#or maybe its about being released from the worry about the people in those buildings? idk but i love it either way!

[gurugirl]

Says Who? | demonrry

Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJOR size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.

She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were… she didn’t know, but perhaps she’d keep her distance.

Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) she’d need a refill.

She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner –it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.

She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.

The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.

Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, “You don’t need another drink, Y/n.”

Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.

“Says who? I’ve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?”

The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.

“Your name is printed on your cup,” he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.

She laughed and smiled, “Oh, I forgot,” she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, “Harry.”

“What’s an angel doing in a place like this anyway?”

Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, “It’s a club. I don’t know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?” Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasn’t worried. But she did like this man’s vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.

“You should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,” an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.

She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, “But you’re here,” she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, “You gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?”

“Is the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?” His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.

“Maybe. But you won’t let me get another drink so I don’t know…”

His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, “Oh you’re parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.”

She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.

“Did you swallow for me?” He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.

Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until they’d moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.

He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves… Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.

But it was Halloween, and this was what she’d been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.

Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers… He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.

“Love when I make angels wet. You’re just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?”

She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping he’d put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.

“Yes…” She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, “Gonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.”

Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donny’s hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).

“Can’t even stand up straight and that’s just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when it’s my cock splitting you in half, hm?”

She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.

Y/n didn’t want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.

Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.

Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, “Look at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck that’s so pretty…”

She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking man’s direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like he’d found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.

“You gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?”

Y/n’s rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, “Open up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.”

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"

Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's… I don't know… It's so…" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.

"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home… No one ever forgets it."

She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.

When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.

"Oohh…" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "Mmm…"

"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."

She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.

"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."

She was already letting him have her. She was his… whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone… sloppy, wet, deranged, disgusting…

"Mm ahhh…" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.

Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.

Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.

She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "Fuck…"

"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."

While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head… it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.

He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her… he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.

She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off –she'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison… but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.

Slushy, gloopy, splatting… his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.

"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."

She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"

Y/n was simply done for… her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.

Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.

Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed it…

She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.

But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.

It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up –he left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.

She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest… Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.

It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

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[loveburrowx]

Massage

Request - Y/N gives Joe a massage but things take a turn

Warnings - Smut (intercourse)

A/N - I hope u like this story! Enjoy!

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, amber glow over the city, Y/N carefully unfurled her yoga mat on the lush, emerald lawn of her suburban backyard. The scent of freshly cut grass and sweet, jasmine flowers filled the air, carrying with it the promise of a balmy summer evening. With her yoga class long behind her, she found herself craving a moment of solace, a chance to unwind and escape from the stress of her hectic life as a personal assistant to the famous football quarterback, Joe. Little did she know, however, that fate had other plans for her this evening.

As she settled into her favorite downward-facing dog pose, she felt a familiar presence behind her, the warmth of another body pressing against hers. Startled, she whipped around, her heart racing, only to find Joe standing there, hands in his pockets, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, gorgeous," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. "I just wanted to apologize for being such a jerk today. I've been under a lot of pressure lately, and I took it out on you."

Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "It's okay, Joe," she said, offering him a small smile. "I understand." She paused, considering his apology. "But you know, maybe you should try something different tonight." His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "How about I give you a massage?" she suggested. "It might help you relax."

Joe's eyes lit up at the offer, and he nodded gratefully. Without another word, Y/N led him over to her yoga mat, where she had already set up a portable massage table. As she unfurled a warm, scented towel and slipped it around his shoulders, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm wash over her. This was the first time they'd been alone together since the game, and she found herself enjoying the simple intimacy of the moment.

Her fingers danced over Joe's tense muscles, kneading and coaxing them to release their tension. As she worked, he let out soft moans of pleasure, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that she was making him feel better. Soon, the lines of strain and worry on his face began to fade, replaced by a look of pure bliss. It was then that she realized how much she truly cared for him, and with that realization came a powerful desire to express her feelings in a more intimate way.

Without thinking twice, she leaned forward and gently kissed Joe on the lips. His reaction was instantaneous; his hands found their way into her hair, tangling themselves in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss. The warmth of his mouth against hers sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel herself growing increasingly aroused. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest, tracing the defined muscles there, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingertips.

As their kiss broke, they both gasped for air, their eyes locked on each other's. There was an undeniable passion burning bright in those depths, and neither of them could deny the attraction that had been building between them for far too long. Without another word, Y/N rose to her feet, taking Joe's hand in hers and leading him over to the cozy swing they had in the corner of the yard. There, beneath the stars and the glow of a nearby lantern, they made love with a desperate urgency that spoke of months, if not years, of unspoken longing.

As their bodies moved in unison, Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Joe inside her, the smell of him, the taste of his kiss. She reveled in the knowledge that, for this brief moment, they were together, and that nothing else in the world mattered. It was as if they were the only two people in existence, and their love was the only thing that truly mattered. As their passion reached its peak, and they cried out in ecstasy, the weight of the world seemed to lift from their shoulders, if only for a little while.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, they lay curled up together on the swing, hands entwined, breathing heavily. Neither of them spoke for a long time, content to simply bask in the glow of their shared intimacy. Finally, Y/N turned her head to look at Joe, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the leaves in the trees above them. And for the first time, she truly meant it.

Joe smiled down at her, his eyes filled with the same emotion. "I love you too," he said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I've loved you for so long, and I'm so glad we finally... I don't know, found our way to this moment." He paused, searching for the right words. "I want to be with you, Y/N. I want us to be together, no matter what."

She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening. "Me too," she said softly. "I know it won't be easy, with everything going on, but I want us to try. I want us to make it work." They lapsed into silence again, lost in their thoughts and the warmth of each other's bodies.

As the night wore on, they talked, their voices low and intimate. They discussed their fears, their dreams, their hopes for the future. They talked about the game, and the pressure they both felt to perform at such a high level. They talked about their families, their friends, and the people who had shaped them into the individuals they were today. And with each passing moment, their connection grew stronger, their love deeper.

Eventually, they climbed into bed, still intertwined, and fell into a deep, contented sleep. It was the first time in months that either of them had felt truly at peace. The next day, they faced the world together, their newfound bond serving as a source of strength and resilience in the face of adversity. They knew that their relationship wouldn't be easy, but they also knew that they were stronger together than they ever could be apart. And so, they vowed to make it work, no matter what challenges life threw their way.

[maithefluffychicken]

Hazelnuts and blackberries, chocolate and lavender

Part 1 / Part 2

Omegaverse Steddie fanfiction, alpha Eddie Munson, omega Steve Harrington, strangers to friends to lovers, alpha beta omega dynamics.

Starcourt.

Small business owners complain about that hellish building that's going murder Hawkins' commercial economy. Or whatever.

Surely, it was going to murder Eddie's sanity, that's a fact. Since the mall opened its doors, the poor alpha’s life hasn’t been the same.

First, that awful morning when Eddie skipped his math class to buy a tape. Not just any tape but the ‘Marching Out’ by Yngwie Fucking Malmsteem, a tape that just released and it was already considered a worthwhile listen album. Eddie was ecstatic, a spring in his step, thinking about listening to his new tape for hours on end, just to find out that the little, cluttered tapes and vinyl store he loved - and where he used to spend a big part of his money - was closed.

Closed!

Eddie glared, gaping like a fish, at the closed door and blinded windows and the big cardboard placard with the word ‘closed’ in big, red letters. By its side, a note that said that the customers could still find whatever music they were looking for in the bigger and better record store at Starcourt Mall.

Since there were no other stupid stores to buy the tape - gas stations never had the new things - Eddie had to go to Starcourt.

Second, the stupid music store with a stupid cool name - Divinyl Madness Records - needed a stupid someone to hire as clerk.

Eddie was that stupid someone, it seemed. The owner of the store was nice, an older and intimidating alpha that sported a trimmed beard and a mane longer than Eddie’s; he saw the boy’s looks and his always present battle denim vest and, with a wolfish grin, as if he had found an equal, asked him a few things while Eddie was trying to buy the fucking tape! What kind of music he listened to (metal, mostly), if he played some instrument (guitar, d-uh!), if he minded talking with people (people usually minded to talk with him if he were being honest), and if he was interested to become part of Divinyl Records, as a clerk.

Eddie could save some money, help at home, and hopefully, Chief Hopper wouldn’t be such a present figure in his life if he worked there. That would be nice. He could always keep his other job - selling a few joints from time to time - but maybe he could start a new life. One that could let him out of here.

That day, Eddie came home with ‘Marching Out’ blasting from his van’s windows down and a new job.

Ok, all in all that had been a nice day after all. Sure, Eddie would miss the old store and his chaotic shelves and disarrayed style, and the owner's long stares at him, the beta glaring at Eddie for taking too much time deciding what to buy while waiting for new album releases. But at home that night, when he told his uncle Wayne about his new job, the man rewarded him with a proud glint in his eye and a pat on his shoulder, reassuring him that he didn't need to worry about their economics, that Eddie better save his money for his future, and made him promise to not go around skipping his classes again.

Third, and worse thing about Starcourt and working there, though, was Steve the King of the Jerks Harrington.

And if his persona wasn't bad enough, the real nightmare was the tight, small ridiculous sailor uniform he had to wear because the fallen ruler of Hawkin’s High worked in the silly ice cream parlor called Scoops Ahoy!

Divinyl Madness was situated right in front from Scoops Ahoy, Eddie had a perfect view of the former king's highlighted blonde mane ruined by the silly hat, his toned arms flexing every time he scooped ice cream. That alone could drive any alpha insane.

But his shorts. Oh boy.

The blue fabric clinged to his round ass perfectly, and left muscular, slightly hairy thighs on sight. And those long white socks that covered his calves.

Eddie maybe hated the guy, but fuck, he was hot. Really hot. Stupidly hot, ridiculously even, always has been, and the alpha hated the way his eyes lingered on the jock whenever he was nearby.

Eddie knew, because he had heard it at high school, that one of the reasons for Harrington's disgrace was the fact that he presented late and as omega. Captain of the swimming team, basketball star, and a bully jock turned into nothing just because of his secondary gender. Eddie couldn’t easily forgive the way Steve Harrington treated his people, the nerds, the outcasts and the misfits, but he never understood that hate towards male omegas or female alphas, as if they were less than nothing. Stupid old-fashioned social conventions.

Anyway. The real and only reason Eddie hated to work at the record store is that Steve Harrington was always there, too, in that small outfit, being hot.

Hot enough to distract Eddie from time to time, who started to stare at him when he wasn't busy and no clients were at the store.

Hot enough to start invading Eddie's dreams at night, and fuck it all, even his fantasies when he was wide awake at night and restless because Steve was a wet dream made flesh and bone and Eddie was just a guy. Just give him a rest. What if he had to knot his own fist, what else could he do about it?

Eddie was just a guy who ate a lot of ice cream that summer.

-

“Ahoy Ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, I’m Steve Harrington,” Steve’s cheerful and flirty greeting to every cute girl while he winked and used his sultriest voice was fucking unnerving to Eddie. Maybe an old habit from when he was expecting to present as an alpha.

Maybe Steve preferred other omegas, just because they were girls? Eddie frowns upon this and he feels suddenly sick. Every fucking time he comes for a stupid ice cream during his break the same thing, the same stupid line falling from these pink, flush lips and Eddie feels…

He fucking wants to growl and snarl at these other poor omegas girls that are unaware of his inner turmoil. He’s going insane, and he has been working at Divinyl Record for only three weeks.

The girls have their ice creams, ignoring the omega in his slutty sailor disguise but they all scrunch their noses when walking past Eddie, glaring at him and flushing themselves together, the way the omegas do to protect themselves against an alpha. Eddie, even enraptured by Steve, notices it and looks at them in confusion, until- fuck. His scent. Sour with jealousy and spicier with his own arousal, it’s a very distinctive and very alpha smell, no doubt the poor girls had felt the need to close their pack to protect themselves, leaving the establishment in a rush.

Fucking great, as if Eddie hadn’t enough in his plate already, now he smells like a predator. And it’s not like he can turn and say ‘hey babes, don’t you fret, you surely are all lovely and very enticing omegas, but I’m afraid my mind is set in this pretty sailor over here, I won’t represent any danger to any of you, and now I bid you farewell.’ Ha!

“Ahoy Lad-, oh Eddie, hi!” Steve greets him, a wide smile in those pink lips and Eddie can’t help but to think, it’s not fair. Why the fuck does Steve to smile at him like that, as if he’s happy to see him today, as if he’s happy to have Eddie coming for an ice cream every day since Eddie started working in the mall, right in front of Scoops Ahoy.

“What, no offer for me to sail this ocean of flavor, hm?” Eddie teases, he can’t help himself. “ You don’t want to be my captain, Harrington?”

Steve’s cheeks turn red and that’s such a good look on him. Eddie’s hindbrain yells mine and he has to shake his head, reminding himself he hates this guy and always will. People don’t change, Steve Harrington doesn't change, he’s still the same jerk, even if his scent is sweeter now and his hair is a bit longer, with blonde highlights…

“Pft, captain? Not even Private First Class, our dear Steve,” a chirpy voice says from the backstore, the blonde girl who works with Steve appearing and resting her arm on Steve’s shoulder, grinning wide while Steve frowns at her. “But he’s working hard. How are you, Eddie?”

“Hey, Robin,” Eddie smiles tensely at her, he doesn’t enjoy the way she treats the omega. From the record store, though, Eddie has seen that it’s just how their friendship is. He knows, he knows they’re friends, and Eddie is no one for them, for Steve. “Slow day at the store, I’m here for my daily dose of sugar.”

They’re not friends, Eddie has to remind himself, when Steve offers him a blinding smile, droopy eyes locking with his own when he asks if he wants a sample of their new flavor.

Fuck.

The thing is, and this is when Eddie realizes for real that he’s completely fucked - about this whole affair who involves Steve Harrington and his inner, loud alpha- the thing is, that Steve’s scent smells like hazelnuts and lavender. And since Eddie started working at the store and spending his money on ice cream, he has been asking for flavors that remind him of Steve’s scent. Almond and maple syrup, chocolate and peanuts - his favorite, since Eddie’s own scent is dark chocolate and blackberries, and -

He hasn’t noticed until now, until this exact moment when he shrugs and Steve offers him a disposable spoon with the new ice cream flavor: caramel and hazelnuts.

Eddie opens his mouth, inhaling the cold scent of the sample when Steve raises his hand, offering the spoon to him; the omega chuckles but shoves the spoon in Eddie’s mouth carefully. The omega’s own scent, warmer and even sweeter, the hint of lavender fills Eddie’s nostrils and makes his mouth water.

Fuck.

“It's good, right?” Steve asks him, eyes wide. Maybe ice cream is the ex-jock whole life, now. “Do you like it?”

Eddie nods, awestruck, forgetting where he is, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s wrist, gently. Steve flares his nostrils, inhaling deep too, and blushing right in front of Eddie’s eyes, who feels his blood boiling in his veins. The omega holds his gaze, his almond eyes bright and wide open, lips parted to taste whatever he’s smelling-

Robin clears her voice, “Steve, I think Eddie wants his ice cream so he can go back to work, and we have more clients waiting.”

The alpha almost snaps at her, turning his head to snarl, but her soft eyes and knowing smile are enough to keep his mouth closed. What the fuck is happening to him today?

“Yes, yeah, sure. What flavor do you want today, Eddie?”

Eddie comes back to the record store with two scoops in his cone, his usual chocolate and peanuts - the closest to hazelnuts until now - and… well, hazelnuts and caramel.

“Hey, pup, what’s wrong with you?” Joe, the alpha who owns the store looks at him and wrinkles his nose. “You smell like you fell into a chocolate fountain, like burnt sugar, you feeling ok, Munson?"

"I… I'm fine," Eddie lies, and the hours don't run fast enough.

When he reaches home, his uncle Wayne winces.

"Uf, son, your rut is early," he says, greeting him.

"Hng," Eddie agrees, flopping onto the couch, face first.

"Something triggered it?" His uncle asks, not unkindly, shuffling in their small kitchenette.

