#no one cares about Fallout and it really fucking sucks not having anyone that lets me talk about it without telling ne they don't care

[khazrablood]

Was finally pushed to play Infinite since all 3 remastered BioShocks were on sale for barely over $10 on xbox and I was starting to annoy and trigger with my daily event grinding. :')))

I am still not impressed and I guess I'm 65% done with the game according to my partner. I still feel nothing "BioShock" about this. Prob will continue to be mad even after the dlcs. I might as well get thru this before I replay 1 and 2 on this console since I'm too depressed to even play 76 now along with Cyberpunk.

Also, I fucking hate how they designed the women with massive doe eyes. It completely makes them look anime compared to the way men are and it drives me up the fucking wall. I cannot fucking stand having to look at Elizabeth's face bc wtfever this style is, it's so uncanny and looks like a terrible rendition of Shelly Duvall's face (at least that's who her face reminds me of in promo art and the like).

[belabellissima]

✨💭🍰 for the ask game!

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing:

Y’all started with the hard stuff 😅 alright uhhh

1) emotional - I feel like I'm really good at conveying what characters are feeling (at least when its angst) and bringing readers along on that journey

2) hopeful - except for my one mcd fic (but even then I wrote a second ending where it was happy and hopeful again), i only write happy endings. Like no matter how bad it gets, there's always something good waiting beyond that. Because life would suck without hope - it's imo one of the strongest things in the universe, and I like my writing to reflect that.

3) physical - i was told one (1) time during one of my classes that I was very good at writing the physicality of the characters during a fight scene, to the point that the reader had absolutely no trouble or confusion what-so-ever about where the character was, what they were doing, which hand the weapon was in, etc. and proceeded to make that my entire writing personality for years. Any time i write an action scene specifically, i think back to their complement and try to judge whether the new scene would get that same commentary, and if I think the answer is no, i go back and edit it to that internal standard. Which i think leaves the writing very easy to understand and easy for the reader to feel when reading.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

ooh this one took me awhile to come up with! I don't really know if it means like... about my writing as a whole? or just one of my fics? So I'm going with the second. I 100% headcanon that azris is real in my State of Grace series (ace!Elain and amnesia!Feysand). I have more fics planned in this series and hope to get azris' story one day, but i don't have any ideas at all for them yet so it remains headcanon. I also headcanon that when Nesta finds out Feyre thought she was a puca she finds it hilarious (though she'll never admit to it), and doesn't let Feyre live it down for at least a decade.

🍰 Name one eight of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

I have so many for all the different ships let me try and narrow it down😫 and put them below the cut!

Feysand:

The A Court of Faded Dreams series and The Outlier, both by the-lonelybarricade. ACoFD is so good at making the angst of UTM and the fallout of time travel be heartwarming, and is definitely a favorite of mine to reread. Meanwhile The Outlier is adorable and definitely a comfort fic when I want to read something short and sweet with flustered!Rhys.

A Court Outside of Time by Sonata_IX - I reread this one so often its not even funny. Feyre trying to seduce Rhys while he's still wearing his UTM mask is hilarious, heartbreaking, heartwarming, and all around amazing. And the Starfall scene???? Rhys learning he's going to be a dad?🥹

What Dreams May Come by as_with_a_sunbeam - sick fic with feyre taking care of Rhys. What else is there to say? Feyre's desperation to save Rhys, only to be as self-sacrificial as him and give him up? It's so good I can feel Rhys' heartbreak every time I read, which makes the happy ending so so sweet.

Nessian:

Anything by TheTeaQueen - she writes Nesta so fucking well and has put out phenomenal fics focusing on Rhys and Nesta bonding. I'm in awe with every single one. Of Death and Resurrection specifically is amazing, and one I return to over and over again.

Begged and Borrowed Time by daughterofthesea - seriously go read this fic. Its so good and heartwarming and heartbreaking all at the same time. One of my favorites hands down - Cassian noticing the embroidery right off the bat? Seeing something that even her sisters haven't noticed? Nesta admitting the truth to him when she can't to anyone else? I die in the best way. 🥹

Elucien:

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room and Don't Blame Me by separatist-apologist are my go-to fics when I need a pick-me-up. I think don't blame me was actually the first of mb's fics I ever read (it is I just checked), and SDIABR will always hold my heart with the fake-courting to real-feelings pipeline, and the way Lucien reacts when he learns of the truth, running around all night to help them out.

Literally the reason it took so many days to post this is that I got sucked into rereading these fics as I linked them😅

[shantyslimes]

Whenever I hear someone say that silent protagonists aren't immersive I can't help but think about how for years people made fun of Bioware games having dialogue options like "hey don't kill eachother" and the character actually saying "you're both lame idiots who nobody loves fuck you you suck absolute waste of precious oxygen smh" because a character with a voice inherently changes the meaning from text. Plain text is forced to be clear in its tone and how harshly it tries to be.

Remember how in Fallout 4 how every single dialogue had a "sarcastic" response which was usually just you being an asshole and the conversation not moving at all? Or that one robot you can talk to who describes methods of cooking and killing you, and your dialogue options are all responses to the different methods it describes. But your character literally just says "What?" for all the options.

I see more depth of personality from the Fledgling in vtmb having options between "I listened very closely, here's what was said to me" and "something about anarchism? I wasn't really paying attention" partly because every time I play for the anarch ending, I say I wasn't listening. Because I, the player, interpret that as not letting on that I was taken by what was said to me. In either case it doesn't change the response LaCroix gives. "You would do well to pay attention to what everyone says"

If those lines were read by a voice actor then it wouldn't add to my immersion. It doesn't help my mental image of my character absentmindedly picking wax out of their ear. It sits you down and tells you "this is how the line is being said." and leaves me with less room to put my own voice in the world.

In games like bloodlines especially that's important because you're a POV character. They exist to be projected upon. I don't think I've heard anyone say they're more immersed by the Fallout 4 protagonist having a voice, if anything I remember everyone being frustrated and annoyed by them being an extremely fixed character without much room to make them your own outside of what faction you work for and what build you use. But everyone loves how the Courier felt like a person who existed in the world before you started playing yet never imposed itself upon you, meaning you were able to roleplay and actually get immersed without the main quest being entirely about how your character had a life before you that you don't care about. Back to Bloodlines, how you play the fledgling is up to you, but you know they had a life before you, because one of your friends before you were embraced, in a panic, tries to bring you back to your old life after you disappeared. She assures you everything is going to be okay, that it's fine that you vanished but now you can come home. And you tell her no. Because in the players mind, you were minding your own business and now you're being ambushed by someone who you have no idea about. When the game tells you that you've redeemed the masquerade for it, you realise that woman was right. Your character used to know her. The themes of VTMs horror is sold more by your own choices of dialogue being rewarded than having a voice actor stammer out lines to make it clear that they're lying ever could. Hell, assume you the player pick up on it immediately as many do, and you still have to lie to her. The game doesn't give you an option to go back, but it's an act of quiet horror that you have no choice but to commit to, just like how the fledgling has to knowingly lie to this woman. If you had a voice, and could hear the performance, unless it was played to damn near perfection, you'd lose something by not feeling these be your own choices that you need to commit to.

If in Fallout 4, you had no voice but the world simply reacted to you diving into the most secure location in the country just find your kid, people asking how you did it, being amazed that love can drive someone that far, or even horrified at the implication that you managed to pull it off, then people would lavish it with praise. Like they did when that happened in Fallout New Vegas, and the moment you've hunted down and killed the guy who tried to kill you, every major faction starts gunning for your attention because that's an insane thing to do and they want you. It's not the voice that ruins that idea, but the writing surrounding the player.

Anyway tl;dr voiced protagonists aren't more immersive you just need to write really well and people will praise the writing.

[lenakluthor]

okay i just literally said to my dog “i should start talking to myself more. might as well practice with myself so i’m not an idiot around people!” and that has spurred on such a depressing spiral that i need to get my thoughts out somewhere, so very depressing personal vent post under the cut. you’ve been warned.

okay so this all started because i read a fic that had such an unsatisfying ending, i was yelling about it. actually yelling. and it felt good to speak words out loud. i’ve spent the majority of my time unemployed (so the last four months) alone. in my house. in complete silence. and i didn’t really realize how much that affected me until i started talking. so then i just started talking to myself, and then my dog. and verbalizing to myself that maybe i need to practice having conversations, even if it’s with my own damn self, made me kind of snap. i immediately followed up with, “oh my god i am going insane.” and then i started thinking about covid and quarantine. how this is not the first time i’ve been isolated. only, it’s worse.

during quarantine, i still had friends. i hadn’t yet lost my ride or die, facetime multiple times a day, share everything with her, best friend. she hadn’t yet asked me if i had feelings for her. i hadn’t yet told her that i wasn’t sure if what i was feeling was romantic or if i was just confused because for once, i had someone who cared about me. i had a fucking friend that i could do all those things with. she hadn’t unceremoniously kicked me to the curb the second i got in the way of her godawful boyfriend. and because that hadn’t happened yet, i hadn’t yet cut myself completely off from the world. i literally have not made a single new friend since our fallout. in 2021.

so anyway, all that to say quarantine was good. it was fun. the circumstances sucked, but i wasn’t alone. i facetimed friends all the time. i got a welcome break from my retail job. i was picking up new hobbies. and once more for emphasis, i had friends.

this time, though? losing my job effectively cut me off from the rest of the world. i have no friends in my area. my best friend from childhood didn’t even remember my birthday in november. and i am so fucked up and insecure about everything that went down with lilly (the ex best friend mentioned above), that i stopped letting people in. she wasn’t the first person to just drop me when i got to be too much. in fact, every single best friend i’ve ever had has, rather abruptly, ended our friendships. so when lilly did it to me in 2021, i just. stopped trying. except now here i am, in 2024, completely alone. and without my job to get me out of the house, i don’t leave.

my mom constantly wants to badger me about losing weight. to the point that i’ve convinced myself it is literally all anyone sees about me. pair that with losing every friend i’ve ever had? i slowly stopped leaving my house. losing my job was the last straw. i’ve barely left my house in four months. in fact, the only thing i’ve left my house for is acting classes.

i’m rambling and not talking about what i really wanted to talk about, which is: this isolation is worse than quarantine. i’m not isolated because i have to be. i’m isolated because i have no one near me. my closest online friendships are great and i treasure them, but it’s not the same. i’m too afraid and insecure and, honestly, scared to leave my house and go out into the world by myself. and realizing that i’ve barely even spoken in the last four months broke something in my brain.

i don’t know how i got here. i don’t know when my depression and anxiety took over my life so completely that i became terrified of the world around me. i used to do things. i used to have friends. i used to believe, adamantly, that my job on this earth was to give love to other people. but now? the worst depressive episode of my life cost me my job. i’ve been applying and applying and can’t get another one. i spend every day alone in silence at my house because i have no friends and i don’t know how to make new ones. and even if i did, i’m too afraid to try. i am in hell. i am going crazy, completely isolated, and there is absolutely no reason for it. except, how am i supposed to pull myself out of this. I AM COMPLETELY ALONE. and i’ve been dealing with everything alone for so long that i just. i can’t do it alone anymore. and that’s so upsetting because i want more than anything to build myself a community but i don’t fucking know how to do it.

so instead, i’ve spent four months in my house. silent. with nobody to talk to. and i’m not saying i haven’t talked to people. i have a couple very very dear online friends. but i don’t have anyone to literally speak to. out loud. nobody to come over on a whim. nobody to just randomly go to target with or bring along just to get groceries. nobody to go visit and just sit around getting stoned and watching tv or doing something completely unexciting. and it fucking sucks. and i just. i don’t know how much longer i can live like this and i don’t know how to pull myself out.

my life is so depressing and the worst part is, i desperately want to fix it. but it’s been four months and here i am, talking to myself just so i don’t forget how to speak. having conversations with my dog just so i’m not rusty when i actually see real people.

how the FUCK did i get here?

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

Oh hello, episode 4. Let’s see if you have more memorable things than the first three episodes did.

1.) It’s hard for Max to see that Billy is wrong ‘cause he’s always a kind of a jerk.

2.) I love Max telling El about comic books, especially Wonder Woman.

3.) I forgot how crazy the old woman is acting when they take her away in an ambulance.

4.) I can’t remember if Heather survives this season, but she’s gonna need a lot of therapy if she does survive and does remember it, because leaving her begging, sobbing parents in a basement to be possessed isn’t something you really get over.

5.) Real shitty of the mindflayer for making people be awake for the possession. Like c’mon.

6.) Why is Hopper not in a hospital?

7.) The boys are terrible at communication.

8.) Robin has a plan and took all the tips.

9.) I had thought that Heather’s dad looked familiar and had already forgotten until I saw him again that he’s the douchebag head of the paper.

10.) Is Mrs. Driscoll actually a paranoid schizophrenic or were they just having this man be weird?

11.) Nancy and Jonathan got fired.

12.) We gotta get El on a roller coaster.

13.) Learning about hosts for the Mind Flayer.

14.) Larry is a terrible liar. You’d think a politician would be a better liar. Actually scratch that, that makes sense.

15.) It is very hard to blackmail someone who has blackmail on you too.

16.) “Don’t give me that dead daughter sob story, because I just don’t care.” Shocked Hopper only broke his nose and not killed him.

17.) Ohhhhh. I forgot Hopper threatens to chop the man’s finger off with a cigar cutter.

18.) “Oliver Twist routine” Nancy really is classist. Also if Ted Wheeler really did make 6 figures in the 1980s, they really really were well off.

19.) Dustin is like Gumbo.

20.) I didn’t know Billy even owned a shirt. Did the Mind Flayer have to go shopping?

21.) ‘Boys only’? You’re being dumb, Mike.

22.) Having Erica be a huge fan of capitalism sucks. Bare minimum I need someone to have her eventually grow out of this immature phase and be like, “yeah, no, that was stupid. Capitalism sucks.” Because kids, capitalism sucks. It hurts everyone but the ultra rich.

23.) I forgot the mayor keeps the papers in his ugly house.

24.) I really do like to see Hopper outside of his work uniform. I also like to see JOyce putting stuff together.

25.) Aw, Nancy actually went to her mom.

26.) Like this is really a surface level reading of feminism to think ‘I am a woman and therefore damn the fallout and consequences because I am woman, hear me roar’ is the end all to be all. Like I love Nancy and Karen talking and loving each other but she did still blow up Jonathan’s spot and refer to him talking about his economic circumstances as ‘Oliver twist routine’. Like that was fucked up.

27.) I forgot how genuinely worried Max was about Billy. She really really hoped it wasn’t Billy that was the new host.

28.) Operation Child Endangerment is a great name, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, Erica.

29.) You’d think a guy like a mayor would have handcuff keys by his bed.

30.) Steve is so fucking worried up until Erica walks through those doors.

31.) The wild thing is I’ve thought Billy’s actor, Dacre, is attractive in other things, but I do not think he’s attractive at all as Billy. Like both because of the hair and the attitude. He’s just terminally unfuckable to me. And it’s one of the many reasons I hate Steve/Billy. I also hate Eddie/Billy.

32.) Billy hit the back wall hard enough to break tiles. Either that or they’re shitty tiles.

33.) Fun fact, HIPAA didn’t exist until the 90s so the only thing stopping Nancy from just being a concerned neighbor getting answers would be hospital policy and how willing to talk the front desk woman is.

34.) “If you die, I die.” “…Okay.”

35.) I forgot that the fucking elevator plummets like it’s a goddamn roller coaster ride.

36.) I had blocked out Billy sobbing in the sauna and saying ‘he made me do it’ entirely.

37.) Max is so sad and so worried about Max.

38.) if Will didn’t have Spidey senses, Max would have gotten stabbed with broken tile and sauna glass.

39.) I forgot Billy gets pinned to the wall with weights and it keeps cutting back to Mrs. Driscoll looking horrifying.

40.) I also forgot that Billy’s body is forced to choke El. Also that Mike is the one who takes a bat to possessed Billy to save her.

41.) And then Billy got thrown through a brick wall before getting up and walking off.

42.) There’s so many people in that abandoned factory.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Hello! So, something that always intrigued me is the concept of “reverse aus,” and I’ve been thinking about that in the context of Cobra Kai for a while now. How do you think it would go down if Demetri was the one to get roped into Cobra Kai? Obviously, I don’t think he would be as into as Eli canonically was (probably due to it becoming a special interest for him), but I’d be curious to hear your take on it. Would Eli end up going to Miyagi-Do like canon Demetri did, or would Demetri and Eli sort of become the new Evil Karate Husbands™️? And possibly, how do you think Demetri and Johnny’s dynamic would go? (I’m just going to awkwardly add that this is cc-tinslebee, coming to you live from my main blog because I don’t think Tumblr let’s sideblogs send asks-)

So this is actually the SECOND ask I’ve gotten about this scenario--Cherry sent in another one!--so I figured I’d give it a stab. Took me a while to work out how I think it would go and how everything would play out different if Demetri and Eli’s roles were reversed, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I tried to make it more interesting than just “Demetri does all the stuff Eli does and Eli does all the stuff Demetri does.”

Also I lowkey LOVE the idea of Evil Karate Husbands and even though that isn’t the direction this particular AU goes in, I might do a divergent spin-off AU to explore that too??? Because man...the thought of Miguel desperately trying to save his two best friends who have fallen to the dark side...*cries*

Fair warning that this AU is gonna get dark as shit--I fully belive things would’ve gotten equally fucked up between them in a role reverse AU, just, ah...in slightly different ways. A lot of this will not be Happy Times later on, much like their canon relationship XD

OKAY TIME FOR PAIN, LET’S GOOOO

Longboi post so be warned!!!

Season 1

After getting his ass handed to him--for trying to stick up for Eli, no less--Demetri was pissed. Why the hell was he paying some guy to beat him up for daining to have a problem with him bullying his best friend? Going home in a rage, he nearly texted Miguel to tell him he was quitting--but something stopped him just before he hit Send.

He remembered the look on Eli’s face just after Kyler shoved him away. He remembered seeing Eli stiffen when Kyler grabbed him by the chin, practically feeling the terror emanate from his friend’s body. He remembered how completely and infuriatingly helpless he felt.

It certainly wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. But maybe if Miguel was onto something--maybe if karate really could protect him and Eli from the bullies--it could be the last.

Mr. Lawrence (or Sensei Lawrence, as he obnoxiously insisted on being called) hardly let up on bullying Eli. Even at Eli’s request not to call him “Lip” and the pleading of his star student Miguel Diaz himself, the man only seemed to crack down harder--in some sort of twisted effort to “toughen Eli up,” Demetri guessed. Demetri defended Eli every single time, not mincing any words mouthing off at Sensei Lawrence. It got Demetri punched in the face, flipped on the mat, saddled with much harder drills than the rest of the class, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t about to let anyone treat Eli like that, no matter what pain he had to endure for it.

Johnny, meanwhile, is immensely annoyed by this obnoxious, sarcastic kid who just can’t stop running his mouth--but working him twice as hard as the rest of the class is proving to be fruitless in shutting him up. But, Johnny’s finding, Demetri constantly antagonizing him doesn’t have to be a hindrance. Anger like that can be weaponized--the more he provokes Demetri, the more he insults and belittles that Eli kid he’s so attached to, the harder Demetri punches. The quicker he moves when he fights. The stronger he kicks. Johnny sometimes comes home after training covered in nasty bruises, almost entirely from sparring Demetri--they’re enough to make Carmen and Rosa Diaz worry he’s getting jumped on the way home.

One day Johnny takes his ribbing of Eli just a little too far, hoping to get an especially vicious reaction out of Demetri. Eli, pushed to the end of his rope, runs out of the dojo, barely holding back tears. Demetri starts to go after him, but Miguel puts a hand on his arm and stops him, saying they can both check up on him later.

When Demetri finds Eli after practice, Eli’s sobbing. “I can’t do this anymore, Deme. No matter what you say to him, he just keeps picking on me. It never stops.” Demetri winces, because Eli isn’t wrong--Sensei Lawrence really hasn’t stopped bullying Eli at all, and while Demetri was busy letting himself get riled up by it, he didn’t actually think to see how it was affecting Eli. “Well, I know it sucks now, and Mr. Lawrence is a huge asshole, but we’re learning to be tough,” Demetri reasons. “We’re learning to be intimidating. A few more months here, and the bullies will never touch us again! Just like Miguel!” And Eli just scowls, uncharacteristically angry for his timid self, and says “Well, it’s not worth it if I have to feel like shit the whole time! If every time I step in here I get everything about me picked apart, over and over again! I’m done with this, Demetri.”

And just like that, Eli is out of the dojo. Demetri can’t help but be disappointed--he’d looked forward to them training together, and seeing Eli become a badass, fearless fighter who could hand Kyler’s ass to him after all those fucked up things he said to Eli. And to make matters worse, Sensei Lawrence doesn’t stop using Eli as fuel to rip out Demetri’s rage long after Eli’s gone. “Oooh, Loudmouth, feeling sad today? Missing Lip the Quitter?” “You keep throwing punches like that, and you could get beat up by that loser with the fucked lip you were so enamored with. Although knowing you, you’d let him win anyways.” And Demetri can’t help but hate the man, but damn, if it doesn’t feel good to land an especially good hit on him, or jab him in the thigh with a powerful kick.

But things aren’t bad--Demetri still has Miguel, and their new friend Aisha. Eli still hangs out with them outside of practice, and indulges Demetri in his ever-increasing ramblings about martial arts, no matter how nervous and uncomfortable karate tends to make Eli. If Demetri likes it that much, maybe he should make an effort to show interest in it. The four of them crash Yasmine’s birthday party, and Demetri even finds himself smooth-talking them into getting alcohol with his newfound confidence. After all, if he can land punches faster than a snake can strike, how difficult can it be to weasel his way into getting a little beer?

Meanwhile Moon, feeling understandably unfulfilled in her popular clique, takes an interest in the Cool New Karate Gang in town, and after apologizing to Aisha at the beach rager, the two strike up a friendship. She comes to hang out with their group more and more, and Eli finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Moon constantly makes an effort to include him when the others get to wrapped up talking about karate, and he appreciates her kindness and sincerity. It’s odd, really, how easy it is to have a conversation with her, considering how nervous he tends to get around her. But Eli doesn’t think too much about it.

When it comes time for the tournament, Moon and Eli go together to support their friends. Eli finds his gaze flickering back and forth between Moon and Demetri, lingering on each of them longer than he would care to admit--and he can’t quite explain why. Something about Moon’s wide, excited smile, the smell of cherry shampoo in her hair...but also Demetri’s smug, triumphant smirk when he pulls off an especially impressive move, the way his wiry arm muscles ripple when he fights. They’re both just so...captivating.

Demetri, for his part, is ruthless. Much more so than Eli has ever seen him be. He’s always been sarcastic and cynical, but resigned to his fate--at the tournament, Demetri lashes out in vicious ways the old Demetri would never have had the courage to pull off. He talks shit to the other contestants far beyond what’s considered “sportsmanlike”--and Eli can tell he’s not holding back, with the theatrical body language channeling every awful thing he’s saying.

Demetri fights like lightning--he weaves and maneuvers and strikes at breakneck speed, a limber, flashing form hitting all across his opponent’s bodies before they have any idea what’s happening. He dodges hits and jumps aside like he has some cosmic sense of when and where they’re coming. And it scares Eli, seeing a viciousness and relentlessness in Demetri that he’s never encountered before--but somehow, he finds, he just can’t look away.

Season 2

After the tournament, Demetri’s life has never been better. At the summer’s start, he’s still riding the high of the Cobra Kai tournament win. He didn’t take home the trophy, but suffice to say he got much farther than anyone believed a scrawny, lanky nerd ever would, and he is incredibly smug about it. He realizes, at the end of the day, he’s gotten what he always wanted after all--the bullies don’t come near him and Eli at all, and he can rest easy, knowing Eli is finally safe. However, he’s so busy embracing his new skills that at times, he almost forgets that was ever even an issue. His newfound fighting prowess has caught the attention of Yasmine, of all people--maybe someone who can throw kicks that good isn’t as much of a loser as she originally thought.

She finds out after her family’s plans to go to France for the summer fall through, and she finally patches things up with Moon after their fallout at the beach party. Moon can’t stop gushing about how amazing Demetri was at the tournament--both she and her new friend Eli (who Yasmine definitely thinks seems like a weirdo, but hey--maybe if Moon thinks he’s worth her time, he can’t be that much of a loser) were so impressed with him. Interest piqued, Yasmine joins their little but ever-growing group. She finds herself quickly drawn in by Demetri’s ever-growing confidence, intelligence, and surprisingly enjoyable (if somewhat annoying) sense of humor, and before long, the two are dating.

Yasmine and Aisha are...cool. Kind of. Yasmine doesn’t quite apologize, and the two aren’t friends by any stretch of imagination, but they tolerate each other, and Yasmine refrains from making awful comments and picking on Aisha in front of their friends. Aisha, for her part, does her best not to lash out or be mean to Yasmine either, keeping the peace mainly for Demetri’s and Moon’s sakes.

Meanwhile, it would take an idiot not to notice the rather starstruck looks Eli’s been shooting in Moon’s direction. Moon, for her part, is either entirely oblivious or simply doesn’t even think to consider a shy, timid, nerdy kid as a romantic option, even if she does consider him a friend.

Oddly, Demetri finds himself extremely bothered by Eli’s doe-eyed crush on Moon. He really can’t place why--he has a girlfriend already, so it really shouldn’t bug him so much that Eli is finally growing noticably interested in girls too, now that they tend to be in closer proximity. And it’s not even like Moon seems to be at all interested in reciprocating. Maybe, he figures, it’s the fact that Moon never would have even looked their way if it weren’t for the fact that he and Miguel and Aisha were the “Cool Karate Gang.” The same karate gang, of course, that Eli quit. That Eli didn’t have it in him to fully be a part of. And yet here he is, reaping the benefits still.

Interestingly, Yasmine also seems bothered by Eli’s affections for her friend. Demetri feels her stiffen beside him and sees her shooting disapproving looks whenever she catches Eli staring at Moon. Demetri isn’t sure why she seems to take issue with this too--perhaps she thinks Moon is too good for Eli, and her friend deserves better than a shy, awkward nerd.

Something about this mindset very much rubs Demetri the wrong way, but he pushes the feeling aside. Maybe he should count his blessings instead of being so inwardly critical of his girlfriend. After all, not everyone gets to date the hottest girl in school.

The day of Valley Fest arrives, and Yasmine goes to support her boyfriend. Moon and Eli tag along, eager to support their friends as well. Caught up in the thrill of the blaring music, the bright, flashing lights, the audience cheering, Demetri feels a wave of pride as he looks at his little group of friends that came for him, yelling and whooping and jumping up and down. For some reason, he finds his gaze drawn specifically to Eli, wearing a grin bigger than Demetri’s seen in months and eyes absolutely glowing.

