well, can't say no to homemade food. Besides, Peter stole some." His face soured, nearing an annoyed pout.

"Ah. Bastard." You took the box back, words of gratitude light under your breath. "I'll give him a piece of my mind later."

"Let me know how that works out since, well, that Peter doesn't listen to anyone." Miguel crossed his arms.

"Pretty sure he just doesn't listen to you, Boss."

"Oh, great. Even better." Miguel was smiling, despite his annoyance. His eyes, warm and sullen like those poppies from your memories, flickered over to you, drawing your gaze. You'd never had the chance to speak to him so intimately, to be the only one standing beside him. It felt like a privilege, but it was too mundane to be so. You welcomed it.

"Didn't take you for a baker," Miguel said. His eyes followed your fingers plucking the smoke from your mouth. "Or a smoker."

You sighed as you glanced down at the wisping cigarette. "Yeah, well. I'm not much of the prim and proper hero type, I guess."

Miguel tilted his head, curious. "Never even had a phase?"

You thought back, far back, but shook your head. "Nah, I don't think I ever really had any pep in my step. Not that I can recall, anyway." You took another drag to suffocate resurfacing memories. "...A lot happened before Spiderman happened." For a long moment, you watched the smoke coil. So did Miguel. "But you? I can definitely see you as a peppy youngster."

Miguel sighed, something exasperated and light. "Dios, you're making us sound old."

"Aren't we?" You quirked a brow, almost smiling as Miguel put his hands on his hips. "What, you think we're young when we got kids like Hobie and Gwen running around? Damn, Pav too. That kid's the epitome of 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman.' Don't even get me started on May--"

"Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop," Miguel motored out, raising his palm to defend against the painful truth. "I get it. Y'know, talking to you is a lot more humbling than I thought it'd be."

Oh. You laughed. It surprised you with how it exploded past your defenses, choked and ugly, hampered by the plume of smoke in your lungs. Your hand waved at Miguel as you got lost in your fit, tears pricking your eyes and a smile aching unused muscles.

"Y-you're a dick," you eventually wheezed. "Humbling?"

Miguel smiled, too smug. "It's just been a while since I met another miserable bastard."

"Is that self-awareness?" You flicked ash from the end of your cigarette and shook your head, the aftershocks of laughter still shaking your voice. "Incredible. Inspirational, even."

"Alright, now who's being the asshole here?"

"That'd be me."

"Ah. Self-awareness."

"What can I say? You've inspired me. Such a good leader."

"Yeah, well, inspiration and good leadership come with a fee." His eyes flicked to the Tupperware tucked under your arm.

Your brows raised. Huh. Unexpected. But you nodded, and tapped more wasted ash onto the ground. "You're lucky my kids like to bake. You got a hankering for anything?"

Miguel's lips parted, surprise painting his face cool shades. He blinked then, breaking from whatever spell he found himself in, and ran a hand through his hair. "I--ah. Yeah, just, anything. Whatever your kids want."

"You're gonna regret that, but hey, your call." A comfortable silence fell for a few beats before, very unlike your blasé self, you pressed for the sake of curiosity: "So? Were you a plucky youngster? Sparkling eyes, heroic intentions 'n all that."

Miguel's gaze, pointed at the city, stared through the buildings and perhaps into a time you were not privy to. The tightening of his jaw told you more than you needed to know.

"Yeah, I guess I was." Miguel took a step and rested his elbows on the railing of the small patio. "Things weren't easy back then, but..."

"You didn't have to look after the multiverse?" You wondered, voice soft. The other's unshakeable shoulders slumped. You stuck the cig back in your mouth as you thought about your own history, about what you wish you had the chance to do, about who you could have been, who you wanted to be.

"Did you at least get to live a little?" You asked, maybe a little bit to yourself.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah. But I think I started really living after I became Spiderman."

Somehow, you understood.

"Kinda ironic."

"You're telling me. But it was eye-opening. Life-changing, in a bad way, in a good way." He paused before nodding with contemplative shrug. "Humbling."

"Hm. More humbling than me?"

"If you can believe it."

You snorted and shook your head. "Guess I have no choice."

He hummed, agreeing. Miguel turned, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms as he regarded you. "You must've had a 'the hero is born' moment," Miguel suggested more than he asked. "We all do." And he was right, logistically--if you were all Spiderman, you all had to have a moment where you really became a hero.

So, you thought for a long, slow moment.

But too quickly did something find a soft, hollow place to fester in your chest. The pain pierced so like losing yourself in December's glacial lakes, so wicked with languid tortures and polar punishments. The pain could fade if you stopped fighting, if you let the water pull you into the peaceful darkness, but you'd indulged in the shameful malady of shadows too many times; your patience and self-loathing had grown so thin.

You don't need to remember, the lady of the lake would whisper to you, voice dripping with tears in a way that sounded so much like her. She lulled you, she pulled you back in, she urged you to turn her way instead of fighting her, instead of reaching for the roiling inferno that was the past. In those moments, in her arms, you never knew if you'd find your way back to the surface, but you were not one to obediently decay in ignorance.

Her wail filled your mind as you breached the blaze, and found that sunny day in the Bronx, with the wind carrying the honeyed scent of summer life when you'd met that pretty little thing from the flower shop...

You twitched a smile. "Well...I guess I--"

"Hey," Lyla suddenly cut in, blipping into existence between Miguel and yourself. The level of relief you felt upon being saved from talking about yourself was unhealthy, but you silently thanked Lyla for it: memories of the blaze and the ice could be put aside for a while longer.

The sprite adjusted her sunnies before continuing, "totally loving the bromance here, really cute, but we got a new anomaly that needs some extra love. You guys feel like kicking some bad guy butt, buddy-cop style?"

"Sure," you cut in before Miguel could. You need out of this conversation now. "I call bad cop. Wanna see good cop Miguel butter up a baddie."

Miguel twitched. "Hey--"

"Oooh, me too," Lyla agreed, nodding sagely.

"I don't think I like you two being on the same side--"

"Let's get the show on the road, Boss." You butted your cigarette out on the wall and set down the container. A warm sunset glow bloomed across you as a portal whirled open, shimmering and humming.

You tapped his chest playfully with your knuckles. "Last one there buys me a six pack."

With a hop, skip, and a jump, you were gone.

Miguel rubbed his face. Lyla fluttered around his head. "Well? Better go after him, good cop."

"You. You aren't allowed to team up with him," Miguel stated as he headed towards the portal. "Starting now, colluding is not allowed."

"Oh, what? Sorry, connection's getting fuzzy--"

"Lyla, don't--"

"Sorry--shhhrk--breaking up--" and she, too, disappeared.

Miguel rolled his eyes. His mask materialized over his face as he followed you, a comfortable fondness resting in his chest, chasing out any turmoil the day had brought him.

Good cop. Bad cop. It was stupid, childish, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was a dumb little something that he needed.

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 5/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

Updating ~weekly (longer chapters).

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003)

CHAPTER FIVE – 2004

              He spends three weeks in a submarine and it helps cement his decision to attend flight school, if they accept his application. There is of course the natural competition between everyone, it’s simply how they function, each striving to be better, make those around them better, but also support them and drag them through it if they have to. His third year at USNA wraps up and he’s facing his summer break. The entire year has gone well, no terrorist attacks, although there is definite heightened security since.

              The routine is easy now, he’s an upperclassman, has Natasha and then a smaller circle of people he considers friends, if nothing close to what he has with Natasha. He’s aware that a significant chunk of upperclassmen think that he and Natasha are together, and the one time he checks in with her about whether she’s okay with that she’d just shrugged and said it had stopped the guys expecting her to pay any of them attention. No one asks, and they never correct anyone. When they head out to have leave together no one bats an eye. When they mention having spent some of the previous summer together it’s the same.

