#no seriously ever in that town might die

[wanderingskychild]

God things are only going to get much worse now that the deer was captured. Hey herb gatherer, witness the consequences of your betrayal! That deer saved you twice already.

You better help me rescue them & the others or I swear I’m gonna…..!

Oh who am I kidding, I’m begging for your help.

I still can’t believe they poisoned the oasis. These are the biggest dark plants I’ve ever seen! The water has grown foul too.

Wait a minute, isn’t the water here connected to the town. There’s a tunnel at the lake’s bottom that leads directly into town. Isn’t this their water supply.

Uh Oh 😟

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.

—

From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.

“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?” The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”

Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”

—

“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. “You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”

Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?

[bioblsm]

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 ��

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil’ somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[dycefic]

Tom Saves The World

Everyone knows that it’s super-heroes who save the world. They fight the aliens, or the monsters, or the bad guys. And mostly, that’s true.

But not always.

I’m a psychic. The thing is, my range isn’t that great. I don’t have much detail more than about 36 hours out, 48 for something really big. I’d had a nebulous sort of bad feeling for about a week before this one finally hit, and it was big. Something very tough and very supernatural was going to come up out of the harbor of Nova Roma, and the death-toll was going to be high. Crazy high.

I did all I could. I told the Unaligned Supers Job Placement Agency, and they put the word out to everyone on both sides of the Line. The Henchman’s Union don’t like natural disasters any more than anyone else, and they’re often quite helpful against eldritch horrors and stuff like that. Things that don’t hire henchmen and ruin the property values.

The trouble was, nobody big was around. The only really big team of heavy hitters on the West Coast were away dealing with some sort of doomsday cult - I never was clear on what that was about - and Guarde and Dog Fox were out of touch and even Mx Frantique was out of town at someone’s wedding. It was going to happen in less than two days and we couldn’t find anyone to help and I was seriously considering calling in some kind of bomb threat or something to get people away from the docks, at least.

And then, about eighteen hours out, it just… went away.

Which never, ever happens.

My powers might be short range, but they’re reliable. I don’t get stuff wrong, and I hadn’t been able to find any way to prevent what was going to happen, or even been able to identify anyone who could. But someone did. Someone had done something to stop the threat, something that happened literally while I was opening my car door. When I reached for the handle, thousands of people were going to die. By the time the door was open, there was no threat at all.

At first I thought it must have been a ranged thing. Like, whatever I’d been seeing (all those teeth, I saw them in nightmares for months after) had been distracted by something tasty on its way here and gotten off track, that it’d come up somewhere up or down the coast. My range isn’t that big, either. Anything outside about thirty miles might as well be on Mars for all I know about it. So we kept a watch out, and warned the chapters of the Union and the Agency in other cities.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I couldn’t explain it, and I was really unpopular for a while. Supers do NOT like people who cry wolf. There’s enough freaky shit we have to deal with without someone panicking everyone with a dire prophecy that fizzles out.

Thank all the gods that Tunny showed up. Nobody’s really sure what Tunny actually is - sentient fish creature, some kind of really mutated human, an alien, or what. She changes her story a lot. But she’s pretty friendly, especially for a twenty-foot-long horror-movie-mermaid-thing with four arms, so when she came into harbor to pick up some supplies a guy from the Agency went out to tell her what I’d seen. I’d gotten a wharf and dock number, so she went down to check.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen Tunny scared before. Her English wasn’t good enough to really explain what she’d found hibernating down there, but it was something very old and very powerful and very dangerous, and if it’d been woken up my vision would just have been the start of the crisis.

She rounded up a bunch of whales to help her move it, once she was sure it hadn’t been agitated and wasn’t likely to rouse if moved carefully. They towed it out before dawn, not wanting to scare the civilians, and when I saw the footage from the helicopter the Union sent up, when I saw how big the swell was, how many whales were pulling, I swear I nearly crapped myself. No wonder I’d been getting hints a week in advance. Somehow we dumbass humans had built a whole fucking city almost on top of some kind of Ancient Old… THING, and eroded the sea-bottom until it was exposed, and if someone hadn’t done whatever it was we’d all have been dead long before Tunny arrived. And not just all as in ‘all of Nova Roma’, it could have taken out half of the continent... or all of it.

It took me years to find out what happened. YEARS. It turned into a kind of hobby, tracking everything that might possibly have come into contact with Wharf 38 on that particular day.  

And what I found, eventually, was a city employee named Thomas Briggs.

I’d found out early on that 38 wasn’t in good repair. Not that bad, but not great. It was old, things were getting a bit saggy in a few places, but there’d been no sign that anything was likely to fall off on the day. It had sat there for a couple of years after the crisis that never happened,, doing its job without problems then been rebuilt without any drama at all.

Entirely, completely, and totally because of Thomas Briggs.

The story, when I finally pieced it together, went like this.

There’d been some project or other to build some sort of high-budget science project over on the other side of the harbor, hanging it off’ve Pier 8, the furthest out on that side. Something about tracking sea-life or ships or something. My conversational English is near perfect, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t speak science nerd in ANY language. It’d all been approved, some university was covering most of the cost, it was all gonna be fine. And it was gonna be over on 8 because that side of the harbor is the shallow end. It’s where the sailboats go. All the big stuff that would block visual sensors and deafen the thing with engine noise was over in the thirties, in the real deep water.

They were almost ready to install the thing when a bunch of rich dudes suddenly got their panties in a bunch over having a big sciency tower thing ruining the view from their yachts, and tried to get it moved.

To, and I’m sure you guessed this, Wharf 38.

Which was completely insane. It wouldn’t be able to do its job over there, it’d be way more in the way, and (although they couldn’t have known it) the installation would definitely have woken up the Thing sleeping by the wharf and we all would have died. But rich dudes with yachts don’t care about that stuff. They’d bitched out and bribed up their friends on the city council, and those friends had done their thing, and the scientists had been left in the dark, and it’d almost gone through. They’d figured to install it right away, so that when the science guys found out it’d be too late and they’d either have to pay a lot to move it or just use it where it was.

Enter Thomas Briggs.

Mr Briggs, Tom to his friends, didn’t give a crap about the yachts or the science. He was a senior money guy for the commercial wharfs, the one who figured out things like how much money they’d take in in a quarter, and what the repair budget should be, stuff like that. He found out about this thing two days before the disaster would have happened, and sat down and did the math.

Then he sent out an email to the guys trying to push this through, and he ripped into them like they’d threatened to knife his mother. I got my hands on that email, and I didn’t understand a lot of it any more than the council guys would have. It was ALL numbers. But at the top he wrote it out in plain English. Pier 8 was new, and rated to handle the weight of the thingy. Wharf 38 was going to be scrapped in a few years, and it was NOT rated for that kind of structure. Pier 8 had plenty of room around it. Wharf 38 was already a tight fit for the big commercial ships, and adding a structure sticking out on one side would block off at least half of the wharf to those ships completely.

Bottom line, putting the thing on Wharf 38 would cost the city hundreds of thousands of dollars more per year than putting it on 8, AND the city would have to eat the cost if 38 collapsed under it which it could easily do, AND the city would have to pay to move it in a couple of years anyway when 38 was due to be rebuilt.

And he cc-ed every important person he had an email address for, including the mayor, the anti-corruption people, and several reporters.

He must have sent that email right when I was opening my car door.

The whole plan collapsed right there, and some people got fired. There was no news story because the whole plan got killed before the reporters even got to the right office. The installation was started on Wharf 8 a few weeks later and I never connected it to a commercial wharf on the other side of the harbor.

One email, and a man who I never could have located in time, a man who had no powers at all, a man who was just conscientiously doing his job looking after the city’s money saved the city, and the continent, and maybe even the world.

Who could have predicted that? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t deny that I went home and got drunk off my ass that night. Just thinking about how close that had been made my hands shake. One man. One honest man who’d done the math.

I put the word out, once the hangover wore off. What had happened. That Thomas Briggs was the reason we were all alive and everyone better make his life real nice from now on, because he’d done what none of us could do and nobody but the supers would ever even know it.

He’s got a lot of luck coming to him, I can tell you. We don’t forget debts like that.

And I knew that’d freak him out, because honest men don’t like it when people start doing them a lot of favors for no apparent reason, so I tracked him down at the little bar where he likes to have a quiet beer on Friday nights before he goes home. Hell, I was the one who’d gone through it all, back then. I should get to tell him.

I sat down beside him at the bar and looked at him. I saw a thin, small, balding man who looked like he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, with lines around his eyes. Yeah, he looked like a man who’d do the math. “Thomas Briggs?”

He blinked at me through his glasses. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Barkhado Omar, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I offered him my hand and he shook it, still looking confused. Which was fair, ‘cause I doubt a lot of seven foot tall Somali women came up to him in bars even when he was young. He’s got to be close to retirement now.

He frowned. “Looking for me? Why?”

I smiled at him. “Tom, let me buy you a drink and tell you about the day you saved the world.”

It’s usually us who save the city, or the world. We have all the intel, all the advantages, all the powers.

But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s someone like Tom Briggs, doing the right thing at the right time and never knowing that he changed the course of history.

Wild, huh?

--

This story is a direct result of me and my ex chatting about how different the entire Marvel Universe would have been if Jean’s first ‘resurrection’ - being found in a life pod under a wharf, IIRC - had happened at like... any other time. Earlier. Later. It would have changed SO MUCH.

And we speculated about how it could happen, how someone just puttering around in middle management might have unknowingly saved countless lives, prevented Madelyne’s corruption, the legacy virus, all of it, just by postponing that particular set of repairs a bit longer.... and I couldn’t resist writing a version of the story in which Tom does, in fact, save the world.

[scoops-aboy86]

I just saw a post about a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship but with the ages switched, so the one with money is in his twenties and the financially struggling one is in his forties. And I thought, wouldn't that be GREAT as a Steddie fic. 

Like, heir to the Harrington fortune Steve is just itching to dump his parents’ money down the drain on something. Or someone, because. You know. His parents tried to buy his love without ever being around to deserve it and that worked out Great, might as well continue the Harrington tradition (he thinks, while rolling his eyes). 

Enter Eddie Munson, walking disaster. Who sells weed for a living but spends most of his time planning and running dnd campaigns for underprivileged kids. Who is still trying to make it with his band, but meanwhile he’s the only member who can’t get a decent steady job because of bullshit murder charges when he was 19. (Which didn’t even stick, but it’s a small town… or maybe his dad just pissed off that many people.)

Eddie has the muscle tone of a slim jim and the hair of a tormented barbie doll, but the one physical feature he’s incredibly proud of are his tattoos. They’re all obviously home done, but when Steve realizes they’re all Eddie’s own work he’s (a) grudgingly impressed and (b) now has TWO great ideas for pissing off his parents. 

So Steve gets a tramp stamp in an apartment that he pays for but has Eddie’s name on the lease, and a grungy older boyfriend to parade around whenever he feels his parents need keeping in check. And maybe Eddie kind of makes it his unofficial job/personal undertaking to look into Harrington family dealings (he has his sources; his dad also schmoozed a lot of people and everyone knows his uncle is a stand-up guy) and alert Steve to things they’re being assholes about that Steve, more through fault of his upbringing than his own, wouldn’t have noticed. 

Like, maybe they own some medical buildings and are thinking of raising the rent on a pediatrician practice that offers sliding scale to low income families. At first, Steve is a little dismissive…

Steve: What’s the big deal? There are other pediatricians in town.

Eddie: Yes, but not everyone can afford to take their kids to them. 

Steve: Oh come on. 

Eddie: No, seriously. 