Suddenly Demetri feels an overpowering urge to wrap Eli up in this world he’s fallen in love with, immerse him entirely in the karate that’s made Demetri feel so much more happy and free in the past several months. Grinning, he strides forward and reaches down, using the absurd upper body strength he’s built up since he’s started karate to yank Eli up onto the stage. He hands his best friend a wooden board and steps back, racing forward and snapping it in half with a jumping roundhouse kick. For a few seconds, Eli can do nothing but stare at the broken board, something shifting inside of him.

After that, Eli decides maybe it’s time to give karate another go. Something about the way Demetri positively shone onstage--how genuinely happy all of it seemed to make him--makes him thing it can’t be so bad, even if he does get taunted for his lip again.

He stops by the dojo the following week, gathering up every ounce of courage he has to ask that mean blonde man how he goes about joining the dojo again. He’s hoping against hope that maybe, after all these months of teaching students and a tournament win under his belt, the edge of his pathetic cruelty will at least have been taken off.

No such luck. Upon seeing Eli walk into the dojo, Johnny greets him with “Hey, Lip is back! Real world not treat you as nicely as you thought?” The two are, regrettably, completely alone in the dojo. Eli sucks in his breath--Demetri isn’t around, so if anyone is going to defend him, it’ll have to be him himself.

“Could you please not call me that?” His voice shakes as he says it, but nonetheless, he finishes the statement. It occurs to him that not once in his (admittedly brief) stay in Cobra Kai did he simply...request that Sensei Lawrence not call him Lip. Demetri’s approach was always to get angry about it, go off on the sensei about how wrong it was to mock someone’s appearance, but Eli himself had never been the one to make a case for Sensei Lawrence to treat him better.

It hardly helped. Sensei Lawrence just claimed that if he didn’t want him to call him Lip, he shouldn’t have a freaky lip, and then went on to claim whoever did his cleft lip surgery must have done an awful job. Eli attempted to move away from the topic, but Sensei Lawrence didn’t let up. “It’s hard to when it’s right in front of me. Hard to believe Demetri was so willing to defend you like some knight in shining armor or some shit. You’re pathetic.” Having heard enough, Eli storms out, anger overtaking him. How could he have been so stupid, to think this was going to go any better? Why did he think that just because this man had been willing to help Miguel and Demetri (who were normal) become badass meant he would extend the same treatment to the freak with the lip scar?

Eli calls Demetri in tears. “I don’t know how you can train with someone like him,” Eli spits out. “He’s a shit person, Demetri. I--I don’t know what you and Miguel are thinking. It’s like he gets some kind of...I don’t know, sadistic pleasure out of bullying people. He’s not any better than the people he claims he’s trying to help you fight.”

Demetri, to his horror, reacts only with scorn, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “God, all this drama because he was mean about your lip again? Jesus christ, grow a backbone, Eli. I hate to say it, but I think Mr. Lawrence was right--if you can’t even handle someone making some insensitive comments about your scar, how are you going to handle an elbow to the teeth? Or any training more intensive than a slap on the wrist, anyway?”

Eli can do nothing but just stare at him through the screen. Demetri, the one person who he has always been able to count on to not comment on his scar, the one person who has always comforted him or talked him through it when he cried, is brushing him completely off--being an asshole about the one thing Eli was certain he never would be. Why is Demetri, of all people, not taking his side on this?

All Eli knows for sure is that he doesn’t like this new version of Demetri one bit. What happened to the best friend who was always willing to fight for him, no matter what it took? Now, he seems more concerned with looking cool and tough and upkeeping some kind of ridiculous reputation than Eli’s own well-being.

Over the next few days, a rage he didn’t know he even had in him bubbles up inside Eli. He decides if Demetri’s going to play dirty, so is he. And maybe, if Eli plays his cards right, the old Demetri will come back.

Despite his long-standing frustration with the way adults treat him--delicately, condescendingly, like a Thing of Pity--Eli figures he can get some use out of it for once. If this is the only way they’re going to see him regardless, he might as well use it to his advantage. And so he goes crying to his mom, who he knows for a fact other adults talk about being a “valued member of the community” and probably has some influence and some strings she can pull. He bawls to her about how his best friend has turned into an unrecognizable jerk, all because he’s training with a middle-aged man with the mindset of a high school bully who has no issue verbally abusing his students. Sure enough, discussions are had with the Neighborhood Committee, phone calls are placed, and Eli overhears his mother vowing to shut down that degenerate karate place if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Meanwhile, back at the dojo, Kreese makes an announcement. The elderly, intimidating man has recently teamed up with Johnny to teach--and he gives Demetri the creeps, if he’s honest, but he seems to know his stuff when it comes to karate, so Demetri goes along with this new addition to the sensei roster. However, when Johnny goes off to visit his high school friends and leaves the kids alone with the new Sensei, Demetri can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Now, the dojo’s been getting some concerned phone calls,” Kreese says, arms crossed and expression difficult to read. He doesn’t seem to be angry--if anything, he looks faintly amused. “Parents of the local teenagers are worried. They think Cobra Kai is full of bullies. Think our methods are...abusive, even. They want to shut us down.” Worried murmurs start to echo around the room, but Kreese silences them as he goes on. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be a problem. I have my ways of talking people down. We know better, anyhow. They’re just...intimidated by us, because we’ve honed skills here they couldn’t even dream of having. But nonetheless...” Kreese smirks in a way that makes Demetri feels ever-so-slightly unnerved. “If you run into one of your little peers whining to your parents about getting rid of us, well...show them Cobra Kai can’t be messed with so easily.”

And suddenly Demetri’s seething, because he knows exactly who made sure those phone calls got made.

Eli, for all his timidness, is notoriously smart. Demetri knows this intimately. He’d hardly put it past Eli to be this cunning, to manipulate the pitying adults around him to get what he wants.

When the Cobra Kai kids take a trip to the mall later that day, Demetri knows exactly where Eli will be. Every Wednesday, a new issue of Dungeon Lord comes out--they used to go get it together, but since getting into karate, Demetri hasn’t been keeping up. Demetri would figure someone like Eli wouldn’t have the balls to go out in public alone, if not for the fact that he knew how invested Eli was in the current plot.

And so Demetri heads to the comic book store, a group of reluctant Cobra Kai “pledges” in tow. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic, but he likes having someone to be able to boss around--it feels nice to be at the top of the food chain for once. Lord knows it’s the first time that’s happened. And if he isn’t going to milk that tournament win for all it’s worth, then what even is the point?

When Demetri arrives, Eli turns to look at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he says, lip curling slightly. “I figured you were too tough for this kind of stuff now.”

Demetri just scoffs and crosses his arms. “Well, Mr. Kreese said the dojo’s been getting some calls from weepy parents concerned we’re bullying their poor kids. Saying our Senseis must be some evil, abusive monsters twisting and corrupting the neighborhood teenagers. So I think you know exactly why I’m here.”

Eli just looks at him with a doe-eyed innocence that makes his blood boil. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Demetri advances on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t bullshit me, Eli. I know you’ve been meddling.”

To his surprise, Eli looks up to meet his gaze evenly, pretense of naiveté completely gone. “And what if I have? I don’t like the influence they’re having on you.”

Well, Demetri doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t like it. “What is it about Cobra Kai that’s got you in such a tiffy, huh? You’re jealous I found a way to fight back and actually protect us? You don’t like that I’m not a pathetic loser you can look down your nose at anymore?”

Eli just looks at him in bewilderment. “Jesus, no, that’s not it at all, dude. Just...do you even hear yourself? You’ve turned into such an asshole since you started all that karate shit. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You walk around thinking you’re hot shit and everyone has to bow down to you all because your dojo won some stupid tournament. Well, news flash, Demetri--nobody cares.”

The callous way Eli, of all people, says it can’t help but throw him off. Is that really what his best friend thinks about him now--that he’s just some arrogant prick strutting around flaunting his success?

And then Demetri remembers how he got here--what it was that pushed him to be such a hard-assed fighter in the first place--and he feels a wave of venom coarse through him so powerful that he nearly chokes on it. Before he knows it he’s grabbing Eli by the shoulders and shoving him up against the wall.

“You fucking ungrateful brat,” he spits out, his words poison. “I did it all for you, you know. Everything I did was so that I could finally protect you. And this is how you thank me? After I’ve been getting my ass kicked over and over again so you wouldn’t have to worry about bullies anymore?”

Eli is surprisingly unfazed. “And where was I when you were learning to be such a good protector, Demetri? Getting shit on as a tool to motivate you? Nobody bothering to check how I felt about that? A real good bodyguard you turned out to be.”

“And yet Kyler and his little posse haven’t bothered you once. Who do you think that’s thanks to?”

“Miguel too. You don’t get all the credit. And anyhow, not like it matters when your Senseis would just as soon take the same cheap shots.”

Demetri just curls his lip. “Don’t get mad at me because you were too weak to survive Cobra Kai. Because...what, a middle-aged karate teacher hurt your feelings? I’d like to see how you go about taking a real fist to the jaw.”

Demetri raises a fist as if to demonstrate. Eli flinches, anger and defiance suddenly completely gone as his eyes widen in horror.

“You’d actually hurt me?” he asks softly.

Demetri slowly lowers his fist, realizing the answer as soon as he sees the terrified look in his friend’s eyes.

“Consider this your warning, Eli,” he spits out, with as much venom as he can manage. “Don’t mess around with Cobra Kai, or things are going to get ugly.” He smirks--a little sadistically, he has to admit. “You saw the tournament. Well...you’d better believe that’s the least of what I can do.”

When a downtrodden Eli shows up at Daniel LaRusso’s front door, timidly requesting to learn karate, far be it from Daniel to turn away a new student. Eli’s sob story about how he’s being bullied and threatened by his best friend only makes the new sensei more determined to take him under his wing--Daniel is no stranger to bullying, after all.

The next time Cobra Kai goes on an outing to the mall, Demetri catches Eli in the food court, eating with Samantha LaRusso and that kid whose ass he kicked at the tournament--Robby Keene, was his name? Mr. Lawrence’s kid. This seems...odd. How would Eli have met them?

An unexpected wave of jealousy rips through him. How did shy little Eli manage to make other friends? Let alone with an ex popular girl, of all people. Nonetheless, he figures this might be a good time to make sure his ex-friend isn’t trying to start any more shit with Cobra Kai.

He catches Eli in the deli line, sliding up behind him and purring, “Oh, I hope you haven’t been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, have you, Eli?”

Eli turns and glares at him with a venom Demetri didn’t know the other boy had in him. “Why, Demetri? Scared your precious Cobra Kai is going to lose all its coolness cred if it gets out how shitty you all are?”

Demetri seethes with anger again, and before he knows it, he’s shoving Eli out of the line and ramming him up against one of the pillars on the edge of the food court. The crowd of eaters around them “Oooooh”s, but Demetri ignores them. He raises a fist again, fully prepared to follow through this time. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.”

Eli just curls his lip, more defiant than Demetri’s ever seen him. “You don’t scare me, Demetri. I know who you really are.”

The Cobra Kai pledges start to loom behind them, ready to provide Demetri with backup if needed. Eli notices and scoffs. “Wow, siccing your goons on me too? Way to set up a fair fight, Demetri. You’re so badass.”

Struck by a sudden desire to prove him wrong, Demetri socks Eli in the jaw before he can think better of it. He pauses afterwards, momentarily shaken by what he’s done.

To his dismay, Eli’s horrified shock is short lived before he laughs darkly. “Well, you’re not the only one who knows karate now. I joined Miyagi-Do.”

Demetri just scoffs. Ah yes, a little karate training and Eli, of all people, is going to kick some major ass. “All right then. Let’s see what you got.” He takes a step back, allowing Eli to try and get a hit in.

When the fight breaks out in full force, it’s vicious. Eli throws the first hit, but it’s weak--he’s out of practice since abandoning Cobra Kai. Demetri has him on the ground in seconds, throwing punches and kicks with a speed and rage he had no idea he had. Eli barely has time to get up before he’s getting his ass handed to him.

What Demetri doesn’t count on is Eli’s new dojomates coming to his rescue, getting the smaller boy behind them and executing a near-perfect synchronized fighting routine. Even with his lackeys helping him, Demetri is completely annihilated--nearly unconscious on the food court floor within minutes. The last thing he sees before he passes out is Eli staring down at him, blue eyes wide with horror.

When word of the incident at the mall gets back to Moon, shit hits the fan--to put it lightly. Yasmine is with Moon when she confronts Demetri, but she doesn’t say anything--just stands glaring with her arms crossed while Moon goes off at him. “How could you treat Eli like that? He’s your friend!”

“Not anymore.” Demetri curls his lip. “He joined Miyagi-Do. He’s made it pretty clear where his loyalties lie now, and it’s not with me.”

“Who cares about Miyagi-Do?” She retorts. “He’s still your friend! Our friend! And I don’t like the way you’re bullying him.”

Demetri scoffs. “Don’t you get it? He’s just a pathetic nerd who can’t handle the fact that I’m cooler than him now. All he wants to do is drag me down to his level again, I guarantee it.”

Moon’s gaze is more poisonous than he’s ever seen it. She turns to Yasmine. “Tell him, Yas,” she says, her tone dangerously quiet.

Yasmine sighs. She says--with notable hesitation, Demetri notices--“If you don’t stop bullying Eli, we’re through.”

Thrown off, Demetri laughs harshly. “What do you care? You don’t even like Eli! I see those...disgusted looks you shoot in his direction, when you think we won’t notice.”

Yasmine bites her lip. “That doesn’t matter. Moon is my best friend. If she’s not okay with this whole...thing, then neither am I.”

“You’re not fucking serious. You’re dumping me because your bleeding-hearted friend told you I wasn’t being nice enough to a guy you can’t stand?”

Yasmine pauses, but ultimately stands her ground. “I’m sorry, but if it’s between you and Moon, it’s going to be Moon. So her word goes. So either stop with this whole stupid feud with Eli, or we’re finished.”

“I...” Demetri can only stare at her, shocked. He never could have imagined getting this ultimatum...and yet here he is.

He must have hesitated a second too long, because Moon grabs Yasmine’s arm and starts to pull her away. “I think that’s all the answer we need,” Moon hisses.

“Wait!” he called helplessly after them. Yasmine turns around once as she walks away, but only to spit “It’s over!” over her shoulder. As if for good measure.

Kreese finds Demetri circling a punching bag in the back of the dojo, spinning around it and throwing kicks and punches faster than cobra strikes. Seizing his opportunity, he advances. “What’s wrong, son?”

Demetri turns, tensing. He’s still wary of the man, but to hell with it--it’s not like he has anyone else to talk to. “Fight broke out with Miyagi-Do, and we lost. Pathetic, I know. Please don’t rub it in.”

“Cheer up.” Kreese smirks. “The fight isn’t over until you say it is.”

Demetri just sighs. “No use going in for a rematch. They’re strong. I couldn’t take them again on my own.”

Kreese’s smirk widens. “You’re a smart kid. There are other ways to fight back, you know. You don’t always have to beat them into the ground.”

As he leaves, Demetri lets that sink in.

Well, Demetri is nothing if not tech-savvy. May as well make some use of that Yelp Elite status. He spends hours setting up dozens of sock puppet accounts, programming them to post terrible review after terrible review blasting everything he can think of about Miyagi-Do. The encouragement of violence in youth (Eli had technically punched first, hadn’t he?). The weak, subpar fighting style that broke down as soon as it was challenged by serious fighters. The pretentious, culture-appropriating sensei. Daniel LaRacist indeed.

During the Coyote Creek excursion, Demetri finds himself pitted against Miguel, fighting in the world’s most intense game of what essentially boils down to Capture the Flag. Demetri, about to get the better of Miguel, finds that he can’t help but gloat about his little online attack. Can’t be long before a one-star dojo goes out of business.

When Miguel seems to take issue with it, saying the whole thing is mean-spirited and over the top, Demetri can’t help but scoff. Miyagi-Do has been plenty clear in declaring war--their little battalion at the mall proved that. Demetri wishes Miguel wasn’t still too caught up in pining over Sam LaRusso to realize that.

Miguel, meanwhile, decides this dojo war of sorts is getting out of hand. It turns out Demetri isn’t the only tech-savvy student in Cobra Kai--Miguel designed their website, after all. With a little bit of basic internet coding and some rudimentary hacking, he manages to access the sock puppet accounts Demetri made and take the bad reviews down. He even goes so far as to go over to the Miyagi-Do dojo and personally apologize for how Cobra Kai has been acting, telling Robby Keene that he found out who blasted the bad reviews and took them all down. “We’re not all assholes.”

Come Moon’s end-of-summer party, Demetri is surprised to get an invitation. He hasn’t seen her or Yasmine since they both chewed him out, and Yasmine ended things. But perhaps this is a show of good faith. Maybe Moon wants to be friends again--and maybe that means Yasmine’s come to her senses too, and might be willing to talk things out.

Moon welcomes him when he arrives, previous animosity gone for the moment. “Hey, thank you for inviting me. I’m...sorry,” he starts. “Of how we left things off. I was an ass to you and Yas.” “It’s alright,” Moon replies cheerily. “I invited you because...well, I’m hoping that before school starts, we can stop all the fighting and be friends again.”

His heart sinks as he sees Sam LaRusso lead a stream of kids through the door, Eli trailing at the end, and he realizes exactly what she means. The Miyagi-Dos are here.

He sits forlornly on a couch with Mitch and Aisha, thinking about how much worse this night just got. He brightens, however, when he sees a shock of blonde hair at the door not long after. So Yasmine came after all.

Moon grins in delight, calling over to her. Taking a breath, Demetri stands up and approaches the two girls, determined to smooth things over with them both.

He’s not surprised to see Yasmine make a beeline for Moon, not noticing him for the moment. What he isn’t expecting is for Moon to sweep Yasmine into her arms, kissing her full on the mouth.

Demetri stops in his tracks. The girls turn to him a few seconds later, seeming to notice him for the first time. They look at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to finish walking over to them. Or say something, and not just stand there gawking stupidly.

“Uh...are you two...um...like...uh...” All he can do is shuffle closer and gesture abstractly, not able to find words. Yasmine blushes and looks away, while Moon tucks a hair behind her ear, her smile strained.

“Yeah. It’s new,” she admits, laughing nervously. “We’re, um...”

“Girlfriends?” Yasmine offers, looking up and smiling at Moon with uncharacteristic shyness. Demetri can’t help but bristle--shyness she never showed him.

Well, far be it from him to be judgmental. Even if Yasmine broke his damn heart just now, Moon is still his friend. He gives them a strained smile. “That’s...that’s great! Happy for you two. No shame in uh...trying out something like that.”

Demetri excuses himself and sulks back to the now-empty couch, mind racing as he sits down. Is that why Moon was trying to encourage Yasmine to break up with him? Was it even about Eli at all? Did Moon just want Yasmine for herself? It seemed unlike Moon, but who could say?

And Yasmine...had she always wanted Moon, too? Is that why she seethed every time she saw Eli shooting lovestruck glances at her friend?

...had she even ever liked Demetri at all, or was he just a cover-up for the fact that she was...lesbian? How was someone as feminine and fashionable as Yasmine a lesbian, anyways? All the lesbians Demetri saw on tv cut their hair boyishly short and had about 5 nose rings and walked around in leather jackets and combat boots.

His thoughts are interrupted by the last sweatered boy he wants to see taking a seat at the other side of the couch, glancing nervously at him with darting eyes. What did Eli want? And why was he so nervous? He’d been unduly bold as of late.

“You seen the new Doctor Who trailer?” Eli mutters.

Something about the nonchalant way he says it--like this is the olden days, when Demetri always felt like shit about himself and had no one who tolerated him but Eli--makes Demetri’s blood boil. He scoffs. “I have better things to do than watch nerd crap like that.”

A short silence. “Capaldi regenerated,” Eli offers finally. “I know you weren’t big on 12.”

No more Capaldi? Demetri turns to look at Eli, interest suddenly piqued.

“What’s the new doctor like?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Eli grins. “She’s a badass.”

“She?” Demetri finds himself grinning back. “How progressive of them. Welcome to the 21st century, Doctor Who.”

A sudden giggling catches his attention, and Demetri looks to where Yasmine and Moon are sharing a chair across the room, tangled up in each other’s arms and trading soft kisses like they don’t have a care in the world. He tenses.

Eli seems to sense his discomfort, and sighs. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. If it helps at all, I liked Moon a lot, too.”

Demetri just scoffs. “Yeah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. They just have to be gay, right?”

Eli gives him a strange look. Demetri shuffles uncomfortably, realizing what he’s probably thinking about. The...incident, 4 years ago. Demetri glares at him, hoping to banish the thought before it arrives. None of that meant anything--they were just dumb kids. Dumb kids doing dumb shit that didn’t matter.

“I don’t know, I mean...if they’re happy together, shouldn’t we just be happy for them?”

Eli reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and Demetri hesitates. Their special touch. Eli still remembers, even after everything that’s happened.

For a moment he’s overcome with longing, wishing things with Eli could just go back to how they used to be. Back when he knew no matter what hell he went through at school, Eli would always be there to pick him back up again. But then it sinks in what Eli’s really trying to say.

Be happy for them. What a bunch of Miyagi-Do bullshit. Just accept his sad little lot in life, just like he used to do. Go back to nerdy little Eli at the bottom of the food chain, doomed to spend the rest of his youth admiring pretty girls from a vast distance.

He never wants that to be him again.

“Oh, fuck you, Eli,” he spits, grabbing Eli’s hand and yanking it off of his shoulder. Eli freezes, looking like he’s just been slapped.

“What, so I’m supposed to do like you, moping and pining and hoping a pretty girl will look my way if I wish hard enough and just sucking it up when she doesn’t? Well, I’ve had plenty enough of that--I’ve been on the top. And I’m going to be on the top again. But you? You’ll always be pathetic--you and your entire sorry excuse for a dojo.”

He gets up and walks away, bristling with an anger he can’t even fully place anymore.

As Eli watches Demetri go, he realizes he’s finally had enough. Demetri doesn’t want to patch things up? He just wants to keep being an arrogant shithead? Fine. But Eli’s not about to take his prodding and insults anymore.

Eli makes his way over to Moon--still his friend, despite the unreciprocated feelings--and Yasmine, strikes up a conversation with them. Yasmine, he notices, is being notably nicer to him--probably at Moon’s request. They get to talking about sexualities, and Eli accidentally lets a little something slip about Demetri.

When they were 12 years old, they had kissed. It was Eli who suggested they practiced kissing, to get ready for all the girls they would inevitably date. However, a bit of choice wording and it sounded like Demetri had planted one on Eli out of nowhere...and Eli, of course, hadn’t liked it one bit, because he was totally straight. “You can’t tell anyone, though,” he pleaded the girls, big sad eyes every bit as convincing as he had hoped. “Demetri doesn’t want it to get out that he’s...you know. Gay. He’s worried it’ll ruin his reputation.”

Moon nods sincerely, but Eli can tell from the almost imperceptible smirk on Yasmine’s face that she has other plans. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Demetri’s ex over the last few months, it’s that even trying to be a better person, she can’t resist a good bit of juicy gossip.

And from what Eli gathers...two girls dating? No problem, as long as they’re hot and popular. At least creepy guys can fetishize it. But guys liking other guys? Now that...Eli has a feeling that won’t go over well.

As soon as Eli excuses himself, Yasmine gets to work. A few whispers at the snack table when Moon isn’t looking, and news of Demetri’s supposed orientation spread like wildfire.

Demetri, meanwhile, is determined to prove Eli wrong. So what if Yas doesn’t want him anymore (or never did, the mean voice in his head keeps prodding)? He’ll find another hot girl to have on his arm. He’s a top Cobra Kai fighter, after all--it’s not like it’ll be difficult.

He saunters over to a group of girls, leaning up against the wall in what he thinks has to be a very suave way. “Hey ladies,” he says. “Name’s Demetri. I’m sure you’ve heard about me--seasoned Cobra Kai fighter, finalist in the All-Valley tournament. But no need to be intimidated--if any of you beautiful ladies ever need a hand with anything, I’ll--”

“Take it off of the nearest dick to help us out?” one of the girls cuts him off. They all break out in snickers. “No thanks.”

Demetri freezes. Why would they think...?

Then he realizes there’s only one person who could have made them think he was into that sort of thing.

He tenses. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but--”

“We’ve heard all we need to,” another girl says, eyeing him up in disgust. “Not interested in getting it on with someone who’s probably had his cock up another guy’s ass, to be blunt. Gross.” Before Demetri can say another word, the girls are gone, turning and slinking hurriedly off into the crowd.

Every time Demetri tries his luck with another girl, he gets similar rebuffs. And every time, he seethes a little more. Fucking figured--timid little Eli couldn’t take the fact that Demetri had worked up the confidence to win over a girl and he hadn’t, so he had to ruin Demetri’s chances with every other girl so he’d feel better.

Besides, Demetri remembers that day from 4 years ago. He remembers that Eli was just as into...all the stuff they did.

Unfortunately, before Demetri has a chance to go over and confront Eli about the whole business, the cops show up. He’ll just have to wait until school, he figures.

Meanwhile, word gets back to Sam that Miguel showed up at her door, apologizing and promising he took all the bad reviews down--apparently Robby didn’t relay any of this to her. When Miguel admits to Demetri about the drunken kiss, Demetri chuckles, slapping him on the back. “My man! Trying to build up a whole harem here, are we?”

Miguel sighs, looking sullen. “I cheated, dude. That’s shitty.”

And then comes the PA announcement. Tory Nichols is starting shit, and Demetri can’t pretend he’s not intrigued to see where this goes.

As soon as the fight breaks out, Demetri is overcome with adrenaline. He whips through the crowd, spinning and throwing kicks and punches like explosive flashes. All he can think of is Eli, Eli, little Eli...oh, when he finds him, there’s going to be hell to pay.

And it doesn’t take long--of course Eli is the one who tries to pull a teacher in to stop the fight. The fucking wimp.

When Eli makes a run for it, Demetri can’t help but smirk when he leads him straight to the computer lab. How very typical, for someone whose hero is Steve Jobs. He grins, something frighteningly sadistic bubbling up inside of him.

For a second it almost scares him, how badly he wants to drive his foot into Eli’s chest.

“Little Eli Moskowitz!” he taunts, before he can stop himself. “Cowering away in the computer lab, just like the little nerd he is. Can’t hide forever, outer. I know damn well what you told them about me.”

He tries door after door, continuing in a singsong voice as he goes. “Oh dear me, what would they say if they knew you enjoyed it too, Eli? Well, I guess they won’t believe me now. But I know. I know you’re no better than me.”

