#pov someone asks who farted

[1004tyun-archive]

he’s pointing at you :(

m-me?!? 😳

[marionthegeek]

Stede is in the Gravy Basket, Izzy is Alive

The season 2 finale of Our Flag Means Death is odd.  It hits weird. I think I know why. And this is going to sound bananas, but give me a chance to explain.  Maybe you’ll agree.

It has a huge tonal shift. It seems to speedrun Stede and Ed’s romance. It feels like we’ve missed out on something from the end of episode 7.  The fight scenes and pirate plans are nonsensical, even for OFMD. And most egregiously, a prominent character is killed off in a way that feels disingenuous to his story arc, just for starters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  We need to go back to the beginning of season 2.  The season opens with Stede looking more piratey than ever. Beard, sash, earring… oh he’s his own fantasy of a real proper pirate.  He’s clashing swords with Izzy Hands and demanding to know where Ed is. He’s dreaming. In the dream he kills Izzy. He and Ed run into each other’s arms while screaming each other’s names. They crash into the surf. Ed says “I knew you’d find me, Babe.  I knew you’d find me, Love.” Stede keeps asking if they’re good. Ed dodges the question. Then Ed asked about the smell. Stede wakes up in a crowded room with farting and shushing roommates.

At first I thought the finale was supposed to be just a “satisfying” mirror to Stede’s dream. Stede and Ed call each other’s names and run into each other’s arms in a display that resembles a more grown up version of Stede’s dream fantasy. There’s some wild sword fighting not unlike Stede’s dream duel with Izzy. And Izzy dies.

It does mirror, but I didn’t find it satisfying. All of the characters except Stede feel flattened. Stede gets to make the heroic plan (that we never even hear) while there’s at least five pirates with better skill sets for it in the room. Ed, as Blackbeard, was described last season as “History’s greatest tactician”; Zheng Yi Sao conquered China; Jackie just took out a room full of British soldiers. Izzy and Auntie are right there. You could make arguments that Jim or Frenchie, or pretty much anyone could make a better plan. Then Stede says “It’s only suicide if we die,” which is horrible considering the plan gets Izzy killed.

Stede’s really the only person in that room who thinks Stede should be making the plans.  So I got to thinking, what if it's not just mirroring the dream? What if it is a dream? Last shot of episode 7 is an incoming cannonball. Maybe he’s unconscious.

Huge shout out to @Arty_Sunflowers on twitter (I’m not calling it X, fuck Musk) for pointing out that that isn’t the only episode that ends with a cannonball. Episode 2 ends with Jim swinging a cannonball down at Ed’s head.  Stede’s not just dreaming, he’s in the Gravy Basket!!!! (Stede even screams “Oh my God!” at the end of episode 7 in the same tone he screams “Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” in s1e9.

Stede’s hopes, dreams, and insecurities shape everything in the finale. And it helps explain the absurdities in the episode when you remember that Stede is living out pulp adventure and romance novels in his head. (He even looks like someone on the cover of one in his episode 1 dream.) But Stede can’t be dead, you say. He’s literally the main character. Well, Ed was dead for a whole episode. Let’s take a closer look.

I could and probably will do another essay on Lucius as a POV character and Ed’s mental health and how the threads they seemed to have dropped aren’t as dropped as they appear. But all of that hinges on me proving the Stede is in the Gravy Basket theory. So for this essay I’m focusing on that.

So for starters we’ve got the cannonball scenes. They’re eerily similar even if the method of cannonball propulsion is different. We don’t know Ed is dead and in the Gravy Basket for about half of episode 3. Neither does he. It makes logical sense you can be there without realizing it for a while. Buttons even said Ed didn’t know whether he was in the Gravy Basket or not in episode 4. It definitely messes with your reality.

One of Ed’s issues is self hate. He manifests Hornigold as his companion. Stede is desperate to be a good pirate and have people be proud of him. And he lives in his fantasies a lot.  So his dream shapes his experience. There’s a whole bit about Zheng needing “soft” and Auntie saying she’s proud of her. That isn’t their issue. It’s discordant with the show previously. But it is Stede’s issue. He’s manifesting.