"What do you mean, Wayne?" He bristles, almost snarls, but his uncle simply laughs and puts a glass of water on the table for him.

"Do ya really want to go through the bees and the birds talk again, son?" Wayne asks, teases him, and Eddie grunts, hides his face against the plush, worn cushions that smell like him and his uncle. Their little pack. "Ya know what I mean, some pretty omega caught yer eyes?"

"Uncle Wayne," Eddie groans. Then, the younger alpha thinks about droopy, hazel eyes, about pink lips stretched in an open smile, and the smell of sweet hazelnuts. "Maybe."

-

His rut lasts three whole days, he spends them in his room, thrashing and growling and having half a mind to not destroy everything he has, his guitars, his amps, his books.

On the fourth day and feeling like shit, Eddie comes back to high school, to his band practice, and to Divinyl Records. At least his brain is not full of cotton anymore, even if his hindbrain is still louder in his mind.

Eddie apologizes to Joe for calling in sick for three whole days.

"It's ok, pup," the alpha pats his shoulder with such force that makes Eddie stumble. "It gets easier when you're older."

"Really?"

"Nah, not really," Joe laughs, putting a box full of records on Eddie's trembling arms and he picks another box, and points Eddie with his chin to follow him. "Just an omega, a good mate, it's the only thing that will make your ruts less miserable, pup. Find someone who sees that you’re so much more than a knothead and never let go."

Eddie snorts at these words, but during his shift, he can’t stop thinking about it. Fuck, he knows he’s far too young to think about finding a mate, and yet, something weird tugs at his gut when he glances sideways and sees Steve across the corridor, in his blue uniform and smiling to a kid. There’s this pup again, his curls under a cap, Eddie has seen him with Steve other times, they greet each other with a silly handshake that makes Eddie smile despite his best effort to keep his frown.

His hindbrain whines and Eddie reminds it, sulking, that they’re not friends, they’re no less than hereditary enemies. There’s no place in Steve’s life for someone like Eddie.

Eddie is focusing, organizing and reshelving some tapes behind the counter when a soft cough calls his attention and makes him turn around.

“Good ev- Harrington?”

Steve is in front of him, holding two cones in front of him, his blond hair is falling over his eyes but there’s no little white hat, and he’s smiling. Wide and beautiful. At Eddie.

“Hi, Eddie,” Steve greets him, his smile shy and tentative.

“What can I do for you, Captain Harrington?” Eddie teases, his eyes jumping from the ice creams to Steve’s eyes.

“You didn’t come for your ice cream today nor the last days, and I thought…” Steve blushes, his eyes leave Eddie’s. “I thought I could bring it to you, maybe we can have our breaks together?”

Eddie gapes like a fish, opening his mouth with nothing to say, and then closing it again. He manages to mumble something about letting his boss know and Steve’s smile widens.

Lavender and hazelnuts fill his nostrils suddenly when Steve’s scent peaks with joy, and Eddie feels far too weak after his rut, his mind wheeling before the alpha can look for his boss at the backstore.

When the older alpha appears, trailing behind Eddie, he looks at Steve and then at his employee, arching a brow. He doesn’t say a thing, but Eddie feels like Joe knows exactly who was the one triggering the rut that forced Eddie to miss three days of work.

Eddie clears his throat and takes the cone Steve is offering, leading him out the store to find some place where they can sit and eat their ice cream.

“It’s the hazelnut and caramel from last time,” Steve informs him, blushing. But if you'd rather have some other flavor…”

“Nope!” Eddie interrupts him, blushing fiercely but unable to stop his mouth. “I loved this one, honestly, my favorite one so far. Thank you.”

Too much information, too much honesty, but Steve gives him that sweet, flustered smile, and it’s worth it. Eddie stares at Steve licking his own scoop, the one Eddie used to order, chocolate and peanuts.

Eddie doesn’t want to hope.

-

Things change after that evening.

They start looking for each other to share their break time together. Sometimes, if Scoops Ahoy is empty, Robin lets Eddie spend his break with them, perched at the table in their backstore, the three of them eating ice cream. Eddie can’t help but to laugh at the weird friendship antics the young beta and Steve have developed.

Robin used to hate Steve Harrington The King, she confesses to Eddie one lazy evening, the summer is coming to an end and Scoops Ahoy has lesser clients, now. Steve is dealing with a pup that sounds terrifying, no doubt she’ll present as an alpha someday, and she’s demanding free samples for her and her pack of friends.

“And now you’re friends,” Eddie says.

“And now we’re best friends, Eddie,” she corrects. “He’s not like he used to be, I wonder if he ever was like that or if he was, you know, pretending, for survival.”

Robin looks at Eddie, expectant, as if she’s waiting for Eddie to understand some hidden meaning in her words.

“I don’t hate Steve,” Eddie feels the urge to say, and it feels weird to admit it out loud.

“I know,” Robin smirks, making Eddie frown at her. “You reek of sweet blackberries all the time when you’re here, Eddie, I know you don’t hate him.”

“I-... Well, we agree then, we don’t hate Steve Harrington anymore, isn’t that a sign for the Apocalypse that’s to come upon us?” Eddie decides to joke about it, not wanting to acknowledge his burning cheeks or how his belly churns at the mention of his scent when he’s around Steve. And definitely he doesn’t want to listen to his hindbrain and its constant longing for the omega.

“For the Apocalypse, then,” Robin raises her cone - strawberry - and Eddie does the same with his own, chocolate and peanuts and hazelnuts with caramel.

“For the Apocalypse.”

-

“Scoops Ahoy is going to close its doors, at least until next summer,” Steve informs Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks, fear rising inside him.

Scoops Ahoy is what had transformed their relationship, from hate to an irresponsible crush (at least for the alpha) to a friendship that leaves Eddie breathless, filling him with longing and a burning desire inside and stupid thoughts about a kind of life Eddie had never wanted to think about before. But Steve is his friend now, Steve wants to spend time with him, even outside their working hours, just like they're doing now.

It’s Sunday and they’re both over the roof of Eddie’s van, watching the sun set, parked on the quarry. It’s quiet and still warm, even if they both have their hoodies ready, it’ll be cold at night.

“And what are you and Robin going to do, now?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t want to lose any of them, now that he thinks about it. Eddie realizes he doesn’t want to lose everything he has found this summer.

Steve and Robin, and the whole strange pack that comes with them. Dustin, the curly hair pup that is a total nerd and Eddie has met and discussed DnD with him and his friends. Lucas, Will and that stubborn pup called Mike. Max and El, the young teens like peas in a pod. And Erica, the strong pup that is Lucas’ little sister and the most terrifying person Eddie has ever met, always surrounded by her own group of friends, always leading them.

Eddie feels strangely overprotective towards them all, even if he met them just recently. It’s all because of Steve, he knows and he can’t stop it now. He wants to protect everything that makes Steve happy, even his underpaid job.

“Oh, don’t worry, Scoops Ahoy closes but Spoons Ahoy opens instead!” Steve half laughs, maybe because he’s witnessing Eddie spiraling on his behalf, because Eddie is looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. Steve’s hand rests on Eddie’s face, soothing him immediately, letting Eddie nuzzle his palm and inhaling deeply from Steve’s wrist glands.

“What the fuck is Spoons Ahoy,” Eddie mumbles, losing himself in Steve’s touch and scent.

“A coffee shop, Eds, they’re keeping our jobs, just as baristas now.”

“Hm, ok,” Eddie mumbles, feeling like he’s laying in a field of lavender and eating sweet, roasted hazelnuts, his body going pliant and weightless when Steve pulls him to rest his head on him, over the omega’s clothed chest.

Eddie inhales deeply, ignoring the last rays of sun to better nuzzle the omega’s preppy white and red polo, his arms wrapping around the omega’s thin waist. It’s good, so good, to just stay like this, knowing his omega is safe with him…

“Don’t wanna lose you,” Eddie whispers, not knowing he’s saying it out loud. His hindbrain swimming in a lavender field.

“You won’t, Eds, I promise,” Steve whispers back, his fingers playing with Eddie’s hair and lulling him to sleep.

-

It’s middle September when Spoons Ahoy opens its doors, Robin and Steve wearing matching sailor uniforms again, but long sleeves ones now. Eddie misses being able to see Steve’s pale skin covered in moles, even if the new, sinfully tight white slacks stretch deliciously against the omega’s round ass. The first time Eddie sees Steve’s uniform - at Steve’s house, because they’re friends who hang out almost daily, now -, the alpha wants to bite these clothes off until Steve is bare and underneath him, and Eddie has to force himself to laugh at the ridiculousness of the new uniform when Steve looks at him, expecting an answer to a question Eddie can only imagine by context.

He knows Steve can tell what is he thinking, the omega’s nostrils flaring everytime his scent peaks spicier and sweeter. Ripped blackberry and dark chocolate, as his own boss, Robin and his uncle Wayne had informed him, several times now. Even Gareth has told him about it, in a very Gareth way - that was basically shouting at him in the middle of a band rehearsal - to be an alpha and to start courting Steve already because, in Gareth words: ‘he’s sighing too much and it’s annoying’.

Everyone knows how he feels about Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins’ High School and actual princess of Eddie’s heart.

Steve is just too kind to ignore it in favor of their friendship.

Anyway, Spoons Ahoy it’s a blast and during the first days Eddie can’t share his break with Steve. He waits in line until he can reach the counter and it’s Robin who’s free for him to take his order; Eddie loves the funny beta girl, but he wanted to see Steve. His deception must be obvious.

“Hey, Steve, this one is yours, actually,” she grins and winks at Eddie before he can even say his hellos. Instead, he mouths her a silent thank you that makes Robin shake her head, smiling softly at him.

“Eds!” Steve greets him with his sweetest smile, his scent peaking sweeter, and it’s like summer again and lavender fields. “I’m sorry, I can’t take my break now…”

“Don’t worry, big boy, just wanted to, you know, say hello,” Eddie mumbles, and knows that Steve is looking at his smitten expression, he can’t even disguise it nowadays, he can’t pull a straight face in front of Steve, not for dear life.

Steve chuckles, making Eddie’s chest puff, his hindbrain whispering the sweetest things in his mind. Perfect omega, so sweet and caring, so beautiful, so strong, perfect mate for me, laughing at my words, wanting me back.

But a beautiful dream, though, to have Steve loving him back.

Wait, what?

“I’ve been trying something new. Want to forgo your usual coffee and take a risk, Munson?” Steve asks him, his cheeks deliciously blushed. He seems shy, hopeful even, as if Eddie had told him no at anything during the last months.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Eddie smirks, making Steve snort at his antics. Fuck.

Eddie can’t stay once Steve hands him two steamy disposable cups, one for Eddie and the other for Joe. He rushes to leave the counter, wishing Steve a nice shift and hoping they could spend more time together. When Eddie retreats to the backstore after offering his boss the second coffee, he takes time to admire Steve’s handwriting in his cup. There’s a little heart instead of a dot over the i on his name.

The alpha smiles at it. Holding the cup with both hands, he inhales the warm aroma, expecting… not knowing what, exactly, but he’s rewarded with strong cocoa and roasted hazelnuts. Their scents mixed sweetly in this cup. It’s like holding scorching hot hope in his hands.

Eddie whines, rushing to give it a sip, burning his tongue in the process but ignoring it because Steve had given him hope and a silly, little heart in his name.

-

It’s Halloween.

Steve says his parents aren’t at home, and invites Eddie, Robin and the pups for a movie night. All the pups have been discussing what movie they should watch first, it’s all sci-fi and horror and Eddie sees an amused Steve, hands on hips and wearing a worn, well loved yellow sweater, playing mom with the pups.

It’s a sight that makes Eddie’s hindbrain go feral, providing him images he doesn’t even want to think right now because, well, he’s surrounded by pups and there’s no doubt they all would know exactly what Eddie is thinking about the omega.

“We can start with Jaws and Alien next and… Wait, who brought The Exorcist? You’re all too young for this movie.”

“Come on Steve, we’re not pups anymore!”

“You won’t be able to sleep later!”

“We’ll nest with you and Eddie, we’ll be fine!”

Steve looks at Eddie at this, blushing fiercely, and Eddie just shrugs. Yes, I want to nest with you and protect these pups that you love as if they were yours and maybe someday we’ll have our own pups in our own nest and… Yeah, yes, Eddie has been thinking about this, sue him - again.

The pups are all tucked on an improvised bed in front of the couch, where Eddie and Steve are sitting together. Robin has claimed the reclining chair for herself, a thick blanket covering from chin to toe, and smiling smugly when she reclines it and gets comfortable.

The movie starts and Eddie startles when Steve gets closer to him, a plush, giant blanket in hands, and smiles at him coyly, a silent question in his shy eyes.

Eddie smiles at him, heart hammering wildly in his chest, laying sideways on the couch and opening his arms for Steve to make himself a place between them.

“I don’t really enjoy horror movies,” Steve confesses in a whisper, covering their bodies with the blanket. “I mean, I’m ok with Jaws, I love Steven Spielberg’s movies, but, Alien?”

Steve wiggles and gets comfortable, taking Eddie’s arms to wrap himself with them, and the alpha has to suppress a purr, but oh, he flushes their bodies together without thinking. Hazelnuts and lavender surround Eddie and it’s summer again.

“Technically, Alien is sci-fi, sweetheart,” Eddie nuzzles Steve’s soft hair. “But I’m here and I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Steve lets out a happy chirp and one of their pups - because now they all are their pups - shush at them.

“Would you scent me if I’m scared?” Steve turns his head to whisper at Eddie, their lips brushing slightly. Eddie wants to growl and claim those lips.

“Always,” Eddie whispers back, no, promises him so earnestly it hurts him physically.

Steve pecks him on the tip of his nose and turns his head to watch the movie, seemingly unaffected by Eddie’s inner turmoil, and daring to intertwine their fingers togethers.

Eddie feels like he’s floating, his purr starts in his chest and it’s low enough that the pups wouldn’t hear it, but Steve can feel the rumble of it, pressed as they are back to chest.

A moment after, Steve’s purr starts too, lulling Eddie to a sated, safe state where even his hindbrain gets quiet. It’s the best Halloween of Eddie’s life..

-

It’s a rare occasion, Eddie and Wayne have the day off and they decide to drive to the city, see what’s new.

They take a look at the thrift shop, where Eddie spots a brand new denim jacket, in great conditions and so cheap, perfect for a new battle vest. He also finds a couple of t-shirts and brings them all to the counter where Wayne is waiting for him, his own bounty in his hands.

Eddie drops the clothes on the counter and it's when he sees it. Behind the glass, resting over blue velvet, there's a silver chain attached to a silver blackberry.

“It’s beautiful, right?” The girl at the other side of the counter says.

“It’s perfect for a courting gift,” his uncle Wayne agrees, nudging him with his elbow.

Eddie blushes, but he keeps his mouth closed. For now.

“You don’t strike me as the romantic type, Wayne,” Eddie teases, biting a chip dipped in ketchup.

“What’s yer real question, pup, spit it,” Wayne snorts, devouring his burger. “It’s about that Harrington boy?”

Eddie grunts, hides his face and makes some more grumbling noises his uncle takes as an affirmation.

“H-how do I court an omega?” Eddie asks with a trembling voice, muffled by his hands.

-

Eddie has a plan.

It’s a good plan, it’s a fucking perfect plan and he’s sure that Steve is going to say yes, he’s.. ok, he’s 90% sure that Steve is going to accept his courting gift. They’ve been getting closer and closer, Eddie has been dying to ask, but between their jobs and classes…

It’s an old as fuck tradition, the courting ritual, and nobody does that anymore, but Eddie is an idiot and a romantic and Steve Harrington deserves to be wooed, to be courted. Eddie just hopes Steve says yes. That this is not some kind of joke.

Eddie has the silver blackberry pendant, the one from the thrift store, in a neat, blue velvet box.

He just needs to wait two days. Two days and he’ll give Steve his courting gift on Christmas’ Eve day, during lunch, and he’s going to ask him if he accepts his courting.

