#like clearly the shit I’ve been doing isn’t working so maybe I do need to start taking more drastic measures like finding a new job

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[polyamorouspunk]

Hug

Hug

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Monsters walk at night (Monster!Price x f!reader)

Another one for @glitterypirateduck Price writing challenge!

Scenarios used, 16. ‘A Pursuit takes place’ and 44. 'A world where mates exist':

Warnings: monster fucking, NSFW, unprotected p in v, partial smut, literally getting chased down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off as an innocent walk through the woods by the large cabin Price had rented, (seemed more like a house when you saw it), stating you all needed a break. He had distributed the rooms when you all had arrived, securing the perimeter and making sure the security cameras and alarm system worked. You remember the day clearly.

The fridge was fully stocked as were the bathrooms, all the amenities needed for a few days stay away from civilization. You walked into the kitchen getting ready to make some food, the drive there was long and you were absolutely starving. “What are ye plannin ta make and can I have some because I am famished.” You turned to find Johnny strolling into the kitchen. “Well I wasn’t offering to make dinner just looking for a snack, but it’d be a shame to have the cabin burn down.” Johnny groans from the table, “It was one time bonnie! Was nae like I was plannin on burnin the place up!” “Johnny you set the place ablaze tryin to make CUP OF SOUP!” “I was tired!”

Price walked in shaking his head as Ghost and Gaz came in behind him chuckling. Simon piped up, “So you makin food or not?” You roll your eyes, “I’ll make a steaming pile of dog shit just for you Ghost.” “Make sure it has garlic and potatoes, yeah?” After dinner was decided on, (not dog shit), everyone settled in for the night with the exception of you and John. “Fancy a walk luv? There are lights on the trails.” You think about it for a minute and nod, “Sure. Seems like a nice night, gotta walk off that meal too.” You both chuckle and walk outside, the night warm so there was no need for jackets.

You both had been walking for about 20 minutes, the scenery beautiful and calming, making small talk as the scent of Price’s cigar smoke wafts around in the night air. The light from the cigars burning tip gave Price’s already attractive features a boost, almost making him look scary in the dark of the woods. “You know, I could use a bit more exercise. Up for a chase?” You look at him confused as he takes a hit from his cigar and blows the smoke upwards, the red embers showing in his eyes.

He leans closer as you take a step back, his eyes gleaming, his teeth seeming sharper. “Run.” That was all you needed as you took off into the trees. You don’t know how long you ran before you finally heard his boots hitting the ground behind you. He was far but not by much, the sound of his boots thudding loudly, almost like he was heavier now. You had briefly stopped behind a large rock but continued when you heard his voice ring through the forest, loud and strange. “Run all you want sweetheart. I can smell you from a mile away.”

You had barely made it to a clearing when you were tackled from behind. You managed to turn over, finding Price but he looked different. Horns protruded from his head, a spiked tail swaying behind him, teeth razor sharp and eyes glowing like the flames of hell. “Caught you darling. Smelled you the second you started running. Getting chased down turn you on?” You blushed, turning your head away. Sure you had always found Price attractive, you knew he wasn’t totally human, and maybe you had some disrespectfully spicy dreams about him, so who could blame you for being turned on.

He nudged your cheek before moving to your neck, inhaling your scent. “My mate.” “What?” “You’re my mate luv. Smelled it the second you walked onto base.” “ O-oh, um I-“ “Do you accept? I may be a monster but I’m not an asshole. I’ve seen your dreams, heard your whispers.” “This isn’t a joke right? Because…I love you, have for a while and if this is some weird or cruel joke just so you can get laid it’s not funny.”

His eyes widened, stunned. “You think so low of me? That I would make a joke of something so serious?” You shake your head no and he sighs in relief. Nuzzling into your neck, he licks and groans as he tastes your flesh mixed with sweat. “Do you accept?” You nod, “Words, dearest.” “I accept.” A rumble forms in his chest as you kiss him and you both begin to undress. You had felt the bulge of him rubbing against your thigh through the talk and it had you needy.

To say he was large was an understatement as you openly stared at the size of him. “It’ll fit fine luv, no worries.” You nodded hesitantly, “Please be gentle.” He kisses you to smooth your nerves as he slowly pushes in, catching all your pretty noises in his mouth. “That’s it darling. You were made to take me.” He was only half way in but you already felt so full of him but he continued to slip inside unhindered. When his hips finally connected with your’s he left out a drawn out moan into the night air and pulled back slowly. “I hope you’re ready sweetheart, because it’s about to be a long night.” Running a hand over the obvious bulge in your skin, you clench and that’s enough to get him started.

The night is spent surrounded by the sound of his hips meeting your’s, breathy moans, the name of your captain loud on your lips and hands firmly gripping his horns for the ride. He didn’t let up until the sun had almost broken the horizon, both of you spent and newly mated.

[igotanidea]

First choice : Jason Todd x fem!reader

Summary: you don;t know what you have until it's (almost) gone.

A/N: this is lightly based on one particular scene from "little women". If you watched it, you'll know.

Warnings: usual Jason ones - swearing and a bit of angst. Apart from that fluff.

***

„Don’t leave with him.”

„I’m sorry?”

“Don’t. Leave. With. him.”

“And why exactly shouldn’t I?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, putting down the t-shirt she was folding before packing it into the suitcase. She was supposed to leave Gotham. Most probably – for good.

And she was not doing this alone.

She was about to go with Tom, the guy she met a couple months ago at work. At first, there was nothing but friendly feeling between them, but he clearly wanted more. So once he got a promotion and was posted to the branch of the company, he went as far as asking the CEO to second Y/N with him. And that got the girl slowly falling for Tom as well and convinced her to give him a chance. Since then, they have been on a couple dates and shared some innocent kisses but this acquaintance was promising. Finally Y/N found someone who would treat her right, who would give her peace, unlike the bats. Of course she loved all the Waynes , but it was a nervous lifestyle and it was slowly taking toll on her health.  

And that’s how Y/N ended up picking up her clothes, getting ready to take off and leave everyone and everything behind.

Leaving Jason.

“Why Jace?” she repeated scanning his face “Tom likes me and I like him. Maybe we can work things out between us. Shit, I hope we work things out, cause he might be my only chance for getting in a good relationship.”

“That is bullshit!” Jason exclaimed “You know that! That fucker is doing nothing more than encircling you like a prey! You mean nothing to him.”

“How dare you?!” she took a few steps towards him raising hand, almost slapping him across the face but stopping in the last second. “Nah.” Her eyes flashed “that’s what you want, isn’t it? You play your games, you want to mess with my head. Well, it’s not gonna work.”

“You’re gonna die out of boredom with him.  He doesn’t know a single thing about you. For your last birthday he bought you a ticket to the rap show! You hate rap! And one time he took to the restaurant with sea food, which you are allergic to! He’s ordinary! And you know you need thrill! You need night actions! You need working with Babs, with bats, with Red. That’s who you are. ” Before she could move away he grabbed her wrist in an iron clad  grip. “

“Let go of me.” She hissed warningly

“No.”

“I said…. Let. Go. Of. Me.”

“And I said no.” their eyes met and this war of nerves and tensed gazes made them both shiver. It was like a lightning between them. The question was, who was going to give in first. “I can’t do that……” he whispered

“Why?!” she cried out “Why are you trying to destroy my only chance for happiness?!”

“Your …. Only chance? Fuck! Y/N are you serious!?”

“YES! For God’s sake, you do nothing but cause havoc! It’s been like that for our whole life!” she yanked free of his hold and moved a few steps back.

“You deserve someone better!”

“Huh. Really? Someone like you, Jason? Someone who will give my heart attacks every night? Someone who will make me worried and creating scenarios of getting hurt, injured, captured or killed? Someone who will ignore me, cut me out, won’t talk to me, keep me in the dark?”

“Princess.”

“Stop calling me that….” She sobbed and started punching his chest. “Why can’t you just let go?”

“You know why….”

“You are being mean. This is not fair!”

“How am I  being unfair here?!” he shouted “ME? How can you even say that? I’ve spend half of my life loving you and yet, I’ve always been a second choice for you! How do you think that feels?!”

“What…..? But….?” She stuttered but now he was on the roll.

“Let me remind you. You were 20 when the first guy broke your heart and …..”

“You broke my heart first!”

“What…..?” now it was his turn to stutter

“I cried at your funeral, Jason! I mourned you after you got buried! I was in deep depression for months. Don’t you think that leaves a scar?!”

“But I came back. I came back to you!”

“It doesn’t mean anything!  It’s in the past. It’s too late. And don’t say you care, cause you are just acting selfish, as always.”

‘No. No princess. This is not how this Is gonna go. If you need a memory refresher, here we go. When your first boyfriend broke your heart, who was it that hold you, hugged you and did not let go for the whole night you were crying on the couch? Who was there for you? Say it!”

“You were.”

“Yes. And then the next day you were just acting like nothing happened. You run back to him the second he called to apologize. Don’t you think that hurt me?”

“Jace….”

“And every other time when you were broken, scared, worried, shaking in fear or pain who was there for you? Who picked up the pieces? And even then you were always looking up to Dick! My freaking brother! Tell me something, Y/N” he came closer, and she had no way to run, cornered, “why am I always second best for you? Why?”

“Fuck!” she yelled and without any hesitation pushed herself into him locking his lips, letting all the anger, passion and craving for him out. At first he was taken aback, a bit, and the first thought that came to his mind was that he was going to end up alone and played by her again, but the way her body aligned with his, so damn close, so damn perfect got him crumbling. Out of instinct, he took a step forward, trapping her between the wall and his body, grasping her neck and tangling hand in her soft hair, the other gripping her hip pulling her closer. “you were never….” She gasped pulling for air “you were never second….. fuck, Jason.” Y/N fisted his jacket with a mix of anger and frustration.

“Don’t leave with him” he begged caressing her back, desperate to keep her with him, desperate enough to swallow his pride and get on his knees “I don’t want  you to leave. Please Y/N. Stay. Stay with me.” He nudged her nose with his, mouth hanging open, brushing over hers, so damn close,  wanting nothing but to kiss her again, but at the same time unable to.

‘I’m tired of playing games, Jace…..” she whispered closing her eyes.

“This is not a game, you know it….”

“Then say it. Say it to prove it to me.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I was so scared of this feeling. For so fucking long.”

“And now….?”

“Now I want you. If you’ll take me…’ he couldn’t hide that pleading tone in his voice. He was begging her to want him, to need him.  So desperate to not be tossed away like a used cloth, to not be forgotten and abandoned, not again. He begged her to love him back.

“I will.” Tears started falling down her cheeks. “I…. I will….I love you too, Jace…..” She sobbed and her whole body shook because of that. “But….” She swallowed hard and took a sharp inhale “Promise me you won’t hurt me. Promise me you won’t break my heart. Promise me you’ll love me right and won’t hide things from me….. please….I don’t want to be hurt again…..”

“Oh, baby….” He wrapped his strong arms around her, engulfing her in his warmth, hiding his own tear-stained face in her hair, kissing her head repeatedly. Only now he realized that they were both equally broken, life in Gotham and their past making them so similar. They were both scared of being alone, unloved. Having that belief that all life would offer them was scraps. “I swear. I swear to you……” he struggled to say those words because of the lump in his throat. ”you are my first choice too….” Jason added and her arms tightened around his waist. “will you stay now?”

“Yes….” She pulled back and looked into his eyes, filled with hope, relief, love and care, just like hers. “I’ll deal with tom later, but now… can you just hold me like this more? I need this. I need you.”

“You have me, baby. I’m yours. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of the man who wanted to take you away from me…..”

“I seriously hope that’s not a death threat, Red.” She laughed lightly and it was the prettiest sound Jason ever heard.

“Can’t make any promises on that…..”

[two-sibyls-tall]

I bullet-point planned out a batfam fanfic aWHILE ago but I am Bad At Writing full-fledged stories so I’m going to just throw it out in the open here in the hopes that ya’ll will appreciate it, and also that mayhaps someone else who is Good At Writing will find it and make it.

So. Here’s my take on a Reverse!Robins Dimensional Travel fic.

Damian:

Starts off with Robin!Damian seeing a black-robed uniform that’s awfully similar to the League of Assassins gear. Which is. Worrying. to see in Gotham.

Robin!Damian sneaks up on him to figure out wtf he’s doing.

Nightwing!Damian, aka the black-robed figure, calls him out. Possibly even makes an offhanded joke about how R!Damian shouldn’t be wearing bright ass colors if he didn’t want to be seen.