When we first see Stede and Zheng in episode 8, they’re in a familiar spot for Stede, the bridge from episode 1. But why are they alone? When we last see Stede and Zheng in episode 7, several characters are within 5 to 10 feet of them. Did none of them decide to escape with Stede? Izzy, Lucius,  and Jim are closest. But we know Pete was there begging Stede to stay down during his fight with Zheng. Archie was definitely in the bar. That's why Jim entered the fight. So why is it only Stede and Zheng at the bridge? Because, going back to rescue others fits into Stede's hero fantasies. 

Zheng and Stede also argue about who pulled who to safety and how they got there. Stede waxes poetic about being a failure his whole life, but things always seem to work out for him. He’s such a main character mediocre white guy in this scene. He saves Zheng from two random soldiers, then she has to save him from them. Then they fight a bunch more soldiers on the beach until Blackbeard manifests in full leather from the ocean.  It looks cool. But it's absurd, even for OFMD.

Speaking of Ed, he begins the episode waxing poetic about nature and calling fishermen simple.  Those things are more Stede than Ed. Pop pop tells Ed, “You have no skills” which is something Izzy said to Stede in episode 5.  He also tells Ed, “If you were ever good at something, go do that, you bum.” If Stede’s insecurities could be distilled into one sentence, it would probably be that. (He also talks about being like a wave. I’m not 100% sure it's a The Good Place joke, but it would be thematically appropriate.)

Pop pop also tells Ed he “ruined dinner.”  Back in season 1, in Stede’s flashbacks to life with Mary and the kids, Stede thinks he’s ruined dinner. But remember, we also see another version of the scene where Stede is laughing with Mary and the kids.  Stede isn’t exactly a reliable narrator. Even in his own head.

Despite it being beyond unlikely, Ed finds soldiers reading one of Stede’s letters. I know physics in this show is sketchy, but this seems like a good time to point out no one found the red silk. Stede wants Ed to read a letter and for it to fix everything between them. The letter, plus Stede being in danger, make Ed swim out, find his leathers, and emerge from the sea with them on, while the music is the Swede’s solo from Stede’s fuckery in s1e6. Stede wants to be rescued by his handsome pirate in leather, again, just like a pulp adventure romance novel. Little chance of Ed swimming out and finding his kit.  Even less of him getting leather pants on under the water.

Back to the beach… for some reason two squads of soldiers are wandering around out on an empty beach. A visually incredible fight scene occurs. It honestly reminds me of Pete’s story in s1e2, including flips. Ed and Stede yell each other’s names exactly as in the dream. Like I’m pretty sure they used the same audio track. The same song (I Love My Baby, Nina Simone) starts playing. Ed says “I love you.” Stede says “I know.” (We’ll come back to the Han Solo joke in a minute.) They have a bit more absurd fighting then Ed, Stede, and Zheng sit on the beach complimenting each other. And Ed calls Stede “babe”.  He’s never done that outside of Stede’s dream and this moment. He’s called him mate a couple of times.  Babe is exclusively in Stede’s head.

Back in the Republic of Pirates, the crew are locked in a cell that is actually the “vista suite” at Spanish Jackie’s.  Izzy gets a heroic entrance. It’s as cool as Stede thinks Izzy is. And he gives a speech that sounds like what he probably told Stede to get him to relinquish the suit in episode 5. Piracy is about belonging to something. You can’t ignore the wishes of the crew.  Izzy also knows details about Captain Kidd and Pinocchio. Not impossible, but not exactly Izzy’s wheelhouse. It is Stede’s though. He’s obsessed with pirate tales and he read Pinocchio to the crew.

Stede, Ed, and Zheng show up just as Jackie has poisoned a bunch of soldiers. Stede makes a plan, despite everyone else being more qualified. Everyone disguises themselves as soldiers. Now we’ve seen the crew of the Revenge wear disguises. They never do the weird free styling they do here. Only Stede actually looks like a British officer. Zheng at least wears the disguise properly. Suddenly Ed has a multi gun bandolier like Blackbeard in the books. Pete ripped the arms off. Izzy is still wearing his vest. Doesn’t make sense if we’re going for stealth. Neither does not checking hostage Ricky for weapons or putting Izzy and his wooden leg at the front of the group.