Steve: But… What if the kid gets really sick or hurt? 

Eddie: Sometimes they die, Steve.

Steve: ………………………. Okay yeah no that’s not happening. 

The next week, that practice has their rent lowered and a new lease locked in to keep the space (maybe even expand it into the plastic surgeon’s place next door) pretty much indefinitely and there’s an elite charity event that Steve and Eddie pointedly do not go to. 

(He can’t always get away with not going. Sometimes he plays the cards he’s dealt and goes with some pretty girl on his arm, but he has her home by midnight and he’s riding his boyfriend into the mattress by 1am.)

Eddie’s bandmates are dubious, but Eddie keeps swearing up and down that Steve isn’t a bad dude, he just has a lot of blind spots that he’s working on. Some harder than others, sure, but overall his cause seems to be just. Ish. A lot of what Steve does is motivated by petty revenge, but his parents are kind of shitty people so it tends to work out. “Plus,” Eddie adds brightly, “he’s a firecracker in the sack.” And is pelted with things for the crime of rubbing his sex life with a catch almost half his age in their faces. 

At some point they meet Steve, who has been specifically coached by Eddie to NOT buy out an entire restaurant or bar for the night just for the occasion. They come away with the general impression of, “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.”

Maybe they met in the first place because Dustin is one of the underprivileged kids Eddie was running campaigns for, and Steve has always had a soft spot for Dustin (and by extension all of Dustin’s friends and their families) since Mrs. Henderson was one of his nicer nannies growing up. Maybe Steve sets up a whole community center and tries to put Eddie in charge of it, but Eddie doesn’t really want to be anyone’s boss; he just wants to help kids excel at a game he loves because its one of the things that really helped keep him steady through his rough childhood and adolescence. But he does work there, because that way he can keep playing dnd AND teach guitar lessons. 

(Steve offered to help get the band signed to a label but Eddie was adamant, if they were going to make it they’d do it on merit, not money, or not at all. It’s really become more of a hobby for the other guys anyway.)

So Eddie is finally OKAY. He has a good income, a decent amount saved up from while Steve was covering all the bills he can now pay himself, and his Uncle Wayne hasn’t been more proud of him since the day he finally graduated high school on the third try (which was pretty good, for a Munson). 

And Steve… isn’t sure what to do with himself now that Eddie doesn’t need him anymore. He can’t think of anything he’s good for other than money—though his best friend Robin tells him that’s just because he’s a dingus, there are PLENTY of things. (They’ve been best friends since college, and there’s a story there but someone else is gonna have to fill in that blank because I’m getting sleepy.) Dustin chimes in that yeah, he can totally tell that Eddie has been sneaking Steve into campaigns as an npc (which he has to explain to Steve, again, even though they’ve been over this many times) for ages and is clearly so in love with him it’s ridiculous, has been for a while. 

Maybe Steve panics and does something dumb after that, but not so boneheaded that they can’t work it out dramatically in the rain after a brief period apart. Like in one of those romance movies that they both pretend they think are silly but genuinely get them choked up sometimes because they’re both kind of saps underneath it all. 

Eddie goes on to become a well respected tattoo artist, while still pitching in at the community center a few days a week. Steve continues his philanthropy work with the guidance of Eddie, Robin, his ex and investigative journalist Nancy, etc., and his own shaky-as-a-baby-giraffe-that-landed-on-its-head-straight-out-of-the-womb-but-getting-steadier instincts. They get married while skydiving (because Eddie joked about it and Steve held him to it), build the found family of Steve’s dreams, and live happily ever after. 

… Anyway, if someone could write all that out in actual prose I would love to read it. But with the sex dialed up to eleven because that’s important but I think I only actually mentioned it twice, a travesty.

[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 7

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/ the topic of suicide.

First - Prev - Next

CH.7

“You really need to tidy this place up, Stanford. I know you live by yourself, but that’s no excuse to have papers and books scattered around like a dust devil came through.”

“It’s organized chaos, Fiddleford. I know where everything is.”

“And this pile of unwashed laundry?”

“I’ll get to it. Washing clothes is a waste of time, and I’m a busy man.”

“Uh huh, and this pile of unopened letters on your counter? What are all of these, Stanford?”

“Several of our colleagues started sending me letters en masse.”

“And you didn’t open or read them?”

“I received so many at once, it must have been an invitation for a convention. I wasn't interested in attending one at the time. I’ll get to them eventually.”

“These are dated over a year-.”

“Eventually.”

“You’re stubborn as a mule. At least wash your dishes. You’ve been categorizing your notes for the past hour - what are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to find the definitive event.”

“For Stan?”

“Yes. You said that something extremely traumatic caused the memory loss; if I can identify what event exactly caused this, maybe I can fix this. The problem is, however…”

“Is that you’ve handled the situation in the most extreme way you could think of?”

“No. That isn’t it- and that isn’t true.”

“Mhmmm.”

“The problem is there’s too much.”

“Too much?”

“Trauma. He’s offhandedly mentioned terrible things- even when I met him in town, he had three stab wounds and acted like it was no big deal. And the more we ask, the more we prod, there’s more. The ones we heard were just the ones he was comfortable enough to mention, there has to be worse things he will not or can not speak of. And that thought… scares me, Fiddleford. I knew he wasn’t doing fantastic, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

“That’s not your fault Stanford - didn’t you say he left home? It is sad he was too stubborn to ask you or anyone else in your family for help, but I suppose you two have that in common yeah?”

“...”

“I’ll admit that might have been tactless of me- Stanford? What’s- Hey! Hey now, it’s okay! It’s okay- I’m here for you.”

“...Five.”

“What’re you whimpering into your hands, now?”

“Five times. He wrote me a list of people who have tried to kill him in the past. There were thirty names.”

“That’s terrible, but not entirely surprising from what he’s-.”

“He listed himself five times.”

(...)

“How could you be so selfish?”

“I’m a selfish guy, I dunno what you want me to say.”

“Why do you only ever think of yourself?”

“Can’t afford not to. It’s dog eat dog out there, you know.”

“Will you take this seriously?”

“Will you tell me what you’re upset about this time? I can’t read minds, and I’ve known you for four days! Throw me a bone here, PhD.”

“You tried to- to take your own life?”

“Yeah. A couple times. Never succeeded, but that’s the story of my life.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you try something like-”

“Okay I’ve had enough of your judgemental bullshit. I’ve been playing along with your ‘missing twin’ narrative, the least you could do is not fucking go there. I’m a homeless criminal on the run all the time. You tell me why you think I’d want to die sometimes.

Use that big fucking brain of yours for two seconds and think statistics - homeless people kill themselves more than ‘regular’ people, so do prisoners and convicts. You’re both? Oooh boy you’re in for a time. You have to fight to survive all of the time, and sometimes… sometimes you just get so tired, you want to stop fighting you… you just want a break from it all. You want it to just end.”

“Stanley…”

“...”

“...Talk to me. Please. I’m not trying to judge you, I just want to understand.”

"...Let's say I am this mystery twin-"

"You are."

"I'm being hypothetical here, listen. Let's say I am this mystery twin of yours. Specs was saying he didn't even know you had a twin."

"How did-."

"You pressed the mute button, not deafen; I could still hear you. Anyways, your best friend didn't know you had a twin. So to your own best friend you never mentioned 'me' over what, at least 4 years or however long it took you to get a degree? Or in the years that followed? Not even once?

If I'm your twin, I can't have been that important for you to do all of this. I screwed something up, and you don't want me in your life."

"..."

"I don’t know what you're trying to prove here- if you’re going through some guilt or pity or whatever. I'm just some drifter! I don’t have anything, and I don’t have anyone. You shouldn't be wasting your time like this. I'm not worth any of the time or effort you’ve put into this. Even if I was who you think I am. Because that guy? That guy fucked up so badly you didn't think about him for ten years. And I'm just as big of a fuck up."

"Is that... is that what you think about yourself?"

"Stanford, that's all that I know about myself."

*Ford abruptly opens the barred door and walks through the forcefield into the cell*

"Woah woah, I'm not looking for a fight-."

*Ford hugs him, Stan just stands there*

"I wish you called, reached out to me, I-. I wish I reached out."

“...He probably wishes he reached out, too.”

To be continued...

[gothamite-rambler]

"You had a bomb in what?!" Dick asked, calmly. Inspired by a tiktok video by Panda Redd.

Jason, Dick, and Cass were in the library. Dick stared at Jason in shock after being told that his little brother had a bomb placed in his helmet as a fail safe during his long term revenge plan.

Dick (voice trembling with anger): What the fuck is wrong with you?

Jason (raising his hands defensively): Look—

Dick (interrupting, nearly shouting): No, what the actual fuck is wrong with you? Your revenge plan involved possible suicide?!

Jason (stammering): No— not all the plans.

Cass (supportively, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder): Well, we're glad that never happened.

Dick (turning to Cass, exasperated): Cass, don’t be supportive.

He pointed back to Jason.

Dick (cont'd): Jason, what in the seven sectors of hell is wrong with you? You could’ve nuked an entire town with that bomb!

Jason (playing this off as nothing): Let’s not exaggerate. It wouldn’t be that big of a blast. It’d take out the equivalent of four blocks in a neighborhood... that’s so rare.

Dick dropped to the ground in a fetal position.

Dick (shouting): Why... why do you have that specific unit of measurement? What scenario would you be in where you’d kill that many people?

Jason sighed, crossing his arms.

Jason: Dickie, you're framing it like it’s a bad thing that I wired a bomb in my helmet. Like I was that unhinged during the revenge plan. It was just a fail-safe. You’re being so overdramatic.

Jason chuckled, playfully patting Cass on the back to join in the laughter. She simply sits there blankly, trying not to judge her brother.

Dick (now standing, righteously enraged) YOU HAD A BOMB IN YOUR HELMET!

Jason (putting on a half-hearted grin) Okay, it’s a little bad that I equipped my main method of protection with a fail-safe bomb. But I’m better now.

Dick (folding his arms tightly, pacing): That so-called fail-safe has been in a helmet that has cracked more than once!

Jason (bragging) I got lucky with the wiring, didn’t I? When I first put that in, I was learning how those wires worked without accidentally making it go off.

Dick (voice rising): Fucking what?!

Cass (placing her hand on Jason's shoulder): Jace, you're making it worse.

Jason nodded, going silent for a few seconds as Dick sat back down, resting his head in his hands in despair.

Dick (horrified): I hit you with an electrified stick numerous times... how did it not go off?

Jason looked at Cass, who shrugs, giving him the green light to respond.

Jason (with a sly smile) I’m not bad at bomb-making, but don’t worry, the bomb is deactivated. The only time I might reactivate it... is if I set it to trigger when I die.

Cass let out a deep sigh, shaking her head.

Jason (noticing Dick glaring at him): I gotta go!

Jason bolted causing Dick to chase after him, shouting like an angry parent.

Dick (yelling): Jason, remove the bomb! Remove the bomb!

Jason ran the other way; Dick’s pace didn't slow down.

Jason (pleading): That's my helmet! I can’t replace it!

Dick (frustrated) Buy another one!

Jason (desperately) Nooooo!

Dick (throwing his hands in the air): God damn it, Jason!

Cass (sucking in her bottom lip, looking concerned): Hm.

She quickly texted Bruce about the helmet bomb, asking him not to be too hard on Jason. Bruce replied back with a thumbs-up.

At TGIF with the DC Trinity

Bruce was out to lunch with his (sort of) friends his brow furrowed in thought.

Bruce (seriously): In a situation where he dies, he could rig the bomb to that and then it detonates. I have to use that if he ever turns evil again.