R!Damian catches sight of the Nightwing logo on N!Damian’s chest and proceeds to demand who he is

N!Damian recognizes R!Damin’s pattern of speech and essentially goes “oh fuck”. Reveals himself as Nightwing, aka Damian Wayne.

R!Damian immediately thinks of the Heretic. He calls for backup in code via comm link.

N!Damian is on the same comm channel, so he hears the responses to the code even if he doesn’t recognize the code itself. He’s semi-annoyed and starts running

R!Damian is IN PURSUIT.

N!Damian gets yoinked back to hid own dimension

R!Damian meets up with Nightwing!Dick and says something along the lines of “the assailant disappeared but who tf was that.”

Jason:

It’s a couple days later now.

Red Robin!Tim has already started working on a multiverse-type theory and let Red Hood!Jason know, so honestly RH!Jason isn’t terribly surprised when he comes across a vaguely familiar vigilante beating the shit out of a criminal in Crime Alley.

New vigilante introduces himself as Redbird

RH!Jason goes across comms to ask Tim how tf he should be handling this shit?

Redbird visibly freezes up when RR! does the classic “no names in the field” chastise

RH!Jason straight up asks Redbird if he can hear the comms bc who needs to be subtle.

When Redbird confirms, he just sorta sighs and gives a code to O. There’s a bit of yelling while the team processes the possibility of compromised comms.

It calms down again, and RR!Tim is like “okay the evidence is pretty clear here if you ask me,, Redbird I think you’re from another dimension. Do you recognize any of us?”

Redbird is like “well I’ve only actually caught one of your guys’s names so far, but yes I. Know. a Tim. He doesnt sound like you anymore, though”

RH!Jason is like ‘hmm we’re gonna put a pin in that one for now’

Meanwhile RR!Tim is talking to Redbird about going to the batcave and also maybe running some tests to figure out where they’re coming from and what’s going on here

Redbird shrugs and mentions that this whole situation sorta seems like what his brother was talking about a few seconds before he jumped dimensions.

“Is your brother Damian Wayne, aka Nightwing?”

“Fuck. Yeah, that’s him.”

At this point RH!Jason connects the dots an goes “ah shit, you’re me aren’t you.”

Redbird!Jason gives the most dramatic eye-roll possible and is like “bro we went from Redbird to Red Hood? That’s so lame. Why’d we even change it.”

RH!Jason just looks at him. “No dude we went from Robin to Red Hood. because we died.”

“NEWS TO ME???”

They've been heading to the batcave during this conversation

They walk in and RR!Tim's already there and he's like "Jason stop freaking out mini you this is clearly a different universe he might not even die."

Redbird!Jason is completely frozen staring at (unmasked) Tim and just kinda whispers "Tim?" And then he gets yoinked back to his universe.

Tim and Jason look at each other and Jason's like "so that's definitely not a good sign for what happened to you in their universe, right?"

Dick:

Nightwing!Dick is in the Batcave w/ most of the family discussing the dimension travel shit when he suddenly feels like he's being watched

He puts the meeting on pause and the feeling increases and he just looks straight up and sees golden eyes staring at him from the rafters

The other Batfamily members in attendance also look up and go what !! the fuck !!

NW!Dick knows about the whole 'Haly's circus being a theoretical breeding ground for the Court of Owls' thing bc I said so, so he already feels like he knows whats goin on

before anyone can say anything he just clears his throat and says "Gray Son?"

Batfamily freezes in shock and the small child w/ gold eyes just tilts his head in recognition and then jumps down from the rafters w/ no hesitation

He lands right next to NW!Dick and stands at attention, and Dick kinda feels sick bc Talon!Dick is like 8 years old

NW!Dick looks at the batfamily and makes some joke of like "haha looks like it’s my turn for the alternate dimension encounter"

RR!Tim is already taking notes

Bruce's put it all together and he's like "fuck. Little you is a Talon."

Cue the batfamily losing their shit again

Talon!DIck is looking between all of them confused, and he notices Damian just deadlock staring at him, and he's like Oh!! I know this one !!! so he stares back

RR!Tim is like "okay fantastic, well between Talon and Nightwing!Damian I think I can confidently guess by now that their dimension is one where all of our ages are reversed. Hey Talon do u wanna confirm that."

Talon is Very Helpful and nods, and Nightwing!Dick is like "alright buddy do you wanna tell us about ur dimension"

Except Talon doesnt really talk but !! he does sign!! his big sister cass has been teaching him sign !!

NW!Dick is like “thats great!! I know sign!!” and he starts relaying info to RR!Tim so he can take notes while Talon talks

Talon tells him that Tim From His Universe (and Dick isnt going to unpack yet why Tim’s namesign is a T drawn in the shape of a smile) has also put together that they’re going to a different universe

He says there was a case that the 4 nightshift batboys were on (girls were working a different case, Batman is offworld) w Oracle leading ofc that was selling alien technology

he says the 4 nightshift batboys were hit w a beam that didnt seem to do anything, but Tim of His Universe thinks that beam just had a slower affect and is what’s causing this

He says his big brother damian was the first to just randomly disappear mid mission and it gave Talon a scare bc they were together at the time, so he just froze and waited for damian to come back

and when Damian did, he immediately relayed what happened over comms, and a couple seconds later Redbird wasnt responding either

at this point RR!Tim interrupts and is like “are u saying urs all happened the same day? bc its been like a couple weeks since NW!Damian came here and several days since Redbird”

Talon just kinda shrugs and is like “well keep an eye out for Tim Of My Universe next bc he was hit too”

At this point NW!Tim is like “hey bud. why u. Why u using that name sign for Tim?”

Talon’s is about to respond when he gets yoinked back to his universe as well

Tim gives a mildly hysterical laugh and is like “well that’s not foreboding at all!!!”

Tim:

RR!Tim doesnt actually notice when JJ!Tim comes in this universe, bc at this point JJ!Tim has figured it out as well and is like “alright well the kid hasnt been jokerized so why traumatize him if I dont have to”

but unfortunately JJ!Tim IS spotted by a random passerby who mistakes him for the Joker so the whole batfamily’s out soon anyway looking for him

Hood finds JJ!Tim first and is like “alright i got eyes on him and im in pursuit,, hes kinda dressed weird tho wtf”

JJ!Tim hears this over comms and is like ‘welp now or never’ so he talks over the comms too (while running from Hood) and is like “hey I might be in the wrong universe, any way I could talk to one Tim Drake”

RR!Tim is like “Fuck dude really. rn? with a joker breakout? this is a bad time”

JJ!Tim responds w like “ur telling me, dude, Im the one being chased by a homicidal maniac w a red bucket on his head”

“YOU’RE THE GUY DRESSED LIKE THE JOKER?”

“THE JOKER IS STILL ALIVE HERE?”

JJ!Tim does NOT take this news well and he stops running, Hood catches up but doesnt engage bc ur telling me this is Tim?? this is RR?? tf happened?? but he does relay over comms that JJ is laughing and it is freaking him tf out bc he sounds EXACTLY like the Joker so SOMEONE get over here before Jason goes full Pit Rage

RR!Tim does arrive and immediately recognizes his own features despite the green hair and green eyes and bleached skin and Absolutely Terrifying Smile what the FUCK happened

JJ calms down just enough to be like “Oh I get it. This universe is age reversal so it also changed who the Joker got, too”

Hood looks like hes about to be sick, Tim’s not far behind

JJ’s like “great! well I’m Joker Junior, occasionally known as Tim Drake, and in my universe I was brainwashed by the Joker, then killed him and myself!! but apaprently the universe wasnt a fan of that because then I woke up in an UNMARKED GRAVE and wandered around for awhile, got dunked in a lazarus pit, and am overall having a terrible time”

At this point NW!Dick and Robin!Damian are here too and they’re like jfc dude

JJ looks down at his wrist like theres a watch there (there’s not) and is like “alright well according to my calculations, I shouldnt be here much longer, since most of my time was spent hiding & then running from ya’ll in order to NOT have this confrontation but look how well that worked out. Anyway u guys should kill the joker,, who knows if he might get inspiration from my universe and torture little timmy over there,, anyway ta ta” and then he fuckin disappears

Red Hood is like “yep ok im gonna go murder a clown” and no one really moves to go stop him

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 5/? WIP

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR

PART FIVE

                They have a date. Legitimate plans with an actual day and time to meet in less than two days’ time. He doesn’t get why he’s so nervous, because they can clearly talk each other’s ears off, and find each other attractive. But there’s the fact that Bradley could have anyone. Jake’s never been one to lack when it comes to self-esteem or confidence, but he’s pretty sure he’s allowed to feel a little intimidated. He’s good at what he does, but he isn’t rich and famous. His lifestyle and career don’t lend themselves to being a present boyfriend. Not that he’s ever really tried before.

                He’d said he was looking for something a bit heavier than a one-night stand, but he’s not sure what he and Bradley are going to achieve in under four weeks when his leave is over. He guesses they’re probably going to have to talk about it, which leaves his stomach feeling unbearably queasy. Trying a relationship with a normal person has never worked out for him before, trying one with someone whose lifestyle is so vastly different from his own, that can only be more challenging. Not that he ever backs down from a challenge, but…

                Shit.

                He’s going to end up spiraling. What he really needs is to talk to Javy, have someone to either bring him back to Earth or slap some sense into him. Maybe both. Except he doesn’t want to share the fact that he’s been talking to the real Bradley Bradshaw without checking with Bradley first and he hasn’t even gone more than an hour without wanting to call him. Maybe a message is better, won’t disturb him if he’s busy doing something. Although, if what Neil had been grumbling about Bradley has been haunting his own house and mooning over his phone.

                Mooning over Jake.

                Okay. Maybe things aren’t as dire as he thought. What is Mama Machado always telling him, not to go borrowing trouble?

>>Can I tell me best friend about you?

                He goes and makes himself something to eat, refuses to stare at his phone just waiting for Bradley to answer. It buzzes on the coffee table and he lets himself ignore it for all of ten seconds before he’s rushing to pick it up, can’t help the grin when he sees it’s Bradley messaging him back.

>>Didn’t you already?

>>Yeah well, but now I can tell him it’s actually you. For real.

>>Oh. Yeah. Of course. Tell him I say hi.

>>Okay?

>>Only polite.

>>I want your friends to like me.

                Jakes snorts and then he’s flushes with the realization that Bradley thinks this, whatever it is, is going to last long enough that they’re going to meet each other’s friends. Sure he’s meeting Bradley at his house, and meeting Neil and Callie because they live with Bradley, but… Okay. He’s no longer catastrophizing everything in his own head. Bradley is worried about making a good impression. That’s fucking adorable.

>>They’ll like you fine. Probably think you’re too nice for me.

>>Well.

>>They’d be wrong. I can be an asshole when I want to be.

>>I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

>>Me too. 36 hours or so right?

>>Yeah. Bring an overnight bag.

>>I have plenty of spare rooms.

                Jake’s grinning at his phone, his reflection distorted in the screen and he doesn’t fucking care. Bradley has a lot more to lose than him and he’s just laying it all out on the table.

>>And if I don’t want to?

>>Don’t want to what?

>>Sleep in a spare room.

>>Is it the sleeping part or the spare room part you’re having issue with?

>>Both to be honest.

>>Well, I’ll see what I can do about those when I see you.

>>Well, now I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

>>Good. I’ve got to go, Neil is making me do a workout and says I’m wasting precious seconds talking to you.

>>Go. Don’t want you getting in trouble.

>>Yeah. Not like he can ground me, but he does know where I sleep.

                Jake bites his lip and feels like he’s so glad no one can see him right now, because soon he’ll also know where Bradley sleeps, will be sharing the space with him. His stomach has gone from feeling queasy to sheer unbridled excitement, the adrenaline high of knowing something good is coming his way. He feels a lot more settled having had the brief conversation, his cheeks aching a little from the fact he’s been smiling so much. He thumbs through to Javy’s contact and presses the call icon.

                “Jake. Hey man. Everything okay?”

                “Yeah. Everything’s great. Fine. Peachy.” There’s nothing on the other end but silence and Jake pulls a face, because he does actually mean it, and he doesn’t need Javy to talk sense into him any more, but he does want to share this new development with his best friend. “How are you?”

                “I’m good. Waiting for my best –”

                “I have a date with Bradley Bradshaw,” Jake interrupts, unable to hold back.

                “Uh… you mean the guy pretending to be Bradley Bradshaw right?”

                “No. The actual real one.”