If I'm right, Stede wouldn't know Ricky was behind the explosions. However,  Ricky is basically evil Stede. He's Stede's perfect foil. All of this is reflecting Stede's psyche. So, of course, it's Ricky.

Izzy gets shot and says quite a lot of nonsense in his death scene. “They love you, Ed.” Um, 3 of them were going to leave like five minutes ago. Ed has made some progress with the crew, but we’re not at “they love you Ed”.  The only person who thinks the crew loves Ed is Stede. Stede who weeps for Izzy while most of the crew aren’t showing much emotion. Stede can barely deal with his own big feelings. His fantasy doesn’t give the crew room to have them. Also, given the rest of the season, having Jim just let Ed be the person cradling Izzy doesn’t fit. The crew is also pretty stony at Izzy’s funeral.

I feel like it should be noted the last shot of Izzy in episode 7, he’s got one are around Jim and a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. He sat in Wee John’s lap in episode 6. Reactions to his death don’t make sense.

Also, Izzy’s terrible grave marker is very … Stede. He’d think it was a brilliant idea.

I didn't understand at first why Izzy had to die, even in Stede's dream world. Stede clearly likes him a lot better now. Why kill him? Well, it's because we're supposed to think Buttons is there to go to the Gravy Basket for Izzy. When actually he's already arrived in the Gravy Basket and he's there for Stede. Also, mentors die in pulp adventure novels. Stede sees Izzy as a mentor.

They go aboard the Revenge for Lucius and Pete’s wedding. It’s cute that the crew performs the ceremony, but I’d venture a guess that’s because Stede doesn’t know a captain should do it if it's legally binding. Stede does love the romance of it all.  The sudden uptick in monogamy is also very Stede. He barely understands monogamous relationships. Polyamory is beyond him.

Then Stede and Ed, who earlier told Zheng they’d help hunt Ricky, go back to the island where Izzy is buried to start an inn in a run down shack.  Stede knows Ed wants to do this because Ed told the (Taika’s) kids that they ran an inn.  We hear Ed ask “Jesus, what is that smell?” Now, at first, I thought Izzy, because Ed “knows the smell of my rotting first mate”. But what was the last thing to happen in Stede’s dream? A fart joke.

Last scene is Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave. To retrieve Izzy from the Gravy Basket? No, Izzy’s not dead. He’s with Jim and Lucius, probably watching over Stede’s corpse. Buttons is there to retrieve Stede.

This theory fixes the plot holes and dropped threads problem. We’re coming back to them next season. Ed's amends making should be far from over. And we see several moments during the season where he acknowledged that. And yet here on the island they've set up a horror movie and called it a happy ending.  Well, Stede is the type of boss who thinks things are fixed with a pizza (Calypso) party. In Stede's mind, this is a happy ending.  But really Ed is still off finding himself,  Stede is (temporarily) dead, and Izzy (who is not dead!) is probably guarding Stede's corpse.

They haven't resolved the domestic violence thread, but they haven't dropped it, either. Izzy is alive. Stede and Ed aren't together (yet). There's still time.

This also explains some of the freewheeling nonsense David Jenkins has been spouting in articles. Ed doesn’t see Izzy as a father figure and mentor, Stede does.  Stede almost turned to mush when Izzy approved of him. And David is writing a three volume adventure novel. Han Solo (Stede) is in carbonate (the Gravy Basket). The perfect end to the second act. See, I told you we’d get back to the Han Solo joke.

I still have problems with the season.  I really think they need a sensitivity reader. Even just implying a newly disabled character was fridged is certainly a choice. Especially given the amount of time devoted to how the character handled the disability. The DV scenes were brutal, as well as the suicide attempt, and the Human Puppet joke. I think they need someone trauma informed and disabled in the writer's room. (David Jenkins hit me up!)

