#it's already been over a year since the last bad dogs cover

[project-sekai-facts]

This isn't really anything but bonus trivia for today: the most recent MMJ duet cover is now 1 year old. Happy birthday Minori/Airi Setsuna Trip cover!

[princessmyriad]

.

[hyewka]

dude sub!beomgyu is so hot. but you know what's hotter? bratty, possessive sub!gyu. maybe i'm biased cuz i like my men like that but likeeeee

wanna overstimulate him so bad until he's crying and whining for more 😵‍💫😵‍💫 n he probably acts like a bitch at the start, acting all confident and dominant.. yet the second you start fucking him he just folds :(

literally pushing my obsessive sub gyu agenda on everyone but he'd probably fuck you after seeing you getting all close with someone else as a way to show dominance 😵‍💫 gyu seems like the type who'd overstim himself inside of you too, moaning shit like "you're mine" as he chokes on his sobs.. might as well flip him over and let him know he belongs to you only :))

anyways i'm kinda hungry 😍

warnings; sub!yandere-ish beomgyu, cockwarming, mentions of overstim? hair pulling, reader’s equally obsessive sorta, not proofread

-

You twist your sore wrist, trying to relieve the pain Beomgyu you think, or at least hope, had unintentionally inflicted. But with the way he's been increasingly needy the more time you had spent shopping, the more you're sure it was far from an accident.

So it was no surprise how fast he got you on the bed when you finally went back home.

“You’re so mean to me.” he mutters in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin. Beomgyu has you pinned under him, his hold unforgiving, pressing down on your body. “You do it on purpose. Make me so fucking crazy, I hate it.”

You flutter your eyes shut when his lips make contact with your sensitive flesh, the slight nip making you breathe heavier. “Beomgyu.” you try warning, to stop him from going further, but it only spurs him on.

Earlier, you stumbled upon Jeongin-- your old highschool friend, while window shopping with Beomgyu by your side. Naturally, you'd want to catch up as you haven't seen him since the last highschool reunion which was two years ago. The longer you spent enthusiastically talking, the more you felt Beomgyu's fingertip dig into your wrist.

You figured he was jealous, and when Beomgyu was jealous, he was different in the sense that he needed reassurance. A lot of it.

When he starts sucking harshly, marking all over your neck down to your collarbones, hips increasingly grinding against your clothed core, his grunts ceasing to be an act slipping his neediness against your skin, you run up your hand to the back of his head grabbing a fistful— you were always fine with his desperation to give you hickeys whenever he felt insecure, laying pliant and letting him cover you with varying purple splotches but the drawn line was always him fucking you.

And that was exactly what he was trying to do, whore.

You yank his head back and the horny dog has no shame letting the blush creep up his cheeks even when he hisses out a curse. “Who gave you the right to grind against me?”

“What? I can’t try to fuck my girlfriend but you can go around whoring with—"

He shrieks when you pull his hair again, his scalp burning, tears already brimming on his waterline. “You have such a filthy mouth pup, I ought to put it to better use, no?”

His eyes still have the audacity to look down at you. You sneer, a soft scoff escaping your lips. Beomgyu has always been one to try and dom during sex, which you wouldn’t mind if it weren’t for the fact that you knew the poor boy was weak after a single twist to his bud.

After a few beats of silence, you decide to pull him down for a quick kiss, a mix of saliva and tongue, before you abruptly stop reciprocating and Beomgyus left whimpering against your lips urging you to continue. You put your hand on his chest, getting him to reluctantly pull away. “No. You have to fix your attitude first.”

He shakes his head, “You’re the one whos been talking about Jungwoon or whatever his name is—"

“Jeongin.”

“I don’t care! You couldn’t shut up about him the entire way here! I hate it. It feels like he could sweep you off your feet when I’m not paying attention and then—and then you’ll…” his assertive demeanor cracks in a flash, his face flushed, lower lip quivering up into a pout, “You’ll leave me and, and—“

You don’t let him finish, flicking his forehead to which his hand immediately fly up to rub as if you just smacked it. “Ouch? What was that for?”

“You’re such a dumb boy.” You say shaking your head. “I mentioned Jeongin once. Once during our way here because you seemed so bothered by how we knew each other.”

You weren’t lying, proven by the way Beomgyu tries to counter your point, but closes his mouth after nothing comes out. A sly smile, and your hands already sneakily sliding up his loose hoodie, thumb finding their way to graze his already hard nipples, “Baby boy got stupid jealous just because I talked to a guy, huh?”

His arms that were holding him up, pinned next to both sides of your body had started to tremble. So fast, it was almost comical.

“Shut up. He wasn’t just some guy. He was totally into you.”

You rub his bud in circles, cooing at how his hair falls over his face, as he tries to gain composure. “Really? You thought he was checking me out too?” you tease, making sure to catch him off guard with a random pinch.

His body jerks, a strained exhale leaving his lips before hes too weak to keep himself up anymore, head falling to bury itself in the crook of your neck, getting you to feel his bulge against your thigh. He was already giving up.

“Stooop.” he whines, continuing to rub his crotch on your inner thigh. “You’re so mean to me.”

You decide to give it up, instead twirling a strand of his soft hair as he gets more and more feverish against your leg. “N-no more teasing. Have to be inside you.” he finally breathes out, a call of desperation, so needy Beomgyu was.

Beomgyu who’s too impatient to fully take off your skirt, only pulling them up before he bunches up your panties to the side, his tip barely protruding your entrance before he pushes in his red dick in, so inexperienced and stupid, shuddering as he keeps his cock buried.

“You have to move pup.” you instruct lightly, trying to fuck yourself on his dick, but it proves impossible as Beomgyu shakes his head adamantly.

His breathing is heavy, dumb mind already filled with esctasy, head finding comfort in the warmth of your shoulder, cock drilled so deep inside he might go insane with your warmth, “Wanna stay in here forever."

“And ever.” he sighs, sucking on your abused hickeys again. “So you’ll never leave.”

It should’ve been concerning, a red flag to look back on but what happens if you feel the same way? Having him only be by your side.

Beomgyu who finally starts moving, ever so slightly, moaning with each small sharp snap into you. It takes you by complete shock when his pace goes a complete 180, Beomgyu becoming crazed, his thrusts quickly becoming sharp and erratic, so similar to his humping earlier with no particular rhythm, hammering into you, each love proclamation as tears waste no time to stain his cheeks, body shuddering with his head feeling light, drool trickling down under his chin, “Mine, mine, mine. Jeongin can’t have you like this. You’re mine.”

His body presses against yours, leaving no room for breathing, kissing you so roughly, yet his soft lips are a contrast, “I only belong to you. Nobody else—ha!”

His hips stagger, lanky body once looming over you so weak and frail. “N-no! Am cumming, cumming—“ he babbles so loudly, the sight so beautiful, his lashes more pronounced with the wetness of his tears. He belongs to you, he’s right. Just pressing against where his nipples are gets him to cum prematurely. You smirk feeling smug, even when simply the sound of his cute moans has you weak. You feel his hot load shoot inside you, bad boy.

He tries to catch his breath, clearly dumb fucked, chest heaving, as he falls to your side on the bed. You don’t let the boy get away so easily after not even making sure you finished.

The terrified look in his eyes as you swiftly get on top of him, switching positions was enough for you to know that this was going to be a long fucking night.

[lllivia]

can i request?

pranking Jackie, that u got a hickey from someone else so you can get back at her after she pranked u :p

Happy April Fools Day!!

Jackie Taylor x f!reader

TYSM FOR THE REQUESTT, literally the perfect timing since its April 1st today 😭😭 (I completely forgot about this for MONTHS 💀)

summary: getting revenge on your girlfriend after last year's April Fools Day

warnings: modern au, infidelity prank, not proofread, slightly suggestive at the end

_

Wow maybe this is a little bit too far you can't help but think nervously as you look over yourself in the mirror, makeup brushes scattered across the sink counter.

As you pat your finger one last time over the now very convincing hickey the sense of guilt that was creeping up your throat quickly disappears when you recall the godawful prank your conniving little girlfriend pulled to deserve this.

_

Last April Fools Day you had come home exhausted from a long day at school with a strong need to shower. And you didn't really think much of it as you stepped under the hot stream, letting the water run over your hair and body.

you'd scrubbed off all the grime left from soccer practice before you lastly reached over to your shampoo bottle, eyes still closed as you felt your way over to it before squeezing a generous amount into your hand.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK"

You yelled at your own reflection the second you stepped out of the shower and looked in the fogged up mirror where everything seemed to be normal - except your now bright pink hair.

"What the fuck what the fuck oh my god" you rambled frantically as you quickly searched the name of your girlfriend into your phone, immediately knowing that she was behind this.

"Jackie what did you do!" Is the first thing your raised voice said after she picked up the phone call, irritation bubbling up as she burst out laughing when your disgruntled face shows on her screen, her plan had clearly worked.

"Happy April fools day!!" She responded breathlessly, still not done laughing.

"This is not funny Jax - I look like a clown oh my god" you continued and looked up into the mirror again. Well it didn't actually look that bad - but still.

"Well then you'll be my sexy clown baby, you look hot, I have to say pink is definitely your color" Jackie giggled evilly back, way too smug for your liking as you continued glaring.

_

The dye hadn't washed out of your hair for like a month, and ever since then you had been planning what would be the best way to get back at Jackie.

Everything was ready, you had already set up for her to come over today to just watch a movie and hang out, so it would be perfect to 'accidentally' flash the self made bruise at her while you were cuddling or something.

Your phone suddenly pings.

'I'm standing outside 💕' - Jax 🐰⚽

You quickly cover the makeshift bruise on your neck before walking to the front door, a little bit anxious.

"Hi baby" your girlfriend grins and greets you as she steps inside, immediately making herself comfortable as she throws herself onto your large couch.

"Hi Jackie" you smile back, rubbing your clammy hands on your shorts before following her slightly on edge.

"I know I said we'd go to the arcade but I'm kinda tired today so can we please just watch a movie here?" you sit down next to her and pout, giving her your infamous puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah that's fine.. On one condition" she replies in a serious tone making you sweat even more.

"What?" Surely she hadn't figured out what you were doing yet right?

"You have to win me the biggest teddy they have the next time we go to the arcade" She answers smiling widely.

Pushing her playfully you can't help but roll your eyes lovingly. "yeahh yeah of course"

An hour goes by as you cuddle up together, enjoying each others presence as you watch some movie in the background. Deciding now was the time to finally get back at her, you shift a little, making the bruise more visible to where she was sitting.

