#it's a little cathartic to talk about this i suppose

[rainbow-nerdss]

The Abby of it all

(figured I should get what I've got of this posted before tonight... Just in case 👀)

Buck shouldn't be upset about this. It's been years, the mention of Abby should not send him into a spiral. He's happy right now! He's in a good place, with Tommy, and with his life in general. The only thing missing is Chris, and… he's hopeful there, too.

But, he supposes, this wasn't just a mention of her.

They'd been having the exes talk, him and Tommy. Kind of intense, kind of emotional, but necessary and a little bit cathartic, too. It started when the news came on, Taylor's face filling the screen. Buck groaned.

"Ugh, can we change the channel?"

"What? You don't like news reports about corporate espionage?" Tommy asks.

"No, uh... We used to date." He nods at the screen, grimacing.

"Huh." Tommy squints for a moment, and hits the power button on the TV remote. "Gotta be awkward, seeing your ex on TV?"

"You have no idea." Buck starts talking about his first date with Natalia, then Taylor, and after a while Tommy picks up the thread, talking about the last guy he dated. They bounce back and forth, no particular direction to the conversation, until Buck realises something.

"You haven't mentioned... What about before? Did you ever, you know, date women before you came out?"

Tommy sucks his teeth for a second, then nods. "Yeah. I don't talk about that much—I'm not the proudest of it, but I actually had a pretty serious relationship with a woman while I was still with the 118."

"Really?" Buck asks, voice neutral while Tommy gathers his thoughts.

"Yeah. It was... Good, I thought. Until I met her brother, and thought: damn, he's hot."

Buck throws his head back and laughs. "You did not sleep with her brother!"

Tommy snorts a little. "No! God, no. He was happily married to a woman, had a kid on the way and all. Nah, it was just a moment of: shit, I really can't keep pretending this isn't a fact about me. You know?"

Buck nods. After a pause, he asks the question. "What did you do?"

Tommy sighs. "That's the part I'm not proud of—I didn't really do anything. I kept dating her. She was going through a lot—family stuff, her mom was sick, and I just... Didn't wanna do that to her."

Buck hums, tracing patterns over Tommy's arm while he stared into space, remembering. 

"How did it end?" Buck asks.

"Badly. She knew something was off, always so perceptive. She confronted me, and I just... I couldn't keep it in anymore. I told her. We ended it. She ended it.”

"Damn."

"Yeah. She's fine, though. After the initial hurt,  she rebounded with some hot young probie she met on a call, and now she's married with step-kids. We still send Christmas cards to each other." Tommy laughs. Buck… doesn’t.

"On a call?" Buck asks. "She was a firefighter?"

"Oh! No, not a firefighter. She worked at dispatch, actually."

Buck's entire body convulses, blood turning chilled. "Dispatch?" He asks. 

He runs back over everything Tommy said about her. He remembers a voice, frail and confused, calling him by the wrong name.

"You... You're Abby's Tommy," he realises. 

Tommy blinks in surprise. "How do you...? Oh. Oh.”

Buck takes a breath, long and shaky. Tommy's words reverberate in his head. Rebounded. 

Hot young probie.

Is that all he was to her?

"I… I didn't know I was a rebound," Buck admits, voice small. Tommy reaches for him, but he flinches away. "She... Abby was everything to me. She was the first person I ever let myself imagine a future with. Her leaving... it kind of... broke something in me, Tommy. Something that it took months—actually, years—to find again. And she never even..."

"Evan, I... I had no idea."

Another thought occurs to Buck, then. A darker, worse thought. He almost doesn't want to ask, but he knows he'll drive himself crazy with wondering if he doesn't.

"Did... You said you were with her while you were with the 118?" 

Tommy nods. "I was."

"Did you ever... Did she ever come by the station?"

Tommy squints, like he's trying to remember. "I don't know. I know she met Sal. Gerrard kept asking if she'd come cook for everyone, like a ‘good wife.’" He rolls his eyes. "I don't think she ever did, though."

"So she... She never met Chim, or-or Hen,or Bobby, then? They didn't—"

Tommy shakes his head. "I'm sure they would have told you if they'd known."

Buck swallows. He feels sick. 

Rebound.

The final straw hits a moment later. She told Tommy about him. She's told Tommy about her husband, her step-kids.

She couldn't even tell him what country she was in while they were dating. 

Buck stands abruptly.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asks.

"I need... I need to go."

Buck grabs his keys, puts his feet in his shoes, and walks out the door.

"Evan! Evan, come on! Let's talk about this?"

Buck's halfway to his jeep already, but he turns. "We will. I promise, we'll talk, but I just... I don't think I can talk about this yet. I'll... I'll call you, okay?"

And here he is now, in his jeep, driving without aim through LA. He doesn't know where to go. He doesn't want to be near Tommy right now, though he did nothing wrong, and he doesn't want to be alone.

He drives past Abby's—his—old building, and has to fight a scream which tries to tear itself out of his throat.

Who asks a rebound to move in with them? Had she actually used that word, or was Tommy just inferring?

He knows who he has to talk to. 

He hopes Tommy was wrong. He hopes Abby was genuine. Because if she wasn't, Buck's really not sure what he will do. His relationship with Abby set the bar he compared every other relationship to—how can he trust his instincts, if that was all a lie?

He fights for the memory of when Abby told him about Tommy—what had she said about him?

She didn't talk about him much, he thinks. She hadn't even mentioned the fact that he was a firefighter—Buck would have remembered that.

“He wasn't ready for all of this.” Buck hears the echo of her words, remembers interpreting it to mean her mom, her situation. He remembers worrying that he might not be ready for it, but really wanting to be.

Looking back, he absolutely hadn't been ready. 

Had that been her way of not outing Tommy? Had she been trying to cover up the real reason for their breakup? Or is it Tommy who's telling a twisted version of the story?

There's only one person who can give him an honest account of it all—one person who may not have been there for it all, but who knows the situation better than Buck.

Carla.

With Chris in Texas, though, Buck doesn't know where she's working, or what hours. He just hopes she answers his calls.

[esprei]

have recently learned there's a bit more hate around trainwreckshipping than i was aware of so i guess i just wanted to talk about it a bit and give my two cents on the ship, how i see it and i guess my perspective on things. i've kind of always wanted to talk about it, but i just haven't been brave enough until now haha (sorry, i am not super eloquent when it comes to writing things like this so my apologies) ((also throwing it under a cut because it may get long and might also include some slightly sad-ish things so i don't want to just throw that in everyone's face you know))

----

i think i'll just preface things by saying i've always totally understood why trainwreckshipping has gotten so much flack since its inception. or hate, because maybe flack just isn't strong enough of a word. but i do understand. there were mischaracterizations of emmet by portraying him as violent to volo because it was assumed that volo was directly responsible for ingo's disappearance. i was guilty of it. suuuuuper guilty. and i can understand why that put the ship in such a position for many people. toxic, unhealthy, etc. but... i think what i'm a bit confused on i guess is the fact that it's still viewed so much this way to this day. viewed as one of the worst ships because of how toxic it is. how unhealthy it is. all because it started that way in fanon only. but you know, from a canon standpoint, it has nothing. nothing at all. so really, this ship could be anything because it's based in fanon only. no canon interactions of emmet and volo exist yet. there is no official basis on how these characters would interact with each other. and yes, while there were misunderstandings of both characters early on, that certainly doesn't mean it's still that way today. that doesn't mean that people haven't studied and looked at these two characters a little closer to understand them better and to try and make them more realistic to their canon portrayals. to make more accurate depictions of these characters and how that fits in to a healthier perspective with them. i dunno. it just kinda baffles me that with the variety of trainwreckshipping content out there now, some still call it toxic and unhealthy as if we're perpetually stuck in that time period of when it was. like it's not allowed to be anything but that ever just because it started that way. and what makes me the saddest about it all is now seeing so many friends and people in the community of the ship start to get disheartened and discouraged from enjoying something they really actually enjoy because there's still such a bad stigma to the ship. personally for a long time i've just ignored that stigma because i try not to let that stuff drag me down. but i will admit that yes, it has made me more reluctant to post any art i do of it. i've definitely had my periods where i've questioned uploading my emmet/volo art, usually as wholesome as it is, because it does have such a dark cloud around it fandom wise. it's why i made my side blog, in fact. because i just didn't feel very comfortable uploading mostly emmet/volo art here to my main because so many people dislike it or outright hate it.

and in regards to the ship itself, i think i've always thought of it in a slightly different way than most. not so much enemies to lovers but rather through the lens of how volo might could change, be redeemed, see the how his actions in the past inadvertently affected others (and by that I mean his involvement in opening the rift... like yes, that could be what caused ingo to be sent to hisui, but we don't know that for sure... and even if that was the case, volo didn't do it specifically to target ingo. volo was only ever interested in trying to get to arceus and build a better world in his vision).

or how volo could look at emmet after getting to know him and potentially see the beauty and value of the current world through him. you know, seeing someone like emmet and admiring that he can still find a reason to smile and be kind despite all of the pain and suffering he must have gone through since ingo's disappearance. volo starting to see a different perspective than he did before (aka wanting to build a new world because the current one was too full of pain and suffering) because of emmet. i dunno. that's just me personally. because since actually looking more at volo's character and his dialogue in game i've been real interested in redemption paths for him. exploring those possibilities. i just enjoy exploring said possibilities mostly through the dynamic i have in my head for him and emmet because it's fun. it interests me. i see cool potential in it. i enjoy it a lot. and while i don't think i ever portray volo super accurately, or even emmet for that matter, i still think i've come a long way since first finishing pla and ever looking at emmet/volo interactions. but regardless of all of that, that's the beauty of a ship of this nature. a ship that has absolutely no basis in canon. because it really can be anything you want it to be. it can be enemies to lovers, it can be more wholesome, it can be whatever. it's not locked into a specific dynamic because the characters have never officially met each other, let alone had a conversation. and even if that were the case... AUs are still a thing. :D

anyway that's pretty much all i had. just wanted to talk about it a bit because i've seen a recent uptick in people mentioning all of the hate and dislike for the ship etc and i dunno. i enjoy the ship a lot. it's just sad to see that there's still so much hate around it even though a lot of the content now is not like how it originally started. not from what i've seen, at least.

and while i don't expect anyone who hates it to ever warm up to it, i just wish it could be understood that the more toxic, unhealthy dynamic is not the basis of anymore. there are healthier portrayals of it now.