Overall, I liked season 2. Especially once I realized Izzy wasn't dead. I'm looking forward to season 3, the conclusion of the Gentle Beard arc, and hopefully 6 seasons and a movie of Izzy (to be clear, he's not captain) and the kids sailing up and down the coast being gay and doing crimes, occasionally checking in with Stede and Ed.

Seriously, David, call me.

Historical Note: IRL Blackbeard died on November 22, 1718, killed in a naval battle off Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. IRL Stede Bonnet died December 10, 1718, hanged in Charles Town, South Carolina for piracy.  IRL Israel “Izzy” Hands survives piracy, death date unknown. I know this show doesn’t actually care about historical accuracy, but this lends a little support for my Ed died, then Stede died, and Izzy isn’t dead theory.

[toto-the-cactus]

A little brain fart that I got and needed to write down after a friend introduced me to Warhammer 40K.

This was heavily inspired in the short stories from @moodymisty with their Mortarion x Reader focus. I like the proposal of Mortarion's beloved being their complete opposite in appearance and personality but from the pov of Fulgrim of all people. My man not computing the mix.

Tw: none

The Flower

“Fulgrim… Fulgrim, you’ve been staring like that for half an hour. Stop it"

He knew, of course.

The Primarch was well aware that he was being less than dignified by the way he kept looking at Mortarion’s direction across the room, but the occasion warranted such a reaction and he was ready to call Ferrus out in his hypocrisy as he had been as curious as Fulgrim when the news reached them.

Mortarion, of all their brothers… somehow managed to find himself a sweet looking mortal that had accepted marriage by the simple excuse of ‘love’. Had it been an arranged marriage, the white-haired Primarch wouldn’t be this off put by the information as he was well acquaintanced with such political strategies, but since that wasn’t the case, Fulgrim had felt a bit too cynical about the matter.

He was ready to be faced by the haughty appearance of a tired baseline human, probably carrying herself more like a resigned corpse than someone worthy to be called ‘A Primarch’s wife’.

But lo and behold, The Phoenician felt like someone had dared to slap him in the face.

The little thing clung to Mortarion’s large frame by his hand and the contrast between them was both hilarious and confusing. Where the Primarch of the Death Guard Legion carried himself with a dark and haunting presence that tainted the pristine walls of the imperial palace, his partner looked cheery and amicable while engaged in a joint conversation with Sanguinius, who hadn’t been blind to the light nervousness you showed by the way you kept playing with the fine fabric of your dress.

That action, while of kind intentions, seemed to put the Pale King on edge as he stayed even closer to his dearest like some terrible shadow putting his possessive mark on her.

‘Figures’, the violet-eyed demigod thought unamusedly at the clear display of jealousy from their outcast sibling, as he never hid his bitterness towards some of their brothers that he felt life had favored.

It was when she glanced at Mortarion that Fulgrim almost choked with his wine because Emperor almighty, that was a look that the white-haired man had seen on very few occasions.

Your eyes shone with warm and overwhelming love, adoration even, that caught both Primarchs close to you a bit off guard. Of course, Mortarion quickly recovered by it and with a flustered look (flustered!), got the little mortal closer to him with his huge hand by her waist.

That was all the sign that Sanguinius needed to excuse himself away to leave the merry couple in their little bubble.

“I can’t understand… the guy has a presence of looming death and the smell to back it up and she seems the complete opposite” muttered Fulgrim to Ferrus in complete confusion. The little thing looked like she easily could find any male to be her companion, as the mortal was quite the sight and yet her eyes rarely left their brother’s form.

Fulgrim could easily imagine Mortarion’s fingers staining her beautiful pale dress and yet the lady barely even blinked when asking to deliver a soft kiss to the cheek of the Primarch.

“Well… Mortarion looks happy at least.” Ferrus answered, trying to distract the white-haired demigod to what was possibly his major headache.

And wasn’t that the most prominent truth around it? For as confusing as the sight was to The Phoenician, their brother found this beautiful flower and did what any sane person would do: he kept her for himself.