              He finds out why Natasha doesn’t talk to her family. Teenage pregnancy. She’d refused to get married to the guy, someone she won’t even tall Bradley the name of, and the shame of either the pregnancy, or their daughter not obeying them, they’d kicked her out. Her application with USNA had already been accepted, her place guaranteed and Bradley doesn’t need to ask to realize what her decision must have been. He briefly feels awful about introducing Tamsin and Petra to her, but she seems to take great joy in chatting to them on the phone and drawing and sending them pictures, so he lets that guilt melt away.

              They’ve both been asked to return to USNA and assist as upperclassmen for Plebe Summer, something he feels immense pride in, glad to have made a good enough impression that he’s being held up as a role model to the new recruits. Of course it makes their leave almost non-existent and they decide to spend it together, which he knows will only fuel rumors that they’re a couple. They go to San Francisco for five days at the start of their leave, and he finally gets to meet Natasha’s sole family member that has anything to do with her, and the way his eyes travel up Bradley’s body leave him blushing furiously. That he’s hot doesn’t help at all.

              “Oh, it is nice to meet you,” Christopher says, shaking his hand and Bradley looks to Natasha with a raised eyebrow and she’s just shaking her head.

              “Nice to meet you too. Bradley.”

              “Mmm. I have heard a lot about you. She didn’t ever mention just how delightful you looked.”

              “Because to me, he isn’t very delightful to look at. There are nicer views.”

              “Hey!” Bradley objects, out of principle more than anything, and Natasha is already cackling and pushing past Christopher with her bags but Christopher is looking at him seriously, completely different to the over-the-top flirtation of a moment ago.

              “Oh my god. You’re…” Christopher makes a limp-wrist gesture which sends Bradley’s eyebrows up in surprise.

              “Uh. Don’t ask don’t tell…” he says, throat tight, wondering where the fuck Natasha has gone.

              “Oh honey, I am not part of your weird cultish military shit. And I wasn’t asking, I was confirming. Holy shit. No wonder Tadpole likes you so much.”

              “Tadpole?”

              “Shut up!” Natasha calls out and Bradley grins.

              “I’ll tell you the story later,” Christopher says, voice low and conspiratory and Bradley nods, hitching his bag over his shoulder. Christopher jerks his head toward where Natasha can be heard grumbling. “Sorry, only got the one guest room. She’s already claimed the bed probably, so you’re on an air mattress.”

              “That’s fine, not the worst place I’ve slept by far.”

              “You’re my guest, I’d like to hope not. I’ll let you guys get settled then we can head out and find some food.”

              He leaves Bradley at the door and Natasha is smirking at him.

              “You couldn’t have told me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

              “Sorry, his sexuality isn’t exactly something I drop into casual conversation. We’re at USNA remember. Repression is being ingrained into us.”

              “Okay, would you hate me if I asked him out?”

              “No. But his boyfriend might.”

              “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

              “They can take you clubbing. I’m sure you’ll find ways of enjoying yourself here.”

              She’s right, and she’s smug about it. During the days they do touristy things and just spend time relaxing, occasionally working out. In the evenings Christopher and his boyfriend Patrick take them dancing or clubbing. Natasha comes along once, but then tells them she doesn’t want to sit around getting hit on by anyone so instead either goes to the movies or stays at Christopher’s apartment.

              He’s spent previous weeks on leave in New York, having sex with strangers, but this is a completely different experience. One he’s not going to forget in a hurry. For a start he has never had so much sex in such a short period of time, and it’s good sex, the guys that Christopher sends his way clearly more experienced and keen to give him good experiences or teach him how to give better blow jobs. It’s like each of the guys has undergone a screening process, and when one slips that he’s an ex of Patrick’s he realizes that maybe they have been. He can’t bring himself to care, not when he’ benefitting and enjoying it all.

…           …           …

              They get to Ice’s house and there’s a welcome home party and he can’t believe how big Tamsin and Petra have grown. It’s a vastly different experience to their brief time in San Fransisco but he’s glad they have two weeks and Natasha seems to take her role as surrogate big sister seriously, the four of them watching movies, or lying around with slices of cucumber over their eyes. Sarah snaps a picture of them like that, gets it printed and gives copies to both him and Natasha, along with a pile of other photos she’s taken while they’ve been staying.

              Of course, his birthday comes and he’s twenty-one. Maverick hands over an envelope and a key and he looks at it blankly.

              “What’s this?”

              “The deed to the house. It’s to go to you on your twenty-first birthday.”

              “But… what am I going to do with a house?”

              “Live in it?”

              “But… I’ll be deployed or away…”

              “Bradley, it’s the house your parents bought. What you do with it is up to you. I’d like to still live there of course…”

              “Of course! I mean, if you’re not moving in with Ice, then of course you can stay there. It’s just… nothing has to change right? It’s just a piece of paper?”

              “It’s just a piece of paper. And we’ll help navigate any legal stuff. And we won’t be moving in together any time soon,” Ice states, voice soft, but his expression is sad and Bradley wishes things were different.

…           …           …

              Tom wants to wrap himself around Maverick and never let him go. The amount he’s been away on deployment makes every moment they have together even more precious, and he’s starting to second guess his own rules, even if they’ve kept them both safe. He has two kids and an ex-wife which is a damned good cover, even if his best friend comes and stays frequently. He isn’t telling anyone that doesn’t already know, and no one is asking him, even if they have their suspicions.

              He hates the fact that Pete is now effectively homeless, not that Bradley would ever kick him out of the house, but Tom wants him to have somewhere that is his, and maybe not his alone, but something that would just light Pete up from the inside. The way flying does. He pauses mid-thought and thinks back to a couple of years ago, the Beechcraft and the airstrip, Mav taking Bradley up in the air. Huh. Not a plane, not yet, but there were hangars out there. And a hangar beside an airstrip is probably somewhere Pete would consider living if he thought it was a legitimate option. Not that he himself would want to live beside an airstrip, but this isn’t about him.

              He makes a few calls. Then a few more calls. He’s got to consider leases, and taxes and whether it might just make more sense to rent. He doesn’t want to rent though, wants to make some sort of large gesture and present it as a fait accompli that gives Maverick no wiggle-room to turn it down. He feels pretty confident it wouldn’t be turned away regardless, unless Mav was feeling particularly difficult on the day. Then he gets a call, someone had heard he was looking, and it’s an old Navy hangar, located at the very same airstrip and it feels serendipitous and he agrees to come out and have a look.

…           …           …

              Of course, with how much mentoring he’s doing with the Plebes come the questions, and he remembers his conversation with Ice, a couple of years ago now. When they ask him questions about his parents he simply pulls a face and shakes his head, ignores his own peers, fellow Firsts, who he can see from the corner of his eye who were shaking their heads at the Plebes, trying to stop them from simply asking.

              “My dad was a naval aviator who died in a Top Gun training incident in eighty-six and my mom died of cancer in ninety-four. I was raised by my step-father after that. Any other awkward questions you want answers to?”

              It’s probably why they never ask him or Natasha anything, and another First slaps the Plebe on the back, mutters I tried to warn you off asking but he doesn’t feel upset about it at all. It’s not at all a lie, even if his step-father would be here in a heartbeat if Bradley needed him to be. He knows that both Ice and Mav intend to attend his graduation in formal roles, and while they might night get to acknowledge their roles with each other in such a formal setting he doesn’t care. They want to be there and they’re planning to be there, special leave already requested and granted long ago, considering they’ll be in uniform.

              He and Natasha both work hard, both at their studies and also on their physical fitness. Their applications for flight school were submitted months ago, he really wants to go with her, can’t imagine not going without her. They’re both consistently in the top two or five percent, which he knows bodes well for them. Knows that their involvement with extra curriculars and being friendly with pretty much everyone has them well liked and respected. He just has to be patient and wait.