No misunderstandings, not hey, I saw this and thought of you, or look! Early Christmas present! No.

A real proposition.

They’re working double shifts because of the holidays, and they have one whole hour for lunch. Eddie runs towards Spoons Ahoy, planning to ask Steve to spend their hour together - as they do now - and finds Steve holding to the counter for dear life, cheeks red and covered in fresh sweat. Thankfully, there are no clients at this hour.

“Stevie!” Eddie shouts and rushes behind the counter, Robin appearing at his screaming.

“Eddie? What… Steve?”

“Steve, sweetheart, are you ok?”

“It’s… too hot,” Steve sighs, tugging at the collar of his sailor uniform.

“Eddie?” Robin asks, scared and scrunching her nose covered in freckles. “Is he… Is he in heat?”

“Y-yeah, yes, smells like it,” Eddie says. Steve’s scent is sweeter than ever, dry lavender under august’s sun and roasted hazelnuts filling and dizzying Eddie’s mind, his own body reacting to his omega’s needs. “He can’t work like this.”

“Go with him, I’ll inform Joe, too.”

“Robin, I can’t… We’re not… He never…” Eddie doesn’t know how to say that he can’t go and betray Steve’s trust. Eddie can’t trust himself, not when Steve is so vulnerable. But Robin basically shoves them towards the exit, ignoring Eddie’s weak protests.

Ok, new plan. Eddie is good at improvising and he’s a firm believer that adaptability it’s a great skill. He has a new plan now.

The new plan is to leave Steve at his house, safe and sound, and then provide for whatever Steve could need.

“Eddie…,” the omega whispers, arching his back in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. “Eddie, it’s too hot.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Eddie tries to soothe him. “It’s your heat, it’s starting now. I’m going to leave you at home, ok?” Eddie caresses the omega’s face, he’s burning as if in fever.

“Would you spend it with me?” Steve asks, whines hopefully and in pain. Fuck.

“I can’t, baby,” Eddie answers, swallowing around the lump in his throat and driving as carefully as he can while his hindbrain is howling. Steve is whimpering, so close to him, scenting his van. “I want to, you know… Fuck, Stevie, you know that I want to, but I can’t do this to you, not like this.”

“Like this?” Steve asks, frowning even if he keeps whimpering softly.

“You know…” Eddie makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Like this.” He repeats. “In heat, you’re like, hindbrain is in control and all that, right?”

Steve barks an angry, incredulous laugh at Eddie.

“Is that how a rut feels for you?” Steve asks.

The alpha looks at Steve sideways, blushing and feeling like the idiot he is. Nods sharply. All alphas are knotheads, after all, aren’t they?

“Eds… I’m in heat, not drugged,” Steve sighs, clearly annoyed and smelling Eddie’s scent, lips parted and nostrils flaring. “I know what I’m doing, and I’m asking you to spend my heat with me, if you want me.”

If you want me. If you want me.

Eddie growls at that, his hindbrain howling. He reaches to hold Steve’s hand, squeezes hard, the omega feels clammy and scorching hot because of the heat.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Stevie, baby.”

Eddie doesn’t remember how they made it to Steve’s house, only that he’s grateful that the Harringtons are always out of Hawkins, because Eddie can’t stop kissing Steve while the omega leads them to his room.

Steve breaks their kiss, their first kiss - not like Eddie had planned but he’s not complaining - and starts rummaging through his room, grabbing blankets and sheets and rearranging his bed. No, his nest.

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t get it right,” the omega sobs after a while, fighting against a pillow.

This is more what Eddie expected, if he’s honest. When the hindbrain takes control, logic goes away and instinct takes everything. Steve is now succumbing to it, groaning and snapping, and Eddie falls in love with him even more.

“Hey, hey, baby,” Eddie gets closer, calmly and with his hands raised up. “May I help you?”

Steve’s face is red, fat tears running down his cheeks. Eddie’s heart breaks a bit at the sight, the urge to fight against whatever it is that is making Steve unhappy too strong, his hindbrain too loud to ignore.

“I have nothing that smells like you,” Steve sobs again, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his uniform.

“We can take care of that, hm?” Eddie reassures and Steve looks at him. “I just, I need to… Can I get closer?”

Eddie’s body is reacting to Steve’s scent, to his heat, and when Steve flares his nostrils, lips parted to chase Eddie’s own scent, he knows the omega is tasting his own arousal. Eddie is already getting hard in his jeans, urgency tugging at him in a new, desperate way. There’s this sudden urge to close all the doors and windows, to make sure his omega is safe here. To make sure they have plenty of food and water and whatever Steve could need.

Steve’s heat is triggering the alpha’s deepest instincts, his own rut. Faster now that he’s with an omega in heat, more desperate if that’s possible, quicker the way his body reacts and his hindbrain shuts down his rational mind. If someone tried to enter the house now, Eddie knows he would fight them with teeth and nails.

The omega nods at him, offers Eddie his hand and the alpha rushes to take it in his, kneels in front of Steve and kisses his hand, nuzzles his warm, soft palm, noses Steve’s wrist glands. It’s so different from every other time, so intimate.

“Stevie, sweetheart, I want to give you whatever you could want,” Eddie whispers against the omega’s wrist, who gasps and thrashes, still fully clothed. His rut is overwhelming him and he needs to do something before he loses it completely. “I just want to know that this… that this is what you really want?”

Eddie’s speech is slurred, he can feel it, like he’s drunk but still thinking properly. Still in charge of himself but not for long, and hopes Steve is still in charge of himself, too.

No, of course they’re not drugged, as Steve said, and maybe it’s different for the omega. But Eddie? He knows he’s losing his mind, he needs to be sure. He needs to claim, the only way he can, now.

“Eddie, I told you, I know what I… oh.”

The alpha, who has been carrying the blue velvet box with him for weeks now, too anxious to leave it at home and yet patting it on his pocket every five minutes, is now holding it in front of Steve.

“Eds? Is this…?”

“Open it, please,” Eddie begs, his hips bucking, armpits stinging, his rut coming to him in waves of painful need. “You don’t have to say yes but fuck, I… I hope you say yes, Stevie, I just… I want to ask you… I’ve been wanting for a long time, actually, never sure if you… if you ever…”

He’s rambling, his hindbrain snarling inside him. If Steve rejects him, and still wants Eddie to stay, Eddie doesn’t know if he’ll survive that. If Steve wants him to leave, Eddie would leave the country, leave it for good and never look back.

Steve opens the box and his eyes widen, the light brown swallowed by the black of his pupils, his delicate fingertip caressing the simple pendant.

“A blackberry,” he whispers. “Eddie, is a silver blackberry.”

Steve is smiling when he looks at Eddie.

“It’s… a courting gift, Stevie,” Eddie reassures, his intentions clear, or so he hopes.

“You always smell like ripe blackberries and chocolate when we’re together,” Steve smiles, his eyes bright.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, breathless. “Do you accept it?”

Eddie finds himself with a lapful of happy, chirping omega who is peppering kisses all over his face. They fall to the ground, Steve stradling him, and Eddie hugging Steve back, laughing, feeling weightless and yet like he’s a supernova.

“I thought… Eddie, what took you this long?” Steve pouts before grinning again. “Of course I accept it, silly alpha, help me?”

They stand clumsily, clawing at the last moments of rational thinking to enjoy this moment. Eddie closes the chain around Steve’s neck, takes his chance to kiss at the moles right there in his jaw, the omega shivering under his touch.

After that, it’s all a blur. Steve undresses himself hastily, tossing the uniform somewhere, leaving only the new silver blackberry, and urges Eddie to do the same. The omega steals Eddie’s handkerchief and puts it on his nest, next goes Eddie’s t-shirt, faded and soft and comfortable, and the alpha knows Steve is going to keep his favorite t-shirt when he nuzzles it, pressing it against his face and inhaling deeply. He feels a deep rush of pride, smiling wolfishly, thinking: mine.

“Better?” Eddie manages to ask when Steve deems the nest good enough.

“No,” Steve answers, takes his hands and pulls at him until Eddie is on the nest, laughing, laying barenaked for Steve to touch and scent and enjoy. “Ok, now, perfect.”

They can’t keep talking after that, their needs far too urgent to deny them now that they’re together. Eddie is not a virgin, but he has never shared a nest with an omega in heat, nor has he spent his rut with someone, and it’s so intense, so overwhelming.

It’s so good. So fucking amazing, he’s not ready for something like this, and yet, he can’t believe he’s been living without this.

Steve’s skin is burning and dripping wet when Eddie gets his mouth on him, his little cocklet throbbing in his tongue under the alpha’s ministrations while his own cock is aching, leaking precum all over the nest.

“Alpha, alpha, I need you,” are the last coherent words Steve pronounces that night. Eddie has half a mind to grab one of the condoms Steve tossed into the nest.

Eddie kisses him while he breaches him, his cunt so wet and ready for him, swallowing him to the hilt, until he’s buried deep in the omega.

“Omega,” Eddie worships him, and knows he’ll always worship Steve.

The omega thrashes and bites him in his shoulders and arms, leaving the marks he can while avoiding his mating gland. Eddie hopes they can claim each other in the future.

They wail and whine, their moans and breath mingling, Eddie rolling his hips chasing Steve’s pleasure again and again, the feeling of his walls clenching around him making him believe in a higher power.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” Steve chants, and tugs at Eddie’s dark curls, making the alpha growl, his hips stuttering, the knot at his base swelling and catching at Steve’s entrance.

A powerful, earth-shattering orgasm hits Eddie and leaves him breathless, knotting them together. The alpha howls at the sensation, Steve all around him even if he’s still underneath the alpha. The omega is milking him, riding his own pleasure, and Eddie loses himself in their mixed scents and the overwhelming truth that is to admit at last that he actually is in love with Steve Harrington.

-

Eddie awakes to the sound of a rumbling, loud purr. His muscles are sore and he’s thirsty and hungry as never before, but he’s also sated and happy, his own purr starting happily when he remembers the night before.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Eddie whispers, kissing Steve’s rumbling chest, nuzzling him and feeling absurdly proud of their mingled scents, plus the mess of sweat and slick and overall smell of sex.

“Hngmng,” Steve mumbles, his fingers tangled in Eddie’s fingers and playing idly.

Eddie props over his elbows to look at the magnificent sight that is Steve Harrington, completely naked in the morning light, in the mess of a nest they made together last night. The alpha smiles, completely smitten.

“Is it still too hot, baby?” Eddie asks, and kisses Steve’s lips, softly.

“Hm, not now, but… soon,” Steve answers, biting his lower lip, his soft gaze locked in Eddie’s eyes. He touches his own chest, finds the silver blackberry, and a shiver runs down his spine, Eddie feels like shivering, too. “You meant it?”

“The courting gift? Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve nods, biting his lower lip. Eddie has the need to kiss him again.

“And that you want to give me everything I want? Would you scent me when I’m scared? All that, you meant it?”

“Yeah, omega, I meant it, I mean it… Do you still accept my courtship?” Eddie needs to know, needs to be sure. He’ll probably need to hear it often, still feeling like a dream.

“Yes, Eds,” Steve’s laugh sounds like a chirp, far too adorable. “Do you realize that I’ve been flirting with you since you started working at Divinyl Records, right?”

Eddie blinks once, twice. Wants to say that, yes, that he knew all this time, but the truth is that he’s still wondering if all this is really happening.

“I- Sure.”

Steve chuckles, wraps his legs around the alpha’s waist and pulls at him until they’re kissing again, the urgency rising slowly, letting them enjoy their kiss.

-

During their lunch on Christmas’ Eve day, Starcourt bursting with people doing last time shopping, Eddie and Steve sit closer than usual. The omega is almost sitting in Eddie’s lap, and the alpha can’t stop nuzzling at his boyfriend’s hair and neck. He feels invincible.

Steve shoves a black velvet box towards Eddie, and kisses him right in his scent gland under his ear, making the alpha growl in pleasure.

“What’s this?” Eddie asks, lips curling in a smile.

“Just open it, Eds,” Steve smiles.

Eddie obliges and opens the box to reveal a silver hazelnut.

“Yes, Eddie Munson,” Steve whispers in his ear. “I accept your courting.”

[writing-whump]

I need Matthew's lighthearted teasing-grumpyness back. He seems so off recenty, poor guy. I don't know, maybe put him in the box with Hector and shake it a little, or something. Maybe some barking will help release some tension. 👀

(and i can't see the story progressing with Matt in current state, i know he is dealing with the situation as he can, but... We know what's coming 🥺)

A.

Well, people have been screaming at me bc of Matthew, so here you go. Your wish heard loud and clear :D

Hitting the limit

Matthew was exhausted.

He had been keeping up his routine the whole week as always. Except it was maxed up to two times its normal amount.

When he woke up, he took a protein shake and went for a run. After 10 kilometers he went to the gym and worked out. Ran the way back to their apartment gym and did the boxing routine with punching and jumping with the sail. Then weight lifting. Then another punching round. Then a session with his shadow.

When his legs turned to jelly and thoughts died down to bright lights and louds noises, he allowed himself to follow the scent to their apartment.

Isaiah found him on the couch and forced him to drink and eat. Then he passed out.

So went the days for the whole week Rip was almost healed up and the first week after the kids moved away.

To an apartment next door.

Matt understood he would have to get used to it. To the proximity, to the scents, to the shadows.

Heck, Dylan showed up not a day into them moving out and crashed on their couch for the whole day like it meant nothing.

Matthew was very very proud of himself for being so exhausted he couldn't hold a coherent conversation.

He hated himself for being so weak and a burden. For his shadow being hungry and curious about Dylan's presence. In a way the boy felt like a threat, his jealousy almost his own perfume. It irked the possessive part of Matthew's shadow.

Isaiah and Seline were his. And now there were those two kids, Rip and Dylan, drawing each of them away in different ways.

Away from Matthew.

It was stupid and childish and he was so emberassed he couldn't even formulate the thought out loud.

So he kept running. Running and running and running, so he wouldn't have to look any deeper why his shadow was a mess and why his core was shaking in fear he would be left behind, cause look, Seline had a family and Isaiah could connect with anyone and there was nothing special about Matt without them, nothing where he could go...

It wasn't hot, the weather switching between quick rains and puffy greyness. That was good, he didn't have to worry about heat exhaustion.

At some point he did get a bit of blackness over his eyes and his legs got a bit shaky. He would sit down in a second. That couldn't hurt, right?

Maybe he had decided that too late, cause his vision went from black to nothing.

"Oi. Oi. You dead?"

Someone's feet next to his ear. His ear? What?

Matthew blinked himself awake. He was lying in a ditch by the sidewalk that led to the economy university campus.

It was a rather calm side of the road, now that the holidays kept the complex of buildings empty.

"Oi. Go pass out on someone else's turf, you hear?"

The gruff and annoyed voice sounded familiar.

Matthew felt too tired to move, only lifting his gaze. And sure enough, Hector's spiky hair and bushy eyebrows came into view as the wolf leaned over him with an angry scowl.

"Hmmm?" He said intelligently.

"Are you gonna be lying there for a long time?"

"Maybe we should call an ambulance." Another voice. Girlish, one that Matthew didn't recognize.

"Nah, that's fine," Hector waved his hand dismissively. "He is fine, just being lazy. Matt, get up or you're gonna seriously piss me off."

"You don't need me for that," Matthew said in a scratchy voice. He had to cough to clear it, but his throat still felt dry and painful.

He dragged himself up into a sitting position on a second, nope, third time, blinking like a madman as the sun came into view and his surroundings got back their colour.

Hector was still standing there, looking terribly smug. Beside him was a girl, small in statute with a heart-shaped face, round puffy cheeks and short black hair. Her eyes were wide and smoky, looking at Matthew with worry.

She kept glancing at Hector as her reference point, so she was probably crazy.

Matthew let his shoulders slump. Where was he going? His digital watch was out of battery and he had no idea how much running he had left for the day.

When Hector opened his mouth to say something again, Matthew quickly interrupted: "What do you mean, 'your turf'?" This was the biggest university campus in Vienna, no way someone could just come and claim it as part of their pack's territory.