[melloneah]

ill answer ur asks soon my lovelies thank u sm for sending them in<3

another rant in tags im so sorry tw death again

[faaun]

WARNING: The penalty for trespassing on the railway is £1000.

[seventh-district]

uh oh! it’s Seven’s Dean Winchester Kinnie Hours again!

[pricegouge]

Haul

Part One MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: alcohol/drugs mentioned, though reader doesn't partake. up to you if that's for sobriety purposes or not, though most of this chapter takes place in a bar. public nudity. brief, non descriptive mention of animal harm. Let me know if I missed anything!

Like most terrible things in your life, it starts off with a dare. You're on the I-40 somewhere around Seligmen when Ash's fingers drum on the steering wheel of her busted old beater and you know she's got an evil little scheme brewing by the erratic, staccato beat. She turns to you and grins, hair whipping about her in the wind tunnel created by the open windows. "I dare you," she drawls in the same conversational tone she'd used a few states back to initiate a game of I Spy, back when there were colors other than tan and brown, and the occasional smudge of green shrubbery, to spy. "To flash this trucker when we pass him."

Like most terrible things in your life, it starts off with a dare.

You're on the I-40 somewhere around Seligmen when Ash's fingers drum on the steering wheel of her busted old beater and you know she's got an evil little scheme brewing by the erratic, staccato beat. She turns to you and grins, hair whipping about her in the wind tunnel created by the open windows. "I dare you," she drawls in the same conversational tone she'd used a few states back to initiate a game of I Spy, back when there were colors other than tan and brown, and the occasional smudge of green shrubbery, to spy. "To flash this trucker when we pass him."

Bored off your ass after days in the car with not much to do other than reconnect with your old friend and listen to the same band over and over (Ash was… over excited to be on the way to see them), you briefly consider it before taking in the tacky mud flaps - sexy lady silhouette that's been a staple of trashy truckers since before you were born, here X-rayed so you could see her sexy little skeleton as well. 

"No way," you scoff.

"Oh, c'mon," she nods at the same decals you'd already noticed. "Bet he'd enjoy the show."

"Yeah, bet he'd enjoy turning me into a skeleton, too."

"Well, he'd have to catch you first, and I'm an excellent, speedy little driver."

She was, that being the only reason you'd agreed to her hairbrained idea to drive half across the US. When she'd asked if you'd wanted to join her in seeing your favorite band from high school play their farewell tour out in California, you'd envisioned long nights, heart to hearts, deep conversation under starry desert skies, and a great pay off at the end in the form of one last, cathartic hurrah before a quiet, tired drive home. But you hadn't calculated on Ash still being in her party girl phase.

Perhaps you should have known. One of the main reasons you'd fallen off with her post-graduation was because the crowd she'd been migrating towards was only escalating. You were by no means a square, but between landing a nine-to-five and having bills to pay, your rough edges had slowly been whittling away over the years while, it seemed, Ash had remained the exact same Ash she'd always been. You didn't begrudge her that, but neither did you relish pit stops at dive bars every night, nor juvenile dares in broad daylight. Mind, when you were supposed to be sleeping because you'd driven all night after a stop in west Texas had left Ash incapacitated no less. 

Still, the boredom of not having much to talk about with your only companion, and the monotony of the same albums you've been listening to since middle school being played over and over was wearing on you, and despite your exhaustion, a sense of restlessness had crept in somewhere around Flagstaff and wasn't leaving you be. 

"Fine, but you're buying me a drink tonight."

"Are you drinking!?" she hoots, somewhere between excited you're no longer being 'a stick in the mud,' and apprehensive that she wouldn't have a driver lined up at closing time.

"No, but when I inevitably offer to buy someone else one, you're covering it."

Ash scoffs loudly enough to be heard over both the music and the wind, an impressive feat. "Deal, but once he gets a load of them titties, I'm fairly sure Mr. Kenworth here is gonna be dominating your time tonight."

"That's why you're driving quick enough he can't catch us, remember?" you laugh, already reaching up under your shirt to remove your bra.

The car accelerates, the long black trailer stretching past your passenger window as Ash pulls up alongside it. She whoops happily when you unbuckle your belt, blaring the music and hollering along to get your nerves up. There's a pit in your belly, the kind that forms right at the top of a rollercoaster. Your nerves alight, as if in preparation for a fight, skin drawing tight and pebbling into goosebumps. You spare a thought for how hard your nipples are gonna be and laugh perhaps a bit maniacally. Ash turns your nerves to excitement with a rousing set of slaps to your thick thighs. You take a deep breath, release it with a high, distressed whine. Still, you get a leg under you and contort yourself half out the port, Ash's excited shrieking following you out, though soon ripped away by the rushing of the wind around you. Your shirt whips up. Instinctively, you try to shove it down and then nearly roll your eyes at yourself when you realize what you're about to do. The white nose of the truck looms closer, side view mirror reflecting nothing back at you but a darkened cab. It strikes you as odd, what with the sun beating down on you both, hot and undisturbed by cloud nor foliage. It's blazing on your skin despite the wind, scent of the baked tarmac below heavy in your sinuses. Sand pecks against your flesh, abrasive. You hope a big beetle doesn't come smashing into your teeth before all this is done.

You don't have much time to think about it. Ash swats you on your ass and you pull your shirt up, screaming all the while as the tension in your body boils over like a tea kettle. Eyes squeezed shut, you don't notice at first how the truck carries on straight as an arrow. Unaffected. You expect an air horn or something, get none. When you peek, the tint of the truck's window glares apathetically back at you, a dark shroud through which you have no ability to gauge the driver's reaction.

It's Ash who honks first, the tired sounding beeps jolting you back to reality. You feel let down, disappointed. Self-conscious, stupidly. You shrink back on yourself a bit, shirt hiding the bottom half of your face as you slump back toward your seat. Your chest is still exposed, something you only register when - finally - the airhorn knocks you fully on your ass, hand scrambling to cover yourself in front of your friend. 

Completely ignorant of your emotional turmoil, Ash slaps the steering wheel animatedly, cackling and whooping like she's driving a getaway car after a successful heist. The airhorn sounds again and you glance up at the blank window, embarrassment and shame creeping up your throat. You've no clue why it's worse that you can't see the driver; even less of an idea as to why you were kind of hoping for their approval. Especially considering you have it, you think, another short blast of the horn attesting to the driver's pleasure. You force a grin, give a stupid little wave that you instantly regret. You roll up the window despite Ash's old beater having no AC, desperate for some kind of space between you and the truck. 

Brain skipping, trying to keep busy so you don't have to assess the weird pit of disappointment you'd felt, you reach into the footwell in search of your bra, but stop short when you see it dangling from a strap off Ash's finger. "Thanks," you mumble, and then glare daggers at her when she yanks it away quicker than you can grab. She's got that face on again, the mischief making one.

"Don't you dare," you hiss, but she just cackles and sends it flying out the open sunroof. "Ash!" you cry, twisting in your seat so see the lacy little number get caught up in the slipstream of the semi behind you, skirting up over the hood and plastering itself to the window where, quick as a flash, a thick, tattooed arm reaches out the driver's side window to slap the wiper down over it, snaring it against the glass.

The stone in your stomach hardens, sinks lower. Where before you'd felt oddly bereft without the driver's approval, this feels far too intimate, and you urge Ash quicker, turning back forward to watch the miles of open road pass, checking at each mile marker to see how the space between your car and his has grown. His grill glints chrome under the blaring sun, visible for miles. Combined with the tinted windshield, they turn the white cab into a skull, teeth bared and all.

***

The bar Ash chooses sits back from the road down a small slope, as if nestled by the dusty landscape - a hidden chest of glittering incandescent and neon bulbs, oil slick from the assembled nearby trucks painting what remains of the crumbling tarmac aurora. They line the lot on either side, backed up until their trailers overhang the paved lot itself, carving footprints into the hard earth. Between the two lines, the valley of the lot funnels you toward the boisterous building, music and laughter spilling out its seams. 

You'd rolled up the windows when the sun set so you're not quite prepared for the chill that greets you as you step out of the car. Still braless, you check to be sure the dark material of your shirt covers your nipples, but hug your flannel closer to yourself anyway, making a slow turn as you assess the assembled cars. You've been to enough dive bars to know the real warning signs; the get-the-fuck-out-of-dodge-before-you-decide-to-tryand-fight-a-blooded-Nazi kind of signs. Thankfully you don't see much here beyond the standard watch-your-drink-and-don't-let-your-bare-ass-touch-the-toilet-seat kind of vibes so you resign yourself to a night of babysitting, coming around the nose of the car as you bring a cigarette to your lips. 

Ash is giddy with excitement, dragging you along with her hands tucked through your elbow as she whispers excitedly about all the possibilities a dive bar off a forgotten county road in nowhere Arizona might offer. She'd said just a few drinks when she'd suggested going out again tonight, but you already know how that's going to shake out.

"Yeah? You gonna do some blow off the shuffleboard table by the end of the night?" You joke.

"And get sand in my nose? Please," Ash scoffs. "I'll do it off the sink like a normal person." 

You grin, holding the door open for her. "Go ahead and find us a spot, I'm gonna do my dirty deed," you wag the cigarette at her illustratively. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't take too long or else all the lonely rednecks'll think I'm looking for company." 

You don't remind her she doesn't need to be here if she doesn't want to be. "If you ask pretty they'll take you to the bathroom," you wink instead, flicking your nose. Ash just laughs as she steps through the door. You let it drop behind her, fishing your lighter from your pocket as you step toward the edge of the porch. There's a loud group on your left, smoking more than just tobacco by the smell of it. You don't mind, but neither do you want to partake, so you stay a good distance away, listening in as the loudest of the group tells an animated story about the time he hit a deer and it ran off with his headlight cover. He's not a great story teller, but the assembled group laughs loud enough to drown him out half the time so maybe your perception is skewed.