Ever since they were kids, Demetri has been the speedier one. They used to race across the playground at recess, pretending to be Quicksilver and the Flash, but Demetri always came out ahead. Long, gangly legs tended to do that. So when Eli turns to see Demetri in the doorway, and he makes a run for it, he doesn’t get far.

Demetri grabs Eli around the waist and throws him against the wall, whipping kicks and hits into his stomach and thighs faster than he can block. Demetri hardly notices the bruises forming, or the bleeding cuts.

It’s then that Eli does something Demetri doesn’t expect--flips the script, as it were. As Demetri reaches out to strike again, Eli surges forward and grabs him by the shoulders, flipping him around and pinning him against the wall. Maybe Miyagi-Do specializes in defense, but they still taught him how to throw a good hit or two. He throws defense to the wayside and starts raining punches down on Demetri--sloppy, uncoordinated, but something the “Strike First” Cobra Kai student is entirely unprepared to defend.

When his chest is stinging and his head throbbing, Demetri can’t take anymore. Eli was a lot more...well, powerful than he expected. At his first opportunity, he turns and books it. Maybe this isn’t a fight he can win after all.

Eli doesn’t chase. As angry as he still is at Demetri, he can’t stop thinking about the mars and bruises and cuts that appeared across Demetri’s face and skin as he punched him, mirroring his own, and he feels sick. He can’t hurt Demetri anymore, no matter what Demetri thinks of him now.

Demetri just makes it to the staircase when he sees Miguel motionless on the floor, Robby Keene looking over the railing. Sam LaRusson hovering over him. He runs to Miguel’s side, world crumbling around him.

Turns out he showed mercy, just like Mr. Lawrence always said to. And look where it got him. When John Kreese offers him a place in a new Cobra Kai, determined to make the Miyagi-Dos pay for hurting Miguel, Demetri isn’t about to say no.

In his grief, it seems like the only option.

Season 3

On the first day back at school, Mitch is quick to remind Demetri that there are other girls in the world besides Yasmine. Surely it won’t be too hard to work his charms on some of the freshmen--after all, word about that little incident with Eli when they were 12 can’t have gotten across the entire school, can it?

“Well, hello, ladies!” he purrs to a passing group, leaning against the wall in the most nonchalant way possible. “Welcome to West Valley High. I know freshman year can be intimidating, high school classes and new people and all, but if you ever need help with anything, I’m--”

“--the scrawny little gay kid who ran his pussy ass away from the world’s easiest fight?” one of the girls finishes scornfully. “Yeah, we know.”

As they walk away, he notices one shoot a flirty smile at a passing Eli, surrounded by his squad of Miyagi-Do losers. “Ooooh, you’re famous now, E!” he hears Chris say, and his blood boils all over again.

Ah. So everyone knew about Eli’s little triumph.

Mitch saunters over, and Demetri follows his lead. “Got something to say?!” he snaps.

Demetri’s eyes lock with Eli’s, and he glowers down at him. Eli’s face is tight, expression almost...sad.

Not like he’d expect anything less from that little crybaby.

“Oh, little Eli,” he chides. “I’d like to see you try and hide behind security.”

“I don’t need to,” Eli mutters, not breaking eye contact.

“Everything all right here?”

At the sound of the counselor’s voice, Eli does something unexpectedly bold. He sidles up to Demetri’s side and presses into it, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “No, Counselor Blatt, we’re all friends here!” he says, offering that shy little Eli smile that made every adult in a nearby vicinity go mad with protectiveness.

Eli’s arm is tight around his neck--like a chokehold. But, Demetri notices after a few moments, it’s shaking--the grip almost frantic. Like he’s scared of when he’ll have to let go.

Odd.

Demetri turns, and his and Eli’s eyes lock. He tries to give the shorter boy the most intense, seething glare he can under his forced smile, but Eli returns the look with equal intensity. Demetri jostles his backpack his backpack and thumps him on the chest, feeling an odd compulsion to touch his old friend right back.

Maybe he missed feeling Eli’s body underneath him. But that wasn’t a thought he could afford to spend a lot of brainpower on right now. “Yeah!” he says. Of course we’re still friends! Of course you didn’t fuck up my love life and humiliate me to the entire school because you couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting some and you weren’t!

When the counselor chides them about having somewhere to be, Eli just nods, murmuring, “Yeah, of course, Counselor Blatt. Sorry.”

As Eli pulls away, he pats Demetri’s shoulder a couple times. Small, almost imperceptible, but there.

Demetri can’t tell if it’s serious--if Eli still cares--or if it’s just a cruel mockery of their old touch. He’s not sure he wants to know.

When Demetri runs into Samantha LaRusso in the hospital and she insists she wants to help, he hardly expects a whole fucking fundraiser gleefully using Miguel as their poster child. As though the Miyagi-Dos weren’t the ones who put him in the hospital in the first place. When he catches a glimpse of the carwash while driving Mitch to practice, he decides he’s going to do something about it.

Beating up the kid is an easy fight, getting the money with Mitch and the others a sinch. Maybe at some point he would’ve felt bad for this--pummeling some short kid and then taking his charity money. But all he can think of is Miguel, his best friend, lying in a white gown and hooked up to wires. Because of this kid and his stupid “peaceful” dojo.

Peaceful, Demetri’s ass.

When Demetri walks into the cafeteria the following Monday, he’s not sure what he expects to see at Yasmine and Moon’s table, the place where he would be sitting, under different circumstances--but it definitely is not Eli Moskowitz with his hair dyed bright blue and spiked up. Miyagi-Do blue. Apparently all that coolness cred he felt he got from “scaring” Demetri off in the school brawl has gotten to his head, and he’s playing out his new “badassery” up to 11. He’s showing something to Yasmine and Moon, and they’re smiling and giggling. Yasmine, of all people, is smiling at nerdy little Eli’s antics.

Demetri squints, and sees that Eli’s showing the two girls a comic book--he recognizes the copy. It’s Eli’s limited edition Captain Marvel comic book, signed by Kelly Sue DeConnick herself. Demetri remembers standing in line with him at a con to get it a few years back--he’s pretty protective of the thing.

And now he’s using it to impress girls? Because apparently Yasmine and Moon are into that kind of thing? Oh, but of course Yasmine couldn’t be into nerd shit when DEMETRI was dating her, could she?

And those gooey eyes Moon is giving Eli, her little giggles--Demetri doesn’t like them one bit. What, now Eli’s worth her affections--now that his “nerdiness” is cool? Aren’t she and Yasmine a stupid item, anyways?

Deciding he’s going to put a stop to this, Demetri saunters over, lunch tray clutched so hard his knuckles are turning white. Before the group can react to his presence, Demetri picks up his chocolate milk carton and dumps it all over Eli’s stupid blue hair, making sure to get plenty on the rare comic book in front of him.

“Oh, I hope that wasn’t important, was it Eli?” he taunts, voice thick with mock sympathy. “That sure would be a shame.”

Eli turns to look at him, eyes wide with heartbroken shock. For a moment, the anger doesn’t set in.

“I had to wait in line 5 hours to get that,” he says quietly. “You know that.”

“Sure do.” Demetri smirks. “And it took all of 5 seconds to completely ruin. How tragic.”

Eli tenses, eyes darting around for a couple seconds. Demetri starts to walk away, his point made, when he feels an iron grip on his wrist. He turns to see Eli smirking at him, clutching his arm with more force than he ever thought possible from the once-timid boy.

“Careful there, Demetri,” Eli sneers. “Coming all the way across the cafeteria to bother me when you’ve got your cool Cobra Kai friends to hang out with? People might think you’re a little...obsessed with me.” Yasmine and Moon snicker, and Demetri bristles as he realizes the implication.

“Although I shouldn’t be surprised since you love obsessing over other boys, don’t you?” Eli goes on, like his point isn’t clear enough. “Y’know, I feel bad for Yasmine. I mean, any idiot could tell she used you as a beard, but I had no idea it was a mutual thing.”

Demetri tenses, willing himself not to lose his cool. “Really letting that little victory get to your head, aren’t you, Eli? Honestly, I was going easy on you. Now I know not to next time.”

It’s at that moment that Sam LaRusso decides to show up, sliding up next to Eli and glowering up at Demetri. “There won’t be a next time if I have anything to say about it,” she retorts.

Demetri can’t help but scoff. Of course Sam LaRusso would be all too eager to defend her little pet nerd now, even though she was all too happy to laugh at him with her mean girl friends a year ago. “I’m not scared of you,” he says. “Like you’d start any fight daddy couldn’t bail you out of. Or that doesn’t end with your ex boyfriend getting thrown over a railing because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

It’s a low blow, but Demetri doesn’t care. It’s hard not to look at this girl and see part of the reason Miguel might never be able to walk again.

Sam LaRusso shoves him just as the godawful counselor is sauntering over, but to hell with it--maybe Demetri could spin this to his advantage.

“She hit me, Counselor Blatt!” he cries out, pointing at Sam. “Attacked and physically assaulted me, completely unprovoked!”

“That’s not true,” Eli mumbles, eyes darting. Flawlessly slipping back into the poor little Eli role in a way that never fails to make Demetri seethe. “It wasn’t unprovoked. He started all this by destroying my limited-edition comic book for no reason.”

Demetri puts on his most convincing remorseful face and sighs. “Look, that was an accident. I just tripped while I was walking and my milk spilled. Anyhow, if your book’s that valuable, you probably shouldn’t bring it into a school cafeteria where people are more than likely going to spill food on it.”

He’d like to see the dumb counselor argue with that.

“Look, I don’t want excuses. I just want you all to respect each other.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Demetri turns to give Eli a forced smile. “Nothing but 100% respect in this environment going forward, I assure you. Sorry if we caused any problems.”

Please, just anything to make her leave.

With one last warning to Sam LaRusso, the counselor is gone. Demetri turns to the two Miyagi-Dos and smirks.

“To hell with respect,” he sneers. “Your lot hardly deserve it.”

It doesn’t surprise Demetri when Eli and his little gang of Miyagi-Do losers decide to start shit in gym class. What he isn’t expecting is for Eli and his stupid blue hair to start running next to him--right after he’s tried and failed to catch Yasmine’s attention after scoring a goal.

He’s been thinking about her all morning--was Eli right about her? Did she only use him as a cover-up?

...would no one ever want to date him for him?

Well, maybe if he won Yasmine back, he could disprove that. If Moon was going to be hanging off of Eli’s arm before too long, chances were her and Yasmine’s relationship’s days were numbered.

Whatever Eli is about to say, Demetri can already tell it’s not going to help.

And it doesn’t. “Wow, Demetri. Few guys are so bad in a relationship that they manage to turn their girlfriend gay. I hope you feel accomplished.”

Demetri balls his fists. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“You really did have a good thing going with her,” Eli sighed, voice laced with condescending pity. “It’s a shame she decided she could do better than some belligerent Cobra Kai douchebag.”

And then suddenly Eli lunges for him and tackles him, knocking him to the ground just as easily as Demetri once did to Eli at the mall.

Not that it ended up mattering all that much--Demetri was able to talk the Cobra Kai’s way out of trouble in the principal’s office, just as he so often could. Nonetheless, it seemed Eli was hardly turning out to be as much of a pushover as he thought.

When Mitch and the guys invited Demetri to go to Golf N Stuff--fuck around for a bit, cause some mayhem--he wasn’t about to say no. The thrill took over, running around, snatching tickets and prizes away, throwing them in the trash--he almost felt as powerful as Kyler must have, all those months ago when he tossed the lesser kids’ backpacks in the garbage. Is this how it felt, to be on top? To have everyone else too scared to mess with you?

Because Demetri loved it.

What he wasn’t counting on was Sam LaRusso and her little posse arriving to confront them in the laser tag arena--including Eli, face hardened and ready to fight.

Things seemed to be going pretty poorly--that was, until Tory Nichols and the backup arrived. That reduced Sam LaRusso to a sniveling mess, and finally it looked like this would be an easy finish.

Demetri found himself only stalling for a second when the way cleared for him to go at Eli. Something about the sudden terror on the other boy’s face made him hesitate, but not for long. Eli threw a weak punch, and Demetri quickly flipped him onto the ground, pulling his arm up behind him.

“No, please, stop, Deme, stop! It’s me!”

Deme...

Eli’s old nickname for him.

Demetri pauses, and suddenly he feels sick. Deme...Eli’s nickname. Eli.

Wasn’t all of this for Eli? To protect Eli?

And now here he was, about to hurt him. The one thing he swore he was going to stop everyone else from doing.

And then comes the goading cries from Tory, Mitch, and the others. Do it! Finish him! He deserves it!

He deserves it.

And then Demetri remembers what happened to Miguel when he didn’t take his chance to finish the fight with Robby Keene. Suddenly Demetri’s running out of the end of a hallway again, seeing Miguel’s motionless body lying on the stairs, and the rage and horror and mind-numbing devastation hit him all over again.

“Demetri, finish him!”

In a split second, Demetri makes his decision. Eli’s arm snaps in half.

All it takes is one terrible, pained scream from Eli for Demetri’s entire world to come crashing down on him. What the fuck did he just do?

He can’t even hear the other Cobras, gleefully congratulating him and sneering at the “pussy” on the floor. All he can hear are Eli’s pained sobs.

He’d seen Eli cry before, but never like this. Never thanks to him.

When everyone congratulates him next practice, Demetri barely hears. He’s just numb. All he can see is Eli, curled up and crying on the dirty cement floor. When Tory tells him she didn’t think he was going to do it, all he can manage out is that Miyagi-Do had it coming for hurting Miguel.

And as if his week can’t get any worse, here come Kyler and his goons sauntering into the dojo like they own the damn place. Demetri does his best to convince Mr. Kreese this is by no means a wise idea, but the sensei will not hear of it.

When Kyler and Brucks realize who he is, it only makes Demetri more livid. “Oh shit, it’s the yogurt backpack kid! Lip’s little friend! I thought he moved away!” When a fighting ring is formed, giving the new recruits a chance to “earn their spot,” Demetri is all too ready for combat.

He’s horrified at how quickly Brucks takes down Mitch, how quickly his friend is ushered out the door. It was bad enough to see Bert go, but this...this is different.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alone.

When Kyler steps forward, looking for an opponent, Demetri volunteers before anyone else can. Mr. Kreese shoots him a surprised look, but he doesn’t care. This fucko has been making his life hell for years--he can already tell this is going to be therapeutic.

Demetri doesn’t hold back. The fight has barely started before Kyler’s had enough. A few fast hits and his lip’s already bloody, and he’s backing away. “No...please stop...”

And suddenly Demetri’s back in the library, on that afternoon that seems like an eternity ago, watching Kyler grip Eli by the throat. Hearing him sneer “who would ever want to kiss THAT shit?” like Eli was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. Feeling absolutely powerless, hand clutching the back of a chair as he burned with rage that had nowhere to go.

Well, he wasn’t powerless now.

And before he knows it Demetri has Kyler pinned to the ground, landing punch after punch to his face. Because, he realizes, at the end of the day, who gives a fuck if Eli’s on the other side?

That’s still his Eli, even after everything. The same Eli he stood by for over 10 years, the same Eli who he wished so long that he could protect from everything, the same Eli who felt like he had to constantly hide a tiny red line on his face because his peers collectively decided--for no good reason at all--that it was ugly.

And maybe he couldn’t make those people hurt the way he wanted to then, but right now...well, he could hurt at least one. And that was enough.

He doesn’t stop until Kyler is practically pulverized and his hands are drenched in blood. After throwing his last punch, he smirks, leaning down to whisper into Kyler’s ear.

“Now who’d want to kiss THAT shit? That’s right, asshole--I remember.”

Demetri kicks Kyler’s limp form as he walks away. He shoots Brucks a glare as he falls back in line--just for good measure.

When Miguel comes back to school, Demetri’s one of the first to greet him at the door. “Cobra Kai’s still going strong! It’s going to be great to have you back!” He’s a little confused as to why Miguel seems so hesitant, but he doesn’t worry too much about it--they can sort through all that later.

Miguel’s certainly taken aback by the clunky cast he sees on Eli’s arm when he runs into him in the hall--but perhaps even moreso by the fact that he has both shamelessly dyed his hair blue and spiked it up in a mohawk and is currently walking the school hallways with Moon on his (unbroken) arm. As it turns out, once word got back to Moon that Yasmine was the one who had shamelessly whispered around the school about Demetri being gay, she had broken things off with her. And, with his new “coolness” upgrade, she’d taken quite a liking to Eli.

Not like she had any way of knowing he’d been planning on Yasmine’s cruel gossip, after all.

But the cast, Miguel quickly learns, has a much darker backstory than anything he could have expected.

He wastes no time confronting Demetri about it in the lunchroom. “I heard what happened with Eli. How could you do that?”

Demetri’s stomach clutches. He scowls, determined not to show his discomfort.

“Wow!” He scoffs. “We go to all the trouble of getting payback on those assholes for getting you thrown over that railing, and this is the thanks we get?”

Miguel shakes his head, horrified. “Dude, who cares what dojo Eli’s in? He’s our friend! And in any case, it’s not his fault what happened to me. What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. Demetri’s face hardens. He can only imagine how angry Mr. Kreese would be with him if he caught him showing any kind of weakness. Any kind of second-guessing.

But he can’t help it. Glimpsing Eli in that cast for the first time...

“Look, the Miyagi-Dos were the ones who picked a fight with us,” Demetri retorts. “We just had to do what we had to so they’d back off and leave us alone. We had to finish the fight.”

Miguel pauses, looking pained. “This isn’t...this isn’t you, Demetri. You’re letting Kreese get in your head. He’s trying to manipulate you, get you to...obsess over revenge so you’ll hurt people. But I know you, and I know you don’t want to. Eli, or anyone else.”

Demetri clenches his fists. “What would you know about how I feel about Eli?”

“Look, I can’t claim I know what’s going on between you two,” Miguel amends. “But you have to believe me--Kreese is dangerous. He’s using you. He doesn’t care about you, Demetri. Just...come to Sensei Lawrence’s new dojo. Please. Things can be like they used to. You don’t have to be in this...this war.”

This gives Demetri pause. “He...made a new dojo?”

Okay, so he’s still not Mr. Lawrence’s biggest fan--the man is an asshole at the best of times. But to be able to train with Miguel again...to be able to be badass without being expected to be some soldier...

He can’t finish speaking before Brucks’s voice rings out through the cafeteria. “Look everyone, Lip’s got a dick in his hand!”

Demetri looks up to see Eli being held by the cast, eyes darting around as the entire cafeteria bursts into laughter. Involuntarily, Demetri bristles.

And there it is again, that feeling of being the helpless kid in the library as Eli’s taunted. And even after all this time...he still hates it.

Miguel turns to him, shaking his head. “So these are your friends now? I thought you were better than that.”

And just like that, Miguel’s gone. Gone from the Cobra Kai table, gone from Demetri’s life.

It makes him wonder if he’s making a huge mistake. But he knows he can’t back out now--not when he’s this far in. Who would even want to take him back? Probably not Miguel and Mr. Lawrence--despite what Miguel said, Demetri knows there’s no way he’s going to forgive him so easily for hurting their other friend. And certainly not Eli.

What makes it even worse is seeing Eli later that day, curled up against some lockers with Moon. Moon is tracing over his cast in colored sharpie, slowly transforming the dick pic into a beautiful landscape and night sky. Eli is bragging about how the arm-breaking didn’t hurt that bad.

Demetri remembers when that soft little smile was reserved only for him, and a pit starts to form in his stomach.

Well, no use bitching. You did this to yourself.

It seems like the world is out to just make Demetri’s existence in Cobra Kai as shitty as possible these days. Mitch and Bert are gone, Miguel isn’t coming back, Brucks is being a royal douchebag like always, and perhaps worst of all, Robby Keene shows up at the dojo. Demetri tries his damndest to appeal to Mr. Kreese about how outrageous this is--this is the kid who paralyzed Miguel in the fucking first place, what’s the point of dojo-wide revenge if they just take in the main culprit like an old buddy? But of course Mr. Kreese spouts some nonsense about how they need all the help they can get for the All-Valley, and sometimes you have to be allies with people you aren’t the biggest fans of, blah blah blah. To make matters worse, Tory--not a friend exactly, but probably the closest thing Demetri’s got to one left--is getting far too chummy with Robby for Demetri’s taste.

Maybe Demetri’s insane, but it seems like more and more ridiculous shit is being handwaved in the name of...what? Winning a karate tournament? Getting revenge for a kid who’s already recovered, and doesn’t even seem to want it?

When word gets back to Cobra Kai that Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang are teaming up, Kreese sends the students on a special mission: Show the other dojos that even with their combined forces, they’re no match for Cobra Kai. It seems like a waste of time to Demetri--why antagonize other dojos just minding their business? It’s not like there was anything worth fighting for in this dumb war anymore, considering Miguel was on his feet again (literally AND figuratively). Nonetheless, Demetri finds he’s itching for a good fight--it’s been way too long since he’s charged into a full-fledged battle.

Maybe this will help him get it out of his system, if nothing else.

When the fight breaks out at the LaRussos, it doesn’t take long for Demetri to be overtaken by the thrill of it. Just like he was at the school fight. Just like he was at the tournament. He’s zipping through the house, landing kicks and punches left and right. And it feels good. With everything having been so awful lately, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alive.

And then he lands a fierce kick, and Brucks chest-bumps him. “Hell yeah! kick some ass! Dumb losers never had a chance.”

Brucks. The same kid who laughed when he saw Eli starting to cry about the comments he made on his lip. The same kid claiming Kyler tossing his backpack into a yogurt-filled trash can was “brute.” And now here he was trying to be buddy-buddy with him.

Everything comes crashing down on Demetri at once.

Miguel’s speech, saying Kreese is manipulating him. Saying Kreese doesn’t care about him. Kreese cherry-picking what does and doesn’t count as vengeance--hurting Eli, someone who had nothing to do with Miguel’s fall, does, but teaming up with the kid responsible for said fall apparently does not. Demetri’s friends being booted from Cobra Kai one by one, just for not being strong enough.

The sound of Eli’s screams and sobs in a dark laser tag room.

Miguel was right, wasn’t he? Kreese never cared about getting payback for him. He only cared about starting a war for his own sadistic pleasures.

Demetri hears grunting and whimpering, and he looks up to see two of the other Cobras kneeing Eli in the chest over and over. Pinning him into an arm bar.

“Yo, ‘Mete!” one calls out. “Free shot!”

Eli looks up, gaze full of fear and pain. Bright blue irises glinting with welling tears.

Once upon a time, Demetri made a promise to himself that he would stick with karate, aggravating as it may be, so he would never have to see that look on Eli’s face again. It’s time, he figures, that he finally made good on that.

His face contorts into a snarl, and he runs to Eli. Eli closes his eyes and scrunches his face, bracing for a pain that never comes.

Demetri kicks one Cobra to the wayside and smashes the other into a glass table with perhaps more force and adrenaline than he’s used all night.

When he turns to Eli, the other boy backs away, eyes still wide with terror. Demetri feels sick to his stomach, and the tears come before he can stop them.

“God, Eli, I’m so sorry,” he splutters. “I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I don’t know what I was thinking, and it was all so fucked up, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I’ll never hurt you like that again, but if you don’t want anything to do with me now, I totally understand, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I was so awful to you, and I didn’t listen to you, and I should’ve been there for you, and I’m such a piece of shit friend and--”

“DEMETRI!”

Finally Eli raises his voice enough that Demetri pauses. “...yeah, Eli?”

“Please stop talking. I forgive you. Now are you going to shut up and help me finish this?” He raises a hand, as if to initiate their old handshake. An olive branch.

Demetri grins so wide he thinks his face is going to break, and he grips Eli’s hand like a lifeline. Something to finally pull him out of the darkness. “Yeah.”

They’re a lethal fighting team. Between Demetri landing speedy hits and Eli protecting him and shielding them both with his bulked-up form (where did he get all that muscle? Demetri wonders), they dispatch half the Cobras in minutes. Whatever rush Demetri was feeling fighting when he first got here is nothing compared to fighting with Eli.

When they stop the fight between Tory and Sam, Tory wastes no time voicing her disdain for the ex-Cobras. “You’d better watch your back,” she spits at Demetri, and he feels a chill run through him. Turns out this girl is terrifying when she’s not fighting on your side.

Eli intercepts her as she leaves, staring her down defiantly in a very un-Eli-like manner. “You’d better watch yours,” he growls. “Touch him, and I’ll end you.”

Demetri glances over in surprise. When did Eli get so bold?

Well...he thinks he could grow to like it.

Season 4 (because fuck it)

Demetri is hardly expecting Mr. LaRusso and Mr. Lawrence to forgive him, never mind let him into their new dojo. But life has a lot of pleasant surprises in store for him, it seems, after the shitshow it recently put him through. It’s also possible Eli (and maybe Miguel too) but in a good word for him.

Demetri can’t stop apologizing to Eli. Seemingly every day, he finds a new thing to apologize for. Eli gets aggravated with it before long, having to reassure Demetri at least 50 separate times that he forgives him for everything. Nonetheless, Demetri refuses to stop--because he’ll never stop being sorry.

Or trying to find new ways to make it up to Eli. Going easy on him during sparring. Buying him lunch after practice. Helping him perfect some of the most badass Cobra moves.

Things end between Eli and Moon. Eli can’t fully elaborate on why--he just tells Demetri something didn’t feel quite right. The spark died out, like Demetri’s adrenaline rush slowly seeping away toward the end of a fight. That, and, Demetri gathers, something seems to have been distracting Eli from his girlfriend as of late.

Most likely the approaching, high stakes All-Valley. Karate is Serious Business, as they’ve both embraced now.

Rumor has it Yasmine and Moon are trying again, Yasmine realizing for seemingly the first time how awful she’s really been and making an effort to be better. Moon makes her want to be better--more than Demetri ever did, he realizes. And maybe that’s okay--he and Yasmine probably just weren’t right for each other.

Then one day, after yet another one of Demetri’s long-winded apologies, Eli offers something other than an exasperated. “It’s okay. Seriously.” There’s a pause before Eli quietly says “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Demetri blurts out, baffled. Everything Eli’s done has paled in comparison to his own atrocities.

“For outing you,” Eli says simply. “That was fucked. And it wasn’t my place, even if I was mad at you.”

“It’s all right.” Demetri shrugs. “You were right, anyways.”

Eli gives him a strange look. “I was?”

“Yeah, I mean...” Demetri laughs dryly. “I don’t...like girls. I pretended I did, because I felt like I was supposed to. That’s what people expect you to do when you’re a top athlete and all that. But dating Yasmine, chasing other girls, it always felt...empty. Like I was just acting out a role in a play or something. And at the end of the day, I think...” He pauses. “I think I was always looking at you.”