…           …           …

              They both look at the envelopes, slapping them on empty palms. They look identical, but unlike his USNA acceptance letter, this is a single piece of paper and it could be flight school acceptance, or a decline.

              “On the count of three?” Natasha asks and Bradley admires her courage.

              “Yeah. Three.”

              They rip them open.

…           …           …

              “I knew it!” Maverick screams, his joy palpable through the phone for their Saturday afternoon call. “Ice! Ice! He got in! Hold on, let me put you on speaker…”

              “Of course he did… well done Bradley. Congratulations.”

              He blows out a long breath, because he’s glad they have seemingly unshakeable confidence in his abilities. God, he never wants to disappoint them.

              “Thanks. Natasha got in as well.”

              “She’s a very capable young woman. Proud of you both. Please pass that on to her.”

              “Yeah, thanks. I will.”

              “Yeah, we’re both very proud. You can go back to work now. I’m going to go outside and talk to my godson…”

              He hears Ice mutter something in the background, not clear enough to make out, but then Mav is telling him off for rolling his eyes and he can just imagine what he said, the gentle laughter between them and he can’t help but smile.

              “So. did Ice tell you he bought me a hangar?”

              “He did what?” Bradley asks, because such a move seems like something Mav would make, rather than Ice.

              “He bought me a hangar. Said that I was obviously always welcome wherever he was, but that he knew I needed my own place and that I now had a space for the plane I’ve been eyeing up.”

              “You’ve been eying up a plane? Wait. A hangar. For you to live in? What about the house? You aren’t moving out are you?”

              “No. Of course not. But I’m going to be there as often as you are, probably less considering Ice has become a lot more, uh, relaxed about his stupid sleepover rules. The hangar isn’t currently habitable anyway. But there’s this P-51 Mustang I’ve been looking at. It’s beautiful.”

              “He proposed to you with an aircraft hangar. Oh my god, that’s so… romantic and practical of him.”

              “He didn’t propose.”

              “Mav. If a guy bought me an aircraft hangar what would you think about the guy?”

              “That he was crazy in love with you, and utterly committed… oh shit. I’ll call you back.”

              He is not surprised when he doesn’t get called back.

…           …           …

              He hadn’t expected it.

              They hadn’t warned him.

              The emotions of the day, coupled with the fact that they’d asked every single member of the 1986 Top Gun class there, along with a few other friends of both his parents. He clearly has the biggest cheering section and he feels like a mess inside, although outwardly he’s all smiles and calm togetherness. Four years of training helps with that at least. Ice and Mav are both up on the stage, part of the VIP section, along with several others who are still serving, and he recognizes them from his birthday a couple of years ago.

              “Did you know they were all going to be here?” Natasha asks, and he shakes his head, throat working against the tightness of his collar.

              There are photos, Ice agreeing to so many photos with newly minted graduates and Bradley lets them all go, fights his way through the crowds to find Mav. He and Ice can stage photos later, there will always be times when they’re in uniform. Just the fact that they’re here is more than enough and he’s so happy that he has had them supporting him every step of the way.

              “Captain Mitchell.”

              “Midshipman Bradshaw. Congratulations. Your father would be very proud. I flew with him you know?”

              Bradley blinks.

              Blinks again.

              Hopes his internal dialogue somehow is being telepathically beamed into Mav’s head.

              You are such a dick. Hopefully his expression does enough to convey his exasperation.

              “Really? I didn’t know that sir.”

              Mav gives him a shit-eating grin and Bradley wishes Ice were there to hit him around the head. Not that he would, not in this setting, but damn he sees why he’s always so tempted.

              “I’m going to have a photo with all the graduates who are going to be heading off to Corpus Christi for flight school. I think they want us over there.”

              It’s chaos. Positive and energetic happiness with everyone feeling the sense that they’re about to begin their careers, that they’ve made it through what is meant to be the hardest part, even if Bradley secretly thinks flight school might be even more challenging, it’s only for eighteen months. He manages to get photos with Maverick, Natasha and Ice and nearly every available combination. Then there are photos with the 1986 class, and he ignores the fact that several of the other men seem to shed a tear.

              Then it’s dispersing, the crowd thinning and families are gathering, taking more photos and he can see Sarah pushing through, the hands of Tamsin and Petra clasped and he grins, starts heading toward them, already thinking that Tamsin has grown a couple of inches, can see both his sisters pulling Sarah toward them before she decides to let them go.

              “Natasha! Natasha!��� Petra screams, and she’s running across the quad, hair streaming behind her with gold and navy ribbons mixed in, running past him and Natasha is grinning broadly, bending down to swoop Petra up in a hug. Bradley stands back up from where he’d been just about to scoop her up himself before she’d breezed past him.

              “Wow,” he says to Sarah as she comes to a stop to stand beside him.

              “Hurts doesn’t it?” Sarah says, not really asking and Bradley nods, murmuring a quiet yeah under his breath. He doesn’t begrudge Natasha the joy and love of his sisters, love isn’t in finite supply, it’s just a little hurtful to not even warrant a hello. He has to remind himself that Petra is only seven.

              “I love you Bradley,” Tamsin says, arms coming around his waist to give him a hug, as if she can tell how he’s feeling and he hugs her back.

              “Love you too Tam.”

              “You’re dressed up all fancy like Daddy and Papa.”

              “Yeah. You look pretty fancy in your dress too. Is that new?”

              “Yep. Mom bought is especially for today!”

              “We can look fancy together.”

              “Congratulations Bradley, we’re all very proud of you.”

              “Thanks.”

              “Are you proud of me? I go to school too,” Tamsin says, and Sarah looks heavenward and Bradley wonders if she’s been fielding questions like this for a while.

              “I’m proud of you, going to school can be really hard work somedays,” Bradley says.            

              “Daddy!” Tamsin says, and then Ice is there, pressing his cheek against Sarah’s in greeting and nodding at Bradley again.

              “Bradley! Up!” Petra demands, appearing at his side and Natasha is grinning.

              “Hello to you too Miss Petra, happy to be of service.”

              There are a few people doing a double take as they see who he is standing with, who he is clearly family with, but he cares less now. He’s finished here, no one can claim he played any favoritism card. He knows flight school will be different, wants to be in the air as soon as possible.

              He can’t wait.

CHAPTER SIX (2005)

[happilychee]

thinking about aromantic lucy

I saw a terf saying aspec people aren't actually queer so fuck them here's aromantic lucy heartfilia

cw: a few mentions of internalized arophobia

lucy who doesn't know that the word love exists until she reads it in one of the few fairytale books in her father's extensive library. lucy who doesn't quite get the kissing and the physicality and the fiery proclamations, but thinks that it's an okay price to pay for someone to be so passionate for her. to choose her and care about her, like her mother did before she passed.

lucy, who's eight years old and crying after another argument with her father, who summons aquarius and asks "do you love me?" aquarius feels her blood pressure rise, but seeing the broken look in her wielder's watery eyes, she decides to drop the snark. "I do, kid." "does that mean you wanna kiss me?" aquarius almost smacks lucy over the head.

lucy who doesn't quite understand the difference between how she cares for her spirits and how she felt about her mom. lucy who cares deeply for everyone who's important to her, who thinks that aquarius could just as easily be her knight in shining armor as the storybook prince. lucy who reads romance books because she wants someone like that in her life. lucy who's never had any friends besides aquarius. lucy who thinks it must be nice to have someone choose you, care about you, protect you. lucy decides that that's what love is.

lucy who's old enough to know she doesn't like her father. lucy who's so confused when she hates him but still cares about him. lucy who's old enough to run away from home but too young, too young.

