#jeff reheated

[officialcreepypastareheated]

Decided to draw a lil Jeff amongst the trees for Friday the 13th! :3

This won't be the last time you see him this month though, hopefully.

[chemerr2]

eyeless jack headcannons :O can be sfw or nsfw <3

thank you anon I NEED THIS MAN. i need all 4 of his legs in front of my face. -SEXYPAPINOQUE

SFW !!

ik this is probably one of the most popular headcanons but he’s warm. He’s THE heated blanket everyone needs during the middle of winter. He’s usually warmer in places people wouldn’t normally touch or go near. Like his armpits for instance but that’s ok cause he’s comfortable with you being THAT close to him and on top of that he’s not musty!! yay!

best head massages known to man. those longs nails of his make you foam at the mouth when he slides them through your hair, on your scalp and the back of your neck.

very clean. like VERY. he cannot stand having a cluttered space especially when it’s his work area we’re talking about. he doesn’t go batshit crazy tho if his room has like 2 socks on the floor 💀 just doesn’t like to be surrounded by complete filth. Even tho he can’t work well in small spaces given his physical appearance and amount of equipment— he reminds himself to clean as he goes.

responsible but only for himself and you ofc. His reasoning for this is because he’s grown, toby is grown and so is jeff plus the others so he shouldn’t have to tell a 23 yr old to clean up after himself or wipe the toilet after he pisses cause he didn’t aim in the toilet.

always pampers you and chooses you over anyone else. sometimes he end up favoring your priorities over his own and forgets to do important things for himself. You wouldn’t even have to tell him because he’ll snap back to reality once he realizes he hasn’t done a chore or task he told himself he’d do.

like the cool older brother or the older brothers cool friend who takes you to the store and buy things for your mom when she’s cooking dinner

speaking of cooking, he can’t make anything past a traditional american breakfast dish (eggs, bacon, toast, grits or rice) other than that he’ll warm up a corn dog or reheatable pancakes in the microwave

if he has tomatoes on his burger snd he knows u like tomatoes he’ll give them to you. He’d give you a whole jar of pickles and drink the pickle juice (vice versa if u love pickle juice as much as me)

he stands in front of the tv likes he’s made of glass💀

DRAGS you by your arm, shirt, or ear if he even slightly thinks ur gonna get into an argument with anyone, For the sake of you and himself because 1. doesn’t want u to fight anyone AND 2. don’t want you to get ur feelings hurt. yep

NSFW !!

rmbr when i said i need all 4 of his legs? 🤭 yeah he’s got 2 FATASS DANGLING COCKS.

ok let’s keep it realistic, he’s inexperienced but he’s not a vulnerable virgin, he knows what boojaina is, he knows what ur cervix is— he knows all of it and how much the female body can take.

his dick is wide so 1 inch of his demomic- hybrid 8inch cock takes up the full capacity of ur hole ifykwim.

it looks like he’s always had a boner but it’s just his thick and heavy cocks finally getting a good nights rest when you aren’t around.

Loves when you trace the veins on his cock and kiss his ugly circumcised scar on both his cocks. See i can get all into detail about the scar but y’all probably would get turned off. ANYWAYS

humps you. dry. all night, every night. Your smaller than him, even if someone says your big— to HIM your a delicate feather in his hand and he tosses you like a salad gently. He proceeds w caution when he gives you the nasties backshots

idc idcccc ur butt may not be big but when he gives u backshots it sounds like poseidons trident causing hell on sea.

horny dog?? nah horny bear. He literally locks you both up in his room or office and breeds you heavily like he’s trying to form a football team.

[ladykailitha]

Staking My Claim Part 6

And here we are! The end of this sweet little story. I had a blast writing it and I enjoyed all the comments and tags. Thank you so much.

We get to the "is this set after canon or a no monster AU *shrugs* could be either" part of the story.

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3| Part 4|Part 5

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

When he woke up next it was dark out and his stomach was growling. As he sat up he could smell the warm heat of something cooking in the kitchen. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He knew he should brush his teeth and he vaguely remembered Eddie saying something about a spare around here somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where. And he really, really didn’t want to go rummaging through the drawers.

He gave up and decided to do it after dinner and have Eddie show him where it was.

He ran his fingers through his hair to tame the tousled look to something more respectable. He really didn’t think it worked. He had slept with it wet and it would take getting it wet and washed before he could properly tame it.

Jeff grinned at him when he came stumbling out. “Just in time, man. Eddie’s making his famous spaghetti.”

“It smells heavenly,” he murmured.

“Just wait ‘til you taste it, Stevie,” Eddie said with a wide, happy smile. “It’ll blow your mind.”

Steve blushed. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat, I could have reheated leftovers or something.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a grin.

“This is when we usually eat,” Jeff explained. “We were working on a song for our band earlier.”

“I’m our lyricist,” Eddie said. “Jeff is the composer. He takes my silly little words and turns them into songs.”

Steve nodded. “And you guys play at Cora’s Den?”

“The Hideout and Alleyways, too,” Jeff confirmed. “But yeah, Cora’s Den is our main spot though, which is why Mrs. Hughes pays for this apartment for us to stay at when we’re here.”

“I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that Gareth’s parents are rich enough to afford a three bedroom apartment in the middle of Indy for you guys to crash at whenever you want,” Steve admitted. “My parents would never do that.”

Eddie shrugged. “We knew Gareth’s family had money when he first started playing with us. No poor schmuck living in Forest Hills was going to buy their ten year old a drum kit and remain sane.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “We just didn’t know how much until he offered his parent’s garage to practice in. That place has better acoustics then most bars we’ve played in.”

“Just what do his parents do?” Steve asked in awe.

“They run those fancy boutiques for pets,” Eddie said. “They have five shops around the country. Here in Indy, Chicago, New York, LA...and what’s the other one?”

“Miami,” Jeff said.

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s it! They charge hundreds of dollars for rich morons to make their pets as pampered as possible.”

“That explains more than it doesn’t,” Steve sneered. “My parents hate animals. The thought of a pet treated better than they treat their own son would have driven them crazy.”

“Not even a goldfish in the Harrington household?” Jeff asked, cocking his head to the side.

Steve laughed bitterly. “And have the water spill on the perfect hardwood floors? Not likely.”

“Even I had a hamster at one point,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You are seriously missing out.”

“I’m hoping when I get a place of my own I’ll be able to get a cat,” he confessed.

“Aww...” Eddie said. “What kind?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably a rescue.”

Jeff and Eddie smiled softly.

“Sounds good, Steve,” Jeff murmured.

“Food is done!” Eddie said with a flourish. “Spaghetti in meat sauce.” He blinked for a moment. “You’re not vegetarian are you?”

Steve laughed. “No. You probably missed me tucking into the bacon and sausage for breakfast.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Oh right.”

He dished out the food on three plates and handed one to each of Jeff and Steve before grabbing his own plate and sitting on the other side of Steve.

They tucked into their meals and ate quietly. A testament to how good it tasted.

For Steve, it was warm and hearty, filling a void he didn’t know he had. Even when he was in high school, he didn’t have a lot of guy friends and while he loved the Party with all his heart, it wasn’t the same as hanging out with people his age.

Once they were done, Jeff did dishes. Eddie led him over to their large fluffy sofa.

Steve settled in, curled up to Eddie’s side as he talked with Jeff about the new song.

It had been so long since he felt this safe. Like if he drifted off to sleep right now, he would be protected.

And wasn’t that just something.

Eddie’s voice broke through his revery. “Hey, sweetheart. I think you’re falling asleep again.”

“Being drugged sucks.”

Jeff laughed. “It sounds like you’ve been drugged more than once, man.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other, then Steve winced.

“I may have angered a couple of Russian officers when I accidentally stumbled on their very illegal operation under the Starcourt Mall?” he said through gritted teeth.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Considering how messed up Hawkins is, nothing surprises me anymore.”

Eddie and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“You’ve got that right,” Eddie said. “Come on, darlin’, let’s get you to bed.”

They got ready for bed and Steve finally got that toothbrush to brush his teeth. He washed his face and Eddie led him back to his bedroom.

Once Steve had gotten comfortable, he pulled Eddie to him before he could protest.

“You’re mine now,” Steve murmured happily. “I licked you. Remember?”

Eddie chuckled. “I guess finder’s keepers. I’ll happily be yours.”

They curled up on the bed and slept soundly knowing that they were heading back to Hawkins with more then the hookup they assumed it was going to be when Eddie first came to his aid.

And Steve couldn’t have been happier.

He was going to have to do something really nice for Robin as a thank you.

As he was falling to sleep, he felt Eddie lick the side of his face. He giggled and pressed their lips together. Eddie hummed happily.

“Love you, Stevie.”

“Love you, too, Eds.”

***

And if you saw this on Saturday, no you didn't. I hit post instead of schedule and it was not meant for human eyes yet.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @hellfireone @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @f0xxyb0xxes @jamieweasley13 @r0binscript @confuseddisastertm @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @dissociatingdemon @dragonmama76

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part Nine

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Not a lot of talking actually takes place. Mostly Steve and Robin cry at each other while Eddie, and presumably Dustin, take turns holding down the button to talk. They don't even say full words half the time, yet still manage to have an entire conversation. (Eddie thought that was a trick that only worked face to face but apparently the telepathy transcends distances).

Eddie has so many questions but he can wait; he doesn't want to interrupt Steve and Robin. Of all the people who should get Steve's time now that he's back, Eddie's certain he falls at the bottom of that list. He's just as certain Dustin and Robin are tied for top, so it's good that Robin was here, anyway.

Steve does take the time to talk them out of going to the Hendersons' house immediately. Claudia is not in the know and they can't really justify the midnight visit otherwise. Steve's shown up and slept in the guest room on occasion, unannounced, so him being there isn't going to be questioned.

The talk ends with a promise from Steve, to let them know when he was home and they could go over.

Robin falls asleep crying on his chest. Eddie doesn't get much sleep.