Beyond them, inside, you can hear the clatter of billiards, and the general din of loosened lips, but outside, it is a cool and still night. You've never been to this part of the country, and you can't help but reflect on how nice it is in these quiet moments without Ash's chatter, or her constant performative nature. It's not that you dislike her, but days of such close proximity after years of barely any contact had certainly been a decision, and you're really started to regret it. Still, it's good to travel, and it's been so long since you've bothered with a bar that you nearly forget how to react when a man sidles up beside you and asks for a light. 

Stocky, handsome, you stammer over some words and extend your lighter, cursing when you realize you should have held the open flame out for him to light his cigarette over. He gives you a grin like he knows what you're thinking, and then exhales his smoke right into your face, destroying any attraction you'd felt for him before he'd even said a word.

You spare him a tight grin and hold your hand out for your lighter back. He holds it out, but gives it a playful little tug when you try to take it from him. "Alright," you gripe at the same moment he relinquishes his grasp, sending your hand dropping aggressively down with the slight force you'd been using. You nod while he just keeps grinning at you and snub out what remains of your cigarette. "Have a good one," you mumble, sliding past him and into the bar.

Ash perches at a small two-top, long neck dangling from her fingers prettily. You slide in across from her and she offers you the second bottle she'd snagged, though accepts easily enough when you shake your head. She's angled toward the room, that demure, but still inviting pose she'd perfected long ago on full display. As predicted, a string of men approach her, though she shoots them all down, giving you commentary on what she's thought of them all when she sends them packing. 

"Too scrawny."

"Smelled like Funyuns."

"I've seen more hair in my shower drain."

You giggle, content to watch her pick on sleazy men all night. Unfortunately her tune changes when return from the restroom a while later to find her flirting with a tall, broad man in a gaiter. She notices you as you draw close and beams at you, waving you closer in a way that suggests 'check this one out'. 

"Who's your friend?" you ask hesitantly, eyeing the big guy all over. He's dressed nice enough for a place like this, work boots and well-fitting jeans that hug his hammies sinfully. He's got on a canvas jacket over a tight thermal, some ink on his left hand you can't quite catch the shape of. The gaiter rubs you wrong, despite its innocuous dark material. Just this side of too sketchy in a place already bordering on it, you imagine there's no good reason a man would hide the bottom half of his face when he's presumably there to imbibe alcohol with his mouth all night. 

"Simon," the man rumbles, voice dark and accented. He extends his right hand to you and you take it, fingers engulfed by his broad, rough palm. In his left he holds a brown bottle, label obscured by his wide grip.

"Simon, this is my friend, Betty," Ash introduces you before you even have a chance. You shoot her a look, obvious enough that even the newcomer catches it.

"Betty?" he asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

"Not my name," you assert, but Ash speaks over you.

"Because she's so delightfully pretty, but so devastatingly boring," she pouts at you. To Simon she says, "Go on, ask her if she wants a drink."

"Can I get you a -?"

"No."

"See? Boring."

You roll your eyes, but don't offer any sort of retaliation besides. You're used to this, and generally unbothered by it. That doesn't mean it's not a pleasant surprise when Simon comes to your defense. "Nothing wrong with being responsible." His eyes are heavy on you, trailing in a way you're not necessarily comfortable with. That doesn't stop you from thanking him.

"Responsible," Ash scoffs. "One beer is still totally legal to drive."

"Quit complaining. Just means you get to have all the fun," you remind her.

"Mm, true," Ash sings. She tilts her bottle against Simon's, but you can't help noticing he gets distracted before the bottle makes it to his lips.

"You guys from around here?"

"Is anyone from here?" you quip, eyeing the assembled lot. They match their trucks outside: heavy, built for long hauls and quick stops at watering holes. 

"Suppose not," Simon admits, his own accent played up for effect. "Where you lot headed, then?"

"L.A.," Ash gushes.

When she doesn't elaborate, you tack on, "Ash's got a modeling gig."

"Really?" Ash smacks Simon playfully on the arm over his offended tone. 

"No," she laughs, "seeing a show. You ever been to L.A.?"

"Been everywhere," Simon shrugs, cryptic.

"You a trucker too, I take it?"

"Don't I look like one?" His accent thickens with every word until even your unlearned ear believes you could pinpoint his exact birthplace - distinctly un-American.

"You ever consider a mullet?" Ash giggles.

Simon looks about to snark something back when the lighter-less man from outside stumbles into his space.

"Hi," he tells the group in general, eyes unfocused before they slide to you. "Wanted to apologize. Think we got off on the wrong foot out there."

You can practically feel Ash brimming with excitement, the fact that both of you are now talking to men not going unnoticed by either of you. Not wanting to find yourself in some cheap motel Fargo sex with her, you make your lack of attraction obvious immediately, voice stern. "All good, man."

"Right," he balks. "Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Uh… you driving tonight or something?"

"Just not thirsty."

Across from you, Ash mouths the word 'Betty' at a stone faced Simon.

"Then why are you in a bar?" Lighter-less demands, belligerent. 

"Good question," you turn on Ash, but before she can answer, Simon speaks up.

"Piss off, mate."

"Fuck you," the guy snaps, turning to face the other man. You realize he must not have gotten a good look at him before approaching the group because you see his eyes go wide when he takes in Simon's sheer size.

"Nah, fuck you actually. Piss off."

He doesn't need telling a third time. Lighter-less gives you and Ash a nod and scurries off while Ash rounds on you. 

"And what was wrong with him?"

"Fuckin' rude."

"Are we ever gonna get you laid?"

You've only been on the road with her for two days and have not been actively looking, but you don't bother telling her that. "Only when you finally give in, baby," you croon instead and Ash snorts, already moving on.

"Simon, you any good at darts?"

"No."

"Great! Go bully us into a board using that broad frame of yours and let me win, would ya?"

Something dark passes over Simon's eyes, so quickly you think you might have imagined it when he immediately changes gears, giving Ash a brief nod before skulking away.

"Isn't he fuckin' cute?" Ash hisses at you after he's gone.

"Wouldn't know," you deadpan, covering the bottom half of your face with your hand.

She swats at you. "Oh, come off it. I'm gonna climb him like a tree by the end of the night." You curse to yourself when she sways her hips after him because the worst part is, you don't doubt her.

Simon's at least considerate enough to scrounge up a table by the boards for you, so you have front row seats to the flirt fest the other two partake in. True to his word, Simon lets Ash win three games in a row, each time being rewarded with a slightly more intoxicated girl hanging from his neck. Ash gets touchier the more she drinks, and Simon doesn't seem to mind. Though you find it odd how he rarely reciprocates, content just to let her feel up his considerable pecs and grin down at her like she's being silly. You briefly wonder if he's even into her, until you catch him giving her a congratulatory smack on the ass a little too enthusiastically after her fourth win. He says he's going out for a smoke after that and you leap at the opportunity, grabbing your jacket from the booth and following him out.

"Guess I'll keep our booth occupied," Ash pouts.

"Better, had to scare off a racoon for that thing," you hear Simon rumbling as you lead the way back out onto the porch.

The night's only gotten colder since you've been inside and you're reminded yet again that you're not wearing a bra when you feel the cotton of your shirt chafe against your tight skin. You duck your head in embarrassment as you pull your flannel tighter around yourself, too distracted to notice Simon offering you a cigarette from his pack as you try to remember if you'd been egregiously nipple flaunting back inside. 

"You okay?" Simon grunts as he lights his own smoke and you jolt back to reality, find him with his mask lowered.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Just chillier than I expected." 

When he pockets his lighter, Simon keeps his cigarette tucked between his lips. Hands freed, he pulls his jacket off and offers it to you before you can get a protest out. His voice is gravelly when he insists you take it and you do, reveling in the body heat still trapped within. It smells vaguely musty, almost like a garage, but you figure that tracks and it's not unpleasant. 

You eye him over as you light your cigarette, not bothering to be all that subtle when you find him watching you just as closely. He's handsome, though you wonder if he keeps his face covered because of the cleft lip or the thick scar that crosses the bridge of his nose, a missing notch giving the slope of it a double ridge. Beneath his coat, he's just as muscled as you'd imagined, heavy texture of his thermal falling into the valley of his pecs nicely. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing more of the ink you'd spotted on his hand - a detailed skull crowned in heavy black swirls which follow the musculature of his forearm nicely. 

"None too pretty, eh?"

You let your eyes slide back up to his face, willfully overlook the ruin of his nose. "Wouldn't say that."

He narrows his eyes at you, as if searching for a lie. You know he won't find one, though, and weather it unflinchingly. Eventually he grunts in acceptance, or maybe approval. He doesn't say much after that, though you're content to enjoy the relative silence. The rowdy group from earlier have moved along, and the only other company you have out here is a couple quietly bickering down in the parking lot. Combined with the volume of the bar, it's level of noise you would have found annoying even just two days ago, but after so many hours stuck in the car with Ash's constant chatter, you revel in the lack of conversation, enjoy the minute twinge you get when you stretch your knees damn near hyperextension.

"Your friend's a bit more talkative than you," Simon eventually observes, voice neutral as to whether or not he likes that about you.

"My friend is quite social," you hedge, and laugh when Simon looks like he has something to say about that.

"Your friend has an agenda."

"That obvious?"

"Less obvious: is it a good idea?"

"Well why would you ask me that, when I have a vested interest in keeping the two of you apart tonight so I don't have to stand around awkwardly while the cab is a'rocking, you know what I mean?"

Simon smiles, first time all night. It does nothing to reduce his severity. "Well, you're welcome to join instead."

You can't help but scoff at him, though your laugh turns more nervous when he gives no indication of joking. "About the only thing worse than listening to Ash scream like a banshee from outside the truck, would be listening to her scream like a banshee from inside the truck. Thanks though."