Hector shrugged. "You heard me."

Matthew shook his head, the notion amusing him, despite himself. He braced himself against his knees, trying to work up the energy to stand up. "You can't claim fucking Praterstern, man. It's a whole subway stop, school and lunapark, are you crazy?"

Hector huffed at him, insulted, before a hand suddenly appeared in front of Matthew's face.

Matthew stared at it a bit longer than he should have, almost spacing out again. Then he took it.

Hector got him upright in a smooth motion, without a single catch in his breath. "Am not. It was nobody's, so now it will be somebody's. Mine."

Matthew steadied himself, then lost his balance again.

Hector scoffed, grabbing him by the elbow. "Olive, Matthew. Matthew, Olive." He maneuvered him to the nearest bench. Ah. It was so close, he should have noticed.

A noise of paper hitting pavement caught his attention. The girl let go of the pile of notebooks in her hands, rumpaging frantically through her backpack.

"Here." Olive offered him water in a cute black and pink thermo bottle with shaking fingers, cheeks red with embarrassment. "What do you mean, 'claim turf'?" she said, turning to Hector.

Hector put his hands on his hips, glaring at Matthew like the question was his fault. "Why are you here, anyway? The buildings are closed during summer break."

The black-haired girl gave him a miffed look. "The Messe is right behind you, genius. There is a manga expo as we speak."

Matthew looked vaguely in that direction. Yes, there was the giant Messe building, where all big expositions took place. This was a very frequented district. It didn't belong to no-one because all kinds of wolves and humans passed through it.

Claiming it was inviting trouble.

It was kind of funny. Everyone was moving on with their lives, having hobbies and interests and people. Matthew couldn't deal with any of his problems, while Hector was actively looking for some.

How much more behind could he get?

Matthew took a swing of the water. It was nice and cool, soothing his throat.

"You can't expect me to know what manva means, Olive."

"Manga, it's manga!"

Hector laughed. "You mean the comics for children?"

"They are graphic novels, you jerk, and it's a highly artistic and deeply expressive medium!"

"Oh, another artistic cr- I mean, I see, it fits you very well."

Olive gave him a pouty look. "Anyway. Your friend doesn't look well."

Hector rolled his eyes. "That's not my friend. He is just a pain in the ass sec-I mean, friend of my brother. He is an annoying, good-for-nothing, muscle head with a scary look, nothing more."

Matthew leaned back against the bench, staring at the ground sullenly. That was typical Hector. Nothing surprising.

But it was one hit too much while he was feeling this sorry for himself. He couldn't muster up a retort, tears burning at hearing what he had been thinking the past weeks out loud.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Matthew closed his eyes, all hunched over himself. Hopefully, they would both leave him alone soon.

"Olive, could you get him a coke from the vending machine over there?" Hector pushed his credit card into the chubby girl's hands. "Take one for yourself too. I'm buying. Sorry, I'm doing it wrong."

"No, that's fine," she shot a timid look towards Matthew. "I'll be right back." She hurried away.

The bench dipped under Hector's weight. "Hey. You are acting weird today."

"Nah, not really," Matthew said, sniffling a little. The water must have gotten into his nose. "Just amazed you are picking up problems left and right. Do you want some of mine?"

Hector's scowl deepened, looking positively scary. "Isaiah?"

Matthew shook his head. That was the only important thing, wasn't it? For Hector for sure.

"Do you want me to call him?" Hector's voice dipped a little, like he wanted to whisper but never tried before, so it came out as normal instead of a shout.

"No. Though you might-" Matthew took a shuddering breath, covering half of his face with his hand. "-you might wanna keep that girl away from me."

"Bad day, eh?" Hector said lazily, one leg coming up on the bench.

Matthew clenched his jaw. "If the voices could stop for a second..." He felt raw and exposed without his shadow, but when it was exhausted, at least it wasn't so loud, screaming at him to tear, to fight, to be angry.

"It'd be like that sometimes." Hector leaned back, hands coming behind his head.

Matthew lifted his head at the nonchalant voice, peeking through his fingers. He just told Hector his shadow was messed up and upset, that he could be dangerous to the girl the other wolf obviously wanted to keep out of the shadow stuff — and Hector didn't react at all. Instead of defending her, ushering her away, getting angry....

Was he that confident he could handle Matthew if something went wrong? Or did he believe in Matthew's exhaustion keeping the shadow at bay?

Matthew couldn't imagine Hector understanding, of coming anywhere close to a state like this one.

And yet the blond wasn't alarmed, choosing the most non-fighting position possible.

Something about the sheer calmness of the scene, the mundanity, the sun coming down on the horizon painting everything in orange, while Hector wasn't making a fuss, trying to solve this or control it...felt comforting.

Olive returned with three cokes, panting for breath from how much she was hurrying. She offered one bottle to Matthew. Hector snatched it and opened it for him, for some weird reason, only then handed it over.

It might have been the right move, because Matt's hands were shaking as he took a sip. The sugar exploded on his tongue wonderfully, though.

Hector clicked his bottle with Olive's, draining half of it in one go. Olive watched him in disbelief.

"What? You wanted to be drawing something? Your sunset is going out."

Olive exclaimed, throwing herself to the ground to grab the right notebook so suddenly Matthew jumped in his seat. "Where did I- ah yes, this one..." She took a thick notebook and colorful chalk, sketching the sunset right there, still on her knees.

"There is nothing weirder than drawing," Hector said thoughtfully. His hand came to rest on the backrest behind Matthew.

The red-haired wolf watched with narrowed eyes as the human fought to save the light from being swallowed by shadows, mind going blissfully blank.

[allamericansbitch]

so i think i finally figured out what exactly put me off taylor, and it wasn't the politics (or lack of it) or generally how she's been since midnights released. i think it's the basic fact that she's stopped being/feeling like she is a musician. like i know she's doing the tour, obviously, but nothing about her including the tour has felt like it's about her work.

for instance i see artists of her generation and even newer ones do your staple few things after they've released new music: you do SNL maybe, maybe a tiny desk concert, maybe BBC live radio, maybe some smaller/closed door live gigs and live performance videos on your YouTube, maybe you speak with Genius or Apple Music like Hozier did about your process. just tiny things that speak about your music and what is after all your day job.

instead what i recall and what i've seen taylor do since midnights came out (or arguably since the red re-recording came out) is simply her go to jimmy fallon or whatever and basically rehash the same lines about the album, or release a hundred combinations and versions of the same thing for people to buy. and this isn't even half the reason why we see her face plastered everywhere: a bulk of it is pap walks, tabloid-y speculation which generally makes me go what even are you now

and i just feel like this is such a wasted opportunity to do more with her music. the last bit of creativity in this sense that i can think of is the folklore long pond studio sessions: they gave her a chance to talk about making the album, and they also added a different texture to the songs themselves.

wow this is actually such a good observation. she really doesnt promote her music anymore, but she does promote her personal life. (and i know shes on tour, but she has the week off in between, she can do an interview over the phone during lunch one of those days off you know) the TIME interview was the perfect example, i would have loved to know what the re-recording process was like from the beginning, if it changes with each album, what she approaches first, how tour affects the re-recordings, etc... but instead we got a good chunk of her and her current partner. i would have loved to see it focus in on her as an artists rather than her personal life.

and if we take the only artist i can think of that doesnt really do promo but is currently releasing music, that's beyonce (not comparing them as artist dont worry), but beyonce is so different from taylor. they both are selling entirely different things. taylor sells relatability, writes about human emotion for the everyday person. she built a good percentage of her career off of relating to people and building a community of people feeling like they personally can relate to her and she can relate to them. beyonce doesnt offer any of that, she sells the fantasy, an escape. her releasing an album and never really promoting it makes sense, her art doesnt thrive off of relatability and feeling like the everyday person. taylors does.

nothing about taylor is about the music anymore. and when it is, it's 'fans' asking for more of it, then getting it, then wanting more. and when we get it- the longest, most intense discussions are about the person they're supposedly about and people creating an entire story surrounding it... not once admiring the song itself and her work. and thats probably why it feels so exhausting, every conversation is stale and tasteless if you're someone who doesnt care about her personal life. it's just the same gossip over and over again and a lot of its been being discussed for over a decade.

[dailyrimuru]

Day 18 - Oops.. (Rambling time about the Tensura game that released yesterday. If you didn't know Tensura had a new game, it wouldn't surprise me) Anyways, been playing the new Tensura game, it's good for what it is. There are many aspects of the game that are VERY similar to parts of the mobile game (not in bad ways, mind you) such as the city-building (which is slightly less customizable but since construction is instant its a bearable tradeoff), the skill upgrades (which have an actual tree this time rather than a weird circle), and the party system with 3 people going out with a supporter giving buffs and whatnot. I'm sure very few of this is original to just Tensura's games, but you can tell that they either took heavy inspiration from the elements of Isekai Memories, or Isekai Memories was a proto version of this game. Don't worry though, there are no gacha elements and no in-game purchases besides the future DLCs. At least not that I'm aware of. As for the story of the game, a lot of it follows canon but it does seem to spend more time in its own original story than Isekai Memories often did. However since I have yet to get to the Orc Lord yet (played it for 4+ hours, the added unique story is long) I don't know much of the full story. I don't even know how far into the game I am and I don't really wanna spoil myself either. While it does sometimes copy/paste screenshots from the anime like the mobile game does (c'mon guys), it does also sometimes reanimate some of the more important scenes which can actually look quite nice. BUT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE THE OUT-OF-CUTSCENE TALKING SPRITES LOOK LIKE THAT. I WOULD'VE PREFERRED IT IF YOU JUST MADE THEM STILL IMAGES, WHY DID YOU MAKE THEIR MOUTHS MOVE LIKE ITS AN AI-LIPSYNCH?! HELL, IT MIGHT EVEN BE AI, I GENUINELY CAN'T TELL. I spam caps, but it's not that big of an issue once you learn to ignore it. It's just... why? Why did you even bother? Just make it still sprites at that point. As for the original characters, I do not care for this goblin, please stop making me fight him 5 times in a row I wanna learn about the otherworlder and build my McRimuru's. The game's unique otherworlder (or at least one of them as there seems to be two, in this case I'm talking about the girl) seems to have some interesting things going on, though it seems she's only now beginning to get her attention in the story, so I'm interested to see where it goes. The goblin, or bugbear as he technically is, is fine... I guess? His reasoning is kind of annoying... "To get revenge on the direwolves for killing goblins, I will kill everyone in this town... Which is made up of mostly goblins." Eventually it starts to make more sense as his goal becomes less getting revenge and more to just actually beat Rimuru after he gets his ass handed to him 5 times in a row (I'm not joking, you fight him like around five times with only one or two quests between each fight. To give the fights some credit, they've been some of the harder fights of the game, so I do appreciate the challenge. Just wish it was more spread out so I came to dread those infrequent but difficult fights instead of being like "Am I fighting him again? I'm fighting him again... alright, here we go."). Still though, I'm more interested in this otherworlder and this new nation they introduced than this goblin, though so far in the story the goblin has gotten most of the attention. Ofc the story is far from over, I've not finished the game yet, and from what I've seen before I got off for the night it seems the story is heading into an arc more focused on the Otherworlder and MAYBE this other nation, so I'm excited to see where they go with it.

[matrixxsystem]

Luck Runs Out Part 9

It had been a few days since that night, Leo only had a handful more of those visions, or memories? We can't really call it a flashback because it's not the past. But I don't really think the word flashforward fits this either.. Hmm.. And its definitely not a premonition.. We'll just stick with the word vision, it just fits best I think. These visions consisted of smaller things, running and hiding, small fights and carrying wounded back to their base underground. Evacuation and lots of things that happened very early on. Anyway- It had been a few days was the point, and Leo's problem wasn't getting any better. Whenever he had a vision he'd find Casey and sit in his room to talk about it once he was able to break out of it, they would stay up for hours talking about it sometimes. About Casey's memories and if he was there with Leo for any of them. But tonight, it just so happened to be something different. 

Casey had been in his room, playing back some audio of when he was much younger, it was his birthday and it was one of the only times he'd really been able to celebrate. There was something like a cake with a single candle on top, Leo was there but keeping his distance.. They weren't that close yet and it showed that Leo wasn't trying to invade his space. They did fight a lot when he was little, mostly just because he didn't want to let go of his mom or her memory, the less she was around the more he blamed Leo for sending her on missions, despite him not actually being the one to do that- Mikey stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder, humming softly and other joined in, harmonizing as the lights dimmed and orange sparks swirled around little Casey. Mikey's eyes started to glow as he moved his other hand, controlling the lights. He watched his younger self with a little smile as the video showed him in awe of the mystics, Mikey made shapes and patterns, animals and anything his mind could imagine for him, "Happy birthday Casey Jones.." He said at the end of his light show, a few outlines of spirits now standing with him, most likely people he knew, there were a few kid spirits too, some he faintly recognized as kids he used to play with.. They smiled and softly cheered with the living as he blew out the candle. The lights came back on but then there was a small rumble and the lights went out again. He looked over at Mikey with a worried expression but Mikey patted his shoulder, reassuring it wasn't anything to worry about, they were in an old building underground after all, Donnie went to fix it and the video ended. Casey set his mask down and felt the floor shake again, but in his room this time. A few things fell off his shelf and he felt his heart rate triple, "No no- Donatello told me about these.. These are normal- Earthquake, right, its the layers inside the Earth shifting from a sudden release of energy in the lithosphere, nothing to worry about..."

Casey ended up down the hall anyway after trying to sleep but only finding bad dreams waiting for him, he pulled back the curtain to Leos room, it was maybe 4 am. "Psst.. Leo- Are you awake?" Leo was laid out on his bed, laying on his stomach with his arms and legs sprawled out like he'd been dropped off the seventh floor. Casey rolled his eyes and gently knocked on his shell, Leo shifted a bit and made a small string of chirps, too tired for words. Casey rolled his eyes again and chirped back, he had a pretty good understanding of the way Leo and his brothers spoke to each other without words. When he was much younger it was like a game they'd play, they'd play games similar to Marco Polo or Capture the Flag but use the turtle language to communicate in code. So now it was like second nature to him. Leo whined and gave a lower chirp, clearly it was too early for this. Casey chirped back in agreement, nodded a little as he sat on the edge of the bed. There was a moment of silence before Casey spoke, "I had.. I guess you could call it a nightmare. The night master Donatello passed.. The hideout was so, quiet. And when it happened, he predicted he'd have at least another week, I know it's selfish but I wish he'd kept fighting a little longer. He might've been ready but.. No one else was." Leo let out low hum as Casey draped himself across Leos shell, "Give him a break Case, you know tello, he only does what he wants. Even if it's stupid, I don't think he was ready, I think.. He was just tired... And we can't really blame him for that. Get some sleep Case, you need all you can get.." Casey huffed, "Yeah but-" He perked up a little, not knowing how younger Leo had any memory of Donnie's sickness, till now he'd only seen Mikey's death, and he didn't mention anything about Donnie to him yet.. "Leo..?" But there was no response this time, just soft snores. Casey closed his eyes for a bit, trying to rationalize it to himself but eventually he just fell back asleep. There was no point in trying to make sense of things now when he was this tired. The festival was tomorrow after all and he wanted to be ready for it, as ready as he could be at least..

About another four hours later is when Leo woke up enough to realize there was a human sleeping on top of him, "Casey?" He called in a tired voice, "When did you get here-?" Casey made a shrugging motion and pulled Leos blanket over himself letting out a weak chirp. Leo was quiet for a moment before his eyes shot open and he sat up, Casey falling back onto the bed with a much more alarmed sound. Leo whipped his head around to see Casey burrito-ed in his blanket looking pretty surprised. Leo just stared at him for a moment before extending his hand to help him up, "Where.. Where did you learn to speak like that?" Casey took his hand and sat up, "You don't remember me coming in? I came in a couple hours ago cause I couldn't sleep.. And I dunno, I've always kinda known it? I grew up with it in my time so it's kinda second nature?" Leo was quiet for another moment but decided not to dwell too much on it and got up, "Mmm fine, I really don't have the brain power to try and process that right now." He stretched a little then reached over grabbing his prosthetic off his bedside table and connecting it into the socket on his shoulder. 