Steve's back. He's no longer a doll. A full explanation was promised before the walkie's were put down for the night, but he needs to know what happened. Steve had wanted to talk to him and he's a little bit afraid of that. Steve heard him and Jeff, was made aware of his stupid, gay crush, and now- Steve's going to want nothing to do with him. He's going to let him down gently, but firmly, and probably slowly vanish from Eddie's life.

Morning comes slowly and with it, the realization he's not ready to face Steve. He does need to talk to Jeff as soon as he can, though. He pulls himself from bed and gets coffee going almost as soon as the sky starts to lighten. He nurses one cup for so long it goes cold on him three and he has to reheat it in the microwave. Robin joins him at the kitchen table after the third reheat, plopping the walkie on the table before slumping into a chair. A glance at the clock on the wall shows it's a little after eight.

"Morning," Robin says around a yawn, laying her head down on the table.

"There's coffee, but you'll need to microwave it."

"Bleh," Robin wrinkles her nose at that, "no thanks."

"Any news?"

"Yeah. Dustin woke me up. Steve just left, so should be hearing from him soon."

Eddie nods, then says, "I'll drop you off but I'm not- I won't be going in."

"What? Why?"

He feels himself tighten his grip on his mug but if he can tell this to anyone, it's Robin. "I... Jeff accidentally outed me to Steve, yesterday. It's why I was all-" he pauses, waving a hand in the air like that explains anything before continuing, "-falling apart yesterday. Jeff saw Steve, he was on my bed and just, one thing led to another, and Jeff was joking -he'd never have said anything if he knew Steve could hear him- but it. It was. I-I can't-"

Robin's hand falls on his arm, gives it one squeeze before retracking her arm but it's enough to cut off Eddie's words. "I get it. Do you want me to tell Steve anything for you?"

"Just tell him I'm sorry."

She looks like she wants to ask what he's sorry for, but she doesn't. He's glad for that but how can he even begin to explain all the things he's sorry for?

"I need to talk to Jeff. Come up with something to tell him. I was supposed to go talk to him last night but."

"But," Robin repeats with a nod. "What were you going to tell him?"

He shrugs. "I'm pretty good at thinking on my feet. I'll figure it out when I'm lying to his face."

There is silence after that as Robin plays with the walkie on the table, slight frown to her face. He lets the silence hang for a moment before needing to break it, but Robin speaks at the same time.

"You still awake?"

"You should tell him."

They blink at each other before Robin says, "You should tell Jeff the truth."

"I can't do that, Robin. I signed an NDA."

"Since when would something like that stop you?"

"It's not... he wouldn't believe me."

"Do you make a habit of lying to him?"

"No."

"Then he'll probably believe you. Besides, you don't have to tell him anything about what you did sign an NDA for. Steve turning into a doll isn't Upside Down related. I'll vouch for you, and I'm sure Steve will, too, if that's what it took to get Jeff to believe you."

"We already brought my uncle into the loop. We can't just keep adding people to it."

Robin sighs and sits back. "It's up to you, Eddie. You can make up your lie and it'll be fine. By your own admission he knows you like guys, and that's not something we share lightly. So, Jeff must mean a lot to you. I just don't want you to lose Jeff because of this."

"Jeff and I have a solid friendship. We'll get through this."

"Okay. I just-"

"Robin? Eddie? I'm home," Steve's voice comes through the walkie talkie, startling both of them.

"Be right there," Robin says back as Eddie stands to find his shoes and keys.

-

He drops Robin off at Steve's and pulls away before she's even across the lawn. If he sees Steve, he'll stay, and he can't. Not today.

It's barely 8:30 in the morning so he knows Jeff won't be awake. His mom will, though, and she'll let him in.

"We were expecting you last night," is the greeting he's given when Jeff's mom opens the door enough to see who's knocking this early. Her tone is light, teasing like she usually does, but Eddie's feeling a bit too guilty to joke back.

"I know. But, uh, I was- I'm here to apologize. For not showing."

"He's still asleep," she says even as she's stepping back to let him in.

"Not for long."

"I take no responsibility for any injuries that you may acquire for waking him up this early."

Jeff wakes up with a startled yell when Eddie jumps on him, attempting to use his blanket to trap his limbs in so he can't start swinging (or put Eddie into a headlock until he passes out).

"Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie," Jeff huffs, once his fright has settled and he glares up at Eddie, who is straddling Jeff, pinning the blanket down around him.

"Are you gonna punch me?"

"No."

Eddie signs in relief and flops sideways, off of Jeff and onto the bed. He realizes his mistake a second too late, when Jeff has already shoved him out of the bed with all his strength, so Eddie lands with a loud 'OOF' on the floor. He should have flopped to the other side, between Jeff and the wall.

No. Jeff would have just shoved him into the wall then.

"Why can't you just show up and apologize like a normal person?" Jeff's voice is muffled, like he's shoved his face into his pillow.

"Uhh, because that's what normal people do?"

Jeff just groans, long-suffering, and soon his head peaks over the edge of the bed to look at Eddie. "Apology accepted. So, are we gonna talk about yesterday, or do we both agree it never happened, provided you can keep your creepy Harrington shrines to, like, the back of your closet or deep in the woods, where I never have to see it again."

"I can one thousand percent guarantee you will never see what you saw again."

"Perfect."

They spend a majority of the day together, and Eddie feels himself settle. He and Jeff are good. Will always be good. He doesn't need to justify or explain to Jeff, not on things that don't involve Jeff directly. He's not going to tell Jeff the truth. Not today, or even in the near future. He can't say he won't, ever, finally tell him the truth about the murder accusations and the fallout of that, but Jeff doesn't need to know that to be his friend.

It's a great relief, honestly, to have friends none the wiser to the awful things that lurked in Hawkins. An even greater relief to have friends that know him.

Eddie heads home when it gets closer to dinner time. He's already bummed breakfast and lunch from Jeff and his family, so he tells Jeff they'll hang out later and heads home. He should get there with enough time to share dinner with Wayne.

His uncle is in the process of cooking what smells like seasoned meat of some sort.

"Eddie, come here a second," Wayne says, glancing over his shoulder. Eddie, who had been heading to the couch, instead steps into the kitchen area.

"What's up?"

"Steve is in your room."

Eddie feels a tinge of panic at those words. He does his best to keep his face neutral.

"We had a chat, he and I. He wants to talk to ya, but he's willin' to wait for you to come to him. So, the options are this. You go back to your room and have that chat, or you walk back out that door and hang out back while I let Steve know I'm takin' him home. The second option does come with the stipulation that you don't let dinner burn while I'm gone."

His first instinct is to run, so he does. Almost. He turns away and makes it to the door but when he puts his hand on the doorknob, he finds he doesn't want to turn it. Steve came to him. Wayne spoke to Steve, so if Steve had any intentions of just punching him in the face and leaving, then Steve wouldn't still be here at all. Wayne would have thrown him out.

"How'd he get here?" Eddie finds himself asking without turning around.

"I think he walked."

He can do this. He'll just go down the hall, look at a spot somewhere above Steve's head and tell him he's sorry, and can they please stay friends, and everything will be fine.

He'd followed Steve into Mordor, once. This will be nothing.

Wayne says nothing as Eddie heads down the hall, to where his bedroom door is slightly ajar. He pushes it open slowly, stepping into his own room timidly.

Seeing Steve knocks the wind out of him.

Steve is sitting at the end of his bed, hunched over so his elbows are resting on his knees while his hands hold Eddie's Walkman between his knees. Steve's got the headphones on, but the right side is pushed back on his head behind his ear. Probably so he can hear when Eddie arrives, but he's either lost in his thoughts or the music but he doesn't notice Eddie at first. So, Eddie takes him in. Gone is the outfit he wore as a doll. Instead, Steve is wearing what appears to be homemade Bermuda jean shorts, his Members Only jacket, unzipped, and a shirt under that that looks suspiciously like the Metallica tank top Eddie lost months ago. His hair looks flatter than usual, like he let it air dry after a shower and didn't put any product in it. It's ruffled though, like it always is when Steve spends the day running his hand through it.

"Hi," Eddie says, and watches as Steve jolts, like he's been caught doing something bad.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out. "Hi."

"It's, uhh, good to see you sitting up on your own, no pillow needed," Eddie says, sliding further into his room, clicking the door closed behind him to give an illusion of privacy.

Steve pulls the headphones from his head with his right hand, transferring everything to his left. He doesn't hit pause on the Walkman, though, so the faint sound of music plays but it's not loud enough to really be heard. "I- I'm glad it's you and not your uncle. I thought for sure you'd want more time."

"Better to get this over with, don't you think? Steve, I'm-"

"No, Eddie, listen to me, first. Please. All I've done this last month and a half is listen and I got things I need to say."

Eddie closes his mouth so fast his teeth click.

Steve takes a deep breath before setting the Walkman on the bed and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he stands. "Thank you. For everything. For being there for Robin, and Dustin, and everyone else. For talking to me like I wasn't trapped in porcelain hell."

"Yeah, no problem, man-"

"Eddie, you never- never once did I feel like a burden, or forgotten, when you were watching over me. And, I don't know, I don't think anyone meant to let me feel that way, but sometimes- you just went above and beyond and hanging out with you was, like, the highlight of this. The best thing to come out of it."

With nowhere to hide, Eddie looks down, let's his hair form a barrier, even for just a moment. That's a lot to hear, and not at all what he expected.

"Eddie," Steve whispers, and Eddie startles when one of Steve's hands comes up to sweep his hair from his face, tucking the hair on the right side of his face behind his ear before it settles on his cheek. "I know you didn't want me to hear what Jeff said yesterday but I'm so fucking glad I did. I, uhh, I thought you were straight-" Eddie doesn't think he's ever been accused of being straight before. "-and I was just trying to be so normal around you while I was, according to Robin, pining-" wait. what. wait. what!? "-and I thought I was doing such a shit job at it because it was like, you'd randomly pull back and away, distance yourself, and I thought it was because I was making you uncomfortable, flirting too much and showing how stupidly obsessed with you I am-" his brain has turned off. Eddie has stopped functioning. "-but now I think it was, like, the exact opposite. You were pulling away because you thought I figured out your crush, but uh... What I mean is, I've wanted to kiss you since the Fourth of July party last year, and there's like, probably a ton of shit we should talk about but I just really want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, please, do that," Eddie blurts and Steve laughs even as his other hand joins his first on Eddie's face and pulls him in.