He returns your grin, but it seems a bit tight. You squint at him, trying to get a feel for how insulted he actually is, but he's unflinching, unbothered. Simon's silence unnerves you, and you work to fill the void despite your earlier easiness within it. "Which, uh… Which one's yours?" You nod at the line of trucks on your left and his dark eyes follow the movement. 

Shaking his head, Simon steps into your space and angles you toward the other side of the lot. Leaning across your back, his big hand floats into your peripheral where he points at a bland, gleaming shape parked within the shadow of the building. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the low lot light in the corner, more a single porch light than anything. For a moment, it looks like any other of the million big white cabs you've seen crawling all over god's green earth, but then Simon clicks his fob behind you, and the lights flash, the dome light within turning on just long enough for you to catch a lacey little number hanging from his rear-view through the dark tinted glass, and then you notice the distinctly teeth-shaped grill you'd memorized in your passenger mirror earlier today. Your blood runs cold despite the heat of Simon behind you, you're tense, ready to flee even without your friend in tow. Your muscles don't listen, however, locked in place like a spring trap with no quarry. And then the crack of a breakshot from within the bar racks your nerves, has you spinning around to find Simon staring back down at you intensely, eyes dark enough to rival his truck's.

"You want that back? Kinda cold out here." His eyes dart down to your chest, as if he can see through the layers you've covered yourself with.

Part of you wants to yell at him, demand answers. A younger, squirrelier version of you probably would've slapped him. Instead, you slip past him wordlessly and make a beeline for your friend. "Ash," you hiss when you spot her, still at the booth where you left her. "Ash, we have to go -."

"Is that Simon's jacket?" She looks offended. You would roll your eyes at her if you had time to argue.

"Yes. Not important. Look," you take the jacket in question off, spare a brief thought for the base instinct telling you to rifle through his pockets. "Simon is the trucker I flashed. I think he followed us here."

"Oh, Jesus, Betty. That guy's probably already forgotten about you. You know how many people flash truckers every day?"

"In what world -? Is this National Lampoon's?" You huff, calm yourself. "Ash, I saw his truck, it's him, and I wanna go."

"You saw a white truck with a black cab, you mean? Spooky," she deadpans.

"He had my fucking bra hanging from his rearview -."

"You went in his cab?"

"No, fucking -."

"Did she go in your cab?"

You still, drawing yourself back to your full height from where you'd wound up leaning over your friend. Behind you, Simon steps close enough you can feel his heat again, smell that stale garage scent. "No," he shrugs and Ash eyes you both suspiciously.

"Here." You shove Simon's coat back into his chest, disappointed when you don't manage to move him an inch. Turning back to your friend, you dangle Ash's keys in her face. "I'm leaving. I encourage you to join."

"I can't even finish my beer?"

You don't bother to answer, storming back toward the door with enough confidence to have her scrambling after you.

"Jesus, what is your problem?" She hisses once the bar door slams shut after her. 

You point at Simon's truck, distinct chrome grill giving Ash pause for all of two seconds. "Could be anyone's."

"He asked me if I wanted my bra back, Ash."

Behind her, the bar door opens again. Simon's wide frame fills it for a moment, before stepping out onto the porch, casual as can be. He lights up another cigarette, eyes heavy on you all the while. He doesn't seem to notice when Ash waves at him. This time when you walk away, the crunching of gravel under foot is the only indication you get that your friend is following. She's silent for once as she climbs into the passenger's seat. You don't bother adjusting anything, tearing out of the driveway with a spray of dirt and debris that would probably ruin some paint jobs. Behind you, a truck follows you out of the lot, but the twenty foot shipping container it has loaded reassures you that it isn't Simon on your tail.

Ash remains silent for a long while, though you can tell she hasn't fallen asleep yet by the quality of her breathing. When she does speak, her voice is thin and reedy. "I didn't think he'd follow us."

"I know." For your part, you wish you could muster much beyond a general grumble of annoyance. She was just being silly when she made her little dare; it's not her fault the guy had been a creep. Thankfully, it seems he'd been content to just scare you a bit, the rearview faithfully returning only one set of headlights in your wake every time you check. 

"Go to bed, Ash. If he keeps following I'll wake you."

To your immense relief, she listens, her soft breaths relaxing the tension in your shoulders. After another glance in the side view to reassure yourself you're still safe, you take some soothing breaths of your own and run through what remains of your trip's itinerary, taking comfort in how little actually remained. Nearly half way over, and after tonight you don't think it'll be too hard to talk Ash out of any more unplanned stops at local dives just to check out the native wildlife. You're pretty sure you've both seen enough, the dejected way she'd looked after Simon's ulterior motive had been revealed playing again in your mind. Poor Ash, honestly, but you suppose it works out in your favor if it means getting home sooner and with fewer scrapes.

Feeling better, you turn the radio on, low enough it won't disturb your passenger. It takes some scanning through static to find anything, and when you do you're a bit annoyed that it's country gold of all things, but you can't deny how well it fits the landscape through which you drive, the low horizon backlit by the sunset's distant memory. It's nice, for a time. Nice enough you aren't really paying attention when DJ starts spouting local headlines, the news of a young woman's body being found recently only about an hour's ride north of here going in one ear and right out the other.

next>>

[stardustdiiving]

So my personal stance on Wanderer’s relationship with the Aranara is that when he’s first settling into Sumeru he has a habit of going off into the rainforest to brood, and this results in Nahida asking the Aranara to keep an eye on him and/or help her find him (which is how, for instance, she’s able to find him so easily in his 2023 birthday letter). For a while Wanderer genuinely has no idea how Nahida keeps tracking him down until he one day catches one of the Aranara peeking at him from the bushes and remembers Nahida has an entire army of little guys watching over the forest he’s trying to dramatically storm off in, which of course ruins the effect + his chances of being able to be cynical about the world in a canopy somewhere in undisturbed peace.

Whats additionally terrible about this is recently he told Nahida to stop making the Aranara supervise him, and she happily informed him she actually hasn’t asked them to do that in a while, so if it looks like the Aranara are still following him around, it’s probably because they’re “curious about” and have “taken a liking to” him. Nahida unfortunately also does not take Wanderer seriously when he insists that “such surveillance is cruel and unusual punishment for a prisoner” and that the “personal freedoms he is entitled to under Sumeru law are being violated”. She instead laughs in the face of his suffering (giggles at him) and suggests he should try to introduce himself to the Aranara because she thinks that he would quote “get along” with them.

Wanderer, frankly, finds this absurd and wholly unnecessary. He doesn’t even know why they’ve “taken a liking to him” or have burdened them with their silly, gourd shaped whimsical presences when apparently it’s predominately Only children and any adults who’ve “maintained their sense of childlike wonder” or whatever that can see them. Wanderer is possibly the furtherest thing from either category and concludes they probably “trust” him because he’s “friends” with their Archon or something. Its utterly baffling, but he can’t really do much about it, because what’s he supposed to do? Go out of his way to chase off a bunch of silly harmless little guys every time he goes wandering?? Definitely not. He has far more important things to worry about

I think one day, though, Wanderer ends up stumbling across an Aranara getting chased around by monsters and really has no choice but to intervene because a) the thing was so helpless it was kind of tragic and b) Nahida would probably be upset with him if he let one of her Aranara get terrorized by monsters. This is when everything truly starts going downhill, because the Aranara he saved was apparently VERY big on running its mouth, so now ALL of them are even More obsessed with him and encroach on him even More whenever he’s in the forest.

To make matters worse he also makes the mistake of offering one (1) Aranara a single small pastry (ONE time. As an experiment) and now they keep offering him bizarrely cooked food to return the favor and he really has no choice but to pack snacks for them everytime he enters their domain. Its completely out of control and he doesn’t know why Nahida finds such dire circumstances so amusing. They keep sitting on his hat and roping them into playing hide and seek with him. Unbelievable . (He finds them very cute and amusing to talk to due to the sheer intensity of their good natured whimsy. Its kind of cathartic) (he would never admit this)

[theminecraftbee]

I HAVEN’T HAD TIME TO FINISH MY BOOK.

Sitting up, dizzy, the player says: “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

The faceless being puts a bookmark in-between the pages.

I AM TRYING TO READ CAT’S CRADLE. DO NOT SPOIL THE ENDING.

“I don’t care,” the player says.

I HAD HOPED TO FINISH IT. ALAS, EVEN FOR ONE SUCH AS I—

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about time. Just—shut up. I thought it could be different this time.”

AND I’D HOPED TO FINISH MY BOOK.

“You’re a dick. You’re Death and you’re a dick and you’re going to take my face again.”

YOU KEEP OFFERING IT.

“Agh, I just—I just—it isn’t fair!” screams the player. “It isn’t fair! I knew I was almost out of time, but still, it isn’t, I hadn’t wanted…”

FAIRNESS HAS LITTLE TO DO WITH IT.

The player buries his head in his hands and sobs.

-

“Oh, nice book you’ve got there.”

THANK YOU, Death says. IT IS A BOOK ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD.

“Oh, that sounds bleak, man.”

I AM A BLEAK CREATURE.

“You could say that.”

A long silence falls between Death and the player.

NO REGRETS TO SHOUT AT ME, THEN?

“Why would I?” the player asks. “Nah. I’m good.”

WELL THEN. WE SHOULD GO.

“Can I—I want to make sure they’re okay.”

THEY ARE NOT.

“Ouch. Come on, man, way to make a guy feel like shit.”

I DO NOT LIE, Death says. THEY ARE NOT OKAY.

“Alright,” the player says. “Alright. Fine. But I—I did what I could.”

YES, Death says. THAT IS INDEED THE NATURE OF LIFE.

-

“Give me more time!” screams the player. He lunges at death with bloody claws. “I wanted—there has to be more time!”

I CANNOT IMAGINE THIS IS VERY EFFECTIVE.

“Oh, screw you,” the player says, growling and trying to bite at Death with his teeth.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO BORROW MY BOOK INSTEAD?

“No! I want to live! I want more time! I was going to—I want more time!”