Another few minutes go by before it's Jackie's turn to shift uncomfortably as she studies the mark clearly planted on your neck.

"What the fuck is that" she musters.

"Hm what?" You answer, hiding your tiny smirk as you look over at her.

"What the fuck is that bruise on your neck."

You brush your hair back over the mark, acting both confused and slightly defensive.

"I don't know what you're on about Jax" you shrug.

Her eyes blaze with anger as she forcefully grabs your face by the chin, turning your head to the side before studying your neck more closely.

"This is clearly a huge fucking hickey y/n, who was it?"

"No one- it's fine Jackie let's just finish the movie" you pull away.

She stands up.

"I'm leaving, this is such bullshit - I thought we were doing good - perfect even. And then you have to go make out with some whore" she says harshly, blinking away the tears that had slowly crept up on her before storming towards the front door.

Shit that had gone way worse than you were expecting - you weren't even sure what you were expecting from this.

"Jackie wait! Shit" you stumble over your own legs as you rush after your furious girlfriend. "It was a prank! I'm pranking you ok, I just wanted to get back at you for last year"

Just as she was about to turn the handle you catch up with her "I promise, see?" You carefully turn her face towards you again.

"What."

You reach up and rub your hand over your neck forcefully. Turning it red with not only with the bloodflow rushing up towards the friction but also the eyeshadow getting smudged all over.

"It's makeup, it was all fake baby. It was just an April Fools prank - a really really stupid one at that"

You say hastily and caress the girls cheek softly, soothing her.

She looks away again, blinking a couple of more times to process before smiling slightly. "..I guess you got me this time" but then she swats your hand away from her and comes dangerously close. "But if you ever EVER do something like this again, I will kick your ass."

You chuckle "mkay if you say so" then grimace "how about we go out, I feel like I kinda owe you"

She purses her lips for a second before looking you over. "Or- we could stay right here, and I could show you what real hickeys look like"

You scoff smirking "how could I say no to that"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my mom not to invite my sister on vacation with us?

(submitted 5/26/24)

I (22X) have a lot of anxiety about politics (namely the upcoming presidential election and its potential consequences regarding my access to healthcare, among many other things). It started in 2016 and then just kept getting worse and worse as the years went on. I know that if I try to go about my day as normal on election night, I’ll most likely end up obsessively refreshing polling results and worrying myself into a panic attack (or several). So, I did a lot of research and planned a week-long vacation on and a bit after election day. It’s at a nice cabin a short drive away that’s all about disconnecting from phones and technology and reconnecting with nature. I figured because everyone in my family votes absentee already, me and my mom (56F) could go up together while my dad and my oldest sister (63M and 25F) would stay home because of work obligations and take care of our pets. My mom was really enthusiastic about the idea (especially because I went on a vacation with my dad last year, and it’s been a long time since her and I have had a parent child bonding trip), and she helped me finalize the dates and pay for the cabin. I’m in college and haven’t been able to find a summer job, but I’m still trying to save money to help cover the cost of food/entertainment/gas for the trip.

When we were booking, she talked about potentially inviting my sister (24F) on vacation too, as a family bonding thing. She moved out a year and a bit ago and is living with a friend, so my mom doesn’t get to see her all that often. But I really don’t want my sister to come along. Me and her haven’t gotten along since elementary school, and now whenever she visits I’m on edge the whole time. Plus, she has a very old special needs dog that she would have to bring with her that needs constant supervision, and his energy wildly varies between “sleeps in a ball all day” and “blindly runs around screaming and peeing everywhere and getting stuck like a roomba all day”. Which again, that’s very stressful to me. In addition, whenever my sister is over at our house, she always finds a way to bring up politics and wants to talk about current events (never the good ones, only the bad ones). Thankfully we agree on the important things (even if she leans a tad more towards the center than I do), but still. The whole point of this trip is to avoid having to worry about politics, and she always finds a way to bring it up. Plus, I just genuinely think she’d go stir crazy being cooped up in a cabin with me and my mom and poor cell service. There’s not a lot to do in the surrounding area besides hiking (she’s got a heart condition), a small Main Street with some shops that’s a 15 minute drive away, and a diner. It’ll probably just be reading, board games, and cards for a week straight.

Why I think I’d be TA: my mom and her don’t spend a lot of time together, and my mom is the one paying for the vacation. Even though I think she wouldn’t like glamping with us, my sister could still want to be invited and want to come along.

Why I think I wouldn’t be TA: I don’t think my sister would like being in a cabin with me and my mom for a week straight with no TV and poor cell service. My oldest sister is also not going on vacation with us due to work obligations, so they could have some sisterly bonding time while we’re away. Plus, the entire point of the vacation is to have a few days where I don’t have to dread election results, and I know my sister is going to want to talk about election results as soon as they start coming in.

So, would I be the asshole if I asked my mom not to invite my sister on vacation with us?

[sourw0lfs]

For the writing prompts:

"What's with the box?" for Steddie 😛❤️

It's the way that this ended up being almost 1800 words because I got a brainworm that just wouldn't quit. Thank you, love!

EDIT: this is now also on AO3

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

A smarter man would have just left things alone, but literally no one has ever accused Eddie Munson of being smart. A smartass maybe, but not smart. Something about never being able to keep his focus on anything that matters, but in Eddie’s most humble opinion, the duct tape covered box sitting in front of him on the coffee table matters. Quite a lot, actually, thank you very much.

Because the thing is, the box on the coffee table has haunted him for the last four years, and he’s about ready to get to the bottom of things. At first, sure, he was willing to leave it alone, to let Steve keep a secret or two from him, but then the box never got opened as it moved with them through two apartments and a house. So it clearly isn’t something that’s getting unpacked any time soon. If ever, really. And it is slowly eating Eddie’s brain, the longer he looks at it without any answers.

He knows that he could just remove the lid and take a peek all on his own, but that seems dishonest because he doesn’t have permission, and there’s no way he’d be able to keep it from Steve the second he walked through the front door. So instead, Eddie’s grand plan is simply sitting on the couch with the box in front of him, waiting for Steve to get home to ask. On some level, he fully expects to not get an answer, considering it’s been four years and it’s never come up before now. But at least he’ll be able to say he tried and maybe that’ll be enough to quell the slowly gnawing on his mind about the contents.

Currently, he’s losing a staring contest with the box, contemplating all of the things it could possibly be, until the sound of the front door closing tears him away again. Or well, he jolts, honestly. Nearly straight off the couch as his gaze whips up to a befuddled Steve standing there, keys still in hand as he takes in the scene in front of him.

There’s already a delicious pink blush rising to his cheeks, and that only serves to make Eddie more curious about the box. Because whatever it is…. Steve is embarrassed by it. And maybe that should be enough to get him to drop it before he even starts, but Eddie’s like a dog with a bone now. It’s too late to back out now.

“Hi Stevie!” he greets with a wide grin, trying to hide just how much he wants to fidget under Steve’s gaze.

“Eds,” Steve’s returned greeting is not nearly so cheerful. If anything, it’s cautious, like Steve thinks Eddie’s already had his peek inside the box.

Eddie lets his eyes trail back down to the silver box for a second before back up again. “I didn’t look,” he promises. “I just… It’s been living in our closet since we moved in together and you never open it and I’m just so fucking curious about what could possibly be inside. It’s literally started popping up in my dreams, trying to figure out what’s with the box, why does Steve never open it, what could he possibly be hiding.”

He’s rambling now and he knows it, but the words just keep coming, trying to placate Steve when he isn’t even visibly upset. Yet. It’s probably yet. As the words sink in, Steve’s face gets impossibly pinker, the blush traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears and down his neck. It’s adorable and Eddie wants to kiss all over it, but he’s a man on a mission right now, so he’s gonna be patient. Even if blushing Steve is one of his favorite Steves.

But even as Steve’s blush travels down into the collar of his shirt, Eddie can already see him giving in. It should probably make him feel bad, because Steve is clearly uncomfortable, but he also trusts that Steve would tell him if he was overstepping. Instead Steve just sighs as he toes off his shoes before crossing the room to sit next to Eddie on the couch. Once he’s within reaching distance, Eddie leans to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says softly as he leans back again. “Not if you really don’t want to.”

“It’s not important.” Steve’s hand is already hovering over the lid though and Eddie waits on the edge of his seat. “It’s just… kind of embarrassing? For me.”

“Do I need to start listing all of the ways I’m embarrassing to help you work up the courage?” Eddie asks, mostly teasing but fully willing to do it if it helps Steve.

Steve shakes his head though, fingers curling under the lid of the box and finally, slowly lifting it to reveal the contents. And for all that Eddie’s been plagued by the box for literal years, seeing the assortment of notebooks inside is a bit anticlimactic. He’d been expecting something illegal at the very least, maybe even something kind of sinister. Not… notebooks. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Without a single thought in his head, Eddie reaches out for one, half expecting Steve to stop him before he can grab, but the top notebook gets lifted out of the box without much fanfare. Eddie gets it settled in his lap just in time for Steve to face plant in one of the throw pillows Robin had insisted the couch needed. The reaction makes Eddie pause, but he hasn’t been told to stop, so he just…

He flips the cover open and is met with a full page of Steve’s hasty, somewhat messy scrawl amidst a mess of crossed through lines. The words at the top of the page have been written over several times to make them bolder and darker than the rest, almost like a title. Then Eddie starts to read.

As he reads over the words Steve has scribbled down, he realizes that the bolded words are a title. And that the words following it down this page and the next and the next, on and on, are… poems.

Eddie’s made it about ten pages in, furrow in his brow getting more and more pronounced as he goes, when Steve finally pulls himself back up, fidgeting in the quiet of the room. His face has moved from pink to red sometimes during his attempt to become one with the pillows. “They’re so bad, I know,” he’s already rushing to say, seeing how many pages Eddie has gone through, is still going through. “You don’t have to tell me. I just…”

He’s cut off by lips pressing themselves to his with a clack of teeth, the thud of the notebook hitting the coffee table next to the box lost somewhere in his noise of surprise. Eddie’s hands wind themselves into Steve’s hair, tugging him closer, just for a moment before Eddie is pulling back again, hands trailing down to rest on either side of Steve’s face.

“They’re not bad, love,” Eddie assures him as he leans to pepper kisses all over Steve’s face. “They’re actually kind of fucking phenomenal.”