Because the last few months have made him realize something. Training with Eli, teaching Eli how to protect himself, watching Eli step up and defend him from the mistrusting stares and the scornful whispers...

Just how much of the person he’s become is thanks to wanting to protect Eli. The fact that that was always how all this started.

“I love you,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. “I know I did a shitty job of showing it, and I know you were with Moon and you’re not like that, but I need you to know, and I understand if you don’t feel--”

Eli cuts him off with a fierce kiss, pinning him up against the dojo wall with unexpected aggressiveness.

When Eli pulls away, he’s smiling softly. The same smile he gave Moon in the hall as she drew on his cast--the smile that’s once again all Demetri’s.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Why do you think I broke up with Moon? Every time I was with her...I couldn’t stop wishing it was you. She’ll never know me like you do.”

And Kreese had better look out because Miyagi Fang’s next big power couple is a force to be reckoned with--the snarky, frighteningly fast-attacking ex-Cobra, and the buff, blue-mohawked Miyagi-Do with more inner peace than anyone would expect.

SOME RANDOM SIDENOTES ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE PUTTING THIS ALL IN THE TAGS

~I’m sorry if anyone is OOC in this--I know Johnny is kind of a fuck, but he genuinely WAS pretty crappy to Eli at first and who knows if he would’ve treated him any better if he didn’t “flip the script”??? ~Dark/Evil Demetri is so fun but also so awful to write--I hope you like him being an absolute fuck because the Corruption Arc is REAL ~Yes, I DO in fact fully believe Demetri would go on a crazed revenge quest just like Eli/Hawk did out of his grief for Miguel--the boy absolutely loves Miguel and arguably would want vengeance as much as Eli if their roles were swapped!!! Because Demetri cares about Miguel SO FUCKING MUCH even if it’s not as obvious as it is with Eli but that’s a rant for another post ~I included YasMoon because fuck it, I thought it’d be interesting. That and, unlike the Cobra Kai writers, I am not at all afraid of what conservative audiences will say, so I am not afraid to make things as gay as possible. ~There’s a good chance I swapped Kyler and Brucks’ places near the end solely so I could have Demetri beat the fuck out of Kyler because I just really need that ~Yes, even without formally becoming “Hawk,” Eli could learn how to be a conniving manipulative little shit if he wanted to be. Look at some of the shit he pulls with the counselor in canon Season 3!!! Boy sure as hell knows how to play the victim. ~Honestly not sure if being outed as gay is better or worse than being outed as a bed-wetter, but I had to think of something that would pack the same kind of emotional punch. In Eli’s feeble defense, the West Valley High kids don’t seem like the types to be like...especially violent against queer kids (otherwise NO WAY would Moon and Piper have been able to be that open about their relationship), they’d just be assholes about it. So Eli wasn’t putting Demetri in legit danger here so much as just opening him up to a lot of ridicule. Which is still fucked, but hey, I DID warn you this would be kind of fucked up XD ~Maybe short, concise apologies work for Eli, bUT NOT FOR DEMETRI THE RAMBLER ~Dark Demetri chasing Eli through the school like a goddamn serial killer = 10/10 gave myself a big Spook writing ~Yes, Eli does still have (and always had) his “Hawk” traits, even without the formal “transformation.” I just think his “Hawk” side would be a little more subtle and subdued if he were in Miyagi-Do, but it’s still there for sure.

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 8: Bondage

That’s only the tumblr title so it shows up in tags, the real one is on ao3 I believe

A/N: how do these chapters always end up so long? we don’t really know. peter’s going through it, yall. we’re officially halfway through this story, and we can’t wait to get the rest of it up for you to read. big things are happening!! - bloo and bri <3 💕

(also- you may have noticed, but for every chapter, the title is in reference to the au or trope it features. we aren’t just lazy and unoriginal lol...there’s a method to the madness)

Warnings: privacy invasion (Peter dealing with the fallout of the previous chapter), very nff, d*m/s*b relationship

Masterlist ao3

————

With shaking hands, Peter slid the glasses from his face. He closed his fist around them as he tried in vain to steady his breathing. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Once again, it felt like the world had shifted on its axis and everything was closing in on him.

What the fuck was that? How had SHIELD infiltrated EDITH’s programming in order to allow May into his illusions? How long had she been real? If she’d been the May he’d conjured every time...

That would explain why his spidey sense had reacted so strongly that first time, when he introduced his family to Tony. He had known that something was wrong, but hadn’t been able to discern what. Because he was looking for a threat in his environment, not a digital one.

Hindsight was always fucking 20/20.

May’s presence in the illusions aside, the fact still making his skin crawl, how long had SHIELD been watching him? What had they seen? Were they always watching?

The thought made Peter feel sick to his stomach. They all knew what he was doing, they saw him with Tony. That meant that they...they *knew how he felt about* Tony. Fuck, they’d seen them having sex, something that was not meant for anyone else to even know about, much less witness. If they’d been watching at all, they had to have seen it, there was no way they hadn’t.

Tears began to sting in the teen’s eyes, and he swallowed thickly around the bile that was making its way up his throat. He felt...dirty. Violated.

Betrayed.

This was supposed to be just for him, just for him and Tony. But instead, a bunch of people he didn’t even know were watching his deepest fantasies play out with an illusion of a man who was thirty-odd years older than him. Not to mention the fact that said man had been…gone for nearly a year.

...That meant that even May had seen.

The reality of that fact made his stomach flip, shame and disgust burning in his veins.

Not only had his aunt seen him cuddled up to Tony, watched as he married the man, not holding anything back... She’d probably seen him in every vulnerable moment, any time they’d slept together, even the less explicit intimate interactions the two of them had shared. Just like the people at SHIELD had.

He wrapped one arm around his torso in a weak attempt to comfort himself and soothe his churning stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours, but the meager food he’d had was threatening to make a reappearance. The more he thought about the reality of the situation, the more it sunk in, the worse he felt.

Guilt piled on top of shame, disgust was added onto betrayal, violation was added to the entire mix. And it all made him want to crawl out of his own skin and be sick.

He wanted to disappear.

The only consolation he had was that they wouldn’t be able to get in again. There was no way for them to influence him or have any sort of impact on the illusions. He couldn’t control anything else they might do, but EDITH had guaranteed that the new 24/7 monitoring and firewall improvement would ensure that they wouldn’t be able to get back in and mess everything up.

He couldn’t believe May had done something like that. Well. He could, but he didn’t want to. He knew that she wanted him to go back to New York, back to her and Happy, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that she’d actually get involved enough to try to intervene.

He’d thought that maybe she of all people would understand why he was doing it. She had lost so much herself. Maybe she would get it and let him be. Since he was finally truly happy, for the first time in a very long while.

But apparently not. She’d somehow come in without permission, lied to him in order to get him to trust her and then proceeded to try to take him away from the one thing, the one place, the one person that made him feel safe. She obviously didn’t give a fuck about Peter’s actual happiness and well-being. She was just being selfish, not thinking about what he actually wanted but rather what she wanted for him.

He still missed her, though. What she did... really hurt him. He wasn’t going to get over it anytime soon. But he still loved her. He knew that in reality, she was the only living family that he had left. He wished that she could have just understood, could have accepted the choices that he’d made and would continue to make. Maybe they could have even coexisted, in the new world he was creating for them. He could have had his family back, all of them, together and whole, just the way it should have been.

He was doing everything in his power… How was everything still falling apart? The whole point of leaving, of coming to the compound, of not communicating with anyone, was so that he could get away. So that he could have some peace.

And he’d found some, or at least he thought he had.

But his happiness was once again being stolen from him.

He was so tired of having to deal with the utter crock of bullshit that was his life. Fucking Parker luck.

He didn’t want to be in charge anymore.

Maybe he didn’t have to be.

(In the back of his mind, he thought briefly again of the fact that everything he did had spectators, whether he liked it or not. Despite feeling massively uncomfortable, he knew there was nothing he could really do about it, not without having to rewrite part of the program. And there was no way he was going to do that. There was always a small chance that he would lose any existing data. He couldn’t risk losing what he had built with Tony.

If they were going to watch, then…..well, he was going to put on a show.)

***

Peter had decided that he was going to bring his idea up to Tony. Even after thinking about it for a while, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. What was he supposed to say? “Hey Tony, I want you to be my dom?”

If he was being completely honest, that probably would have worked. (In fact, he knew it would have.)

But Peter couldn’t make himself just come out with the words like that. It wasn’t him. That wasn’t how he did things.

So instead, when it was time for Tony to come home from work, and he had gotten himself ready, put on some of the lingerie he’d bought during the honeymoon, Peter positioned himself on the floor in front of the elevator, kneeling on a pillow he’d taken from the couch.

He was only there for a minute or two when the doors opened and out walked his husband, making his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“Peter? Baby, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Why are you in the floor?” He paused, taking in the fact that Peter’s body was clad in only a lace bralette and matching panties, the aegean blue material popping enticingly against his skin. The man blinked, letting his eyes roam over the man’s submissive form before they snapped up to meet his husband’s. “Pete?”

For a moment Peter just sat there, searching Tony’s face. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to do. His gaze met the older man’s once more. “Daddy.”

Eyes flashing, Tony reacted to the title much like Peter had hoped he would, and he recognized the dynamic that the boy was trying to set up. But he still wasn’t sure what was happening. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

That was the last thing Peter wanted to do. He shook his head minutely and closed his eyes again, sighing heavily.

Why couldn’t Tony just roll with it? He never had a problem indulging his kinks with no conversation before. They never needed to talk about it. Or so Peter thought. Why was the man insisting that he come out and say it this time?

“If you really want this, I need to hear you say it, Peter.”

“I’m tired,” he said finally, voice soft. “I don’t want to think anymore, I don’t want to think about any of it. I want…” Peter let himself trail off, swallowing. “I want to give control to you, Tony.” He let his eyes meet his husband’s again.

The man watched him for a moment more, face neutral. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, as his eyes darkened and his stance shifted almost imperceptibly.

But Peter definitely noticed.

Something about the subtle change in his posture made Tony immediately appear more dominant, and Peter felt something deep within himself give. Yes, this was exactly what he wanted. To give himself to Tony, all of himself, until there was nothing left of him that wasn’t Tony’s, too.

A low hum emanated from the taller man’s chest as he crossed his arms, sharp yet caring eyes still trained consideringly on Peter’s kneeling form. “You need Daddy to take care of you, honey? Show you that you don’t have to do everything on your own, that it’s all gonna be okay?”

Peter was nodding before he even realized it. “Please,” he whispered. “Tony, please, yes.”

“Ah-ah,” Tony chided, walking forward a few steps until he was standing right in front of the boy. He reached down, taking Peter’s chin in his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle enough that it didn’t actually hurt. “That’s not my name right now, kid. What do you call me?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Peter swallowed. “Daddy.” The word had the muscles in his lower stomach clenching as he felt that molten heat begin to pool deep inside of him.

Tony smiled down at him as he ran the pad of this thumb over Peter’s bottom lip. “That’s right, baby.”

Peter let his lips part and he pushed his head forward slightly so that the finger entered his mouth. He gently sucked on the digit, enjoying the weight and warmth of it on his tongue.

“Do you trust me, Peter?” Removing his hand, Tony shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor and rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up.

“With my life,” Peter said automatically, still staring up at the man with wide eyes.

“Good.” His hands moved to pull at the knot of his tie, feeling the boy’s gaze burning into his skin. The gold of his wedding band glinted in the light. “Now crawl to the bedroom.”

Tony watched as Peter did just that, adjusting his position so that he was on all fours as he began making his way across the entryway and through the living room. A shiver ran through Peter’s body, and Tony knew that the hardwood floor was cold, especially with practically all of his skin exposed.

But he knew that his baby could take it.

Peter would take whatever Tony wanted to give him.

Staying a few paces behind his lover at all times, Tony’s eyes roved over Peter’s ass, watching the way it moved as he began ascending the stairs. He licked at his bottom lip, already imagining all the ways he was going to take his boy apart, break him down until he was begging for Tony to fill him up, to stuff him full of his cock.

The heat of Tony’s eyes on him had Peter’s blood thrumming in his veins as he reached the top step, turning the corner where he could see their bedroom door a few feet away. He felt...anxious, but in a good way. He didn’t know exactly what the older man had planned for him, but he was being honest when he said he trusted Tony.

(He didn’t say that Tony was probably the only person he trusted at this point.

Once they had both made it into the room, Peter now kneeling down on the floor at the foot of the bed, Tony didn’t let the teen out of his sight even as he pushed the door closed, arm extended out behind him. It shut, the sound nearly deafening in the quiet.

Shifting his weight, Tony opened his mouth, making no moves to get closer to his partner at the moment. “How you doing, baby?” The man tried to keep his voice soft, so as to not startle Peter, but as he had already allowed himself to slip pretty far into his dom headspace, he couldn’t completely get rid of the deep, commanding rasp.

Peter swallowed. “I’m okay,” he said quietly, making eye contact for a second before lowering his gaze to his knees, where his hands were loosely clasped.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Just okay?” He paused and ran a hand through his hair, resulting in him looking slightly disheveled. It was at odds with the rest of his put-together appearance. “I’m gonna need more than okay, Pete. What are you thinking? Tell me.”

Eyes wide, not able to explain why he felt so compelled to comply, Peter did. “I’m great, Daddy. I’m just...nervous, I guess. I trust you, more than anything, and I want to know what’ s going to happen. Also I just,” he paused, a flush coming to his cheeks. “I love you so much.”

The older man’s eyes softened, and then he did take a step towards Peter. Then another. “I love you too, Peter.” He kept walking until he was standing right in from his husband, staring down at him, the tips of his shoes not even an inch from the bare skin of Peter’s knees. “Your safeword is ‘rhubarb’, okay baby? Repeat it back to me.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Peter’s lips at the word. He took a deep breath to compose himself before peering up at Tony again and speaking. “My safeword is ‘rhubarb’,” he intoned lightly.

“Good boy.” Something ignited in Tony as he witnessed the other’s reaction to the words. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” As if he didn’t know the answer from the barely audible mewl that escaped his lips and the way the ruddy tinge to his cheeks intensified. “Like knowing that Daddy’s pleased, that he’s happy with you?”

Peter nodded softly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s all you want, isn’t it baby?” His hands moved to his tie, which was draped over his neck. He pulled it down and held it out in front of him, an end in each hand. “Close your eyes, Peter.”

Obliging after only a moment of hesitation, Peter’s lids fell shut. He sighed at the feeling of the soft, cool silk on the heated skin of his face.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s nice. I like it.” He paused. “There’s no strong smells in here which is nice but I can hear everything. I mean I already could but- This is so much more-”

Tony tutted softly, seeing the way the boy was getting frustrated with himself for rambling a bit, the nervous energy needing some way to escape. “Shhhh, relax baby. You don’t have to think, remember? Turn that little genius brain of yours off for a bit, huh? Let Daddy handle it, I’ll take care of everything, Pete.” He made a point not to touch him, not wanting to overwhelm him any further.

Peter sniffed, his nose twitching. “Okay.” He shifted his posture, rolling his shoulders and leaning to the side a bit to adjust his legs. He focused on the beating of Tony’s heart rather than his own, finding it more reassuring. “Okay,” he repeated, quieter this time, mostly speaking to himself.

Tony let them sit in the quiet for a moment, until he was satisfied that Peter had calmed down. “Good job, baby.” Hands dropping to his waist, Tony began to unfasten his belt. The sound of the metal clink might as well have been a gunshot with the way that Peter jerked. “Easy, kid, it’s just me.” After he pulled the leather through the loops on his pants, he let it drop down to the carpet where it landed with a thud. He undid his button and zipper before pulling his cock out so that he could stroke himself to full hardness.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty, down there on your knees for me,” he groaned. He circled his thumb around the head a few times, spreading the wetness there as he took in the sight before him. “So perfect for Daddy.”

Peter’s nipples had hardened underneath the dark lace and he pressed his thighs together at the sound of Tony’s hand moving over the slick skin of his shaft. Saliva was beginning to pool in his mouth; he could feel the heat of Tony’s erection in front of his face, the deep musk of the man’s scent like a drug to him. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Please,” he whispered.

Now fully hard, Tony grabbed at Peter’s mussed curls with his left hand. He used his right to guide his cock to the boy’s lips, letting the tip rest there before tapping it against them a few times. “Open up, sweetheart.” When Peter did as he was told, Tony let out a deep sigh at the feeling of his mouth suckling on the head.

Peter whined again. His tongue danced around the tip of his husband’s cock and he sucked greedily at the salty fluid there. It was so heady, and he could already feel himself slipping down, bleeding into that space he’d always wondered about. His jaw began to go slack, the rest of his body relaxing in kind.

“There you go, baby,” Tony groaned, starting to cant his hips, pushing himself further into the wet heat of Peter’s mouth. He could tell from the way Peter suddenly went more pliant that he was starting to drop. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

The boy took him readily, even unconsciously reached a hand up in an attempt to find Tony’s hip and pull him closer. He keened in displeasure when Tony gently nudged him away.

“Hey, uh-uh, hands behind your back, kid. No touching.”

Another whine, but the young man once again followed the instruction. He began to bob his head, the lewd sounds of his mouth moving on the slick flesh filling the air.

Tony kept his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair as he cursed under his breath. “*Fuck*, Peter, that’s it baby. So perfect, you suck Daddy’s cock so good.” He started to thrust his hips again, shallowly at first but then getting deeper. When he reached the back of Peter’s throat, the boy’s muscles contracted around him as he gagged, desperately trying to swallow. “Shit, shit,” Tony muttered, eyes slipping shut at the sensation.

When Peter started to tense up, rising on his knees slightly, the man pulled back, leaving him spluttering as he tried to catch his breath. Thick drool was running down his chin as he coughed, and Tony didn’t hesitate before running his dick through it. “Open,” he commanded, scooping some of the liquid up with the pads of his fingers so he could push it back into the boy’s mouth. His cock was quick to follow, immediately going as deep as he could in order to make Peter’s body jerk again. “Swallow.”

Peter did his best, trying not to choke as the muscles in his throat contracted weakly around the intrusion. He tried to focus on breathing through his nose, but he gagged anyway, lurching backwards even though he was unable to get away, tethered by the firm grip of the hand clutching at his head.

Pulling back to let him breath for a moment, the sound of the frantic gasping making him grow impossibly harder, Tony only waited a few seconds before snapping his hips forward again. He fucked gently in and out of Peter’s mouth, praises falling unbidden from his own. “So perfect, Peter, god, you’re perfect. So good for me, kid.”

He could feel himself getting close, too close, after a minute so he roughly pulled Peter from his dick. “Shit, baby, almost made me cum,” he breathed heavily, almost as loud as the boy’s hurried lungfuls of air, and slowly tucked himself back into his slacks, still slick with spit. “You did so good, Peter.” His fingers released Peter’s hair, running through it soothingly a few times instead before moving to the lack of his head to tug at the blindfold.

Peter was firmly in subspace now, so the older man felt that the sensory deprivation wasn’t necessary anymore. And he wanted to see those big brown eyes for what he had planned next.

Kneeling down in front of him, Tony kissed the teen’s forehead and then his lips. His thumb swept over the apple of his cheek. “Hey, baby, can you look at me? How are you doing?”

Said eyes blinked up at him tearily, and Peter sniffled before coughing wetly. “Good,” he said, voice soft and wrecked, only able to meet the man’s gaze for a moment before his eyes fell. They paused on Tony’s clothed erection for a moment until they were trained on his own knees again. He blinked a few times before his mouth opened. “Knees hurt.”

Tony immediately moved, scooped the boy into his arms. “Thank you for telling me,” he said into Peter’s temple, pressing a kiss there before he gently deposited him on the bed. “Lay down for me, honey.” His eyes ran over the slight body sprawled out on top of the sheets, taking in the flush that seemed to cover most of Peter’s skin.

He looked absolutely delicious, slightly dazed with his cock hard and leaking in the dark blue of the lace panties.

Leaning down, Tony pressed gentle pecks over each of Peter’s red kneecaps, then switched to leaving a trail of them up the inside of his thighs.

Peter sighed happily, squirming a bit at the touch. He inhaled sharply when he suddenly felt the heat of Tony’s mouth over his fabric covered erection. “Daddy,” he whimpered, hips automatically twitching up in an attempt to find more stimulation.

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed, pulling away. He rubbed his thumb over this inside of Peter’s ankle. “Think you can kneel again for me, baby?” At Peter’s slight frown, he clarified, smiling softly. “Not on the floor, up here on the bed. Can you do that?” When he received a soft nod in response, he helped get the boy into position before climbing off the bed to rifle through one of the drawers in the nightstand, reassuring Peter that he just needed to grab something.

Peter watched him for a moment, mind drifting. He felt floaty, like he wasn’t quite in his body. It took a lot of effort to wiggle his toes, they felt...far away. Moving his fingers was easier, but it still took a good bit of concentration. Everything was soft, muted, like his head was stuffed full of cotton. Or something thick, like molasses.

It was a feeling that he decided he liked.

Suddenly Tony was back in front of him, stroking his cheek. “There you are, kid. Gonna tie you up now, okay honey?” He waited until Peter made eye contact with him before accepting it as consent, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and beginning to fiddle with the bundle of soft, black rope in his grip.

Peter smiled dopily to himself as he watched how Tony wrapped the silky cords around one hand before unwinding them again.

His gaze stayed on the man’s hands. He trusted those hands with anything. They were strong, capable. He never worried that those hands would hurt him. Not unless he wanted them to.

His eyes snapped up to Tony’s face when the dominant cleared his throat, calling Peter to attention once more.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, not breaking the heated eye contact that followed. He was getting lost in the depths of Tony's dark irises.

Tony hummed softly, fingers sliding against the soft rope that he was holding. “Don’t be, baby. It’s alright. What were you thinking about?” It was asked gently, but was clearly more of a command to answer than just a casual question.

“Your hands,” Peter answered instantly, cheeks heating at how eagerly he responded. He wanted to look away but found himself unable to.

“Uh huh. And what about them?”

“How strong they are. And beautiful. And how much I trust them. How much I trust you,” he whispered. He finally broke the eye contact, face burning. He probably sounded ridiculous.

“Look at me, honey.” Tony watched him, moving closer until he was kneeling on the bed in front of Peter. “I’m so glad you trust me.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle yet firm kiss to the sub’s lips as his hands moved to remove the blue lace from Peter’s chest. “Gonna take this off okay?”

Peter nodded slightly, melting into the kiss and whining when the heat of the other man’s lips left his.

A low chuckle came from Tony when he heard. He let the bralette fall to the floor at the side of the bed. “Sorry, baby. I’ve got something else I need to do before I can keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Peter’s bottom lip poked out slightly in a pout, despite his words.

“Thank you. Now, can you work with me here? I’ll need you to stay still for this part. Then we’ll lay you back down to do the rest.”

Peter nodded obediently, fixing his expression as he gazed at his husband.

Tony got to work quickly, staying silent as he focused.

The rope was looped around Peter’s chest, resting snugly on top of his pecs as it was brought back around and secured.

It was wrapped around again, underneath this time. The rope was tight around him, but not enough for it to hurt or even dig into his skin uncomfortably.

All he knew was the firm pressure of the cords around his body, holding onto him. He knew that he felt safe.

His eyes slipped shut as he relaxed, letting Tony artfully secure the silk rope around his body.

He didn’t open them again until he felt the warmth of his partner’s hands pulling away. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been spaced out, peacefully floating in his mind while Tony worked on him.

Tony leaned back to admire his handiwork, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does that feel, baby?” It certainly looked gorgeous, the black silk contrasting perfectly against Peter’s pale, lightly freckled skin.

“It’s-“ Peter’s voice was crackly as he started speaking. How long had it been since they started? Much longer than he’d realized, it seemed. “It’s really nice. Tight. But not too tight. Huggy.”

The older man laughed softly, rubbing a finger over one cord. If it was obvious that Peter was deep into subspace after the blowjob, Tony didn’t even know how to describe the boy’s current state. He loved it. It was nice to see him so relaxed and content.

He’d obviously needed someone else to take control of him for a while. And Tony was happy to help. He’d do anything for Peter.

“That’s good, honey. I don’t want it to hurt you. It’s supposed to be calming. Is it working? Do you feel safe?” He couldn’t keep the amused note out of his voice.

Peter nodded sluggishly, like the movement took all his focus. And it honestly did, given how deep he was in his headspace. Everything was soft and warm around the edges and nice.

“Good. Let’s lay you down now, okay? I’ll do your wrists next. Then your feet.” Tony walked the boy through the plan, letting him get used to the idea. He rubbed at his back as he straightened up on his knees, humming. “Not as young as I used to be, huh.” It was more to himself than anything.

“That’s okay, Daddy,” Peter spoke up gently as he moved forward on the bed a bit. It was hard to do so without being able to put his arms out to help steady him, so he was a bit wobbly on his knees, but managed to get to the center of the mattress. “I like you just the way you are.”

Tony chuckled, nodding. “I guess I’m glad for that, huh.” He placed a hand on the small of Peter’s back, helping guide him first into a sitting position, legs out in front of him, and then so that he was laying on his back. “Come on, baby. I know you’re all relaxed and everything, just need you to help me out a little with this.”

Once Peter was settled, he relaxed into the down comforter, content to just watch what the dom was doing.

Tony grabbed the final lengths of rope that he’d need to finish up. One for Peter’s wrists, then two others: one for each of his ankles. Those would be used to tie his feet to the end of the bed, keeping his legs spread. Less calm-inducing than the others, but it was infinitely more functional given his plans.

He took the longer cord first, humming as he tried to think about how he wanted Peter’s hands tied.

Typically he’d go for behind the back, it always had a nice, clean look and made the temptation to touch lessen. It also did a lot for making one feel truly restrained. But he needed the sub to be on his back, so he ultimately decided that his hands would be tied in the front.

He mentally went through the rope work he was planning, wanting to make sure he didn’t overlook anything, before he began executing the action on his husband.

It took only a few minutes for Tony to secure his hands in front of him, before he was moving on to his lower body. He tied the rope around his ankles and feet, so that the pressure wasn’t all in one spot and making the boy sore, and then finished by securing it to the footboard of the bed.

Peter tugged at the bonds slightly when he noticed that Tony was done, looking down at the loops around his ankles from where his head was propped up on the pillows.

He knew that he could easily get out of the restraints if he wanted. But the thing was...he didn’t want to.

He was finally able to give up control, not having to constantly have everything in his grip. He was able to hand it all off to Tony, letting himself relax.

And it was absolutely perfect.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Tony’s hands started sliding up his sides, stopping when they reached the harness wrapped around him.

“You look amazing, baby,” Tony mused. Then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his sub’s sternum. Right above the place where the harness was divided up the middle and split to loop over Peter’s shoulders.