OH, VERY WELL. IT IS A GOOD BOOK. IT DOES NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING, I THINK, BUT THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT BAD.

“I don’t care about your blumin’ book now let me go back!”

Death sighs, a heavy sound, like the wind blowing over a graveyard or the falling of grains of sand.

THE PROBLEM WITH FIGHTING TIME IS THAT IT ALWAYS WINS.

The player shouts incoherently and tries once more to bite Death. It does not do much of anything.

NO MATTER HOW YOU FIGHT IT, IT ALWAYS IS, AND ONE DAY YOU ARE NOT.

“No!”

YES, Death says. BUT I SUPPOSE THE FIGHTING ITSELF CAN BE CATHARTIC. I HAVE NO REASON TO STOP YOU.

“God, it’s like you don’t even care!”

Another long silence.

NO, Death says. NO, THAT’S ONE THING I CAN NEVER BE ACCUSED OF.

The figure with a borrowed face waits for the player’s energy to wear out before sweeping away again. Perhaps it will have time to finish its book before it must work again, but it doubts it. That is how time works, after all—there’s never enough.

[coochellati]

Comfort From Your Capo

Pairing: Bruno Bucciarati x gender-neutral reader

Summary: Bruno pauses a very important meeting to comfort you in your time of need.

Word Count: 963

Genre: Fluff

I’ve had a pretty rough week; I wrote this short one-shot to provide a bit of comfort. Honestly, it was pretty cathartic. If you’re in a similar position, I hope reading this can help you a little too 🩷

{READ ON AO3}

Tap tap tap.

You abruptly lifted your face from your damp pillow, startled by the sudden presence of someone at your bedroom door.

A spark of annoyance rushed through your body, which lay sprawled across your bed. Great—someone else had heard your desperate sobs and had come to check on you. Mista had dropped by not even ten minutes ago. Were your walls really that thin? Sharing a house with Team Bucciarati already left you with limited privacy, but seriously? It seemed that not even your room was safe from nosy eavesdroppers.

“Is everything alright?” A muffled voice asked from behind your bedroom door. Wait, was that Bruno? Wasn’t he supposed to be in the middle of an important meeting with Giorno? You felt conflicted—on one hand, you were relieved that Bruno was the one who had come to check on you. On the other hand, you felt even more tense; you knew how crucial this meeting was. Bruno had been emphasizing the importance of it for the past week; he had made it very clear that he was not to be bothered.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Giorno?” you choked out, hot tears streaming down your flushed face.

“I am,” he replied, “but one of the Sex Pistols requested that I come and check on you.”

“Well, things are fine,” you called out as you buried your face back into your pillow. Bruno didn’t need to hear your sobs.

“Your words don’t sound very reassuring,” Bruno replied, his voice laced with concern. “If you need space, I’ll leave you be.”

“No, it’s not—that’s not it,” you whimpered between gasps for air. “I don’t want to take you away from your work. You said that this meeting was super important, and I”—you gasped—“I don’t want to interrupt you.”

“Interrupting me—is that what you’re worried about?” Bruno asked. “I promise you aren’t disturbing me. Right now, your distress is a much more pressing concern.” His words melted your heart; the care in his voice made you cry even harder.

“Okay, you can come in,” you sniffled, shifting your body so that you were now sitting up. You grabbed a tissue on your nightstand to wipe away the snot pouring out of your nose—you didn’t want Bruno to see you in such a gross state. All of a sudden, you heard your doorknob jiggling.

“It’s locked,” he called out.

“Oh—sorry, I’ll get it.”

“No need,” he replied. You heard the low growl of a zipper as Bruno began crawling through the center of your door. The pull tabs on his suit jingled as he stepped into your bedroom and zipped your door shut. You stared at the floor, vision blurry with tears. You felt the bed shift as Bruno took a seat next to you.

A warm finger traced your jawline towards your chin as he turned your head towards him. Your lip quivered as you looked into his deep, sapphire eyes. The soft, tender expression he wore caused you to break down all over again. Bruno pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and softly dabbed the warm tears cascading down your face.

“Don’t feel any pressure to talk about what’s upsetting you. However, if you need someone to listen, I’m here for you,” he gently stated. “Everything is going to be okay.” You nodded your head as he leaned down and delicately kissed your forehead. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, engulfing you in his warmth. You buried your face into the space where his suit opened up for his chest, your skin pressed against his. The soothing scent of his expensive cologne flooded your nose. You focused on Bruno’s rhythmic breathing and found comfort as you rose and fell with his chest.

“Were you upset when you had to leave your meeting?” You asked, voice shaking.

“No, not at all,” Bruno reassured. “I’ll admit that I was a little irritated when Number 5 first appeared, but I calmed down as soon as it informed me of your distress. Mista must have been pretty concerned about you. I don’t think Number 5 was acting on Mista’s orders—I imagine it was reflecting his subconscious. I’m surprised he didn’t check on you himself.”

“He did; I told him to go away,” you sniffled and lightly chuckled.

”Ah, so that’s why Number 5 came and got me,” Bruno remarked, softly smiling. “I’m glad it did.“ His words sent a shiver of bliss running through your body.

“By the way, don’t worry about getting my suit wet; it’ll dry. Besides, even if you did leave a stain, I’m not worried—I’ve got the best dry cleaners in Italy,” he softly laughed.

“So that’s how you keep your suit so white,” you muttered, half-smiling.

”Mm-hm,” Bruno hummed. You noticed that your tears had finally stopped. A melancholic tranquility had replaced your sorrow.

“You seem like you’ve calmed down; are you feeling any better?” Bruno questioned. You looked up at him and nodded your head in response.

“Good,” He murmured as he began stroking your back. “I’ll stay with you a little while longer. As much as I don’t want to, I do have to get back to my meeting sometime soon. Don’t worry, I’ll come back once it’s over.”

“Thank you, Bruno,” you tiredly mumbled. A fuzzy warmth flooded your body as he pulled you even closer.

“I’ll always be here for you, my love,” Bruno consoled. You closed your eyes; a wave of exhaustion flooded your body as you allowed all of your muscles to relax. Your world no longer felt as if it was falling apart; it was as if Bruno had used his stand ability to reattach its pieces back together.

[brotherwtf]

gimme a fantasy clegan au where John is a telepathic interrogator and Gale is an outlaw that Johns supposed to break

hey squad actually can't stop thinking about this gif (it may or may not have inspired the entire au)

Gale had been captured by hunters and brought in for interrogation (or torture depending on how you look at it) and John was assigned to the case

John is a telepath, has been since he was young, and only gets assigned the especially difficult cases, Gale being one of them

Usually, he uses his telepathy to get into the minds of the prisoners, their thoughts ALWAYS give them away, no matter what they say with their mouths

He tries not to let the fact that Gale is stunning, even while he's strung and bloody, distract him from doing his actual job

John knows that elves like Gale are supposed to be desired, beautiful, and Gale seems to know it as well

He smirks and refuses to talk, and John is shocked by how blank Gale's mind is, he can't seem to read any of his thoughts

The only thoughts that Gale lets John see are lewd flashes of them together, John ravaging Gale on the floor of his cell, and John has to leave the cell with a raging hard on

John knows that Gales actions are to protect himself and not actual desires he feels, but John can't help but get lost in the ocean of Gales eyes

He also sees a deep, carnal fear in them, the look of an animal that's been trapped, and he decides he's going to help Gale get out of here

John makes it seem like it's Gale's idea, getting in his head and planting the idea in there. If he can make it seem as though Gale had come up with the idea, it'll be easier to convince him to allow Johns help

Gale starts thinking about ways of escaping, little does he know that John is carefully supplying them so that he can think of a feasible way to actually get Gale out

But Gale's giving up, the torture has left him beaten, bloody, and tired, and his mind is no longer accepting John's thoughts

He confesses that he's gonna give up and let them kill him; it's not worth the fuss and his body slowly dying

John kisses him then and Gale feels frail and weak beneath him, it makes anger surge through John's body

He's a well respected telepathic investigator, if he gets caught trying to aide a prisoner in escape, he will be hung

Gale's too weak to run so John practically drags him through the prison, mind on alert for any thoughts he can hear from guards that signal that they know they're escaping

Gale, pain riddled and delirious, looks up at John at some point and says something stupid like "Damn, an angel must be saving me," and it gives John the extra bit of strength to drag Gale's body out of the prison

They don't get caught, but they're not out of the woods yet, Gale's still injured and losing strength fast, John steals a horse and drapes Gale over his lap and bolts out of there

Once outside of the danger of the prison, John dumps Gale beneath and tree and nurses him back to health

Insert sensual wound dressing here, Gale musters up the strength to kiss John again and John has to stop Gale from hurting himself further

Something something they run away together, now both outlaws on the run, but they don't really care bcs they have each other (weeps)

this was very cathartic to write God I love fantasy and torture

lmk some of y'all's hcs for this! I don't really know how to end this but I am thinking it might be angsty 😈😈

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 10

Just two more chapters to go and then this little story is done. I'm glad I wrote it. It was very cathartic for me. I hope it brought some comfort to you too.

Here we find out who Steve has been grieving this whole time and that Eddie mourned them too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

****

Steve was quiet and contemplative on the trip back. And Eddie let him be. That was quite the roller coaster of emotion he had gone through and he knew Steve needed time to sort out all of his thoughts and feelings.

As they neared Ashland, Eddie asked, “Are you okay? It got pretty heavy back there.”

“Sorry,” Steve murmured.

“I wasn’t asking for forgiveness,” Eddie admonished gently. “I was asking if you were okay.”

Steve sighed. “I guess I just had so many things bottled up that it all came out in a rush.”

“So talk to me,” Eddie said softly. “I know you think you can’t talk to anyone else because they’re all younger than you. But I’m not. So spill.”

Steve let out a long shuddering breath as if he had been holding it in for years.