Diana and Clark shared a look of shock, exchanging worried glances.

Diana (leaning forward): Have you thought about getting Jason DNA tested?

Bruce (sighs deeply, shaking his head): I'm not responding to that...again.

[junicult]

the bachelors and their thoughts on tattoos and piercings?? and if they have any/want any

!! the bachelors & tattoos / piercings

contains ; talk of piercings / tattoos. farmer has piercings tattoos (not specified). sfw. one minor nsfw comment in shanes (i seriously can’t help myself).

note ; i made this super quickly in literally like 10 mins😭

harvey

- he doesn’t have either.

- and he doesn’t plan on ever getting them.

- i don’t think he necessarily hates them, (on other people at least) but it’s not something he personally seeks out. like, if you just so happen to have tattoos or piercings, he doesn’t care.

- …he might be the type that doesn’t really like extensive amounts of facial piercings, tho.

- at least, if he met you and you already had those piercings, he might not want to seek a further relationship.

- if you’re already together, and extremely committed, you wanting piercings or tattoos wouldn’t change how he loves you.

- if he did have any piercings, they’d probably just be his ears. but i can’t even picture him getting any.

sam.

- LMFAO i just know he’s the person that doesn’t have any tattoos, but he constantly talks about all the tattoo’s he wants to get. (me)

- piercings, however, are a different story🤭

- he started off simple by getting his earlobe pierced for sure. definitely thought it was very “rockstar” to have.

- overtime he got a few more, (all of which taken place in sebastian’s basement), such as an upper lobe & orbital.

- and he definitely has an industrial. ik it.

- it’s probably healed too which is crazy.

- also, i think it’d be cute for him to just have a dainty little hoop on his nostril.

- when it comes to his partner, he couldn’t care less if they have any piercings / tattoos or not.

- butttt he thinks they’re so attractive. piercings especially.

- lip piercings if we’re being even more specific. ik that if u had snake bites, or an ashley piercing…phew.

- it just gives him an excuse to stare at ur lips lol.

- i feel like he would want to have his nipples pierced, but he’d never go through with it.

- same reason why he doesn’t have any tattoos.

- in general, because he skateboards and stuff, i feel like he’s immune to scratches and scrapes.

- he was also definitely the kind of kid that always had his arm in a cast or something.

- but i’ll still die on this hill: he has a low pain tolerance.

- sebastian can attest to it.

- mf is constantly squirming each time the needle even approaches his skin.

shane.

- he’s more of a tattoo kind of person then piercings.

- is it safe to say i think the majority of his are from when he was drunk😭?

- his pain tolerance is fairly high. he’s got a couple tattoo’s, that’s for sure.

- one on his arm of something gridball related to reminisce back on those days, and one on his back or maybe chest.

- of what? he doesn’t even know.

- as for piercings, definitely his regular & upper earlobes. he never changes the jewelry, it’ll always be that.

- i feel like he also has a daith just bc he heard it helps w migraines 😭

- but he is totally attracted to piercings.

- have any kind of facial piercings you want, he doesn’t care.

- but he’s an absolute sucker for body piercings, whether you have them or not.

- if u have ur belly button pierced, or even…u know…ur nipples dare i say; lord😭😭

- if ur dating, believe me he’s not ignoring those.

- when he sees u naked for the first time, or for the first time after u got those pierced—he’d be such a little asshole.

- “oh, these are nice.” he just raises his eyebrows, smirking down. “they healed?”

- if they are then…well. you already know.

- also he’s a sucker for a tramp stamp😭

- those were so popular in the 90s ik he’d lose his mind if u had one.

sebastian.

- pelican town’s unofficial piercer.

- lord.

- aside from multiple stick and pokes when he was in his teens, he doesn’t have any tattoos.

- they’re all definitely of things he looks back on and physically cringes. he doesn’t even tell people he has them, (besides sam & abby who were around when he was in that phase)

- the only reason you’d find out about them is if you saw them and asked him about it.

- as for piercings, he’s decked out.

- i’m talking lobes, orbital, helix, industrial, daith, conch. his ears are HEAVY.

- his eyebrow, nose, and lip is pierced too.

- his eyebrow might be one of his favs, and i also wholeheartedly believe that was his first ever piercing on himself when he was like 16. he stuck with it since.

- he also just has a nostril hoop. it’s black ofc.

- and…his lip piercing…

- a vertical labret 🤭🤭🤭.

- & u can disagree with me on this, but i’d like to think all of his piercings are properly cared for, cleaned, and healed. he’s not wasting any time caring for an infection.

- i also wanna say he has a few that he’s taken out as he’s gotten older.

- like his bridge piercing. he had it for a couple years before he decided to take it out, so he has a little scar there.

- i feel like abby has snake bites, which convinced him to get snake bites at one point. but when he got his labret, he took those out.

- lastly, i definitely think he had a septum at one point, but pretty quickly he realized it just didn’t suit him so he took it out.

- as for his partner, if you had any piercings—he doesn’t care. why would he?

- he’s incredibly impartial. whether you have them or don’t.

- but let me tell you…if you don’t have any, he’ll gladly change that if you ever asked😇😇

alex.

- he has none.

- zilch. zero.

- he’s not the biggest fan of a ton of piercings. unfortunately i feel like he was raised in that kind of household, so he was conditioned to feel the same way (we’ve all met george).

- like, if you have ur ears pierced or maybe one little face piercing, i don’t think he’d mind that much.

- it definitely depends on how much he likes you.

- if he met you while you had face piercings, he’d probably judge you by cover.

- but if you slowly got them after you’ve been dating a while, i feel like that’s when he’s realize how attractive they can be.

- if you got your lip pierced, and he got to see how plump your lips get from swelling—that might drive him crazy.

- everytime he leans in for a kiss you’d have to pull away, tutting, “ah-ah, no kissing.”

- it’s like ur torturing him.

- and if you ever convinced him to get a piercing, he’d only allow his ears.

- for tattoos, i think it’d be so sweet to imagine him wanting one that linked to his mom.

- like something she’s said before, a nickname she gave him, maybe even if she had a tattoo he’d get the same one.

- because he’s not that emotionally available, he never told anyone.

- not until u asked, and since he’s trusts you more then anyone, he doesn’t mind being vulnerable to you.

elliot.

- he has both.

- but his are just so beautiful that you’d literally see them on pinterest, y’know?

- he’s so tasteful with his piercings and tattoos.

- he’s a patchwork fan. like small separate tattoos on his arms and torso.

- each of which have meaning to him in someway.

- and his piercings are soo small and dainty. (GOLD TOO. he’s strictly gold.)

- he has a little stud on his nostril, and his ears are similar to sebastian’s.

- but he’s much more organized then anyone else. his piercings all took place over time, and they’re all matched. he’s a strict gold jewelry person.

- it just makes him look so clean and put together.

- when it comes to you, he in general doesn’t care whether you have them or not.

- physical attraction isn’t the biggest deal to him. so what if you do / don’t have piercings.

- but he can definitely appreciate if you’re just as dedicated to your jewelry / tattoos as he is.

[whorediaries-09]

can i use you up?

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s) - angst. a/n- a different take on my style of writing.

little train series masterlist.

sirius wanted nothing more but to punch the wall beside him. his feet were atrociously restless and he felt something within him that he'd never felt before. he was sure his knuckles would turn white with the grip he had on the newspaper.

in a span of a few years, he'd escaped the treacherous hold of his nightmares, been accepted into a place he could happily-safely call home. he'd escaped the prison- the hell hole that bound him down, depriving him of the ever sweet freedom. he had found people he could keep close and call home.

little did he know his home was really only just the town where he'd be arrested.

he didn't know he'd be barricaded to his ghosts, tied together with his pasts and prison. he didn't know he'd been bound by shrieking dementors that'd reminded him of his memories he'd so carefully concealed within the corners of his mind.

and with each passing day, when his trial is put off, he feels his hope blur and the fire of rebellion seeded within the crevices of his heart die.

he feels his last bit of sanity fade.

*-

sirius doesn't get any visitors. he never expected any the moment he'd been thrown away into the cell. so when the dementors rattle down on the cell, he grumbles, turning and tossing onto the stone floor.

'sirius!' moody's loud voice bellows. sirius recognizes it, he's learnt to memorize it and hate it so very well.

'what is it alastor!' he screams back. he fills the rage fill him up again. he likes it when he's left alone - when he's not treated like an animal in a zoo. he feels revolting, it scars him into the very depth of his skin.

'the ministry has decided to look into your case once again.' alastor says. his fake eye moves erratically. sirius has learnt to not let the joy affect him. the dementors don't scare him, no. the memories do. so with lifeless eyes, a true contradiction to the gaze of sirius black, he stares at him.

'i thought the ministry was far too fed with injustice? did their big fat brains come back to senses again? or is today april fool's alastor?' he spits.

'black, mind it. i might change my mind.' he piercingly glares at him. he chooses to stay silent and not give him a reaction upon his statement.

'who's taking on my case?' he asks, silently. he's quietened down. he doesn't want the emotions to overrule his logics.

'i am.' a new voice replies. sirius stares for the source of the voice, suddenly interested.

you appear from the shrouded darkness. staring ahead into his piercing gaze, you stand determined on the floor. as formality you offer him your name. he shakes his head, gazing at your form up and down. you shiver under his cold gaze.

'what interests you in my case, young lady?' he asks. to establish your seriousness, you stare right through his cold gaze.

'the injustice.' you whisper. he stares at you before his face breaks into a mocking smile which turns into a harsh, cruel laughter. his head heats up with rage he's never felt before.

'injustice?' he spits. 'i've to believe suddenly all you have gotten your senses back and you should hold a trial for someone who was arrested without proper evidence?' he waits for you to say something. he notices a shift in your body language as you relax your shoulders and shift your eyes on the ground before staring into his again.

'i don't care if you believe me or not. what i can promise you is that i'll give you your freedom.' you say, so serenely. for a moment, he feels a pang of jealousy at your calm state. but it quickly dissipates when the rage controls him over again.

'is that so? what lovely words! why should i believe that you don't think i'm the killer? what confirmation do i get, young lady?'

'that's a fair point you've got there mr. black. but i believe you because...well there's no way you could've been the cold blooded killer. i can only promise you and give you the surety of my words. if you insist, i can make the unbreakable vow with you.'

'you can't do that,' grunted moody, 'it'll trigger the dementors.'

'fine. if he wants, i can make the vow on the day of the trial.' alastor grunts.

'no.'

'yes,' you emphasize. 'do you want me to make the vow? will you believe me then?' sirius stares at you. he tries to decipher through the curtain of your blank stare.

'yes.' he says, his voice quiet and seemingly calm. within him, however, he breaks. he hears the hurricane with his name on it, coming nearer and nearer. the blood rushes to his ears, and he buries the heat within himself.

so, he does his best to lay to rest all of the feelings that have been in his heart. but in his mind, they sink into a swamp.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[dumbass-duo-showdown]

DUMBASS DUO SHOWDOWN ROUND 3 BATTLE 1

MONKEY D LUFFY & RORONOA ZORO (aka zolu) VS SHAWN SPENCER & GUS

PROPAGANDA

ZOLU

I could rant about them for actual hours but like it's so hard to put thoughts down. But literally an actual quote was someone telling Zoro that "you promised you wouldn't cause trouble" and Zoro replies, EXACT WORDS, "I had no choice because I ran into Luffy." There was also an exchange where Zoro was giving Luffy food and Luffy warns him it might be poison while eating it and Zoro is just like "huh, so that's why my stomach was hurting". They also both swung from vines once and BOTH decided to Tarzan yell. They agreed it was a requirement. Also, Luffy once said he didn't wanna be a hero because heros would share their meat and he wants all of it, and Zoro entirely separately says the SAME THING BUT WITH BOOZE INSTEAD. There are so many examples of them sharing a single braincell. More than I could ever list. But those are the examples I thought of off the top of my head.