As he pulled his lips away, his hands came up to cup at Peter’s chest. His pecs were pushed out from the way the rope was tight around them. Tony was entranced.

“Look at these gorgeous tits,” he teased, thumbs quickly swiping over Peter’s peaked nipples.

It caused Peter to flush and shiver, arching up into the slight contact. It was nothing too serious, but he needed it all the same.

“Daddy,” he whined, breath catching in his throat. “Please….”

“Please what?” Tony asked, smirking slightly. “Use your words, kid. What do you want?”

Peter huffed. “Want you to touch me,” he breathed.

Tony’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh, is that all? Want me to touch you? Well, baby, I’m sure I can do just that.”

The gleam in his eyes made the teen slightly nervous again, but-

No, maybe nervous was the wrong word. He still couldn’t quite come up with a better description, though. Maybe he was… He was excited. Tony obviously had plans for him. And he still couldn’t wait to know exactly what they were.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said sweetly.

Tony hummed softly, quickly pinching one of Peter’s nipples before withdrawing his touch entirely. “You remember that, okay? You wanted me to touch you. Acted like you’d die without it.”

Peter whimpered at the sharp stimulation and then again at its absence, hips rocking up unconsciously. “I’ll remember, Daddy, promise.”

“Good. I think it’s about time we start.” He paused for a moment, sitting back as he looked over his boy. “You remember your safeword?”

He shook his head as Peter nodded. “I need you to tell me what it is, kid. So I know that you know.”

Another little huff, the teen squirming impatiently. “It’s ‘rhubarb’, Daddy. Please-”

Tony smiled. "Alright, baby, thank you." Reaching out, he caressed Peter's cheek before leaning down to press their lips together. He let his tongue swipe over the teen's bottom lip and he was instantly granted access.

Peter mewled when Tony’s tongue licked at his own, body going boneless when a hand also began to apply a gentle but firm grip on his neck. He could feel the metal of Tony’s wedding ring. The soft, plaintive sounds just kept coming while Tony explored his mouth and a punched out little gasp left him when he suddenly found himself under the pressure of the man’s bodyweight. Without his permission, his hips jerked forward, desperately seeking more friction than the snug press of the lace panties against his leaking cock. The differing textures of Tony’s shirt and pants sent a shiver down his spine, and while the pace of his rutting was slow, the amount of force behind it increased.

Breathing heavily, Tony pulled back for a minute and turned his head so that he could mouth wetly at the side of his husband’s neck. He sucked a bruise into the skin there, drinking up the high, whines that the action elicited from Peter. “That’s it, baby, you gonna use Daddy’s body to get off?” He let out a groan when Peter’s erection slid against his own where it lay trapped in his briefs and suit pants.

Nodding, the boy shifted as he tried to move his limbs to wrap around Tony’s neck and waist. He cried out softly when he couldn’t, pulling at his restraints. “Daddy,” he whined, voice thin. “I want- I need-”

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed, lips capturing Peter’s again before pulling away, a strand of spit connecting them. “I know what you need, Peter.” He licked filthily into the teen’s open mouth. His dick throbbed at the way Peter went boneless underneath him again, offering himself up and letting Tony explore his mouth in a way that was truly indecent.

Their bodies undulated against each other as they made out, and Tony could tell that the younger man was getting close by the way his muscles would clench every couple of seconds.

He ground down against the soft, pliant body on the mattress, groaning. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, looking into Peter’s moony eyes as the boy rutted desperately against his abdomen. “You’re so perfect, Peter, so beautiful. Shit, c’mon kid, make yourself cum for Daddy. C’mon baby.”

“Ahhhhh,” Peter whined, squeezing his eyes shut. “Daddy, please, gonna- I’m gonna-,” the words were cut off by a choked gasp as he tensed, toes curling. Still trapped in the panties, and in between their bodies, his cock jumped in its confines, hot spurts of sticky cum pooling underneath the head and smearing with his movements.

Tony could feel a wet patch forming on his thigh and he moaned low in his throat, his own erection almost painfully hard. But this wasn’t about him, it was all for Peter. He’d get his turn eventually. “Good boy, Peter,” he whispered roughly, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, taking in the blissed out look on his boy’s face.

“Daddy,” he sighed, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Peter’s body continued shuttering through the aftershocks, hips twitching up weakly as Tony pulled away.

After one more kiss, Tony started sitting up again to look over the teen’s body. His mouth watered at the sight of the cum against the lace covered hipbone, and the corresponding stain on the dark fabric of his pants. He ran a hand lightly over his own cock, adjusting it. “How did that feel, baby? Happy now?”

“Mhm….” he mumbled, again going limp against the bed. He felt like he was melting, disappearing like wet spun sugar. Everything felt slow. “Jus’ what I wanted, so good Daddy….” but he couldn’t deny that he still wanted more. He wanted his Daddy’s hands on him, possessive and guiding. Although he already felt the sensitivity creeping in, making him think that maybe waiting for a little bit before going again would be a good idea.

“Uh huh. That’s good, honey. You were so good for me, Peter.” Tony’s fingers trailed up Peter’s thigh, watching the muscles flex and tense underneath his touch. “But I’m not done with you yet, kid.”

Peter made a confused noise in the back of his throat before he started whining as his Daddy’s fingers brushed over his slowly softening cock. He arched his back, pushing his ass down into the bed in a fruitless attempt to get away from the touch. “Daddy, too much.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. He didn’t move his hand away, since Peter didn’t safeword, but he did pause, not doing anything more. “Too much? Do you need to use your word?”

The teen slowly shook his head, breathing hard. He didn’t want Tony to stop. He was just sensitive and he knew that the feeling would only increase.

“Okay, baby. If you’re sure.” He hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of Peter’s panties, slowly starting to tug them down his thighs. He grinned at the sight of the teen’s flushed cock laying against his hip, skin slick with streaks of cum. “You look gorgeous, Peter. You know that?” He brushed over the half-hard length, chuckling at how the boy twitched. “I know, I’m sorry. But I’m just doing what you wanted.”

Peter figured that was right. He had wanted to be touched. He should have known that was going to come back to bite him in the ass. A soft whine left him as Tony’s fingers started massaging his cock back to hardness. Although it didn’t take much.

“There we go...I knew you could go again. With that incredible recovery period of yours,” he teased.

Suddenly his touch was gone and Peter squirmed, hips rocking again. But he stilled when he noticed what Tony was doing.

The older man started with a chaste kiss to his lips, trailing presses of his lips down the teen’s body slowly. He moved down the bed as he worked, settling between Peter’s thighs with his lips on his hip bone. Hardly an inch away from where Peter wanted him.

Peter’s cock twitched against his stomach, like it was trying to reach Tony’s mouth. “Daddy….”

“Uh uh,” Tony chided, blowing a gentle breath across the sub’s damp skin. “You stay still. I’m doing things at my pace, you need to be patient.”

Dropping his head back against the pillows, Peter let out a shaky breath. He had a feeling that it would be a long night.

[tangledstarlight]

good, bad or the space between (maybe i’m all three)

i just got a lot of thoughts and feelings about luke implying (twice) that he’s possibly going to hell??? and like i’m not sure what this is, i started it at 3am once and it got out of hand and also doesn’t really have a conclusion?? but okay.

luke thinks he’s a bad person, then he starts thinking about fate and destiny and soulmates and his thoughts spiral from there. but alex and reggie are there to try and help slow them down.

trigger warnings!! swearing, mentions of death (cos they’re ghosts) 

also on ao3

The thing is, Luke didn’t think he was a bad person. Not really.

He’s never killed someone, never gone out of his way to hurt someone, never purposely broken the law. But he’s also never gone out of his way to be a good person either. His homework was always handed in late, he never hesitated to jump into a fight if someone else started it, he definitely stole a candy bar from the corner shop when he was ten and never told anyone.

He’d always sort of considered himself neutral. That he’d have time to work on being a better person (because he was seventeen and dying really wasn’t high on his list of worries) after the band got signed and they were touring the world.

And then they’d died and became ghosts.

And suddenly everything that he’d been putting off – thanking bars who gave them a chance, dropping a few dollars into donation buckets, going home, talking to his mom, his dad, making things right – was off the table. He’d missed his chance.

There’s a moment, a brief few seconds after they first land back in the studio and Julie is running, screaming, from them, where he thinks maybe being not a good person but not a bad person in life means you end up as a ghost forever.

But then he looks over at Alex and at Reggie and they’re the best people he knows. They don’t have a bad bone between them, they’re always kind and polite and caring and just good people. If anyone deserves to go to a happy peaceful afterlife it would be Alex and Reggie.

That starts a second brief moment of panic in Luke’s brain. Because did he rob them of a peaceful afterlife as well as being responsible for robbing them of life? The street dogs had been his idea after all, he’d said they were probably fine, he’d lead them right into death.

The thought haunts him, pokes at him, follows him around until someone mentions the idea of unfinished business and he lets out a breath.

He might have been indirectly responsible for their deaths but at least he wasn’t the reason they were ghosts. It was a small comfort.

Small, because while Luke is pretty sure he deserves this limbo, in between, half-life that they’ve been dumped in, he doesn’t think Alex and Reggie do. They suffered and survived so much in life, they shouldn’t have to deal with more pain in the after. And he’d give anything to change it.

But they were still dead and it was still partly his fault and they still don’t know what their unfinished business is and now there was Julie.

Julie with her voice of an angle and warm smile and afterlife saving hugs and understanding eyes when he tells her that he misses his mom. Julie, who makes him want to live and to be a good person. But he’s already dead and honestly, does being a good person in your afterlife even make a difference?

She makes him feel more alive now that he’s dead then he did when he was alive which is just. It’s not something he really wants to get into because this was all just going to end badly anyway. Right?

Because he’s dead. He can’t change that. And being here, with Julie, being with her every chance he gets, Luke is pretty sure that’s selfish of him. They’re going to – hopefully – move on one day and the boys will go somewhere better and he’ll go – wherever it is people like him go and Julie will be left alone.

A good person wouldn’t fall in love with someone they knew was going to be hurt in the end, would they? Surely a good person would stop it now, when it was new and undefined and still unspoken. They’d stop it before it just ended in heartbreak and pain. Luke didn’t mind taking on all that pain but Julie didn’t deserve any of it.

They were the ones who fell into her life, he was the one who’d gotten them killed, so Luke should be the one to take on all the fallout.

But he was selfish. He wasn’t a good person, and maybe it made him a bad person. But all he wanted to do was spend every second he could get with her. Even though he knew it was just going to end badly. He couldn’t stop himself.

A part of him, a small, selfish, clinging to any little bit of hope, part him wondered if soulmates were real. If maybe, just maybe this wasn’t destined to be a tragedy like so much else in his life.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” The question falls from his mouth before he can stop it. They’re at the beach, outside what used to be Reggie’s house and Alex has just finished rambling about Willie with this hopeless little smile on his face and he can hear the waves crashing and, if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend this is twenty-five years ago.

“What, like ‘there’s only one person in the world for you’ kind of soulmates?” Alex asks, head tilting to look at him and Luke shrugs, Reggie propping his head up on his hands as he rolls over in the sand.

“Yeah. And like, fate and destiny and all that shit,” because he’s been thinking about it a lot lately.

Luke had never really given fate or destiny much thought before. When they were alive that is (just another one of the things he’d put off because there was supposed to be more time). But now he was dead and a ghost and well, it gave him a lot of time to think about things he hadn’t before.

They were kind of cool concepts, fate and destiny and soulmates, something he could make a song out of one day maybe, but he’d never really considered them real. Because if he did, then he had to think about how it was his fate to die at seventeen, and how he was never destined to make it big with his band, and how maybe he needed to die to find his soulmate twenty-five years later and how there might be some big powerful entity out in the world just waiting for him to slip up and ruin everything.

He was pretty good at ruining things and peoples lives. If he was to have a superpower, Luke thinks that would be it.

“I don’t know, never really thought about it.” Alex frowns like this has opened a door to thoughts he’d never considered before and Luke bites his lip, because the last thing he wanted was to send Alex on a thought spiral. Because of course he has, because Luke is good at doing the wrong thing.

“I hope it’s real,” Reggie buts in before Luke can come up with something to say to Alex, and both of them turn to look at him with surprise.” I just think it’s nice, y’know? That there’s someone out there for everyone, that there’s someone out there who will get you, even if you don’t get yourself. And it sucks that maybe we’ve missed that, being, y’know, dead,” now Reggie is frowning, fingers of one hand digging into the sand and from the corner of his eye Luke can see Alex open his mouth about to say something when Reggie looks up at them, a smile on his face.

“But maybe we didn’t miss it. Maybe we had to die, y’know? Like it was part of some bigger plan. We had to die because someone knew that Julie would need us and that Alex had to meet Willie and that the 90’s just weren’t the right time for us. And that all this is fucking fate and it’ll make sense one day. Better than thinking we died eating street dogs for no reason, anyway.”

Alex seems to be caught on the way Reggie has pointed out Willie specifically for him, and if it was any of time Luke would probably tease him for the way his cheeks had gone pink. Seeming to notice it too, Reggie directs his attention to Luke, giving their drummer a chance to wrangle his thoughts.

“Do you? Believe in it all, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Luke shrugs, brows furrowing as he looks out at the sea and the horizon and the sky that’s slowly turning purple as the sun sets. “I think if soulmates are real then Julie’s probably mine.”

When he doesn’t get any response to his declaration he pulls his eyes away from the horizon to find Reggie nodding at him and Alex raising an eyebrow like what he hasn’t just said is absurd or wrong. Don’t they get it? Frowning, Luke tries again.

“Which is bad, y’know? Because she’s– well she’s Julie. And she deserves like, the fucking best and I just ruin everything. All I’ve got is my music, the stuff I can write and even Bobby took that from me so, I mean, I’ve not even really got that. Plus I’m like, the whole reason we died and probably part of why we’re stuck here as ghosts and honestly if soulmates are real then someone is being really shitty to Julie by making me hers. I know I’d be the luckiest guy in the world but – being stuck with me? Pretty fucked up. It’s not like I’m a good person or anything, y’know?”

Alex is gaping at him now, head shaking slowly and Reggie has gone unnaturally still, hands full of sand curling into fists. Luke just frowns, not sure what’s wrong with them.

“That’s – okay, yeah no,” Alex starts, mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to come up with something. “So much of what you just said is so wrong I don’t– I don’t even know where to start.”

“Luke. You’re not the reason we died. You know that, right?” Reggie asks and oh.

Luke had thought they’d known. The street dogs were his idea, he’d not stopped them when Alex had pointed out they tasted funny, he’d not gotten them help quick enough after the first time Reggie threw up.

“It was my idea to get street dogs that night. I basically walked us right into it.”

“No.”

And Luke has never heard Reggie sounds so sure of something then that single little word.

“You didn’t kill us man, the battery acid soaked hotdogs and pickles killed us. The food that we all ate willingly. You didn’t force it down our throats.” Reggie looks pained as he says it, like he’s reliving the moment all over again, but his eyes are focused solely on Luke’s and it takes him a moment to realise that he’s in pain because of what Luke’s been thinking, not because of their painful deaths.

“None of this is your fault. If any of us are to blame for dying and being ghosts and all the other shit then it’s like, it’s equal blame on all three of us. Though the guy who sold us the food is probably the one really at fault here,” Alex muttered the last part, lips pulling into a small grimace.

“But–” Luke starts, only to be cut off by Alex smacking a hand over his mouth and okay. Kinda rude.

“Nuh uh, no more talking from you until it’s positive things.”

“Dude, it’s shit. We died, it was shit. We almost died again, even more shit. But we didn’t,” Reggie snaps his fingers in Luke’s face, as if to punctuate his point, “And yeah, we don’t really get this whole ghost existence thing, and apparently no one else does either, we’re clearly special like that. But that doesn't mean it’s a bad thing. It’s our second chance.”

“You deserve a second chance at life just as much as we do,” Alex says, hand still covering Luke’s mouth even as he looks him right in the eyes and he really hates how they both seem to know exactly what he’s been thinking.

Even if he still thinks they’re wrong. Because Luke, what did he ever do in life that made him worthy of a second chance? Of getting to still be with his best friends, his family? Or getting to meet Julie? Of getting a chance to finally touch his dream?

“Do you think we don’t deserve a second chance?” Reggie asks and Luke can feel his eyes widen even as he shakes his head quickly, a muffled ‘no’ making it past Alex’s hand and he’s seconds away from turning into a five year old and licking it when Alex finally takes it away.

“What!? No! Of course you guys deserve this! After all the crap that you put up with when you were alive the universe owed you a second chance. You two deserve like, the gold standard of an afterlife.” Why don’t they understand that?

“Then why is it so hard for you to understand that we think the same about you? That you deserve a gold standard afterlife too. With us. With Julie.” Reggie has grabbed his hands, Luke’s not sure when he did that. Or when Alex moved so he was sitting so close their legs were pressed together, no space between them.

“I– I don’t–” Luke tries to to say something, anything. But he doesn’t have an answer, he doesn’t know why.

Because he’s always thought of himself as not being a bad person, but not being a good person, of being neutral and thinking he’d have time to figure it all out later. And now he’s head and his best friends are holding him and telling him he’s not guilty of second hand murder and–

He lets out a shuddering breath, shoulder shrugging helplessly as he looks between them both.

“I’m not to blame?” Idly, from a far away point in his mind, he noticed how small his voice sounds. How it could almost get lost in the crashing of waves.

“No. Not for anything that happened to us.” Reggie squeezes his hands.

“But I’m not– I– I didn’t do anything in life that made me a good person. I fucked up so much stuff, my parents I–” he trailed off, eyes going a little unfocused.

“We were seventeen Luke. We were kids, and we were meant to have like, a whole lifetime to fix the stuff we broke. You didn’t do anything worse than me and Reg, which means you deserve to be happy just as much as we do.”

Luke nods at the words, lets them settle in his mind. Tries to absorb what they’re saying. Tries to believe it the same way they seem to. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to, but he can at least try.

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

aight aight, real shit; let's say you got the chance to rewrite the entirety of gossip girl exactly how you want. make a brief description of what would happen in each season. (you can decide whether there's a fourth season or not)

oh i LOVE this ask, and i am so flattered to be asked this, haha. i have SO many thoughts, i’ve been thinking about this non-stop, but i’ll try to be as brief as possible. also, disclaimer, i don’t remember all the seasons equally clearly. like i barely remember s2. haha, whoops.

season 1: i love this season as is, for the most part. i think the tone of it was actually very serious and involved? like the show was actively trying not to be frivolous with heavy topics, and the way we were getting to see the characters seemed like they were trying to bring out character depth and the complexities of their lives in very deliberate ways. nate’s whole thing with his parents gets so much focus, and it’s not something the show glorifies, it’s something that is meant to make you uncomfortable and worried for him. 

i would have nate be less of a dudebro, jenny & nate’s friendship being a little more solid, dan being a little more involved in jenny’s problems + helping her find her space, vanessa/nate to happen earlier - after nate breaks up w/ blair and realises she looks happier, i would have him not try and get back with her (lol, dude, the fact that she’s happy after breaking up with you means you probably shouldn’t be dating her.) more exploration of eric’s mental health. more dan and blair friendship. i would keep chair the way it is this season. i would not have a derena breakup - i’d have them take a break after the georgina reveal and get back together during the summer after talking about it and deciding to be more honest & open with each other. and, what the hell, i would have lily not blame serena (???) for being taken advantage of in the whole pete fairman situation. serena wasn’t sober, she was 16, that dude was in his 30s, georgina was taping her w/o her consent. how is any of this serena’s fault??? i hate lily’s reaction so much.

season 2: i... don’t remember enough of this season, sadly. it’s been too long since i watched it. i would majorly change jenny’s arc here, though. eleanor stealing her dress was majorly, majorly fucked up, and i think jenny should’ve done something then and there. also the whole thing with ‘lily is a mother to chuck’.... i would’ve loved it if lily had been like that to jenny. the girl needed it, and lily would’ve actually been able to help jenny establish connections in the professional world and whatnot. i think jenny should’ve transferred out of constance - not necessarily homeschooling maybe, but gone somewhere else. unlike dan, she didn’t even want to get into an ivy, she wanted to make it big as a designer. so. that. 

oh nate my love. i’d get this trainwreck of a boy some therapy. while i hate that the catherine thing happened, things like that do happen all the time, and i’d be interested in sort of handling the aftermath of it in a responsible way. i would not have... a lot of serena’s arc and decisions (from what i can remember) were really random in this season. i’d have her break up with dan at some point. and vanessa would need a new subject for her short film, and she’d choose serena.

nate doesn’t really date anyone, this season. but he and jenny open up to each other abt having gay crushes on people who treat you like shit - jenny’s thing with agnes - nate rescues her when they’re taking those pictures in her flat and let’s say she doesn’t go back to agnes. instead of kissing her, nate talks to her instead, and tells her about carter, tells her about chuck. and jenny talks about her feelings for blair, her feelings for agnes. and both of them sort of go... “it sucks, but all we can do is try not to become the kind of people we hate, right?”

dan pines for nate. majorly. massively. obviously. i think the only person who really notices is blair, and this would lead to new hijinks and shenanigans. also!! i do not want chair in s2. maybe it can go there for a bit but definitely not to the extent in canon. i want blair to have the same moment of being unable to deny her cruelty / needing to be accountable that she did in that ‘age of dissonance’ play. and. this sounds fucky but i want the dan/rachel stuff to stay as it is, and later, in s4, for dan & serena to talk about rachel & ben respectively and be like ‘hey, this was a fucked up thing to happen to us, wasn’t it?’ 

i would also like to get to know blair’s “minions” better as people. i mean. they all seemed hella fascinating to me, and the show’s decision to make them superficial and unidimensional was very depressing.

season 3: hot garbage, throw canon away. when chuck goes away to paris or wherever, let him not come back. goodbye, dude! dan, blair & vanessa friendship at nyu is so, so important to me. also im losing my mind always at how vanessa and serena catch dan on that walk of shame and they’re both like ‘college is a time for experimentation!’ and nobody does anything even slightly bisexual (unless you count that threesome later, which, blah.) a serenessa / date dynamic in college would’ve been great. dan transferring to columbia like blair does and rooming with nate and just, the gayness of it all. dan & blair become really, really close, and d&b&v watch movies + go to art exhibits together and are all SO DAMN PRETENTIOUS. serena finds it sexy, nate finds it terrifying. 

the william stuff would be interesting if he were actually held accountable. like that man has no right being a doctor, and medical malpractice needs to be brought up. and jenny’s whole arc this season makes me so sad. i think it would’ve been interesting if she’d been a ‘queen’ and ruled alongside eric, and just, the two of them forcing people to be nice, sort of like they try to do with people who are mean to nelly in s2 i think it is? but also.. jenny out of constance is very good, and i think i mentioned that earlier, haha, whoops.

season 4 : serenessa breakup, for whatever reason, probably to do with the william fuckery, because i think vanessa would react in similar ways to nate (”serena, i know he’s your dad, but we have to do the right thing” / “it still wasn’t your call to make” / “he’s a certified doctor, serena, a man like that has no right -” / “god vanessa, you really don’t get it, do you?” ). uhhh i would actually... if i had to choose i would honestly go blairnessa >>>>> dair. i love how blair & vanessa can keep each other on their toes and hold each other accountable. like? blair’s classist or racist and dan’s just like, *smiles*. vanessa would actively be like ‘hey, stop that.’ (this is one of the few actual criticisms i have about d/b as a relationship, RIP.) 

(edited to add: yeah, i think blairnessa WOULD be a sustainable relationship, more abt that here! )

yes to the milo arc, but dan gets to keep milo (his friends threaten georgina and go all ‘you made him sign the certificate. don’t make us take you to court’ because i love these morally grey assholes but also because g DID trick dan into thinking milo was his and dan was ready to reshape his whole life around that kid which is more than georgina was willing to do. plus endgame: jack/georgina are not parents i want milo to have.) i would also have more of a rufus & dan fallout over the milo thing. i think rufus would be really nasty about it all tbh.

the dair arc for blair and vanessa! let the juliet stuff happen, but let it be less awful + let it be seen as Bad + let serena get help & not forgive her for it. let serena NOT date ben after, what the hell. i want d&s to talk about their shared feelings for high school teachers and to realise, in retrospect, as adults, that what happened was crossing lines. let blair and vanessa suddenly drop dan and do the movies + galleries stuff on their own. and dan’s like ??? but he’s busy being a parent with nate supporting him. dan’s drama is very much parenting things. there would be some nonsense involving nate’s family pushing back, because ‘we stood by while you dated him, nate, we thought it was a phase. but raising a child with another man? this is unacceptable.’ i would like nate to get disowned by the family, and need to find his own feet. and to get a REAL SHOT AT HAPPINESS away from that terrible environment.

season 5: i want this to be a good serena season. let her find her calling doing creative things. let her and carter travel the world. let her just be whoever she wants to be. let her and vanessa patch their friendship up. let her have an open relationship with carter, let her have a lot of sex with a lot of random people and not feel guilty about it. let her really really blossom. i want more eric! maybe he’s in london with jenny, and she’s working on her fashion stuff, and he’s realising that he really wants to be a counsellor. 

some time-skips, maybe. i really want to see dan’s whole thing of being a parent. sending milo to kindergarten and spending the whole time milo’s gone on edge and anxious about everything that could go wrong, while nate comforts him. let nate try to get a job because he no longer has a trust fund, and navigate everything that comes with that. let vanessa be there for him. why the fuck am i phrasing my sentences like this - can you tell that i studied physics once?? oh well.

blair & vanessa handling a lot of things. vanessa meeting harold!! vanessa’s parents being disapproving of blair, but ruby standing up for her. blair & vanessa planning their future properly. blair & vanessa babysitting milo and talking about kids. 

and there can be drama too, there should always be drama. but i would like wholesome stuff at the centre of it too, you know? the ivy/lola nonsense can go on in the background, i don’t actually care that much. as long as ivy doesn’t go around fucking people’s fathers for no understandable or discernable reason, i don’t really care lkdhlfdkhg. (it was just so inexplicable and so random!)

season 6: uh, i don’t know. this was a bad season for everyone in canon, except chuck. i would throw it all away. i would actually love if we had pre-series rufly instead: every time those two bring up their past together i’m like 👀 because it sounds like a dream. or focus entirely on jenny and eric and their life. i am obsessed with jenny and eric being... sort of queerplatonic, sort of like, best friends. there’s no romance and no sex between them (eric’s canonically gay, and jenny’s a lesbian because i said so) but i think the way jenny and eric are is very, very life partners in a way that isn’t romantic OR sexual. so they’d have a little place together and would support each other. and just. what are they up to now? also. kati, iz, penelope, hazel, nelly... what r they doing now? one of the few things i actually liked about s6 as it was was that nelly was that reporter and that she’d found her people in yale. nelly yuki getting a happy and fulfilling ending and being a successful woman was so good and we actually got a little bit of that. i’d like more of that, for the rest of the girls, you know?