Kissing Steve feels like coming home. Warmth, and safety, and a sense of familiarity, despite them never having done this before. They smile into the kiss, which makes it harder to actually kiss, but then Eddie's tilting his head, his hands moving on their own, one to Steve's hip and the other to his neck, and it's suddenly deeper, more passionate. Steve steps into his space, gets as close as he can as his tongue licks at Eddie's lips and he can't fathom doing anything other than opening up, brushing his own tongue against Steve's, getting a taste of him.

Eddie's not even sure what his plan is when he tried to walk Steve backwards to the bed, but whatever it was goes flying out of his mind when Steve turns them and shoves at Eddie so he ends up flat on his back, eyes wide as he looks up at Steve. Steve, whose eyes have darkened, and his lips are shiny and kiss-bitten, who quickly shrugs off his jacket and throws it somewhere, allowing Eddie to confirm that it is his Metallica tank before Steve's climb onto the bed, knees on either side of Eddie's hips as he lowers himself to kiss Eddie again.

Steve kisses him hungerly before pulling back to kiss his way across Eddie's cheek, over the scarred flesh there that Eddie's long accepted and embraced, down his neck where Steve peppers in little nips between kisses before he latches onto a place low on his neck. It pulls a guttural noise from Eddie that he wasn't even aware he could make, realizing he's going to have marks from Steve on him. Visible reminders that this is actually happening to him and not just a dream.

He's not even sure how long they make out like that, Steve hovering over him, alternating between kissing lips and neck. Eddie gets a hand on the back of Steve's head to pull him down, closer, so he can trail kisses along Steve's neck, mark him, too, in a mirror of what he did to Eddie.

"Fuck, Eddie," Steve hisses, one hand fisting Eddie's shirt just above where Steve's knees bracket him. Steve's over hand is on the bed next to Eddie's head, keeping Steve from fully face planting onto Eddie. "I can't believe you want me back. Can't believe I get to kiss you, that you want me."

Eddie has no idea why Steve thinks he's the one who can't believe what's happening but the words ignite a fluttering in his stomach and turns his brain to mush and even though they are actively making out, Eddie feels that if he doesn't hold Steve's hand right now he's going to die. He releases one hand from the death drip he apparently had on Steve's hips to drop it on the bed, palm up, sliding upwards to meet where Steve has his hand next to Eddie's head. Eddie wiggles his fingers against Steve's wrist until he gets with the picture, adjusting his weight off his hand long enough to Eddie to wiggle his own under it to they're palm to palm, fingers lacing together.

Steve sits up a bit, then, shifting his weight to his knees as he hovers above Eddie, eyes jumping between Eddie's face and their joined hands like this is the part he really can't believe; Eddie wanting to hold his hand.

It makes Eddie laugh, a soft noise, and move their joined hands to his lips, to kiss at Steve's knuckles, eyes never leaving Steve's face as he does so. It's then he notices the shift on Steve's face, so quickly there and gone that Eddie almost isn't sure he sees it, the slight furrow between his brow, frown on his face, eyes darting from Eddie's face to their hands again, before it all smooths over to look unbelievable fond.

It's enough to bring Eddie out of his euphoria, to look at their joined hands and finally register what it is he's feeling, literally. Steve's left hand is joined with his right, and what Eddie sees now that he's really looking is a new scar on Steve's arm, just above his elbow, running down, towards his hand, towards his pinky-

"Eddie, it's okay," Steve is already saying even as Eddie is unlacing their fingers and sitting up. The action forces Steve to shimmy back a bit but he doesn't leave Eddie's lap. Eddie grabs at Steve's hand again, not to lace their fingers but to examine Steve's.

He doesn't have a pinky.

"Steve-"

"No. Whatever you are thinking or worrying about or- or whatever, just. No," Steve says. "I'm fine. It's fine. It doesn't hurt, and I'm fine."

His first instinct is to argue, to try and wriggle himself out from under Steve but he's stopped as Steve grips at him.

"Please don't," Steve sounds hurt, in pain, and that stops Eddie immediately, "please don't take this from me. Don't go. I just got you." Steve's hand trembles, still hovering between them. Where he was cracked as a doll, he is now a scarred as a human, the pinky still gone but the skin smoothed over and healed.

Eddie wraps his hand around Steve's wrist and pulls his hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss where his pinky used to be. "You have me. For as long as you want."

Steve collapses forward against him, like a puppet with cut strings, and Eddie hugs him close.

Much later, after some more crying, and dinner, and cuddling, Eddie does have one final question before sleep.

"Do you know what broke the curse?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve looks so amused. "True Love's Kiss. Dustin was so freaked out about what happened he tucked me into his bed and give me a lil' kiss on the noggin. One blinding flash of light later, Dustin and I are staring at each other in surprise."

"You're kidding."

"Man, I wish I was."

-

Aaaand done!! Thank you so much for reading, and a special thanks to @mcneen for letting me ramble about the options I didn't go with. I'll be posting a meta-commentary post about the things that didn't happen/could have happened/unused ideas at some point but the story itself is finished!

Thanks for reading!

[gaybananabread]

•• @hexalianrebel-blackfeathers #19 (Secret), How about a very funny secret identity reveal? >w< Miles gets some tickles from one or both of his parents, and through a folly of your choice (a minor injury, noticing his costume, or god forbid, him losing control of his powers) they realize that he's Spiderman. ••

TickleTober Day 19 - Secret

~OOOO THAT’S A GOOD IDEA!! All of Panda’s reqs have got my brain juices flowing in the best ways. I’ve got a feeling Jeff’s gonna seem a little nonexistent here; I did my best 🫡. This is mostly plot (read: angst/comfort) with some tickles, though I did try to work as many in as possible; I just had so many internal dialogue ideas. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy! Happy spooky season!~

Lee: Miles Morales

Lers: Rio and Jeff Morales

Summary: Exhausted from a tough night of crime fighting, Miles wakes up looking less than alive. His parents sit him down for a little cheer-up session, but it quickly morphs into something much more serious.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Miles groaned as he hauled himself out of bed, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and lower back scream in protest. Spot had been causing problems the night before, requiring the gang to go down and deliver his weekly ass-kicking. The spotted man had been getting more creative, he’d give him that.

Unfortunately for Miles, that meant he’d had to work twice as hard to bring the slippery jerk. He’d avoided the cops again, but the teen had recovered all the stolen tech. While it felt gratifying to protect the city, his body was wondering if it was worth it. It was, obviously, but still.

The exhausted spider barely noticed his parents in the living room, zombie-shuffling into the kitchen to grab a Pop-Tart and a Monster. Not the healthiest breakfast, sure, but he needed a quick boost before he started on his homework. Uuuuugh, World History essays…

Rio, of course, snatched the can from his grip before he could poison himself with all the caffeine on an empty stomach. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Uuuuh…gettin’ breakfast?” He showed her the strawberry toaster pastry in his hand, hoping it’d get him out of the inevitable scolding. Why couldn’t his mom’s true crime show have been on to distract her?

“¡No en mi casa, Miles! You’re eating real food and drinking something other than this battery acid,” Rio huffed, trading the energy drink for a glass of milk and leftover tostones with eggs. She heated the food up and guided him to the table, placing a fork in his hand before he could process anything.

“Eat. After that, we’re talking.” Without giving him a moment to complain or speak, she went back to the couch, settling against her husband’s side.

Apparently, his mom's show was on; he could hear the gorey details, as well as his dad’s groans in response to some of the messier descriptions. Rio had left her favorite trash TV show to come and scold him. Not good…

Once he’d finished his reheated heaven, Miles slunk over to the couch. Maybe if he was slick enough about it, his mom would just let him cuddle up beside her and avoid conversation.

“Miles, sit. Your Dad and I need to talk to you.” Shiiiiiiiit. She was using the tone – the one kids and teens everywhere knew feared.

“Sure. What’s up?” Miles tried to play it cool, sitting languidly as he watched his parents’ faces.

“You’ve been really tired lately, Miles. It’s not like you.” Jeff spoke, giving Miles the “I’m here for you, but I know you’re hiding something” look. He really didn’t like how that look made his stomach twist; he felt bad enough about lying without his Dad’s skepticism.

“AP classes are kicking my butt, not anything new. More homework means less sleep.” That felt pretty believable. Of all Miles’s horrible lies, that one might’ve ranked in the top-ten.

“Come on, mijo; we aren’t stupid. You get most of your homework done at school, and we both know it.” Rio’s firm words shattered that little beam in his chest. He really needed to get better at lying…

“C’mon…” Miles sighed, grasping at straws. What could he tell them? Obviously not the truth – they’d be furious if they learned he’d been lying to them for over a year. He couldn’t think of any good lies, though, just sighing. “I dunno. It’s…it’s complicated, I guess. Don’t really wanna get into it.”

His parents seemed to take the angsty answer as a clear boundary, giving each other the parental “we’ll scheme later” look before addressing their son. Jeff leaned over Rio, patting the boy’s shoulder.

“Alright, Miles. We’ll leave it for now, but you gotta give us something. Why’re you so slow today?”

That was an easy answer: he was sore as all hell, fighting every muscle in his body with each subtle movement. Had to be an easier way to say that… “A few guys and I were playin’ ball down by my old school. I got a few in, but my arms are sore.”

They seemed to believe that one, his father’s hand switching to a gentle squeeze. “Hey, no pain, no gain. Gotta get those noodle arms conditioned.”

If only he knew how strong Miles truly was…best not to think about it. He still got to complain about physical activity with his facade anyway.