On the surface, Zoro seems to have some common sense, and only follows Luffy’s dumb schemes out of respect. Then Nami joins and you realize that Zoro’s seriousness IS his dumbassedness. He and Luffy have one track minds for their own goals and wants, and while they may clash, they have a decent amount of respect for each other.

haven’t finished one piece yet but one example: zoro when stuck figured cutting off his feet would be a genius idea and luffy is luffy. there’s never any thoughts going on in that head

When I first started One Piece I thought Zoro was going to be the badass smart counterpart to the dumbass protagonist just like Vegeta or Sasuke. Turns out I couldn't be more wrong. Him and Luffy are besties and share one brain cell and even thou Zoro uses it most of the time it's still one.

They share one single braincell at the same time: after being seriously injured in a battle, one wakes up to drink sake the other to eat meat. One almost cut a Noble (which means being pursued til death by the most powerful marines), the other actually punches said Noble. One gest stuck between buildings, the other inside a chimney for absolutely unrelated reasons

Their solution to everything is to fight it. They never have a plan and just rush into everything. Somehow they are technically the leaders of the group as captain and first mate. They have both at some point attempt to cut or tear their legs or arms off to get out something. They used the same metaphor to explain why they aren’t a hero without hearing the other say it (a hero would share their meat/booze I want to keep it all to myself).

they said let us cut/punch a hole trough a giant tsunami and they did it <3 also one time they were suppossed to lay low, but well they both immediately started robbing and attacking a town and being recognized and labeled as criminals in a new country. they don't even share a braincell, whatever braincell they had before immediately leave as soon as they both are together, also King of the Pirates and World Greatest Swordsman dreamteam, also for lasagne thing not only would the house be gone, the city be burning and they are fleeing the police while also fighting the police

They're just soooo stupid. Zoro can't walk to steps without getting lost. So Luffy will yank him miles through the air to land on wood. Or stone. Or some other hard substance. Luffy would fight someone on accident for meat. And Zoro for booze. And they have no brain cells between them. Zoro new Luffy for approx. 3 seconds before he decided he would die for him. And Luffy heard about this big scary bounty hunter who was captured by marines and went. I need him on my crew. They're perfect for each other.

I dont where to begin. One of their latest feats though is them going into the enemy base, Meaning to sneak in, Luffy went in after another guy, Zoro after Luffy, luffy then Announced himself, started a fight bc ppl wasted food on purpose, ZORO hearing a commotion, SLICED THROUGH A BUILDING TO GET TO LUFFY AND THEN REPRIMANDED LUFFY FOR FORGETTING THE PLAN AND BEING UNABLE TO BE QUIET. THEN. T H E N LUFFY SAYS HE SPILT FOOD ON PURPOSE AND ZORO IS INSTANT LIKE oh ok. They gotta die. (Theres more to it but thats the gist. And thats not even. Much. They r just so stupid together <33)

they both get lost very easily, they will throw hands with anyone, very stupid but very understanding, were a 2 person pirate crew that sailed around on a rowboat, motivated entirely by fighting, meat, and sake, neither is particularly literate one time luffy got his hand stuck in a bottle and zoro tried to get it out by cutting his hand off, yes this happened in a canon episode

look, I have a tag for them that's literally #pair of idiots.

Gus & Shawn

They’ve been friends canonically since at least 3 years old and at the start of the show they’re I wanna say 30 maybe? And yet these two grown men are THE most chaotic idiots (affectionate) in the whole show (and let’s be real anywhere). The entire show in fact hinges on the idea that they’re dumbasses and WILL get into carat shenanigans. Episode examples include the one where they are investigating an alien abduction, the one where they’re looking for big foot, the vampire one, all of these by the way they hundred percent believe to be true until they themselves unwillingly prove otherwise. And maybe the most dumbass moment of all time, when Gus finds his boss dead and instead of calling the cops he gets his dna ALL OVER THE CRIME SCENE, calls Shane to help clean up and Shawn gets HIS DNA ALL OVER THE CRIME SCENE AS WELL!!!! Truly cannot think of a worse reaction to finding a dead body. They’ve been sucking that single brain cell that exists between them dry for over 3 decades now and they show no signs of stopping.

they are such idiots (affectionate) and they can't live without each other

they are. so stupid. both of them can be smart in their own ways but when you put them together the dumb best friends energy is unmatched. they are platonic soulmates pretending that shawn has psychic powers and solve crimes by dicking around and somehow always coming out alive. they accidentally befriend the criminals they’re supposed to be investigating constantly. they’re always one step away from being fired or arrested bc of their dumbassery

the entire show is literally shawn pretending to be a psychic (← dumbass behavior) and gus aiding and abetting him and actively a dumbass as well

If you have seen even a single episode of this show, you know these two fools are the best duo ever. Constantly bantering theough 80s movie references and animal like noises, most often above a dead body, these two bring unique different dummy energy that both brings each other up and builds up their own skills along the way. I will love these two men until the day I die and they deserve an honest chance to be the best dumbass duo of all time!

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Nine

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard

@xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically

@notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

@ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972

@glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

@sazzlep @night-ace @lyl1pad @mistresskayla-blog1

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Thorin strode back into the Great Hall, his emotions a maelstrom of fury and despair and what he was fairly certain was the shards of his broken heart stabbing him from the insides.

As he crossed into the Great Hall, Elisin emerged from the crowd with a smile on her lips that personified the word smug. Oh, her eyes were wide and filled with a feigned innocence, but that smile spoke volumes.

“Why are you still here?” he growled, staring at her in disbelief. She had stones bigger than most of the men he knew, to approach him as if thinking he’d actually be happy to see her.

“Well, because, with her gone now, I thought—”

“With her gone? Have you gone completely mad? Are you truly that stupid?” His voice rose with each word, his hands clenching as he spoke. “Did you think I would welcome you back? That I would just simply forget the woman I want to marry?”

“But, Thorin, I—”

“No!” The word rang out, reverberated throughout the hall with enough force that everyone fell silent, watching with great interest. 

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean just that! Take yourself from my sight and from Erebor and do not ever think to come back here. You are no longer welcome and I would rather die alone than spend one more moment in your presence.” He stepped away from her, afraid he’d raise a hand to her otherwise. “Dwalin!”

Dwalin appeared as if by magic and without being told, he caught Elisin by the arm. “Ye’ve done more than enough damage here, ye wench,” he growled, tugging none too gently on her, “and now, ye’ll be leaving us for good.”

Her protests rang out but Thorin ignored them, ignored her, ignored everyone around him as he stalked from the Great Hall. As he passed by Dís, she started to say something, but thought better of it as he stormed passed her. He saw nothing. Ignored everyone he came upon. He just wanted to be left alone. 

Over the next few days, everyone in Erebor steered clear of Thorin, lest they wished to have their head bitten off for the slightest of things. Even he couldn’t remember the last time his mood was so black. Not even when he was in the grips of dragon sickness and paranoid beyond reason about the Arkenstone, was he in so foul a mood. 

Day after day found him up on the ramparts, staring off toward Dale. Every instinct he possessed fairly screamed at him to get to Dale as quickly as possible and right everything with Nina. But, he knew her. And he knew that it would change nothing. She would stand behind her sentiments.

But that also meant he’d have nothing to lose by trying again, didn't it?

“Thorin?”

He didn't start at the sound of Dís’ voice, didn't turn away from where he gazed. “What is it?”

“Are you going to just spend the rest of your days up here?”

“I’m in no mood for a lecture, Dís.” Now he turned toward her, shaking his head. “So spare us both, if you don't mind.”

“I received word from Elisin that she made it safely back to Ered Luin.”

“I care not what becomes of her,” he replied flatly, shaking his head. “Because of her, I’ve lost—” His throat squeezed shut and he shook his head again. “You know what I’ve lost.”

“Perhaps there is one here you might—”

Now his gut roiled. “There is none,” he replied, his voice low. “I would rather die alone.”

“Thorin,” her hand came to rest on his shoulder, “surely, in time, when this is all but a bitter memory, you will be open to choosing another.”

“I want no one else.”

“Well, of course you don’t now. This is all so fresh and raw. But, in time, when the wound heals, you may feel differently.” Her fingers tightened on him. “And of the two of us, who knows this better?”

She had a point. She’d lost her husband, Vili, at Khazad-dûm, so she did indeed know of which she spoke. Even so, he wasn’t in a generous mood, growling, “I am not you,” before turning back to stare at Dale.

“Thorin, you—”

“I am done discussing it,” he told her, stepping back from the parapet.

“But perhaps—”

“I said, I am done.” He moved around her to stride back toward the fortress. “Excuse me. I need to be alone with my thoughts for a while.”

He didn't wait for her to reply, didn't wait for her to protest, but just walked on, ignoring everyone and everything as he made his way back indoors and down to the level where the family’s apartments were.

At the far end of the corridor, he stopped and rapped on the door. “Fíli?”

“Uncle?” Footsteps sounded and then Fíli tugged open the door. “What is it?”

“I need to speak with you. Do you have a moment?”

A look of suspicion flittered across Fíli’s face, had him narrowing his blue eyes. “Why do I have the feeling I know what this is about?”

Fighting down his impatience, Thorin gesturing to the flat’s interior. “May I?”

Fíli hesitated, then nodded and stepped aside. “Of course.”

Thorin stepped into his nephew’s flat, but before he could say anything, Fíli said, “I hope you’ve not come to tell me I’m about to be crowned king.”

“Actually, I’ve come to tell you just that.”

Fíli’s eyes went wide. “But, I told you, I’m not ready for this. We’ve talked about it.”

“No one is ever ready until it happens but trust me, you can do this. And you will do this, for you will have no choice.”

As he spoke, Thorin moved to the sofa in the middle of the room and sank down onto the arm. “I don't belong here any longer,” he said after a long silence, his hands clasped between his knees. “Perhaps I never did, now that I think about it. I’ve spent more time away from Erebor than I have in it, and more time being Thorin Oakenshield than I have been King Thorin II.”

“And where does Nina Carren fit into all of this? Because I know she does somewhere, judging by the mood you’ve been in since she left.”

“She does, but that has no bearing on how I’ve felt, as I’ve been considering this decision for far longer.”

Fíli rolled his eyes. “Of course it doesn’t.”

Thorin heard the hints of derision in his nephew’s voice and while irritation flared, he managed to tamp it down. “One day, Fíli, you will understand. At least, I hope you will.”

“Well, I don't now and I don't wish to know any more than I wish to be king.”

“Fíli, listen to me,” Thorin rose, moving to stand before him, his hands on Fíli’s shoulders, “you are ready for this. I’ve made certain to prepare you as best I could and now the time has come for you to step up.”

“Uncle, I don't understand why she can’t just come and live here. In time, surely everyone will see—”

“She has no wish to spend her days having her every move and word dissected. She has no wish to have people whispering behind her back and being cold to her face and I will not put her through it. My actions were what led to Esgaroth’s destruction and why she thought to accept Azog’s bounty. So, if I wish to be with her, it cannot be here.”

“And you wish to be there more than you do here?”