It’s then that Steve tries to escape his grip, head shaking in between Eddie’s palms. “No, no, they’re not,” he argues but the words are barely out before he’s being kissed again.

“Stop arguing with me,” Eddie says against his lips with another kiss to follow. “I know good writing. You know I know good writing.”

Because between the two of them Eddie is the one that reads, he’s the one that writes short stories here and there outside of running campaigns. And sure, maybe he’s a little biased because it’s Steve but he likes to think he can make a good call even then. The words do their trick though, and Steve doesn’t argue again. Instead he wiggles free of Eddie’s hold and buries his face in his hands.

Eddie takes it as encouragement to keep reading, all but diving back into the notebook he’d abandoned to make his reassurances. “Are all of these like this?” he asks as he flips to a new page.

“Most of them yeah…” Steve’s voice is small and muffled behind his hands, but he’s peeking out now, watching as Eddie devours page after page. Then slowly, oh so slowly, his hands lower. “I started after all of the….” He waves a hand vaguely but Eddie gets it. “To get the thoughts and feelings out. And then it just sort of became a habit, or like… an escape?”

As Steve explains, Eddie nods, already reaching into the box for a second notebook. “Have you ever thought about publishing them?” Eddie pauses for a second, frowning at the page in front of him with a thoughtful expression. “The more vague ones at least. I don’t think the government would like the ones actually using the proper terms floating around out there.”

The blush on Steve’s face, with had finally been receding, comes back full force as he stares at Eddie with wide eyes. “They’re not that…” he starts but trails off with a shake of his head as Eddie levels him with a stare of his own, raised eyebrow and all. “You really think they’re that good?”

“Definitely. Especially the newer ones.”

Because honestly, I’s easy to tell what part of Steve’s life he was at page by page, at least for Eddie. He flips the page again and chuckles as the hearts drawn in the margins this time before his eyes focus on the words. As he reads, a smile works its way over Eddie’s face, different from the grin he’d been sporting the whole time, softer and more meaningful. When he’s done, the notebook finds itself closed and placed back in the box and Steve finds himself with a lap full of boyfriend.

“I see you got to the poems about you,” Steve chuckles, barely able to get the words out between kisses. “Glad you like them.”

“Love them,” Eddie says against his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too, idiot.”

Eddie hums into the kiss before burrowing his head in Steve’s shoulder to place kisses along his neck. “Your idiot that’s going to bully you into getting published.”

“We’ll talk about it later. When you’re not trying to devour my neck,” Steve compromises, but Eddie takes the win, nipping his agreement against Steve’s skin. They both know he won’t forget. No matter how much Steve tries to distract him.

[jazztag]

An Encounter in the Snow VIII

The Captain paces around his quarters nervously, his hands intertwined behind his back, his eyes glued to the floor. The fireplace burns quietly in the center of the room. Nights have just been getting colder since the start of November.

Suddenly, a knock at the door. Hero doesn’t look up. He just stands in front of the fire as the cadet peeks his head inside the room.

“Sir, I have what you requested.”

The Captain nods and walks straight to him to retrieve an old notebook, punished by the passing of time. It’s dusty and has stains of mud all over its cover.

“Where did you find it?” asks Hero. The soldier scratches his neck.

“Somewhere between the first and third base. Someone might have been dropped. It was between some piles of bodies, buried in the mud. I hope the pages haven't given up,” he adds, signaling the bad state of the book.

The cadet is about to leave, but Hero stops him dead in his tracks.

“Heard you came from occupied land.”

“Sir?” asks the young cadet.

“Could you translate it for me, soldier?”

The young man, who hasn’t been in the field for more than a year, stands straight, eager to help.

“Yes, sir!”

The two men sit at the desk, the soldier in a chair, Hero right by his side standing on his feet. The Captain's arms are crossed on his chest, deep in thought.

“Go on,” tells the soldier, and the boy opens the notebook carefully, as if the thing could disintegrate by just looking at it. His fingers slide the first blank pages, which only have written a couple of numbers.

“1923-08,” reads aloud the soldier.

“I can read dates as well, yes,” mumbles Hero, peeking from behind his shoulder. “Let’s get to the first few pages. Are you familiar with Polareçe?”

“I fled the country when I was only ten, sir. But I should be able to read it, at least.”

The Captain nods, starting to pace towards the window, looking outside at the light rain which pours tonight.

“The first page,” starts the soldier, concentrating on the task, “is a list of imports from August of last year. They are labeled as ‘cattle.’”

“No more than animals to them, then. I see.”

“Indeed, sir. It lists eight subjects, with dates, numbers, and aliases associated with them. It seems the dates are DOBs. It seems all ‘cattle’ were born in 1899, between September and December of that year.”

“Which makes the dog… 24. Huh. So young and already so troubled. Who knows the horrors they live through just to reach that age.”

“I’ve never heard of a weapon who lives past 25, sir. They are eventually used in suicidal missions when their bones and senses start failing. Their life is practically designed to be useful between the ages of 17 and 24. After that, any body collapses from exhaustion.”

“Then we surely stumbled onto a great catch. I’m sure the enemy was planning on getting rid of Weapon this very same year.” Hero imagines the monster with a few hundred grams of explosives attached to his body, running full speed towards their base. “What about the numbers on the list?”

“They might be codes, sir.”

“And the names? The aliases?”

The soldier sits straight and then reads aloud, struggling a bit with the pronunciation:

“Zundr, Açerö, Avirin, Vel·lor, Solkïr, Vicci, Rraptúrr, Iüçe. They all sound male to me.”

Hero thinks about Weapon, sleeping peacefully as he left him in his cell. He can’t imagine which one of the names is his.

“You’re telling me that we probably have seven more weapons running around the battlefield, huh?”

“Probably the enemy has executed them by now, sir.”

“How so?”

The soldier looks up from the notebook, straight at the Captain.

“As I said, sir. They kill them after reaching their 24th year of life. This fall is their expiration of the contract. Here,” and the soldier motions towards some dates written under the list of names.

“Huh,” is the only thing that Hero says. 1923-11. This November. Well, isn’t the dog lucky?

“Anything more in the list? Weapons? Skills? Training completed?”

The soldier shuffles through the next page. “After those, it looks like someone has written down a record for each mission. They have written down… Dates, numbers… The numbers might be of the deaths. There are some observations.”

“When was the last mission?” asks Hero, nervously, as he retrieves the notebook from the soldier's hands, looking at the last page. The date is from this very same September. 116.

“Damn,” he mumbles. The soldier stands by his side, peeking at the scribbles as well.

“Whoever is locked down there, he managed to kill 116 soldiers in a few hours, on September 9th. Be it alone or not, that’s actually… ”

“Macabre,” mumbles the Captain.

Taglist: @whump-blog@bitchaknso @pumpkinsncoffee @scrumpledumple (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Five: "Seasonal Specials" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Christmas Eve has rolled around, and unfortunately for a very pregnant Reader, she is stuck at home with a migraine. Luckily for her, her younger brother doesn't make for too bad of company. — (Now) A slow shift at Brew and Me turns out to be a good night for advice and a call from everyone's favorite nursing student.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 1,900

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, discussions of homophobia, discussions of abuse and allusions to physical abuse, discussions of slut-shaming, Reader is lowkey bad at advice when it comes to these topics LMAO, explicit language, food consumption (Reader drinks hot chocolate), not really a warning but Will is gay and autistic in this series, as always lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this should've been posted way earlier, i am so sorry it wasn't. hope you guys enjoy though!

Originally Written: 12/21/2023 through 12/25/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, December of 1987 ]

Christmas Eve. It was Christmas Eve and you were stuck at home with an excruciating headache.

You supposed it wasn't all bad. After all, staying at home was preferable over the rare occasion that you did leave the house, when everyone would stare you down like some caged animal at the zoo. Unfortunately, the same could be said for your family—no, not your immediate family, who'd helped you more than ever since you'd entered your third and final trimester—whose reactions had ranged from disgusted to sympathetic.

When you'd gone to the family's end-of-summer family reunion, you'd tried your best to hide the tiny bump you were sporting at the time. However, your aunt Judy had taken notice of your particularly round belly, and immediately figured out that it wasn't from one too many hot dogs at the cookout. Ever since then, you'd heard every comment in the book, everything from "whore throwing her life away" to "so sad she thought that was her only option."

So, instead of listening to the endless insults from your distant relatives, you'd prayed for some way out of the gathering. Unfortunately for you, God had a sense of humor, hence the excruciating headache.

The sound of the microwave beeping in the next room over set you off all over again, the noise like a hammer to the head. "Will, can't you tell that thing to shut up?" you groaned, covering your face with the compress he'd made you.

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to help," he joked. You couldn't tell if you wanted to laugh or kill him for his sense of humor. "Here's your hot chocolate."

You sat up ever-so-slightly, taking a small drink of the deep brown liquid. Almost instantly, the warmth of it made you feel a little better. "Thank you." You reached a hand over, ruffling his already messy hair. "By the way, you didn't have to stay home with me."

"And listen to Uncle Howie tell me how we're both going to hell? I'd rather have that headache of yours."

A snicker escaped your lips, knowing exactly what he meant. "Okay, maybe Uncle Howie is a bit too opinionated on the sex lives of sixteen and eighteen year olds, but you don't have to listen to him. I mean, you're missing out on Grandma's fruitcake, which is your favorite part of the holidays."

"After last year, listening to half our cousins tell me I'm fruitier than the cake, I don't think I'll ever eat it again." Will pulled his knees up to his chest, his face overtaken by an expression that looked a lot like longing. "Besides, it's not really worth it to me."

You set your mug aside before placing a hand on his knee. "What do you mean?"

"The way the family talks about you… I thought I was the black sheep of the family. You might as well be a purple sheep."

Your pregnancy hormones must've taken over, because instead of a normal reaction, you found yourself beginning to cry from his words. No, not because of pain from his statement, but rather comfort in knowing that he'd rather miss out on the finer things of life if it meant sticking up for you.

Will, and his lack of social cue skills, stared at you for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, he landed on, "Sorry if I made you more upset. I didn't-"

A small huff of amusement left your mouth as you shook your head. "No, Will," you smiled, reaching up to wipe away your excess tears, "I'm just… I'm really happy to have you."

He flashed you a closed-lip smile, one that felt so genuine and unapologetically Will. "I know you'd do the same for me."