lucy who joins fairy tail and has no idea what to expect. lucy who's startled by her new friends' openness and easy acceptance of her. lucy who blushes when natsu throws an arm around her, who feels warm and fuzzy when gray guides her by the small of her back, who has a lopsided grin on her face when erza links arms with her as they walk. lucy who suddenly thinks that she's in love with three people at once and panics (her storybooks never mentioned that!!).

lucy who turns to who she can confidently call her best friend, levy mcgarden, for help. levy sits her down with a cup of hot chocolate and cookies. they talk for hours about sexuality and attraction; lucy sleeps over that night. the word that sticks out the most in her mind is aromantic.

lucy who gets drunk at a party and gets a little too close to cana, and suddenly they're in cana's apartment, making out like there's no tomorrow. lucy who feels guilt creep up in the morning because she knows cana and gray and loke have something going, and she might've just ruined it. lucy who tears up when cana laughs because she's so, so confused. cana's expression morphs into concern and she wipes away her friend's tears, warm skin on skin. cana who tells lucy that what she does with gray and what she does with loke doesn't restrict her from what she does with other people. "we talked about it, I promise." cana reassures her. then, leaning in with a sexy smirk on her face, she whispers, "besides, they're probably jealous I took you home first~" the rush of heat is enough to make lucy's mind go blank with joy.

lucy who shyly asks cana about her relationships and learns so much she feels like her head is going to explode. lucy who has a crisis about her storybooks and her ideal romances. she's never going to have that, she realizes. it feels like someone's scooped out her chest.

lucy whose feelings ebb and flow like the tide. she's not used to this. being so... different. her storybooks are scattered across the floor, thrown in an angry fit. her door is locked, but her window isn't, and that's how natsu gets in. "you okay, luce? we haven’t seen you in a while."

the dam breaks. lucy sobs in natsu's arms, and all she can think is that this is the exact type of hurt/comfort scene she loves in her stories. she wishes she were normal, so she could love normally, so she could love natsu the normal way and be done with it. she doesn't realize she's talking out loud.

natsu cups her face, onyx eyes boring into chocolate ones. he squishes her cheeks together, the way he does when he thinks she's overthinking something. and then, natsu breaks through her entire crisis with three little words.

"does it matter?" he furrows his brow. "you're lucy, and I'm natsu, and I care about you." "but- I don't feel romantic attraction-" natsu huffs, frustrated that lucy's not getting something that's apparently obvious to him. "luce. I care about you, and I trust you, and I want to take care of you and protect you. who cares about anything else?" lucy blinks once, twice, and then she's sobbing again. natsu panics, because he knows he can be blunt and dismissive sometimes, but lucy barrels into him, clutching onto his scarf tightly.

"you care about me?" she whispers in a child's voice. that's more important to her than anything. romantic, platonic, the gray area in between, none of it matters as long as natsu cares.

natsu tightens his grip, wondering who he has to pummel for making his girl feel that way. "course I care about you, dummy. I'd burn down the world for you. and so would erza and gray and cana and everyone else."

lucy who has a really hard time moping when natsu's there every step of the way, trying to cheer her up. erza and gray show up, too, and it's hard to stay sad when she's being tickled by erza while gray cooks dinner and kicks natsu out of her kitchenette.

lucy who feels the hollow fill with something warm and gooey when erza gives her a hug, confessing that she often has trouble figuring out how she feels about anything. lucy laughs when erza tells her about the shenanigans that have happened when she doesn't pick up on someone flirting with her but gray and natsu do. she feels all fuzzy when gray leans against her, telling her that he feels the same way. his hand plays with hers, and she thinks it's nice how well they slot together.

lucy realizes when natsu falls asleep in her lap, arms wrapped protectively around her waist. lucy realizes when gray falls asleep at her side, erza tucked to his chest. lucy realizes that her friends make her feel like she's on top of the world, and she doesn't need a fairytale prince when she's got fairy tail.

[findafight]

I think the most insufferable part of the “Steve is the worst” refrain is that even when the change is acknowledged, they constantly make out like he’s on thin ice.

But the funniest part has to be that they write this whilst also having pretty much every new main cast member they add to show take a shine to him;

Billy just wants Steve to pay attention to him (and was bitterly disappointed that Steve was just some dude and not the raging asshole that everyone’s told him about)

Max hates teenage boys, but concludes she has found the one good one

Robin enjoys his company despite herself and becomes soul bonded to him

Eddie ends up being straight (I’m sorry) up *enchanted* by Steve, and we have a whole scene of him trying desperately to communicate this to him - of course Nancy wants you, dude! Who wouldn’t?

I know we’ve joked about Joe’s charisma, but canonically Steve’s must be *otherworldly*. Clearly the only reason Nancy didn’t let him fuck that old man was because the writers needed to make things difficult for them.

The show simultaneously trying to remind us Steve used to be a dick but is actually the most charming lad in all the land and is everybody's favourite most specialest boy. Like they try to make us remember Steve being mean but then it's also telling us he's a silly billy driving his bestie to school without questioning it and not knowing she doesn't even know how to drive. How are we supposed to think he's gonna backslide.

Lmaooo billy being disappointed Steve's not an asshole. It's no fun winning for him if it wasn't actually a competition :(

Max: no teenage boys allowed

Steve and Lucas: *exist*

Max: okay I will make an exception because they seem very nice

Dustin just consistently telling everyone he meets Steve is the coolest most badass person alive. Can you imagine the hero worship Suzie has heard?? (Suzie is also a Steve Stan and she hasn't even MET him)

Robin spends one month in close proximity to Steve and she's like well. Guess he's my best friend now!! And she was probably actively trying to not like him! And yet here we are! She liked him before they got tortured and she was probably so ticked off about how she, too, has fallen platonically for the Harrington charm. Not fair. Embarrassing.

Eddie spends less than a week around Steve and immediately joins his little cheer squad with Robin and Dustin. Like, if they wanted us to know that Steve was a dick to people for no reason in highschool Eddie would've been the person to use to demonstrate that, or the tension between who he was and who he is, but they don't! Eddie just admits he made assumptions about Steve without knowing much about him other than his rich parents and big house and popularity with girls, (saying more about himself than Steve) and then immediately jumps on the Steve bandwagon because now he can't understand why anyone who spent any amount of time with Steve wouldn't like him!

Even Nancy wasn't immune to Steve's charms in S4, and she had previously broken up with him messily! But all it took was a little bit of the town in danger and Steve trying to make sure everyone's on the same page while Looking Good for her to be Gazing Lustfully at him. That's why S2 and S3 had them separate for so long. Too long around him and she'd remember that she does find him cute and funny and brave and also hot.

Reasons Nancy stopped Steve from Fucking That Old Man: 1) writers needed them finding out info to be more of a struggle 2) they also probably didn't want a middle aged supposedly professional man sleeping with one of their teenage characters I guess 3) Nancy would have been wild with jealousy about the whole thing and stancy revival would have been much more obvious earlier, much more Nancy driven, and much funnier.

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 13

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Masterlist

“This is so weird, Liv…” Micky says.

“What is?”

“You. Like… I've seen you dancing around and singing before, but you had never looked this happy. You had never smiled like that. And it is… weird.”

“Oh, so you prefer it when I look sad and ready to murder someone?”

“You know I love your smile, Liv.”

“Yeah, I know” I reply, my cheeks getting warm as I remember how he had told me the same thing before we made out during the team's Christmas party a couple of years ago. He was the new guy and he was so tall, and blonde, and nice, and charming, and basically so different from everyone else that… Yeah.

Nothing else happened after that, but we've stayed as really good friends. And now that I think of it, he may have been the reason why Alex went from being indifferent towards football players to disliking them so much. He had caught us kissing, and what had I done when I saw him? Just shrug and kiss Micky again. That must have hurt him a lot. 

“Are you going to tell me what is making you smile like this, tho?” Micky asks.