“It’s just there have only ever been two adults involved in the whole Upside Down shit,” Steve murmured. “Well, there have been others, but either they haven’t been trustworthy or they’ve died. And I’m not going to lie and say I’m not bitter about Mrs Byers taking her family out to California and leaving me as the remaining adult.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie said softly. He hadn’t even thought about that. “That wasn’t right. I get she was trying to get Will and El as far away from Hawkins as she could, but considering the frequency of the U.D. coming back, it does seem selfish when looked at from your point of view.”

“El wasn’t the only one grieving Hopper’s death,” Steve spat out. “Why were only her feelings taken into consideration? Why was his funeral ‘a private family’ affair instead of one benefiting a hero where the whole town could attend? Why was El the first one that got to see him? Why did it take days before anyone else was informed?”

Eddie saw a shoulder and pulled off onto it, the Bimmer crunching the gravel as it slowed to a stop.

“It must have been so hard on you,” Eddie murmured. “You mentioned back at the diner that he always looked out for you and then suddenly he was gone and no one thought to ask you if you needed time to grieve, right?”

Steve nodded. “I just felt so stupid after it was announced that he was alive, you know? Like how dare I mourn someone who hadn’t even died. But I thought that once everything settled down we would get a chance to talk, but nope. He went off to California with the Byers. They’re supposed all be back before school starts, but who knows if that’s even true.”

“Steve it isn’t stupid you grieved,” Eddie murmured. “But I bet if you told him what you’ve been feeling, he’d pretty upset that he hurt you like that.”

Tears started streaming down Steve’s face. “I just want to be loved as much I love them, is that really too much to ask for?”

Eddie unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled him in for a hug. “Of course it’s not. And I don’t doubt if you stopped to really think about it you can name at least a half a dozen people who love you as much as you love them.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle. “I could probably fill up all ten of my fingers, if I was honest to myself.”

Eddie wiped away his tears. “There you have it, big boy. But it’s okay to cry and if you feel like you need to fall apart, call me. I’ll come over with beer, weed, and bad horror films to mock until you laugh.”

Steve wiped his nose on his arm. “You promise?”

Eddie leaned back far enough to hold up his pinkie. “I pinkie promise.”

Steve hooked his finger around Eddie’s and shook on it.

“You ready to face the road again?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded. After a moment or two of silence, he spoke up. “You remember when ‘fake’ cried for Keith?” He used his fingers around the word fake to put it into air quotes.

Eddie, who was about to pull into traffic again, cut the engine. “Holy shit. It was Hopper, wasn’t it? That’s who you were remembering.”

Steve nodded. “It’s easy to cry when thinking about him, you know?”

“Because it’s new and even though he’s not dead, you never got your resolution?”

Steve nodded again. “I just feel so selfish about the whole thing, you know. He wasn’t my dad. I wasn’t related to him in anyway. But I thought I meant something to him, you know?”

Eddie turned the car back on and eased into traffic. “I’m sure you meant a lot to him, but there could be extenuating circumstances that prevented him from expressing that. Like I said before, I bet if you told him how you felt he’d be gutted.”

Steve just shrugged.

Eddie glanced over at him and then back at the road. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll tell Dustin about the time you flirted with his mom to get the brownie recipe.”

Steve’s went wide. “That was not flirting! I was just buttering her up a bit. That’s not the same thing.”

“Oh I know that,” Eddie said with a grin. “But would Dustin know the difference?”

Steve thought about it for a moment. “You drive a hard bargain, Lord Eddie.”

Eddie giggled. “You know, sometimes I forget you like ‘Star Wars’, you just aren’t great with their titles.”

“The third one is my favorite, after all.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “So back when I was just little metalhead, dealing for the first time one of my best customers was the Chief.”

Steve blinked. “Oh wait, I think I did hear something about that. I’m surprised he wasn’t fired.”

Eddie shrugged. “He wasn’t up for re-election. Sheriffs are elected. And small town like Hawkins, change is difficult. Hop would have to straight up murder babies in town hall and smear their blood over the church walls to get people to not vote for him.”

Steve snorted. “I doubt even then. It would take him being soft on homosexuals before they ousted him.”

Eddie laughed. “You’ve got me there.”

Steve smiled at him.

“So,” Eddie continued, “the reason I bring it up is that despite what people think, I’ve never been arrested for dealing and Rick hadn’t either until Hop ‘died’.”

Steve straightened up in his seat. “What do you mean?”

“Hop always said it was better to steer Rick away from certain places because he could,” Eddie said, “then it was to arrest him and have an all out war with the new supplier.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “That’s why Rick didn’t get arrested until Powell took over because he didn’t have the same philosophy that Hop did.”

“Right in one,” he said. “And it did get bad with people trying to fill the void he left behind. Uncle Wayne convinced to stop selling once I was out until Rick was released because I couldn’t trust the new suppliers not to cut their shit with something dangerous.”

“Holy shit, yeah,” Steve agreed. “So why are you telling me this?”

“Because Hop looked out for me, too,” Eddie said. “Especially when my old man rolled into town. He would make sure he got to the carnage first and made sure I never got a record.”

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “That makes since I always wondered why the police or Jason never brought up your arrest record. It’s because Hop made sure you never got one.”

“So this is me saying,” Eddie finished, “I get it. I get mourning him. Because in my own way I mourned him, too. Because between Hop and Uncle Wayne they made sure I could get out of Hawkins when the time came.”

“This is exactly why I pushed for a public funeral,” Steve grumbled, sinking back into his seat and crossing his arms. “I don’t know who had the final say on that, but it makes me mad that just because they didn’t have a body people in town wouldn’t want to come see anyway. It blows.”

“Here’s that,” Eddie agreed.

Too soon they were pulling up the Nelsons’ and the sun was starting to set.

By silent agreement they both got out of the car and sat on Steve’s hood to watch the sunset in a beautiful array of blues and purples until the sky darkened and the stars came out.

“Thank you for today,” Steve murmured. “For all of it. Getting me out here, taking me to my grandmother’s grave, sitting with me when I talked to Uncle Percy. Helping me with my grief even though yours is far more fresh and painful than mine.”

“Grief is grief, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “You don’t get to decide when it heals over. You were there for me when my dad showed up, so I was more than happy to return the favor with your family.”

“Thanks, man,” Steve said.

“So...” Eddie said. “You want to tell me why you and your uncle weren’t keen to let your other uncle see you?”

Steve snorted. “He’s the one that was the most against my mom getting any kind of inheritance. He didn’t think she should have gotten anything because she was a girl child. He kept saying that she got her money in the form of the lavish wedding she had when she married my dad.”

He ran his fingers through his hair.

“He’s sued her at least three times that I know of. If he had seen me he would have started screaming about how my mom didn’t deserve that money and that I was just as complicit in its ‘theft’ as she was.”

“But he got the house or whatever it was, right?” Eddie asked.

He nodded. “Yeah and the two acres of land it sits on. If he were to sell it would go for at least a few million, easy.”

“I’ll bet,” Eddie said, whistling long and low. “Which means Percy got the business?”

“Which another thing that upset Uncle Jasper,” Steve said. “But Uncle Percy is the oldest and had the best business sense, but he can’t let it go that he thinks his siblings got the better deal.”

“I heard this quote once about how some people are content in life, but that others just can’t be. That they will always seek more. Nothing will ever be enough.”

“Uncle Jasper is definitely one of those.”

Penny poked her head out the front door. “Come on in, boys, it’s really getting late.”

Eddie and Steve stood up and walked back into the house, feeling lighter then they had since before March.

****

Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster @r0binscript @awkotaco24 @ilikeititspretty

[gloriousburden]

Why are we just supposed to forget that Loki is a Frost Giant? This is A BIG THING!!! This is the big dark secret, the scandal, the controversy, the tragedy, the horror, the origin, the defining moment, the catalyst, the turning point of no return, and now we're just expected to ...not think about it?  Or treat it like it's no big deal, as if it's the same thing as saying Loki has a double-jointed thumb, it's just useless information now? Or laugh about it, as if it’s some kind of embarrassing, hilarious accident of birth Loki deserves for existing?  Can you imagine how incredible, how cathartic, how satisfying it could have been, if only? If only.

OH MY GOD YES!! Between the play (Supposedly written by Loki though he felt immense shame over being Jotun, as well as the overall discrimination against Frost Giants from Asgardians…) from Ragnarok, the Loki/Sylvie blanket scene (I don’t care if it was flirting. NEITHER OF THEM WOULD GET COLD FROM A SMALL BREEZE. I DON’T EVEN GET COLD FROM A SMALL BREEZE!), and "Because I see a scared little boy shivering in the cold and you kinda feel bad for that ice runt." From Mobius being like the only reference to Loki’s heritage in the series?! Ugh.

“Am I cursed?”

“Laufey’s son?”

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?

“What, because I.. I.. I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

“You know, it all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all these years, because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

“I’m not your brother! I never was!”

“He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?”

(These quotes make me so sad. Poor Loki. He really went through so much.)

Yes, because the same Loki who was in so much distress about his heritage would crack jokes about it and talk openly about it in front of the common people of Asgard, who view Frost Giants as monsters to tell scary stories about to their children, and enemies.

If Loki didn’t find out that he was a Frost Giant… a lot of things would have gone differently not only for him, but as well as other MCU characters. It is essential to his character, and should’ve been talked about more outside of it being used to belittle him, comedy relief, and outside of AUs such as the What If? episode.

It is so unfair. I do also wish it was talked about in TDW, though I know the movie wasn’t necessarily Loki centered.

Haha guys he’s blue and adopted and a runt. It’s so funny and totally not an essential part of his character. It’s not like he’s deeply affected by any of this, or anything. 🤦🏻‍♀️

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What are your opinions on more „popular“ salt takes about Adrien and Mari, like the typical „Adrichat is an ass for for flirting with LB after she rejects him“ and „Maribug us a horrible stalker“?

Well, I'd be lying if I said that I have no idea where they're coming from. There are definitely times when I'll watch an episode and wonder what in the world the writers are trying to do, especially when it comes to Adrien's behavior as it's played a lot more straight than Marinette's. While I don't like her behavior at times, it's almost always treated as a joke, not a dramatic character beat whereas I cannot say the same for Adrien.