[ Now, December of 1991 ]

"I would, kiddo. I really would."

Aster Bay was a different kind of beautiful at the holidays. Sure, the small college town was normally beautiful, but upon seeing the small-town glow overtake the place, you were sure you hadn't seen anything like it.

Apartments and beach-side condos decked out in Christmas lights, a tree as high as the clouds in the town square, students dressed in Christmas and Hanukkah sweaters, their dogs in matching attire. The town felt like your own personal snow globe, tiny flakes flooding the ground beneath your feet with every step.

The magic of the holidays of course carried over into your favorite little coffee shop, decorations of red and green covering the walls and counters while the smell of peppermint wafted through the air. Unfortunately for you and Max, the one thing your little coffee shop was lacking this Christmas Eve was customers.

Neither of you were really sure why the store was open. Nearly everyone had gone home for the holidays—students, patrons, and other baristas alike—and the store was dead quiet, aside from the soft sound of Sinead O'Conner playing on the overhead speaker. Silent Night is accurate, you thought to yourself.

"So, where's your lover boy at this Christmas Eve?" Max joked, breaking the long-winded silence.

You sighed, secretly longing for the nurse she spoke of. "Apparently they gave him a week off from the hospital so he went home to see his folks." A small wave of loneliness had come over you when Steve had told you about his departure a few days prior, when he stopped by to grab a latte for the road.

"That's nice. At least he's hopefully having a good time, not working on the holidays like some of us," she said lightheartedly. Though, you could've sworn you heard a hint of sadness in her tone.

"Hey, how come you aren't at home with your folks?" The question had been a simple one, but when Max looked up at you, you could tell her answer was about to be anything but simple.

Her arms folded tightly in front of her chest as she looked at you, a sigh falling between her plump lips. "It's… complicated."

You placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "I know we're only coworkers and we aren't really supposed to bring our personal lives to work with us, but you know you can talk to me, right? I'm your friend, plus I'm a mother so I have problem solving skills now."

She huffed in amusement at your last remark. "It's just… I can't really say a lot but my life in California, it's not as good as my life here. And as much as I love my mom, there's just… well, it's just better for me to stay here even as much as I miss her. Besides, it's not like I make enough to fly home and Neil certainly isn't going to pay for my flight."

You could tell from the clear distaste in the way she said Neil that she didn't like to say his name anymore than she had to. Unfortunately, you knew all too well what that was like, and there was a certain name that left a bad taste in your own mouth the same way Neil did for Max.

"I can't give you much advice because my dad was the one that left, but I promise, it does get better," you empathized. "You made the right decision by staying here. I'm proud of you, Max."

She began to fiddle with the sleeve of her flannel, her eyes darting away. "I hate being here though. I can't help my mom from here. There's no telling what he does to her when me and Billy are away."

You knew exactly what she meant by that too. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but that'll change too. Eventually he'll get tired of you and your mom fighting back and he'll leave. That's what my dad did anyway."

"The thing is," she paused, licking her lips, "I'm not sure my mom wants to fight back. It's like she wants to deal with Neil's bullshit. I mean, she divorced my dad over not making enough money and then she married Neil, who is still scraping at the bottom of the barrel to keep the lights on every month. Not to mention, she dated like ten guys in between and broke up with them for way less, but she'll always find a way to justify his actions."

You shrugged your shoulders. "My mom put up with it for seventeen years before she started to truly fight back." A small wave of silence came over the room before you continued, "I'm sorry I don't have much advice. I guess my situation was just a little different than most survivors'. One thing I can tell you though is that I'm proud of you for making the best decision for yourself. I know it's hard to put yourself first sometimes."

Max gave you a crooked smile, finally looking up at you again. "As much as it sucks that we've both been through a bad thing, I'm glad I have you to talk to about it."

"Of course, love. You're like a little sister to me."

Cutting your conversation short, the phone began to ring, the sound grating on your nerves. You loved your job, but it was Christmas Eve, damn it. In all honesty, you really just wanted to be at home, drinking hot chocolate with your girl in your lap and a movie playing on television.

Still, you picked up the phone, answering with the signature, "Happy holidays from Brew and Me. What can we do for you?"

"Can you tell me your seasonal specials?" said a familiar voice, his smirk audible in his tone.

"Steve! You're supposed to be on vacation," you scolded, though internally you were extremely happy to hear his voice. What is wrong with me? you pondered silently.

"I am, but I couldn't resist calling and ordering something."

Your brows furrowed at his statement. "How does that work?"

"Order anything you'd like and I'll pay you back when I get back to town. Think of it as a Christmas present, or whatever you celebrate."

"That feels like cheating, Harrington." Your eyes narrowed, despite his inability to see it.

"You don't have to tell me what it is, just how much I'll owe you," he replied. You could hear a fireplace crackling quietly in the background, and you could easily imagine him curled up in front of it, his skin covered with a thick Christmas sweater, glasses perched on his nose as he read a novel. "Same for Max or whoever else is working. Treat yourselves, courtesy of me."

"Well, thank you, Steve. We appreciate it," your lips curved upward into a smile as you spoke. "I hope you're enjoying your time off."

"I am. I'm sorry you have to work on Christmas Eve." You could almost hear the frown on his lips as he sympathized with you.

"It's not all bad. After all, I'm getting to hear from you."

"Careful, Byers, or I'll start to think you like me back," he smirked. Butterflies went off in your belly, your cheeks warm and surely rosy.

You were sure full sentences had escaped you, considering Steve had the ability to take your breath away and make you blush like no one else could. So, you stuck with what you knew you could say without stumbling over your words. "Happy holidays, Doc."

"It's a very happy holiday when I get to talk to you, Y/N."

So tumblr hates me...

I went over 24 hours thinking this chapter posted, only to find out tumblr ate it somewhere between my drafts, my queue, and my posts 🤦🏻‍♀️ this app loves to embarrass me

Anyway, I hope this was worth the extra long wait. It sucks that I'm posting it after the initial Christmas magic is over but I hope you guys liked it regardless! I will see you back here on Sunday for chapter six, which will be posted on time, fingers crossed!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic

[judasgot-it]

i realy enjoyed your scent headcannons for the port mafia and the hunting dogs. i liked how detailed they were and i can tell you put some thought into it. can i ask what you think the ada members and the decay of angel members smell like?

omg omg yeesssssss these are the best ones.

sorry I love giving weird and specific headcannons to my fav characters so this? right up my alley. I'm that guy. Sorry this took so long btw I've been ill :(

Scent Headcannons (DOA + ADA)

DOA

_____________________________________________________________

Nikolai: This man uses a bar of soap he got from a grandma not too long ago and it's just lasted him forever, probably smells like lavender or chamomile. I love chamomile. His hair though smells like purple shampoo so he can keep his shine. Definitely has that sweaty man smell on him sometimes. You know the one. I bet you that his coat smells like ash and I bet he smokes, even occasionally, so the smell just sticks to his clothes.

Fyodor: He probably only showers once or twice a week so he smells a bit rank, but he never gets super sweaty so it's not that bad. If anything he doesn't smell super gross, but more like dust. Oily dust. He probably smells like caraway seeds, they just seem like a Fyodor thing.

He doesn't use cologne, personal headcannon that he uses a Barbie perfume he got from Nikolai because they thought it was hilarious but it ended up smelling really good so now it's just become his signature scent. No one would believe that the demon fyodor uses it, so it stays an inside joke.

Bram: Limewater. Or the way old wooden buildings smell. Leather is also a good bet. He just carries age and decay on him. Probably smells like what churches at old graveyards smell like.

Sigma: Leather but in a new handbag sort of way. He 100% wears a very nice cologne, although it might have a bit of a granny smell more than a sexy man smell. He smells new and expensive in a way. Kinda smells like copper coins too sometimes but that's only if you're really close to him.

Fukuchi: I think I did him already but to do him again - old. Like, old paper and old clothes. He definitely smells like alcohol and probably has a messy sort of smell on him. He tries to cover it up with cologne sometimes but you can smell his hangovers and the fact that he tries to hide his depression with sweets.

ADA

______________________________________________________________

Dazai: Alcohol and Cologne. It's a complete guess of what you're gonna get. Depends on if it's a weekend or not. Also, he might smell like his recent suicide attempt, which tends to stay on his clothes for the next couple of days - Kunikida has to force him to wash his clothes, since once he tried to drown himself and smelled like river water for over 2 weeks. He isn't super hygienic, he's as bad as Fyodor.

Kunikida: oh this man is CLEAN clean. Power washes his asshole and everything. Showers every morning and night. He uses only gently scented soaps and shampoos, since he cares about PFAs. Uses one specific victoria's secret perfume that was discontinued and now has been ordering it for the last 4 years. He has a specific order in how he sprays it too - two on each side of the neck, and one on the wrists that he spreads. He does this daily.

Ranpo: Sweets. He is a regular at bath and body works and he buys warm vanilla sugar and douses himself in it. It's so strong that you can smell him for miles. He has been given many different scents but he refuses to use anything else, he will only use that one scent. It's a comfort thing for him.

Yosano: Like blood. Nothing washes the smell out, so she started smoking so she won't have to smell it on her anymore. So she just smells like cigarettes and blood. She sprays really strong perfume sprays on her clothes though so she won't have to smell the cigarettes. She doesn't go to bath and body works however, she buys from a vegan all-natural company in case anyone is allergic - She is a doctor, after all.

Fukuzawa: Grass and clean laundry, since he spends a lot of time outside talking to cats and every product he uses he tries to use those that bring him good childhood memories. He keeps his clothes religiously clean too, so he probably smells like good detergent.

Kenji: Dirt and cows. He probably just carries the smell of the farm with him, so he is a stinky kid. Kunikida forces him to wash up more often and makes him do his laundry, but his pet cow just always carries that smell on him.

Atsushi: He probably has that sweaty man smell on him, since I bet he is still adjusting to being a normal person after growing up in the orphanage. Personal headcannon that he hoards food, especially in his pockets and under his bed, so he has a bit of a food smell on him. You can just smell the wet noodles in his pockets that you know he is gonna eat in a couple of hours as if it's normal. He has problems he needs to work out.

Kyouka: Clean. She showers, and she has normal hygiene. You can probably smell the sweets she keeps on her though, and I doubt she uses perfume, but she uses a really a regular deodorant. She's an assassin, so she can't be noticed easily, including smell.