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 5: Keeping Up Appearances

by @dracusfyre

Bucky stared sightlessly at New York traffic as he quietly panicked. He tried and failed to think of any way to get out of this, now that he was already in the car; if he could have, he would have given himself nausea and diarrhea immediately and suffered the indignity instead of escorting Tony Stark, the Mechanic, the single most powerful crime boss in Manhattan, to the Policeman’s Ball. What in the hell was he going to say to his handler? For three blocks he debated whether to give them any advance warning at all; it would be so much easier to deal with the fallout later by claiming that Stark had taken his phone before telling him where he was going. For three more blocks, he tried and failed to type something, each sentence he came up with sounding dumber than the last, so with only the barest bit of guilt he stashed his phone in the car’s glove compartment as Happy pulled into the drop off line for the ball.

Cameras started flashing almost as soon as he got out of the car to open Stark’s door, and while Stark climbed out, smiling and waving, he tried to look as boring as possible, mouth a flat line as he ignored the press and kept an eye out for anyone looking suspicious. Just what exactly was he supposed to be guarding Stark from, anyway? Other mob bosses in attendance? A mugger? The police?

“Want a drink?” Stark said once they got inside, and Bucky forced himself to shake his head even though he desperately wanted to say yes. He trailed behind Stark as he glad-handed the crowd, making jokes and asking after people’s kids, and miserably tallied the various important people in the room: the mayor, who gave Stark a handshake and a clap on the back for his donation to the Food Bank For NYC; a representative to the state house, who managed to solicit campaign donations in the guise of complimenting him on his philanthropic efforts; a US Senator that thanked him for his investment advice. And those were just the people that Bucky recognized; there was no telling how many government officials and CEOs that numbered among the people that subtly held court around Stark. He wondered how many knew about Stark’s criminal ties, and how many would care if they did know.

Finally, for Bucky’s sanity, they made the announcement for dinner and everyone filed dutifully into the main hall where they set up tables for the event.

“I was wondering if you were coming, Tony,” an amused voice said from behind them. Stark turned, and the smile he had been wearing all night widened and finally reached his eyes as a tall, slim redhead let him pull her down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Pepper, so glad to see you,” he said, taking one of her hands and putting it in his elbow. “Are you sitting next to me?”

“Of course.” Bucky recognized the woman from Stark’s case file; she was Virginia Potts, his personal lawyer. Though ‘lawyer’ didn’t really capture her, really; from a police perspective, she was Cerberus, the dragon guarding the tower, Gandalf on the bridge: in short, “You Shall Not Pass” in human form. She was largely the reason why Bucky was on this undercover assignment; faced with the potential of meeting her in court, no judge in the city would grant them a warrant without a literal smoking gun of Stark’s guilt. She was just as well connected as Stark was, to boot; one of the other senior partners at her firm was on the short list of the Democrats’ Supreme Court Justice picks and the other worked for the state as the deputy Attorney General. “How are you? Who’s this?” she asked, finally noticing Bucky following them to the dinner table.

“I’m fine, and this is a new guy,” Stark said as he pulled the seat out for Potts to sit. “I call him Blue Eyes.”

Potts rolled her eyes and offered Bucky a surprisingly kind smile. “Don’t worry, he can’t remember my real name either,” she said. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t, ma’am,” Bucky said, returning her smile despite himself.

“Oh, Bill, it’s good to see you,” Stark said, and Bucky glanced away from Potts to see that sitting right across from Stark was the NY police commissioner.

 Tony hid a smile as he heard the strangled noise Blue Eyes made when he recognized the police commissioner. But after an evening of watching the man sweat as Tony rubbed elbows with the most powerful men in the state, he took pity on him. “I’ll be good for a while, if you need to take a break,” he said, and watched with amusement as the man all but fled from the table.

“What was that about?” Pepper asked with a small frown, thanking the wait staff as they filled up her glass with water and set a glass of white wine in front of her.

“I think his eyes aren’t the only thing about that guy that’s blue,” Tony said, looking significantly towards the police commissioner. Pepper’s eyebrows shot up and she took a drink of wine as she realized what he was saying, then she barely swallowed it in time before she laughed.

“And you brought him here? You are a terrible person,” she scolded him, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

“Yeah. It’s been fun watching him trying to avoid the cameramen all night. Especially because he’s been so worried about being photographed that he probably didn’t notice the fact that half of the conversations I’ve had tonight involved breaking the law in some way or another.” For example, what had probably sounded like a request for a campaign contribution was actually a solicitation for a bribe, which Tony was going to pay because politicians were just good investments, really, and honestly the Senator Walker should really talk less about how much money he made off of insider trading, particularly when he is using his committee positions to do it.

This time, Pepper’s eyes held a flash of warning instead of amusement, and Tony held up his hands in surrender, turning the conversation to safer waters as they ate.

                                                               ***

To Bucky’s surprise, Stark was ready to go not long after dinner; for some reason Bucky had the idea that he would want to stay all night, shaking hands and taking turns around the dance floor. He was all smiles as he left, but as soon as the car door closed behind him, he collapsed against the car seat with a sigh.

“You know,” Stark said, eyes closed as he rested his head on the back of the seat, “the funny thing about going to these events, is that I probably shook hands with more criminals tonight than I have in the past six months put together. But no one cares about that because the people who are supposed to care are criminals too.”

“That sucks, Boss,” Happy said, clearly having heard this complaint before. Now that they were far from the crowds and bright lights, Stark’s good mood seemed to be curdling; he sounded almost depressed. 

“It’s exhausting, is what it is. Blue Eyes, have you ever had to shake hands with and smile at someone that you hated all the way down to your bones?” Stark’s voice was muffled and Bucky looked back to see that his hands were over his face as he rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. There’s always that one guy at every job, right? The asshole that no one likes?”

Stark barked out a laugh. “Having only one would be nice, actually.” He sat up suddenly and scooted forward until he was all but in the front seat. “Let’s get dessert. Is there a late night ice cream place? Or pie? Or donuts? Back there they only had some sort of fancy baklava on the menu and I don't like honey.”

Happy and Bucky shared a look and Bucky patted his pockets for his phone before remembering that he’d put it in the glove compartment. Then he remembered why he’d left it in the car, and winced as he saw the notifications on his phone. But it was after midnight so that was going to be a Future Bucky problem. He pulled up the search bar and found a late night cookie company that was on their way home.

When they got there, there was no place to park, so Bucky got out with Stark to go inside while Happy stayed with the car. Unsurprisingly, they were the oldest people inside; the cashier and the two other customers looked like they were still in high school or college, because realistically who would be looking for a sugar fix this late at night except students. And one mob boss with a sweet tooth, apparently. Stark made a beeline for the display case and all but pressed his nose to the glass.

“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”

“Something with fruit and nuts in it,” Bucky said. “You?” Bucky came up next to him to read all the labels. “Mexican chili cookie? Who wants a spicy cookie?”

“Can’t do better than chocolate chip,” Stark said.  “But that salted caramel is speaking to me.” He glanced up at the menu and said, “Ooh, ice cream sandwiches,” sounding so excited that Bucky had to smother a smile. It was hard to keep a straight face as Stark deliberated; the man was being so stupidly cute as he debated the merits of the different options that Bucky had the dumbest fucking desire to kiss him. Stark ended up buying a whole box of cookies and an ice cream sandwich because he couldn’t decide on which cookies he wanted, and because he kept thinking of people to give them to: “Happy will say he’s on a diet but I think he’ll want one of these M&M cookies. I don’t think I’ve ever seen mint in a cookie, I’ll get that one for Rhodey, but also this sprinkle one because it will be funny.”

Maybe it was the sugar or the impulsive shopping trip, but Stark seemed in lighter spirits as they drove the rest of the way back to his garage, telling funny stories about the people that had been at the event. It even made Happy unbend a little, as much as he ever did when he was working, and at one point Bucky was laughing so hard he was in tears.

“Here’s good, Happy,” Stark said before they could pull into the secured parking lot behind the garage.

“Are you sure, Boss?” Happy said dubiously. “It’s not safe-”

“I got Blue Eyes to protect my virtue, right Blue Eyes?” Stark said. Bucky almost bobbled the box of cookies as climbed out of the car at the mention of Stark’s virtue, and when Stark met his eyes Bucky knew he’d done it on purpose. “Come on inside with me,” Stark continued. “We need to talk about the event tonight.” He leaned over to look at Happy through the window. “You go on home, I’ll make sure he gets home ok.”  When Happy nodded, Stark tapped on the top of the car and stepped back from the curb as the car pulled away

Bucky’s hands tightened on the box of cookies as his heart gave a heavy thump and his mouth went dry. He swallowed against a spike of nerves. We need to talk was never a good sign, but also, he was about to be alone with Stark. Trying not to think about what had happened earlier, he trailed awkwardly behind Stark as he put in the security code for the door and stepped inside, turning on a few of the big banks of fluorescent lights as he went.

“You can change, if you want,” Stark said, gesturing towards the bathroom where Bucky’s clothes were still folded neatly on the sink. He shrugged out of his suit coat and unbuttoned the sleeves, rolling them up so the cuffs didn’t dangle. Bucky’s eyes lingered for a moment on the lean muscles of his forearm, the strong, slender wrist bracketed by the narrow-banded watch, and decided that a moment alone in the bathroom was a good idea.

He changed quickly and splashed cold water on his face, giving himself a stern lecture about professionalism in the mirror, reminding himself why he was really here. His boss would be telling him that this was a great opportunity, that he seemed to have Stark’s trust. That now would be the perfect time to dig a little deeper. Bucky told himself that even though Stark was handsome and funny and apparently the kind of guy that would stuff a hundred dollar bill in a tip jar didn’t mean that…

“Wait, start over,” he muttered, shaking his head. Even though Stark seemed like a good person he was, at the very least, the target of a massive criminal investigation, even if it did seem like maybe there were worse criminals out there they could be investigating. They weren’t friends, he reminded himself. Stark didn’t know anything about him, and would probably drop him into the Hudson if he did. With that sobering thought, Bucky sighed, gathered up the fancy suit and shoes Stark had lent him, and went back out to the main room.

Then that whole pep talk promptly went out the window as he came out to see Stark sitting on a metal table, swinging his legs like a kid as he ate a cookie. As Bucky came closer, he saw that Stark had kicked off his shoes and had also taken a signle bite out of half the cookies in the box. When he looked up at Bucky with a smile of welcome, Bucky knew that he was in trouble.

“So what did we need to talk about?” he asked, taking a seat on the table next to Sta- Tony. He might as well stop calling him Stark; it’s not as if thinking of him by his last name was helping him maintain any sort of objectivity.

“Just getting your impression about tonight. Did you notice anything I should know about?” Tony held out the cookie box and Bucky took one of the oatmeal craisin ones, one of the few that Tony hadn't taste tested.

He took a bite to buy himself some time to think; Bucky had a lot of observations from tonight, ranging from the completely inappropriate (the curve of Tony's ass when Ms. Potts dropped something and Tony bent over to pick it up) to the irrelevant (not impressed with the music selection) to the potentially explosive (the Commandant had a drinking problem and was probably cheating on his wife). Assessing which were relevant to Tony took a moment. “There were a couple of people that were giving you the evil eye all night,” he said finally. “Right after you shook hands with them they looked like they wanted to shank you.”

Tony threw his head back and laughed at that. “I’m sure. Was one of them a skinny tool with glasses? Justin Hammer?”

“Yeah, that was one. Another one was the Special Agent in Charge of an FBI satellite office-”

“Not surprising,” Tony commented. “She’s new. The new ones are always hungry, she’ll come around.”

“-And the other was a big guy, bald but had a beard. I didn’t catch his name, sounded like you called him Toby.”

“You mean Obie? Obediah Stane?” Tony said with surprise. He dug out his phone and pulled up a picture. “This guy?”

Bucky leaned over to look at the phone. “Yeah. I always saw him watching you when you were talking to other people. Guy had eyes like a shark. People like him can kill someone and pass a lie detector test while his hands were still bloody. Who is he?”

“A family friend.” Tony frowned down at his phone and tapped it against his palm thoughtfully. “At least, I thought he was.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “Maybe I’m wrong, you know, I’m not-” an expert, is what he was going to say, but he stopped because no matter how you sliced it, cop or criminal, he was. He was an expert in assessing threats, and that guy was definitely bad news.

Tony waved his words away and tossed his phone on the table with a clatter. “It’s fine. Better to know. I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

Bucky shook his head and took another bite of cookie. “Why do you go to these things if they are full of people you don’t like and apparently people who don’t like you?”

“Networking, mostly. Obligation. Gotta show my face every now and then. Spite,” he added with a smirk. “But it’s also a good reminder.” When Bucky made a questioning sound, he took another cookie from the box and nibbled the edge.  “Look, I was a rich asshole for a long time,” Tony said after a moment. “Too long. Then one day, I met a guy at a party. Don’t even know how he got invited because he wasn’t rich, wasn’t famous, he was just some doctor. And I don’t remember what I was saying, but at one point he looked at me with such pity,” Tony said, eyebrows drawing together. He studied his cookie like it was helping him remember. “I still remember his face. No one had looked at me with pity before, and he said, ‘Look at you. All this money and still you have nothing.’ And I was like, ‘excuse me? Do you know who I am?’ As you do, right, because I could have anything I wanted, I’m fucking Tony Stark. And he said, ‘Yeah, I know who you are. I’ve seen dozens of men like you. And despite all their money, all their fame, death came for all of them in the end, and they had nothing to show for it but a tacky tombstone.’” Tony bit his lip, frowning a little. “I’m sure I said something, but he just finished his drink and walked away, like I wasn’t worth his time. I wish I could say that I had this like, huge change of heart and changed my ways after that night, but it ended up being this gradual thing.”

Bucky realized he was staring. “What do you mean?” he asked, taking a bite out of the cookie he just remembered he was holding.

“Well, I looked him up later and found out he ran a free clinic downtown and on a whim I donated some money. Like, 'see what a good person I am, have some money.' Like I was proving him wrong somehow by doing that." Tony snorted and shook his head at the memory. "Anyway, doing that puts you on some kind of list somewhere, apparently, and one day I got an email about a runaway shelter. Then a food bank, then a refugee thing, and it kind of snowballed from there.”

“Wait, wait.” Bucky shook his head. “How did you go from ‘donating to a clinic’ to ‘mob boss over half of Manhattan’? That’s one hell of a snowball.”

“Well, after donating to a bunch of causes, I saw that a housing complex near all these nonprofits went up for sale, so I bought it,” he said with a shrug, fiddling with a napkin as he talked. He was already done with his cookie somehow, despite having done most of the talking.  He reached for another from the box and took a tiny bite. “I was kinda feeling like, I don’t know, tied to this area as I kept an eye on my pet projects. Then I started getting a bunch of complaints about the conditions and I was pretty fucking appalled at what I was seeing. Like, no one should live like that. It was a shame for rats to even be living there. So I fixed it up, and then I set up a trust for the building and gave it back to the tenants. All their rent goes in a fund, and they spend money on that fund to pay for what the complex needed.”

“Like a condo association?”

“More like a cooperative. They decide how much to charge everyone for rent, they decide if they want to spend money on painting the place or upgrading the light fixtures, you know, whatever. I think last time I checked they had put in a community garden. So when another came up for sale, I bought it, and then another, then I realized I might as well invest in some of the businesses here. After the fiasco of that first apartment building, I started looking at what I was spending my money on so I would know what to expect. Then when I was looking at a commercial building, people came in to shake down the owner of one of the businesses while I was there. Like, I was standing right there and those people didn’t give a shit who saw them. I was so surprised that I didn’t say anything until it was over, and then I asked the guy if that happened a lot. Can’t let that go on, you know, because...well, I mean, the owner looked so scared, and that made me mad because he's just trying to make a living, you know? Also, it cuts into the bottom line, so.” Tony shrugged again. “I put a stop to it. And then, well,” he gestured expressively around him with his cookie. “Like I said. Snowball.”

Bucky could only stare, bemused. If he had heard the same story on his first day of work, he might have been unable to keep from laughing in Stark’s face. But now…well, it was increasingly hard to square what the police knew – or thought they knew – about Tony Stark and what Bucky was seeing. “I guess no kid wants to be a criminal when they grow up,” Bucky said. “We all just kind of wander into it.”

“Yeah? Is that how you went from Bagram to Brighton Beach?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to shrug, uncomfortable. After hearing Tony's story, he didn’t want to feed him some bullshit line from his cover story. “There’s only a few career opportunities for a grunt back home,” he said vaguely. “Even fewer that pay well.”

He glanced up to see Tony studying him thoughtfully. “Do you miss it?”

“The Army? Hell no.” That part was true enough.

“How about here? Are you happy here?”

Bucky’s mouth quirked. “Are you asking me about my job satisfaction? One means not at all satisfied, ten means highly satisfied?” He had the pleasure of watching Tony almost spit out a bite of cookie as he surprised a laugh out of him.

“Sure,” Tony said after a moment when he finished chewing. "One out of ten."

“Ten,” Bucky said truthfully. “I like helping people.” He had the traitorous thought that the past few months working with KT had been closer to what he'd thought it would be like to be a cop than what it had actually turned out to be like, and felt vaguely guilty.

“Yeah, me too.” 

They sat there in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a few moments before Bucky heard the ding of a notification on his phone. He silenced it without looking – his handlers were still yelling about the Policeman’s Ball – but sighed when he saw the time. “It’s getting late,” Bucky said reluctantly, more because it seemed appropriate rather than any desire to actually leave. He opened his mouth to say, I had a great time tonight and immediately felt like an idiot because, bare feet and half-eaten box of cookies aside, this wasn't, in fact, a date.

But apparently he wasn’t the only one who had lost the plot, because Tony said, “Would you like to come up for a dr-” before he cut himself off with a look of horror that would have been funny if Bucky hadn’t, deep down, wanted so badly to say yes. “I’ll call you a cab,” he said instead, looking away to grab his phone.

“I’ll wait outside,” Bucky said, and fled.

                                                ***

Tony watched from a window as Blue Eyes' taxi drove away, then as Tony went up the elevator to his penthouse condo he texted a sad face to Rhodey.

Told you it was a bad idea, Rhodey wrote back.

Don’t say I told you so. I’m sad, Tony responded.

You’re making yourself sad pining after an undercover cop. I don’t feel bad for you.

“That’s fair,” Tony said out loud. You should. I got you cookies and you’re being mean to me. Tony texted Rhodey a picture of the half-empty box of cookies and made himself sad all over again, remembering the intensity with which Blue Eyes had stared at the display of cookies when told to pick one, like it was a pop quiz that he was determined to pass.

Go to bed, Tones.

With a sigh, Tony tossed his phone on the bed and started peeling himself out of the monkey suit, setting the cufflinks he’d been wearing on his dresser as he threw the suit and shirt on the back of a chair to be dry cleaned. The problem was that tonight, like every night for the past few years, Tony was going to bed by himself. There had been a certain point where he’d realized that he’d tipped over from bending the rules, to breaking the rules, then to breaking the rules in a way that would get him put on lists written by people with badges, and at that point he’d realized that to bring anyone into his life was to put a target on them. The only way to avoid it was to not get close to anyone, but he’d done the one-and-done lifestyle and wasn’t interested in that anymore. It had been Pepper for a  while, because she was more than capable of protecting herself, but after a year she had gently but firmly told him that it wasn’t working for her, and that had been the end of it. Since then, there had been a few people that he thought maybe, maybe this one but in the end, they didn’t feel right.

Blue Eyes felt right. He knew it was dumb and he knew what Rhodey would say – star crossed lovers only exist in fiction, Tones - but as he slid between the sheets that night, he let himself daydream about it until he fell asleep.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

all we can do

Prompt: carry/support (alt no.15)

Whumpee: Kurt Wallander

Fandom: Young Wallander

welcome back to my second fic for a fandom that barely exists! i finished the show today and i felt like we got so robbed of an ending that like. properly Dealt with the fallout of the explosion so i did this. unfortunately it’s not very good but oh well. what can you do. this is set in the night after the explosion and it could be canon compliant? the show isn’t super clear on the timing of everything so idk. whatever lol. hope you enjoy this if you read it for some reason!

Kurt is numb. His ears haven’t stopped ringing since the explosion. He’s still covered in dust and small pieces of debris. He sees the people around him cry, but finds himself incapable. He doesn’t feel anything. He’s running on autopilot.

His autopilot leads him to a bar, where he sinks down onto a stool and drinks and doesn’t even register the people around him staring and whispering. 

He drinks and drinks and he doesn’t know why. Maybe he wants the alcohol to keep him numb. Maybe he’s hoping it’ll tear down enough of his internal defenses that the pain of reality will come screaming back. 

Whatever his intentions might have been, he winds up drunk out of his mind with a bartender threatening to throw him out. He doesn’t want to leave. There are people here. If he leaves, he will be alone with himself, and he thinks that that is a remarkably bad idea at the moment.

But the bartender keeps insisting that he leave. That he’s had enough to drink. Finally, he asks if there’s someone he can call, and Kurt thinks, of course, of Reza.

His friend picks up on the first ring, asking him something like, are you all right? 

“No, I’m smashed,” Kurt says. He thinks that’s kind of funny, for reasons he can’t explain. He laughs. “I’m so fucking drunk, Rez.”

He hears Reza say something, muffled. Then he hears Jasmine’s voice reply. “Hi, Jasmine,” he calls, and the bartender snaps at him to be quieter.

“Hey, Kurt,” Jasmine says, sounding subdued. 

“Did you hear Hemberg got blown up?” he asks, because he knows she has. 

“I did,” she says, and then Reza is back speaking to him. “I’m comin’ to get you, alright?”

He nods, and then says, “yeah,” when his alcohol-soaked brain reminds him that he can’t be seen over the phone. He hangs up, and then just sits there. 

He stares at the ground, watching Gustav Munck’s car explode, hearing his own voice yell to Hemberg, over and over again, until a hand on his shoulder jolts him out of his memories.

Reza is standing there, and there’s this terrible look on his face and for a second Kurt tries to think of why, and then remembers. “It’s so sad, isn’t it,” he says. “One second, you’re there, and then...boom. Just like that, Rez. Boom.” The car explodes again. He tastes smoke. 

Reza flinches a little at Kurt’s words. “You’re drunk, Kurt,” he says. “Come with me.”

“I am drunk,” Kurt replies. “I’m drunk and I can’t feel anything, Rez. Nothing.”

“I know. Let’s get you up, yeah?”

And then Reza’s arm is under his own, and he’s being lifted to his feet. The sudden change in position makes him dizzy, and he nearly collapses, saved only by Reza’s arm around him. 

The walk out of the bar is extremely difficult. Kurt barely does any work at all, fully supported by Reza, who is half-dragging him along. All the while, Kurt is talking about Hemberg, Munck, the explosion, in a neverending circle, and all the while, the car explodes in front of him, and smoke fills his field of vision.

The car ride is silent. Kurt is staring out the window without seeing anything but flames. Reza is avoiding looking over at his best friend, hating what he knows he’ll see. Kurt’s in shock, he’d recognized that the second he’d called. Kurt can’t feel anything, and he’s too drunk to understand the words he’s saying, which are belaying how he feels under the layers of alcohol and shock. 

Reza pulls to a stop at his house and opens the passenger door, but Kurt remains in his seat. Reza can’t tell if he looks worse than he did in the bar, or if it’s just the light from the car illuminating how badly he’s looked all this time: caked in residue from the explosion, because he’d refused to go to the hospital. Pale as hell, because his boss is dead, because he hasn’t caught the man responsible. Half-asleep, because he’d decided to go get drunk instead of do something as reasonable as reach out. 

He pulls Kurt gently out of the car, hearing the other man make a faint, unconscious noise of pain, the first indication that he’s in any kind of pain at all. Reza looks him over worriedly, checking for any injury that Kurt had somehow not realized he’d gotten.

Sure enough, there’s a splotch of red slowly seeping through his shirt. “You’re bleeding, man, you know that?” Reza asks, sure that the answer will be no.

“I dunno,” says Kurt. “Don’t feel anything.”

“Can you walk?”

“I dunno,” is Kurt’s answer, again. 

“If you’re not walking, I swear I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you inside,” Reza says, intending to say it as a threat.

It’s clearly not received that way. “Okay,” Kurt says, and he makes no move to stand.

Reza sighs briefly before reaching down and picking Kurt up, trying to be mindful of whatever injury he has. He carries Kurt up to the front door, and wonders, vaguely, if he’s always been this light.

He opens the door with the hand not holding onto Kurt, then shuffles inside and into the living room, setting Kurt down on the couch carefully. 

Jasmine comes out of their room then, gasping aloud when she sees the man on her couch. “Kurt,” she says, softly, and goes to sit down next to him, putting a hand on his smudged cheek. 

“He’s been like this since...since the explosion?” she asks, turning to Reza. 

“Wouldn’t let anyone touch him,” Reza confirms. “He’s in shock, I think. Says he can’t feel anything.”

“He’s bleeding.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Kurt interrupts. “Hi, Jasmine. Good to see you.”

She gives him a sad smile. “Hi, Kurt.”

Reza comes and sits down on his other side, reaching out to remove Kurt’s jacket, and then his shirt.

“What’re you doing?” Kurt questions.

“Figuring out why you’re bleeding,” is Reza’s reply, and Kurt lapses into silence.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he repeats, after a moment of Reza poking around a thankfully-not-too-deep shrapnel wound. “It doesn’t hurt, Reza, why doesn’t it hurt?”

Reza stops what he’s doing and looks into Kurt’s face, seeing emotion there for the first time. His eyes are wet with as-yet-unshed tears, and although his statements are to the contrary, he looks so incredibly pained. 

“It doesn’t hurt because you’re in shock,” Reza explains gently, as Jasmine takes over tending to his wound. Kurt looks at the floor. The car has stopped exploding, but still, all he can smell is smoke. 

“Can you make it stop?” he asks, not really sure what it is he’s referring to. 

“You’ll come out of it on your own,” Reza says, wishing he could say something more comforting. “Dunno if you’ll feel better when you do.”

Jasmine finishes bandaging his wound, and for a moment the three of them just sit there, Reza’s hand on Kurt’s back, Jasmine’s hand in his hair. 

“Would you mind if we cleaned you up?” Jasmine asks, pulling a piece of something out of Kurt’s hair. 

Kurt shrugs. He doesn’t care. He pokes at the newly-bandaged gash in his stomach, wishing that he could feel it. Reza’s hand pulls him away from that particular task, and he feels Jasmine stand up on his other side. 