“Nope.”

“I will” Madders says, joining us. 

“You won't dare” I say, threatening him with a spoon.

“I was just going to tell him that you look happier because you've added rice to your diet. Quite frequently according to what I've been told.”

“James!” 

“Eating rice is making you happier?” Micky asks with a confused look.

“Not just rice. The rice” Madders smirks.

“I'm fucking murdering you, James Maddison.”

“The… Oh my God” Micky says, his eyes wide. “Liv! What did I tell you?”

“A load of bullshit as per usual” I shrug.

“A load of… whatever. Does anyone else know?”

“Unless Mr. Maddison here tells someone else, just you two, Kennedy and Olga.”

“Wait, she knows? Since when?” Madders says.

“I had to tell her because of all the flowers I've been receiving, she would not let it go. Oh, and Alex also knows.”

“Alex? You told him?”

“He found out when he saw one of the notes that came with the flowers.”

“So that's why he's been looking more miserable than usual, uh? You broke his heart, Liv.”

“I didn't mean to. I had no idea he was in love with me until he confessed all his feelings on my birthday.”

“You didn't know?” Micky laughs. “C'mon, Liv. Everyone here knows Alex is in love with you.”

“Everyone but her” Madders chuckles.

“If it was so obvious, why didn't you tell me? Aren't you my friends?”

“I didn't tell you anything because I didn't expect you to be so blind” Micky shrugs. “Anyway, are you and Declan dating, then?”

“No. We are just friends.”

“Do friends sleep together now?” 

“It's… complicated” I say, nervously playing with the spoon in my hand.

“Dear God, Liv… You've fallen in love with him!”

“I haven't.”

“Liv…” Micky sighs. “We haven't known each other for that long, but I can read you like an open book. You've fallen in love with Declan.”

“Lower down your voice!” I hiss. “And I haven't, ok? We are just friends who sometimes make out among other things. Nothing else.”

“Liv, you must tell him about your feelings before you get hurt.”

“Agree on that” Madders says. 

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because it isn't that easy, you know? And what if he doesn't feel the same?” 

“Well, better to know that now when, at least according to what you say, you aren't in love with him, than later when it will definitely break your heart” Micky says.

“Agree on that too. Though if you ask me, I think he feels the same for you” Madders smirks.

“Yeah, well, I'm not so sure of that. Because one moment he is doing all these romantic things and taking me on the best dates ever, and the next he forgets I exist for a week and doesn't even text me to ask me how my day was. Kennedy says that that's how you men work but… I don't know” I sigh.

“If you have so many doubts, then you know what you have to do, Liv.”

“Next time you go eat the rice, preferably before you do it, you sit down with him and tell him about your feelings” Madders says.

“You seriously need to stop with the joke about eating rice. It isn't funny.”

“But you are sleeping with the enemy, Liv. We have to use some kind of code to talk about it, anyone could hear us. Like your dad, for example.” 

“Don't jinx it!” I say, looking for something made of wood and quickly touching it. Could touch his head, but it probably is empty. 

“Sorry” Madders shrugs. “Anyway, we should probably go back with the rest of the team to get our asses kicked. And in the meantime, you better think how to tell a certain someone that you love him.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“We are serious, Liv” Micky says.

“I know. Thank you, guys.”

“Anything for you” he smiles before leaving me alone in the cafeteria, my head about to explode.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, stop checking your phone. He isn't gonna text you” Olga says.

“I was just checking the time.”

“Yes, of course” she snorts. 

“I was” I insist. But that's a lie. I was checking if Declan had texted me, if maybe my signal was weak and the messages weren't coming through. But everything is fine, just like all the other three hundred and twenty five times I've checked. 

“He is ghosting you, Liv. Again. I don't know why don't you end things with him, he clearly isn't worth it despite everything that Madders tells you.”

“It isn't that easy, Olga.”

“Is the sex that good?” she smirks.

“Shut up” I say, trying to hit her. “It isn't easy for other reasons.”

“Like that you have fallen in love with him.”

“I... Yeah” I sigh.

I've fallen in love with Declan. It's official. And it also is official that I haven't told him about it. I tried to, but… It was impossible.

Since my chat with Madders and Micky and until the end of the season we met almost daily, but I just couldn't find the right moment to sit down and talk about it. If we weren't out on a date, we would stay at his place, and I always was so focused on enjoying our time together and him, that I couldn't think about anything else. Especially when I was enjoying him if you know what I mean. Then we both went on holidays, and the silence started.

Olga and I are in the south of Spain having some girl time that we have been planning since Christmas, while Declan is in Las Vegas with a very questionable company that has already made him be in the newspapers more than once, a bunch of girls surrounding him on all the photos that have been published. And has that made me jealous? Made me feel like shit and doubt everything that has been happening these past months between us? Definitely. Especially because I've texted him a few times just asking him how he is, if he is having fun, and I still haven't received an answer. And by the looks of it, I won't be getting it any time soon.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

It's been two weeks since Olga and I were in Spain, and yes, you've guessed it. Still no word from Declan. But if I want to know what he is doing, I just have to check the papers.

After Las Vegas he went to Ibiza to meet with some of his other football friends. During the day you can find them relaxing on a boat as big as my parents house, and at night in the best clubs in the city. And always, always… He is surrounded by a group of stunning women. 

But as if seeing that wasn't enough, I have Alex reminding me of it daily. 

Our families have been going on holidays together since we were kids, and this year nothing has changed despite what has happened between us. So here I am, in a small town in Portugal, having to listen to Alex tell me how Declan was talking with a brunette, or laughing with a blonde while looking very cosy. 

“Oh, wow. You are gonna want to see this, Liv” he says after breakfast. We are chilling in the garden of the house where we are staying, our parents gone to do the daily grocery shopping.

“See what?”

“This” he says, showing me his phone. “Looks like the rumours about Declan and that singer were more than that and that they… Liv, hey. Are you ok?”

“Yes” I murmur, quickly getting up from my deckchair. 

“Liv, you've gone so pale… Are you sure you are ok?”

“I am, Alex. Let me go” I say, avoiding his hand when he tries to touch me. “I have to go.”

“Liv, I'm sorry. Liv… Olivia!” he calls. But I'm not listening anymore. I'm too busy trying to remember how to breathe and to not cry until I'm locked in my room, the photos he just showed me already engraved in my brain, playing over and over again. 

Declan with the singer from those awards he attended a few months ago, the one who had said she had a crush on him. Declan and that girl hugging, laughing. Her sitting on his lap, his hand on her thigh… and Declan and her kissing.

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

I finished the second episode of Heartstopper last night (wanted to post about it yesterday, but I was too tired from work), so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order for you now.

Good on Nick for checking up on Charlie after what happened. I found it odd, though, that he seemed more emotional about it than Charlie, but I guess they're in two very different places, mentally. One being 'why do I seem to like this guy way more than my other friends?' & the other being 'omg stop being so nice to me, your straight!' lol. Plus, I get that everyone deals with stuff in their own way & poor Charlie is probably so used to being mistreated that he might just be repressing the full weight of how his feeling as a copeing mechanism. It was also probably very cathartic to finally tell someone everything that happened between him & Ben (as I'm guessing he kept most if not all of it a secret from his friends & sister).

WE FINALLY MEET NELLIE!!!! And she is as cute as I'd hoped (though for some reason I expected her to be a different colour).

Sorry, Charlie, but Tori's right. Your hair looks exactly the same. Also, love that they kept the gag from the novel about her scaring him with her, always showing up suddenly without warning.

Nice to see that the outfits are on point for our boys so far with the plaid/black jeans (trying to impress someone, I see Charlie) & T-shirt/joggers (also what product is Miss Nelson using coz Nick's tops look soft as hell).