BONUS because he's basically in it

Poe: He smells like Karl, custard, and cologne. He goes days without showering so sometimes he just uses all spice to cover it up. Definitely has a strong smell of aftershave since he has to shave every day, which is hella minty. You won't smell it unless you're close to him though. He also has a strong smell of coffee on him.

[shion-yu]

Day 5: Rogue Organ

I believe this is the oldest I’ve ever written Cliff and Elliot, and it’s a bit different. Not so much a whumpy sickfic as a cozy family story, if that’s not your thing I get it. Featuring Mia: Cliff and Elliot’s 5-year-old daughter. 2,354 words, no TW/CW. @sicktember

The spleen wasn’t a necessary organ to live, Cliff’s doctor said. He pressed on Cliff’s distended abdomen, eliciting a wince of pain. At this point it was causing more problems than there were benefits of keeping it, so they might as well remove it. 

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to sell it?” Cliff asked dryly. He’d been coming to see Dr. Thomas, his immunologist, for over five years now. They’d developed a mutual understanding by now that while Cliff did not like beating around the bush, he also had a dark sense of humor. 

“Believe me, no one would pay much for this spleen of yours,” Dr. Thomas said with an amused smirk. “It’s covered in lesions still, despite your last few courses of steroids.”

Cliff sighed deeply. He didn’t want another surgery, nor did he want to spend time in the hospital. He’d had his lung transplant a bit over two years ago, an event that while traumatic, had been an incredible success in the end. He hadn’t needed oxygen since recovering and while he was still working on his stamina, it was nothing compared to the all-consuming illness of his months in the hospital waiting for a pair of lungs. He’d managed to stay away from being hospitalized since then, an achievement he was very proud of. For the first time in his daughter’s life, he felt like he could be just a dad to her and not her dad that was always needy and never home. 

Now Mia was five and a spitfire at that. She had Moira’s wavy red hair and dainty looks, but could be so headstrong that Cliff couldn’t believe she was raised by him and Elliot. How could someone so curious, loving and intelligent be theirs, he sometimes wondered? And right now, he dreaded telling her that he'd have to be in the hospital again.

Cliff returned from his appointment with a heaviness in his heart, knowing he had bad news. Elliot had already picked Mia up from daycare and he found them in the living room. Mia was coloring independently, their dog Clover at her feet while Elliot sat at the piano testing different notes for what Cliff knew to be his debut solo project. This was Cliff’s little family, he thought fondly as he came upon them. The family he chose and never wanted to leave, even though he’d come terrifyingly close to doing so before he had his transplant. He watched them silently at the doorway for a few seconds before he made himself known with a warm, “I’m home.”

Mia hopped down from her coloring table immediately, rushing over to him and giving him a hug. “Daddy!” She exclaimed happily, Clover standing next to her wagging her tail. Cliff put a hand on each of their heads and smiled.

“Hello my darlings. How was your day?” When Cliff spoke like this it was natural now. But had anyone ever told teenage Cliff that he’d ever have a family he loved more than life itself, whom he spoke to with open affection so confidently, he would have scoffed at the ridiculousness. 

“We did birthdays today,” Mia informed him. “For Addie and Vincent.” Every month the preschool had a joint birthday celebration at snack time for the kids whose birthdays were that month. Cliff had made funfetti cupcakes with strawberry frosting for it last night. 

“That’s so fun,” Cliff said. “Elliot?”

Elliot did not look up from the piano at first. “I’m almost done with this verse,” he said. He was clearly concentrating, but tilted his head anyways for Cliff to kiss his cheek as he did every day. Cliff gave him one, lingering longer than usual and taking in the familiar smell of his husband. “Oh, how was your appointment?”

Cliff didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to say it in front of Mia, yet. “I’ll tell you after dinner,” he said. Elliot immediately looked up then, his brow furrowed in instant confusion. If it had been good, he knew Cliff would have said so right away. He frowned but nodded. 

Dinner felt mostly normal. Mia chattered about preschool and playing outside and petting the neighborhood dogs. Elliot told her to eat her vegetables; Cliff told her she could have ice cream if she ate them all. He was always the softer parent, but he wanted to give Mia all the affection he himself had never gotten as a child. Since the day he’d met her, right after she was born, Cliff looked at her and thought to himself: how could anyone *not* love their child this much?

After dinner, Mia waited on the couch playing with her doll until Cliff brought her with him for his evening walk with Clover. Cliff told her to give him ten minutes, then went to the kitchen where Elliot did the dishes. Cliff rested one hand on Elliot’s shoulder, promoting Elliot to turn the water off. He was already frowning, the lines of concern that were permanently etched into his features creasing. “What happened?” He asked.

“I need it out,” Cliff said quietly. “Too many lesions.” 

Elliot sighed and toweled his wet hands dry. They'd been delaying the inevitable as long as they could, but they had both known this was coming for a while. In the last two months though, the pain in Cliff's abdomen had grown worse and now he was having night sweats and weight loss. 

“Well. We’ll make it through,” Elliot said simply. 

“I want to tell Mia,” Cliff said. “When we go on our walk. I don’t want her to think it’s as serious as when I got my transplant.”

“But it is serious, Cliff,” Elliot said. “It’s a whole organ.”

“An organ that I can live without,” Cliff said. “It’s serious, but it’s not lungs. It’s not gonna be like that again.”

Elliot grimaced but nodded. Mia hadn’t been able to see Cliff for almost a month after his transplant, the doctors not willing to risk exposing him to kid germs. The team had urged them to wait longer, too, but they’d refused. “Do you want to come on our walk with us?” Cliff asked. Elliot nodded again. “Let’s go then.”

They leashed up Clover and Cliff put Mia’s socks and shoes on. She was old enough to do it herself now, but when she wasn’t in front of her friends she loved having her dads do everything for her still. Cliff didn’t mind. He knew she’d only be little once, and they weren’t planning on having another kid. Cliff held the leash in one hand, Mia’s in the other, and they headed downstairs. “Daddy’s joining us today too,” Cliff told her with a smile. Mia grinned happily, looking back to Elliot for confirmation, which she got. 

Outside, the weather was nice. Cliff tried to think of how to tell Mia the news. She was five, yes, but she knew far too much about the hospital and illness already. He didn’t want to scare her, but he also knew she did better when she was as prepared as possible.

“Baby girl? You know how I went to the doctor today?” He started.

“Uh huh,” Mia said, looking up at him with her hazel eyes that matched Cliff’s perfectly. Cliff’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Well, I have to get another surgery. There’s something in my belly called the spleen, and I need to have it taken out. But it’s not as serious as when I got my new lungs. We won’t have to be apart for more than a few days.” Cliff spoke slowly but clearly; they had never been ones for baby talk. They knew that even before Mia could speak, she knew Cliff had special needs. They figured if they let her know everything they could, she would be able to process it better.

Mia didn’t say anything at first, but she let go of Cliff’s hand and took Clover’s leash with a stony expression on her face. Cliff knew Elliot wanted to jump in, but he held up a hand. ‘Give her a minute.’

Finally, Mia spoke. “I don’t have to not see you like before?” 

“Nope. Papa will be very sleepy for a few days afterwards, so just then,” Cliff said. He didn’t go into the what ifs; what if he didn’t wake up from the anesthesia? He refused to entertain that possibility.

“Okay,” Mia said. Her little brow was furrowed in thought, and Cliff hated he was the reason she had to think of such big things at a young age. “Does it hurt?” 

“The surgery?” Cliff asked in surprise. 

“No, your belly. Does it hurt now?”

“A little,” Cliff said. “It’s not so bad. But we should fix it before it gets worse.”

Mia nodded seriously. “I don’t want you to hurt, Papa. So that’s why they should take it out.”

“That’s right,” Cliff said warmly, his heart swelling with emotion. “You’re so smart and caring.” He glanced back at Elliot, who’d stayed quiet through this conversation, and he suddenly thought that maybe Elliot had needed to hear this just as much as Mia had. He could see tears in Elliot’s eyes, and when Cliff smiled at him Elliot wiped them away quickly.

“When’s it come out?” Mia asked.

“Hmm. I think the doctor will tell us soon. But probably this month,” Cliff said. “Is there something special you want to do before then?” Even if the surgery went entirely well, Cliff was pretty sure he'd be down for a while afterwards. 

“I’ll think about it,” Mia said very seriously. Cliff laughed. Their daughter had a fierce memory, and they knew by now not to offer her anything that they didn't intend on following through with. He was sure she'd think of something she really wanted, and Cliff knew he’d give her whatever it was within reason, and slightly beyond it. 

Four weeks and one family trip to San Francisco to visit Moira later - Mia’s favorite place - Cliff went into surgery. Mia was with Elliot’s mom in the apartment and Elliot was by Cliff’s side. All the scary memories from Cliff's transplant hovered in their minds at full force, but they told each other it was going to be so much better this time. And despite all their fears, it was.

Cliff woke up from the anesthesia quickly, the best blessing they could have hoped for. He was confused and in pain, but his vitals were stable and he asked for Elliot until they let his husband into recovery. Elliot stood by his stretcher, immediately holding his hand and brushing Cliff’s face comfortingly. “I’m right here baby. You did so well,” Elliot told him.

“Where’s Mia?” Cliff asked dizzily. Now that he had Elliot accounted for, he needed Mia, too. 

“She’s with mom,” Elliot said. “Everybody’s safe. Just relax.” He told Cliff all of it as many times as he needed to hear it. He’d happily do this as opposed to waiting with bated breath for Cliff to be extubated, as he had too many times before. There has been concerns about putting Cliff under anesthesia and intubating for the first time since his transplant, but he’d done even better than expected. It was all that Elliot could have hoped for.

Mia got to come visit Cliff on his second day post-op. She seemed shy at first, but once she realized that Cliff really was awake and as okay as one could expect after a major procedure - that he was himself and not hooked up to a million things as she’d seen him before - she gave Cliff a hug and excitedly told him about what he'd missed at home over the past few days. Cliff let her sit on the bed with him and talk all afternoon, even though he had trouble keeping his eyes open. It didn't matter, because he had his family safe and sound next to him. 

When visiting hours were over, Elliot took Mia home. “I’ll be coming home in just a few more days,” Cliff told her when she looked reluctant to leave. “Keep being such a good girl and helping Daddy out, okay?” 

“Okay,” she said. Still, she hugged Cliff and didn’t let go until Elliot picked her up and carried her out. 