                “Jake. I can’t tell if you’re trying to take the piss or you’re actually meeting up with this weird guy you’ve been chatting with…”

                “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Both. It’s both. Wait. No it’s not. I’m serious. The guy is actually Bradley Bradshaw and we’ve been, uh, you know, chatting, for the last couple of weeks…”

                “Chatting? Flirting you mean…”

                “Yeah. And more.”

                “Oh holy shit… wait. How do you know it’s actually him?”

                “Video call. And then another video call…” Jake supplies, thinking back to

                “I… don’t think I’m going to ask for details.”

                “Good call,” Jake says with a slightly hysterical laugh, because he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

                “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

                “Yeah. I was kind of freaking out a little. Not any more.”

                “Oh my god. You really like him…”

                “So what if I do? I just…”

                “Yeah. He already likes you back. Enough to be chatting with you for over two weeks.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So, you need to stop freaking the fuck out. He already likes you.”

                “Yeah, he does… but I’m not freaking out. Not anymore.”

                “Only you though. Getting a date with a Hollywood star through a fucking dating app. Pure dumb luck.”

                “Pure talent all the way through.”

                “Yeah. Talent for bullshit.”

…            …            …

                Bradley has to work, interviews and some media appearances which is why they’ve had to delay meeting until tomorrow. He’s been gifted with Bradley’s home address, surprised to find it in Capistrano Beach, which makes him less than an hour away. It means Jake doesn’t have to fight through LA traffic. He adds it to his list of questions he wants to ask, although it’s behind the list of things he wants to do. Of course, he’ll follow Bradley’s lead, but if it’s up to him he’s going to shoot for the stars. Or this one star in particular.

                A knock to his door startles him, because he’s not expecting anyone, plus he’s in temporary base housing so it’s not like a lot of people know where he is. He opens it to find Maverick standing there, peering at him through the screen door which Jake pushes open with his other hand.

                “Maverick. Hi. What are you doing here?”

                “Just thought I’d pop in and surprise you…”

                “Uh. Okay. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?” Jake offers, stepping back and watching with a little confusion as Maverick takes his boots off and shrugs off his jacket.

                “What have you got?”

                “Uh… not a lot to be honest. Some beer or water?”

                “No bottles of vodka or whiskey lying around?”

                “Uh, no. Sorry?”

                It’s not even midday. Why the fuck would Maverick want vodka or whiskey. Hell, even beer at this time of day is unusual.

                “Hmm. So… what have you been doing during your leave so far?”

                Jake opens his mouth, blinks, shuts his mouth.

                “What?”

                “What have you been up to?”

                “Just… hanging out. Why?”

                “No… drug fuelled orgies or parties which you don’t remember the next day?”

                “What the fuck?”

                “Huh. Kids these days are so boring.”

                “Mav, are you okay?”

                Surely Mav is too old to be having a midlife crisis? Jake wouldn’t know, not being that fucking old.

                “I’m good. Fine. Just… thought I’d come and get to know you better.”

                “Uh…” Would it be rude to ask why? And why it was alcohol and drug fueled parties he asked about first? “What did you want to know?” Jake asks carefully.

                “Did you know I have a godson? Little bit older than you.”

                “No. I didn’t know that.”

                “Do you have a good relationship with you parents kid?”

                Jake grits his teeth and reminds himself that Maverick doesn’t mean to be disrespectful by calling him kid. To Maverick he is a kid probably, and he just said he had a godson older than Jake. Also Jake does not have a good relationship with his family and he really prefers not to talk about it.

                “No. I don’t. They’re… it’s complicated. Lets just say it’s best if I don’t darken their door.”

                Maverick’s eyes snap up at that, he sees a flash of something, wishes he knew Maverick better so he could figure out what it was.

                “Is it the gay thing?”

                “Definitely doesn’t help,” Jake sighs, wonders where the hell this is going and is suddenly linking it with the alcohol and drug fueled orgy questions and he pulls back slightly. “Uh. What’s with you? Why the sudden interest?”

                “Oh. Well. Cards on the table I guess. I was thinking of setting you up with my godson.”

                “Oh. Uh… Thanks but…” Jake starts, already shaking his head.

                “He’s a good looking kid –”

                “Mav, I’m kind of… not available.”

                “Really? Since when?”

                “Uh. It’s new, but I’m… really looking forward to seeing where it goes.”

                “Really? Who is it? Do I know them?”

                “This feels sort of weird, you asking me all these questions. But no, you don’t know them.”

                “Hmm. Interesting. Come on kid, let's go get some lunch and you can tell me all about it.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:13 pm]

(cw: foul language, mark is an idiot)

Being in college was not what it was cracked up to be. You were tired all the time, sick of eating instant food, over living in the dorms, and you missed your boyfriend Mark. Going to college together had been risky, you heard from everyone that there was a huge chance high school sweethearts like you guys wouldn’t make it. College was tough on everybody with the stress of all the school work, being away from home, and becoming adults.

Well, you were going into your second year, a new roommate and a new outlook on the year. You were going to kick ass. You had a handful of new friends that you were fairly close with, a good group of classmates to study with, and you had made it a goal to spend more time with Mark.

But Mark had made a goal for himself too. Mark wanted to get the real college experience and had pledged to a frat to get the whole party-and-live-with-a-bunch-of-your-best-friends-experience. Your plans of spending more time together interfered with his plans because he was so exhausted doing homework on top of being the errand boy for the upperclassmen, a pledge he preferred to be called, of the frat.

You could count on both hands the amount of time you had seen him in the first 6 weeks of the semester. You texted regularly though you did start to notice a decline and an overall boredom in his messages to you. You were confused but didn’t push. Moving away from his family had been really hard on Mark, so maybe having a close group of guys would be helpful for him. You would be supportive if it made him happy, even if it meant less time spent together.

Which was why it was so surprising to see him waiting in the hallway outside your door. It had been 8 days since you had last seen him in person. You wondered if this time you had forgotten the plans you had made.

“Hey Mark, what are you doing here?” You asked.

“I think we should talk inside,” Mark told you quietly. This wasn’t going to be good, he was pulling on his ear, one of his many nervous habits.

You led him to the couch, taking a seat and a deep breath, bracing yourself for the conversation that had created a pit at the bottom of your stomach. “So, umm- this isn’t going to be easy,” he began with a heavy sigh, he stood up and began pacing, “the guys think that a lot of my stress would be gone if I had less distractions in my life.”

“I agree, you’ve been really stressed lately Mark. You need to lighten your load and relax more,” you replied, still unsure of what the point was.

He began anxiously pulling at his hair at the nape of his neck, “Yeah, and they’ve kind of said that maybe some of my stress would be eased if we weren’t together.”

You swallowed harshly, fighting back the sudden tears, “Is that what you want Mark?”

“Well- I don’t know! The brothers made some really good points and I have been stressed! You said so yourself!”

“I don’t give a shit what these guys I don’t know think about our relationship Mark. I’m asking if you want to break up.”

“I don’t know, man! It makes sense! I’ve been so stressed, I miss home, I’m tired of homework, and being busy all the time- so yeah, I think I agree with them,” he quietly answered.

“Ok, you can leave now.” You replied coldly, getting up to walk to your room.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“What the fuck else do you want me to say Mark? You clearly haven’t taken my feelings into consideration for this. I don’t have anything else to say to you, I don’t even want to look at you right now,” you spat.

He stood wide-eyed, obviously not expecting the outburst. It irked you. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, Mark. I don’t think you are. If you really felt bad then you would have thought of me and my feelings, you know the person you’ve been dating for 3 years? You would have talked to me, and I would have helped you. You wouldn’t have let a bunch of guys you met this year make a decision like this for you, Mark, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore, my Mark would tell me things!” You tearfully argued. You hated how weak you felt crying over this.

His eyes filled with tears, you used to hate when he cried. You used to love his eyes, they always had a sparkle that was so distinctly Mark. You could always look into his eyes and see exactly what he was feeling. You always thought you had a gift for reading his emotions. When you told Mark you loved him for the first time, you could read the surprise all over his face, but you could see in his eyes that he loved you too. He looked at you like you had hung the moon and the stars in the sky, like the sun rose and fell everyday just to grace you with its presence. You could tell when he was ready to leave a party from a simple look. You could tell when he was happy or annoyed or tired from just his eyes. He used to look at you like you were the most special person to ever walk the Earth. You had to look away from him, you couldn’t stand looking at him or looking into his sad eyes and forgiving him when he didn’t deserve it.

He choked out your name, wiping the endless stream of tears with his sleeve, “I’m sorry.”

“Mark, I need you to leave. Please, just leave.” You walked over to the door and wordlessly held it open.

He was hiccuping, gasping while he cried. He was staring at you, hoping you would tear your gaze away from the floor to look at him one more time. Hoping that if you just looked at him you could see just how sorry he really was.

You didn’t.

“I’ll have someone drop your stuff off at the frat house,” you told him quietly.

He nodded, “I can drop your stuff off.”

“Don’t. Have it ready when your stuff gets to you.”

“Ok, bye then.” Mark sniffled, eyes still somewhat hopeful that you’d give him one last look, even if it was from the corner of your eye. Just a second of eye contact to ease the pain that was eating away at his heart, to let him know that everything would be fine. That you would be fine. 

You closed the door, but he couldn’t ignore the pain in his chest as he heard your sobs from the other side of the door. It was too late to take back his words, no matter how much he regretted them now. He fucked up.

-

a/n: per request, here is part 2! (I will not be adding anyone else to the taglist)

[bookshelf-dust]

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,686

warnings: swearing, reader has a shitty mom, a few uses of y/n, anxiety, fluff and angst

a/n: hi! listen, i know, i know, it’s been more than a month since i published part two and i’m sorry. but i promise it won’t take as long anymore. i hope you like this part! there’s a lot going on. it’s getting messy, my dudes. love you! <333

————

Your room is small. And you don’t mind that one bit. Hell, you’re lucky your parents snagged one of the few single-wide’s with a layout nice enough that there even are two bedrooms. 

But sometimes the small space can seem confining, like right now. 

You’ve been staring at college-ruled paper for what seems like forever now, and…you’ve got nothing. You spent all day brainstorming for this essay, and now that you’ve sat down, you’ve lost it all. It’s as if there isn’t a single coherent thought left in your brain. 

You hop up from your seat, thinking that if you get a drink, maybe listen to some music, then you’ll be able to get a hold on your concentration. 

And it works, for a while. You’ve been at your desk for well over an hour, and you’ve put a hell of a dent in your paper. 

But having your headphones on means you don’t hear your parents come home, not until your mother is smacking her fist against your door frame to get your attention. 

“Hello?”

You’re quick to push the pause button in on your walkman and put your headphones on the tabletop in front of you. The amount of eraser shavings you’ve accumulated is unsettling. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Your mother lets out what you're sure is the most dramatic sigh known to man. “Of course you didn’t, not with those things on your ears.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better about it, okay?”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall just inside your room. “Mhm. How’s your paper going?”

“It’s fine. Not due for a week.”

“So you’ve said. Anyways, I came in here because I was at the store yesterday, and Sherri caught up with me.”

“Oh, yeah? How is she?”

Sherri Henson is a bitch. She’s the kind of woman who peaked in high school and can’t seem to grasp that—even if she is well into her fifties by now—spending all her time corralling the neighborhood gossip. She’s lived a couple trailers down from you your whole life. And she’s yet another reason why you need to get the fuck out of dodge. 

“Oh, she’s fine. She just wanted to tell me that she’s seen you hanging out with that Eddie Munson boy. And I haven’t heard good things about him. I just wanted to know what you were up to.”

Your stomach drops. Of course she’d say some shit like that. “We’re friends. I’m allowed to have those, aren’t I?”

“Yes. But don’t you think it would be wise to make good friends?”

You rub at your forehead, already sick of this. There’s a reason you don’t tell your mother anything about your life. 

“You don’t know anything about him, do you?”

Your mother pushes her glasses up into her mess of hair. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand how you can be judgmental of a guy you don’t even know. You’re always whining about how I don’t have friends, and now that I’ve made one, he’s not good enough?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I just don’t want you to harm your education by hanging around some good-for-nothing boy.”

“I think I can make my own decisions.”

“Clearly not. Look at you.” She doesn’t say anything more, but leaves the room instead. 

You should be used to this. You should know that your mother doesn’t like that you aren’t a carbon copy of her. But it still stings. The feeling is drowning you; the feeling of being pathetic, unsuccessful, embarrassing. 

You need a minute. It’s not like you can concentrate on your paper here anyways. Your mother has already shut herself up in her own bedroom, and you know she won’t miss you if you’re not around. 