She returns after a second, and then there’s a warm washcloth rubbing gently against his face and another one dragging across his torso. Slowly, they begin to take away the smell of smoke that’s been following him all day, and by the time they’ve finished, he feels different.

Less drunk, for one. Cleaner, for another. But the most notable change is the sudden stab of pain in his stomach. 

“I can feel it now,” he says, feeling his voice shake. “Oh god, I feel it,” he says, and then it’s not his voice shaking but his body, and he’s crying and whimpering and in a matter of seconds his world has gone from cold and numb to brutally hot and painful, and then he’s crying so hard that he stops making any noise at all, and all the while he feels hands on him, gentle and warm, rubbing his shoulders and touching his face. 

At some point, the pain reaches a crescendo, and Kurt almost pitches over from the force of the emotions that are pouring out of him unhindered. Before he can, though, an arm extends across his chest and another one grips his shoulders, both of them supporting him, keeping him upright.  

Reza and Jasmine hold onto Kurt as he breaks completely, and they keep holding on when he finally cries himself to sleep. They share a look over his head. 

“Poor guy,” is Reza’s only observation regarding Kurt. “What a way to go…” he adds, shaking his head. He can’t believe any of this. That Hemberg is really dead. That Kurt watched him die. That his killer is most likely never going to be brought to justice. 

“I can’t imagine,” Jasmine says. “And Kurt being there…” she trails off, reaching out to grab Reza’s hand. “How do we all get through this?”

“I don’t know,” Reza confesses. “We just have to be there, I think. Like you two were for me. It’s all we can do, really.”

Between them, Kurt makes a soft noise in his sleep, wrinkling up his face. Jasmine returns a gentle hand to his hair, in an effort to calm him down without waking him. Reza places a hand on his chest, feeling Kurt’s heart beat just slightly too fast.

“I’m so sorry, man,” he says quietly, and feels Jasmine lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

i’m very sorry if my depictions of shock were not accurate i did not feel like being accurate lol. anyway this ending sucks butt and tbh the whole story kinda does too...but whatever hope you enjoyed anyway? not that anyone is gonna read this lmao. 

[secretaryunpaid]

✨Fanfic Sunday Funday✨

Fun, fun, fun! Thanks for tagging me @txemrn  and @pixie88 for this challenge.

Week 1: Share the most memorable piece of dialogue you’ve ever written!   My most memorable piece of dialogue has to be my first ever post to Tumblr... I was so new to writing... not that I’m not now... Just fresh out of the gate at that time.

Here’s my first TNA fanfic ever!

When We Touch...

When we touch …

Characters : property of Pixelberry (Choices - The Nanny Affair) I do not own the characters depicted. I am borrowing for the sake of entertainment. TY PB!

Originally posted by prophets-of-prog

⚠️ WARNING !!! : Explicit !!!!!!!!! Readers BEWARE … Very mature sexual content and strong language GUARANTEED 🥵

Word Count: 1,330 approx

Characters/Pairing:

MC: Dahlia Schuyler (you) paired with Male LI Samuel Dalton

Carter - Driver

Mason & Mickey Dalton - Twins of Samuel Dalton

Sofia Russo - Russo Enterprises, former lover/fiancé of Samuel Dalton

Summary: Sam has left Sofia at the altar publicly and is now vacationing with Dahlia, twins and Carter in Naples.

A/N : I enjoyed writing this, and hope you all enjoy it as much. Break out your favorite bottle of wine/liquor and prepare to drip… set your mood with that special Baby Maker music… Comments welcome! Let’s go!

News Headlines:

“Biotech Mogul leaves Business Princess at the Altar!” “Dalton-Russo Stocks Plummet After Public breakup!” Sam Dalton: Coward or Romantic? The Real Reason He Left on the Big Day!”…

Working on a plan to reduce fallout over calling off the wedding so publicly, a furrow lines Sam’s brow in determination to prove his sincerity to you …planning a life with you is not some fleeting decision made out of fear. The thought of you not existing, or being within reach, has rekindled the protective fire within Sam… he is as focused and commanding as you witnessed in the boardroom at Dalton Enterprises. You can’t stop reliving the moment that changed your life —the moment Sam and the twins convinced you not to take your flight, and whisked you off to Naples.

You sit next to him in your lingerie, bouts of heat and moisture rushing through your center as your desire overtakes you. “Sam”… but he doesn’t reply, transfixed on setting this right immediately…silently anguishing over the fact that it has come this far…almost solidifying you leaving without any form of contact… Sam’s breath catches suddenly, as a sharp pain jolts through his heart. Tears threaten to pour over his gorgeously thick lashes as he squints, shaking his head briskly as if to expel the intrusive memory that had been locked away for the past five years now. He had already lost his true love … he would not lose the love of his life after having convinced her to accept him and the twins for a lifetime.

You grow deeply concerned, but don’t want to cause Sam to become withdrawn, so you choose to be coy instead. “Sam, I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.“ …”Hmmph?” is the questioning reply Sam gives to your taunting… “One sec, babe. I really need to get this done. I don’t trust anyone else to handle this. It’s too sensitive.”

Your impatience won’t allow you to ignore the fire that has ignited within you. Thinking of Sam’s drive is giving you drive of your own. Memories of your first night together as an official couple flash in your mind. Remembering  how he drove himself deep within you, throbbing with release. {I need that pulse again!} You decide to lay on the floor at a distance that gives a silhouette of your movements over the display of Sam’s laptop (that has taken top priority over you). You begin to slowly wiggle your g-string down with your feet and spread apart … “Hurry love, I’m starting without you …” you moan seductively. Your fingers slowly snake their way down to take a sample of your juices. “…you promised to always take care of me …nnnh… WHEN-EVER I nee-ded you…but if pleasing me doesn’t fall in that , nnnh…ooooh…” (your eyes flutter as you pleasure yourself, speechlessly counting down the seconds until …)

Sam has moved towards you so swiftly that you didn’t realize he had even moved. “Damn, Dahlia” is all you hear as you feel Sam’s oral erection dive into your overflowing center. “Damn you taste good.” His craving ignites, and he pins your hands underneath you. Be a good girl and keep those there…and remember … YOU asked for this”… He lies between your legs, wrapping his muscular arms underneath your thighs. With a sudden jerk of his hands, he quickly pulls you to him. You gasp at the vibrating ripple stemming from your clit to the tip of his tongue, which is suctioned to your trembling walls, as Sam hums at the taste of you. “Mmmmm!”His tongue lunges deep into you…the firmness of his nose pressing stimulating circles against your nub as he works you skillfully… you suck in a sharp breath…moans escaping your lips as you bite them to fight off a pleasurable scream…

“Lemme hear how good this feels to you” … Sam’s husky words reach you between your labored breaths…”Damn you’re so hot and wet for me”…  the intensity of his deep slow strokes rotated with quick flicks of your clit with the tip of his tongue sends your pleasure flooding through… “that’s it, cum for me!” Those words send a thrill that causes you to buck in rhythm with Sam…you need to touch him… Quickly removing your hands from underneath you, you dig your nails into his shoulder gently at first, but piercingly as you begin to climax.

Sensing your release, Sam drinks all that your body offers…his hands gripping your ass firmly, preventing any resistance of pleasure. He grins up at you knowingly, then releases you to quickly remove his clothing. “How do you want me, Dahlia? It’s yours to command.” You give him a naughty smirk and roll on your left side. You then use your right arm to suspend your right leg in the air. “Oh, you want thrust action. I’ve got you, Dahlia. Hold tight.”

Sam eases towards you, stroking his full length with precision. Giving it the needed shake to rush the blood flow… to give you exactly what you begged for…ALL OF HIM…he lightly taps the head against your clit, reminding you of the weighted pleasure you are about to receive. He leans across you, kissing you soft and passionately as he eases into you. Succumbing to his own excitement, he gives a trembling thrust until your bases connect. He hesitates as he takes in your heat…pulsating within you. You gently claw his sides until you take hold of his flexed ass urging him to move within you. He begins to slowly withdraw letting you wet every inch of him, then winds forward with a rush that says he doesn’t want this feeling to end. Stroke after stroke pushes you higher and higher, causing you to whisper the command…”Fuck me Sam…”, moaning “… ooooooh, yes baby! Harder!” Complying, Sam leans back steadying your leg on his shoulder and placing your hand on his chest. He thrusts your depths until a river flows over him as you cry out his name. “Sam!” You feel his heated flow rush through you as he breathes out your name intensely…”Dahlia…” His shaft still pulsates inside you calming from his release…Sam lowers himself onto you holding back his full weight. He gives you a lingering kiss while rolling over with you lying on top of his chest.

He runs his fingers ever so slowly through your hair, soothing you. “Did you get what you needed?” You smile against his chest,and teasingly say, “you know I do every time.” You playfully grasp his taut nipple between your teeth, giving it a gentle tug. “Okay, baby. A little while longer lying like this, then I have to get back to putting out the other fires brewing.” Sighing, you roll off Sam. “Yes, Mr. Dalton. I understand. But, ummm, ink me in for a lunch session.”   Sam laughs, calling you insatiable, but he clears his calendar for your lunch date.

Sam opens his laptop, and an email immediately comes in marked high priority from none other than Sofia Russo… Sam’s eyes grow dark as he informs you of the content.

[peepingtoad]

OKAY SO. 

It’s not that often that I talk about what I really think about Jiraiya, and I guess I mean more how I feel about him, since I always try to write my ‘deeper’ headcanons/metas from a more... idk, trying not to get too emotional about it point of view. Basically it’s because I know how controversial he is, and I pretty much ritually avoid a lot of takes because I don’t want to get irritated about something that really doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme, because we’re all entitled to our opinions and I largely get my say through the act of writing and developing him how I see fit.

Which is enough for me, mostly, but for the purpose of reinforcing/building upon how I see my muse’s plight, working through some of my Sannin-feels and also to dip my toes into why I find blindly judgemental/single-faceted takes of him, his priorities and the Sannin’s bond so exasperating, I kinda feel like rambling my thoughts (feelings) anyway! 

Politely sticks this stream-of-consciousness mess under a cut.

So sometimes I do think about the fact that Jiraiya kinda, lmao, forgot about Everything Else in the world because of Orochimaru and his (frankly) obsession with him/them. And the fact that a ridiculously significant portion of bad shit that happened is down to his actions/inaction. And the fact that he really did go and leave the likes of Naruto (and maybe to a degree Kakashi, although there’s zero actual evidence he didn’t get involved given the strong indications of a great rapport in the canon), just because he was so hellbent on pursuing Orochimaru, who was not even shown to be affectionate towards him at the best of times. When I think about it in terms of Jiraiya being gone and the main reason we’re given for it, things suck for a number of people, and quite largely because of potentially unrequited/horribly communicated/obsessive JiraOro pursuits, in essence :’)

(And for all it’s still quite the rarepair, Jiraiya does express on accounts that he was destroyed when Oro left. I mean... this is the guy who rarely acknowledges his sadness so... It’s not my bias at all I sware)

Of course JiraTsu is very real in my eyes too, albeit a very different kinda tragic, as is OroTsu. And the messy poly ship? Ohohoho, even better, but... yeah. Tsunade does at least go her own way for a long time, as messed up as that is in itself, for reasons including the fact she seems to pointedly not heal or move on from her grief. And given the absolute debacle that was her and Jiraiya reuniting... and both her and Oro even discussing a possibility of sacrificing him... and just, them in general for that whole arc :’))) yeah. They are without a doubt messy and troubled, but even despite how fraught things become I genuinely think all the furtive expressions and the undercurrents of longing and the evasion of their past exhibits a history much deeper and full of lost love compared to many other team dynamics we get (otherwise the Three Way Divorce wouldn’t have been quite so horrible on them, would it? That and they’d probably have split up after Team Hiruzen was no more, if they really hated each other/just tolerated each other out of familiarity like I sometimes see speculated).

But yeah, back to our main man. Jiraiya’s intense (and frankly very Scorpio of him) love for our first series Big Bad kinda did ruin him and what he was setting out to do in some ways, to the degree that the actual story of Naruto wouldn’t be very much without him in terms of drama. I mean, he always loved a good story, right? So art imitates life, and innit just pathetic poetic.

And in so many ways it is incredibly tragic and pitiable that he’s Just Like That. Idealistic and warping everything terrible, no matter how bad, into adventure in his mind! As growth! As pain that makes you TOUGH and makes you a stronger man! As something to be pushed aside while you just keep on truckin’! Whatever anyone you love throws at you, it’s Totally Fine!

After so long narrating through his personal lens, I’ve come to realise he truly is so convinced that everything bad that happens, is sort of just... something he has to deal with and feel big and guilty and feelsy for while spinning it in ways that enable him to keep going. He just loads it on himself and sorta holds it. The fact he’s so sad and filled with sickly pining grief that he has to try and exorcise it with impulsive bouts of decadence? Fine. And it’s not abnormal at all, how he approaches things with such broad scope and just kinda... thoughtlessly wrecking-balls his way through everything he thinks is a great idea at the time. He experiences the fallout of these things and simultaneously feels the entire ravages of it acutely while compartmentalising it ever so neatly away. The crazy thing, too, is that he’s exceptionally convincing at making everything he does and how he handles things seem so grand and noble and romantic and tragic... but in a humorously self-deprecating and still ultimately very hopeful way, to the degree that I as a mun get caught up in his relentless optimism and forget he actually is a sad and heartbroken guy wrapped up in all this grandiosity.

Sometimes I do step back and look and I just think yeah, fuck, he really is a total disaster! He’s a walking disaster and he’s been so damaging to himself and others in so many ways, all because of acting on emotions and impulses without really thinking about the impact! He really did kinda give up on those who needed him and for what? A love that will never love him or prioritise him back? 

A wonderfully tragic theme that I do love with him, don’t get me wrong.

But then at the same time, there’s always more nuance to be had than just ‘he is a disaster and made bad choices, as tragic and romantic as it is, he was actually just selfish and kinda sucked in the end, pathetically whipped by his friends and unable to let go of what they had’. There’s more nuance to be had than reducing him to a purely romantically-inclined character, who just snubs everyone else for a doomed love... because in the end, I think a huge part of JiraOro’s demise in particular was that Oro felt immensely snubbed by Jiraiya when he stayed in Ame, when his loyalty to Konoha (as a place and people, not necessarily a system) and of course loyalty to his own ideals was prioritised over Oro.

To an extent, I feel like Tsunade could have been a similar case, were she not preoccupied with already having lost so much, and besides I really do think she and Jiraiya were quite firmly in best friend zone at that point. With Tsunade not being able to get comfortable around Jiraiya or to pursue any underlying affection for him because of the dumbass way he always behaved (understandably of her tbh), probably until she got with Dan, by which point I reckon Jiraiya started to really come through by showing how he valued her for her, where we see by them having each other’s backs so closely in the second war. Not to mention him generally respecting that his feelings for her have no place by the time he gets her back to Konoha.

In terms of that first split in Ame, Jiraiya, I feel, simply didn’t think him leaving was going to be a big deal, because the three were always fiercely headstrong people who had their own shit going on (simultaneously independent while also being, perhaps not to their knowledge, So Very Codependent). Not only that, but his overly affectionate ways and incessant jolliness were probably considered such a joke that he was basically like ‘they’ll be fine without me’. I certainly don’t think he felt needed by them, which I don’t think is their fault or a point of angst and ‘waaah poor blameless Jiraiya’, because quite honestly, the strain on their relationship was something I fully believe even he didn’t realise he needed out of at the time. His one-track mind was just on ‘save kids, teach kids, this is right, must seize opportunity to be the change I was told I’d be, not continue with this godforsaken war’

Selfish? Maybe. Well-intentioned? Certainly. Intended to hurt anyone or imply he stopped caring? No.

In essence, when it comes to why in the end Jiraiya seemed to be so horrendously bad at being around at the worst of times, at being responsible, whatever else (and I’m not even going to go into scenes intended to be comedic because, they are comedic)... I’ve got to look at it from more than just one view. It’s easy to say ‘he’s ridiculous and terrible because he pretty much flaked on what was important based on his whims/a doomed love/his dick’ (which I have seen said lmao) but there are so many other things at play here.

So I’m thinking, while he was shirking duties (godfatherly mainly)... did he actually consider that his most important duty? Was it anyone’s place to tell him it was? Minato didn’t, as I recall, and when he sacrificed himself he specifically left it to the Third because he (presumably) respected what his teacher was about and knew he wasn’t for staying put. Did Jiraiya not consider his primary duty to be to the prophecy, and in a more general sense fixing the big wrongs and trying to foil big dangers to his home? Were these things not pretty much what he existed for (as much as his faith wavered and went off the rails at times)? Was that not the main source of any real purpose he ever had, being a kid who showed practically no ambition before? Did he not pretty much redesign himself as being ‘from Mt. Myōboku’ rather than Konoha after two devastating wars, and thus is it not understandable for him not to focus solely on Konoha—not outright destroying it, still ultimately loyal to his home and not about to let anyone destroy it, but seeing that the world is in fact so much bigger than just his little town? Is that really something that’s so bad and wrong of him, in a story where the main cast’s country has a pretty fucking nasty system and is established to do so very early on? Is he not pretty revolutionary in his own brand of not blindly serving, but not going on a destroy-it-all frenzy either?

Also, was he not the only one who actually bothered to investigate Akatsuki and the forces that would see Naruto dead, in time? For all he did help bring Akatsuki into existence in ways, it was inevitable from before he even met the orphans that they were going to be groomed/moulded into what they became, regardless of whether Jiraiya came onto the scene. Jiraiya leaving them was just a different kind of suffering to what they were inevitably going to suffer anyway, and hell, with his influence at least there was a time where they might’ve stood a chance of going totally against Madara/Obito’s path, especially while Yahiko was still around. Jiraiya didn’t know that the whole thing with the Ame orphans was, by a design out of his control, doomed to end horribly. So while he felt personally responsible not knowing this, and it’s taken as a given that he was... actually, was he, when there was a master manipulator at play? Was it wrong to want to give some kids a chance?

With regards to all those things I see people say he should have stayed and fixed, that he should have been there, he should have done x y z... Is it not the responsibility of everyone not satisfied with their lot to step up to the plate and make where they live better? Jiraiya wasn’t the only adult. Tsunade, and I absolutely love her, does seem overwhelmingly to be absolved of leaving Konoha because... ??? Kicker is that she too is related to Naruto, of course. 

So... was she not also needed for the very material ways she could’ve helped at numerous points? Was she not also placing her grief and lost love before everything else? Are some reasons inherently more ok than others to ditch? As Kakashi’s generation grew up, was it not also then up to them to decide whether they’d change the status quo? Were Minato’s own generation, presumably his own peer group, not complicit in Naruto’s ostracisation? We got a slight taste of rebellion with Asuma, Hiruzen’s own son, but the fact is many Konoha-nin were overwhelmingly complacent with how things were. And yet never get demonised at all for it. Because it’s Jiraiya’s fault for... not staying and giving it all up to be a guardian who could well be depressed and unfit to raise a child... or just being a flaky as hell one that’s never there anyway because he has shit to do? (and in doing the former would let too many things go unchecked by a completely tuned-out Hokage, not gathering all that spicy useful intel, y’know... essentially he wouldn’t have ended up largely doing his job along with the personal shit in between).

Basically when I see claims saying that Jiraiya as an individual should have done pretty much everything better, and somehow been there for everyone that needed him at any given time, and that (mostly Naruto’s) suffering was a failing on Just His part because of his selfish whims... I feel like the point of his tragedy is absolutely missed. That tragedy being that barrelling through things alone is definitely a failing and harmful in numerous ways, as we see with Itachi shouldering everything alone too, and we see them both miss out on Naruto and Sasuke as a result... but at the same time, is just settling down and leaving everything else to chance not also a huge failing, when there are so many other circumstances and enemies acting against you, when you do have the power to change tides, and when so many other people refuse to or can’t seize their own agency? Jiraiya does put his faith in a lot of people too, and a lot of people fail. Don’t fail him, but in a general sense many, like Minato, fail to make the change they wanted to. That’s life in this world, it’s tragic, and after losing a lot of loved ones yeah, he retreats and goes at it alone. 

But how can he win? How does he do what’s right, other than by chasing what he thinks he can do to actually help the world, which happens to be bigger and not centred on individuals, even those he cares about?

(and remember, nobody knows Naruto is special-reincarnation-prophecy-boi, which is why I tend not to blame-game any characters for him being treated like so many orphans were because... while it’s not morally right or nice at all, it’s tone deaf to how the world is, to the fact all characters having different degrees of knowledge and priorities, and it’s insensitive of the fact most the characters had their own struggles and were just doing their best with a bad lot gdi). 

Hell though, Jiraiya even does put Oro, his big obsessive wild goose chase that whisks him away into selfish pining hopelessly devoted land, on the back burner at points. Maybe not in a lasting way, particularly by the last databook where he’s inspired anew by Naruto, but he does prioritise other shit on numerous occasions. And there’s a lot of shit to try and prioritise.

What I’m trying to say is, Jiraiya can’t solely be held responsible for people. Sure, he’s a character whose decisions were pivotal to events, but what of every other character in the story? Why are they not held to the same crazy high standard of doing and protecting and preventing and somehow doing everything ‘right’ that would have also meant him fitting neatly into the Konoha mould? Would other characters really have been that much better in the position of The Big Guide/Martyr/Tragic Hero/Force For Change character? And also is having a tragic Chaotic Good bastard of a hero not a sign of a damn good and interesting character, that at the very least tried where so many others didn’t? Would Naruto not have been a boring as hell story, whose main protag didn’t really have much conflict to make him compelling, without Jiraiya (among others) being a mess with the best intentions? Without so many other characters having failed him, for him to overcome it and still be able to love and inspire change (albeit through sometimes-clumsy talk-no-jutsu)? Was I missing the point of the story?

............. Hmm!

No longer sure where else I’m going with this now, so.... here, I guess, ends my ode to why character hate (especially that reduces them to One Thing) is dumb, why demonising truly well-meaning characters doesn’t feel particularly woke to me in a cast full of flawed characters and horrible circumstance, and why I’ll defend this poor bastard with far too damn much hinging on him to the end I guess :’)

TL;DR HE’S A DUMBASS AND HE TRIED, OKAY?!

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - TWO

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 2.240

Warnings: Death. Cursing. Family removal. Fight. Family reunion of some sort.

Author’s note: Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @littlefreya​ @katerka88​ @hell1129-blog​ @radaofrivia��� @mis-lil-red @omgkatinka​ @gothwhopper​​

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated. Seriously, please tell me all the good and bad stuff, else I won’t be able to develop into a better writer, if I don’t know what I’m doing right and wrong. I swear I don’t bite.

[ONE] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE] [TEN]

William and Jennifer Thompson had everything they ever wanted. A nice home they couldn’t wait to fill up with children. Their lives were turned upside down when Jennifer became pregnant with triplets. William had nearly fainted at the scan. Triplets conceived naturally were a rare thing.

The couple was ecstatic to meet their children. They both had lost their parents, and with no siblings on either side, they had the need to have a large family. They prepared for the triplets as much as they could. Bought a bigger car, three car seats, three cribs, triple the amount of clothes and diapers.

“I hope you will all be like your mother,” William whispered to the grown belly, while Jennifer was asleep on her side. “She is the gentlest woman I know. She will carry you for as long as she can, even though her body is hurting. She will be your rock, your nurse, your teacher, but most of all she will be the very first woman you love. She will help you play pranks on me. She will cook your favourite foods. She will make birthday cakes the way you want them. She will drive you to practice. She will practice with you, even if you choose three different hobbies. She will help you with your homework, even reading ahead, so she knows what will happen next. She will love you more than anything. Try not to make her cry or angry, trust me you really don’t want that. Being on her bad side is the worst place to be.”

William kissed the skin where a foot was kicking her belly from the inside. He chuckled.

“Be nice son.” He whispered. He felt his wife’s hands caressing his scalp.

“Talking to the boys again?” She asked with a yawn.

“I have to show them who is the boss. If they have just a little bit of my temper, they’ll be quite a handful.”

“They are already a handful. They keep kicking or sitting on my bladder.” Jennifer whimpered. “Help me up please, I need to go to the bathroom.”

William smiled as he pulled his very pregnant wife up from their bed. Their black lab, Shell, jumped up from his bed and walked with her. At 33 weeks pregnant everything hurt. Her feet, her back, just everything. She was so over being pregnant with three boys. Good thing they were being born two weeks later by c-section.

All three boys were born healthy. They were all much bigger than other babies being born at 35 weeks, perhaps because Jennifer had literally eaten for four people since she found out she was expecting three babies at once.

Trevor, James, and Oliver grew up to be robust young boys. At the age of five, they were already known as ‘the three terrors’ in their neighbourhood. Trevor was the adventurous child, he would climb trees, and the moment he started walking, he had walked right over to William’s rock music collection and gotten into his LP’s. James loved solving puzzles rather than playing in the sandbox outside, and he loved watching TV-shows like ‘Columbo’ and ‘Magnum P.I.’. Oliver was the quiet one, he was always up to no good and got his brothers in trouble for something he had done, and he would always fight with James over the remote if an action movie was on.

The boys had a good childhood, until that fateful day where their lives changed forever.

William and Jennifer had been on a date when they were hit by a drunk truck driver. Both parents died on the spot. The boys were divided into three different families, who would take care of them.

Trevor was sent to a family in Georgia, who already had a son a year younger. Trevor would grow up to be a strong-willed man, whose protective instincts always kicked in gear when he saw someone being bullied or hurt.

James moved to Minnesota to a family, who had a son who was three years older. James grew up to be independent. He took no bullshit from anyone, not even his daughter that he would have later in life.

Oliver travelled to Virginia, where the family who later adopted him, had a young daughter. They didn’t love Oliver the way he should have been loved, like how his brother’s new families loved the brothers. Oliver was yelled at often, which hardened his heart. He swore that he would make the world a better place. The only good thing about his upbringing was the young sister, who would be the light of his life. She would make him smile and he would, in turn, protect her. His heart shattered the day she died while he was in college.

The three brothers forgot each other. Forgot they ever were as one unit once. Forgot that they had parents who had loved them more than anything. But each one always had a piece of home with them. A little medallion with an engraving of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, protector of those who have lost their parents. A social worker had given each of the boys the medallion with their birth names, parents names and birthplace etched on the back so that they would never forget who they were.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Lucas pummelled the stranger to the ground. He looked just like him, except he had hair, curly and long at the top, shorter on the sides and back, and he had a fucking disgusting moustache. Who the fuck had moustaches anymore?

Before Lucas could grab the intruder by the collar, he was kicked in the shin and was hitting the ground, hard. The intruder scrambled to his feet and was out of sight within seconds. Lucas ran after him.