A few days later, when Cliff was home and still doing better than they ever hoped for, the three of them sat in bed together and Elliot read out loud to Mia from her Disney storybook. She was between the two of them, her little body tucked into a sleeping Cliff’s side as close as she dared to without hurting him. “Daddy?” She interrupted Elliot suddenly. 

Elliot stopped reading. “Yes baby girl?” He asked.

Mia took a long few seconds to get whatever it was she was trying to tell him out. “Is Papa all better now?” 

“He’s doing very well,” Elliot said. “And he’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“I mean all the way better,” Mia said. “Like he’ll never have to go back to the hospital again?” 

“Oh,” Elliot said, his gentle smile faltering. He looked at Cliff, sleeping soundly and Mia in his arms, growing so big and yet still so small. “Papa’s body is always going to be a little different,” he said carefully. “But everybody is different in their own way, it’s not a bad thing. We just have to keep on loving him, and being a family like we always do. That’s what’s important.” 

“Okay,” Mia said. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” 

Elliot hesitated. They were trying to get Mia to sleep in her own bed at night, but he decided just this once wouldn’t hurt. It had been a hard week after all. “Fine, just tonight,” Elliot said. The triumphant grin he got back reassured him that he’d made the right choice. He gave Mia a kiss, then leaned over her to kiss Cliff, too. “Goodnight, my loves,” he said. Then he turned off the light and they slept in bed the three of them, safe and together, just how they liked it.

[3raaaachachacha]

9:31 pm

Sim Jaeyun x female reader / 575 words / fluff

Warnings: none

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

It had been a while since you went on a first date. Though, when you first saw Jake on a dating app, you didn’t think he was too bad on the eyes. Even though you were excited to meet him, you were also very nervous. You hadn’t dated someone in almost 4 years after your break up with your ex of 3 years. You knew it was time, but something inside you scared yourself. 

What if you weren’t good enough? What if he didn’t like you after meeting you? What if he didn’t like you after getting to know you? Did you want to waste your time? Those were the questions that raced through your head as you made your way to the pier for your date.

You were too deep into your thoughts almost not realizing he was standing a few feet away, waving at you with an adorable smile, “Hi Y/N! It’s nice to finally meet you.”

A slight blush reddened your cheeks as you gave him a small smile, feeling shy for once, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Come on, let’s go over by the pier and sit by the lake. I think the fireworks will be starting sometime soon!” He smiled politely towards you as he gestured you to follow him. He wanted to be respectful of your space and see how well you reacted before touching you and turning you off.

You were thankful for his respect and how he treated you carefully at first. The two of you made you way down to the pier, finding a little ledge by the water to sit on. There was light conversation about yourself, your jobs, your likes and dislikes, and lots of laughs in between.

“So you’re a cat person?” Jake questioned, giving you a playful smirked before scooting away, “Huh, I don’t know about this then,” He joked, “I have a very cute dog named Layla who would probably love you.”

“I love dogs too, don’t get me wrong! I’d love to meet Layla sometime. We could take her on a walk or something,” You giggled, already excited to meet his dog and loving how playful his attitude grew, while still being respectful. It was the humor you loved. 

A whistle rang out through the air as a boom followed, signaling the start of the fireworks. The two you grew quiet as you watched the show in awe, commenting once and while on the different fireworks. You suddenly felt something heavy on your hand as you looked down to see Jake’s covering it, only to feel your cheeks heat up.

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, seeing a small hint of pink of his cheeks as your eyes grew wide only to smile to yourself.

You nodded before turning your attention to the show in front of you. It was exactly how your heart felt right now, fireworks of emotions, happiness, excitement. 

“Wow, that was an awesome show! Should we walk around now or would you like me to walk you home?” He wondered as the two of you walked away from the pier.

“Can we walk together longer? I’m not ready for this date to be over yet,” You mentally thought you whispered the last part to yourself only to realize it was out loud. 

Your eyes went wide as you turned to Jake, only to see him chuckle before grabbing your hand in his, “Neither am I.”

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

- Admin 🦋

[blood-darkened-moon]

Isolation

Chapter 1

December 12

What do you actually write in a diary? I guess I just write whatever comes into my mind.

My name is Samantha Blair, and I’ve been stationed at the Aurora Research Facility for about a month now. This place will be my home for roughly the next 11 months. I graduated two years ago with a PhD in chemistry. This is my new job. It wasn’t easy to get it. After all, there are only a few positions available in this facility. There are 12 of us in total, and my job is to analyze ice and soil samples. It’s summer here at the moment. The sun doesn’t set this close to the South Pole any more, and at night it only gets a bit dusky, which, admittedly, bothers me more than I thought it would. Doug* gave me this journal “so I won’t lose track of time.” I wonder if that will help. At least I can try.

*Douglas Garry, station leader

December 13

Nothing interesting. After breakfast, I set about sorting the samples from the last research team and finding out which of them still needed to be analyzed and which didn’t. So the same thing I’ve been doing for over a week now. What were they thinking? “We’ll be gone soon anyway, let the next team take care of it?” After me, the deluge. Typical. Half of the samples are not properly labeled, and even for those that are, it takes forever to find out what has already been done with them. It’s all in the lab books, my ass. I can hardly do anything with the cryptic notes there if I manage to decipher the handwriting at all. On top of that, I have to pick the measurement data out of disorganized piles of paper. It was all planned differently. They were actually supposed to measure their own stuff, but towards the end of their stay, one device after another broke down. The devices are working again. Now, we’re supposed to carry out these measurements first and send them the results.

December 14

Sorting samples, searching for corresponding measurement data. Nothing new. Jeff gave me a new drill core. At least I was able to take a few measurements today.

*Jeffrey Norris, geologist

December 15

As I was going about my usual business, John* arrived and said that we were going to be hit by a heavy snowstorm in the next few days. According to the weather data, the storm will last for several days, maybe even weeks. We have to prepare the station. So we spent the whole day outside moving equipment into storage rooms or fixating it. I’m still freezing.

*John Bennings, meteorologist

December 16

Dark clouds have gathered. After so many days of sunshine, the darkness, if you can call it that, is a welcome change.

December 17

It’s been snowing since last night, and the snowfall is getting heavier, although it will be another 2-3 days before it really starts. David* expressed concerns about the dogs, but Marcus** said they don’t mind the little bit of snow. Quite the opposite. Huskies love this weather. Marcus looks after the dogs. He will know best. When I think about it, it occurs to me that we are probably one of the only stations left that still uses dog sleds. We also have snowmobiles, but Marcus always says the dogs are more reliable.

Later, we decided who should clear the paths and when. The work should continue if possible. However, if the storm gets too bad, the research buildings will remain closed until it subsides.

*David Palmer, technical chief

**Marcus Clark, responsible for the dogs, thermal engineering, welding work

December 18

The howling of the wind gets stronger and stronger. Eerie. I have hardly slept a wink. At least I’m slowly making progress with the samples.

December 19

I spent half the day clearing paths. It is a Sisyphean task. As soon as I was finished, I had to start all over because everything was covered in snow again. And the worst is yet to come. If it goes on like this, I can forget about work for a while.

December 20

Jeff was on clearing duty today. He also said there was no point. After dinner, we agreed that we would only clear the paths to the important buildings, everything else would have to wait until the storm subsided. At least the dogs are having fun. And Lena. She built a giant snowman. Lena Fuchs is still a student and the youngest of our team, and you can tell. When I see her so carefree, I sometimes think I’m getting old...

The fact that Lena is here is not a matter of course. Normally, students are not accepted for research stays. However, Lena has excellent grades, so she was selected regardless of the usual rules. At least, that’s the official reason. For those who believe it. Her father just happens to have a lot of political influence and a ton of money. It would be a true miracle if he hadn’t set the whole thing up.

She’s supposed to help me with the measurements, but that will have to wait until the samples are sorted and the storm calmed down. In the first few weeks, however, I had already shown her how to operate the measurement devices. To pass the time, I’ve now given her a pile of papers to read.

December 21

We have a visitor. The last thing you expect at the South Pole in the middle of a snowstorm is a visitor. Her name is Veronica Edwards. She is British and works at the Umbrella facility nearby. She says she is a senior researcher. There’s been a virus outbreak. She hasn’t said what kind of virus it is, only that it’s not airborne and that the likelihood of her being infected is low. In general, she kept a rather low profile. However, she said that under the circumstances she cannot stay in the Umbrella facility. If she is infected with something, we can’t let her roam around freely, but not helping her is not an option either, so we put her in quarantine. Actually, that was her suggestion. Isaac* has prepared a room in the northeast storage building for the purpose. She waited in the snowmobile she came in. The building is quite large, and it also has a shower room and restrooms. Additionally, the supply in the northeastern storage building is largely separated from the other buildings, and we can lock an area from the outside. That could work. It was supposed to be modified into another research building this summer, but the modification has been postponed for another year or so. However, it has already been largely emptied. She said two weeks of quarantine would be enough. For the time being, only Isaac and Harry** will look after her. Isaac is our doctor. Harry has volunteered. They will stay away from the rest of us to minimize the risk of a virus outbreak during that time. In case of an emergency, they have walkie-talkies.

We have offered to contact Umbrella and tell them what happened, but Dr. Edwards said she had done that before she left the Umbrella facility. They’ll send people as soon as the storm subsides. If they’re taking so long, that must mean it’s not that bad, right? Or that it’s already too late, and there’s nothing they can do anyway. Shit. We’re not prepared for incidents like this.

* Dr. Isaac Copper physician, and by necessity veterinarian

** Harold Childs vehicle mechanic

December 21 Addendum I

I have to distract myself from the thought that the woman might have infected us all with some deadly virus. And I forgot to write that our new arrival is rather strange. She was at least wearing a jacket, but underneath, she had only put on a long purple dress, high-heeled shoes, and white velvet gloves. The clothes looked anything but cheap. She looked more like she wanted to go to a gala than work in a research laboratory. Who walks around like that in Antarctica? Well, maybe she wasn’t on duty when the outbreak happened. That would also explain why she managed to escape and, according to her own statement, is probably not infected. But even as casual wear, her outfit looks pretty bizarre in a place like this.

She had to wait quite a long time in the snowmobile until the provisional quarantine was ready. Wasn’t she cold in her thin clothes? She didn’t complain. And I couldn’t see any signs that she was freezing either. Admittedly, I kept a safe distance. Speaking of snowmobiles, judging by the tracks, she was driving as if she was drunk and almost crashed into one of the buildings. Can she just not drive, or are these signs that she’s not feeling well? A fever, perhaps?