A lift of the blinds in your bedroom tells you that Eddie’s van is parked outside his trailer, but you don’t feel right just running over, so you call. 

Of course he picks up.

He hasn’t even said his name yet and you’ve already started talking. “Eddie?”

“Hey, yeah, something wrong?”

You sound frazzled. If Eddie’s being totally straight with himself, he might even say you sound a little panicky. Claustrophobic, maybe.

He doesn’t like hearing you sound like this. 

“Would it be okay if I came over for a bit? You can say no, I just…your company might help.”

You can feel that cocky ass grin from over the phone. The way your words register in his brain and he comes up with a response he knows will get you riled up.

“Oh, my company? That what you need?”

“Eddie,” he can practically see you waving him off, “nevermind.”

He laughs. “Okay, sorry. Yeah, you can come over. You didn’t have to ask. Could’ve just busted in.”

“That seems like a horrendous idea. And isn’t Wayne home?”

“Yeah, but he sleeps like the dead. He wouldn’t even notice. That’s what he gets for having me around after all this time.”

“Poor Wayne.”

He scoffs and stumbles over his words. “Poor Wayne? 

“Yeah, I feel for him, having to put up with you all these years. Anyways, I’ll be there in a second.”

“You little shit–” he starts, but you’re already hanging up. 

Eddie opens the door closest to his room to watch for you. You bound across the road and up the concrete step, clearly pleased with yourself. He backs up, that stupid ass grin on his face, and gestures with his arm for you to go inside. 

He notices you’ve brought your bag with you. “Plotting my murder?” he inquires, eyes dancing over the corduroy. 

“Absolutely. Any sort of preference?”

He sits down on his bed, back to the wall. “Maybe the candlestick? Rope could be fun. Or if you’re feeling particularly malicious: poison.”

“Remind me to never play Clue with you.”

He laughs and it’s low and drawn out like he knows he’s being annoying. Like he knows you enjoy it. 

“Why, because you know I’ll kick your ass?”

You smile at him, and it feels like he’s won the lottery. “Precisely.” 

“I’d go easy on you,” he argues. 

“Bullshit.”

Eddie watches you fiddle with the zipper on your bag and then pull out a piece of paper. You flop down in his desk chair, making yourself at home. He’s told you to do that more than once, so he’s glad to see you act on it. 

“What are we working on?”

“I’m supposed to be finishing a paper, and that’s what I was doing, but being berated doesn’t really help my focus.”

He chuckles, opening a bag of Skittles you didn’t even know he had. “I wouldn’t think so. You wanna talk about it?”

“No, that’s okay.” 

Eddie nods, hoping you’ll open up to him sooner than later. 

“Would you prefer if I just went about my business while you worked?”

“I really would, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Anything you need, sweetheart.”

He hops up, and his fingers go to mess with the radio, but he stops himself short. “Will this bother you? If I keep it low?”

You shake your head, tapping your eraser on the desk. He gives you a frantic thumbs up before trying to make sure the music doesn’t murder your hearing. 

It’s on some rock station, where some of the songs are ones you’re familiar with, others not so much.

“Good?” he asks, and you return his earlier thumbs up. It makes him grin.

He settles back on his mattress, though it groans in protest as he does. He scratches away at a notebook for a while, and the room stays quiet. Just being in the same room as him is enough to keep you calm and give you time to focus.

You make more progress on the paper now then you had at home, and start to think maybe you should do all your work in Eddie’s company.

Eventually Eddie gets bored and pushes up, his hands coming to rest against the desk on either side of you, caging you in. He kisses the top of your head before resting his chin on it, peering down at your paper.

“Damn. Almost done?”

“Yeah. Should probably quit and come back to it later anyway.” 

“Wanna see something fun?” You look up at him and he’s got a wild look in his eyes, a wide smile on his face. 

“I don’t know if I trust that.”

“Oh, come on. Take a break. For me?” Eddie bats his eyelashes and you smack him on the arm. He stands and stumbles backwards as if you’ve brutally wounded him, though the smile stays and really ruins the act. 

“Fine. Let’s see.”

He’s got this brilliant, boyish look on his face. You can tell he’s excited. It’s the kind of excitement that rubs off on you, that makes you anxious to know what it’s for, even if it is something small. 

He moves to the corner of his room and opens this big chest that you might not have even noticed because of how much surrounds it. You realize, though, that there’s a handful of Dungeons and Dragons handbooks, a binder covered in stickers, other things you don’t entirely understand.

Eddie digs around for a second, and then he pulls out a little velvet bag. He brandishes it to you, shaking it a little. Whatever’s inside makes noise.

“I got new dice. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie that’s so amazing, I can’t believe you’d share this with me,’ but believe it, because they’re cool, okay? Prepare yourself.”

You take a dramatically over exaggerated deep breath, gearing yourself up. “Ready, Eddie.”

He snorts. He can’t believe you. 

He dumps them out next to you on his bed. “Ta-da!”

You pick one up, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t squeal. The dice are a translucent red color, with black numbers, and they’ve got little bats set into them. 

Fucking bats. 

You look up and Eddie’s big brown eyes are shining down at you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to contain himself.

“Eddie, these are so cool!”

He throws himself on the bed beside you. “They’re sick, right?” 

You pick up a handful, looking at all of the different ones as they roll around between your fingers. “Yeah. These are fucking cool, dude.”

Eddie giggles. He giggles. His glee is palpable. 

“I’m honored that you wanted to share this with me, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, scooping them up and putting them back in the bag. “I don’t just go showing my dice to anyone, you know.”

You laugh, hard, and it’s the first time Eddie’s heard you laugh like that. He thinks he could live off of the sound. He wouldn’t need anything else. 

“Well I’m glad you showed them to me.”

Eddie winks at you. “Me too.”

————

Eddie doesn’t hear from you for a few days, but it doesn’t worry him really. He knows you're busy with school, and he is too, now that he’s trying to get the hell out of there for real this time. He’s also working on a big ass campaign. He thinks this might be the one where Dustin’s character finally dies, the little fucker. He’s managed to kill off everyone else’s characters at least once (Gareth a few more), but never Dustin.

He does miss you, though.

Eddie is finding that he doesn’t like being without you as much as he likes being with you. 

He’s starting to show you parts of himself that he hasn’t shown other people before. He usually doesn’t have the ability to sit quietly in a room with someone else. Or watch for fucking bats. Hell, he built a fort for you. 

And he’s laying in bed, well past the time he should be asleep, thinking about how he doesn’t feel like you’re letting him get to know you like he is you. 

Eddie’s room is dark except for the light coming in through the window. He goes to rest his hand on his chest, but cold metal meets his bare skin and he’s quick to unsnap the bracelet he left on his wrist. 

He knows what you’re in school for. He knows you’re into bats. That you laugh at stupid, immature shit just like he does. Shit you’d get in trouble for laughing at. 

But if what he’s feeling, deep down, is what he thinks it is, he wants to give all of himself to you. And he wants all of you. 

He really does. 

And something about the way you held him that night that you stayed over told him you felt more. He can see you letting go sometimes. But more often it feels reluctant. 

Eddie just wants you to know that he’s not going anywhere. That he wants you safe. Happy.

He wants you for you.

Not for whatever else anyone tells you.

You are everything he’s ever wanted.

You.

————

“How’d you do on your paper?” Eddie asks. You’d told him when it was due, and just now that you’d gotten it back.

“Fine.”

“Fine? That’s all I get?”

Something’s wrong with you today. He’d invited you over for lunch, and you’d come, but the smile you gave him at the door wasn’t genuine. Something is hurting you, and you haven’t told him what. 

And it’s killing him.

He can’t help you if you won’t let him. 

You set down your drink, a little harder than you’d meant to, and sigh. 

Fuck, Eddie thinks. The last thing he wants to do is frustrate you. 

“I got a B.”

His eyebrows raise over the enormous bite of sandwich he’s just taken. He decides to behave and chew it all before he speaks. Wayne might not get the same treatment.

“Oh yeah? That’s so good! I’m proud of you.”

You nod your head, but you don’t look at him. If he’s being honest, it kind of hurts his feelings.

“You might be the only one,” you mumble. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s…it’s nothing, Eddie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He grabs the bag of chips out of your hand before you can shove your mouth full of them, and you look incredibly offended. 

“Don’t do that. Tell me what you meant.” Eddie’s voice is serious. He’s never spoken to you like this before. 

You run your hands over your face. “My mom. She told me I could’ve done better than that.” You don’t say that she also said it was probably a result of spending so much time with Eddie. 

Eddie sets your bag of chips back down. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“You’re a total badass, and I know you’re hard working as shit. If she can’t see that, then fuck her man.” 

You won’t look at him. 

You won’t look at him. 

“You can’t listen to that shit, man. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this, Eddie.” He cocks his head at you, brown eyes boring into yours. “And it’s not exactly easy, just ignoring it. I’ve heard it for years, that I could be trying harder or doing something differently or anything, so it’s like fuckin’ ingrained in my brain. And sometimes I think it’s true.”

Eddie reaches across the table for your hand, his laying palm-up, waiting for you to accept it. You limply supply your hand to him, and he pushes his thumb into the center, rubbing in slow circles. He’s hoping the contact might be enough to pull you out of your head some. 

“Look at me,” Eddie says. 

You're quick to think about the night he found you moping on the bench. He’d said that then too. 

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you. 

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins. 

Eddie’s thinking about it too. How upset you’d looked. How upset you look now. But he also remembers something else. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

You hadn’t wanted to talk about your feelings then, and that was understandable because you hadn’t seen the guy in forever. But it’s different now. Isn’t it? Eddie feels differently for you. And he can see that you care about him, obviously, but what if he’s reading this wrong? What if you don’t want him as anything other than a friend?

This time though, you do look up at him. “It’s not true. I know your brain is telling you that, and maybe you even hear your parents saying that shit, and if your mind works anything like mine does–and I think it does–then I know it’s so fucking annoying, and you can’t do anything without hearing some negative response.”

“But it isn’t true. You work your ass off, and you’re kind and caring, and I’m sorry, but I can’t have you thinking otherwise, you hear me?”

You nod your head, and Eddie’s quick to swipe up the tear he sees fall, before you even know you’re crying. 

He gets up, coming over to where you're sitting and crouching in front of you. He puts his hands on your knees, but you push them off and stand, forcing him to follow so that he doesn’t bust his ass. 

You wipe your face off, drag your hands across your jeans, the feeling of Eddie’s hand on yours still burning through your nerves. 

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna go home.”

Something about this, about the tone in your voice, how resigned you sound, makes Eddie frustrated. 

He doesn’t move from his place in front of you. He can’t just let this go. He isn’t wired that way. 

“So this is how it’s gonna go, huh?”

You blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

He puts his hands on his hips, and he knows he looks like Wayne, he knows it, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. 

“You come over, you’re upset, but you won’t talk to me about it, and when you do start to talk about it, you give me vague answers and you shrug it off. That’s not talking, Y/N.”

“This is hard for me, Eddie! I don’t know what to do with myself when someone wants to listen to me, okay?”

“I understand that, but you’ve gotta at least try.”

“Try what?”

“Letting me in, for fucks sake! I can’t fucking help you, if you won’t let me in!”

Eddie sounds exasperated. And now you’re both shouting at each other. Shouting.

“Eddie, I–”

“Listen, just give me a second. You wouldn’t talk about what happened that night you stayed over except vaguely–and that’s okay with me–but then you wouldn't talk to me the other day, either. And now you’re just…I feel like you’re shutting me out.”

“I want to help you, and I know it takes time to open up, but I know that you know you’re safe with me. And I want to help make it better. I want you, Y/N, and I just–why won’t you let me in?”

It feels like your heart has stopped. Like he’s messing with you. But you know better than that. And you should’ve known that was coming at some point. 

“Eddie, don’t say that.”

“Say what?” He wants to hear the words leave your mouth. 

You mess with your fingers, and he grabs your hands to get you to quit. “That you want me, Eddie. You can’t just say that.”

“And why can’t I, huh? Because it involves feelings? Y’know those things that you won’t share with me?”

You step a little ways back from him, but you’re still cornered. He knows that stung, but if he hadn’t said it now, he might never have at all. 

“Eddie, you can’t actually want me. You’ve said it yourself, I’m incapable of being open and not fucking things up! Look at what we’re doing!”

“And what if I do want you? What then?”

“Then I don’t know!” you yell, louder than you’d intended. 

Eddie moves away from you then, sitting back down, and crossing his arms. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, despite the fact that you’re arguing. 