“Hey, hey! Leave the poor noodles outta this!” Miles hugged his arms to his chest, feeling a bit of playfulness rise in his chest. He was exhausted, sure, but people he was close to and having fun with tended to recharge his battery.

Rio picked up on the mood shift, her mom brain running through a few ideas on how to cheer him up. He was obviously still upset and facing something, but they couldn’t force him to tell them anything. It seemed, for that day at least, like perking him up was the best course of action.

Miles squeaked as he felt a poke on his side, narrowing his eyes at his mom. Rio chuckled knowingly, already moving to do it again. Miles tried to jump off the couch, but his dad’s squeezing hand quickly became a vice-like grip.

“Hey- noho! C’mon, Mohohom! Dahad!” Miles could’ve easily ripped himself out of his father’s grip, but that would reveal his secret to them; that definitely wasn’t happening until he was ready, or maybe ever. He wasn’t sure, honestly. All he was sure of was that his mom’s tickling was getting more insistent.

“Nope. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my baby boy really laugh. This is long overdue.” Rio moved her wiggling fingers higher, curling them around his ribcage. As expected, he folded like a lawn chair, trying to curl in on himself while also suppressing his spider strength.

“Jeff, mi amor, little help?”

Jeff smiled before hooking his hands beneath Miles’s arms, dragging him across Rio’s lap, and pinning said arms above his head. It wasn’t a very good spot for Miles to be stuck, but his parents seemed utterly amused.

“D-Dahahahad! Youhu trahaitor! Ihi’ll remehehember- NYAHAHAHAHOHO! M-MAHAHAMI!” Miles thrashed like a worm on a hook as he suddenly felt his mom’s nails on the bottoms of his socked feet, wiggling evilly as they made him lose his mind. Of all the places she could’ve chosen to target, why did it have to be his feet?

“But I’m having so much fun! What about you, Jeff’?”

“Absolutely. He’s kinda cute like this, all giggly smiles. I could get used to it.” Jeff obviously shared her sentiments, gently scratching a finger against his son’s wrists. He usually left the overly physical affections to his wife, but he was enjoying himself.

Miles didn’t know what to feel.

First off, his parents, plural, were tickling him to pieces. His friends were the only ones who’d done that within the last few years, save for Miguel and Peter B. Secondly, it freaking tickled! Like, a lot! His mind was taken back to much earlier days of his mom making him shriek for lying, refusing to eat his vegetables, and when he…asked. Oh shit.

Mom knows I like this.

That single thought alone was enough to break his brain; when he felt his mom’s nails glide up to his armpits, it was all over.

“GYAAAHAHAHA! MOHOHOHOM!” With a shriek of laughter, Miles suddenly disappeared.

Rio yelped, while Jeff sputtered some less-than-appropriate phrases. They could both still feel their son on top of them, but…he was hidden from sight.

Just like Spider-Man.

“Me cago en Dios…” Rio felt her heart pump double-time in her chest, a feeling of cold shock and realization settling over her. Her son, her sweet boy, was Spider-Man. Worse, he’d felt the need to lie to her. For a year.

Miles would’ve loved to stay invisible, but his body followed it’s usual “fuck you, I do what I want” routine; he popped back into their sights, a look of pure terror on his face. What would they think? What would they do? Would his dad react like Gwen’s initially did?

Jeff was much less calm than his wife with his reactions. He dropped Miles’s wrists in a hurry, staring right into his son’s eyes. He’d been right there, right in the danger with him, shoved him out of the way to take hits way too heavy for a teenager. When it came time to actually speak, the man could only force two words past his heavy lips.

“Miles…why?”

Shit. That was so much worse than anger.

“I-I can explain! I was- it wasn’t on purpose. Well, a-all the Spider-Man stuff was, but not getting there! I got bit by somethin’, just like the original dude, and it gave me powers. I couldn’t not help people, ya know? Dad? Mom?”

Miles rushed the words out as he looked between their stunned faces, unable to move off their laps. Well, he wanted to, but his body was too shocked and afraid to do much, aside from twist his fingers and occasionally shake.

“Please say something?”

“Why did you hide this?” Rio was the first to say a complete sentence, though it followed the basis of her husband’s two words of dismay. She didn’t look as horrified as his father did, but she definitely wasn’t humming a tune and giggling.

“I…had to. To keep you safe. I wasn’t… I didn’t have everything figured out. By the time I did, it was already kinda too late.”

“You didn’t have to! You could’a told me! I could’a helped you with half the crazy assholes you’ve fought!” There was Jeff, expressing his emotions by shouting. He felt his son flinch from the volume, immediately adjusting himself. “I never would’ve let you face off against some’a those fuckers…”

“That’s the problem, Dad. I’ve got a responsibility, just like you. I can’t just abandon New York because a bad guy could whoop me! Sure, I get banged up sometimes, but I’ve got a healing factor. I can fix a broken rib in a week.”

Miles hoped that would be enough to soothe the hurt and fear on his father’s face. It wasn’t even close to enough, but it did give him some information.

“But you shouldn’t have to know that! You’re 15! You should be worryin’ about girls and puberty and drivin’, not saving the whole damn city!”

Miles felt that it was a bad time to mention that he saved the whole damn state, not just Brooklyn, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Mi precioso niño… You could’ve told us. We could’ve been there. We’re your parents, Miles!” Rio grabbed his arm, bringing it down from above his head to really examine the skin there. Sure, enough, she found scars; faint, thanks to the healing factor, but she traced each one with reverence. “Sentías que no podías confiar en nosotros...”

“I didn’t not wanna trust you! I just… It’s hard. I didn’t wanna put you in harm's way, and I didn’t know what you’d do if I told you.” Miles’s voice finally betrayed him, wobbling as he forced back tears. He preferred anger. Anger was reciprocated, easy, mindless. But the fear and hurt? Those were killing him.

Miles felt his mom brush away a tear he didn’t even realize he’d shed. Rio looked over at her husband, the two having a silent conversation before she spoke. “We’re not mad, Miles. Well, I really wish you hadn’t hidden this, but we’re not gonna get angry. We love you, baby, and we’re here for you.”

“For whatever you need, hear me? We love you, Miles; more than anything on this damn planet No more hiding. You tell us everything.” His father’s voice cut in as well, a little shaky, but still firm. Still there, not kicking him away or shunning him for his misdeed. They were supporting him…

A jolt of warmth shot right into his heart, followed by the crushing weight of all he’d been keeping from them. Tears started flowing as he curled on his side, hiding his face in the closest abdomen – his father’s. Jeff sighed, gently petting his son’s head as he sobbed.

Rio carefully rubbed Miles’s legs, feeling hidden muscles as she tried to soothe him. He was in so much trouble later, but…the knowledge was hurting him, too. The burden of living the life he was apparently just tossed into. She knew what that felt like, and she wasn’t about to get mad at her son for it.

With a shaky sigh, Rio leaned her head on Jeff’s shoulder, her hazel eyes met his. Both parents knew one thing: they’d do anything for their son.

Even if it meant raising a superhero in a crime-ridden, super-powered city. They were not going to abandon their boy, no matter what. They loved him, and that was never changing.

[gloomzombie]

I'll Bury You For This

Pairings: Jeff the Killer X Male Reader

Warnings: None(?)(( Let me know if I need to put any!))

Word Count: 4,276

Chapter Four: Follow You

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

August 20. 10:23 pm.

“So, how’s school going for you, Y/N?” The question is one I’ve been asked thousands of times before, all from John, and all usually around the same time; but coming from Ms. Taylor’s comforting voice doesn't fill me with unnecessary anger. I take a bite of the reheated spaghetti and look up at her. She sits across from me at the small dining table, and Gage sits on my left, his gaze and focus on his food. Part of me wishes he were focused on me, but the other part knows it’s selfish to think that way- even when I can’t get them out of my head. “It’s going fine, thanks. So far, the work’s been pretty easy and I’ve got enough friends to enjoy it.” It’s only partially a lie. I have enough friends for me, though I’m sure three- maybe four now that I’ve properly met Stacy- isn’t what anyone else would consider “enough friends.”

She smiles at me, her lips now wiped clean from the red lipstick she adorned earlier. She’s not eating with us, only drinking sips of her red wine. Gage told me this is normal if she’s gone out; sitting at the dinner table and chatting with him about his day and what he’s thinking, even if she already ate. It’s such a nice thing to do, and on days where I mope wishing John could’ve been better, or wishing I had a better dad in general, I could see myself wanting this with him- or with a better parent- or maybe Mom. If she were still here, would she have stayed with him? If she did, would she still stay even after he started losing his memory? Would he be a better person if she were with us?

I shake the thoughts from my head, focusing back onto my plate in front of me. I can’t cry in front of her again, and I definitely can’t in front of Gage. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad you have good friends to hang out with.” She smirks as she glances at Gage, then back at me. “And a boyfriend.” Gage’s head snaps up to her, his face all pink. How sweet. “Mom! I told you he’s not my boyfriend.” He argues, though not strongly, his face turning brighter with the words he speaks. She just smiles and giggles. “Mhmm, whatever you say, baby.” She leans over and places a kiss on his cheek, to which he leans away from. “Momm, please,” He spluttered, exasperated. She just peppers kisses all over his cheek, ignoring him. I can’t help the smile that creases my lips, watching them silently. I can see how he could be embarrassed by her, but really, he’s so lucky to have a mom like her. She giggles and pulls away. “Fine, fine.” She readjusts in her seat, a proud smile tugging at her lips. Gage lets his messy bangs fall over his face, though his hair’s not long enough to cover the smile that mirrors his mothers. 

August 20. 11:12 pm.

After dinner, Gage practically drags me up the stairs with him, his hand never loosening its grasp on mine. His mom only smiles at us as we go, which makes a blush rise up my neck and into my cheeks. As he leads me to his room, I can’t help but smile. He’s gotten more confident with me, I can tell. God, why does that make me feel the way it does? I shut the door behind me and he reaches his arm past me, twisting the lock as he looks up at me. I smirk down at him, his beautiful sage colored eyes gazing into mine. My smirk softens into a smile and he seems to notice, a light pink tint grazing his cheeks, his nose, the tips of his ears. 