Thorin slowly nodded. “I do, yes. Fíli, I want to be with her and if that means stepping down and allowing you to ascend the throne, I am fine with it. I am confident in your abilities and I’ll only be in Dale, if you need any advice.”

“Uncle, are you absolutely certain you wish to do this?”

“Again, yes. I’ve given this much thought. Do you think I would make such a decision rashly?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then you should trust I know what I’m doing.”

“Thorin, I—it’s a big responsibility.”

“Believe me,” Thorin replied with a grin, “I am well aware of what it is. All too well aware, in fact. But, you are ready. I trust you, Fíli.”

“And if I have any trouble?”

“Come and talk to me and I’ll assist in any way I can.”

“Do you promise this?”

Thorin chuckled. “You haven’t made me promise anything since you and your brother were children.”

“You always kept those promises.”

“And I keep this one as well. If you need me, come and call on me. And if I can help, I’ll do just that.”

A heavy sigh rose to Fíli’s lips and his shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “Then I suppose there is nothing else I can say but I will try not to disappoint you.”

“I don’t think you ever needed to worry about that, Fíli. You’ve never disappointed me.”

“Not even when I stepped off the boat back in Esgaroth?”

“No. You were concerned with your brother and rightfully so.”

Fíli met his gaze, his eyes more serious than Thorin had ever seen and in that instant, he knew he was leaving Erebor in the most capable of hands. That Fíli wasn't overconfident and arrogant enough to believe he knew everything there was to know about everything. 

“Are you certain I’m ready?”

“Fíli, there is no one else in whose hands I would feel comfortable leaving Erebor. You are ready and you will be fine.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you.”

“You will be, in time.” Thorin leaned in to press his forehead to Fíli’s. “And I am not so far away, remember. You will be welcome to call any time.”

Fíli nodded. “I hope so.”

“You will be. I promise. Now,” Thorin straightened up and stepped back, “I should go find your mother and tell her.”

“She will not be pleased.”

“No, she won’t. But, she will get over it in time.” He smiled as he moved to the door. “I leave Erebor in the safest of hands. You’re ready, Fíli. I wouldn’t step down if I didn't believe that.”

Fíli looked as if he was going to say something, but then, lips pressed together, simply nodded. Thorin understood. He felt the same. But, he had to face Dís and so he might as well just get it over with.

“Nina? Are you up?”

“I am, yes.” Nina turned away from the window at Sigrid’s gentle rap on her closed door. “Come in, if you like.”

The door swung open with a gentle squeak of slightly rusted hinges and Sigrid stood at the threshold. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine. Numb, I suppose.”

“Still no word from Thorin?”

She shook her head. “I don’t expect any, Sig. He knows deep down, a match between us would never work. Not now. It would have been difficult enough as it was, but once everyone in Erebor learned the truth about me? Impossible.”

“Well, he could have fought harder for you.”

“No, he couldn't have.” Nina brushed by her friend as she made her way out into the sitting area. “I wouldn’t let him. He’s not stepping down for me, of all people. That would be madness.”

“Why do you do that, Nina? Why do you think so little of yourself that you see yourself as worthless?”

“It’s enough I’m of Man. It’s enough that I’m from Esgaroth, the younger daughter of a poor fisherman. But, I tried to collect the bounty on his head, Sig. You know that. And you know that something like that is rather difficult to forget or ignore.” 

She moved to the fire, crackling softly on the kitchen hearth, and hung the half-full kettle to heat the water in it. “He is their king and I would have assassinated him. They would never think they could trust me, no matter how long I might be around them. They would always look at me and wonder and whisper and if Thorin should be injured or be taken ill? Just imagine what would happen.”

Leaning against the sofa’s back, Sigrid sighed, crossing her arms. “They would realize how foolish they were when he didn't end up dead.”

“Ah, but what family, royal or otherwise, would be willing to take that chance?” Nina offered up a long look that brought a hint of color to Sigrid’s otherwise fair cheeks. “It’s rather difficult to fault anyone for not wishing to risk that.”

“Oh, I know, But… I know you, too. And honestly, if you were going to kill him, you had ample opportunity between here and Rivendell. They are mad to ignore that.”

“I know. And I said as much, but still… the risk, you know.”

“Well, I think it terribly unfair.”

“That’s because you are biased.” The kettle began whistling, so she lifted it from the fire to pour into the teapot, then added the tea to let it steep. 

“Nina, would you have truly ended his life?”

“At first?” Nina nodded. “I absolutely would have, yes. I was so angry with him for what happened that night Smaug torched Esgaroth. I was angry with him over losing Lenna and Rhys and Ena, for losing my mother. I would have happily done it for nothing, but Tarog’s bounty was a nice bonus.”

She sank into one of the chairs, her hands folded as they came to rest against the tabletop. “But, it didn't take long for me to realize he wasn't evil. He hadn’t meant to unleash a dragon on us, and he wasn't well when he did it. And the more I came to know him, the less I wanted revenge. Besides, what purpose would it have served? My family is still gone. And once I realized that, it wasn't much longer until I saw him in a different light as well.”

Sigrid sat across from her. “This is the part I like.”

“And then we were in Mirkwood and… there is something magical about that wood. Not the same sort of magic as one feels in Rivendell, and some of it is dark magic, but where it’s white?” Nina sighed softly, memories of her first kiss with Thorin, there in the woods, sliding through her mind. “It’s almost as if the forest itself played a role in bringing us together. And it was so wonderful, you know?”

“No,” Sigrid shook her head, a knowing smile on her lips, “I don't know at all. I live vicariously through you, remember.”

Nina chuckled despite her heavy heart. “I know, but trust me, it was wonderful. All of it. And somehow, I don't think it could ever be recaptured. And I know I have no wish to recapture it with anyone else.”

Sigrid reached over to cover Nina’s hands with hers. “Perhaps in time, you’ll feel differently.”

“No,” Nina replied softly, shaking her head, “I won’t. Thorin ruined me for any other men, Sig. It’s that simple.”

Sigrid’s hand tightened over hers and despite her sunken spirits, Nina appreciated Sigrid’s efforts. It had been such a long time since she’d had any friends, and finding Sigrid helped her in so many ways since her return to this part of Middle Earth. 

With that, she drew her hands away and stood to fix her tea, and as she did, Sigrid also rose. “Harald will be wanting to know when you plan on coming back to work. What should I tell him?”

“I’ll come in tomorrow if he needs me to. I’ve had enough time off to wallow and he’s been more than patient with me.”

“Fair enough. Then I will see you later. Don’t wallow too much longer.”

Wisps of steam curled away from the tea’s shimmering surface and Nina smiled as she lifted the cup. “I’ll do my best. Go, before you’re late.”

“I am.” The laugh accompanying her words faded when she pulled open the door and Nina’s heart nearly leapt from her chest when Sigrid said, “Thorin? What are you doing here?”

Her mouth went dry as she rounded the corner to the front of the sitting room and saw Thorin in the doorway beyond Sigrid. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, his clothes wrinkled and rumpled, his braids not quite so smooth as they usually were. Purplish smudges darkened beneath his eyes and his beard was not so neatly kept. He looked how she felt and her heart pounded with such force, black dots actually danced before her eyes. 

Somehow, she unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth to murmur, “Thorin, why are you here?”

“Because I’ve found I don’t care to be in Erebor if you aren’t there, mesmel,” he replied as if Sigrid didn't stand between them, his voice no louder than hers and she wondered if his heart raced in his chest, if black dots swam before his eyes as well. “I’ve found I don't care for much when I am there and you are here and we need to fix that. Now.”

Blooms of color rose along Sigrid’s high cheekbones. “I’ll just let the two of you be,” she said, squeezing past Thorin.

Her pulse thundering in her ears, Nina swallowed hard and stepped back into the sitting room. “Come in, please.”

He did, closing the door behind him and as it clicked shut, she said, “Does anyone know you’re here? Or will your legions break down my door, convinced I’ve beheaded you or something?”

“No one will be breaking down any doors,” he replied softly, “unless the king orders it.”

“And you haven’t, I’ll suppose.”

He held her gaze. “I haven’t, but then again, I am no longer the king.”

She just stared at him, for there was no way he’d said what she thought he’d said. He did not abdicate his throne. He’d have to be mad to do something like that. She must’ve heard him wrong, and so she waited for him to clarify. 

But instead, he offered up a hint of a smile. “I thought you’d brain me for doing it, mesmel.”

“You did not do that, Thorin.”

“But I did. Fíli is now the king of Erebor.”

“Have you gone completely mad?”

“Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time, you know.”

“Thorin, you cannot do that. You cannot not be the king any longer.”

“Of course I can and before you fight me on it, know this, I’ve thought about this longer and harder than any other decision I’ve ever made. And I am at peace with my choice. It was the only one I could make.”

“But… to abdicate… Thorin, I can’t let you do this.”

“Much as I adore you, Nina, you have no say in it. The decision was mine and I’ve made it.”

“But—”

“No but, either.”

“But—”

“I mean it.”

“Thorin, why?”

“Because, I’d rather be here, with you, than sitting on a throne by myself. That’s why.”

Her eyes stung and she swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat. “But, Erebor was what you sought for so long. It’s why you crossed from one end of Middle Earth to the other.”

“It was.” he nodded as he reached for her, snaking his arms about her waist. “And I found it. But, in my last trek from one end of Middle Earth to the other, I found something far more important.”

“But how can you be certain you wont’t regret it?”

“Nina, I know myself well enough now to know what I might regret and above all else, losing you is my greatest regret.”

She didn't resist as he drew her to his chest, but instead let her arms drape about his neck. Part of her couldn’t believe he was there, that he’d given up so much for her, of all people. The other part of her wanted to throttle him for giving up so much for her, of all people.

“So, what will you do now?”

“I supported myself and Dís and the boys by working as a blacksmith in Ered Luin. I can do that again right here, or we can travel about and if we find somewhere else we prefer to live, I can do it there. We would be fine.”

“We?”

“We.” His eyes softened. “For you have to know I still wish to marry you. Because I do, you know. I love you, Nina.” 

But before she could say anything, he bent to her and his lips found hers in a kiss that began soft and gentle, but quickly deepened. She melted against him, tightening her hold on him and when he swept her up into his arms, she drew back far enough to whisper, “The door on your left,” and let him spirit her to her room. 

They fell together on her narrow bed, just as they’d done in the infirmary in Erebor. Only this time, Nina didn't worry about being overheard. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Thorin smiling down at her as he murmured, “So, will you marry me now, mesmel?”

And all that mattered was how she smiled back at him and whispered, “Yes.”

The End

[misty--nights]

I had to pause the rewatch to work on my fics for the appreciation week, but now that that's done with, I'm back. And so, onto episode 4, my beloved. This is my absolute favorite episode of the season so I'm ridiculously excited to watch it again.

Niko's rent envelope has cat and flower stickers, and little dollar signs and hearts drawn on it. I love this girl so much

Jenny's nails are painted like metallic purple. I don't know why, but this brings me a lot of joy. I like the idea of her and Niko eventually doing their nails together, since they both keep pretty nails. It would be a bonding activity

I always thought Dagfinn was wearing suspenders, but it looks like he's wearing coveralls over his sweater

Even if there are no bodies to be found, does no one realize the people who jumped into the sea are missing?