“I never said you were fucking things up. And I didn’t say you were incapable of being open,” he breathes. “That’s all I want, for you to be open with me. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, like you have to let that shit eat you alive.”

“But aren’t I? Fucking it up? Eddie, you’re the only friend I’ve got and you’re being honest with me and all I’ve done is fuss at you. That’s like, the definition of fucking things up.”

“You’re not. I just want you to let me in.”

You’re both quiet for a minute. You walk around the trailer, cleaning up your lunch and grabbing your things. It’s mindless, and you’re not even sure you want to go home. 

“I meant what I said,” Eddie starts. “I do want you. And I mean as more than just a friend. I’m—” I’m falling in love with you. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say that he wishes he’d said so sooner. That he’d told you in high school. None of that matters now. He wants you, and he thinks he always will. 

“I would never lie to you about that,” he says. 

You take a shaky breath. “I know that you wouldn’t, Eddie. I just…I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. You do know.”

“I think maybe you should want someone who’s not so much trouble.”

And Eddie can’t say anything, because you’ve already turned and rushed down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind you. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @ajkamins @golddustwitches @copycatkillerfics @prestinalove @zaypay @clovermunson @kelsiegrin @storiesbyrhi @avalon-wolf

[newtonsheffield]

so Sophie’s Edwina’s secretary in the bodyguard au?! Oh bless her, she doesn’t get it easy does she 😂😂

Probably pleased she’s not having to deal with the future Queen and her bodyguard drama as that’s gonna be a headache! and all that drama only for Edwina to be like “hold my beer” with Josephine…

Sophie Beckett, Princess Edwina’s private secretary is the hardest working woman in that palace and everyone knows it. Sophie is constantly seen, herding Edwina around the palace with her arms held outstretched, walking forward, giving Edwina little choice but to move in the same direction.

She might not have to deal with Princess Kate and the fact that the Princess is clearly, in Sophie’s opinion, shagging Anthony Bridgerton her head of security. It’s none of Sophie’s business, it’s really not, she just walked past a cupboard in The Small Palace one day and the last time she checked, mops didn’t say “Fuck, Anthony.”

It’s just not Sophie’s problem! It isn’t! She has enough to deal with Edwina, frankly.

“I have a secret.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes at Edwina across the car. “Is it…? About a certain… security guard?”

Edwina narrowed her eyes, “What do you know?”

“What do you know?”

Neither of them spoke for a moment before Edwina sighed, “My secret is different than that. I have a crush on a straight girl I have for a very long time.”

“How long’s a long time?”

“Since I was fifteen.”

Sophie winced, “That’s a long time.”

Edwina groaned, “I know. It’s fucking awful. I haven’t really thought about her in ages and then she showed up at this event and I… fuck. She was my sort of… peer big sister thing when I was at school, she was finishing up when I started and she… is… fucking perfect. It’s annoying.”

“Do I know this woman?”

“She’s… the Duke of Haverford’s daughter.”

Sophie let her mind tick through the list of people, their pictures before she gasped, “Josephine? Ohh she’s pretty.”

“I know.” Edwina groaned, “And I fucking… couldn’t stay away from her at that stupid party could I? I’ve been texting her and it’s a fucking disaster is what it is.”

“Well maybe not, are we sure she’s straight?”

“She told me she was when I mentioned something in passing.”

Sophie winced, “I’m sorry, I guess you need to decide if you want to be friends with someone if it’s going to make you feel like shit. You don’t deserve to feel that way.”

“She doesn’t want me to feel that way.” Edwina’s voice was tiny, staring out the window.

“And it’s not her fault, she is who she is, and you are who you are. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Right.” Edwina nodded, “You’re right. I’m just going to stop. I’ll stop responding to pictures of her cute little sausage dog.”

“What’s the sausage dog’s name?”

“Haggis.”

Sophie let out a squeak. “I’m sorry. That’s…” She scoffed, “Barely a cute name. Fuck Josie.”

“Yeah,” Edwina sighed, “Fuck Josie.”

“I didn’t expect you to take our new mantra literally Edwina!” Sophie hissed as she herded her down the hall, her cheeks still burning from having to keep the king out of his own study months later while Edwina rattled the desk drawers loose.

Edwina grinned, “Well, you know what I’m like.”

“I need a new job. I need to transfer to your sister.”

“Speaking of my sister, have I mentioned Anthony’s brother to you?”

Sophie scoffed, “Oh you are not setting me up with someone to distract me! At least don’t use your father’s office to secretly shag the daughter of one of these rich fuckers! Your father thinks I’m insane!”

[ennard-is-near]

Fact checking Michael Afton’s Sister Location monologue

Key:

✅ Entirely or mostly true.

⚠️ True enough but with a technicality

❌ Almost entirely or entirely false

This speech is very funny to me, because it’s very cool but also what is he talking about? And who is he talking to? Like is he on the phone or…just yapping to himself? Anyway enjoy.

Father… ⚠️ He ends this speech with “I’m going to come find you.” So he’s obviously not face to face with William here. And he probably isn’t on the phone with him because there isn’t widespread cellphone usage so he’d need to call a landline? But this is definitely addressed to his father

It’s me, Michael. ✅ Yes it is.

I did it. I found it. ⚠️ Well… he found it in the way that he followed instructions on how to get there, but he was told where to go. He didn’t have to look. This is a place of business, other people work there too.

It was right where you said it would be. ✅ this line makes him “finding” the bunker a little silly, but he was given instructions on how to get there, why else would he say this

They were all there ❌ Evan is missing. So is Charlie.

They didn’t recognize me at first ⚠️ Baby does tell him that she doesn’t recognize him, but I am 100% convinced that she did so I’m marking it as a maybe. He’s not lying on purpose, I think he’s just dumb.

But then, they thought I was you…❌ Why does he think this? They don’t think that he’s William. Nobody ever says anything to suggest this at all. They clearly just are attacking people, they killed those two technicians also.

And I found her. ⚠️ Again, she was just there? You didn’t really. Like other people also knew where she was, she wasn’t hiding.

I put her back together, ❌ Lmao she put herself back together you were more of a vessel. You didn’t do shit, man.

just like you asked me to. ✅ I bet he did.

She’s free now. ✅ Yes she is. Running around in the sewers and living her best life.

But something is wrong with me, I should be dead. But I’m not. ✅ Also true. He is so gross now. Zombie ass.

I’ve been living in shadows. ✅ Lmao.

There is only one thing left for me to do now.⚠️ I mean yeah, like this is mostly true but he could probably do other stuff and I’m an asshole.

I’m going to come find you. ⚠️ Flagging this one because he doesn’t do a very good job. Took him 30 years and he didn’t even really do it, the guys at Fazbear’s Fright did. He was just there.

I love this speech so much. What is he on about??? I’m so serious. And I know I was an asshole with my technicalities but this is his one set of lines and they’re fucking silly. Also PJ Heyword (Michael’s VA. Though for some reason he’s credited as “Misc” or something in the actual game?? He voices Michael and William Afton, at least credit him with “Mr. Afton” and “Michael” because they’re both named in game as that) EATS this up. No crumbs. And his sad delivery of these lines and also his like laugh thing he does at some point are very cool. Boyfailurecore. But I think about this speech so much it’s started to not make sense to me anymore.

[ilovesjamesbb]

Please Don't Leave Me (Pt. 7)

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Depression, suicide, depressing shit

“No. No no no no no no.” He grabbed my body pulling me out of the tub. He was struggling. What is happening? Our song, James. Our song is on. I feel sleepy. I feel good. All of a sudden there is a clatter and I feel something in my mouth. It's large and it makes its way down my throat. It's a terrible feeling. I feel myself starting to wake up. 

Bucky runs over to the tub pulling y/n out of the red water. The cuts aren't that deep but enough to bleed bad. He looks down and sees the pill bottle. He picks it up and it's empty. Fuck. 

What had she done? I left her alone. This is my fault. She needed me and I left her. I didn’t know what else to do but get those pills out. 

“You're not gonna like this, doll. I promise you will be okay. I’ll fix this.” I shove my fingers down her throat hoping to trigger her gag reflex. She’s barely conscious she's not really fighting back so I push further. 

“Come on. Come on!” Fuck this isn’t working. Right when I lost hope she started to gag and throw up. It's not enough. I keep my fingers down her throat. 

“There you go, doll. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” She vomits until there is nothing left. The bath water is starting to overflow and red water finds its way onto the floor. I grab her head and rock her back and forth. Crying. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I harshly wiped her hair out of her face. 

“Our song is on, James.” She smiles but never opens her eyes. Thank god.

“Yes doll our song is on.” I say sweetly but I can hear the sadness in my voice as it cracks. 

“I wish this was real, James. I wish this is how it could've been.” She hums sadly. She thinks this isn’t real?

“This IS real doll. I’m right here.” I cry. The floor covered in vomit and bloody water is something I'll never forget. I rip the towel off the wall and cover her in it. I need to call someone but I don’t want to leave her. 

“I love you. I never wanted you to hate me for trying to kill myself. I thought I was doing the right thing. All I could see in that moment was your reaction to watching the tape the scientists would send you and I didn’t want you to end up how I am now.” She whispers. Still clearly not with it. 

“I wish you were real right now. I wish we got to have the future I dreamt of.”

“Tell me about it, doll.” I said trying to keep it together.

“We would live in a white house with a red door. There would be a white fence and flowers on the front lawn. A huge willow tree in the back where maybe we could put a swing. The paperboy would drop off the paper every morning and I would make you coffee and bring it to you in bed. We would read the paper together. Our favorite song is playing on one of the many record players we have in the house. You would wake me up with a kiss every day. We would talk about what we wanted to name our future baby. We would get to have kids and they would grow up to love the music we like almost as much as they would love you…” She trailed off. God I wanted that too. 

“What else? Tell me more.” I urged her on. I wanted to make her regain full consciousness. 

“I’m tired James. I can see it, can't you? I see the dog running in the backyard. You always throw his ball too far…he can’t find it. I can’t find you… James, where are you…” I can feel her start to slip again. She was panicking. 

“Y/n. Y/n!” I yell, shaking her.

“JARVIS. Call Steve, call Tony, call someone!” I screamed. The fear in my voice evident. 

“They are coming, Sergeant Barnes. I alerted Dr. Cho as well.” I held her in my arms whispering sweet nothings into her hair. I couldn't lose her for a third time. 

[sleepyfan-blog]

Phantom

Author’s Note: Sirass part three! I hope you enjoy :D

First.

Previous.

Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel@whorety-k 

Warnings: none

Summary: Sirass and Pollux go to the afflicted reef to scout how many fellow Astartes they’ll need to destroy the burgeoning garden of rot. What they find surprises them.

“We’re going to have to burn all of the samples the humans took of the diseased wildlife and plants.” Pollux muttered, swimming back and forth in agitation as he waited impatiently for Sirass to finish gearing up.

“I know that, you’ve left instructions and warning for the blue stylus pushers to handle that, right?” Sirass snapped, rolling his eyes beneath his helmet as he continued to check over his gear, wanting to be sure that none of it had any flaws before they went diving into a territory defiled by Nurgle’s Worshippers. “We’ll need to check the machinery as well.”

“... But the Plague-bastard’s curses and afflictions only affect the living. Metals rust and decay but don’t fall sick.” The Imperial Fist spluttered, eyes going wide under his helmet.

“Clearly you’ve never had the dubious misfortune of having to deal with Glitchlings.” Sirass huffed, shaking his head a little “... When were you brought from?”

“Mid M-32, why?” Pollux asked “What the fuck is a Glitchling?”

“My bastard Primarch decided to cut a deal with the Plaguefather for… I’m not sure why… Some time in the past as I know it, after you were brought here. The ritual he used to seal the deal fused Machine Plague and Warp Bullshith together to create Glitchlings. They’re Nurglings, but for machines instead of living creatures. They delight in the corruption of machines and twisting them into horrific monstrosities.” Sirass explained “I heard about it from some of my Chaos brothers in passing and the knowledge stuck with me.”

“Oh fuck that entirely. They aren’t going to be thrilled about having to purge the data.” Pollux sighed. “And don’t call the Ultramarines stylus pushers. They do far more than that and you know it. They’ll likely handle the data as well, and explaining why fire and destruction is the only safe path forward.”

“... True enough.” Sirass sighed, reassured that his gear was in perfect working order. “I’m ready to go.”

“Finally! Remember, this is a scouting mission, as neither of us can deal with a full Rot Garden, we don’t have the kit to do so. There are Salamanders inbound, but it’s going to-” Pollux stated.