Oh yeah? We didn't tell you? Part of the design on Leo's arm is that there's a sort of, case around his stump that has a locking mechanism for different arms. Currently there's really only one fully functional arm model that Leo uses and it's just for basic things with a normal range of motion and relatively realistic strength equivalent to his real arm. And here's some other cool facts about the arm, there's a micro saft battery inside able to up the output of the arm so it can in an emergency do some serious heavy lifting but I don't think that'll come up in this fic. But on another note about the saft battery because it's slowly becoming Donnie's new hyper fixation right now just after the YBCO superconductor, his modified version of it can also basically self destruct letting out a huge electrical blast, enough to say.. Overload a door locked by an electrical security system..? Just for reference. But the exterior of the arm itself is also pretty damn cool, it's mad with a mix of titanium and hafnium carbide (It's a super heat resistant chemical Donnie managed to obtain through less than legal ways, but we're not here about that, shits expensive and you can't expect him to sit by while rich people have all the fun right? Okay so, none of this is really vital information to the reader, but hey I worked moderately hard on this design so I'll be damned if I can't rant about it in a way that's unavoidable so at least someone out there knows how cool this shit is-

Once the arm was on he headed out with Casey, making his way into the kitchen. He saw Donnie leaning against the counter with his signature "Worlds Best Mad Scientist" mug and pointed to him then made the sign for coffee, Donnie gave a little nod, "What you want some?" He asked, a little hint of surprise in his voice since it wasn't often Leo wanted hot coffee first thing in the morning, usually he liked iced coffee but even that wasn't something he did often. Leo just nodded, his eyes fighting to stay open as he sat at the table, Donnie just shrugged and got his brothers unicorn mug out, if he was too tired to talk and was even signing he could probably use a pick-me-up. Casey sat across the table grabbing a piece of fruit from the little basket in the center of the table. 

Donnie poured the coffee and set it in front of Leo, then turned to get the sugar and cream but when he turned back around Leo had already downed most of it. He made a confused and slightly disgusted look, "Leo- That was plain black coffee-" Leo just nodded as he set the cup down, "Where'd you get this one Dee, it doesn't even taste expired-" Donnie made an even more confused look, "Expired? Nardo what are you on about I just bought it last week??" Casey perked up a little, getting the feeling that Leo wasn't entirely here right now. Donnie didn't know anything about Leo having future visions right? Well even if he did, he wouldn't know that in the future most ingredients got near impossible to find, like sugar, not only that but with most plants gone coffee started being made from more abundant plants like dandelion so in the future it definitely doesn't taste like it does now here in the past.. Or would now be the present? Leo just looked back at him a little confused, looking him up and down like he was looking for something, "You look.. Better today? That's a relief.." Donnie looked over to Casey, "Did he hit his head on his way over here or something? What am I missing here?" Casey shrugged a little, "Uh, I don't know if I should say anything? I mean I guess it's fine, you're the smartest one so if there's anything anyone can do it'd be you.."

"Casey? Please tell me this isn't some weird alternate dimension where everything is the same except all the coffee in the world is expired or something-" Casey chuckle a little, "No, no it's not that" Donnie let out a relived sigh, "It's just.. The future timeline that doesn't exist may be trying to weave it's way into ours and Leo's been getting some memories and visions of the future, so sometimes he spaces out and.. For him he's probably having some vision about breakfast in the hideout, I'm guess around when you first started getting sick.. I'm not really sure what he's seeing, he sees us, but he's acting like Sensei right now.." Donnie sat at the table beside Leo, "So.. He's like, dimension hopping?"

"Kind of? I don't think it's quite that big yet, he's still here after all. But his brain and Sensei's, since they're supposed to be the same, I think it's like, all the future stuff also being shot back into the past. You guys have that ninja soul thing that let's you talk to each other and store things like you soul and your memories right?"

"So.. And this is a stretch mind you, but if the Leo from the futures ninpo is still alive, all the memories and feelings stored within future Leos soul could be transported here into our Leo even if the older one is no longer among the living." He suddenly looked much more upset, "Wait.. If Leo's getting these now, does that mean the one from your time line is... Dead? A-And if he is, why hasn't anyone else gotten memories? Why is he the only one? I mean how long do you have to be dead for that sort of thing to work? Was it even something they knew could happen? How long has this been going on for??" Casey shrugged again, "I mean Leo came to me a few days ago about it, I don't know how many he's had or how intense, Usagi was there the first time and was able to snap him out of it before he saw anything too bad.. But since then I only know of a few he's had about stuff like this, just the boring day-to-day when we weren't being attacked." Donnie nodded a little, Leo was just drinking the cup of sadness as they talked. 

There was a rumbling down the hall that started to shake the room, Donnie checked his wrist cuff and put his hands out, "Don't panic it's just an earthquake, it's only a 3.6 so nothing major is happening it's just a little rumble-" Casey's panic toned down a bit hearing that there was no danger but Leo was looking around the room as things shook. "Leo..?" Casey said, reaching it hand out slowly, "Hey, you here with us?" Leo looked back as Casey but only saw a much younger version of him looking scared as the building shook, rubble started falling from the ceiling and Casey looked so.. Small... He stood up and grabbed Casey's hand "10-33 we need to get everyone to the West exit-" Casey pulled back, "Wait-"

"Stow it Jones, I will not have this roof come down on us, Cassandra would have my shell if I let anything happen to you-" Donnie grabbed Leo's other arm and looked at Casey, "Do we let it play out like with sleep walking? Or do we try and break him out of it?" Casey shrugged, "How should I know I've never dealt with this before-!"

"What even is a 10-33?"

"It means 'emergency' I think, we have a bunch of number codes for stuff like this." 

"Well you were there in the future when this happened, how do it play out? Is it okay to just let it happen?" Casey thought for a moment, the earthquake was already over for them but Leo still looked pretty damn stressed.. "One of the first times we used the escape tunnels, I don't remember much, I was only 8- I think, I think I know what we can do, I'm gonna take him around the halls for a second, let him think we're evacuating and take him to Raph's room, master Raphael always had a way of talking to him when his mind was clouded.. You might wanna call Usagi and have him come early, I don't know if it'd be okay to let him go into the city if he's gonna be stuck in the future all day..."

"He could be stuck all day???"

"I don't know?! But it's a possibility that we have to be ready for even if its not the case right?" Donnie hesitantly nodded and Let Leos arm go, very much ignoring whatever the slider was rambling on about. "This is so weird, fine- Just go, he better snap out of it soon or I'm kicking his ass into the next life all together-" 

They both parted ways and Casey took Leo walking with him down the hall, "Leo-" He called trying to hopefully snap him out of it if he could. "Leo c'mon, we have to find a way to ground you or something, something to bring you back to the past.. Or present I guess?" Leo looked back to Casey, there was a moment where Casey looked older, and the hide out looked different... But then he blinked and he was back. He looked around and back to Casey, "There's something weird going on- I-I don't think Kraang has any magic but- I keep seeing things-" Casey looked up at Leo and sighed a little, "C'mon sensei, we have to see master Raphael, I think he'll know what to do.." Leo looked a little confused but he nodded and followed Casey down the hall, he made a B-line to Raphs room, pulling Leo inside with him, "Raph?"

Raph perked up, he had a small ball of yarn beside him and was.. Crocheting? Okay... Interesting.. "Oh- Hey guys, what's up?" Casey just gestured to Leo, "I don't even know where to begin with this but.."

"Oh hey Raph, watcha makin this time?" Leo tilted his head a little, looking at the colored yarn with curiosity. Casey just looked at him and narrowed his eyes, "Leo..?"

"Yeah?" 

"Where are you right now?"

"Uhh... Raph's room? Same as you?" Raph tilted his head a little, "I'm confused... I'm making another bear though since you asked."

"I'm confused too.. Leo you're back?" Leo shrugged a little, "I.. Don't remember ever leaving"

"Oh did you guys feel that earthquake earlier that was crazy- Casey how you holdin' up with all that?" Casey just looked between Leo and Raph for a minute before sighing and pulling his phone out calling Donnie. "Donatello speaking, how bad is the situation?" 

"Honestly no clue, he's back but doesn't remember leaving in the first place.. So I guess it's fine now..?"

"Ah.. Well. Usagi's already here so, not sure what to tell him now. He's en route so you guys can handle it, I have to get something ready. Byeeee" Casey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Alright. Guess if it's all over we can just forget it, we should get ready to go Usagi's taking us to some yokai store to get proper clothes first since you wanted em." Leo perked up with a smile, "Sagi's here?" He asked already heading out of Raph/s room to go meet him. Raph put his stuff away and got up, "Casey.. What was the problem? Is Leo alright?" Casey shrugged a little, "I don't know.. I mean he's fine now but... This is gonna sound stupid but we have some time so I'll just start at the beginning." Raph nodded and gently patted Casey's shoulder, "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out okay?" Casey nodded a little, Raph really did know what to say in times like this..

"Okay.. You might wanna sit back down for this though..." LRO Part 1 Part 10

[there-but-not]

De Philosophiā Jedium (1.6k)

I wrote a little something on Jedi faith and philosophy. The story features Anakin and Obi-Wan, mostly in dialogues as they discuss why Jedi meditate. It really sounds like such a small thing, but if you think about it, it might as well be as important to them as lightsabers. In the Phantom Menace, Qui-Gon literally stopped fighting for a while to meditate in the duel against Maul. Why is meditation such a big deal that he did that? Let's see my take on it here if you are interested.

This story also available on ao3 under my profile if it's more convenient for you that way.

"Why do you meditate?"

"To connect with the Force."

"But aren't we all made of the Force or something like that? Why do we have to connect to something that's already there?"

Obi-Wan barely manages to suppress a shudder. "You want the long answer then."

Anakin shrugs. "At this point, you're going to give me that anyway. What does it matter what I want?"

"Well, you are right in that a Jedi, like any beings in the galaxy, has the Force inside them. However, we have to learn to differentiate the sensation of our physical vessel from the will of the Force. So that when we listen to its guidance, we are actually listening to the Force instrad of our own selfish needs."

Anakin's eyebrows scrunch up. "What are we even doing, then? If such a thing as the will of the Force exists, then would it not accomplish whatever it wants without our interference? And maybe we can just chill instead of meditating all day and going to those boring missions."

"Have you considered, perhaps, that the will of the Force dictates that we are here. The formation and continued existence of our Order for millenia are more unlikely than not to have happened, given that all matters tend toward disorder. And yet here we are, serving the Force in way of our people. Is that not a proof?"

Anakin has found a pillar closest to him and hugs it very tightly. "My brain is scrambled. Please, no more."

"There is much to discuss, padawan, though it can wait until nightfall."

"Have mercy, please."

---

"What is the worst thing that can happen if a Jedi does not meditate?"

"It depends on the person," Obi-Wan muses. "One thing I can think of is death, although I'm unsure if that is, in fact the worst or not. Lunacy, perhaps."

Seeing the fear on Anakin's face, he's quick to soothe, "You don't have to worry about it, dear. It will not happen to you, yet, as you are still early in your training, although that will change. You need to regulate your emotions. If you can't meditate to calm yourself enough to release your emotions into the Force, then strong emotions can build up in you. Imagine yourself as a balloon. It can expand with pressure to a certain point, but over that and it will explode. Exploding, mind you, is not very polite and lethal to sentients in most cases.

"Oh, dear me, am I scaring you with all this?" Ow asks. "But there is no cause for fear here, as you'll meditate everyday after this right, Anakin?"

---

"I'm considering whether this is the right path forward for me?"

"Being a Jedi?" Obi-Wan asks, because he senses Anakin needs this clarification.

Anakin nods hesitantly.

"Why don't we find out?"

"Are you suggesting meditation?" Anakin asks with hysteria creeping into his voice.

"Do you have any other suggestion?" Obi-Wan asks with an amused quirk of his lip.

"Anything but meditation," Anakin says.

Obi-Wan nods proudly. "Very good, Anakin. You're very clear with your communication here. Alas, I have to use my position as your master to veto that. What do you say to that?"

"I hate you. I'm not going to be a Jedi anymore. This is all bullshit," Ak says with feelings.

Obi-Wan nods. "Very good. There will be no need for you to meditate then."

Anakin feels pleasantly surprised.

"I think it is helpful, still, to consider why it is so difficult for you to meditate. Is there any feeling you are trying to suppress? Something you are trying to run away from? From what I see, you very much want to be a Jedi. The fact that you are willing to throw away everything up to this point because of your resistance to meditation is very much worth thinking about, don't you think?"

"Can you speak in normal words?" Anakin grits out.

"Meditate," Obi-Wan says.

Anakin screams.

---

"I don't get it. Why are you so obsessed with meditation?" Anakin asks.

Obi-Wan quirks an eyebrow. "From how often you bring it up, one would think you are much a fan of meditation yourself."

Anakin bares his teeth. "Don't."

"Let's bargain, shall we? I know you enjoy podracing very much. If you meditate with me everyday for half an hour, I'll take you to the podracing museum this weekend."

Anakin's eyes widen comically, before narrowing in suspicion. "Will you? How do I know you'll not mind-trick me into forgetting this promise?"

Obi-Wan is squeezing the bridge of his nose very aggressively at this point. "After one year of knowing me, do you think I'll do that to you?"

"I don't want to believe that of you, but you make me meditate ."

Obi-Wan sighs patiently.

The weekend comes, and Obi-Wan brings Anakin to the podracing museum.

Despite all the complaining, Anakin has been patiently sitting a quarter of an hour and then more impatiently a few more minutes everyday.

Obi-Wan does not want to call what Anakin doing meditation, but progress is progress and should be rewarded accordingly.

---

"What now?" Anakin asks. He's still in quite a good mood from the trip away from the Temple.

"Why do you think we meditate?" Obi-Wan asks.

"To suffer needlessly?" Anakin answers.

"What else?" 

"To be boring?"

"What else?"

"You said it was to connect to the Force," Anakin recalls.

"And you said the Force was already within all of us. Why then do we meditate?"

"I don't know. I don't karking know. If you want me to know, tell me. Or better yet not. Let's go have some noodles." Anakin pleads.

"Language, padawan. See, Anakin, this air that we breathe, can we see it?"

"No, but I know the Force exists."

"Yes, and coming back to the air. You know that it exists because you're breathing it but you can't see that?"

"Whatever you say," Anakin says. 

Obi-Wan points toward the noodle stall ahead of them, and Anakin perks up considerably.

"So you can say from a certain point of view that your eyes are deceiving you. Your own senses are deceiving you. We sentients might be able to perceive the world around us, but what we perceive will not be as it truly is as our senses are contorting everything as they allow us to take it in."

"Hmm. This tastes really good." Anakin replies, his mouth full of noodles. He's ordered one for himself and two for Obi-Wan, probably in an attempt to shut Obi-Wan up.

Obi-Wan takes a bite before continuing. "Eat, Anakin. We'll continue our discussion after."

They eat a bowl each, the third, they share with each other. Once they are onto their shared bowl, Anakin is not so eager to eat anymore.

"You said it tasted good a few minutes before. What changed? Why are you no longer inclined to eat anymore?"

"I can't. I'm too full," Anakin says. 

Obi-Wan takes another bite. "If I order you another bowl, will you want it?"

"Hell, no, Master. You said we were going to continue after eating."

"You just told me you would not want any more noodles. Besides, we're having a conversation on noodles, not Jedi philosophy."

"Everything you talk about becomes Jedi philosophy," Anakin says with a scowl.

"You're not wrong. Where were we, anyway? The noodles, yes. A few minutes ago, you were inclined to eat noodles, I suppose, from the fact that you ordered three for us?"

Anakin nods resignedly.