Wait, what season is it supposed to be because it looked really sunny when Charlie was walking to Nick's house (I know he was wearing a coat & hat but Charlie is always cold) but then suddenly it's snowing? Idk when Alice first came up with this story, but as a Brit, I haven't seen proper full on Snow since I was probably around eight years old. But hey, maybe in the Heartstopper universe, global warming doesn't exist.

I don’t care what anyone says, I will never get the fun of a snowball fight. If I go somewhere with a friend & they start throwing stuff at me, I'm leaving! Also, picking it up with your bare hands? One, it's been on the ground 🤢, and two, where are your gloves? Do you not feel the cold? Snow angles do look fun until I think about how my entire behind would be frozen/damp. Sorry if that makes me a "stick in the mud", I don't care 😝.

Damn, that is one photogenic dog & and aww, they already look like a couple. Also, give it up for Nick's freckles, the real star of the show 👏.

Omg, being in the same group as someone you hate must be so hard, but I get why Nick can't really say anything about what Ben did, at least not right now. Also, what is up with that Imogen girl? Mind your damn business.

I think it's good we get to see Elle longing for a bond with other girls that she just can't get from her male friend group. Makes her transition feel more fleshed out (for lack of a better word), you know?

Yay, we finally meet Tara & Darcy & they're exactly how I thought they'd be (except I imagined Darcy with brown hair for some reason). Ooh I didn't know Elle was artistic. I wanna decorate pencil cases now. Tara's pink puffa coat is so cute. What is up with adults dictating how long kids' hair can be? Like who gives a fuck! Also "gal pals" had me 😆.

Oh, thank god, it's just misinformation. For a second, I thought Tao was making shit up just to make Charlie get over his crush. Are kids really like that, though? I can't imagine kissing someone once & having people insist, I'm madly in love with them to this day, like move on already.

Ok, I officially really like the gay teacher, lol.

Love Charlie's sweater & Nick's coats are also very nice. Where are these kids getting their clothes? Coz I'm embarrassed by most of the stuff I wore as a teenager.

The big hoodie moment should be cute, but I just can't help thinking about how skinny Charlie is, which makes me ☹️.

Ok, so I didn't care much for the leaf animation in the first episode, but omg, the little fire crackles when Nick was trying to hold Charlie's hand? Screaming, crying, throwing up!!!!!!! & the hug before he left? Fucking crops watered for life, bitch!

Was digging Elle's outfit, very 70's vibes.

Ah, so their "secret" is out. Also obligatory: 🗣 LET'S GO LESBIANS LET'S GO 🗣

Can't wait for the next episode, but I practically passed out after watching episode 2 (manual labour is hard, kids 😭), so maybe I hallucinated, but did that Imogen girl ask Nick out? I thought she was daiting Ben? Or is that a different girl?

PS. I found out Aled won't be in the show, which I accept & the only reason I haven't talked about Isaac is because he hasn't really done much yet

[soullessjack]

so one of my other problems with babyjack is that the fandom just seems to have this sort of collective cognitive dissonance about it, in almost any context or discussion. like this post as probably my only standing example (bc it’s the only one to have gotten traction), there are all these tags about how babyjack leads to bad dean criticism, or how it’s nice in aus but they want canon complex jack, and like I’m not entirely disagreeing with that, but it is so fucking frustrating that people are still ignoring the actual problem with it and either only focusing on the most surface level issues that personally affect them or their corner of the fandom, or making up some point of acceptability for it that frankly isn’t theirs to make.

it’s the autistic experience of our struggles never being seen or cared about until they become other people’s inconveniences, and our voices being used to say something else entirely. when the main takeaway of that post is how the fandom’s treatment of jack being in a way he’s explicitly shown to hate being treated directly mirrors autistic people’s struggle for autonomy in the real world, I really do not need you to make it about how it makes your golden website boy dean look like a big meanie pants, okay? that’s definitely a part of it, but it’s not at all what we are talking about, and it 100% should not be the only reason you care.

and especially when the other takeaway is how this is just a smaller scale issue that comes from autistic infantilization, the absolute last take I want to hear is that you find that infantilization acceptable as long it’s an AU or something else separated from canon. believe me, I’m beyond glad more people actually prefer canon complex jack—like, I don’t think you guys understand that that is legitimately a rarity to find here— but the thing about babyjack is that the concept itself is inherently ableist, and directly relies on his complexities (and the representation he means for us) being removed and erased so that he can even exist in the context of those AU’s. It feels very… ‘have your cake and eat it too’ to me.

I’m trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but I am also tired of having to force civility on a problem that’s pretty much just an open secret thar everyone collectively ignores and beats bushes around solely because they prioritize #domesticdestiel over all. I mean, do you guys even hear yourselves sometimes? Like half of it just boils down to “Autistic infantilization is always bad, except for this one context where it makes my ship look domestic and redeems my blorbo,” and it’s getting really fucking annoying to have to constantly explain something that is not only painfully easy to understand, but is understood and actively ignored, and still play nice so that somebody out there might listen.

So many people will say they like canon Jack and want more of him from the fandom, and I more than agree, but motherfucker you have a blog! You have the tools! Be the change you want to see! He doesn’t have to be your fav or your blog thesis blorbo, but if you want it, you are literally fully equipped to make it! Write some meta, draw some fanart, whatever. Better yet, you could even stop engaging with and perpetuating content that actively pushes down on what you want and, I must reiterate, is actively harmful and ableist. If you want domestic silliness go right ahead, but you don’t need to resort to ableism to do it.

I don’t think I’m asking too much or asking rudely, and frankly I don’t even think I owe niceties to anyone when it’s a problem that has been openly ignored for 6 years and holds plenty of bearing in the real world concerning my identity and community and shit we face constantly. Outside of our screens, we are constantly fighting for autonomy and recognition and representation, and even to be seen as people. Online spaces, especially fandom spaces, are a huge source of escapism and support that we wouldn’t get otherwise. So for the love of god, please stop bringing that fight here.

[navree]

I saw your post and got super worried because I assumed it was the artist I've loved since they started here on tumblr. So, I went on the dreaded 🐦 app and low & behold, stan culture ruins things once again! Kinda glad I wasn't around during the heyday of GOT because it must've been absolutely insufferable! 😖😖😖

Fandom during GOT's prime must have been insane already, but I do think it's gotten worse in recent years. There used to be the unspoken rule of "if you've got nothing nice to say don't say anything at all" that appears to have completely vanished from fandom spaces. Cuz if I see a post with an opinion I don't like/agree with, or fanart of a character I don't care for, or fic of a ship that I dislike, I'm not gonna leap down OP's throat about it. I'm just gonna scroll, maybe vague post about it on another app (I've vague posted about some dumb Twitter opinions on here on occasion), and then move on. But this idea that, if someone doesn't like the same things you like, they're not only morally reprehensible but personally committing some kind of wrong against you specifically is insane. It's more than that trend I've mentioned about trying to equate fandom with morality, it is, as I said in the tags of that post, something that reeks of insecurity. There's a bunch of people in varying fandom spaces that feel that their own opinions simply must be validated, because their opinions are correct, but it's not enough for them to think it, other people need to think it too.

And it's an issue that has dominated Team Black in HOTD specifically. Cuz I'm not seeing it from Rhaenicents, from Greens, even from show casuals. It's diehard Team Black and primarily TB book purists at that who find Rhaenicent fanart (especially ones that take Emma D'Arcy's actual appearance into account), or Team Green posts, or even regular posts expressing any sort of appreciation for Team Green actors or sympathy for some of the characters (especially Alicent or Helaena) and just lose their minds. Insult the poster or the artist, deride actor's appearances, weaponize actual political language to support their point despite no real tangible thread of connection ('killing Lucerys is basically femicide' omegas aren't a real thing and killing that boring ass boy is not, in fact, femicide, there are actual femicides happening in the real world right now, focus on those), and get hopping mad at the fact that these varied posts exist. It's greed to an almost biblical proportion tbf, it's not enough that most show casuals agree with their opinions, that most people with both book and show knowledge are on their side, that the narrative of the show supports their views (in the Jaehaera art thing specifically, that canon dictates she's gonna die and that Daenaera and Aegon are gonna be married and have a reasonably happy married life). Everyone needs to be on their side, nobody had better dare have opposing views to their's. And if those opposing views exist, well then those people have earned all the nastiness that's gonna get thrown their way for having those opposing views.