“It’s going to take them a few days to get here. Yeah, I know. This isn’t the first shit-awful mission I’ve been on, and I doubt it’ll be the last.” Sirass finished, cutting off the Imperial Fist. “We need to have a rough estimate of how many Death Guard are making this fucking thing, and whether or not they’ve managed to corrupt any humans into worshipping their shit-ass deamon-god. I remember the briefing protocols for something like this, I don’t need to be reminded. Let’s get going.”

Pollux grumbled under his breath, and Sirass pretended not to hear the bitchy bastard as they swum swiftly over the deceptively beautiful waters, diving in.

~

“... Wasn’t the garden bigger, the last time we were here?” Pollux asked Sirass over vox, sounding as perplexed as Sirass felt.

“It was. I helped with the last survey of the afflicted reef two days ago. Something’s changed… I could almost taste the Chaos in the water, but that’s faded somewhat too…” Sirass murmured, scanning the area more closely. “The densest bit of fuckery is this way. I haven’t seen any signs of Death Guard here today, what about on your side, Pollux?”

“No signs of Death Guard on this side of the Garden, either. Maybe they’re deeper in, or off on a hunt?” Pollux offered. “I… Suppose we should push further into the territory.” It went without saying that they should touch nothing in this cursed place unless they absolutely had to.

The signs of decay and illness were still very much present in the plant and animal life, but it wasn’t nearly as dire as it had been a couple of days ago. Some of the fish were actually moving at close to their normal speeds, doing their usual behaviors. The numbers of parasites in the waters had gone down according to Sirass’ scanners, and the amount of chaos taint had plummeted precipitously, now that he knew to look for it, knew what the signs were.

This was true even as the two mer cautiously swum deeper into the garden. Signs of healthy life were beginning to appear, and the dead were no longer crawling or moving in a parody of life. Sirass stilled completely as he reached the middle of the garden, eyes widening beneath his visor “What… Who?... Why?”

Before him was the crawling vine-rose things that marked the heart of a plague garden. It’s tendrils should be glowing and pulsing, trying to reach for anything that wasn’t tainted by Nurgle in order to consume. The center mass of the foul creation should be undulating and hard to look at without nausea and pain ripping through his body and mind.

Instead, the thorn-covered vines were a dull grey color. Lifeless and unmoving. The center mass looked like it had been ripped or slashed apart by something large and pissed off. Clearly someone else had killed the heart of the this Rot Garden, which was what helped to perpetuate Nurgle’s curses and diseases. They hadn’t completed the job, and if left unattended, the Plague Heart would come back to life and start causing problems if it wasn’t thoroughly torched in Promethium-based flames and torn out, roots and all.

But it was an excellent start. 

“I have no idea who did this… I didn’t think there were many Astartes in this area, apart from the group who lives with the humans nearby. None of them reported in, attacking this and they really should have…” Pollux muttered to himself. “We should retreat from here. It may be dead for now, but it’s still dangerous… And the Death Guard could come back. They’ll get nasty as they’ll assume we did this.”

“Mh, let’s get going then.” Sirass agreed, nodding shortly. Agreeing with an Iron Fist felt very strange and vaguely wrong… But Pollux was correct in this instance. The two of them took turns flitting from cover to cover around the periphery of the slowly shrinking Garden of Rot for the four days it took for the Salamander Flamer squads to arrive. Not a single Death Guard, nor any cultists appeared in that time.

Once the Salamanders had arrived and began the task of purifying the area with flames and psykery, Sirass and Pollux left after being checked and cleared for corrosion. The Ultramarines attached to the humans’ ocean preservation group had indeed purged all of the Nurgle Shit from the area, including information and explained why.

Sirass’ human sprinted over to him as soon as he cleared the ocean water. You hesitated for a couple of moments asking “You’ve been through decontamination, right?”

“Yes, my love I have been. The area is being purged by experts.” He explains with a nod.

“Good… It’s going to be a lot of work to restore that area, but it’ll be worth it. I’m glad that… That you’re okay. The… The stories they told us about what those twisting-illnesses can do to a person were awful!” You shudder, running up to him and hugging him tightly.

Sirass smiles a little, holding you close. He nuzzles you lovingly as he takes off his helmet, attaching it to his belt and giving you several loving kisses all over your face “I apologize that you were frightened for and worried over me, love. But I am fine. If you’d like to thoroughly check me over once we get home, I won’t object~”

You blush at his tease but nod, going up on your tiptoes and giving him a loving kiss “Yes please.”

He grins as he scoops you up, swimming through the air towards your apartment.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

Me making it my sole mission for you to finish this fic 🦮🥲😂

You know I'm not even gonna do the math here. I'm just gonna give you 1000 words. Hahaha. Thank you for the motivation!

---

“You were there,” Buck reminds him. “You saw it.”

“Did you say anything that wasn't true?” Eddie asks. 

“No, but-”

“From where I was standing? Nothing you said was out of line in the slightest.” 

“I ruined Maddie’s dinner,” Buck sighs. “And a sort of nice moment with that stupid baby box.”

“Buck, if that's how you feel, how they made you feel, you have every right to say so. Dinner be damned.”

“You sound like my therapist,” Buck accuses.

“Well, I’ve heard she’s smart,” Eddie retorts. “So, good.”

“I just don’t get it,” Buck sighs. “Why does Maddie deal with any of it? They haven’t changed. She said they were willing to try, but this doesn’t feel like trying. This is the same as it always was. Oh, except she gets presents for her baby.”

“Buck-”

“Okay, that wasn’t fair. The baby should get presents. It’s good that they’re showing interest in Maddie and their grandchild, just…”

“Why aren’t they showing interest in you?” Eddie asks. 

“Not just that,” Buck replies. “Like, yes. That. But, also, I don’t understand why they have so much… I don’t know… Scorn? For me. Like, clearly I wasn’t imagining that. They didn’t care, even from when I was a baby.”

“Hmm,” Eddie replies, clearly thinking about it. 

“Eddie, this… I mean, I’ve spent so long talking about it in therapy. Feeling like I could never be good enough for them impacted everything I did my whole life until very recently.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie says quietly.

“And now I find out, it’s just… Always been that way?” 

“That says more about them than it does about you,” Eddie replies. “Unconditional love is the main part of the job. You know that. You can give it. If they can’t, it’s something broken in them.”

And the thing is? Eddie is totally right. Buck knows Eddie is right. All the people in his life that he trusts would say the same thing. Except maybe Maddie, but this is her baggage, too. And she’s always been more forgiving than maybe she should be. 

“You know what, you’re right,” Buck sighs. “I feel like shit, but this isn’t on me.”

“It’s not,” Eddie agrees. 

“I can figure out what this means with Maddie going forward but… But I don’t have to deal with any of this,” Buck realizes aloud.

“You don’t,” Eddie confirms. “And I know it sucks and there’s no real way to heal that wound but… Buck, you don’t need them. You have a family that loves you unconditionally.”

He does.

And at the end of the day, that’s who he’s going home to.

The rest of this is just old bullshit. 

v.

Buck resolves to put this behind him. He works on talking points in his head for next time he sees Maddie. He loves her. He respects her decisions. He does not want to be involved in any future attempts at reconciliation. He thinks that’s fair. If she can’t get behind that, they have a larger issue. 

He figures he’ll give Maddie a couple of days. Wait until their parents are back in their damn RV, somewhere along the endless stretch of highway that will carry them back to Pennsylvania. The sort of drive he once did completely alone. She texts him of course. Tries to call, too. She’s concerned. He texts back saying not to be. He’s fine; just taking a breather. They can talk when their parents are gone. 

Maddie doesn’t seem to like this answer. Though he thinks it’s fair. She shows up at the house the next evening, while Eddie is at work. 

It’s just Buck and Chris. They’re just finishing up dinner. Buck made the spaghetti sauce Chris loves. It’s supposed to be a quiet, easy night for Buck to regain his composure. They’d even talked about driving to a nearby park and playing frisbee with Cranberry. But all bets are off when Maddie knocks on the door. 

“We need to talk,” Maddie says as soon as he opens the door. 

“Hello to you, too,” he mumbles, a little irritated. 

“Seriously, Evan,” she says. “Can we talk?”

He takes a deep breath. “Chris is home, so not if we’re going to argue.”

Maddie shakes her head. “I don’t want to argue. I want to tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” Buck frowns.

He wasn’t aware he’d been lied to. 

Maddie’s mouth tightens.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

🦮🦮🦮

They sit at the kitchen table. Buck makes herbal tea. Maddie picks at her nail beds anxiously, waiting for him to be ready. 

Buck had to ask Chris to retire to his bedroom for the night. It hadn’t been a hard sell once he mentioned as much screen time before bed as he wanted. Sorry, Eddie. But judging how nervous Maddie looks, he doesn’t want Chris to overhear this. 

“So what don’t I know?” Buck asks, passing her a mug and sitting across from her. 

Maddie wraps her hands around the mug, as if seeking comfort. She takes a deep, preparatory breath. 

“This is really hard for me,” she says.

“Okay,” he replies, nodding a little.

“So you have to let me finish once I start.”

“I can do that,” he promises. 

“Okay,” she exhales. “Um… So, something pretty big happened to our family when I was nine. Something they made me promise never to tell you.”

He furrows his brows. She would have turned nine a little bit before he turned one. So there’s no way he could remember whatever it is that she’s referring to. 

“Actually,” Maddie says quietly. “It wasn’t just you. I was never allowed to tell anyone. I wasn’t even allowed to talk about it with them.”

“Jesus, did they kill someone?” Buck asks. 

“No,” Maddie shakes her head. “Let me finish.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“What happened…” Maddie takes a deep breath. Her eyes start to well over with tears. Buck tenses with apprehension. “What happened… Is that our brother died.”

Buck blinks. The words don’t process quite right. 

“Our what?” He asks dumbly. Maybe she said dog or grandpa and he, for some insane reason, heard brother. But Buck is her brother. And he’s sitting right here. 

[impulsivesuperrobin]

i saw a post talking about neverafter slander on twitter so i went to check it out

here are some thoughts: (keep in mind, i’m not calling anyone out or saying your opinion isn’t valid if you agree with one of these points. try to read this as a light hearted discussion, like talking about a book with a friend)

a lot of it is people saying the season wasn’t horror enough and while i agree it’s not exactly as straightforward horror as the marketing suggested i think that that’s a take that is fundamentally misunderstanding what this is. it’s the horror season of dimension 20 which is a d&d show first and foremost. it’s not going to be following the beats of a horror movie because that’s not what they’re doing. when you run a horror campaign you fold in horror elements which they have been excellent at doing especially in the eldritch and existential categories

not to make assumptions but it seems to me that a lot of people making a big fuss about this haven’t played d&d for themselves. the things i have seen suggested the most for making the season more in line with the horror people were expecting involves turning the campaign into a more dm vs players situation (which is joked about a lot in fandom but in more of a meta humor way than is being suggested). this is something that anyone who has ever played in a bad campaign knows makes it a hell of a lot less fun to play and, i’m assuming, not so fun to watch either. the point of playing d&d is to work together to tell a story, if you go into to making a campaign with the goal of making your players lose, everyone is going to be miserable and your story is going to suck.

following that, some people are ragging on brennan for forgetting details and not having the lore entirely fleshed out. as someone who does unnecessary worldbuilding for homebrew campaigns every single time, i would just like to say on behalf of dms everywhere: it’s hard! there’s so much stuff to keep track of and so little time to keep the lore straight if you want the session to keep moving smoothly, i’m sure it’s even harder when you have a limited time to film the episodes/season

and maybe it’s just me, but i love horror movies (and other media) and neverafter is about as scary as most horror movies i’ve seen. it’s definitely better written than a lot of horror movies, we get to know the characters and are fully invested in them when bad things happen. it’s sort of on the level as the hellraiser reboot imo. some people make the point that besides the body horror, there’s not enough gore/blood kinda stuff, but i think gore isn’t truly horror, especially in a spoken format. it’s more of a shock factor thing, like a verbal jumpscare

and i’ve seen people saying that the pcs are too much like heroes/they’re too capable to be in any real danger, but in a horror movie, most of the bad things happen around the protagonist(s), they’re still thrown into the shit but most of the time they make it out. horror as a genre is so ill-defined anyway that people still debate if slashers and thrillers even count. plus, how many times in a movie has a side character been forgotten or something about the lore has been off? and that’s with multiple people overseeing the production.

jumping away from the “it’s not like the horror movie i envisioned” complaints, i’ve also seen a lot of people say it’s confusing??? and tbh i’m more confused about that than the campaign. to me it’s pretty straightforward, no more confusing than starstruck at the very least.

for the big picture: it’s different factions of people with conflicting (but occasionally overlapping) goals than all need to get to macguffin in order to reach whichever goal they’re aligned with

the pcs have their own character arcs which are very clearly laid out throughout the season

the minute details are there because that’s how you make your world feel lived in

and yeah, there’s a lot of potential in the stuff they could’ve done but didn’t. but i feel like that’s the whole point, y’know? this is the story they did tell, and the thousands of other ways they could’ve told the story live on like every retelling of a fairytale.