"What changed from then to now? The noodles should taste the same. The time difference is quite small, but you mentioned being full. As other factors are rather negligible, let's say that you no longer want noodles because you're full instead of hungry. See how impermanent your own desires are? One moment, you think you want noodles. The other, you reject them." As Obi-Wan says the last part, he dangles noodles over Anakin's bowl. The apprentice hastens to push away the chopsticks in his Master's hand.

"You see what I mean now? And this is just a small thing. What if the feeling is stronger, and the situation more important, such as in an interplanetary negotiation. If one side's delegation includes your most hated enemy and the other those you consider allies, will you not be swayed by love and hatred to assist one side at the expense of the other? It would be likely, as is the natural inclination of sentient minds.

"See, that is why Jedi practice meditation--not simply for the sake of our spiritual practice, but as a means to achieve the equanimity of the mind--in addition to being able to hear the will of the Force for what it is."

Anakin looks like his head is exploding.

Obi-Wan feels a wave of sympathy for his charge. "It's a lot to take in, dear. You'll get it one day, hopefully."

---

"Do you know what is the worst thing that can happen to a Jedi who meditates?"

"Hmm?"

"Insanity at the very least," Anakin replies.

"Is this your way of asking for help?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Free me from this suffering. Don't make me meditate anymore," Anakin moans.

"You don't have to meditate if you don't wish to be a Jedi. But if you wish to continue on this path, then you'll have to bear with it.

"On a brighter side, meditation does not have to be as boring as it might appear to you. After all, it is more about the conscious state of the mind rather than the physical form.

"Come, padawan. On your feet," Obi-Wan says.

"Is it any better really?" Anakin asks after Obi-Wan teaches him walking meditation.

"It would depend on you. I personally enjoy sitting meditation better."

"I enjoy not meditating better," Anakin grumbles.

[blackestnight]

waking dreams

what if we… were in a never-ending nightmare sustained by eldritch gods as punishment for unspeakable sins… and i cut your head off .. aha ha, just kidding.. unless..?

nini and aoife reminded me of a thing i wrote for bloodborne au months ago but never actually got around to posting, which will make complete sense to one person, partial sense to about six other people, and no sense to anyone else, but you know what? it’s fine. you don’t need any context aside from my refrain of “DECAPITATION (ROMANTIC)” (this is also a content warning for decapitation (romantic))

The old workshop reeked, when Aymeric closed his eyes—of dust, rotting wood, candle wax, metal and oil and rust, both from the blades on the walls and the ever-present blood, in bottles and vials and ground into his clothes. The stillness in the building itself had always reminded him a bit of a church, with the workbench serving as an altar to the old gods of slaughter.

He felt shivers prickling up the skin of his neck, and took a deep breath. There was no danger here. None that he wasn’t willing to turn his back on, anyway.

When he opened his eyes again, the moonlight through the warped glass of the window caught on the swords left abandoned by their makers: cleavers, trick canes, a scythe flashing like a grim smile in the darkness, twin to the one Hanami was using now in the misty fields. She really was so skilled with it. What a mercy.

He shuddered again at the crunch of loose stone, and the creak of the floorboard behind him—when he turned, there she was, resplendent in her dark coat, her scythe held loosely in one hand. He supposed there was blood on her somewhere—it was unavoidable, in their line of work—but it wasn’t on the blade, which shone clean and bright.

“Come on,” she said, her voice as gentle as Aymeric had ever heard it, quiet as a grave.

He shook his head even as he took a step toward her. “I could—”

“No,” she told him, much firmer—oh, there was the flint in her eyes, ready to spark against steel. “I told you. Keep your hands clean. This is my work.”

“I know,” he insisted. Maybe this was what prayer felt like, for those more devout than he: a desperate plea to be heard, if just for a moment, by a power greater than he really understood. “But I…I do not wish to leave you alone. After.”

Hanami shifted her weight; her arm moved, too, a gentle tilt of her wrist to prop her scythe against her shoulder. “Let me worry about after,” she said. “I will make do. Are you ready?”

He took another deep breath (metal and dust and copper, from rust and from blood). The release left him feeling…deflated, somehow. It was pointless to fight her. She’d proved it, soundly, repeatedly, and—perhaps selfishly—he didn’t want to part on bad terms. Didn’t want to fight. It had been such a long, long night already.

“If you are,” he said, “then yes. I am.”

The garden surrounding the workshop reminded him of home, clearly having been lovely in its past life before being left to rot and decay in the darkness. The flowers had largely been replaced by headstones, which they wove between as Hanami led him around the hillside. Fog swirled around their ankles, making the whole landscape seem boundless; in the distance, beyond what he imagined were cliffs, there were abandoned ships’ masts canted at tired angles, a sort of forest of rigging and timber. He’d never heard any water here, but then this place was always unnaturally still. What flowers there were bent back to standing under their feet, so he couldn’t even mark the paths that she had walked before—couldn’t begin to guess where…

No matter.

Hanami led him along a meandering route through the greenery and the graves until they passed through the fence marking the boundaries of the workshop yard and into the open field. The scent of metal and rust faded into crushed grass and oncoming rain. The slope became gentler, smoother, a steady roll down into the fog and the drop, framed at its high point by the skeletal fingers of trees, and a pair of dirt mounds below it.

Fresh graves. Aymeric knew, with a certainty deeper than his marrow, that the long haft marking one would be Estinien’s rifle spear, and surely the glint at the head of the other would be from Ninira’s Tonitrus.

“On your knees,” Hanami said.

His sword would make a decent gravestone, he thought as he sank to his knees in the soft meadow grass. Better with the shield to lean against it and catch the light.

Aymeric considered closing his eyes, the better to breathe in the midnight dew and chlorophyll, and the faintest scent of sword oil and sweat, but he decided against it. The ground around him was clean, not a single blood-spatter to be found, and with the moon before him and the very edges of the trees guarding his view of the gentle slope down into the fog, he could think of few things he would rather watch as he died.

“Thank you,” he said, unable to force his voice above a whisper. It was such a stunning view. He wondered whether Hanami had taken such care to scout out places to lead Ninira and Estinien—marveled at her care in her execution.

The air was still, so he could hear her every step as she rustled the flowers underfoot. He bowed his head. “No,” she said, “keep your head straight.” It was her glove, not her sword, which brushed his jawline, lifting his chin.

He did as she asked, rolling his shoulders back—perfect posture. The silver light washed over him like icewater.

“Count back from ten,” she said.

He smiled. “Ten,” he said. Her boot crunched in the grass behind him. Aymeric thought, if the moon always looked this lovely, he could understand why some men felt compelled to worship it. “Nine.”

Hanami was a swift and merciful hunter. He never even made it to eight.

[mariacallous]

This week, President Joe Biden signed an executive order on caregiving, which may sound like Washingtonspeak. It isn’t. It’s entirely possible that the order could make a real difference in the real lives of some real Americans.

But it’s still just executive action, which means there are limits to its potential. In that sense, the executive order is also a case study in the need for much more ambitious action ― action that will take a lot of work on politics and maybe some work on policy as well.

The order is basically an instruction to federal agencies to figure out ways of making child care and care for the elderly and people with disabilities more affordable, accessible and reliable ― all while helping out the caregivers themselves. The need for that kind of action is clear enough, or at least it should be.

Just this week, data analyst Jeremy Ney published an article showing that millions of Americans are paying a quarter of their incomes on outside child care, according to newly released Labor Department data. As Ney notes, that burden is especially crushing for low-income Americans who simply don’t have a quarter of their income left after paying for housing, food and other necessities. And then there are the parents who aren’t worried about the cost of child care — because they can’t find any.

Some child care centers closed during the pandemic. Those that didn’t or reopened are having trouble filling staff openings because of the tight labor market ― and the fact that if you’re looking for work, you might make more manning a register at Target than you can feeding, nurturing and watching over toddlers. The child care workforce is still about 60,000 short of where it was before the pandemic, according to the U.S. Labor Department. In a recent article from The 19th featuring reader emails about struggles to find child care, some described waiting lists for slots that measured in years, not months, with one saying they knew of a child care worker who gave out waiting list spots as wedding gifts. (Yes, wedding gifts ― not baby shower gifts.)

The labor scarcity extends to the workforce that staffs nursing homes and other forms of assisted living, as well as the workforce that goes into people’s homes to assist them there, which is what most seniors and people with disabilities would prefer. In the face of these shortages, some of the people who need care end up going without help at risk to their health or well-being, while others end up in the large-scale facilities they’re desperate to avoid.

Policymakers know all about this. Biden and his Democratic allies spent much of 2021 and 2022 trying to enact a set of sweeping, potentially groundbreaking initiatives to make both child care and home care more affordable and more reliable. It was supposed to be part of what they were calling the “Build Back Better” plan.

But the initiatives were expensive, each one requiring several hundred billion dollars of new expenditures in the first decade, and they fell out of the final legislation ― later renamed the “Inflation Reduction Act” ― at the insistence of Sen. Joe Manchin (D-W.Va.) and a handful of other lawmakers who opposed so much new spending. (HuffPost covered that history here, if you need a refresher.)

Biden and the Democrats say they haven’t given up trying to enact new reforms on that scale. But with a Republican House pushing for massive cuts in federal spending ― and holding the nation’s economic well-being hostage in an attempt to get its way ― the prospects for enacting such a program in this Congress are virtually nil. That explains the executive order, which represents Biden’s attempt to make a downpayment on a much larger effort.

[miseriathome]

re: last reblog

CW suicide and mental health and mental breakdown and all of that

idk about all the nature stuff but that it, that's exactly it, that's the precise sentiment I've been grappling with for months now, trying to figure out how to explain to my therapist. That my ability to cope with adversity has become so mechanized and so automated that I've lost a core rudiment of my humanity. I feel it in the way I say "I am physically incapable of killing myself" in the sense of being incapacitated, in the sense of being viscerally unable to perform a critical action, and I get told "good! :)" as if being stuck in an endless internal scream with no outlet is somehow better than being a person with agency and free will and rational decision-making functions. Not even because I want to be dead or because I believe I should kill myself, because there are things I love and enjoy about the experience of being alive, but the fact that I don't have the choice, I don't have the option to exercise my suicidality anymore because that extension of my autonomy has been tortured out of me. The suicidality exists internally, screaming for a release that I can't give it. My shift lead marveled about how cool and calm my poker face is, and how she never would have known how deeply upset I was unless I had said something. It was like she was praising my control and discipline when really I'm trapped in a goddamn cage and there are no options, there is literally nothing I can do to let off the pressure that builds and builds and builds. It hurts, it physically hurts and conceptually I know there are remedies for that but I can and I do persevere and I shouldn't have to. I should be debilitated, I should be screaming in agony, but it's been beaten out of me. Those aren't skills I have anymore. My body is a cage, my body is a fucking mech suit that continues to move no matter how fucking much I want it to stop. I can put names to my emotions and my experiences, I can say I'm irritated or overwhelmed, I can say I am experiencing physical pain, but naming it doesn't do anything except make other people clap for how "well" I'm doing. It's like other people's understanding of suffering stops and ends with feel-good pop psych that's used by the worried well but I'm not worried and I am unwell, those are the problems. I can name that I am experiencing distress but I can't feel it, I'm not allowed to feel it, the entire structure of the world around me discourages me from feeling it and praises its repression, but the scream needs release. It's un-fucking-sustainable to be an unperson. It's fucked up that this is rewarded, it's fucked up that people are happy that I am missing such a vital part of the human experience. "I am incapable of killing myself" isn't fucking praise-worthy, it's a horror story. It's a goddamn cry for help, I am trying to articulate that I have been so deeply violated by psychiatric institutionalization that I am no longer a person, I no longer have the choice to live, I am required to. It's not even that I intend to act on suicidality, it's that there is no other option that my body can perform. I was robbed of the option to get to choose to live. I need someone to understand Everything around me and inside of me is screaming and that's supposed to be a good thing. I'm supposed to be thankful. It's supposed to be a mark of my value that I "did this to myself." I went through something so deeply traumatic and dehumanizing that a core piece of my humanity has been severed from my Self and no one gives a crap. And it's supposed to be a good thing. No matter what I do, I keep moving forward and maybe I don't want to. Conceptually I know I'm having a fucking "panic attack" but it won't fucking escape my goddamn flesh cage. I can't make my pain leak into places where it can be seen. I can't relieve the pressure of all the things that are festering inside my bones because there's no hole, there's no outlet. I'm rotting and my physical body is eating itself and there is no emotional space that I'm allowed (capable) of having where that can be expressed in a way that's meaningful, that acknowledges my agency.

[transmandrake]

This is rich coming from someone with adhd who's finished very little, but, gotta say, one of my longest pet peeves is advice thats like

"dont start with the really big thing you want to make! Start with little things to get better until you can do what you actually want to do!"

This seems like good advice but, as someone who has basically worked on like 1-3 ideas at a time Ever, and really should be the textbook example of why you dont do this, I dont think it really matters.

If you make something, and come back to it years later, and redo it, is the original unfinished? Is the redo and the original two separate things or a chronological view of the same thing?

I really don't think someone who redoes the same small piece of a big thing over and over 10 times necessarily is failing or not learning as much as someone who does 10 different small things completely. The only difference is probably a less varied learning, and that one person has 10 things to show off and the other has maybe 1 that doesnt stand on its own.

Does that matter? Its probably a better comparison of learning, but, does it really impact your learning itself?

Yes, tunnel vision isnt good, but i dont think this advice actually helps with that... its just as easy to do 10 slightly different things and not learn much. Or you could work on 10 wildly different parts of a bigger thing. The scope of the project does not necessarily correlate with potential learning.

It doesnt matter how big the thing you want to make is, what matters is that its the thing you Want To Make.

Like... you know what? You don't have to finish anything. Its not your job. Unless it is in which youre kinda beyond this... Theres no like. Exp gain bonus when you finish something. Nothing is ever finished, just stops being working on.

I think this advice... is very geared towards Making Products. Finishing and releasing things, schedules, limitations... Obviously these matter but it all kinda revolves around the idea that things finish, at all. That the end goal of creativity is eyes on your work, a distinct Thing that can be Shared.

I think theres a somewhat silly idea that people literally start to work on their big project and like. Lose their marbles when they cant instantly know how to do all of it. People definitely underestimate how much work has to go into things, but I dont think that people start learning something with the mindset they... dont need to learn things. I had no idea how to model my creatures when i started learning blender, I literally only wanted to do that, that doesnt mean i was 'starting with something small' when i clicked on a 'how blender works' tutorial, modelling tutorial or rigging tutorial. I knew those were building blocks to the thing i wanted to do. My first models were garbage but they were what I *wanted* to make.

I'm never going to finish my comic, I'm never going to model all my creatures, I'm never going to get all of my ideas out of my head and into a presentable form. This is okay. In fact, this is good! Being done sounds horrible. There is no goal, there is no limit. And stopping worrying about that has ironically made it so much easier to do stuff and start stuff, knowing I can just start over if I fuck up. Finished things, don't have as many mistakes, and mistakes are so, so important to have.

[lesbian-not-american27]

Ooooohohohohohohohohoh >:))))) you’re going to regret this >:DDDD

Ok this is probably going to be pretty Aus centric because idk shit about fire hydrants in other countries but I know about the ones I see in the ground everywhere so here we go I will have photos also please please please ask me questions

So fire hydrants in Australia, at least it more suburban/ rural places like I’m used to, fire hydrants aren’t those big red things you see in movies and shows and stuff. Usually fire hydrants you see both arent very obvious and designed to be easy to spot.

Here’s some photos of the types of hydrants you’ll commonly see. They’re commonly spray painted yellow for visibility, but the paint can be worn over time and it may be less visible if the hydrant isn’t regularly used or maintained, or even if they just forget to repaint it. These ground hydrants are used because they’re cheaper to build and maintain, plus they’re harder to damage accidentally. So, the question is, how do you use one?

Hydrants aren’t actually that difficult to open as long as you have something called a hydrant bar. I actually can’t find a photo of one online because I looked it up and it gave me pictures of a different bar which is not what I’m talking about and don’t know how to use :|| so it’s basically like a crowbar but entirely straight. The flat part at the end of the hydrant bar gets put into the little groove and lever it open. The hydrant basically opens like a little flap. It has a bit that looks like a hinge but it’s not connected to anything it’s just there so once you flip the door up it’s entirely separate.