“Captain! What is going on?” A few soldiers asked him as he ran past them.

“Invader. How the hell did he get in?” Lucas barked at the privates. Nobody knew. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a glimpse of a white shirt, the stranger had worn, disappear into another building. He stealthily moved towards the building, drawing his gun and went in. He was sitting on a chair, a rifle in his hand, a dead soldier at his feet with a broken neck.

“I know you’re there, captain. I think we need to talk,” the stranger said. “Drop your gun, and I’ll let down the rifle. Truce for now.”

Lucas was sceptical, but he went inside and put the gun back into the holster at his hip.

“Who are you?” Lucas asked.

“I have many names, which one do you want to know?” The trespasser smirked.

“The one given at birth will suffice,” Lucas grunted back, which made the smile disappear from the stranger’s face. He went to grab something at his neck. A medallion with a woman engraved on it. Lucas gasped. He had seen everything, gruesome things, death, destruction, nothing was supposed to surprise him anymore. Yet there he was. Looking at a man that could be his twin, and who had a medallion identical to the one Lucas had hidden under his T-shirt.

“My parents named me, Oliver Thompson,” the stranger grunted out. “Your turn.”

“I was named Trevor Thompson,” Lucas equally mumbled and showed his medallion.

“No.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no’?”

“We can’t be related. I don’t have a family.”

“Well, sucks to be you. Seems we’re brothers. Now tell me, what are you doing at my base?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Stealing weapons.”

“Why?”

“That, brother, is a secret.”

Lucas acted fast. He kicked the rifle out of the thief’s hands and shoved him off the chair. It earned him a fist on his left cheek, but he had tried worse. Two more punches to his torso, to him it was more like tickling. Lucas blocked a few more attacks before the stranger rammed into his crotch area that made Lucas fall to his knees. The burglar moved towards the door, but Lucas grabbed his legs that made him fall. Lucas dragged him away from the open door. The criminal was looking around for a weapon and grabbed the wooden chair. He swung it at Lucas’ head. He got lightheaded for a moment, almost seeing stars, but gained his senses in time to watch the intruder run for his life. They continued the brawl outside next to a few military vehicles. The stranger got the upper hand as he jumped on top of a tank and pummelled Lucas from above. He wrung Lucas’ right arm behind his back, shoving him to the side of a jeep and with a strong move managed to break the arm and dislocated the joint. Lucas grunted in pain, but he had to keep fighting, so he turned around and tried to hit the thief with his left hook. Again, the stranger was behind him, putting him in a headlock, blocking his airway. Soon everything went black.

Lucas awoke in the hospital, groggy from the pain meds, he tried to get out of bed. The nurses had to call security to force him back into bed. The doctor gave him a shot of a sedative to keep him calm. Sleep came to him and with that, dreams. He dreamt of two young boys, who looked identical to each other. He dreamt of a woman, who had a warm embrace, whose laughter was making him laugh in his dream. He dreamt of climbing a tree into a treehouse, where he had a small radio that was playing Iron Maiden.

“How have the three terrors been doing today?” He remembered a male voice saying.

“It has been a quiet day.” The woman in his dream said. She stood from the sandbox, where the two other boys were playing, and kissed the man. He had the same defined jawline as Lucas, the dimple in his chin, the dark curly hair, but he had brown eyes. The woman turned around to watch him in the treehouse. Her blue eyes were filled with love and the smile on her lips made his heart ache.

Lucas opened his eyes. He had just dreamt of his birth parents. He remembered having two brothers, they were triplets. He ran his left hand over his face and groaned in frustration. He felt for his medallion and pulled it out from under his shirt.

“Trevor Thompson

Son of William and Jennifer Thompson

Born in California”

“Nurse!” He boomed. A petite elderly nurse walked in with a stern look. “I need a phone.”

“Listen here, captain. You’re not going to be calling anyone until you’ve healed that arm. Go back to sleep, or I swear I keep you sedated until you learn some manners,” she told him and was about to walk out when he apologized.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. That wasn’t very kind of me to forget to ask instead of demanding it. May I please have a phone?”

“So, there is a little southern gentleman in you. What’d you need a phone for?” She asked curiously.

“Need to make a call to my ma.”

“Aren’t you a good son. Don’t move.”

A moment later she walked in with a mobile phone. He quickly punched in his mother’s number. He looked at the clock on the wall, hoping she was awake already.

“Silvia speaking,” her grumpy morning voice made him smile. She couldn’t function properly without having downed a pot of coffee. That’s where he got his coffee addiction.

“Ma?” He said with a grin.

“Lucas? Lucas! How are you? Why are you calling this early? Going to battle? Don’t think you’ll come back? What the hell is going on Lucas Philip Syverson?!”

He laughed at her nervous rambling. So, making her nervous was waking her up better than coffee. Noted.

“No, ma. I’m not going on a mission. I’m in the hospital…” he started but was interrupted.

“In the hospital?! Why the fuck are you calling from the hospital? Why haven’t your superiors called the moment you were admitted?”

“Ma! Slow down. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re in the hospital! Lucas, what is going on?”

“Ma, I need to ask you something first.”

“What?” He could hear the annoyance radiating through the phone, which made his heart filled with happiness, as it indicated that his adoptive mother was still in good health.

“When you adopted me, did they tell you that I had two brothers?”

Silence.

“Lucas��”

“Ma, did you know?”

He heard her take a deep breath.

“Yes. I did know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I have brothers?”

“Lucas, when we brought you into our home, we signed a piece of paper, saying that we wouldn’t try to contact the other families, or try to find your brothers because you boys had been traumatized by the loss of your birth parents,” she took another deep breath and continued: “We were told, your father and I, that you boys hadn’t spoken for days. When you came to us, you were so timid. You were harder to open up than an oyster. But with a little time and love, you started talking again. You started smiling and laughing, and you never talked about your brothers, so we thought it was for the best. I never meant to hide the facts from you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Ma?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“I met one of my brothers. And I think he’s in trouble.”

[popculturebuffet]

Toons for Our Times: Star Vs: Demoncism

Halloween Havoc BEGINS! And with Tomtober this same month, i’m taking another of my on and off looks at Tom! Tom tries to tackle his literla nd figurative  personal demons the natural way: by having a creepy anti-demon cult that’s never explained suck them out of his body. For some reason Star has a problem with this. We also get Ponyhead in a robe, the wonders of reflectcor and free toys from the toychest for being such a good boy. Face your demons under the cut. 

Welcome boys, ghouls and that bootiful technicolor rainbow inbetween, to halloween havoc! MUAHAHHAHA.  You might be wondering a few things. What the hell that is, isn’t that also the title of a bunch of old wcw pay per views, and have I gone insane. In order it’s usually my catchy term the past two years and this current one for my binging of halloween films and logging and reviewing them on my leterboxd account, but I decided to expand it to here since while it’s not my first halloween on here it’s the first both reviewing animation and planning ahead, I decided why not reuse a good title here.  As for the wcw thing.. well yeah. It’s a great title, neither WWE, who I think still owns the copyright, nor WCW”s Heir Apparent AEW are using it right now despite being one of the best recurring Pay-Per-View titles either promotions had. Maybe not in actualy MATCH QUALITy but that name.. it just sings to me so i’m using it for my weird blog. I’m not making any money of this so why not. And as for my sanity that left a long time ago. So prepare for a month of ghouls, ghosts, goblins, lichs, scooby doo parodies, long forgotten characters, and some suprises and pies of all sizes. THIS... IS....

So to start us off, every year my pal @jess-the-vampire​ does a monthly event known as tomtober, a celebration of all things tom lucitor. And since I started hte tomtropsective for that and still am behind, I figured why not celebrate that, and the fact I can’t draw so I can’t do day 1 as a chat or anything, by continuing the tale of everyone’s faviorite teen demon.  Thankfully unlike last time, or next time wink wonk, there’s not a TON of other plot stuff to fill in. There is one important bit not to this episode but to the series as a whole: Eclipsa is here, since Moon trying to screw her out of the deal she made backried once toffee actually died... as did you know keepiung him alive instead of dealing with eclipsa being free and having the comissoin to back her on it. Nice job moon. Real nice. So yeah Eclipsa’s around.. dosen’t effect this episode but given tom’s involved in two of the biggest plot important episodes in the show, AND one deals with the direct fallout of one of those episodes i’m probably going to have to cover her soon to get to more tom anyway so might as well prepare for that now. 

So yeah this episode’s entreily a straight line from last time and opens picking up on the end of that episode: Star is calling tom wondering when their gonna get that Cornshake. Thankfully she gets an answer. Unthankfully.. it’s from a VERY sweaty ponyhead. 

So that was my own personal hell. Anyways she’s so.. sweaty.. GAHHHHHHH, because she’s keeping a secret and much like me she can’t keep her mouth shut about something she wants to talk about for very long, so we find out what she knows: SHe ran into tom who swore her not to tell Star he was getting a Demoncisim. Which suprises me.. not the demoncism thing the fact Pony would actually listen to anyone else.. Star included. LIke it’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t quite fit: She’s such a selfish, toxic asshole, though Jenny Slate bless her makes her at least entertaining at times but even she has limits, it just dosen’t track she’d care what Tom thought unless we saw it for ourselves. Pony is ONLY capable of carring about star so while I could see tom framing it as for her own good, it’d be nice if the episode just came out and said that. It’d also be nice if we didn’t get sweaty ponyhead because that’s probably someone’s fetish and I.. OH GOD. 

Okay now i’ve mentally snapped from that revelation, Star lasso’s pony when she tries to escape, and we find out the demoncism is pretty self explanatory: A cermony that removes demons from one’s body.. and given tom is you know, a demon, this could end bad. So with no idea where it’s being held and it going on now, giving them little if any time to figure it out, Star suggests going to pony’s ex.. she dosen’t remember which one and apologizes for how bitchy that sounded, but we find out it’s Seahorse, Pony’s love intrest for the rest of the series and a hardcore emo rocker who even made her a song.. which is just him destroying everything and screaming. Eh i’ve seen people in emowear do far dumber. 

If those are m and m’s their pretzel. Trust me I’m a professional lardass, I know my delcious candy coated choclates. Anyways our dynamic-ish duo head to Seahorse at his job at a relfectcor store, basically a phone store, and is basically a hollowed out shell of a human being with no real personality or free will of his own.. so THAT’S how we got Ted Cruz. Ponyhead natrually breaks down when he dosen’t recognize her at all, which is one of the few time’s i’ve actually cared about her feelings: I mean having your ex just.. forget you exist.. tha’ts rough buddy. I feel bad for her.. I didn’t know she had emotions. I thought her heart and brain were both a black hole.. mostly becasue I thought ponyhead’s hearts and brains were the same organ. Star does however manage to get the map they need to Tom. 

Our heroines find the Demonicsim site and a bunch of creepy guys in robes iwth red glowing eyes.. who are never explained honestly. More on that in a minute. So ponyhead distracts them with one of the greatest  gags in the series history

I mean just.. look at it. The way the robe drapes, the way her nose sticks out much like a certain penguins, the way she decides to distract everyone with petty minute like voting on robes.. it’s fucking great. I may not like pony a LOT but she can be really damn funny> The issues that she often isn’t funny enough to ofset her jackassery. Here though even with my jabs at her.. she works and I like it.  So Star confronts Tom, wondering AGAIN if this is another half assed tactic to win her back.. and her flip flop attitude with tom is starting to annoy me. It fits her personality, and don’t get me wrong as i’ve made abudnatnly clear in past reviews his actions in blood moon ball and ESPECIALLY mr.candle cares were super not okay, so i’ts okay NOT to forget how badly things went last time when your considering getting back together with someone. It’s NOT okay however to hold it over someone’s head forever like any moment their going to snap back into being a manipulative doucheweasel when they’ve left you alone for around 8 months.. and Id id my calcualtion. The timeline of the show is pretty solid up to season 4: Season 1 was star’s 1st semister at echo creek academy, season 2 was her second and as it turned out final one, and season 3 covers Summer , fall and part of next spring. Though again how another summer dosen’t happen until towards the end of season 4 is dumb and I’ll probably rant about that at a later point. Point is since MCC was at the start of season 2, that means it happened around say january or feburary, with Demonicsim probably happening around say march. So he’s left you alone for around 8 months, silver bell ball included. It’s unfair to assume he’s still schemeing when he let you go months ago. H’es made it obvious via his .. everything he’d take you back in an instant, he’s just being patient and not pushing it because he’s no longer as big an asshole, and trying to be respectful. Cut him a break.  Thankfully this gets put down quick with Tom explaning he wants to be better for himself: Like last time he was inspired by her trying to be better herself, and wants to.. but as we’ve established.. he dosen’t know HOW to be nice or a better person. He wasn’t raised in an enviroment that was really condusive to that as nice as his own parents are. Their the exception to the underworld being mostly dicks not the rule, as we’ll see next time. I.. can relate with my own issues with anxiety , depression and, yes, anger. I too have trouble keeping it in and hate feeling bitchy all the time or depressed and just want it to stop. I think anyone with a mental ilness just wants it to STOP to be gone and to be able to live a happy life. But there’s no magic button that fixes your issues, your traumas or your mental health like that. No pill that can fix it just ones that help ease it down to managable. And as i’ve learned the hard way YOU have to work at it, YOU have to make the effort. There’s no easy way out. And while Tom thinks htere is here, it’s very clear it’s a huge risk, and Star’s right that he shoudlnt’ go thorugh with it and that he could seriously hurt himself. But Tom’s in pain and just wants to be happy, to be normal, to be not angry anymore and I gotta tell you if , even if it was risky, there was a way to cure my depression or anger issues or anxiety, not my atuisim tha’ts part of me and not something that needs a fucking cure just more understanding and awarness, but if I could cure those other three things? I would. It’s paart of me sure but it’s a part of me I HATE. So I understand why tom’s doing this even despite the danger: because he’s at his wits end, desperate and this will help he hopes.. it can’t get WORSE, so why not? Evne if he’s wrong here i’ts hard not to understand why he’s so stubborn about it , for me at least.  Star leaves, and takes Ponycloak with her and they go to punch trees: Both to relive and because Pony hates tree. Probably because she went to tree court once and they tried to send her to tree jail. 

I mean she’ll probably get thrown back in there for this but still. Anyways the exerocisim comes. And NOW we can talk about this cult and.. while I understand why they never came back, they were really only necessary for this, I wish they had. I mean a mysterious cult with the power to restrain someone as strong as tom, acess to anti-magic chains the ONLY time we see something like this outside of the comission, and a hatred of demons includign referring to Tom as “Son of the blight” meaning they clearly hate and would destroy Wrathmelor if they could, yet also function as a perfectly legal orginzation the comission or the lucitors themselves haven’t swatted yet. There’s a LOT to unpack here they never did. The leader is also hliarious alteranting between creepy overlord and your dentist after a long apointment as a kid. But the ritual begins and it .. dosen’t go well with tom getting glowy blue lines and thrashing about.. just like me when i watched Ridciulous 6. I also felt my soul was leaving my body but that was just wishful thinking. The cultists run and star runs back to Tom and we get a truly powerful and romantic scene. Unable to free him, Star just.. holds him and is there for him as he goes through this. If she can’t help him she’ll be there for him. And it’s really touching.  We then cut to the hosptial tent at the cult, where the leader goes back to dad mode. Tom feels .. well worse, he just had surgery, as someone who had a tooth yanked out last month I can relate, and is suprised to see only one tiny soul demon as the sum of his anger. But it turns out, NOPE, being you know, the son of a rather powerful demon with a rather pwoerful b loodline, he’s FULL of them, and it woudl take 13 years to do this.. and tom’s naturally bummed because no one wants the equipvlent of having a wisdom tooth pulled a week for over a decade. Also because he now can’t get better.. but Star gently reassures him he’s already on the right track just by wanting to. As I said with most mental issues.. there’s no easy way out but it can get better if you put the work in and tom realizes.. there’s no quick way out after all. Just a long road.. but h’es not alone on it anyomore. But he at least gets a tiny demon in a jar and a toy out of the toychest for being a good boy.. and that’s nto me making shit up that’s the actual episode with him and star taking pinwheels and holding hands to Ponyhead’s annoyance. Which okay yeah they had a bad time last time I get tat Pony.. but your the last person to question ANYONE’S life decisions. Still I wish we’d had ane pisode of pony growing to accept them so we at least know WHY she’s so against it but oh well. 

Final Thoughts: This was a good one. Is it hte best the show’s put out? Probably not as the first part drags slightly but the second half at the demoncisim is just good character stuff, good comedy, and has a good payoff. I honestly like this way more on the second watch.  Though part of that is the context of the time: I admitted to being a starco shipper and having her get back with tom just felt like your standard “put a character in a relationship to complicate the main pairing” bullshit I always hate at this stage. Before anyone relaizes they like each other? Sure but at this point it was clearly just to drag things out. However with Marco getting progressivley worse and the two having good chemsitry.. I grew to like em.. and by the season finale, I just shipped all three together, before pivoting to marco and kelly. This couple grew on me for reasons w’ell geti nto as we go, even if it ended bad for reasons we’ll again get into. Oh we’ll get into them. With a knife. But yeah overall a great episode with a great concept, good character stuff, and some REALLY fucking funny gags. The show is damn good at comedy and I forget it sometimes. Next time we look at Tom, he’ll be in the background as Marco tries to help Kelly with a breakup. And sometime this month we’ll be looking at the halloween special which i’ll be watching for the very first time! So stay tuned, stay safe and Happy Halloween. 

[pinknerdpanda]

Help Me Understand

Word Count: 2k-ish Pairing: Dean x Lisa, Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst, cursing, mutual pining, cheating

A/N: Hey, ya’ll! Long time, no fic, amirite? Anyway - I’m back again, though you may wish I’d just stayed away. ;) This was written for @rockhoochie​’s Love Supernatural Style challenge. My prompt was “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Paul McCartney and Wings (x). Congrats on your milestone! This takes place around Season 6.

Beta’d by the always lovely and very talented @shy-violet-soul​. Thanks for the love and support, sweet cheeks! *hugs*

x

Help Me Understand

Another night, another hunt, another smug smile from the green eyed man seated across the room from me. It’s not aimed at me; not this time anyway. No, that smile - that toothy, eye-crinkling, “light up the room” smile - it’s for her. I scoff, bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a swig, desperate to look anywhere but at his arm, curled possessively around her shoulders, or his lips as he brushes them gently against her temple.

I wish I could make myself leave; walk away and have literally anything else to look at besides them. But if I do, it would raise questions I’m not ready or willing to answer. It’s easier to stay here, glued to this seat, pretending to celebrate the end of a long-ass hunt than face the fallout of my abrupt departure.

Her laugh is bright - throaty and full of joy - as Dean whispers in her ear, her fingers fisting in the front of his shirt and her head thrown back.  

I have no right to feel the stab of jealousy as it twists into my side, steals the air from my lungs, burns at the back of my eyes. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s quickly paired with a gut wrenching, nauseating pang of guilt. The feelings aren’t new - haven’t been for longer than I care to admit. But their intensity hasn’t lessened over time. 

I focus my attention on the flimsy, brightly colored coaster protecting the already blemished wood of the table from the condensation dripping down my beer bottle. 

I can feel it. I don’t know how, but I can and I know if I look up, I’ll find a pair of moss colored eyes focused on me, despite the girl tucked under his arm.

There was a time when the pull of his gaze felt too heavy to ignore, or maybe I was just unwilling to try. This pain, though - it’s hardened my resolve; the constant friction has calloused a part of me. These days, I’ve found I can refuse him the satisfaction of direct eye contact, though I can’t be sure how much is out of self-preservation and how much is full-on, unbridled bitterness.

I wish I could say it wasn’t always this way; that the years of working together had formed this indelible bond between us. But it was there from the moment we met. The memory of that day is so vivid in my mind, I can practically feel the sizzle of electricity between us as our hands touched the first time. I may not have known the exact road that lay ahead, but I could read the road signs enough to know that things could only end one way. 

Our interactions were largely professional at first. He’d call, asking for some help on a case - sometimes vice versa - both of us eager to help the other. We’d talk about the victims, the M.O., lore, but even then, the tension was there, bubbling under the surface but neither of us addressed it. In fact, there were a multitude of things left unsaid between Dean and I. 

One night, a few months back, I’d mentioned the possibility of getting out of this life; trying to find some semblance of normalcy. He’d nodded as he listened, the cold air of the evening enveloping us as we sat on the hood of his Impala. Despite the dark, I could make out the way his throat convulsed as the moon reflected the shine of unshed tears in his eyes. 

That was the closest we’ve gotten to addressing the elephant in the room. As the conversation drifted on to other things - Sam, the Campbells, her - he stopped, sucking in a breath and looking away from me.

“Life is weird,” he began, his breath hanging in the air. He licked his lips, eyes cast downward. “It’s like, ya know, you’ll never see yourself the way I see you. Your voice sounds completely different to me than it does to your own ears.”

Silence followed. 

What could I say? Maybe it was just a brief moment of introspection, but it felt heavy.

Something had shifted then. He started calling me late at night - sometimes short conversations about the mundane, sometimes lengthy discussions about what was going on with Sam. I think he felt lost; alone. Finding out Sam’s soul was gone broke part of him, and there was only so much he could talk about with Lisa. She wasn’t raised in this life. He needed someone who understood, but someone who could provide an objective opinion. I guess that someone was me. 

Lisa’s laugh carries across the room again. Glancing up, I watch as she stands, shaking her head and grabbing empty beer bottles in each hand. Just as she starts toward the bar, Dean’s hand shoots out, gripping her wrist and pulling her down for a quick kiss. She giggles when Dean slaps her ass playfully as she walks away. 

Before I can look away, his eyes lock on mine. As much as I want to ignore the tingle running down my spine at the pleading expression on his face, I can’t. And that’s what propels me to my feet, the chair creaking backward abruptly and me knee banging on the underside of the table. My nearly empty beer bottle wobbles precariously before tipping over completely, the remaining liquid splashing against my thigh. Gathering my coat and purse, I reach inside to grab a few crumpled bills and throw them on the table. I don’t look back as I make my way to the exit, but hearing the sound of shuffling behind me hastens my steps. I’m desperate to feel the kiss of winter air against my flushed skin.

“Y/n.” Dean’s voice is muffled as the front door swings back in place behind me. Maybe it hit him in the face. 

I rifle blindly through the contents of my purse, anxious to find my keys somewhere in the mess. Just as my fingers close on the metallic ring, a hand grips my arm, halting my steps.

“Y/n?” Dean sounds slightly breathless. 

Though I’ve stopped, I haven’t turned around and frankly, I don’t plan to. As though he realizes this, his grip tightens as he pulls me around to face him. 

Lines of worry and confusion furrow his brow and his lips are pressed together in a harsh line as he searches my face. 

He tries again, his voice low. “Y/n. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just getting late.” A carefully practiced smile curves my lips as I gently pull my arm from his hold. “I think I hear my bed calling my name. Goodnight Dean.”

“Y/n, wait. Please?” The pleading look I’d seen from him inside seems to have found a voice, the words thick on his tongue.

“What?” My response is more clipped than I mean for it to sound. Sighing, I try again. “What do you need, Dean.”

His mouth moves silently, stopping and starting as though he’s weighing his answer carefully. The muscle in his jaw flexes under his scruffed cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are so soft, I wonder for a moment if I’d imagined them, but the look in his eyes shows me I didn’t.

“Sorry for what?” I try for oblivious, but it just sounds tired.

The dull roar of the bar behind him echoes around us, and Dean looks back to find two men stumbling out of the building toward the patio, probably to smoke. Wordlessly, he pulls me behind a large dumpster and out of view from anyone coming out of the bar. The pleading look I’d seen before is back, his eyes flicking across my face as he steps closer. 

My heart is beating violently inside my chest due to his proximity and his scent is overwhelming - beer and gunpowder mixed with something musky and clean. Then, it happens. It’s simultaneously the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened in my life.

His lips are soft against mine and a stark contrast to the bristles of his beard against my cheek. It’s slow - not demanding, or full of fiery passion. A sigh passes from my lungs to his as he tilts his head to one side. I know it’s wrong. I know this is exactly what was never supposed to happen, but it is. It is, and there’s no point holding back now.

I flick the tip of my tongue against the crease of his lips, and he moans, opening up to me as he pulls me closer - one hand in my hair and the other in a crushing grip against my hip. He tastes like beer and home, and my heart aches at how right it feels and at the same time, so wrong. 

The sob that bursts from my chest ends it and I pull back, dropping my gaze to the ground to hide the tears. Dean just pulls me against him, pressing my face against his chest and rubbing soothing circles against my back. He shudders, pressing his lips against my hair.

When I can finally catch my breath, I pull free and step back. He doesn’t try to stop me, just lets his hands drop to his sides, sighing.

“Why?” 

It’s one word; three letters to try to unravel everything between us. 

Dean pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

“I feel like these last few months, there’s been this thing,” he sighs, “between you and I. I don’t understand it. It’s like you’re the only person in the world who really sees me. Sometimes it feels incredible, and sometimes it’s so damn scary I can hardly breathe.”

When I don’t answer he scrubs a hand across his face, huffing out a breath.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he mutters.

“What about Lisa?” Dropping my gaze to the ground, I cross my arms tightly, trying to hold myself together against the crack in my chest. I don’t know whether he’s hurt or angry, but I can’t look at him as he scoffs.

“I love her.” His voice catches. 

The crack in my chest deepens, and I curse myself as another sob breaks from my lungs.

“I can’t help it. I do.” Dean pauses, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. The sight of tears trailing down his cheeks catches my breath. “But I love you, too. And honestly, it terrifies the shit out of me. I know, it’s so goddamn selfish, but I can’t lose you.”

“Well, Dean. You can’t have it both ways,” my voice trembles, but I continue. “It’s not fair to me, and it’s sure as hell isn’t fair to her.”

“I know.” He releases my chin and rakes his hand through his hair, tugging violently on the short strands. “I know. I’m sorry.”

And there it is. The answer I always knew, but never wanted. It will never be me - at least not while she’s around; it can’t be. No good can come of me staying. I can’t be responsible for her heartbreak, no matter how shattered my own heart is and no matter how selfish I wish I could be. I straighten my shoulders and suck in a steadying breath.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

I don’t wait for a response before striding past him. The cacophony of the bar fills the night once again, and I know before I ever hear her voice.

“Dean? You out here?” It’s clear from her tone that she’s clueless, and I’m grateful for that, at least. 

I wrench the door of my truck open, tossing everything across the seat before climbing inside and shutting the door. It’s fitting, I realize as I look up to see Dean striding to meet her. The door is finally closed for good and, despite the ache in my chest, I feel relief wash over me. Some doors are just better closed.

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