The buzz of the alcohol has worn down by now, having been a few hours ago; but nonetheless, the adrenaline I feel right now is almost unbearable. In one swift motion, I wrap my arms around his waist and hoist him up into my arms. He squeaks and his legs wrap instinctively around my hips, his arms around my neck. I press my lips up against his, him responding in kind; kissing me back almost as passionately, though I can still feel the shyness of it. I waste no time in carrying him to his bed, laying him in it and breaking the kiss. His eyelids flutter open, his green eyes dark in the dim light; the only light being the deep, navy blue lamp on his bedside table. I need him.

His limbs never tear away from me, and they pull me onto him, as he gazes up at me with those fucking eyes. The way he’s looking at me now is something I’ve desperately wanted for years. He’s so fucking addicting. I kick my shoes off, letting them fall wherever. He watches me intently with an undeniable blush grazing his soft, delicate features as I sit up in his lap and pull my shirt up and off of me. I throw it on the floor, keeping eye contact with the boy underneath me. I can feel him already, a pulsing feeling against my leg and I don’t even try to hide the smile that makes its way onto my face. I lean down to kiss his neck, some of the strands of my hair falling and brushing against him. 

“Please, Y/N.” He whispers, his voice a tad higher than usual. I look up at him. Fuck, did I go too far? I got so caught up in the feeling of him; the feeling of just being with him, that I didn’t pay enough attention to what he may be feeling. “Everything alright, Gage?” I ask, bringing my head up a bit so I can look down at him comfortably. He glances up at the ceiling, resting his head down on the pillow. “I..I think so. I just…” he hesitates, and I can feel the nauseating wave of guilt wash over me. I chew on my bottom lip, but I don’t tear the skin as much as I’d like to. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

The heat in my cheeks spreads to my ears and I feel so uncomfortably hot. I sit up, still in his lap, but giving him space if he so wants it. “I-I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I-” “No. Don’t do that.” He rises to sit up, his full focus on me; with his hands sliding down my arms to intertwine his fingers with mine. “I…I want everything you’ve done, and everything you want to do.” His face can’t get any redder, so evident under the blue light. I feel the relief flood over me, drowning out the guilt from before. His eyes drop to the floor, but he brings them back up just as quickly as he dropped them. “I want you, Y/N, but not just like this.” He mutters, leaning his forehead against mine. I can feel his breath against my lips this way. “Are you saying..you want to go out with me?” I ask, and the question is one I’ve never asked before.

Despite sleeping with people in the past, I’ve never actually been on a date. I’ve gone out with people, sure, but they never saw me as anything but a friend; or a toy to use for sex and nothing more. The thought of going out with Gage runs through my mind, and my body reacts; my heartbeat thrums in my ears, a repetitive thump, thumping sound; my stomach feels like it's churning- but not in the bad way I’ve grown so accustomed to. He smiles his sweet little smile and I can’t deny the way it makes me feel so nervous. “Yes, Y/N. I’ve wanted to for months, maybe a year now.” I smile sheepishly. 

Oh, yeah. I forgot Gage had his eyes on me for months before he got the courage to talk to me. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him before, but I guess it makes sense; we both prefer to stand on the sidelines, unnoticed by the crowd. I just wish I had noticed him sooner. “Then, let’s go on a date.” I speak nervously. The words are foreign coming from my mouth. I’ve never been asked out before, and never asked anyone else out either. He adjusts to sit up straighter, and I slide off of his lap, sitting in front of him, though his hands never break from mine. “I’d love that.” He shakes his hair out from behind his ears, his bangs covering his eyes; but I catch the sudden color in his face. He’s still so nervous around me, as I am with him. I laugh; a real laugh that makes me feel so light. 

He smiles, a wide and open smile. “What?” He asks and I shake my head, still laughing. “I just..I don’t think I’ve liked anyone the way I like you before.” I squeeze his hands, warm in mine. He flushes and giggles. “I could say the same to you, lover.” Lover. The pet name leaves me feeling so fuzzy. My stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. I close the small gap between us, pressing my lips against his in a way I haven’t with anyone before him. I can feel him smile through the kiss, and I smile too.

August 21. 1:24 am.

“Wait, you’re telling me with all of those bands you like, you’ve never been to a concert before?” Gage asks as he sips his tea, sitting in a booth opposite from mine. I shake my head. “Nope. I mean- I wish I had of course, but…” I gaze at the floor of the dimly lit 24-hour cafè. “I’ve just never had the money for it when they do come here.” A lie. I hate to lie, especially to people I actually give a shit about- but really, there’s no way around it with the way I have to live. I don’t want to drop my shitty situation onto him, so it’s so much easier- nicer-  to lie.

He nods. “I get that. Where’d you say you work again?” He wonders aloud, tilting his head. I take a bite of the semi-warm chocolate chip cookie in my hand. “Library. I’m the assistant,” I place the cookie down. “Y’know, putting books back where they belong and shit.” He smiles sweetly, and I can’t help but to smile too. “Awh, do you like that? I know you read a lot.” I sigh, leaning against the cushiony booth behind me. I love the way he just knows stuff about me. 

“I do, actually. It's good pay and when there’s nothing else to do and no people that need help, I can read.” I pick up my glass of coke and take a few sips of it. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been wanting to get into reading lately,” his fingers tap lightly on the mug in his hands. “I just don’t really know where to start.” I perk up at that, placing my glass down. “I have a lot of books you could read!” I smile sheepishly. “The first and only piece of furniture I bought was my own bookcase. I started getting too many books, they all couldn't fit on my desk anymore,” I could feel my face heat up. 

He giggles, making my face feel even warmer. “That’s..really cute actually.” I huff. “Hey, you’re supposed to be the cute one,” I argue teasingly, finishing the last bit of my cookie. He shakes his head, giggling some more before taking another sip of his tea. “You can be cute sometimes too.” I shake my head too, giving up. 

We continued talking for a bit in that shabby little diner. I’m still surprised his mom let us go out so late. John doesn’t even like me going out past sundown. Even though it’s been only a week of talking to him, I think I’m starting to really like him. I can’t let myself rush into this like I usually do, though. If Gage is good for me, the last thing I want to do is mess that up. The walk back to Gage’s house is silent- a comfortable silence. His hand is warm in mine, contrast to the chill of the late summer breeze. I can’t stop smiling until we reach the door. 

He takes out his keys and unlocks it, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. He smiles at me and takes my hand again as he leads me inside. I don’t smile back, my cheeks are sore from all the smiling I’ve already done. I shut and lock the door behind me. He takes me upstairs and into his room. I take off my shoes and place them neatly by his door, watching as he does the same. 

I sigh as I lie down on his comfy bed. It’s much nicer than mine, soft but firm. Mine is missing springs, dents in the mattress where they should be. “I’m gonna take a shower.” I look over at Gage and he’s pulling his sweater over his head. I can’t help but smile at the sight, my cheeks screaming in protest. I’ve never seen him without it. His t-shirt hangs loosely on his thin frame, making him look smaller than he already is. “I didn’t think you could look any cuter.” I move to lay on my side, resting my head on my hand. He smiles at me, though I can see the light blush at his ears. “Shush. Do you want one after me?” I think for a bit. I probably should. “Yeah, sure. As long as I get to listen to music.” He giggles. “If you want. I won’t take long.” He takes out some clothes from his drawer, then goes to the bathroom in his room. He shuts the door and I pick up my phone. I turned it off a while ago, so I could enjoy my time with Gage. 

I turn it on, chewing on my lip as I wait for the android screen to change. As soon as it does, practically a million notifications pop up. I groan, already knowing where most of them came from. I scroll through and swipe away all the missed calls and messages from John. There’s no point in responding now. I’ll send him a message in the morning. I get rid of all the youtube notifications. I don’t really feel like watching any of them. I stop when I see Xander’s name. 

August 21. 12:34am. 

Xander: Hey Y/N. We need to talk. Meet tmmr at 2?

I can’t help but stare wide-eyed at the message. He hasn’t texted me since…June 7th- when he asked me to come meet him at the mall with his now ex girlfriend. What is it he wants to talk about? We’ve needed to talk for the past 5 goddamn months. I swear to god, if he wants to talk about some dumb shit again, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from blowing up on him this time.

I roll my eyes and text him back. Despite being really annoyed, I really do want to talk with him. Even if he wants to talk about dumb shit, I’ll make him listen to me. 

August 21. 2:13am.

okay. where?

As I’m placing my phone down, the screen lights up again. My eyebrows furrow. Xander messaged me back already? Bitch must be desperate. 

Xander: How about that bookstore you always wont shut up about? 

Okay, consider me confused. He’s never wanted to go to the bookstore, let alone go somewhere that I like. I sit up, texting him back again.

works with me, but why there?

Xander: Idk. Thought youd like that ig. Could get lunch after. I’ll pay

i cant say no to free food

Xander: K. C u then

C u

I hear the sound of the door swinging open and I look over. All thoughts of Xander escape my mind as I gape at the boy by the door. “Told you I wouldn’t take long,” Gage mumbles as he dries his hair with a towel. I can feel the bite of the blush rising up my cheeks. “I didn’t doubt you.” I look back down at my phone for just a minute, clicking out of the messages app and opening my music app. I look back at him and he’s shaking his head. Adorable. I stand up, sliding my phone in my pocket. I walk over to him and he flushes as I get closer. “You look so pretty,” I smile before placing a small kiss on his lips. His face goes pink and the bathroom light illuminating his face doesn’t hide it at all. He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Take your shower, dummy.” He goes to the edge of his bed, kneeling down to open my backpack. I chuckle as I watch him take out my clothes. I wonder how he’d look in them. 