[ochrearia]

More RGBFverse shenanigans

I wanted to write a one-on-one with Beefer (cs!BF) and Yourself. cs!BF is one of my versions of BF, from my Fossil Fighters AU that I'm totally NOT neglecting rn. It's okay. Also Peacock (SFA!BF) is mentioned like once and he belongs to Shed!!! yeah

Caeru jumpscare.

Coming into his room to find he was not alone was the last thing Yourself had originally been expecting. But he supposed when he’d made the choice to tell his other selves they were allowed around whenever they needed, paired with their better versions of mirror-walking, there were going to be times where he came home to find obnoxious intruders. Beefer was the only one here this time, so at least it wasn’t everyone at once. YS would rather be notified ahead of time if everyone was going to show up. He didn’t mind one or two.

“Most people would, you know, send a text telling me that they’re coming to visit. I’m not prone to experiencing heart attacks when I’m surprised and find something that wasn’t here when I left.” YS snarked lightly, falling into the usual banter that would normally go on. Though when he crossed the room, he could tell something wasn’t right. “You okay?”

Beefer was curled rather pathetically around himself on YS’s bed, eyes half-lidded and sad. “Slipped away, for a little bit. Things are still… bad, with my situation. Feels like it never ends, like one day stretching out over months and months and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not your job to fix something you didn’t cause.” YS said slowly, moving to sit next to him on the bed. “Has nothing really changed? Haven’t you gotten to talk to your Pico and Cherry by now?”

“Hah. As if. Living on the run now, I have to be jumping through puddles to mirror-walk. At least any reflection works… They don’t know I’m gone. Maybe that’s for the best anyway. I don’t know how to talk to Pico right now, and Cherry… I messed up, she saw. My Alectro convinced me to vent to them and I didn’t originally mean to fall asleep after, but I did. They told her everything. I didn’t want to give her more guilt, she already has enough. I can’t talk to them.”

Making a face, YS extended his hand out and let it rest gently on the top of Beefer’s head. “Venting is good, you know. I told you not to bottle shit up. It’s not healthy. You clearly need someone to talk to but you’re not letting yourself have that. Someone that isn’t one of your dinosaurs. Vivosaurs? Is that what they’re called?”

“Yeah.” Beefer sighed, shifting slightly. “Vivosaurs. They’re better listeners than you might think. I know you can’t understand them, only Dinaurians can. But… that’s kind of why I came here. I’m pretending to be okay with being changed into something completely alien. Pretending. But I don’t really have anyone else who’d understand that. Pico is… complicated. I don’t know if I can trust him right now. So that leaves you.”

“Me, huh?” YS chuckled softly. “Well, I’ll do my best to understand then.”

“You do understand.” Beefer looked him in the eyes with an almost unnerving look. “Takes one to know one, YS. I’m not human anymore. And you never were.”

The taller one stiffened. “How…?”

“Do I know that?” The Dinaurian finished the question. “Maybe it’s a Dinaurian thing. They spend so much time disguising themselves to look human, using technology to create physical lies. Something about that makes it second nature to see through fake humans. Instinct, maybe. You look human but you’re not. You’re supernatural. Not necessarily in the same category as an alien, but still not human. Peacock is too, but he’s new to this whole fucked up family thing. You’re a better choice.”

“I… don’t follow on how I would understand your predicament the way you’re implying.”

“You’ve lost your wings, haven’t you?” Beefer asked bluntly. “I’ve seen the way the muscles on your back move sometimes. Like an old habit. Trying to move something that’s no longer there. Where I have gained, you have lost. Both changed in an instant to be something unfamiliar.”

Well that was… uncomfortable to say the least. YS hadn’t really been planning to tell any of the others about his whole fallen angel thing, and realistically he didn’t want to talk about the way he lost his wings to begin with. Secrets weren’t the greatest things to keep, especially from yourself, but it was a traumatic event and he was more than within his rights to choose not to reopen that wound. Didn’t seem like he could avoid it anymore, not with this self at least.

Beefer took his silence as a go-ahead to keep talking, though. “Maybe it’s not the same really, but… I don’t have anyone else. I really can’t justify saying I have Pico right now and Cherry doesn’t get it. Is- does it get any better? You seem to be more or less tolerating the fact you’ve lost something important to your body. You know you’re not the same anymore but you seem to handle it way better than I do, and- please tell me it gets better. I feel so fucking alien and it’s like… yeah, I literally am an alien now. God, I don’t really know how to word this. I don’t feel like myself.I feel like I’m a spectator in my own body. It’s probably dysphoria and I really didn’t think I would ever experience that, and it’s weird because sometimes I look at myself and I don’t mind. I don’t mind because I know I did this to myself, deciding to be a fucking idiot and almost get myself killed. And sometimes the features really are cool. But then I think again, and suddenly everything is so fucking suffocating. You know it still hurts?”

YS blinked, trying to process everything. “Hurts? What hurts?”

Beefer sighed, grabbing onto his shoulder and pulling up the sleeve of his Dinaurian suit. The suit was designed to camo as the skin underneath, always throwing the rest of them for a loop, and it was weird to see it peeled back like a second skin. It seemed like even the suit had its limits on what to mimic as, though, because rolling the sleeve back revealed a nasty patch of a scar in the shape of a dinosaur’s fang. He looked between YS and his arm as he continued speaking. “It wasn’t exactly painless. Kind of like a vaccine booster but 100 times worse. I didn’t have to focus on it for long because I was busy throwing up all the poison that was literally killing me, but… sometimes it still hurts. And it reminds me every time it does. Cherry offered to let me use the human disguise device, but that feels awful in my head too. Because it’s a disguise. It’s not me anymore.”

This… was a first. Yourself had tried to get the alien to open up more about how this had happened, he only really knew bits and pieces. Knowing how gruesome and traumatic it actually was, he was surprised how well he was pretending to hold it all together really.

“Please just- tell me it gets better. I know you don’t know the future, and you don’t know everything. But you’ve had extreme changes to your body too. Just tell me it gets better. Tell me that with time I’m not going to constantly flip between being numb and accepting of this and violently hating myself the next second. I don’t know what I’m doing-”

Having heard more than enough, YS shook his head and pulled Beefer in for a tight hug. “Shit, man, you have it so much worse than I thought. Sorry. I- I don’t think I know how to really help you. That’s… a first.” He paused. Of course he didn’t know how to help. He didn’t have an experience like this. Having your wings torn off was one thing, but he still at least looked like himself in every other aspect. Beefer had gone through an entire body transformation just to keep himself alive. “It… it can get better. I’ve never really gotten over losing my wings, and I don’t think lying and saying I have will do any good. Not for you. Losing a part of yourself is never not going to be tough. And you feel like you’ve lost all of yourself, not just a part. Am I correct?”

Beefer nodded into the taller’s shoulder. His arms were curling around his back, funnily enough right below where YS knew his long healed scars were. Nails were bunching up parts of his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“I can’t pretend to know what that’s like physically. But I think it can get better. This is all still very recent for you and a lot more traumatic than you’re letting yourself think about. And the way you talk about your Pico and Cherry, you’re not letting yourself have a support network either. Because, what? You think they’ll only feel more guilt? Push you away more? I’m still pissed at your Pico to be honest but that’s not really my place or relevant right now. What I’m saying is let yourself have some time. Time to process. Mourn what you’ve lost and then work on going forward.” YS sighed, worrying his lip. “The rest of us BFs are normally just… shitters, really, because that’s just how we are. But I know all of them have the capacity to care and want to care. If you really need someone to talk to I think asking any of them would be successful. And yeah, none of us are going to know fully what to say. You’re the only instance so far that is a dinosaur alien. Dunno if there’s gonna be any more but. I would say hopefully not, but maybe I should say hopefully so. At least that way you’d have someone who knows exactly what you need.”

The two fell into silence, and for a moment YS wondered if he was really at all helping. But he could feel the smaller start to melt against him, mainly out of exhaustion. He was clearly tired, holding in a lot more than he was letting on. Having been cut off from any sort of comfort when he desperately needed it.

“It’s funny.” Beefer said after a while, not moving his face away from where he buried it into the crook of YS’s arm. “You really remind me of my brother, the more that I think about it. He’d probably say the same thing.”

Never has his blood felt like it froze faster than it had done now. Yourself’s grip tightened, seemingly unnoticed by Beefer- or he just didn’t care. His jaw clenched. “Brother…?”

“Yeah.” Beefer said, finally pulling away a little. “My brother. Shit, I didn’t mention him before did I? Oh… I haven’t seen him since everything happened either. He’ll be worried sick about me I think… But yeah. I have an actual adopted older brother. Caeru, that’s what he insists on being called. You remind me of him so much. He kind of looks like you too, honestly. Just like, way cleaner and put together.”

Caeru. Does this idiot think I’m fucking stupid? Latin for blue? YS thought bitterly. Well, maybe ‘idiot’ was rude, but he wasn’t talking about Beefer. He was talking about ‘Caeru’. BFs don’t have brothers aside from Ritz in some cases. Not a single world I’ve looked into has ever mentioned having a brother named Caeru. That’s not a brother. That’s another BF, and that’s not just any other BF. That’s a fucking ME, isn’t it? Using Latin?

“You alright? You’ve gone silent.” Beefer asked. “Something wrong?”

YS startled quickly, burying his thoughts and lying once again. “No, nothing. It’s fine. Just… thinking. Look, take as much time as you need here for now. I don’t mind.” Fucking stay out of your world when another one of me is fucking running around and apparently pretending to be your brother. Jesus christ.

He’d hoped there weren’t other versions of him that aligned with him specifically. So there really was more than one universe where something happens, something so devastating they became a Yourself kind of BF, huh? And Beefer clearly didn’t know. So that one was lying more egregiously. That was dangerous. Protect Beefer. Oh, what am I saying, Beefer can handle himself. I just don’t trust another instance of me that’s like me. Guess there’s another I have to keep tabs on without alerting this one of his brother being a liar.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 8: Not mine

After a couple of hours of talking, and mostly listening, to Rhoda and Chapman about dragon habits and needs, I promise to help look for a better place for me to live. Though my hope is that there aren’t any.

Dammit, even after my transformation I’m still fawning.

I think I need to talk to my counselor about having human grade C-PTSD as a dragon. I don’t think she’s qualified to assess that, but she can at least listen. Especially if I get another tablet, which, by the way, Kimberly says she might have for me.

She won’t be able to bring it to me until later tonight, or tomorrow morning, but that’s fine.

It’s her old one, though, and it has a shitty battery, which we’ll need to replace to make it actually useful for me. But Rhoda is the kind of person who knows who to go to for that, apparently.

It seems that Rhoda’s favorite thing to do is networking, and she networks with everyone.

It turns out that Chapman took the day off just to get that color booklet to me as soon as possible, and was able to because work was fortuitously so slow today. Hir boss almost suggested it before sie walked up and asked.

And now that we’ve had our meeting early, sie’s eager to go with Rhoda to the library. Any opportunity to research dragons further clearly excites the shit out of hir.

The two of them make quite the pair. Tall Rhoda with her purples and maroons, with long sleeves and stockings even in the summer heat, and a cane that’s basically too thick dowels nailed together with a miter joint, and short round Chapman’s ingenious mishmash of neon queer greaser roller derby 90’s ska punk perfection, walking side by side down the street. I feel like there’s some kind of power there. And if they were baubles, instead of people, they’d be the perfect start to a good hoard.

Watching them head toward the bus depot, I realize that what I’m about to do is very risky, all for the sake of something I don’t believe in.

I��d better do it right.

It’s about half past noon now, and the traffic has gotten heavier as people are on their lunch breaks. Which means I can’t really use any of the roads as a runway.

I step out from under the awning and look up at my building.

Time to climb it.

Oh, the police are going to love this if they see me doing it.

Whatever.