Like, you're that insecure? You need everyone to agree with you in order to hold fandom opinions? You can't just like something for your own reasons and ignore people who don't agree? Other people, people who don't even know you exist, hold that much power over you? Team Black, are you guys really so pathetically weak?

Anyway, fuck people who tag butch Rhaenicent art with snippy "Daemicent!!!" quote tweets, fuck people running TG fanartists off of social media because you can't handle drawings, fuck people going up to actors and saying vile shit to them based on their characters, fuck everyone who tries to be an asshole about Olivia's looks or TGC's looks or Phia's looks, and fuck stan culture. Everyone's who's so deranged about their fictional opinions that they act nasty to real human beings should simply find the nearest noose and hang themselves by the neck until dead, the world will be an infinitely better place and no one will miss them.

[beevean]

Give each NFCV and Nocturne character ratings, as in scores :P

Why must you hurt me in this way.

Trevor: 7/10. A cliché personality, but enjoyable enough, and with a nice mini arc in S1. Too bad he was turned from protagonist to silly comic relief by S2.

Sypha: 5/10. She's supposed to be the plucky innocent girl, but she's just too rude and insensitive, and not even by design.

Alucard: 1/10. A cunt with a bad boob job.

Dracula: 9/10 in S1, 5/10 in S2. He started out so well in the first episode, being actually the grief-stricken monster he was supposed to be... and then he became a Stupid Old Depressed Man for the sake of propping up Carmilla. bruh.

Lisa: 4/10. Way less likeable than she appears. She's condescending towards the peasants she supposedly wants to help and she doesn't give a single shit about her only son, even preferring to let him grieve the death of his parents.

Hector: 8/10 in S2, 5/10 in S3, 2/10 in S4. Started out as a promising character with an unique worldview and genuinely morally grey. Became nothing more than a punching bag for Ellis, losing his personality and dignity in one fell swoop. Will always be remembered as the dude who fell for vampire pussy. The way he was written in S4, which was supposed to "fix" him, makes me want to destroy a house by punching it.

Isaac: 2/10. He gains some points by being the only character with a coherent character arc, even if rushed like hell. But he's still a pretentious prick who got unfairly sucked off by the story and nowhere near as "deep" as his fans tout - he was just lucky to be the only character written with respect in the shitstorm that was S3.

Carmilla: 3/10. She's like Mephiles and Starline all rolled into one unlikable OC villain who only exists to paint Dracula in a bad light. She seems like a mastermind manipulator only because everyone around her lost IQ points exponentially. She became utterly irrelevant after S2 and had a grandiose death for nothing. She could have been much more, but this is what happens when a sexist pig writes a radfem villain.

Lenore: 1/10. That one point is because she had the potential to be an interesting, fleshed out antagonist with again an intriguing grey morality. But she had the misfortune of being written by a hack who can't give his characters a consistent personality and a sex pest with a clear dommy mommy fetish, so she became rape apologism bait and now she pisses me off at sight :D

The Lesbians: who?/10. Waste of good character designs. At least Striga was used for Berserk bait.

The Japanese not-twins: 0/10. Completely pointess torture porn fodder.

St. Germain: 8/10 in S3, 5/10 in S4. Pretty enjoyable in his first appearance, and surprisingly faithful to the game counterpart in spirit. I didn't even mind his descent into villainy, in theory. But let's just say that his motivation is... lacking. and hilarious.

Death: fuck/10. He's the ShTH of NFCV.

Richter: 6/10. Not too bad? I don't understand the hatred for him. He's perfectly inoffensive, if not bland. The only line that made me go "bruh" was him correcting the girls about the meaning of "fraternity" lol

Maria: 4/10. This is not a character. This is a parody of a communist teen on Twitter.

Annette: 1/10. As I said multiple times, she doesn't feel like a character, but as carefully engineered rage bait.

Tera: don't care/10.

Abbot: 4/10. I would care about his conflict more if he wasn't the stupidest man alive. Also his Devil Forging machine sucks ass.

Cecile: 3/10. Maybe don't teach your student that she is perfectly in the right in looking down her white French friends...?

Edouard: WHEN I'M LAID/10.

Olrox: 7/10. As for now, he's fairly interesting, mainly because of his intrigue. A bit too try hard, though.

Bara Agent Stone: bro really was shocked at the abbot having a child when he was happily sticking his dick in a male vampire/10

Sun Thundercat: 0/10. By far the worst villain I've ever seen in any kind of story.

Tiddied Isaac: 4/10. I would like her more for her unapologetic style (calling it "personality" is a stretch) if she didn't expose the sheer hypocrisy in the fandom :^)

[tranakin-skywalker]

u mentioned in an answer about anakin's friends, and while honestly i think if he had stayed in contact with his mother he would be 10% more normal and 10% more fucked up but in a different direction (shmi's learned helplessness would translate into anakin directly being a little more subservient and cautious to everyone around him, but on the other hand shmi would be like, undoing all the grooming palpatine is doing by going 'DO NOT TRUST THIS MAN' while anakin is actually honest to her about what hes lying to the jedi about) or like. at least one of his normal childhood friends (who in legends canonically didn't believe that anakin was vader because they remember him as too kind) but u said he would be besties with sabe and like.

i now must scream at u about my fucked up metamour anisabe my beloved. they love the same woman in ways that no one else apart from them could understand and she looks just like her (if u can look me in the eye and tell me that sabedala isn't toxic you're lying) while he is the one whom she married. she went back to free shmi while anakin never did but he was the one who found her only for her to die in his arms. if it were a polyamourous thing they'd be the only person that the other wouldn't be jealous of because padme loved sabe first and she still fell in love with anakin and she still didn't stop loving sabe but they're still a little jealous. they would both give their lives for her. in a better world they conspire ways to make her scream and also who babysits so the other can have a date night with padme but they're also angsting about the fact that the other has something with her that they can never have. if they ever have sex post padme's death they're both thinking of her the entire time and they only marry so sabe can have custody of the children. anakin is the only person to see sabe as something other than an extension of padme and its only because he sees her as a love rival instead. padme thinks she's cheating on anakin for the beginning of the relationship but sabe and anakin are just coordinating to not have to look at each other. padme has a type and its hypercompetent abolitionists more devoted to her than they are to their principles

sorry for the long ask i just have a lot of feelings about Them (anisabe). i hope u have a nice day

Anakin and Sabe in any relationship context be it romantic or platonic wouldn't be comprehensible to any other lifeform nor would it probably be very healthy, but fuck if it wouldn't be entertaining. I think that's why I like the idea of it. They would just exist on a totally different wavelength.

Just the amount of intense jealousy and competitiveness that would exist between them would make everyone else think that they hated each others guts but if you bring that up they're like "what? No? That's one of my best friends."

I think something that tends to get forgotten is that Anakin and Sabe would have met in TPM, and that's an event that would color the rest of their relationship. Obviously they didn't interact nearly as much as Anakin and Padme did, but they were still existing in close proximity to one another for an extended period of time. Travel time between Naboo/Tatooine and Coruscant used to be about 8 days before Disney fucked it up, so that's 16 days of just being stuck on a ship together, not to mention the before and after of the Battle of Naboo. I refuse to believe they didn't interact at all during any of that.