After my shower, I look in the mirror as I dry my hair. I sigh, leaning closer to look at the deep purple lines under my eyes. They’ve been getting worse even though I’ve been getting…okay sleep. Could be stress, I guess. Or maybe it’s the nightmares finally catching up to me. I turn my gaze away, tossing the towel into the hamper by the door. I turn off the light and open the door. Gage is already in bed, his phone placed on the bedside table. He moves his arm over the blanket, lifting it up. “I’m tired. Come sleep?” I smile sheepishly and place my phone on the table next to his before sliding into bed with him.

August 21. 10:16am.

Sleeping in a bed next to Gage made the nightmare go away. I didn’t dream or anything, but that’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while. I look down at the boy beside me. The light peeking through his curtains bathes him in a light that makes his skin look like it’s glowing. The sight takes my breath away. I move my hand up to brush his bangs out of his face slowly, pressing my fingertips against his face. I don’t dare move anything else. I don’t want to wake him up. I let out a silent breath. I try not to think of the messages I must have from John. I need to stop letting him ruin these moments for me, especially when he’s not even fucking here. 

“You like watching me sleep? Creep,” Gage murmurs, his eyes opening slowly. My face heats up. “How could I not when you look this enchanting?” I smile. He closes his eyes again, a smile of his own touching his lips. “Shut uppp,” he whines, scooching closer to me. He pushes his face into my chest, and I laugh. “Going back to sleep?” I ask as I pet his hair. He hums and it vibrates my chest, making me feel so nervous. He mumbles something against my shirt. “What was that?” I chuckle. He pulls back, groaning. “I said I guess I probably shouldn’t. You need to go home sometime today.” He stretches, and I watch him. “Doesn’t that just mean we have to spend as much time together as we can until I leave?” I smile. He huffs and looks up at me. “I guess.” He tries but fails, a smile pulling at his lips. 

After we share a few more kisses, we decide to get up and get something to eat. We walk hand in hand down the sidewalk for a while. He’s taking me to his favorite breakfast place that’s just outside his neighborhood. 

My gaze is on the houses as we pass them. His neighborhood is the nicest I’ve ever been in, which doesn’t say much. All my previous friends have had run-down looking houses, and the others in their neighborhoods weren’t any better. The best was always Xander’s, until he moved out of his parents’ to live in a shitty garage-turned-apartment on his own. Xander. I miss Xander. My face droops a bit at the thought of him, and the thought of seeing him later today. I think Gage notices, but if he does he doesn’t say anything. I chew on my lip. I don’t need to think about him when I’m with Gage. 

He leads me up to the door of the restaurant and opens it for me. I smile. “Already opening doors for me,” I smirk smugly. “Shhhh,” He shushes, walking in after me. The restaurant is small, about five tables inside with two outside. The smell of butter, syrup, and eggs fills the air with an oddly comforting scent. I walk him over to a table with two chairs in the corner, right by the window. He sits in the chair opposite of mine, and I look out the window. From here, I can really see how nice his area is. The sidewalks on either side are free from overgrown grass and cracks in the cement; no potholes in the pavement nor broken beer cans or burnt and stomped out cigarettes. Though he doesn’t live far away from me, we’re still miles apart. 

“Hi, welcome to Granny’s kitchen. What can I get you?” I turn my gaze to see a short, dark skinned girl. She looks around our age, no lines of age gracing her clear skin. Her hair is braided and tied back into a low ponytail. There’s menus already laid on the table. How was I so focused on just the outside? I pick up the menu, my eyes scanning the laminated paper quickly to find something. I feel Gage’s fingers on my hands, sliding up and down so gently I almost didn’t catch it. “We’re gonna need a bit more time. Could I get a cup of herbal tea?” I look back up at him, and though he’s speaking to her, his eyes are on me- and he’s smiling. My face flushes and I resist the all too familiar urge to pull away. The waitress nods at him then turns to me.

“And for you?” She asks. “I’ll just have water.” She offers me a small smile. “Gotcha. I’ll be back with those drinks in a bit.” She turns away and heads to the kitchen door. I look at Gage, and his fingers are tracing mine as my hands still grip the menu. I bite my lip and look down. On the menu are a selection of breakfast, lunch, and dinner options. Though I prefer dinner or even lunch over any breakfast stuff, the chocolate chip pancakes catch my eye.

Under the breakfast options are breakfast sides to choose from. I can’t eat much, so I’m going to have to hope they let me get the kids. “Do you know what you’re getting?” Gage’s voice brings me out of my thinking. I look up at him. “Oh. Yeah, I think so. Um, do you know if they have an age limit for the kids portions?” I ask nervously. It feels so embarrassing to ask a question like that. What kind of 17 year old boy orders off the kids menu? 

“No, they don’t.” And there’s that sweet smile. “I usually order off of it. I don’t have a big appetite most of the time,” his hand is still resting on mine and, instinctively, I pull my arm away. Something keeps me from letting him touch me this much, in this way; I don’t know what, but right now, I don’t really care to think about it. “Good. Me neither.” I respond, my gaze dropping back to the menu, though I’m done reading it. He doesn’t speak up again until the waitress comes up to the table, which makes me wonder if I did something wrong. 

“Here’s your tea, and your coke,” She speaks as she places our drinks down in front of us. She smiles, and I can see she’s got those cool fang piercings. “Need more time?” She asks, glancing from me to Gage and back. “I think we’re good.” I look over at Gage and he nods. “I’ll have the kid’s chocolate chip pancakes with bacon.” I don’t usually eat out like this, so the words sound shaky and not right coming out of my mouth. Luckily, the waitress doesn’t seem to mind, or care. “Alright, and for you?” 

Gage tells her his order, and she walks back off after telling us it won’t take long. The rest of the breakfast goes by quickly, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I like spending time with Gage, especially when it could be considered as a date, but I can’t help but feel this weird sinking feeling. As if something’s going to go wrong at any moment. That, plus I’ve been so anxious the whole time about seeing Xander in just a few hours. It doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right. 

When I went to take the bill, Gage swoops it up. “I was gonna-” “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You paid at the diner last night,” He smiled at me before taking out his card. I bit my lip. I wanted to say he doesn’t have to. I wanted to say he shouldn’t pay for me because I don’t deserve that kind of treatment. But, as always, I said nothing.

[fire-for-you]

5 times gabby didn't realize kelly and matt were dating (and 1 time she did) - PART FIVE

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pairing - m. casey x k. severide

rating - teen and up (unrequited love, implied sexual content, hurt/comfort, minor violence, kidnapping, happy ending)

word count - 1,299

summary - for part five: matt's moving in! will gabby finally realize their intimacy?

a/n - very domestic sevasey with a small crotis scene included! what a chapter!!

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5.

Matt peeked an eye open as he felt the bed lurch up. He laid there for a moment, blurrily watching Kelly waddle to the bathroom.

Forgetting about the man's injuries, he studies the muscles on his boyfriend's back until he swears, bumping into the doorframe.

"Fuck, fuck. Ow, damn." Kelly clutches his side, practically doubling over in pain.

The Captain sits up quickly, bounding off the bed and over to his partner. "Dammit, Kel." He put an arm around his shoulder, supporting Kelly on his way.

"God, sorry, babe. Next time I'll try not to be passed out on a collapsing warehouse floor." He hissed as they moved forward. "Looking for you." He added.

Matt recognized the sarcasm in his voice and fought the urge to whack him upside his head, not wanting to make the concussion worse.

Once they made it to the toilet, Kelly lowered himself slowly so as to not jostle his skull or bend his ankle.

The blonde left him there - confident he was okay - to get him a glass of water and check the time. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 3:37.

When Matt returned, Kelly looked all around like a lost and wounded puppy. He leaned against the wall, mouth slack and hand on his side. His eyebrows were scrunched together in pain.

"Alright, Kel, c'mon. Got you a couple ice packs and water." Matt crouched down to hoist his partner up off the seat.

Back on the bed, the Lieutenant angled his foot on a pillow, resting a cold pack across the ligament. He had one on his side, too; Matt was holding it there as he drifted back to sleep, cuddled up to Kelly.

-

Later in the morning, when Matt kissed his partner goodbye and made sure Stella was okay watching him, the blonde drove to his apartment to start packing.

Eventually, the others arrived, stuffing boxes in the back of Matt's truck as Matt talked to his landlord.

Kelly woke up to soft hands carding through his hair.

"Hey." The other spoke, sitting on the side of the bed.

The injured man shifted, raising himself on bent elbows. He groaned as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

Looking around the room, he saw lots of boxes. "Guess it's gonna be a lot more crowded in here."

"Yeah, well, I would have sorted it back at my apartment, but I talked to Len, and it turned out he's wanted me gone for a while. Already had another renter set up and everything. I promise it's not as bad as you think."

Kelly smiled, taking Matt's hand in his own. "It's fine. Are you done already? Figured you'd have some help."

"Nah, the guys are just on a lunch break, my treat." The Captain grabbed Kelly's other hand, helping him off the bed.

"You got so much money now that you're not renting an unused apartment, huh?" The brunette limped with Matt to the kitchen, sitting on a stool gingerly.

Matt snorted as he grabbed leftover homemade mac-and-cheese from the fridge, reheating it in the microwave.

Kelly took a bite from the bowl as his boyfriend set it down.

"Yeah, I'm practically Jeff Bezos over here."

Swallowing made the Lieutenant's head throb worse, and he swayed in his seat.

Matt looked up and quickly made his way to the other side of the island. "Oh! Oh, alright, Kelly, let's get you on the couch." Maneuvering him, the man slid down onto the furniture. Then, he suddenly started wheezing and coughing harshly. "Kelly, Kelly, deep breaths, come on, with me, in," Matt breathed deeply in, and Kelly followed as best he could. "Out. Again."

A few minutes later, Kelly had calmed down, and his breathing was back to normal.

"Jesus, don't scare me like that. The doctor said coughs, but not that kind of coughs."

Voice straining, Kelly whispered, "My fucking side hurts so bad." A small wheeze. Matt moved to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The brunette tucked himself into his boyfriend's side, his eyes slipping closed.