Also, I remembered Doug mentioning in the first or second week that Umbrella isn’t even doing research at the facility anymore. It’s supposed to be a materials storage facility or something like that. Well, Dr. Edwards claims she is a researcher there. I’ll ask Doug about the facility again when I get a chance.

December 21 Addendum II

Nicole*** wanted to contact AAD and ask how we should proceed with Dr. Edwards. However, due to the storm, there is currently no way through with our communication system. Always at the best possible time, of course! At least it’s not broken. Nicole has checked it. In a few days, the storm should ease a little, although not stop. She’ll try again then. Until then, we’re on our own. As old as the communication system is, I’m not surprised that it doesn’t work currently. It probably dates back to when the station was founded in the 70s.

***Nicole Windows, telecommunications, electronics, computers

AAD = Australian Antarctic Division

Next→

[mekachu04]

Read on A03 or below the cut.

At 13, it was quickly becoming clear that Kidd Eustass was going to live up to that wild 'firey' stereotype that seemed to haunt all red-heads. To begin with, at that age most boys growing up tucked away in the county's back country run wild, hellions by their own rights. Freshly turned teens running amok as they start to try and define themselves as their own people for the first time - testing the rules and how far they can push the limits. Shooting road signs, vandalizing old derelict barns, joyriding tractors on the paved roads. Harassing the big bosses' herds, messing with the tourists at the dude ranch, terrorizing the local dogs in the middle of the night. Get a few of them running together, and stuff starts to get stolen or broken or blown up.... and then there's the wild parties in the national forest. Every kid goes though it, and Captain Smoker's biggest headache is when to look away as part of teenage growing pains, and when to start cracking down before someone gets hurt. Kidd Eustass was quickly running down the docket - ticking off each offense like it was his personal to-do list and he wanted to be the first to do them all before he even hit high school.

Smoker had warned Brichtrede Eustass that Kidd was spending too much time with the older boys and needed friends his own age. They were a bad influence on him - the local degenerates. Two of them already dropped out of high school, and Smoker didn't have high hopes that Killer was going anywhere with his life either. Too much weed, too much rock music, too much leather and chains and piercings. Too city. Too.... different. Weird. Too.. close. Heat & Wire were attached at the hip these days, never one without the other. And since Victoria left, Killer was never far behind the two. Kidd had admitted to her that Killer wasn't on the bus home most days and he didn't think he was going to classes much anymore.

Most recently, the boys had the brilliant idea of using a homemade potato gun made out of soup cans to shoot down a wasp nest in Heat's back yard, leading to Killer bringing her boy home covered in stings. Killer had not fared much better, and she'd ordered the two boys inside to wash before covering the both of them in calamine lotion. She'd tried not to smile as the two talked over were they'd gone wrong, and how to built a better potato gun next time - like that had been the problem and not the fact they were using it on a venomous flying insect that lived in a hive of hundreds of other venomous flying insects.

Brichtrede had to put her foot down last year with the boys, Killer specifically. She'd known Wire, Heat & Killer longer than her own current husband by this point, and the boys had been there for Kidd nearly his whole life in ways she couldn't. Despite the age gap between them, Killer had become her son's best friend before Kidd could even read. Last year's debacle had shown her while Killer could be trusted to make sure the any trouble her son got involved in didn't end up on his permanent record, he didn't however understand how serious the danger he and the others had put themselves and her son in was to begin with. There was teenage shenanigans, and then there was behavior that would get someone killed.

She would prefer some parental supervision when the boys got into anything involving fire, but she would take it any day over the night she'd picked Killer up from the Sheriff's office after he'd been caught drinking in the park; with the intention of driving her son home afterward. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that it was his one free pass and he would not be getting another one. Killer had make a clear effort after that to be better behaved with Kidd around. He was still a wild child - his father completely checked out as a parent over a decade ago, and now seem to exist as a task assigner and little more - but she knew there was a boy in there just trying his best with no idea how to do that.

Honestly, between the four of them, Killer probably was the only one with any impulse control, and even then it only seemed to pop up when Kidd was involved. And in turn, her son knew just what buttons to push to override that when he wanted to. Thankfully, he was still young enough Brichtrede wasn't too worried just yet.

She was watching them tinker under the hood of Killer's truck, mulling that over. Kidd seemed to be ready to crawl right in while Killer was either content to watch or was actively egging him on; she wasn't sure from here.

"Babe?" She called to her husband from where she watched from his workshop window. He was tinkering himself, and came over to peek out and watch the two boys.

"What is he up too?" her husband muttered, trying to see what Kidd was messing with.

"Please go make sure whatever 'adjustments' our son is making doesn't get our boys blown up later, hmm?"

[getvalentined]

Not trying to be a bother here, but I was wondering a few things about your post on the FS crew.

Do we know for certain Glenn only started gambling when his grandma went to the hospital? There's a line in the game that to me implied that it was a habit he actually learned from her.

Where was the info that Lucia trained him? Been trying to find that since last night honestly but maybe I'm just blind lmao. I know that they were cadets at the same time but I want to know if its true she trained him somehow.

Where did we learn they weren't actually friends? Glenn mentioned being able to acquire them because of the rumor of interpersonal relationships being prioritized and Matt mentioning that camaraderie is important for the mission implying at they all at least trust and are somewhat friends with each other.

What part was posturing? I didn't pick up on any of that honestly. Nor do I see why a trio that has known each other for roughly 4 years would need to do so (Original FS trailers show them meeting in 1998). But I could have easily missed things honestly.

Did they have something to do with Sephiroth being called in?? I don't remember them sending out the distress signal. I thought that was a call Shinra made all on its own since he had new mission orders.

Sorry I'm not trying to be a pain I just genuinely feel like I might've missed those somewhere or that I was bad at picking up any hints the game might've dropped. I can be pretty rough with missing that info and haven't found anyone else that's talked about them with this much detail yet.

I mean, my biggest issues with these characters are still the acceptance of genocide, suggested child murder, and excitedly declared intention to kill a dog, but I'll break the rest of it down because a lot of it is probably pretty easy to miss if you're not already feeling critical of the cast. (Hopefully those issues get called out somehow eventually, but they haven't yet, so I'd have a bad taste in my mouth over the characters just from that.)

Putting the explanation under the cut!

This isn't stated directly, because very little of this is—but Glenn's grandmother is already in the hospital, so apparently there was no hesitation to put her in there, and any initial costs were apparently covered. There's no mention of paying other bills for rent or anything else, so those were paid prior to her being hospitalized, but Glenn confirms that it's the gambling that used up any money he might have had. This isn't solid, but the timeline seemed pretty suspicious. (Glenn has a problem and needs to talk to someone about it.)

Glenn calls Lucia senpai! Further, I think Lucia is confirmed to have been team lead previously in EC? Either way, in the original battle royale she was the commanding officer, and is the one that handled training in the game's tutorial. She trained a lot of people, not just Glenn and Matt! (If you played the battle royale, she trained you too!)

I don't think they hate each other, but they're not really friends. We can go all the way back to the opening cutscene where Glenn threatens Matt with actual violence, and Matt's response is basically "Bet?" Add on Glenn using a nickname Matt hates over and over, and Matt stating repeatedly that he goes along with Glenn because he knows he has good intuition—not because he actually likes being around him or because he trusts him otherwise. This isn't a remotely friendly dynamic. When Glenn explains why he picked them for the mission, Lucia's response is to express frustration that Shinra now thinks she's his friend. Matt also expresses some confusion. Glenn says that he trusts them because they were in training together. When Sephiroth takes command, Matt and Lucia are 100% on board with cockblocking Glenn and straight up just ignore him when he talks shit, if not tell him to stop it altogether. They're friendly acquaintances, but they're clearly not as close as Glenn keeps implying.

Matt subtly suggested Glenn straight up kill Rosen immediately after meeting him. Lucia and Glenn both refer to Rhadorans as monsters. And yet (and yet!) when they come upon Sephiroth's massacre, they immediately start questioning his methods, Matt starts coming up with some excuse to have left them alive—this is a stark contrast to how they've behaved up until this point, a moment when everyone drops the bullshit and admits that this is wrong and they know it's wrong and they're just trying to be too cool to care, but they do care. This is the definition of posturing.

I didn't say they called Sephiroth in? What I said was reiterating Sephiroth's tirade/breakdown, when he explains that the way they operate is the reason that SOLDIERs like him have to exist in the first place. Because operatives like them posture and pretend, operatives like Sephiroth have to do the actual dirty work. Because the adults can't do what they're supposed to (see again: Sephiroth's breakdown) Sephiroth has to be the one to do the war crimes.

Hope this clears things up! I want to reiterate that in spite of all this, I do have hope for this cast and I am genuinely enjoying the story at this point. The first three chapters were a garbage experience, but I honestly loved the narrative and gameplay shift in Chapters 4 and 5.

[hekateinhell]

♡ + Armand/Lestat

I didn't realize you'd reblogged this meme and now you gotta feed me in return 😾 (and if someone else has asked for them in VC then I wanna know about them in your high school au)

babe you get my entire kitchen, apartment, whatever you want 🥹 LOL you already know the whole arc I have planned for them in the sequel but I'll stay in context of where we saw them last on ao3 -- their mutual boyfriend's name freshly tattooed on both their asses and Armand struggling to admit to Lestat that he loves him as well, before Lestat (for once), did the hard part for him.

• Who is the most affectionate?

Lestat.

Armand is incredibly insecure about just how much he's 'allowed' to touch him in public and in private so he doesn't readily initiate -- he doesn't want to rock the boat now that Louis's other boyfriend seems to have finally accepted him (he doesn't entirely trust Lestat's drunken and endorphin-fueled love confession).

Lestat's trying to navigate the awkward 'undefined' stage as well, but in the meantime, he'd like everyone else to know in no uncertain terms that this one also belongs to him. He's living his dream with one arm around Louis's waist and the other draped over Armand's neck. Everyone knows Lestat and Louis have been an on/off item, everyone knows Armand and Louis have also been an item for a while now, Lestat would like the world to know that he and Armand are also... something.

He just doesn't know what yet but if he could mark Armand like a dog in public, he would. It means the world to him that Armand never gave him back his leather jacket after that night and wears it to school every day even though it's much too baggy on him and reaches precisely down to his thighs. To Lestat's eighteen-year-old brain, they're practically engaged as long as Armand holds on to that jacket.