But these are characters in a TV show, not real people and we need to keep that in mind when judging them. It's why my go-to thought is "what is wrong with the writing staff" and not "Adrien is an incel." Because Adrien is very clearly not supposed to be an incel. Unless the writers are plotting something truly asinine, the Love Square is our end game couple. We are supposed to view Adrien as a charming and funny romantic lead. When he falls short of that role, it's not Adrien "showing his true colors." He's a fictional character. He has no true colors. If his actions and words are ever unbecoming for a romantic lead, it's because the writers are failing to write Adrien the way they want us to see him.

They consistently do this to all of the characters. Alya's supposed to be an awesome friend and a smart journalist (I think), but she can't see through Lila's BS. Marinette's parents are supposed to be loving and supportive, but they randomly believed that their daughter stole from their bakery to make a dress and didn't even try to let her explain herself. Nino is supposed to be the Chosen of Protection, but he didn't care to protect his best friend and just happily sent Gabriel on a rampage without a second thought.

Give me a character and I can point to a bunch of episodes that justify every salty take this fandom has because they're not pulling this stuff from thin air. They're picking and choosing the worst writing in the show and venting about it, which is frankly understandable. Like I get why there are so many Alya salt fics. Her writing in the Lila episodes is infuriating and I do find those fics a little cathartic at times. But it's really, really obvious that she's not supposed to be a terrible friend. She's a victim of the writers drawing the Lila plot line out for far too long and making Lila's lies far too obvious.

Similarly, a lot of the issues with Adrien and Marinette stem from the fact that you simply can't draw a romance plot out for five seasons without causing issues unless you make the romance a background plot. But they didn't do that. The love square is front and center for most episodes, but since it can't actually resolve, the writers keep adding drama that makes our leads feel horribly unhealthy.

On the Marinette side, her not being able to talk to Adrien was fine as an initial issue, but we are five seasons into this show. Over 100 episodes! You reach a point where it stops being cute and starts being concerning. It's also not helped by the fact that Marinette's crush is written like a celebrity crush and not a crush on someone she actually knows. Daily exposure to Adrien should mellow her out. Especially since he's supposed to be her friend! But if the writers let Marinette talk to Adrien, then they'd grow closer and might feel like they had to get together, so they couldn't let that. Thus Marinette being a disaster for four seasons and the terrible shoehorned plot to try and justify it in season five.

On the Adrien side, they let Chat Noir confess too soon. Prior to that, the Ladynoir relationship was a playful one where it was feasible that Ladybug just viewed her kitty as a massive flirt. This was especially true since he flirts with everyone. But once she knew that he was serious? The playfulness vanished and Chat Noir started coming across as entitled and pushy. It didn't help that they had him ignoring her preferences ("Don't call me Bugaboo") and getting them in trouble by not taking his job seriously (his flirting getting them hit in Oblivio).

In summary, the love square should have been resolved much sooner or been relegated to a b plot that got far less attention. I also would have reversed the square since it makes for a far more interesting story that you can organically draw out longer, but that's just me. I don't have any issue with people ignoring the canon problems and just writing Adrien and Marinette as the cute couple that they were obviously intended to be. I also enjoy fics that treat Adrien's pushiness as a character flaw that can be resolved because that's what canon should have done. His issues aren't the mark of a terrible person. They're the understandable flaws of a teenager who is in love for the first time and doesn't know how to express himself. If a show would actually address this kind of common tween/teen issue, then a lot of kids would get an incredibly valuable lesson that would help them when they grow up and fall in love. If you're ever watching Miraculous with a kid, I strongly encourage you to approach Adrien's character from that perspective. Talk about why his actions are understandable, but ultimately wrong and more likely to push someone away than win their heart just like we see with Ladybug.

[fortunatelyseveredreamland]

What a week…

It’s so weird to be back here. I am sad I deleted my blog so many years ago and forgot what it was even called. I knew I’d come back eventually if something big were to happen. Never thought this exact thing would be the reason.

I was at work on Wednesday when I found out. My hands immediately shook and my heart sank. I couldn’t wait to leave to get home and be able to know more and mourn. As soon as I got in the car, I started crying.

It’d been such a long time since 1D took up this much space in my brain. It feels like a lifetime ago, sitting on tumblr from night to morning. Rewatching the video diaries and music videos millions of times. Making my friends and followers one shots and photoshopped texts. Plastering my entire room with posters from every magazine I could find. But somehow, it also feels like yesterday?

It felt weird to have my mind immediately transport back to being in my room and only caring about the boys. Sleepovers with my bestie revolving around their music.

I don’t think I have ever loved something as much as I love One Direction. The feeling of hanging out with you all and loving the boys so very much. I wish I could feel that way right now without the overwhelming amount of guilt.

I had to come back here with a brand new account and feel this community’s embrace again. The only people that will ever truly understand this feeling. And I’m so glad I did. While everyone is speaking how they feel, they are also sharing old posts, and funny ones. Ones that make all of the good memories come rushing back like a rough river. It’s like I never left. And in some way, I don’t think I ever truly did. I left my heart on this website and in One Direction and now I feel like there is a part of my soul that is never coming back. But maybe in due time, he can live in that void for the rest of time.

I have seen a lot of posts about inner child. But to be honest, I don’t think my inner child is crying. My full adult self is crying. The part of me that would spend all of my life savings on a ticket to an ot5 reunion. The little girl inside of me left long ago, but the adult 27 year old woman who has nothing to look forward to now feels like she’s actively dying inside. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were supposed to live until they were 90. It’s just unfair and too soon.

I’d like to say that I hope all of you are doing well. This is the first day since the news that I haven’t been a full puddle of tears, but I also keep waking up and hoping this is a nightmare. I took a shower and blasted take me home. I cried a little bit it was cathartic. It made me feel that all of those memories are worth so much to not only me but to the boys and their families.

I’d like to round this off with my letter to Liam.

Hey Leeyum,

I miss you like crazy already. Which pains me to say because I could’ve been a more active fan for you in the last few years. I knew what had been happening, but always felt like you were going to come out on the other side, stronger. I wish we all could’ve saved you.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for writing songs that helped me through my teenage and early adult years. They still do. Thank you for making us laugh. Thank you for making us proud. I know you wouldn’t want us to wallow in sadness for you. You’d want us to talk about the memories.

The boys love you so much and I hope you knew that. There was no One Direction without you. You were the glue that held it all together. You deserved more public love than you were ever given. I just hope you know how much the 1D family cares and loves you.

I’m so sorry this was the way your story ended. You deserved so much more than life gave you. I will love you until the end of time, sweet boy. <3

I love you all. Please take care of yourselves. I plan on sticking around a while. Hope to see more names that I recognize on my feed.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Penny00Dreadful! @penny00dreadful has 29 fics in the Stranger Things fandom with 25 of them being in the Steddie Tag!

@hbyrde36 recommends the following works by @penny00dreadful:

Crossroads

Cat and Mouse

I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife

And They Were Roommates!

The Parting Glass

Sam, on top of being an absolutely amazing writer (AND artist!), is one of the brightest lights in this fandom (in my humble opinion). She is incredibly kind and encouraging, always ready to uplift other authors in the Steddie and ST fanfic worlds. I have had the incredible pleasure of being her beta reader for quite some time now, and am consistently blown away by her talent. There isn't a single one of her works that I wouldn't recommend, they are all fantastic reads. -- @hbyrde36

Below the cut, @penny00dreadful answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Opposites attract has always been a major draw for me, especially in my fandoms. Every pairing I’ve ever gotten into in every fandom I’ve been in have all been opposites attract and I’m not going to lie to you, I did not make that realization until this question. 😅 I had a very “Huh… that tracks” moment about it. 🤣 So the opposites attract factor is definitely big for me and while I suppose you could say that’s true for many, many pairings in fandom, there’s something about the complete opposite of both Steve and Eddie that is just enrapturing. From their aesthetic, to their personalities, to their upbringing, it creates such incredibly interesting parallels and options for building stories around them. On top of that, the two of them are so compelling as characters. Their various hang ups and traumas, their loves and hates, the time period and the genre of work they originated in all coalesce into something so captivating. I adore the two of them so much, they’re so fascinating. I think everyone can find a little bit of themselves in either one of them, but especially with the addition of Eddie into the series we got a character who was ‘other’, in the same way so many of us feel and are seen, he speaks to us on such a personal level. So, yeah. I love them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Oh boy. There are so many. Enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff. But if I had to pick one that has been my longest standing love, it would have to be a slow burn. Like, when it hits, it hits. And it hits hard.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I looooove writing some tasty hurt/comfort. There’s just something so addictive about someone needing to be taken care of after something bad or traumatic happens or they’ve just had a really shitty day. It’s so cathartic. And also, I cannot like, I love getting comments screaming at me that I’ve made people hurt or cry or feel things because I know I’m going to make it better, I’m gonna give them that comfort. And it’s such an incredible compliment from people when they tell me that my writing has made them feel feelings. Like it is the highest praise possible that I could induce that in someone. It feels amazing.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh my god, that is such a difficult question to answer. I have read so many that have left a permanent mark on my heart or completely rewired my brain. I had to go look through my bookmarks to narrow it down because my god, there are so many talented people in this fandom and even then I was attempted to just give a list of all my top ones because, god they make me feel so many things, people are so fucking talented, I love them. But I would say if I had to choose one, there’s one that lives rent free in my brain. I think of it all the time, it is so god damn special to me and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s the first one that came to mind, It would have to be wouldn’t it be nice (if we could wake up) by kissesforcas  kissesforcas I have talked about this fic on my blog before but it just hits me in the right way every time I read it, it’s absolutely magical. I can’t recommend it enough, please go read it. It changed me completely.  There’s so many beautiful moments in it, the two boys are so protective of each other in it, but they also adore their found family and will defend them at any cost, the two of them feel real, their communication feels genuine and honest and realistic while also being true to their characters, I just adore it.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES. FANTASY. It is wild to me that I have not done a fully fledged fantasy AU at all yet. Like I adore fantasy, what gives? Why have I not done it yet? Omg ALSO, historical. Like a lot of my special interests are historical based, WHY have I not done that yet?? AND, AND horror maybe? Like a psychological or zombie or paranormal/supernatural or slasher. So many things I haven’t explored that I want to do, and I can’t wait!