The loft door crashed open, Cruz, Otis, Stella, Dawson, Herrmann, and Mouch jaunting through the door. They were laughing loudly, carrying foam boxes surely filled with leftovers.

Kelly put his hands up to his ears, somewhat deflecting their noise. Matt lifted his head to glare at the rowdy bunch, and they all promptly shut up.

"S-Sorry, Captain, we figured he was still asleep." Mouch started.

Casey opened his mouth to address them, "A-"

"It's fine, just please talk quieter," Severide interjected.

The group visited with each other as Kelly finished his lunch and a few glasses of water with his pills.

-

Otis had Cruz pushed up against the wall, a hand under his shirt, massaging his hip, as he berated the man's neck.

"Brian," he cried out quietly.

Severide cleared his throat, rubbing his lower back as a clear sign of discomfort.

"I- um. Just need-" He gestured to the bathroom door behind them. The pair moved to the side, Joe blushing profusely and Brian smirking slightly.

The tall brunette shuffled halfway into the room before he turned, wincing as his skin pulled on the bruising.

Cruz reached out two hands to steady him, asking, "Lieutenant, are you okay?"

"Peachy, how- uh, how long has this been goin' on?" Severide leaned against the doorway, wanting nothing more to sit down at that moment.

The couple glanced at each other, both telling their partner to speak first.

"Few days, I guess." Otis finally said. "After you got hurt, I just need to let Joe know how I felt in case something horrible happened."

"Congrats?" Severide squinted at them, his vision was swimming. "Can you get Matt, please? I can't see."

Cruz rushed off, a "right away" thrown over his shoulder.

-days later-

Matt poked Kelly in the hip, shocking him quickly back to the world of awake and alert. "Come on, babe. It's past your bedtime."

He groaned as he was helped off the couch, the TV before them shut off, the game presumably over.

"Did we win?" He asked.

"Yep, 3-2."

After Matt had managed to get Kelly in bed, he sat in the La-Z-Boy and read a book. A knock on the door made him look up from the novel and frown. He glanced at his watch before getting out of the chair.

"Gabby," he said after opening the door.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't want to come because it's so late, but-" She shifted the box in her hands, squeezing past Matt into the open room. "I had this stuff in my car that I forgot to bring, and I'm going out of town, so…"

"Right."

Dawson set the brown box down. Matt crossed his arms and leaned against the counter as she stood awkwardly.

"Severide asleep?"

"Yep."

Gabby stared at a hole in the floor for a few minutes before they heard footfalls coming from Kelly and Matt's room.

"Baby?" Severide called as he entered the living room. "There's no more water in… oh, hey, Dawson. What's up?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together as she halfheartedly pointed to the box on the couch. "I was bringing some stuff I left in my car after Matt's move. But, I know it's late, so I guess I should go."

"Yeah, okay. Bye, Gabby, I'll see you on Monday."

"Mmm-hmm." The door clicks behind her as she leaves.

"She seemed weird." Kelly said, adjusting his grip on the wall. Matt laughs, grabbing a couple of water bottles from the fridge and slinging an arm around his partner.

"Come on, grumpy, lets get you into bed."

Kelly tweaked his head and pouted. "I'm not grumpy."

"Sure, darling." Matt responded sarcastically.

They got into bed; Matt curled protectively around his partner.

you can also read this story here

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masterlist & other such things

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Chicago Fire masterlist

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| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 |

[officialcreepypastareheated]

i love the fact that even after all these years the thought of these two having a sibling level connection (especially after what happened iykyk) still goes strong

i guess i'll bite and say this isnt prevalent in reheated right off the bat, jeff harrison is a really grumpy and closed off guy and slender doesnt like the idea of letting sally near abunch of unstable people, but theres the chance i'll feel nice enough to maybe let something happen!

Sally being the best little sister to Jeff and making him look ✨beautiful✨

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

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[officialcreepypastareheated]

SIIIIIIGH

I need more new Creepypasta friends to talk to about CREEPYPASTAAAAA!!!!!

If you wanna come hang out with me sometime feel free to join my server. (16+ Only)

I'm super active in there and often host events where we just mess around. We also have 2 Minecraft servers, one for casual play and the other thats a full lore centered SMP.

Both are modded and the packs were made with ATLauncher so it has both Modrinth and CurseForge mods.

PLEASE JOIN I NEED MORE FRIENDS TO INFODUMP TO ABOUT CREEPYPASTA AND WE HAVE RP CHANNELS AND PLEASE PELASE PLEASE PLEASE

[adamwitt]

tim sale 1: challengers of the unknown must die (1991)

Mainstream comics were a bit of a wasteland in 1991. Howard Mackie was resurrecting Ghost Rider and starting his path of destruction at Marvel Comics; a period that would later cause them much disrepair. Over in Amazing Spider-Man, Carnage, Venom’s more homicidal and of-the-times counterpart would debut, setting the stage for a bunch of stories no one ever needed to read anyway. On the opposite side of failure, the biggest comic of all time (if you buy into that sort of declaration, or read the sales charts) shipped: X-Men #1, by Chris Claremont and Jim Lee, establishing the tone and tempo that readers would see rehashed, reheated, and overcooked through the next thirty years. The previous paragraph may seem like it’s picking on Marvel. It is, to an extent, but DC wasn’t even publishing anything worth a note here. Do you need to know about the first appearance of Abbatoir? If you do, Bing it. How about Armageddon 2001? There’s probably an out-of-print omnibus you can find on eBay. On the independents, the tide was changing, and cartooning was having its day again. The debuts of Frank, Palookaville, Rubber Blanket, and Bone (Jim Woodring, Seth, David Mazzucchelli, and Jeff Smith, respectively) were coins in the wishing well of comics: “Let’s throw these in, see what happens...” Those coins would later become invaluable to the fabric of comics. One little wave in the well was Challengers of the Unknown Must Die. In 1991, the volume of comics, in the literal and figurative, was too loud and too expansive to sell a book like Challengers (hereafter referred to as CotU). The Direct Market is designed to sell Batman, the X-Men, and just about nothing else. CotU landed with little fanfare, selling on the strength of a Brian Bolland cover on the debut, and force of pure nostalgia. This is not to sell CotU as a high benchmark for comics. There are a ton of truly amazing things happening within the pages. The majority of these are executed by Tim Sale, who made his mainstream debut, and set his first collaboration with Jeph Loeb into motion. Reading CotU in 2022 is an interesting exercise. Does it hold up? Fantastically. Does it present any new ideas? Not necessarily. It finds itself firmly in the tropes of 1980s - 1990s superhero deconstruction, spurred on by the likes of, most importantly, Watchmen. Characters die in the first issue, characters debut in the first issue, and most importantly, Tim Sale does things on the page that would, today, win him incredible numbers of awards and admiration. It is a crying shame that Tim Sale’s work on CotU is overlooked in favor of his Marvel work or the Batman issues. Is it lesser from a script perspective? That could be argued. On Sale’s end, this is a stunningly mature, learned work that executes a lot of ideas in small space; it reads like a good Grant Morrison comic, in a period where Grant Morrison tended a bit darker. The upward moments, the moments of optimism, are understated in Loeb’s script, but delivered in full swing by Sale. As with any comic: this is an artist’s medium; Tim Sale does things on the page in CotU, in the first issue alone, that you will not see replicated in any superhero comic, and will leave you breathless. He executes truly stunning violence with moments of pathos; he balances, deftly, Loeb’s wordy script, with a master’s hand at how much space to leave on the page, where (and most importantly, how) to show off, and when to state business at quiet. The big moments soar, the violence lands like an axe, and we haven’t even gotten to the page layouts. If you publish CotU in 2022, it wins awards for its page layouts alone. In the first issue, we see some of the pencil-and-ink acrobatics Tim Sale would later be a comics-household name for. Pages flip without our hands on them; layouts literally shatter on the page; grids bleed with personality and shine. This is a case where, like American Flagg!, if it had a more robust print run, everyone would’ve been put under its influence. Flagg!, in its time, had the critics. CotU did not. As such, it dies a death to the ravages of age, but remains timeless on a re-read. Sale’s choice to let blood drip down panels into the bottom of the page borders, making sustained images absolutely defy the idiotic arguments that these “shots” are “lazy” (and mind you, this is 1991), and casually chipping parts off of pages, or twisting images into the likes of the aforementioned wishing well waves. CotU is a dazzling and overlooked work of comics genius. It’s easy to call that a 50/50 effort on the parts of Mssrs. Loeb and Sale, but the sharp readers know this: it’s an artist’s medium. Always has been, always will be.

Even in 1991.

[ladykailitha]

only a couple from me this week (today is already a sensory nightmare and i just woke up); i might send in a couple more later tonight but ehhhh don't count on it?

anyway, lick to claim please!

WIP Wednesday! Make me write!

Snippet

Steve blushed. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat, I could have reheated leftovers or something.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a grin.

“This is when we usually eat,” Jeff explained. “We were working on a song for our band earlier.”

“I’m our lyricist,” Eddie said. “Jeff is the composer. He takes my silly little words and turns them into songs.”

Steve nodded. “And you guys play at Cora’s Den?”

“The Hideout and Alleyways, too,” Jeff confirmed. “But yeah, Cora’s Den is our main spot though, which is why Mrs. Hughes pays for this apartment for us to stay at when we’re here.”

[blazehedgehog]

Thoughts on Nintendo making the Super Mario 35 game and 3D All Stars limited physically and even digitally?

It’s legitimately surprising how blind Nintendo is certain things. And even if they aren’t blind, they’re... ignorant, in a sense? Frugal to a fault? They’re dumb. Amazingly dumb. Let’s go with that. That's a nice way to put it.

I tweeted that I’d recently finished replaying Super Mario Sunshine a year or two ago (it took me roughly four years!) and that I’d burned through the PC port of Super Mario 64 not that long ago over the course of a single weekend. And that, because of this, I found it hard to justify paying $60 for the Super Mario 3D All-Stars collection.