Using a stroke of my wings for assistance, I leap up to grab the edge of the awning, and then flapping them rapidly I work to pull myself up onto it. And I do much better than Whitman did in a similar situation. They must have been really stunned and scared.

There’s a fire escape around the corner of the building, and I could have just gone to that in the first place, actually. I do that now, to save myself a lot of effort. No need to scale a brick face where there are stairs. And those go up to the top floor!

At the top of those, I do a repeat of my hop and scrabble to get onto the roof.

It’s not the tallest building downtown, but it’s one of the few.

I’m going to head south, so jumping from the roof down over the street I usually use as a runway makes the most sense. But I’ve got something else I have to do first.

Determined to make it known that this place is mine, I pace around the full edge of the building, repeatedly making my signature challenge call.

Let it be known that if you can hear my voice, you are in my air! And you’d better turn away and find somewhere else to be.

After about halfway around the circumference of the building, I start hearing other cries echoing back, each one very different from the others. And I can actually visualize where I think they’re coming from.

I get sort of a map in my head of where some of the other dragons are in the city. I don’t think I could draw it, but I can see the only hole I can fly through without offending anyone. Jesus, we’re densely packed. And it’s not even all fifty that are supposed to be here. Maybe twelve others have answered.

This isn’t going to be good if we can’t make peace with each other somehow.

Even though I know it’s unreasonable, my feeling is that if they all recognize my superiority, we’ll be fine.

With this thought firmly in mind, just for the determination of it, I complete my circuit, and then position myself for take-off.

I’ve gotta give one more revving Harley squawk and air-ratchet chatter before I take off, so I do. And then I fall, spread my wings, and pull up to shoot out down the street just above tree level. Then, flapping laconically and heading for the strongest of the thermals in my path, I rebuild my altitude before heading out over the bay.

And the more distance I put between myself and my lair, the more I feel like I’m personally at risk and in danger. If someone takes my home, they take my hoard, such as it is, and they take my people. And I really can’t have that. I’d have to start all over again, of course. But also, it’d be like if someone kidnapped my parents and burned down their house, but worse.

I tell myself that my declaration has given me at least a couple hours of reprieve from challengers. Everyone has to know I’m in a mood, and maybe word of what I did to Whitman has started to get around. Though, Whitman’s yawp was not among the responses. I wonder where they live, or where they went after our fight.

They had headed south, on foot.

Hmm.

—

The cave I’m looking for is at the northern end of a trail that follows along the ridge of the foothill closest to the bay, south of the city. It’s technically inside city limits, but there’s no real development there. It’s officially a park on the east side of the ridge, with a smattering of housing developments on the west, facing the water and the sunsets. I’ve delivered pizza to a few of those houses before, during the three months I worked for a pizza place.

I didn’t hear any dragons here, which is either amazing or they just didn’t give a shit. Maybe my voice didn’t make it this far.

I go as far south as I dare and look for the parking lot at the trailhead there, and then follow the trail up and along the ridge. It’s not always visible from the air, but I know where it goes. I hiked it with my parents a couple times before my chronic fatigue set in.

The rocky outcrop that’s used as a viewpoint by hikers is easy to see, and I know it’s right near the end of the trail, so I land on that.

I take a moment to stand there and look out over the southern neighborhoods of the city, toward the arboretum where I humiliated Whitman.

I suspect I’m already in another dragon’s territory, so I’m quiet and alert.

I don’t even huff, though I want to.

Then I start following the trail toward the old mine, the one I’ve been thinking about for the past day. As quietly as I can move. Which is really amazingly quiet. I think. I’m not sure my ears work as well as they used to. They’re kind of hidden behind my head armor.

Whitman had parabolic bat-like ears. If this is Whitman’s territory, I’m going to have to assume they know I’m coming.

This is so stupid.

It’s also more of a hike down than I remember. Almost halfway back down the side of the mountain. And it is just tall enough to be registered as a mountain. Though, I think part of the onerous nature of my skulking exploration is that I’m walking on all fours and being as cautious as possible every inch of the way. 

And with each step, I’m afraid I’m going to be ambushed with napalm. Or teeth the size of my own horns and jaws designed to crush small boulders. Well, maybe two watermelons at the same time.

The thing is, though, I do think that this isn’t really Whitman’s kind of terrain. I’m probably more at home here than they are. If I see them coming, I should be able to dodge around trees so much more easily than they can follow.

But that doesn’t assuage my fear at all. Because if I don’t see them coming, I’m probably dead.

But, eventually I see the big mound of dirt jutting out from the side of the mountain that marks the opening of the mine.

I stop and listen. Then I taste the air.

I taste it repeatedly and a lot, moving my head back and forth.

I could actually sort of do this before my transformation. My tongue was always way more sensitive than my nose, and plugging my nose never made it so I couldn’t taste anything. But it’s nicer and more effective to have a longer tongue that’s split and more flexible, with a sort of hole in the center of my lips for it to slip out. And it is way more sensitive than it was before.

I don’t taste anything that I’d identify as another dragon.

And, also, the mouth of that man made cave isn’t any warmer than its surroundings.

I think that means that if there’s a dragon there it’s not Whitman. But I can’t bring myself to be sure that it’s vacant.

Maybe I should make a strategic noise. A call of challenge for this one only. Quiet, but not too quiet.

I’d rather call them out, bristling and ready to fight, than to stick my head into a gout of napalm.

Or maybe I should just leave, because this was a bad idea.

Experimentally, I rumble. And I stand there and rumble for quite a while, and nothing happens.

Realizing that it’s not working, I then make a squawk about the volume I’d use to call to someone across a crowded pub.

It sounds a lot louder than I’m comfortable with.

But there’s no response.

I stay still a while longer, still tasting the air and using my ears. My hearing might not be as good as it was, but I’m not not using it! I’m also keeping an eye out for any movement.

When I’m certain that there’s no dragon here that’s going to make themself known, I approach the cave.

But at the mouth of it, I taste the air again. Or, rather, I don’t stop tasting it the whole way, but I pause there to wave my head back and forth some more.

If anything, the air tastes like forest duff and vaguely of human urine.

Gross.

There is no heat in the cave. Even an endothermic dragon would likely be warmer than their surroundings. I think that once they got as cold as their surroundings, they’d need to warm them up somehow to not go into torpor, with how cool it is in there.

I’m just guessing. But it’s what I’m telling myself to get myself to go deeper in.

I move so slowly, one footstep at a time. Nothing.

Nobody.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can tell clearly that the cave is completely empty. It doesn’t even go that far back. Maybe thirty feet, just as I remember.

I also remember my parents telling me not to go all the way back, because in an abandoned mine that’s maybe a hundred years old, that’s really dangerous. Even though the walls and ceiling are solid rock. And, of course, it’s a square shaft.

Still, now I’m curious if I could even make it a comfortable home. It’s pretty small, with no room for even what I call a hoard. But I could put something in here and if I can turn around alright, maybe it’ll do while I work to assert my dominance over a larger region.

I want to know how it feels, and I just… I just…

It might be nice to sleep in here. Like, right now.

A Tumblr post I reblogged just last week comes to mind, and I’m sufficiently alarmed. No, no, no. I’ve got to get out of here quickly.

I’ll die.

I start backing up, scrunching up as I go, getting my head out of the back of this mine as fast as I can, when I hear, or rather feel, a powerful thump behind me.

In a horrific panic, without even really thinking, I scramble up the wall and across the ceiling like I’m trying to leave the bathroom in my apartment after using the toilet. And, wings held tightly against my ribs, tail scraping along the lower corner of the wall until it whips out behind me, I land facing the entrance without having advanced any further that way.

A quick breath gives me more oxygen than before, which is good.

Because there, right in front of me, are all the teeth of Whitman, coming right at me.

Two steps back, and another quick intake of air, this time not into my lungs, and I just barely avoid having my head snapped off.

We’re nose to nose, and I don’t even know if they can see me around their snout.

Their mouth opens quickly again to make another attack.

And I exhale.

The result is not good for either of us.

There is fire everywhere.

And even though my nictitating membranes have successfully protected my eyes from burning and from being hurt by the glare of heat, and my scaly hide seems to shrug off my own napalm just fine, the fire is eating up the oxygen in the mine extremely fast.

I have to get out as fast as I can. But to do that I have to go through an enormous flaming Whitman.

And they’re thrashing about in terror and pain, slamming their head against the sides, ceiling, and floor of the mine shaft, and I know better than to get any closer to that.

I can’t stop myself from taking another step back, despite that way being certain death. But I also can’t stop myself from making a noise.

At first it’s my ultra bass rumble, low enough that pebbles on the floor of the mine dance. Whitman’s got to feel it.

But they’re too distracted by napalm in their gullet to care.

I can’t even really see what’s going on. My eyes are cloudy with natural protection, and fire and chaotic movement is creating an unintelligibly blur of light and shadow. And I think I’m asphyxiating.

Needing as much oxygen and breath as I can get, I take a big breath of dangerous air, which might be a huge mistake, and start making the most humiliating sound I can think of. Humiliating for Whitman.

I fill the cave with a fire engine’s siren. No honks, no braps, just a constant, long warbling wail. And I start advancing, to make it get louder.

I want those ears to bleed.

Visually, I can’t tell if it’s working. My own snout is probably still aflame. But I do hear thumbs, scrapes, and yawps as Whitman continues to struggle and thrash.

They didn’t come very far into the cave, because I wasn’t all that far in there. They should be running out of walls to hit if they’re backing up. But I keep going, because I have no other choice. And I’ll know if I’ve misjudged when I get hit in the face with a hippo-dragon snout.

I lower my head, present my horns, and brace my neck to make a plunge, and then, convinced I’m committing suicide, I charge.

There’s a thump, a “Grawp”, and a big sliding sound as I move, but I don’t make impact.

Instead I come flying out of the mine through smoke and flames, and scrabble right over Whitman as they’re sliding down the far slope of the mine’s discarded rubble.

And I keep running. I’m not going to face that monster any longer than I have to.

I’m not on my own territory.

At some point I find a good place to take to the air, and I start heading home, out of breath and wobbling in the sky.

I notice when the fire on my snout goes out from the wind and exhaustion of fuel, because I can see again.

And I need to rest somewhere soon, but I’m headed straight for home over the territories of other dragons, and there’s nowhere safe between here and there.

—

The next morning falls with dew upon my head, and grows with a ravenous hunger in my belly. And I can hear seagulls crying out, begging me to eat them.

I’m on the roof of my building, where I collapsed after my flight home. And it seems I’ve slept unchallenged there for fifteen hours or so, if I’m reckoning time right.

Tentatively and gingerly licking my snout with my tongue, I find that I have not been burned by my own flame, but I can taste the traces of chaired fluids on my scales. My nictitating membranes flick into place as I lick my eyes, successfully cleaning them. And then I raise my head and look around.

I didn’t do any damage landing on the roof, so it seems I had a reasonable amount of control even then. Though I don’t fully remember that part.

I remember the flight as being longer than heading out to the cave, and filled with challenges from below. And I remember being quiet, because I needed my breath.

I remember gliding as much as I could to conserve energy and let oxygen build up in my blood.

And I remember deciding, no longer in lucid thought, that my building is my domain and determining to keep it, regardless of what any human says. It’s so fragile, and another dragon could knock it down or set it aflame. But it’s mine, and I’ve just got to do whatever I can to keep it safe.

And now I think about Whitman.

They’re in such a bad spot, with no shelter but a forest that doesn’t suit them, and hardly any people to call their own, unless they do have claim to the west side of the ridge.

I know it’s a bad spot, because they fell back to it after making the effort to drive into the heart of the city and try to take mine.

They must have been watching and tracking me, too. And used their infravision to pick out my apartment. Which speaks to a calculated scheme.

Do I, by chance, have a coveted spot? Or was I just the most vulnerable looking candidate in the downtown area. I am nearly in the center of it, and the nearest other dragons are in other neighborhoods. Which seems unlikely, by population densities. Statistically there should be another dragon or two nearer than that. I think.

Maybe Whitman was another downtown dragon, and that’s why they attacked so viciously and desperately.

I get up and stretch and raise my head to the sky.

After a long and loud challenging cry, I hear reports from my neighbors.

I almost feel reassured by them.

I do it again, and they repeat themselves.

Another.

It feels like they all enjoy this.

I wait.

Someone else calls out, and everyone else replies, including me.

I wonder what the rest of the city is thinking as we do this, joining the birds in the morning song.

And then when we’re done, I start looking out over my domain, looking for likely breakfasts.

I suspect that eating a seagull or two is going to be a confusing experience for me, but it’s going to happen.