Anakin's first impression of Sabe would have been as Queen of Naboo, and then as this girl so loyal to Padme that she was willing to die in her place. Likewise, Sabe would have known Anakin as this little boy who is the only reason why they were able to get off of Tatooine and, later, as the reason why they were able to win the Battle of Naboo. No matter their interactions as adults, that history still exists.

I do think that there would be a lot of very complicated feelings between them and a general love-hate thing going on. Like you said, they both did what the other wanted to but couldn't re: with Shmi and Padme. But I think that they would bond in a way that no one else could really understand.

The things that Sabe would have seen and experienced while helping to free slaves on Tatooine isn't something that most other people can relate too, and even fewer could be able to understand the fury and despair over the Republic doing nothing about it. Anakin would be one of the very few people who gets that.

They were both raised since a young age with this expectation that they would be willing to kill and die for a higher cause, one a Queen and the other the Republic. Their lived experiences are just so fucking bonkers, and honestly I think there's a lot of similarities between them and the thinks that they went through. Makes for some good bonding I guess.

[infecto-groovalistic]

From the first moment I laid eyes upon him, I decided I liked him. That was saying something, because I don’t much like anyone. I can’t afford to like or trust anyone. Not anymore.

He slunk in one morning, head down, eyes x-raying the floor, shoulders tense and overall trying to look like he didn’t exist. I saw him appear in the doorway and quickly slip into the armchair Magda pointed out to him. He didn’t look around or make a noise or speak. He just sat there, as straight as he could in the sagging cushions of the blue and white striped armchair. He clasped his hands together tightly and placed them carefully on his lap, the thumbs facing the ceiling. A moment later his hands unclasped and one hand flew to his mouth where he began gnawing on a fingernail. Then, as though realising the full extent of his habit, he removed his fingers from his mouth and reclasped his hands back in his lap. Then he began to twiddle his thumbs instead. My eyes drifted away from the distracting hands and to his face. God, he was young. Too young to be in a place like this. He must be pretty fucked up. His face was pale, like it had been cast in moonlight. I twisted my head to check his eyes. His face may have looked like moonlight, but there were definitely no stars in his eyes. They were hazel, I could tell. I couldn’t see. But I didn’t need to see. I just knew. He had the whole ‘poor baby’ thing going too, but, to his credit, he wasn’t exploiting it. On my first days I would’ve killed to have the “poor little victim baby” thing going.

A shout of laughter rippled through the room and he jumped. Scared, he cautiously looked up only to find everyone fixated on the stupid television. He took a quick glance around the room, assuming everyone was watching the television. I wasn’t. I was still watching him. I focused on his lips now. Straightaway I could tell that those lips had touched another person and was disappointed. But there was no love on his face. There were no remnants of who had kissed him in his eyes or mouth or soul. He had hidden the memory of them inside of him and that distinctly annoyed me. If people hide things, then they have to actually look to find them. It’s okay if you lose them, or misplace them, or put them somewhere else, you can still stumble across them. Just like your first kiss. If it was a good memory, don’t try and hide it somewhere – just put it somewhere. If you hide it, you’ll never just stumble across it. But, if you forget it or misplace it, you never know when it might come back. You never know when it’ll pop up in your subconscious and give you a nice surprise. But if it’s a bad kiss, you try to forget and lose the memory so you’ll never stumble across it again. It’s quite sad actually when people forget to lose a memory and are haunted by it for the rest of their lives. But the brain is not just like a filing system, or a big tunnel with two exits saying ‘keep’ or ‘chuck’. You can’t physically file your memories; you don’t actually get to decide which ones you lose for good or which ones you simply misplace. I’m the only one who knows this, so, naturally, I know how to do it. If I’m really bored and Jasper is not here I sort through the week’s memories and file them, but a lot of the time I just let them go, it’s no big deal once you’ve cracked the secret. Though I bet if anyone else did it would be groundbreaking. Imagine being able to lose memories of a tragic childhood incidence or forget all the deaths you’ve witnessed. Think of how much a doctor or an ambulance officer would give to be able to forget things like that.

So, that’s how all memories work. Don’t ask me how I know – I just know. And now you know, so if I hear of a groundbreaking new study about memories I’ll know. I’ll even understand if you don’t credit me. After all, I’m just a teenage kid and that doesn’t give me much credibility, does it?

Back to the new kid. He’s taken up staring at the TV now, instead of his lap. I hate that TV! Doesn’t anyone realise how easily that box kills your brain cells? Annoyed, I ground my teeth together so hard Ben turned around.

“That’s not a good idea now, is it?” he said in his annoyingly calm, orderly way.

I purposely rolled my eyes and ceased the grinding. I don’t want to be here. I hated TV time. They think that we’re all so interested in who gets voted off American Idol. Who cares? Half of them can’t sing anyway. My money’s on the chick, and I don’t even watch the show. She’s gonna win though, I knew it. I shuffled in my armchair so my back is resting against one padded arm and my legs are propped over the other. Another ripple of laughter courses the room and I glanced at the television, wondering what was so funny about American Idol. Only, it’s not Idol that on but some crap TV sitcom. Holy shit! Quick! I need something to gouge my eyes out with and deafen myself with before too much of this stupidity seeps into my brain. Somebody must’ve changed the channel because now that I think about it, I don’t recall the sounds of American Idol at all this session. I must be slipping. How could I let such a little observation slip past me? Oh yeah, it was the arrival of that new kid. The one with messy, once-styled black hair. I could still smell the gel he used to use in it. Yeah, of course he’s washed it since he came here, but, like I said, I know stuff. And I know he used to gel his hair.

There is a quiet click but to my ears it is so loud because I have been awaiting it all day. The TV is off! Hallelujah!

“Lunchtime!” said Magda in an overly cheery voice, beaming at us all.

I moaned and purposely took my time unhooking my legs from the arms of the chair. I desperately hoped Ben didn't decide to wait for me. However, he’s not waiting for me but instead for the new little black haired kid who was sitting trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in his armchair. He offered a hand to the kid to pull him out of the chair. The black-haired kid learnt the hard way how difficult it is to extract yourself from the cushions of that particular chair. It swallows you in; sucks your arse in the base of the chair. I chuckled as he gripped the arm and tried to haul himself out.

“Here, let me help. Can I touch your arm?” Ben asked carefully, his hand still extended and quite close to the boy’s.

The little victim shook his head violently and retracted his hands, terrified, clutching them close into his body, staring up at Ben like he was threatening him. Ben holds up his hands hastily, indicating no contest.

I raised an eyebrow to myself and passed Ben on my way to the door. I paused, my back facing the two and shook my head slowly. I turned back around to face them both, smirking.

“What are you smirking at, Gerard?” Ben snapped, watching the kid and looking defeated.

I raised a finger to indicate patience then began to slowly undo the tie around my neck. Slowly, systematically, and carefully I undid it, preferring to reverse every step rather than loosen it. I took it off my neck and dangled it in front of the kid’s chair. He’s watching me with such intense scrutiny I’m quite affronted. If I was mocking him, he would know, and would not have to resort to attempting to read me. He finally decided my intentions were pure, or whatever; he just finally took the loop of the tie I held out to him. In one swift motion I hauled him out onto his feet. He staggered for a bit but I didn’t move to steady him. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. I had to respect that. If he fell and cracked his head, I wouldn’t touch him. If it was against his wishes to be touched, then I wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t that hard to comprehend.

Once out of the chair he was steadily going bright red. I let go of the tie and it fell, slack, in his hands. He bundled it up and held it out to me. I shook my head and made my way to lunch; I was hungry, after all.

I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE IM GOING TO SMASH YOUR DANGER DAYS CD ALSO KILL YOURSELF