Dagfinn says the magic eight ball tells you exactly when you're going to die, but that is not true. Like, yest, it says outlook not so good before Niko dies, but by her reaction after the explosion we know that the ball isn't exact. It predicts that she might not make it out alive from that whole thing, but it isn't exact. Basically what I'm saying is that I don't think that magic eight ball is as special as he makes it sound

Also, Dagfinn specifically says that the ghosts are jumping towards the sound, so does that mean he can hear Angie too? Of the kids, only Crystal hears it, and the others only notice something in the water because they see Angie's light

Honestly, with the way the police acted towards the girls reporting the leaper and the doctor that "treated" Niko after her collapse in episode 2, I'm starting to think there is something more going on with the people of Port Townsend. Dagfinn says the police won't do anything because there are no bodies, but are you seriously telling me that no one noticed the leapers going missing? Is it part of Angie's powers or something? I feel like a conspiracy theorist here, but you can't tell me there's nothing weird with the way the people in this town act about odd occurrences (and I know I'm skipping ahead, but with Brad and Hunter, are you seriously telling me there was no autopsy or anything after they died? The police just found these kids dead after a party, looked at them and said "yep, must have drank too much, no need to investigate further"? I don't know, there's just something weird about the way the town acts sometimes)

After the Cat King put the spell on him, Edwin physically tries to keep the words from coming out You can see him swallow them before he is forced to say them. I'm a sucker for this kind of trope tbh, so I'm living for it

I wish we got to find out more about Asha. Like, she can't just be a regular human right? Her portrait of Lilith is perfect, and she had the way to contact the Washer Woman written in one of her drawings. I know she said she was on drugs when she did those, but there has to be more to her, right?

Crystal's boots have flowers painted on them???? That's so cute! I love her. Do they come like that or do you think she painted them herself? Cause that would be amazing

Love the fact that the characters can ask the Washer Woman all they want, but the moment they ask for a non-riddle answer they are sent back. Like, Crystal gets to say "I don't know what that means" and "I don't understand" after hearing her riddle, but the second she starts asking for a direct answer she is thrown out of that realm thingy. Hilarious. I love the Washer Woman so much and the idea of her pettily sending people away because they won't accept the riddle is so funny to me

Edwin is still holding the red sea glass after they return from the Washer Woman, so theoretically they could have given Tragic Mick that very same sea glass. It might no have worked, but still, point is that they still had it

Jenny has a tattoo of a meat cleaver on her hand. That is the most Jenny thing that I have ever seen. I can't really see what the rest of that tattoo is, though, but regardless. Love her dedication to her brand

Have to love Edwin leaving Crystal to rummage through the garbage with Charles when ghosts wouldn't get dirty like she does. Monty is one hell of a distraction. On that same note, why is Niko the one putting the meat on the music box when either boy could have done it without getting their hands dirty?

Niko just puts on gloves after handling the meat huh? She dusts her hands a little and then puts on gloves, like her hands weren't fully red from the blood a second before

Niko's pants have a white flower embroidered (?) on the side. A little detail, but I always thought her whole outfit was plain color with no added things besides the mushrooms on her hat

The Night Nurse has like a reading light clipped to her book that she uses to dramatically light her face when she's telling Charles that the world sucks and he should move onto his afterlife

Love that after Charles' flashback is done the Night Nurse asks Edwin what trauma he'd like to relieve. What do you think his worse trauma is? His time in hell maybe? Why the fuck would he want to leave the world? I get why she would ask Charles and why she would show him his trauma from his time alive, but Edwin? It would have made no sense for her to try to convince him to go with her by showing him his trauma

I mentioned on the episode 3 details that Edwin doesn't flinch much in the Devlin house, but he's the first to flinch when Charles hits the Night Nurse, and actually gasps and calls Charles' name after the second hit. It must be a terrible shock for him, seeing good, smiley Charles like this, so angry and vicious against someone. Even if Charles calls himself the brawn, this is different, worse. He's probably never seen his friend like that, which only lends more credibility to what Crystal has been telling him. Maybe he doesn't know Charles as well as he's always thought

After Charles falls down crying, the other three share a look in the background, like they're trying to decide who should go comfort him

[twincaptains]

Obsequium: Part I: Chapter Two - Dipper's September

TITLE: Obsequium Part I: Chapter Two: Dipper’s September PAIRINGS:  Dipford (Ford x Dipper), Bipford, (Bipper x Ford), regular Billford (Bill x Ford) Pinecest (Dipper x Mabel), Stancest, (Stan x Ford), and possibly others. SUMMARY: Dipper writes to Mabel about his experiences back in Gravity Falls. He’s learning a lot! He is also suffering. I’m not sure he’s okay, actually. NOTES: I am posting to Tumblr for now, but eventually will be cross-posting to Ao3. I am in line to get an account, and should have one by the end of the month. Warnings for this chapter – as well as for the rest of the story – under the cut!

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drug abuse, caregiver neglect, mind control OVERALL WARNINGS: Incest, sibling incest, minor, coercive control, mind control, caregiver neglect, physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, dubious consent (dubcon), body horror, suicidal ideation, food restriction, sleep deprivation, self-harm, drug abuse, being drugged, lost time, and I’m going to specifically going to warn for “Ford being cruel to Stanley”, because it made me upset when I wrote it so I want to warn for it. If I forgot anything, please let me know and I will fix it IMMEDIATELY. I will add more if anything else comes up.   Chapter One is here!!

-

Sunday, September 4th Heyyyy Mabel!

I'm currently trudging around the woods looking for the source of a mysterious voice. What could go wrong, right? In all seriousness this thing is getting annoying. We'd at least like to find the source, if not a way to get it to be quiet.

I miss you already. It's kinda the worst. Even worse, I can't say that out loud or I'll get a stupid lecture. I love Great Uncle Ford, I really do, but he relates to other people the way a zookeeper relates to their animals. I'm not sure he's ever actually really loved anyone or anything. If he did, he forgot how along the way. I get that he's probably done that to protect himself, but what happens when we finish our work and there's nobody there to clap? I'm slowly trying to reason with him, but he is stubborn. More stubborn than Grunkle Stan, if you can believe that.

I'm really sorry I talked your ear off about that girl I have a crush on. I just hoped you knew what I should do, because I certainly don't. It's true, I can't ever tell her. She can never ever know how I feel. I think I'd literally die, and she'd never speak to me again and I don't think I could handle that. I get to spend so little time around her already that I don't want to risk it. Still. I can't stop thinking about her, even now, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with wet socks and a dwindling supply of trail mix. So I figured ... hey. Why not write to Mabel?

I'm going to try and be more consistent with my letters this fall. I know I tend to sink into my work and time gets away from me, but I've already sat down and marked days in my planner to set time aside to write to you. I've also set eight million reminders in my PDA. Rumor has it that we might be getting an upgraded cell tower in town soon, which means I'll FINALLY be able to TIMEFACE you like a PROPER RESIDENT of the TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY!!!!!

I hope you're doing well in school; I know that math is hard but I believe in you. You just have to try your best, that's all. Your best is always good enough.

Anyway, back to the woods. Hurrah.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 8th

S'up S'up S'up Maaaaaaaaaybeeeeee

So my week has already been weird. Apparently while I was gone, Great Uncle Ford made me this wild VR helmet that's helping me get my mind off that girl I like. I have to admit, it's kinda weird? It's function and purpose is actually a little dystopian, if I'm being honest, but it's really doing the trick for me right now so I'll question it years later when I'm unpacking this portion of my life to a therapist.

It's really freed up my mind in a way that I never thought was possible. Do you remember me telling you I was stuck on some of my school stuff? I got through it this afternoon no problem, like I'd known how to do it the entire time. Breakthroughs like that feel amazing, and are why I keep trying even when I'm struggling with something. I don't know how much I can credit to the VR helmet, or how much to credit myself, but somewhere in the middle I'm really starting to get a grip over here. As long as I don't trip and fall, I should be golden.

Bill's influence is still all over the place. I really hate it. I have tried, time and time again, to talk to Great Uncle Ford about my experiences with Bill and how they've messed me up, but he doesn't really seem interested. Or rather, it makes him actively uncomfortable. I don't know what he's hiding about his relationship with Bill, but it makes him want to throw up. I don't know who he thinks he's fooling, but it’s kinda obvious, right? Am I imagining things? They had a thing, right? Why wouldn't he want me to know that? We also had a thing ... sorta ... it's not like I wouldn't understand??? He just doesn't want to tell me too much. He doesn’t trust me.

Why not??????

I've worked insanely hard to prove myself and even now he still keeps me juuuust outside of the loop. It's really starting to grind my gears, I'm almost an adult and I should be treated like one. I'll just keep being a Good Little Assistant until he lets me inside of his head. Things will only improve from there.

I think I'm gonna try and sneak a nap. I'm weirdly tired lately, maybe it's the light changing.

Love, Dip

-

Monday, September 12th

Yo! Mabel!

I'm sinking my teeth into some new subjects for school and I'm having a really great time with it so far! I get to make three-dimensional models that have hidden fourth, fifth, and sixth dimensional sides -- it's absolutely wild and I cannot wait to start arranging my first array. You know how I feel about complex shapes, I'm going to have an amazing time with this.

Things with hidden dimensions are just so cool, Mabel. I think you'd really like them, because they're so beautiful -- like genuinely pretty. They remind me of how you doodle in your notebooks, especially in the margins. Can you doodle in the margins of your next reply a bit? Dumb thing to ask, I know, but I miss them. I even miss them showing up in MY notebooks. I'm sorry if I ever yelled at you for doing that.

To answer your questions about the VR Helmet: 1. It's called the OBSEC... bunchanumbers. Nothing cool. 2. I have no idea how it works, I just know what it does. 3. What it does is kinda really embarrassing, so I'm gonna try and do my best to get my point across without passing out or throwing this letter in the garbage. Basically, it lets you sorta play through little... scenarios, anything you could think of, and along with that comes a certain level of .... biochemical involvement. That is to say, your brain pumps a bunch of feel-good chemicals into your bloodstream because it thinks you're doing something fun -- even though you're really not! This is helping me become more focused and less distracted by my teenaged-boyness. Obviously, given my performance at school lately. Feels like I'm cheating the system somehow??? But I think that's the entire point.

One more thing: Have you been calling Grunkle Stan at all? He seems really, really lonely. Worse than usual. He's been leaving Great Uncle Ford messages on his answering machine this whole time, but in the last few months he's gone from calling a few times a week, to calling every day, sometimes twice. Great Uncle Ford won't even listen to the messages, he makes me delete them for him. Playing armchair psych here; I think he feels kinda bad about what a jerk he's being, but isn't ready to admit that yet. Hearing Stan's voice, and knowing that Stan refuses to just ... hate him the way Great Uncle Ford wants him to ... it's starting to get to him. I see cracks like that here and there, which is why I'm not giving up hope that they can maybe patch things up someday. I think Great Uncle Ford needs to figure out that he can trust us, and that he'll be safe here if he does.

Anyway. Miss you, love you ... all that stuff.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 15th

Mabel

I wanna die right now. My unyeilding rage won't allow it.

I was really getting into my coursework, and I asked Great Uncle Ford if he had anything to keep me up a bit longer because I felt like I was close to figuring something out and didn't want to lose it if I went to bed. I see him take stuff all the time, and he had no qualms about handing me ... something.

What I expected was Adderall. Or at least, something LIKE that, you know?? I took those for years! They caused more problems than they solved, sure, but that was because I was taking them long-term. This was supposed to be a one-off thing, a normal all-nighter.

It was not like that. It was not like that at all.

Worst anxiety attack of my life. I don't have the capacity to calculate exactly how long I was awake? But it was too long, and I'm mad that I'm awake right now.

The worst part about all of this? Great Uncle Ford acted like this was somehow MY fault. Like I'm some kind of wimp for reacting badly to mystery space drugs. Like I lied to him about what I could tolerate, or something. He just stood there and huffed at me, shaking his head and asking me "Are you done?" about every 15 minutes.