Do not, and I repeat DO NOT ever use your fingers to pick up the door of the hydrant. It is very heavy and if you’re not careful you will jam your fingers in it. You will not be able to open a hydrant just with your hands and the groove for the bar is too small and the door is too heavy to get good leverage but still. Do not it half ass when you have it partially opened and just go in with your hands instead. That includes putting it back as well. I have never had it happen to me nor have I ever seen it happen but I know that warnings like that are important and I have picked one up that wasn’t currently being opened or closed so trust me when I say they are heavy.

Anyway, once you have it open, you’ll basically be looking at a hole in the ground. I’m so so sad I can’t find any photos of an open fire hydrant the closest I can get is this

Which has a stand pipe in it so you can’t see it properly but maybe I’ll take a pic next time we’re using stand pipes. Basically they connect to water pipes and have a ball valve at the bottom as well as fuck I can’t remember the word those fucking notches for the stand pipe to lock into. Anyway here’s a picture of a stand pipe on its own

You put this into the big hole and you twist it till it locks in and please do not stand with your head right above it because if your not careful the valve in the stand pipe could accidentally release and shoot the turny thing (fucking WORDS) up into your face with all the force of high water pressure and it’ll really fucking hurt from what I’ve heard. Anyway when you get it in you can actually turn the end of the pipe around in any direction (though it can be a bit stiff) and you want to face it to the road or away from your crew before you even worry about connecting a hose.

When using water from a hole in the ground, you’ve got to worry about things like dirt, especially if the hydrant hasn’t been used in a while. Your stand pipe can handle this, your hose not so much, so when setting up your stand pipe you want to open the valve to let the water out and get all the gunk out with it. The water pressure is very high so you aim it away from people unless they didn’t listen when you said ti get out of the way, in which case it’s pretty funny and kind of on them. The water will be brown for a couple seconds before it turns clear, at which point you turn the water off and link up your hose or breach or whatever you’re using it for.

Here’s a photo of some firies setting up a stand pipe (ew fire+rescue /lh /j)

So hydrants are usually used for a constant supply of water that the tank of a truck couldn’t supply forever (as the tank on a dual cab cat 1 only holds 4500L and the tank on a pumper is only 2000 L -those are the ones I’m used to and the most common from what I can tell) or to fill up the tank of a truck.

When using a hydrant for a fire you can put something called a Y breach on it (which is actually in the above image). A Y breach is a tool used to turn one hose line into two by splitting it (hence the ‘Y’ shape that gives it its name). There are two types of Y breaches, controlled breaches and uncontrolled breaches. Controlled breaches are much more common, and technically there shouldn’t be uncontrolled breaches on any trucks anymore but of course the brigade that runs my cadets still does lol. The difference is that controlled breaches have separate valves on each side of the split, which is useful if you have to turn one lines water off for any reason, such as a damaged hose or if they’re just finished with their water, while still leaving the other side to run as the need. With an uncontrolled breach, if something were to happen, both lines would need to be turned off, which can be hassling and time consuming. Here’s some pictures of breaches

You can tell this is a controlled breach by its valve levers to control the water flow on each side.

You can tell this is an uncontrolled breach by the lack of valve levers.

I just realised I haven’t explained hose sizes yet those are so important

So there’s three standard hose sizes used in fire fighting- 25mm, 38mm, and 65mm. I have also heard of the mythical 75mm (I think? Could be 78mm) which I have never seen a hose of by we do have a reducer for in the pumper at cadets station (ig that’s what I’m calling it now).

God can I not just find a side by side of hose sizes PLEASE

So all stand pipes are automatically 65mm which means you either need a 65mm hose/ breach, or you need a reducer. So what a reducer is kind of in the name. It’s to connect couplings of different sizes together, so there’s a couple different sizes, 38 to 25, 65 to 38, 75 to 65, you get the point. You always go from the bigger to the smaller size with reducers.

This reducers fucking massive apparently?? The page I ripped it from says it’s 150mm to 125mm holy shit anyway you get the point

Fuck I just realised it’s past one in the morning I’ll let you digest this and make questions before I come back with more I haven’t even mentioned hydrant markers yet SHIT I FORGOT

Anyway :333 yay

Hello I am here for the infodumping

Give 🫴

HOLY SHIT

Ok hang on I’ve got to think of a topic

Ummmmmmm ok so you get to choose between the cod modern warfare series (both og and reboot), metal gear solid, or fire hydrants (and probably also other fire fighting related stuff too if you get me on about it)

Let me know holy shit

[carrie-kelley-deserved-better]

The scene in gonacharov that gets me the most is when *spoiler* is dying outside of the city and just, laying there looking at the lights in the buildings.

Everyone alsways talks about how when they die all the lights in the buildings go out which is obviously really impactful but i think yall missed the most important part of the scene! As they're dying their head tilts up- towards the sky- they're looking at the invisable stars!

Before the lights go out none of the stars are visable because of the light pollution but once the buildings are dark suddenly the stars are there! Its such an important scene to communicate the sub theme of being blinded by what youre looking at and missing whats there but not visable to you and its So underated.

Its kinda difficult to see if you don't have your brightness set really high so i can't blame people for missing it but i just love the symbolism So Much and wanted to make sure it was talked about!

[ashasmonsters]

The Thru-Hiker

Female reader x Male mothperson (Desmond)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Full-on smut, references to unhappy breakups

Words: 5.1k

Note: Here's the story that earns me the "18+" in my description. This is my first time making anything this smutty public, so any feedback or criticism would be appreciated. Enjoy!

You raised the viewfinder to your eye. The rolling hills fit within the frame-lines neatly, the trail before you leading straight down the middle and towards the horizon. With a satisfying click the shutter fired. You lowered the camera and cranked the film advance lever, confident that shot would turn out well. You let the camera dangle from your shoulder once again as you looked around: this spot was close enough to the main trail that you wouldn't need any "breadcrumbs" to lead you back to it in the morning. The sun would finish setting in an hour or so, and bird chirps had given way to trilling crickets and cicadas. It was warm enough that you didn't need to build a fire. Your stove would do just fine.

"That's a nice camera."

You turned towards the voice. Standing behind you, closer to the main trail and obscured slightly by foliage, loomed a lanky mothman. He wore clothes appropriate for hiking the Appalachian trail, though you hadn't seen him around. This meant he was quick or hiking the opposite direction as you.

"Thanks." You answered. He pushed a few low-hanging twigs out of the way and took a step towards you.

"Is that a..." he paused, his brow furrowing above his red compound eyes as he searched for a word, "Yashica, right?"

"Mamiya, actually." You answered, hefting the brick-shaped camera from your hip where it dangled. "It's been a pain to hike with, but I love it all the same."

"I'm sure you've got some excellent shots in that thing. I'm Desmond." He closed the remaining distance and tenderly extended a chitinous claw. You shook it in turn and returned his greeting.

"I don't believe I've seen you on the trail, Desmond," you said, "are you using those wings or hiking southbound?"

"Oh, I'm hiking southbound. Flying would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

"I guess that is a silly question." You lowered your eyes and made eye contact with his hiking boots. "I'm heading northbound."

"Hm. You must have started the trail pretty recently."

"That's right. I started maybe three weeks ago. You must be pretty close to finishing if you're going southbound."

"Been on the trail for five months." He answered.

"Wow." You breathed. Maybe mothmen wore it better, but he certainly looked neat for having lived in the wilderness for almost half a year. You caught yourself staring. "Um, got any tips for a relatively fresh hiker like me?"

"Take your time and enjoy yourself." He said, looking down at you. "The trail is going to take the better part of a year from you no matter what, so there's no point in rushing it."

"Thanks for the advice." A pause. You saw your reflection in his ruby eyes. "Anyway... I don't want to keep you from the trail, being nocturnal and all." You failed to suppress a tinge of longing in your voice. The sun started to kiss the horizon, making the canopy above you look like it was on fire.

"Well, actually..." Desmond rested a claw on the back of his neck fluff, "I was going to ask if you would share this spot with me. It's going to be a full moon and I planned to take a rest to enjoy it."

"Oh," you said, glad the sunset was masking your blush, "that should be fine, then."

"I don't want to impose, I could always find my own—"

"No, really, it's fine." You said, gesturing around the sizeable clearing. "We're sharing a view, not a cot. I don't mind."

"Ah, right." He played with his neck fluff again. "Well then, let's not waste the daylight." You nodded and slid your pack off.

Your sleeping arrangements for the trail had been spartan, but still comfortable. You carried a thin foam pad which rolled up nicely and fit under your sleeping bag, a tarp with hooks for hanging from above, a camp stove, and a sack to keep your food strung up a branch and away from animals.

All of this was set up fairly quickly since Desmond was helping you. He was quite tall, which made stringing up the extra food much easier than when you had done it alone. In no time, your foam pad was safely encircled by your hanging tarp and your stove was boiling a pot of water. Tonight's dinner was an Appalachian Trail classic: dehydrated cheesy rice. You took the initiative to invoke full-on luxury by adding a handful of equally dehydrated broccoli florets. You had a guest to entertain, after all.

"Thanks for making me breakfast. Dinner, in your case." Desmond said. The dim blue light from the camp stove caught only the very edges of his chitinous frame. His red eyes shone bright like a cat's through the steam from the culinary masterpiece cooking between you two.

"Consider it my treat." You smiled back. There was a pause, so you pulled a topic from the air. "Are you a photographer too? Not many people can tell apart the brands of these old things." You patted your Mamiya camera as if it were a tiny metal lapdog.

"Ah, no," He said, almost defensively, "if you have compound eyes like me, you can't really look through viewfinders. It just doesn't work."

"Right, sorry." You rubbed the back of your neck. "Where does your camera knowledge come from, then?"

"Well... you know the old mothpeople stereotype about how we like light?"

"Um." You spoke carefully. "I have heard of it."

"I kinda live up to that stereotype. Like, very much. It's why I wanted to stop here to watch the full moon."

"Okay, but how does that tie into cameras?"

"It's kind of embarrassing." He fidgeted with his long white neck fuzz. "It's the flash. When it goes off, it's like... like..."

"Like a drug?" You finished for him.

"No! Not like that. It's not addictive... I don't think. It's more like... what's that thing humans do with their nails and their skin?"

"Like scratching an itch?"

"Yes! Exactly." He said excitedly. "I don't itch, but if I did, I imagined it would feel like when a camera flash goes off."

You chuckled even though you knew he was a little embarrassed. This whole situation was just too absurd, too odd.

"So you're like a connoisseur of camera flashes." A pause. He lowered his gaze.

"Mamiyas have the best one." You chuckled again.

"Well, then." You pulled your camera from your bag and held it before you. "May I take your portrait?"

"If it's no trouble," his antennae perked up, "yes please."

Wrestling the camera into shooting position, you flipped the viewfinder open and aimed it squarely at him. The scene fit perfectly within the frame-lines; the glowing blue stove flames in the foreground and Desmond's red eyes neatly in the middle.

"Looks good to me." You said, pressing the flash release. The flash, a piece of metal the size of your thumb, sprung out of the camera and whined as the battery charged it.

"Oh, wow." He noted. You pressed the shutter—

"Goddamn!" Desmond cried, shuddering. Briefly, a low chirr seemed to emanate from him. "Pardon my French. That was good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Most people hate when I ask to take their portrait." You cranked the film advance lever and smiled. You returned your camera to its place in your bag, then... remembered there was a meal on the stove. "Crap, I hope the bottom isn't burning." You said, quickly grabbing the stirring spoon and scraping the bottom of the pot. You continued until you were sure the food was in good shape.

"You know, when I thought about making this trek, I was worried about getting lonely. Like I wouldn't be able to put up with just myself for so long... but I've already met so many people and they've all been kind." You continued stirring the meal.

"Then what made you consider it in the first place?" Desmond asked, cocking an antenna.

"Oh... you know... adventure." You lied. The resulting pause made you painfully aware of how bad of a liar you are. The cheesy rice bubbled and spat steam at you as if heckling your poor performance.

"I'd believe that if you had a fedora and a whip. And knew where the holy grail was." He chuckled, his mandibles clicking.

"What?"

"Ah, just a stupid joke. There's these old movies..." He cut himself off and extended an empty claw, taking the spoon from you and making it his turn to stir. "I don't want to tell you your business, but everybody I've met in the past five months comes to the trail to run from something."

"Well... you're right that it's definitely my business." You tried not to scowl. The turn in conversation had resurrected an unpleasant feeling in your heart; something in the same neighborhood as shame or sadness.

"Not if what you're running from is the law and you're a serial killer or something. Then that's definitely my business." He clicked once more. His attempt to lighten the conversation didn't help that feeling much. The cheesy rice heckled him this time.

"I'm not a serial killer, I promise." You started, drawing in a sharp breath. Perhaps you just needed to vent. Maybe that would ease this malaise. "Why don't you start? Tell me what you're running from first, then I'll tell you about me." You took the stirring spoon back from him. He ran a claw down his face.

"I'm running from a breakup. We dated for three years." He sighed.

"I'm... sorry." You said, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't apologize; not unless you're the girl she ran off with." His mandibles clicked weakly. "I'm kidding. She didn't run off or anything. She didn't even cheat. She just realized that men weren't for her."

You raised an eyebrow. "Three whole years?"

"It didn't take her that long to realize it, just that long to work up the courage to tell me. Maybe I wasn't her true love, but she cared about me a lot. She was so scared of hurting me that she bottled it up for most of that time."

"You didn't want to remain friends?"

"I did— and I still do. I... I just said three things: 'I need some time to process this,' 'I'm in a lot of pain but it's not your fault,' and 'I'm going hiking for six months, call me back when I'm done.' That's all I could think of in the moment, and now I'm here."

"That's rough."

"You're telling me." His shoulders dropped. "I'm used to breakups with jerks. That I can make peace with, because then it's like a problem that solves itself. Jerk breaks up with you, therefore no more jerk to deal with. But... when it's someone that you love, that you want the best for, and that means they have to move on... that's something I'm still trying to work out." He sighed hard and lowered his crimson eyes. "I think the rice is done."

You were so caught up in his pained explanation that you lost track of time. You quickly turned off the camp stove and set the pot on the ground.

"Thanks for reminding me." You grabbed your enamel bowl as he readied his and started dishing out the rice and broccoli. You both sat there in silence, enjoying the feeling of hot food in hand. "Anyway, I guess it's my turn to share."

"Please. I wouldn't want to dump my problems on you without hearing out yours."

"I had a breakup too, though honestly I think mine wasn't as rough as yours." You said.

"We all go through different things. It's not a contest." Desmond said, idly poking his steaming meal. "Tell me about it, if you want."

So you did. Over the course of the meal, you told Desmond all about your past relationship: the fights you had with your ex, the nights spent in separate sleeping arrangements, the endless worry over how much of it was your fault. He nodded sympathetically with each painful memory you unraveled to him. Remembering it all made you feel worse, but having him listen made it feel much better. When you had no more to say, he stared at you. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Your spoon was trembling.

"It's okay to cry. I won't mind." Was all Desmond said before you had to set down your food and hold your face in your hands. It's like you had been saving up a surplus of tears throughout all these events and just barely they were escaping you. You could hear Desmond awkwardly scoot over in the dirt to your side before he offered a rigid shoulder to you.

"Chitin isn't exactly memory foam, but..." You rested your head on him without a second thought. One of his claws found its way to your shoulder and you felt better for it. This was the first time you had mentioned your breakup out loud and unquestionably the first time anyone had offered you a shoulder to cry on, literally or figuratively.  You quickly came to find even Desmond's exoskeleton quite comfortable.

"Thanks for listening." You said as your sobs started to slow. He plainly chirred in response, making his grip on your shoulder a little tighter. His embrace was the first one you had felt since the breakup. You felt warm and safe in a way you had previously only had with your ex long ago. His neck fluff tickled you as he leaned his head onto yours.