What is your writing process like?

Okay, so first things first, I get an idea.  Kind of obvious, I know, but yeah, the idea stage. Usually it’ll be something that hit out of nowhere, I’ll write down one line in the ideas doc and then pretend I won’t be thinking of it for the rest of the day. Then when I admit to myself I want to expand on it, I’ll take all of the brain worms attached to that idea and put them in their own doc. It’ll all be VERY disjointed at this stage, just a stream of consciousness of different situations/conversations/plot bunnies that popped into my head. Once I feel like I have enough of a concept through that, I begin to put them in order, maybe add a few more. Then I outline. I’m an outline kinda gal.  Over a page or two I’ll give a bare bones outline of what the fic will be, almost like it’s a short story? But still very rough.  Then I’ll start writing, usually in chronological order, I find that makes it easier to plant seeds and foreshadow and create consistency with the voice of the fic. Sometimes I will jump ahead if I’m really excited about a particular part of the fic, I’ll get it out before I lose steam on it. HOWEVER, I find that I almost ALWAYS diverge from the outline. If, as I’m writing, things start going in a different direction, I go with the flow, I don’t fight it. Fighting it, I feel is detrimental to my writing, trying to force myself into a box and hey, going with the flow has been working out pretty well for me so far. 🤣

Do you have any writing quirks?

Quirks? I dunno about that. I think I’m a pretty standard writer, but I do end up writing across three devices a lot of the time depending on where’s more comfortable. PC, tablet and phone. I’ll always stick to writing whatever my brain is focusing on at that time, but if I know I need to get a fic out and I’m not really feeling the inspo anymore, I’ll give myself an extra boost by watching movies with similar themes, listening to music related to it, or even just searching the trope on Pinterest can help me generate excitement about it again.Also do yourself a favor and get yourself a Bluetooth keyboard. It’s a game changer for writing on your phone.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’ve done both and I much prefer posting on a set schedule. I always try to get the fic at least 50% finished before I start posting to give myself a nice cushion. Yeah, the immediate endorphin hit of posting once I’m done is great, but I much prefer the option to have a fic mostly or completely done before I post, so I can go back in and tweak things to make a theme hit harder or stick in a tad more foreshadowing or even just to edit.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I love all of my works, honestly. I write for me. I write the things I want to read. I think it would be difficult to narrow down a fic that I am the most proud of. Like I’m actually having a really difficult time picking one and saying “This one. This is the one I am most proud of.” Because I am proud of all of them and it’s for each of their own reasons. Like, some are very, very personal to me, some are stories that made me feel completely unhinged and obsessed(affectionately) and some are stories that touched people in very real ways, or made them feel safe and seen and that is so incredibly special to me. It’s a bit of a cop out to say that I can’t pick one, I can’t choose between my children, but I really can’t, they’re all so special, at least to me, in their own ways.

How did you get the idea for Crossroads?

So I have never seen the movie The Old Guard, but I have heard of it and while I know that reincarnation is not an aspect of that movie, I was struck with the idea of someone going through life over, and over, and over again, just to be close to the one they love the most. Like that kind of time bending devotion. And I had a brain worm of various historical ways of dying and I couldn’t figure out a way to write all of them into one fic before the idea of reincarnation hit. The very first image I had in my head of Eddie dying was being burned at the stake, so I had to work my way up to that time period and beyond. I knew I didn’t want it to be something that had only happened a few times over a couple of hundred years.  I knew I wanted it to be an ancient, centuries spanning kind of devoted love which is what led me to Ancient Greece, and in leading me there, I had to figure out why this was happening. Why Steve was traversing time just to be next to his boy again. Hecate appeared out of the mist and invaded my brain and it all kind of spilled out onto the page after that. 

When writing Cat and Mouse, what was something you didn’t expect?

I gotta be honest, the whole fic was unexpected. 😅 It was one of those stories when I originally thought of it, it was only gonna be a short little thing, maybe one or two chapters. By the end of it we were at 16 chapters and over 70K. Apparently I have no idea how to write anything short. But I think what also took me by surprise was how feral the two of them were for each other even though they didn't actually get together until later. I knew I wanted to have them being snappy and flirtatious for the whole thing and it evolved into the two of them being so dedicated to each other after only meeting a few times. I also didn’t expect the wild reaction I got to the fic, people loved it and were chomping for more and I was floored by it, it made me so incandescently happy!

What inspired Cat and Mouse?

So, the short answer is I saw this post from steddielations and it burrowed so deep into my brain, I had to get it out! Long answer is it was a mix of that post, and then a bit of Mr & Mrs. Smith mixed in along with John Wick. I just loved the idea of two deadly people being so soft for each other they’d be willing to burn the world for each other, do anything at any cost to keep the other safe.

What was your favorite part to write from And They Were Roommates!?

Oh my god, the banter. The banter was loaded with bitching and queerspeak and jabs, it was so much fun. I hadn’t really seen a story where the steddie boys had been bitchy queers before, like leaning into it and I just had to, I had to. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and I could have gone on for ages just the two of them biting back and forth.

How do/did you feel writing I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife?

Conflicted, honestly. I was worried the POV I was writing from would be a little too out there, you know? There were a few times throughout writing where I thought I’d have to go back and change it out to be more of a standard fic but at the end of the day it felt so right to have the story told the way it was and it also felt very in line with Take Me To Church as well. It’s also the most poetic piece of writing I have done to date and while it’s not something I can see myself revisiting too often, it was a fantastic exercise in moving out of my comfort zone. It got me, right in the heart.

What was the most difficult part of writing The Parting Glass?

Oh boy. The whole fic was an exercise in catharsis. It was a way of processing my own grief after losing a family member and getting it all out into words was very, very helpful. I think the hardest part was just putting down into words how Eddie was feeling right in the aftermath, you know? Like grief is such a personal thing, everyone experiences it differently, so I wanted to try to figure out how Eddie would respond to it, especially considering it was the death of someone so important to him. So to have him looking around the trailer and it being empty but still with bits of Wayne dotted around like he was about to walk back through the door was probably the realest and most difficult part for me.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Oh god there’s so many! I could pick so many! But the first thing that came to mind is the small interaction between Eddie and Robin in Return of The King, when Steve is demonstrating his newly acquired vampire strength for the kids and Eddie has to hold onto Robin to keep himself from melting into a puddle: “Down boy.” She muttered. “Me next.” He practically whimpered right back. “Oh god, Robbie, I wanna be that stump. Tell him to do me next.” “You’re pathetic.” “What about it?” [...] Robin leaned in close to his ear but continued to stare at Steve. “If you two don’t calm the fuck down I’m going to get the hose.” Wet Steve. “Please get the hose.” I love Robin and Eddie together whenever I can get them snarking at each other, it’s just so entertaining. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh yeah! A good few things. I’m coming back from my writing break and I’m going to be working on the final two fics for my anniversary event, Through The Valley and Devotion.  I also have a Summer Exchange Fic in the works along with starting on my Steddie Big Bang piece that I am also signed up for as an artist, I’m so excited to start them!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think I would just like to add that this blog, this concept is such a wonderful idea, you’re doing great work here to bring people and fics to new eyes and it has been an honor and a privilege to be put forward the way I have, I’m so so so thankful. 🖤

Thank you to our author, @penny00dreadful, and our nominator, @hbyrde36! See more of Penny00Dreadful's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[ilikekidsshows]

He can literally TELL HER that stuff bothers him and she more often than not just continues talking about her side of the matter, barely acknowledging anything he says at all beyond what little overlaps with her side.

This line from familyagrestefanblog remind me that this is what happened in Wishmaker. Cat tell her that he doesn't have any childhood dreams and she just... brushed it off, saying "Oh you're probably forget" and then listing the potential dream that she thought he might had. It's as if the conversation is just there for the sake of breaking the silence (because Cat has been mostly quiet during the battle) and not for the sake of her trying to get to know her so called favorite partner and it's so grating.

I remember years ago you made an analysis how Ladybug took Cat's presences and kindness for granted and that he's just convenience for her and I was upset then, be ause that wasn't what I see from their dynamic. But watching s4 and 5 make me realize that it really is the case, that Cat is just a convenience for her and that upset me more.

To quote from one of my favorite manhwa :

Doubt is the best thing you can do to deeply understand the other person, trustly the other person rahsly and blindly is the same as not trusting them.

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Yeah, my takes on Marinette have always been just too spicy for some people. Although, I’ll say to your credit that I had no idea that the Fae Cat Noir interpretation was controversial because everyone was just so polite about it. I do remember that a lot of Marinette fans had also been noticing that Marinette compartmentalized her double life into two separate boxes that shouldn't overlap. Of course, it could be that the idea let people think it's not a big deal she forgets about Cat Noir when he isn't in front of her, because she does this with everything relating to her job as Ladybug. Frankly, I think the fact that she does that to such a degree just shows how unmotivated she is, but I used to think she was just being the reluctant hero archetype and wasn't expecting the writers to claim her failings as a hero are a victory.

And that's the thing with a lot of my past criticisms of Marinette; I never used to really hold them against her because I thought they'd be temporary. I used to think all of her failings as a friend, partner and hero were supposed to be signs of her immaturity. I thought that, as Marinette grew as a person and hero, she'd learn to overcome many of her failings and grow into a more dependable person, because that's an empowering story to tell young girls, that them being awkward and weird now doesn't mean they can't make their own path in life. This is why I adored Marinette as a character despite disagreeing with her values so much.

But now the writers have decided that "empowerment" means excusing all bad behavior instead of becoming better. I don't think telling little girls that their friends should just shut up and be understanding when they make every mistake under the sun and refuse to improve is empowering. It could be cathartic, I guess, to fantasize about yourself as the queen of the universe like that, but it's no way to write a supposed role model that should be emulated.