I'm currently not speaking to him. At least not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. He resents that I'm angry at him for not giving me any type of warning about what that drug was about to do to me, I assumed I was about to become awake and alert -- not achieve nirvana by being fired out of a canon at mach fuck straight into a glass wall. Very annoyed. Very annoyed that he's acting this way.

I think I'm going to have to get him back for this, somehow. I'll need to bide my time, but he'll regret the way he tutted at me like I was some kind of preschooler throwing a tantrum.

Love, Dip

-

Sunday, September 18th

-Maybee Baby- Ms. Mabel Mack,

Got a little sick and tired of the mood in the house being so chilly, so I offered an olive branch of sorts: using my audio equipment to try and capture those whispers we keep hearing. Great Uncle Ford said we should go out looking for them (I think he was just hoping to change the subject), and I countered with staying near the house and using my stuff to make sure we're hearing what we think we're hearing.

I was right, we didn't need to go out in the woods. We heard a lot last night, and I definitely got some on my recorders. Enough, in fact, that it was worth coming out for a second night. That's what I'm doing now, well, that and writing to you.

The whispers are making me uneasy, but in a way that makes me want to keep pursuing them, you know? I feel like that once I figure them out, a lot of other things will start to make sense. Not exactly THE answers I'm looking for, but the thing that's going to set me on the path that takes me to them. For the time being I'm grateful they've been getting us out of the house. I spent so much of the summer inside and underground. You saw me! Was I the crimson adonis I usually am? No. Pale as dough. And I'm only going to get paler as winter creeps in. I may be translucent by Christmas.

You said you've been e-mailing some old friends? Heard back from anyone? I sometimes run into people when I go into town, but nobody seems to want to talk to me. I think they're mad, and I guess they have a right to be, but it really reinforces how alone I am out here. I honestly thought it would take me less than a year to get Great Uncle Ford to see the light and reconcile with Grunkle Stan.

I really miss you.

Love,

   D I      P -

Tuesday, September 20th

Mabel

I'm so fucking angry right now that I want to scream. Grateful for the Screaming Closet Great Uncle Ford installed the first summer we were here, I'll tell you that much. I had to try and keep calm and be reasonable so that I didn't explode, WHICH WAS THE WORST.

UGH.

Oh. My god.

I caught him researching restraining orders. You can guess why, and for who. I don't even want to put it in writing because it's just going to make me angry all over again. I can't fucking believe him.

I don't know what it is, but he seems extra moody and distant lately -- and get this, he accuses me of the same thing. Yeah, you know what? I AM a little peevish. Miffed, even. And lately he's doing and saying things that make me not want to be around him, so I've been distant. I also have a lot on my mind that has nothing to do with anything in particular, but it's taking up time and space so I'm a little short on change for the Putting Up With His Bullshit Express.

As if that weren't enough, guess who's analyzing ALL of the audio we recorded over the weekend by himself? I had three devices running for almost 20 hours total over two days. Ghost Hunter Plumbers don't have to work under these conditions. Neither do the guys from Dudebro Ghost Show. He could very easily help but he is choosing not to, and I think that's what makes me the maddest, out of all of it.

He isn't great with computers? Not hopeless, but very rigid and unwilling to exit his comfort zone, which is a weird combination of things we haven't done in 30 years and things we won't be doing for another 200. I don't think my Fruitbook would be that hard to figure out, they're made to be intuitive, but what's intuitive for everyone else generally isn't for Great Uncle Ford. I think he gets embarrassed about that and would rather pretend it's beneath him than reveal he's bad at it.

Lots to think about. Aiee.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 22nd

Mabelfish,

I'm doing a lot better, thanks. Especially since someone sent me a five pound bag of blue raspberry BubbHeddz.

Thank you, by the way.

I'm finishing up my analysis of all that audio I recorded, and I wish I could say I felt good about it. There is a message buried in the sounds we've been hearing, flipped and reversed -- so that we'd have to work to find it. The weirdest part is that I know, deep down inside, that this message isn't for me. It's for Great Uncle Ford.

"You'll trip and fall right in to me."

Is this why he's been acting weird lately? Is he at risk of a Bill relapse? I dunno. I almost don't want to tell him, but I know I should. Who knows, maybe this will shift his focus away from being mean to Grunkle Stan and back to being mean to Bill.

I'm gonna sleep on these findings and see how they feel in the morning.

Love, Dip

-

Monday, September 26th

Mabes,

I went a little longer than I usually like to without writing, but I was on a roll with my schoolwork. I haven't felt that 'in-the-zone' in a REALLY long time. Up until the end of last year, I hadn't really had much trouble with anything Great Uncle Ford threw at me. These last few subjects though, woof. I know they're going to be important later on, at least -- that's what Great Uncle Ford says, and I kinda have to trust him on that.

Shame that trusting him is harder and harder to do lately, but what can you do?

In addition to advancing my studies, we had to do some cleanup around the property. It's funny, I used to hate doing stuff like that, but I had a great time being outside and getting fresh air. I still ache in places I didn't even know it was possible to ache, but it's a GOOD ache, one that accomplished something. It certainly keeps my body from acting in ways I don't want it to.

Not that that's a problem I usually have! My body is definitely fine and I am in complete control of it at all times. But between my sleep being all weird and that pill I took earlier this month, I feel a little less than square sometimes. I'd like to say stress is also a factor, but with the OBSEC-8177 I'm not really experiencing a whole lot of stress. When I do, it's temporary, and usually Great Uncle Ford's fault.

I think you'd like the OBSEC-8177 a lot. If you're ever allowed to visit here you can give it a try. I doubt Great Uncle Ford would let me take something like this out of the house, so you'd have to come here. We should figure out a way to make that happen.

Love, Diiip

-

Thursday, September 29th

Maybe it's Mabel,

Against my better judgement, I'm sitting here decoding more audio. Great Uncle Ford grabbed my recording devices and started rolling when I stepped inside for a little bit and, unfortunately, he caught some things.

More backmasked talking, and it makes me feel kinda gross. It's nothing particularly threatening, though definitely threatening, it's just layered with a certain level of ... familiarity, I'll call it. It kinda comes off as flirty?? But that doesn't seem right, does it? Maybe I can somehow regain access to my e-mail and I can send you these clips so you can see what I mean.

It is 100% Bill, by the way. It wouldn't be the first time we've received weird little voice notes from him, but these are different than anything we've encountered in the past. Real "the call is coming from inside the house" vibes: "Don't be so sure." and "I'm closer than you think." Personally, I think we should stop engaging ... but Bill is making that hard. I have found that vocally acknowledging these noises makes them quiet down for a bit, but the longer you go without confronting them the louder they become. I think we should probably try and figure out a way to fortify the house a bit better? Hard to bring that kind of thing up, because Great Uncle Ford gets really tetchy if you imply something he's done isn't good enough.

Can it be Thanksgiving yet?

Love, Dip

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

4th of July Reruns: Independence Day

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2082

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious 

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight 

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

 @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: This fic was originally posted to my Fluffy Fridays collection sometime around season 6. At the time, it was a "future fic", but now it is more of a slight canon divergence. With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

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

Independence Day

CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains.  It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it.  But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business.  (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.)  It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things.  The 4th of July is coming up.  Let’s do it up right.  Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma.  “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying.  “It’s Independence Day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in.  Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions.  Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything.  Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting.  Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher. 

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated.  “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”.  There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest.  Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions.  It only led to confusion and headaches.  Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings.  Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks.  After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get used to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian spread out a blanket on the hill overlooking town on the evening of the 4th of July.  Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she always had at the ready lately.  With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?”  Killian asked as he sat beside her.  “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement.  It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display.  “Are you serious?”  Henry asked.  “You’ve never seen fireworks?  Fireworks have been around for like…ever.  I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest.  I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged.  “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them.  And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured.  “They’re colorful and sparkly.  Sometimes they have special designs.  Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound.  And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked.  “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug.  “I don’t know how it works.  I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said.  “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did.  Emma should have known.  It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd.  A hot one, for sure, but a nerd nonetheless.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder.  “I’m sure everything is totally safe.  Leroy’s got everything organized.  Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky.  Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him.  Now was one of those times.  She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern.  As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said.  “It’s perfect.  All of this is perfect.  I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display.  Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music.  It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner.  “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding?  The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before.  What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States.  That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile?  Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven.  “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said.  “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce).  Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812.  Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned.  “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library.  I already have to suffer through history lessons in school.  Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but then any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again).  The moment was just about here.  As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show.  She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was.  They hadn’t talked much about it.  This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened.  What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath.  “Something’s actually pretty great.  At least I hope you think it is.  I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear.  “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly.  “A father?  I’m to be a father?  You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously.  “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along.  Are you…are you happy about it?  I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly.  When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes.  “How can you even ask that, Swan?  Of bloody course I’m happy.  A baby!  A product of our love!  I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him again, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

[powderblueblood]

powder my love would u ever bless us with a hai universe cass finnigan bonus episode bc i’m an eddie-took-her-anal-virginity truther until i die and lord what i wouldn’t give to see that written in ur spectacular way…call it morbid fascination and also and as well additionally: me being a dirty fucking whore

sweets baby i've got good news and i've got bad news, eddie unfortunately did nort take cass's anal virginity (she and mikey b have been backdooring for quite some time now) but there were certain... differences that cass wasn't quite prepared for! minors dni as always fuck off, warnings for smut (anal, premature ejaculation), cass being an asshole no pun intended (but i believe she felt mad guilty after this), embarrassing sexual situations (cumming early is nothing to be ashamed of, but consider who we're dealing with), eddie feeling shitty :( part of the hellfire & ice universe

HAWKINS, INDIANA. AUGUST 1984-ISH, SOMETHING LIKE THAT

Cass Finnigan is having a weird year.

It's what she keeps saying, mostly because it's what people keep telling her-- because that's kind of Cass's bag. She listens to what people tell her with a keen ear and an open heart and not very much consideration for the consequences. She takes direction very well, according to her drama teacher and her choir director and her friend Lacy and, most importantly, her boyfriend Mikey B.

So, when Mikey B said they should take a break, she said, okay! And when her parents said they were getting a divorce, she was like, if you think that's for the best! And when her church elders told her that her parents' divorce would be seen as a blight in their otherwise idyllic Christian household, she agreed because He does know better than we do! And when Lacy said she should maybe think about hooking up with other people, on the level this time, not as a drunken extracurricular, Cass said, you are so right.

"Just for the... fourth or fifth time, are you absolutely, positively sure about this?"

That's pretty much how Cass ends up ass up in the back of Eddie Munson's van on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.

Shifting her hips back, she scoffs. It's a high, tufted sound because Cass is a high, tufted kind of girl. Definitely high right now, anyway.

"Munson. Are you seriously asking me to second guess you putting your dick in my butt?"

"Salient point. Roger that. Sorry. Just... tryin' not to be... like, a d-- a dick." Unimaginative choice of words for him. "Sorry."

Fuck Cass Finnigan's weird year. Eddie Munson is having a weird freakish immediate right now.

There he balances, floor of the van digging ridges into his kneecaps through the holes in his denim jeans. Said jeans are slung past his narrow hips, along with his boxers, the worn elastic of the waistband tucked pretty snug under his balls.

Eddie's holding his dick with consideration. Like he's about to give the little (hah!) man a pep talk.

Don't fuck this up for me, okay? When we get in there, fucking pace it out, alright? I'm serious, man. It might feel like you want to geyser out the second we squeeze on in--oh god--but be cool, okay?