I don’t want this to sound like “because I played them for free, I don’t want to buy them.” I already bought and paid for Super Mario Sunshine on the Gamecube, and I own at least two, maybe even three copies of Super Mario 64 (original cart, Wii VC, Wii U VC). That's because Super Mario 64 is also one of the most influential games of all time. I know I say that a lot, but I'll repeat it as many times as I need to. Any third person action game made in the last 25 years owes something to what Super Mario 64 figured out -- analog character movement, how to set up the camera, all of it. Even if Super Mario 64 didn’t invent everything about 3D character movement, it probably still figured out a better way to do it. All modern game design roads lead back to that game. I will absolutely buy another copy of Super Mario 64.

But you have to do it right.

If you aren’t matching or or exceeding the work that fans are doing for free, then you are asking me to pay money for a worse quality product.

I can play Super Mario 64 at wide screen, in 4K, at 60fps, with modern camera controls, thanks to the PC port. It sounds cleaner, and it looks better than the N64 game did. Even if you subtract the recreated textures and the high-def models and just play the game with the original assets, it’s still running smoother and plays tighter, but still feels like Super Mario 64.

A case could be made that these enhancements to Super Mario 64 are pretty big and would require lots of new work and testing (as if Nintendo couldn’t just account for that). But, then, what about Super Mario Sunshine? Now, the All-Stars version has been updated to run in widescreen, sure, but even more could be done without messing anything up.

Super Mario Sunshine as it shipped on the Gamecube ran at 30fps, but that’s not always how the game was shown. For a large portion of its development, Super Mario Sunshine actually ran at 60fps. At some point, Nintendo decided to cap it at 30fps, likely because it couldn't maintain a stable 60. Using the emulator Dolphin, and the right Gameshark/Gecko code modifier, it’s possible to restore Sunshine’s original 60fps framerate.

All the game logic under the hood was probably always running at 60fps, it’s just they capped the rendering at 30 for the final game. And yet, the All-Stars version seemingly retains the 30fps cap, even though the Switch could probably do 60fps in this game with both joycons tied behind its back.

For a company that constantly oversteps their boundaries when it comes to fighting the threat of piracy, they sure seem to be making an excellent case for why people should pirate their games, because they’re lowballing things like this and expecting consumers to gobble it up. Thank you Mister Nintendo, sir, for this generous offering of reheated table scraps.

No other extras, no other bonuses. You get these three games and a soundtrack player. Development history? Alternate versions, like Super Mario 64 DS? What about archival material? Concept art, or anything like that? A lot of people are over the moon about Nintendo history right now thanks to the Gigaleak. No? You’re not going to provide anything interesting or cool? Just a bare bones collection of three games presented basically as-is? Not even Super Mario Galaxy 2? Can't be too generous, after all. It's only been 35 years, and Mario's just one of the biggest, most important franchises in all of gaming. Gotta save Galaxy 2 for the, uh... next 3D Mario collection...?

The whole release date thing is just the final slap in the face. It’s Nintendo creating their own artificial scarcity. This is something I’ve picked up on regarding t-shirts -- I run a Redbubble store with shirts I’ve done, and the sales have never been stellar. In four or five years, I’ve made something like $18. Total.

Why? Because they’re always available. The few times I’ve actually encouraged sales a little bit is when I suggested some shirts might be getting retired, eventually. And when you think about it, that’s the entire crux of something like The Yetee. Either you buy this shirt right now, right here, today, or it goes away and may never come back. Limited edition stuff boosts sales because it forces people to make a decision.

It also boosts a festering aftermarket, where, because people know this is a limited edition thing, they can effectively “buy stock” that will effectively collect interest over time. Buy them at $60 now, mark them up for $80, or $90, or $120+ in a year or three. But then all that does is create a scenario where legitimate customers aren’t going to be able to buy the product, because the people who flip these in the aftermarket will have spent $1500 hoping to make a return of $2500-$3000.

You saw this with Amiibo. You saw it with the NES Classic and SNES Classic. It is TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY and every store front worth a penny allows “third party sellers.” Everything is Ebay now. Wal-mart, Newegg, Best Buy, Amazon, Target, whatever. You name a major retail brand, and they probably let some random goober scalp aftermarket products out of their garage. In many states, scalping tickets is banned, but online this is just “business.” I’m sure Jeff Bezos is elated you spent $230 on a Squid Sisters Amiibo double pack (original MSRP: $30). You don’t get to be the richest man in the world by forcing your best moneymakers to play fair.

Nintendo has taken many notes. The bare minimum of effort, for full price, and “oh, gosh, you better buy it now! It might not ever come back! The faster you give us your money, the better!”

Go jump in a lake. I get better and more features in an emulator and I can play these games right now, today, if I really wanted to. If you aren’t going to offer competitive features and business, then our conversation is over.

[pjbehindthesun]

Sooo... the reheated soup seems to be an obvious reference about the thing between Red and Stoner but maybe there's a twist in it and it means Jeff's and Lucy's make up (or out) attempt. The cold pizza refers to Mike, as we know, he works as a pizza guy. Maybe, he has to deliver an order and due to some vis maior circumstances (a.k.a. Selene) he's not able to make it on time. The butchered mango is either the victim of Lucy's anger or a feature of THE DATE (I googled on the slicing techniques).

you're partially correct (as usual, according to your laser sharp intuition) but of course I can't tell you where...

[jeffreystewart]

Challenge Day 288 Year 5

Pete had worked in a pizzeria for a long time. He’d really liked it. Moving from chef to chef collecting and baking their pizzas. But it wasn’t as much fun as his current office job. Sure the pizzas were reheated, and people would occasionally ask him to bake things outside his settings. But he enjoyed interacting with a lot more people.

What I used: Muji Light Blue 0.275mm nib pen on Leuchtturm Sketchbook. What this is: Daily Character Design Challenge, 2020-03-08 Year 5 - No288, by Jeff Stewart

[smarkling]

Jaehyun was restless, he couldn't close his eyes to rest. It had been a week since you left, it wasn't your fault, though. You just wanted to spend the last time you're gonna be in Seoul, with him and his buddies, who had been your close friends as well, especially Mark. Jaehyun knew he fucked up, he knew it was his fault that you left early. You had planned to continue your masters degree in Germany, and live with your twin brother, Maxime. Jaehyun got up from his bed, fumbling through the drawer where you used to put your things in, but there wasn't much left since you had emptied your side of the wardrobe, and the drawer too. You only left him the polaroid album that you had made for his birthday last month. Jaehyun went through the album, feeling heavy, guilty, regrets, and heartbroken. He still remember the way you look when you walked out the dorm, he still remember the pain that went through your eyes that made him shiver.

It was the last day of promotion for Kick It, you wanted to prepare dinner for the group, with the help of the dorm's auntie. You knew that they worked really hard for this comeback so you really want them to know how you appreciate them and that you're proud of their work. You help the auntie set up the table, you placed the dishes, the spoons, chopsticks, the plates, you had everything set up nicely. You told their managers and Mark to come directly to the dorm, you wanted to surprise Jaehyun, you wanted to show your appreciation for his work, which is a huge success for them. You waited on the couch, Mark said they should arrive 30 minutes ago, the auntie left about 10 minutes ago, she wasn't going to leave actually, but you made her leave, convincing her that you'll do okay with the dishes. You called Mark, but he didn't pick up, then you decided that it'll be okay to text him asking where he is and when will they arrive. You waited again, this time you sat on the dining area. You texted Mark again

call me when you're 10 minutes away, i gotta reheat the dishes so you guys can eat. xoxo

You didn't realize that you dozed off on the dining area, with your head in your palms. You jumped up when the door was opened, they were still chit-chatting when they entered, but turned into a halt when they saw you in the dining area, with a table full of dishes . "Oh, fuck" Mark whispered loudly, "Hi, I made dinner?" you stood up slowly, hesitating. "Why didn't you say anything about preparing dinner? We ate already" Jaehyun said with a bitter tone, shuffling past Mark and Yuta to go to his room. Jaehyun had been so sour about your plan to leave the country, but those bitter words cut you deeper than ever before. You shut your mouth as Jaehyun slammed his door, looking down to the floor, you took a deep breath and tried to smile as Mark approached you and made you sit. "I'm sorry, I-I kinda forgot about this and then we w-went drinki-" he stuttered, unable to look up to your eyes, "I texted you a while ago, but it's okay, you guys can just eat this whenever" You smiled, putting your hands on top of Mark's trembling ones.

You got up and went to Jaehyun's bedroom, knocking softly. "Jaehyun?" You opened the door, slowly letting yourself in, "Hey I know you're still mad about Germany, it's okay I get it, I know that it is hard for you," Jaehyun didn't budge, laying on his bed with his back facing you, "and the dinner, you guys can eat it whenever you want" . You took a step closer to his bed, sitting on the edge, you put your hand on his shoulder lightly, "Just go, you're going to leave anyway, don't make this harder for me than it already is" Jaehyun said, bitterness and anger can be heard through his voice, "Can I stay for a moment?" You hesitated, "I said you can go, leave now or I will" Jaehyun said, finally turned his back to face you, red with so much anger written on his face. You took a few step back, holding back the tears that's threatening to fall, "It's okay, I'll go now, I'll be here tomorrow to pack up my things" You stepped out of the room, not forgetting to take your bags, but left the polaroid camera behind.

Jaehyun's head is filled with all the what if's, what if he had been at the dorm, convincing you not to leave when you went back to pack up your things, instead of getting a coffee with Johnny to a shop one hour away. What if he didn't said those horrible things that broke both yours and his heart into pieces. Well, he might still have you here, spending your last week with him laying around at the dorm. Flipping through the last pages of the album, a piece of paper fell, it was your handwriting.

J, no matter how tired, angry, broken I am, my love for you lasts forever, just like these polaroids, capturing our little moments together into forever.

Seoul, 14 February 2020

As he reads the letter over and over again, tears stream down his eyes. It was his fault that it is now over between the both of you, he was the one who told you to leave. You had been the best thing that happened to him, and now he lost everything since the night you walked out of his door.