• Who initiates the handholding?

See above.

Poor Lestat has to instigate literally everything right now. Oh no, it's not going to cause any problems down the line, why would it? 😔

• Who worries more for the other?

Armand worries about Lestat living on his own since his mother bailed and left him alone with an empty house. Lestat doesn't... do well alone. He'll invite anyone over to hang out and party if Armand and Louis just can't be there; bad things happen.

• Who is more likely to ask for help?

Directly? Neither of them. But Lestat's much more prone to purposely and consciously acting out in the hope someone will notice and help him. Armand will just pretend Bad Things Aren't Happening.

• Who is the one always losing the keys?

Lestat loses everything that isn't physically attached to his person. Sometimes he forgets where he parked his car and that's his baby.

• Who leaves little love notes for the other?

They're in the same grade (even though Lestat's older, Armand skipped a year and Lestat got held back a year) so Armand and Louis typically share their notes with Lestat who has a terrible fucking time focusing during class (it's the ADHD and dyslexia). He'd much rather and much more easily fill a notebook with lyrics and random doodles for his dream album covers.

When Armand knows Lestat will actually be reading over his notes later (only under threat of a quiz or an exam -- he would like to graduate this year, thank you very much), he works in little quotes from his favorite love poems or songs.

He hopes Lestat knows it's intentional that Armand penned out the entire [love is more thicker than forget] in the margins, that Armand was thinking of him when he wrote it and not just scribbling because he's bored. Don't judge him; we all went through our E.E. Cummings phase.

• Who can't sleep unless the other is there?

Armand is an anxious sleeper and his home life in foster care isn't... great, so he spends at least half of his day at school catching up on sleep. He gets his best sleep in the library on someone's lap; out on the field using Lestat's stomach as a pillow while they lay out on the grass away from everyone else; in the backseat of Lestat's car with Louis's crumpled-up sweater as a pillow and Lestat's jacket as a blanket.

Armand would never sleep in front of other people, but on a mostly subconscious level, he feels safest just knowing Lestat's around -- a 6ft, 175-pound German Shepard that for some reason is personally interested in him right now.

(Though I have to say, Lestat loves when Armand can sleep over at his house, for many reasons aside from the obvious.)

• Who is more likely to propose to the other?

Considering how Armand drunkenly and brazenly asked Lestat to fuck him before they've ever done it, I'm going to say Armand. Whoops...

Let's hope when Armand proposes it goes better than the 'fuck me' conversation did.

• Who introduced the other to their family first?

Neither of their family is in the picture at the moment, so we're going to thrust this onto Louis.

Technically, Lestat and Armand knew of each other and had seen each other around the school before, but the day Louis formally introduced them to each other as his boyfriends was interesting -- in fact, it went something like...

Armand: [spit, hissss] 😾😾😾

Lestat: the fuck.

• Who is more likely to play with the other's hair?

Lestat loves playing with Armand's hair while Armand's napping. He has a shit ton of nervous energy that needs an outlet and he always has to have his hands busy with something, plus he'll make up literally any and every excuse to touch Armand.

• Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

Lestat knows about Armand's home life and that he can't always afford to buy lunch at school, so he usually grabs him something from the deli when he goes for himself. He buys something for Louis too so Armand doesn't feel awkward and singled out; it makes Lestat feel good to be in any sort of big manly provider role and it doesn't hurt that Armand flutters his lashes at him and playfully licks his lips as he whispers 'thank you.'

• Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

Lestat has a much more reactive and implosive temper, so it would probably be him if someone even so much as looked at Armand the wrong way.

He's lost plenty of sleep trying to find out what exactly Armand meant by the virginity comment (they're not in the place yet where he can outright ask and he doesn't want to bring it up to Louis in case Armand hasn't and it'll become A Thing). But he fantasizes about getting to the bottom of it one day so he can figure out who to kill.

Most people leave Lestat alone because he's generally pretty popular and well-liked (and also an older senior who's had his share of fights), but if Armand ever overhears some snarky asshole insulting Lestat's intelligence because he's repeating a grade, he will cut them down to size with the most bitingly vicious words in the calmest possible tone. He might even smile as he does it, just to be extra creepy.

• Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

Armand did spring the tattoos thing on Lestat, so I'd have to say Armand.

People expect Lestat to be capricious; Armand not so much, so it's extra surprising. But he loves to plan little 'not quite dates' and excursions that often rely on the premise of 'just trust me, Lestat! 🥺'

• Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

Armand makes Lestat pinky promise that he's not going do anything reckless like drink and drive if he's going to a house party Armand and Louis can't attend. It's not that Lestat means to be reckless, he just thinks he's invincible.

Lestat's pinky promise requests are much more innocuous, usually after they've made up following a petty adolescent squabble: 'Promise you're not still mad at me? Swear on it.'

• Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

Lestat covers Armand up when he's fallen asleep at school, Armand covers Lestat when he falls asleep on his couch or in his bed. Usually Lestat's on top of him already, between his legs and resting his head on his chest, and so it takes a bit of gymnastics practice to maneuver a blanket over them both. It's worth it for some of the best sleep either of them will get anytime soon. 💖

[popculturebuffet]

School House Rock: America Rock 4th of July Special! (Comission for WeirdKev27)

Happy LOUD EXPLOSIONS OUTSIDE MY GODDAMN WINDOW WHILE I'M TRYING TO WRITE THIS day everyone. I almost missed doing an indepdence day specail as in the chaos of my move, reorganizing the schedule, having to play catchup, I plum forgot. Thankfully Kev came in the clutch with something easy I could do and thus this special. Schoolhouse Rock is something I saw once or twice as a kid but was a few generations before mine. It came out of a very wholesome source: add exec David McCall noticed his son, while able to learn song lyrics easy, wasn't great with remembering his multiplication tables. So he awesomely wrote a song, hired a musicain to perform it and if he wasn't already father of the year had someone animated. This caught the attention of Radford Stone, a real person I assure you and an exec at ABC who urged him to pitch it and since micheal eisner liked it enough not to kali ma his heart out, the series got greelit as some educational shorts between programs, a way to edcuate kids in a fun way and one of the earliest edutainment breakthroughs i'm aware of. And that's.. really what these are. Simple little animated shorts with awesome music to edcuate you, with this batch having been on vhs and dvd as a collection. Simple premise, great execution, so let's rock under the cut shall we?

No More Kings: This one is about the colonization of america. Which naturally glosses HEAVILY over the meeting with and eventual subjication of the indigenous persons of this country . So here's wendsday adams to give us the real scoop

Otherwise it's a well done short and I just love their pissy little king george who uses a telescope to spy on america and shake his fist. He's the second greatest king george in history. You likely know the first...

The real question is why HAVEN'T I covered hamilton?

Fireworks Do you ever feel like a plastic bag? because I do. All day every day. Anyways, obvious jokes inside this one is also fire, not only for the stunning visuals of the fireworks, especially ont he budget of a paper clip and a piece of string, but just for the groovy beat for this one. It might be my faviorite of this batch. Aside from the creepy guy chasing a woman around.

The Shot Heard Round the World: .. after I typed that header ANOTHER firework went off in my neighborhood. and then about 4 or 5 as I typed this.. and another.. and another... okay it stopped ... wait no.. okay NOW it stopped. What was I on about? Oh yeah.. this one. It's not bad, but it's not really anything specail. I do however like the house art style for the characters, having most characters in black and white unless they needed to portray another race. THe only thing of not eit really does is feature THE PRIDE OF MOUNT VERNON, GEORGGGEEE WASHINNGTOONNNN!

Preamble It sounds pretty and features John Adams, who sat this one out that FAT MOTHER FU

Elbow Room This is a fun one about the lousiana purchase. Again this being america i'm PRETTY sure there was likely just a touch of genocide underneath this expansion, but it's still a jaunty enough toon.

The Great American Melting Pot Now this one is well meaning, being about how immigration is a good thing , using the old melting pot metaphor. Given how horrendous things have gotten with immigration lately, it's a message that needs to be heard. That said they PROBABLY could've picked a better metaphor than "putting a ton of children inside a giant literal soup pot for a giant lady liberty"

I mean like I said it MEANS well, I just didn't know the statue of liberty fed on the blood of children. My theory was: the statue of liberty likes dog food.

Mother Neciscity

Sufferin Till Suffrage After the nice nap given to me by that last one, we can get into a REALLY FUN one following the embodiment of suffrage as she celebrates how women have the right to vote.. and points out how horribly recent it was gained. It was only 55 years ago when this short aired and it 'll be 103 in august. It's a groovy bit of music about how old assholish men opressed women and how it took decades and decades of struggle for women to get the right to vote. I also like it a lot because unlike a LOT of these , it dosen't sugarcoat things: men opressed women and this was them fighting back for what they always shoudl've had. Simple and awesome, like the best of these.

I'm Just a Bill

Here we are, the GOAT of Schoolhouse Rock, the most iconic one of them. And naturally the one that's been the most parodied with both simpsons

Which, fun fact, I saw way more as a kid than the original. It also makes me laugh way more as an adult because I get it fully. Family guy also took a nice stab at it though instead of doing a full parody they just made a really hilarious joke

It also looks like they got the actual voice of bill to do both of these. What a champ.

I also had the rude awakening right wing doucher Steven Crowder thought doing a parody of it against trans rights was a good idea.

The original though his solid and still works. It's stuck, with me knowing how bills work primarily BECAUSE of this song, and the vocal performance is fucking dynamite. It's a work that really stands the test of time , from the image of bill sadly sittnig onc aptial hill to the jubilant ending of him becoming a law. It's really great stuff and easy to see why it endured enough to get tons of parodies and is clearly still shown in school enough for people to STILL recognize it decades later.

Three Ring Government: This one is about how a goverment is like a circus. Granted I would've had congress and the house both as clown cars full of people who either put party bias over personal intrests or are a giant pack of ghouls who care nothing but for their own power. What i'm saying is while this works perfectly for the intended demo for a jaded old man like me it's pretty fucking depressing, especially since 2/3 of these branches aren't in the best shape right now. It''s not bad on it's own merits, it's just hard to watch and not wince wat what the right is doing to it right now or have done to women, people of color and the country in general.

These are a great batch of shorts though. Maybe one day we'll return to school but for now we say good bye to this and hello to MORE EXPOSIONS. THE EXPLOSIONS NEVER END THE EXPLOSIONS NEVER

And thanks for reading