Forty minutes ago, he'd met Cass in a clearing near the usual pick-up spot, one big enough that he could haul the van into. Eddie usually hated being near the orbit of Hawkins High during summer vacation--something about a work life balance--but then work comes calling and, y'know, it's kind of the most inconspicuous place in town.

Cass'd been nervous; Eddie noticed that, out of the rotating faces of that particular friend group, she'd never been saddled with the task of picking up for them before. Well, she and that Lacy chick, but Eddie had reason enough to believe she wouldn't be caught dead.

"Uh, you wanna hop in a sec?" Eddie'd hesitated, regarding the raindrops bouncing off Cass in her pink plastic parka, "It's really comin' down out there."

"Sure. Just for a sec."

Cass was twitchy, but keen. She and her big eggshell blue eyes darted around the back of his van, probably noting every flaw in the interior so she could report back to her clique later.

But then she sat all criss-cross applesauce and was like, "How's your summer vacation going?" Delivered in the clipped monotone of someone just making small talk, but delivered all the same.

They swapped a couple of same Hawkins, different day type sentiments, and stilted as it was, it wasn't entirely terrible.

Inexplicably, it made Eddie be all, "Would the lady care for a sample?" like he's a fucking weed sommelier.

Which, in a manner of speaking and if the manner is ditch weed, he kind of is.

Twenty minutes in, and Cass was already feeling it. Her blue eyes were closing into a squint and that squint kept studying him. Rolling him over in her gaze, kinda like he was one of those optical illusions she couldn't quite figure out.

Eddie, despite himself (or so he'd like to think), felt heat rising in his cheeks. Something about this had an encroaching sense of familiarity.

"What?" he mumbled, ashing the joint into an empty soda can.

Cass leaned back, heels of her palms supporting her and pushing her chest out just so. "You think I'm pretty, don't you?"

Admittedly, that kinda put a hitch in the spell she was attempting to cast. Jesus, these sweater monkeys and their indefatigable egos. Eddie's eyes involuntarily rolled. "No. I think you're a dog. The blonde hair and the perky tits do nothing for me, honestly. Soft as a monk."

Now, here would be an opportunity to volley back, to fold humor into one's foreplay like cheese into an omelette but Cass E. Finnigan, god bless her (and she is blessed), does not have her eye on Eddie's preferred ball.

"Yah, but you think I'm pretty like, you wanna..."

But he is still, fallibly, a guy edging toward kinda stoned and pliable.

"I wanna..."

And she is still, fallibly, a very hot, slightly stoned, inattentive girl.

"You wanna fuck me."

And instead of a gaze, it was more like a glaze, like a well-practiced Skinemax impression that Cass had whipped out as a party piece. She removed her pink plastic parka with unnecessarily seductive precision, and through the haze, it had occurred to Eddie that he hasn't ever really entered Cass Finnigan in his rogue's gallery of jerk-off material.

Maybe that was an oversight.

Because now, in this moment, in this ticking time bomb of a second, he's staring, like, right down the barrel of her asshole.

Dick in hand.

Eddie's hard, of course, even though he kind of feels like he shouldn't be? Not in a forbidden way that would usually get his blood thumping, hard in a way that kind of feels like an imposition. Like, there should have been more lead up to this. Like, Cass should have kissed him. Or he her. Or something.

I mean, she didn't even turn around to look at his dick. It's kinda rude.

She, right out of Penthouse Forum, just sort of flipped her skirt and shimmied her underwear and leaned forward and presented herself and demanded he get his cock out and then she was starting to sing his tune but now he's just staring at her. The back of her. Poised and peaches and cream and perfect, sure, but not for him, it doesn't feel like.

Eddie's an ill-chosen accessory here. An awkwardly misplaced lamp in a room that, yeah, apparently can benefit from a lamp. But not this lamp.

Cass's asshole is very pretty, though. Her pussy, too, from what he can see. Pink and petal-y in a way he'd never seen up close in person before. (The thing with Nicole Summers humping him on a log in out by Forest Hills a couple years back hadn't exactly been an all-you-can-eat-with-your-eyes kind of affair.) Looking at it long enough makes his tip and mouth water a touch, and looking at it too long makes Cass be all, "Are you, like, okay back there?"

Eddie opens his mouth to answer but is swiftly cut off by Cass chirping, "Oops! Oh duh, you're probably like, what is she thinking--"

Fascinatingly, without even changing position, she digs around in her fuzzy little backpack and tosses a tube of KY Jelly over her shoulder. Right. Right.

Eddie squeezes out what he considers a decent amount after whacking that tube against his palm a couple times. It comes out with a flatulent puff of air. Cass has really gone through this stuff. If Eddie were a more primitive man, he might be inclined to slap Mikey B on the back and/or ass the next time he sees him.

"Not your first rodeo, huh?" he mumbles, breath uneven, smoothing the jelly over the length of himself. His eyes flutter closed under his own touch, ceasing the rhumba of Cass Finnigan wants you to fuck her in the ass Cass Finnigan wants you to fuck her in the ass Cass Finnigan wants you to fuck her in the ass for all of a half second.

"Whut?" Cass caws.

"Nothin'. Um..." Eddie's got one ambitiously lubed up hand all of a sudden. Overshot that mark. First of many. "...can--" Jesus Christ. How to sexify this deeply unsexy yet sexy situation. "--can I touch you?"

"Um, yah."

Um, okehhh, he mockingly mirrors her faux-Valley Girl accent back to himself. See, blue sky situation, Eddie would say that back to Cass and she's think he's funny, and they'd laugh together and it'd be hot but the thing about girls like Cass is they have no sense of humor about themsel--fuck, his jellied thumb feels nice sinking into her little butthole.

"Is that," fuck his stupid fucking trembling fucking voice, "does that feel okay?"

"I can't even really, like, feel it-- oh my god, that's not your dick, is it?!" Cass, in all goddamn sincerity, starts to turn around, face all hitched in a grimace that Eddie can't stand.

"No, it's not," he says, through gritted teeth, hand extracting from her ass and resting on her cheek. "It's not my fucking dick. I thought you might need-- or want, I dunno--"

"Does it usually take this long with you? Like, guys don't usually take this long to just stick it in. You know that, right?"

Mouth gaping, Eddie feels something shrink inside him. He can't tell whether it's his ego or his faith in the Hawkins male populace (not that he had much to begin with), but he's learning more and more about the kind of world Cass Finnigan orbits in as the seconds tick by.

Kinda sad, he thinks, angling himself against her ass, kinda sucks that ol' JC or MB or whoever only lets her use the back door--

A jolt smites clean through Eddie as his leaking pink tip touches Cass's puckered pink hollow. "Hnn. Mm."

Eddie pushes just a little, mouth popping back open. He feels Cass tense from the extremely tentative, extremely light grip he's got on her hip. Again, he is like full Jekyll and Hyding in the way that he feels like he's intruding on his own sexual encounter yet completely turgid from tip to taint.

It's so weird. That joint wasn't laced with anything, was it?

"You okay?" he asks, voice a squeak of urgency.

"Yh--yah," Cass says, but there's hesitance. Like she's almost about to ask him if he's okay too.

"Mind if I--" Mind if fucking I?! What am I even fucking saying? Shit, God, please, anybody, please let her say--

"Yah, sure."

Not the begging or panting he hand in mind for his first time back here, but it'll do. Eddie, slowly, ever so carefully does it, eases himself a couple more mannerly millimeters into the confines of Cass's ass--and not to suck his own dick, but this is gonna be a tight squeeze, if it'll squeeze at all. If it'll squeeze at all, oh fuck, oh please...

With a high, sharpish gasp, Cass seems to register that fact as well.

"Holy shit."

Blonde locks go flying over her shoulder as she finally tries to angle back and get a look at that certain member of the party that was of no interest to her fifteen minutes ago. How the tables fucking turn! In doing so, she accidentally thrusts back a touch, edging the reddened tip of Eddie's cock further in--

"Shit, shit, shitshitshit!" Barely an inch inside, Eddie feels his balls constrict and his back seize.

Cass snickers in a out-of-body, near ironic kind of way before winding out some direct-to-TV type whimper that someone somewhere on some planet must find attractive. Mikey B, possibly. It sounds flat to Eddie.

If she's making fun of him (she is), he isn't in the room to hear it.

All Eddie can focus on right now is sensation. The fact that if Cass moves even the tiniest iota--

"Y'know, you can like, slap me a little or something. If you w--"

"No, I-I don't-- fuck, just-- please don't fuckin' move, please don't fuckin'--"

Too goddamn late! Cass, with whatever curious shifting she's managed to do, has Eddie's throbbing, space hopping over eager bastard of a cock popping out of her asshole. The grip Eddie has on himself does no good to stem what's coming, badum-tss. With a groan, a gasp and a shudder, a pull like an anchor aweigh from the base of his belly, Eddie spills in a few hot thick ropes.

He feels a drop or two of sweat drip from the nape of his neck as he watches his hot, white, premature cum roll in a rivulet over Cass's lower back. Oh... no.

"Um."

"I am so," Eddie hasn't even got a chance to re-regulate his breath yet, and he's feeling around him for a napkin or an old t-shirt or a flunked essay, something, "so sorry, I--"

"Ew," Cass sits up, holding her skirt aloft and batting away Eddie's pleading offer of a gym sock. Which, fair enough, ew, but it makes Eddie recoil a touch. He watches as she cleans herself up with a wet wipe she grabs from that weird little monster of a backpack purse type thing she carries.

Eddie sinks back to sit on his heels, wiping himself off with the stupid old gym sock and tucking himself away. A sourness has started to sting in his gut, that post-nut clarity hitting all the harsher thanks to Cass's tiny daggered glances at him.

He's really never not gonna be an object of disgust to someone like her, is he? He can't even breach guilty pleasure status.

"So stupid," she's muttering, readjusting her underwear and smoothing out her skirt, "Last time I ever listen to that uppity bitch..."

He's just a dare bored girls give themselves on rainy August afternoons.

"We could-- if you wanted, just gimme a sec and I--" Eddie starts before he can stop mortifying himself with his own words.

"Listen!" Cass snaps, flipping her hair, "This was a gross and egregious mistake. Like, please don't get attached just because this-- I mean, what was that, like, two seconds? Dude."

Eddie is an ant. Eddie feels two specks of dust tall in this very moment of white hot humiliation. Eddie also feels like he wants to toss something back at Cass, something about her stupid fake accent or douchebag scamming boyfriend or idiot made-up Christian overlord, but Eddie also feels too small to even be mean which is the suckiest fucking part of all this right here right now.

Instead, his lips stretch into a tight smile, condescending as he can conceivably make it. Rain's still thrumming like gunshots against the roof of the van.

"Okay. Freak show's over, honey. Better get going."

"Ugh, whatever. Not a word of this, to anyone. Understood?"

"Not exactly a lot to tell."

A scoff and a snarl sees Cass Finnigan retreat back out into the rain through the van's creaking doors, and Eddie's heart sinks even further, if possible. This is not what's meant to happen in these porno-like scenarios! He's meant to send her off with a buttload of cum probably still dripping out of her, and he's meant to feel on top of the fucking world! Not like he's thirteen years old and someone just played a shitty prank that he swore he was too smart to fall for.

Well, that's it. On Eddie Munson's good and apparently sexually repulsive name, this is the last time he intimately trifles with some airhead in-crowd girl.

Next person he's fucking is a straight up weirdo and it's celibacy 'til then. Freaks or nothing. Blood oath.