"It's okay." You could feel his mandibles nudge your cheek as he spoke. "I know how hard it is." Your composure returned, and you stilled yourself against him. You finally removed your hands from your face, your eyes bloodshot.

"I'm glad I'm not wearing makeup." You chuckled weakly. "Otherwise my cheeks would look like a barcode right now."

"That's the spirit. Enjoy the little things." He rubbed your shoulder. "That's what the trail is all about."

You found yourself naturally holding Desmond closer, burying yourself in his neck fluff and wrapping an arm around his side as he held you. He smelled like pine and smoke. You grabbed your bowl of food once more and resumed eating, not leaving Desmond's side.

"I'm sorry for smearing my tears all over you." You said, coming back to reality. The taste of rehydrated cheesy rice wasn't great, but it was warm and familiar. Combined with Desmond's arm wrapped around you, the pain and baggage from the breakup left you like grime after a shower.

"It's alright." He said. "If moths could cry, I'd be crying all over you too. We're in the same shitty breakup boat."

He and you sat there together, finishing the meal. The camp stove had been turned off for a while now, and the only warmth you felt was your own, reflected off his chitin. The pause was permeated by lesser insects chirping and wind gently rustling the branches above. As you finished your food, you became painfully aware that Desmond couldn't hold you forever. He'd have to get in his sleeping bag eventually, and in the morning, continue his hike to nowhere other than your distant memories. Or, maybe...

"Want to share my sleeping bag with me?" The words left your mouth before you could even react. A second later, you realized what you had said and your heart raced. Your face found itself hidden in your hands again.

Why the fuck would you say that? Are you crazy? How would you feel if he randomly propositioned you for sex, huh? To which your responded to yourself with, Screw it, I'd be down for that.

Oh well. The fact he'd leave forever in the morning was both a blessing and a curse... but for now, mostly a blessing. It didn't matter if you were "rebounding" or doing something impulsive. Whatever happened tonight would stay in tonight. You and him would go your separate ways and there wouldn't be any regrets to be had. You practically held your breath as he processed what you said; the pause felt infinitely long.

"I'd love to." He broke the silence, his mandibles clicking more than usual. "Unless you're having second thoughts."

You looked up at him and shook your head. Wordlessly, he took your hand stood up with you. You led him to your dangling tarp wherein your sleeping bag and foam pad rested. Luxurious it was not, but as you slapped aside the flap and pulled Desmond in behind you, little else other than him was on your mind. You sat down on your "bed" and turned round, looking at him. His saucer-sized red eyes glowed as they met your gaze. He stepped closer.

"You're sure?" He said, kneeling before you. "I don't want to—"

You leaned forward and grabbed his head, clumsily planting a kiss where his mouth would be if he was human. It seemed to do the trick; he gasped and relaxed, his mandibles caressing your cheeks. You pulled back to breathe.

"I'm not asking you to marry me." You planted another kiss on him, tugging on his neck fluff. "I'm asking you to keep me company tonight."

"If you insist." He clicked. Something in his tone changed. For the first time his voice had timbre and need. He had left his tone suited for polite conversation and jokes outside your tarp. Here on your twin-sized foam pad, all pretenses were gone. You both knew you were going to give yourselves to each other; yet he surprised you by tugging the neck of your shirt down and scattering little kisses from your chin to your collarbone with his proboscis. It was rough and leathery and frankly didn't feel like anything you had touched before. You shuddered when he took it with him, descending past your breasts and peeling your shirt off your belly.

"Desmond..." You sighed, the only thing keeping this encounter casual being the button on your jeans.

"Everything alright so far?" He looked up at you with his large eyes, his mandibles brushing against your thigh as he spoke.

"Excellent." You breathed, resting a hand on the back of his neck fluff. "Please..." You used the same hand to ever-so-gently nudge him closer to your midst, which was already roiling with burning need. With a single claw, he carefully undid the button and zipper. You shimmied out of your jeans until his neck fluff  tickled the inside of your exposed thighs; your underwear soon followed. He clicked some more as you fully exposed your entrance to him, his eyes studying you and his claws gently finding their way to each of your legs.

"Forgive me, it's been a while." He said as he lowered his face into you. You reclined further, only gazing upwards to the tarp and a tiny patch of starry sky.

"Don't talk, just— Ah!" He pulled a gasp from you as he began his ministrations. With your head resting on the foam pad, you just closed your eyes and let the sensations fill you. Something of his, you weren't quite sure what, playfully danced around the edges of your entrance until it found its mark. It gently flicked across that tender nub and your hips bucked in response. You held his neck plumage tighter, desperately tugging him closer to you.

"Keep going, that's— oh, that's perfect..." He didn't resist your pull. If anything, as his fuzz tickled you and his mandibles started to prod at your folds he increased his fervor. Relentlessly he played across all parts of you at once. Hard chitinous mandibles spread you open while his proboscis felt like it was everywhere. It rubbed your bead with every advance it made into you, filling you with a tingling warmth that spread throughout your whole body. He didn't let up at all, your breath hitching and leaving you as moans. You rocked your hips and whined. Harder and harder, rhythmically to a rapidly increasing tempo. You gripped him tighter, burying his face into you. Ecstasy built within your core with each surge of his "tongue" until you could hold on no longer.

"Oh, oh!" You cried, your body seizing and legs locking around his shoulders. Pleasure crackled around your whole body and there, in the dark with Desmond wordlessly working you, you weren't sure how much time you spent at the peak. Slowly, the sparks behind your eyes stopped flying. Your breath resumed its normal rhythm. Lifting your head off your sleeping bag, you made eye contact with his glowing red orbs, the only source of light under your tarp.

"How did I do?" He chittered, his grin smug enough for you to sense even in the darkness.

"You were fantastic." You indulged him, running your hand through his fuzz as he crawled over top of you. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"I didn't tire you out, did I?" He asked before descending upon you and kissing you lightly. With the gap between you two closed, you felt something tumescent and twitching under his shorts brush against you.

"I suppose I can stay up some more." You giggled as his fuzz tickled your collarbone. "I'll just sleep in."

"Glad to hear it." Desmond rasped. His voice grew ragged as he nipped at your neck, cradling your chin in one claw and using the other to undo his shorts. In the darkness, you could only feel something slick, smooth, and long come to rest on your belly. You squeezed your thighs around it. Desmond immediately chirred louder than before, sounding like a baritone version of the insects outside. His deep timbre resonated inside you.

"Excited?" You teased, his length completely at your mercy as you held it between your legs.

"I've forgotten how warm humans feel." He rumbled.

"Can I jog your memory?"

"Please."

You released him from your thighs and reached down with a hand. You felt the entirety of his length in your grasp; it was delightfully slick and uniform with pleasant little ridges to encounter as your hand traveled towards his base. You grasped it gently, eliciting more bassy chitters from him as you angled it towards your entrance. You fumbled a bit in the darkness, but after a few tries his tip rested at your threshold. His eyes met yours.

"Ready?" He clicked.

"Go ahead." You gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, nestling your face in his fluff as he started entering you. His hips slowly began to close the distance, each ridge on his length pushing a squeak out of you. His pace was deliciously slow. You had just enough time to adjust but not to catch your breath. All you could do was hold him tight in the darkness, nothing but the sensation and his chirring to occupy your mind. It felt like an eternity of slowly being filled by him. Eventually, cool chitin met your wet bundle of nerves, sending electric pleasure up your spine and forcing a gasp out of you.

"That's all of it." He grunted, his body completely flush with yours. "Do you feel alright?"

"Give me a moment." you said, exhaling sharply. The sensation of fullness with him hilted completely within you took your breath away. Little moans escaped you as his shaft quivered inside your depths. Embracing him, you found a steady breathing rhythm once more. "Okay, you can move."

With only chitters in response, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, his mandibles poking and prodding as he peppered you with kisses. His hardness withdrew just as slowly as when he entered you, then returned with a steady tempo. Each time his hips rocked you moaned into his fuzz. You imagined if you and Desmond had met at a different time or a different place, you'd be voicing your pleasures into a pillow. Since he had started his rhythmic thrusts, Desmond held a low, purring chirr that surged each time his pelvis met yours.

He chittered something specific, completely forgoing English as he picked up speed. He released your shoulders from his grasp. Changing position, he now kneeled upright with his knees on either side of your rear and his claws firmly gripping your thighs. The new leverage and angle made you squeal. He pumped in earnest now, both the speed and impact making you moan with nothing to stifle your voice.

"Desmond!" You cried, one hand splayed above your head and the other reaching down to hold your sensitive bead, "Keep going!" His pace remained constant. The low chirr grew into a growl. He pounded over and over, his hips slamming into your ass. As if it took considerable effort, he wrestled his chitters back into grunting speech you could understand.

"Close," he said sharply, "getting close!" You decided against speaking, instead locking your ankles behind him and rubbing your nub feverishly to meet him at the brink. His pace quickened even more. His claws squeezed your thighs as he desperately held onto you— into you, his thrusts remaining deeper inside you as they mounted in strength. His chirring returned, ascending in volume and pitch into a strangled, desperate call. His gaze snapped skyward and his back arched and he desperately pulled at your entire body in an effort to seat himself as deep within you as he could. You cried out in time with him. Your voice reached its limits. You rubbed yourself with abandon as you felt his cock fire within you with great trembling pulses. The pleasure within you mounted, growing until it erupted with a crackling warmth that left you quivering and crying out. He held himself as deep as he could go, grinding his hips into yours. Hissing, he lowered himself upon you once more and kissed you hard. You wailed into his mandibles as you rode out your peak. His hard chitin ground into your nub and held you at your limit before his rolling hips finally relented. Still, but remaining deep within you, he broke away from the kiss. You caught your breath as your eyes locked.

"Goodness..." You panted. Your face burned. Streaks of cool wetness rolled from your eyes down your cheeks. Desmond's chirring slowed into nothingness. The only sounds left were your breathing and nature outside.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his usual tone returning slowly.

"I'm great, Desmond," You smiled, "but you managed to tire me out this time." He clicked, then slowly withdrew his softening length from your sensitive core. You felt something ooze out of you, but were too exhausted to do anything about it.

"Sleep, please." He said, stroking your hair with a claw. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about anything else."

When morning arrived, the hole in the roof of your tarp acted as a skylight. You had awoken fortuitously just before the golden beam would have shone burning rays straight into your eyes. You definitely slept in, but found yourself fully clothed. You expected to feel something regretfully sticky and wet in your underwear, but you were completely clean. For a moment, you considered that last night might have been a dream. That line of thought was cut short by the sound of boiling water and the smell of coffee creeping into your tarp.

You emerged to find Desmond sitting in front of a small fire, emptying granules of instant coffee into a pot.

"Coffee?" He offered. "It'll be done in a bit."

"Thank you, Desmond." You sat in the same spot as you did last night over dinner. The silence that followed was comfortable and warm, unlike last night's awkward pauses. You watched him shake the pot with a claw as the sun warmed you. "I guess I should also thank you for, um, cleaning me up. I kinda passed out on you there. Sorry."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm nocturnal, remember?" He looked up at you and grinned. "It felt good to take care of a sleeping human again. It reminded me of old times." His grin softened into a gentle smile. The instant coffee had fully dissolved and he pulled the pot from the fire. He filled, then offered you an enamel mug which you accepted. The aroma was cheap and comforting.

"I'm going to miss you." You held the mug tightly. You didn't meet his eyes as you spoke, instead staring into the coffee as if it would tell you what to do.

"Me too." Desmond responded.

"Could we... could you..." You searched for the best way to ask. "Would you want to be with me?" Desmond released a slow chitter. He shook his head, and his soft smile shifted further into a shallow frown.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I wouldn't feel comfortable whisking you away three weeks after your breakup. Hell, I'm five months out from my own and I'm still not sure about where I am emotionally." You nodded in response. The coffee in your hands cooled in the resulting silence.

"I guess this is where we part ways, then." You sighed.

"Maybe..." He finally met your gaze. "You're hiking northbound. That means you'll finish in what, five more months?"

"Four if I hurry."

"The trail ends in Maine. There's this tiny, tiny town up there." He mused. "When you finish the trail, look for me around town. I'll be there. If you still want to be with me... then we could pursue a relationship like normal people. Coffee dates and stuff. If not... well, I'll buy you lunch."

"Is that another one of your movie references?" You chuckled. His plan sounded like something straight out of a cheesy rom-com.

"I'm serious." He explained. "My mom lives up there, and I've got nowhere else to be in four to five months."

"How am I supposed to find you?"

"I'm pretty sure the town population is in the double digits, and I'm definitely sure that me and my mom are the only mothpeople there." You considered his offer. It was all you had to look forward to, really.

"Let's shake on it." You extended a hand to him over the dying embers. He reached out to meet you, but then suddenly paused. "What's wrong?" You asked, a pang of fear striking you.

"I have one condition: when you inevitably run into my mom, our story has to be something other than, 'we met up on the trail and had sex after an embarrassingly short conversation and a camera flash,' okay?" You burst into laughter, as did he. He took your hand in his claw and shook enthusiastically.

"We have a deal." You answered. "Don't worry, I'll come up with something good."

"You better. You've got four-to-five months to craft it." He clicked. You smiled.

When you both finished your coffee, you gave him a hug and enjoyed the feeling of his neck fuzz on your cheek one last time. The fire had gone out, you packed up your tarp and sleeping bag, and you took a few steps north on the trail. You stopped soon after and turned, watching him go. He disappeared into the foliage. Sighing, you resumed your hike. To pass the time you talked to yourself.

"Ah, so nice to meet you, Mrs. Moth-mom. Yes, of course, we met at a pottery class."

No! Stupid.

"We were flying kites in the park, and ours got tangled up together—"

Now you sound like you're referencing sappy rom-coms.

You sighed. At least you'd have a while to come up with something convincing.

[perfectarmony]

So I saw an ask earlier about asking whether or not they're purposefully leaving out more meaningful conversations between Thony and Arman, to which the answer referred to the Daily Beast article with MK from earlier in the week, saying that they were trying to keep armony apart while still giving viewers what they want. I was like, whaaat? I went to the article, and I kid you not, that's what it said. That is NOT something you should just admit. That will not win viewers' hearts. There are two main reasons people stick around: one is a good plot, two is romance. If you build it they will come. One of the shows I'm watching right now is a good example of this. after starting out strong in s3-4, the favorite couple's development was stunted for the rest of those seasons, and ratings suffered. Now in its 5th season, there is some actual progression.

I'm surprised more attention hasn't been brought to this article. Maybe because we're still small. Well, at least there's a consolation prize with MK saying Arman loves Thony. But for the love...it's aggravating.

Ah anon...where do I start? 👀

I saw that interview but honestly, that part didn't really trigger me - I personally interpreted it more like ''just give it time, we'll get there'' 🤷🏻‍♀️

It's not the first time they brought that up, here is an excerpt from an interview with Miranda and Melissa/released after the season finale aired (x)

But if you put it in that context with the apparent lack of communication between them, it does hit a bit differently. And I can definitely see where you're coming from with, I think The Rookie? 👀

Maybe they shouldn't be as straightforward, but, (it's just my opinion coming from a fandom I've been a part of for 8 years that had showrunners constantly making big empty promises off screen 🙄) it's best for them to be honest in interviews instead of giving us big hopes that'll build up frustration.

And yes, it felt a bit off in the first 3 eps but IMO, they're now working on building their relationship on even stronger foundations - that bond Miranda mentions here ⬆️

We did see that in 2x04 with Arman making it crystal clear he'll always be there for her and now 2x05 when Thony gave Arman a reason to keep fighting, letting him know that she'll be by his side too and that she won't let him slip into darkness.

By working with Garrett, they now have their own little bubble with a secret to keep - and that will surely bring out something good for Armony. I wouldn't worry too much about all of that, we may not get kiss/sex scenes, but the emotional connection is still being focused on - let's just see what we'll get on screen in the second half of the season 😉

Edited to add @kindredhearts13 's better analysis of the subject 🙃