Hope yall liked it <33

[bad268]

Can you please write a Pezzy x gn! reader for the truth or hydrate stream, where the reader admits that they’d date Pezzy & find him attractive (and maybe make some suggestive jokes), and how he & the others would react? I love your writing, by the way, keep up the great work!

Confess or Drink (Pezzy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (did I start this the same way as the last one? Yes. Why? Because it’s from the same video, but trust, I did change it lol)

Warnings: Mentioned reader being on Adderall

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1547

Summary: A little too much alcohol and a little too much confessed.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“What’s up gamers? How y’all doing today?” Droid started off as people began flooding into the stream. I was grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge as the guys bantered back and forth before sitting next to Pezzy, closer to the computer to read the chat. “Someone wanna explain bruh? It’s a lot.”

“Bitch, it’s your thing!” Grizzy laughed along with Puffer and Pezzy while rolled my eyes and cracked open a Mike’s. 

“Geez, we’re doing truth or drink,” Droid explained, going into deeper detail. Puffer, jokingly, started snoring, so Droid said, “Aye, quiet down in the back, yeah?”

“Chat says it's a slumber party,” I laughed, pointing out since the message was highlighted. 

“Guys, take your shoes off, stay awhile. Slumber party!” Pezzy joked, enthusiastically. “Are your feet stinky?”

“Please don’t. I do not need chat spamming about feet for the next 2 hours,” I groaned as I leaned back. Droid was already pulling his shoes off and trying to smell them. “Can you not?”

“I can smell them from here actually! Those actually smell,” Puffer complained. Droid tried to smell his feet again, and he made a face before putting his shoes on.

“You realized they stink?” I asked rhetorically, chuckling as I took a drink. “Okay, what are we doing?”

“This is the dealio,” Droid started. “Truth or drink. If someone doesn’t want to answer a question, they have to take a shot.”

“Oh, this was meant to be hot sauce?” Grizzy asked, looking at the box.

“Yeah, it's a Hot Ones game,” I laughed, leaning over Pezzy to point at the box.

“He’s a pussy, dude,” Pezzy stated.

“Y’all keep it at 89 fucking degrees in this house. You think I want hot sauce right now?” Grizzy emphasized.

“That’s all Pezzy, bruh,” Droid muttered.

“Ok, ladies,” I interrupted. “Let’s just do the first card. Puffer can start ‘cause he’s at the end. Simple.”

“And this is why we have you,” Pezzy laughed. “Keep us on track.”

“Oh, yeah have the person who relies on Adderall to keep y'all on track,” You responded sarcastically. “Makes sense to me.”

“Okay, guys. What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?” Puffer read off the card before turning his attention to the rest of us.  

“I shit my pants in a car ride home with my friends,” Grizzy said immediately. We all started talking over each other until Grizzy interrupted us, “I was like 8, bro!”

“I got one,” Puffer paused as Droid said that he knew it. “I fell in the San Antonio River.”

“OH! What the fuck?!” Droid shouted. All of us started laughing as Puffer told the story of the bike breaking and flinging him into the river. “There’s no ladder, so once you’re in, you’re in.”

“My dad took me to the track,” Droid started, going into a long story about how he shit himself immediately after arriving home. “I think I was just relieved to be home and I made it far enough.”

“Mine was when I was in school and I trusted a fart too much,” Pezzy began. “I had to call my mom and say I shit my pants.”

“Holy shit, guys! Literally!” I laughed as I finished my first drink. “While I did not shit myself after age 6, I ‘fell’ into the fountain in Las Vegas during the national anthem once for $100. Try explaining you’re broke to the police and them not believing you.”

“That’s crazy dude,” Pezzy laughed.

“Crazy? I was crazy once-”

“NO stop!”

~

“Who would you trade lives with?”

“Puffer?” Droid and Grizzy eyed him.

“Nah, I’m good. My answer is I’m good,” Puffer said fast.

“I think I’d be down to swap with Pezzy,” I chuckled, looking over to him. I held up my drink as if to cheers with him. “What do you say?”

“I’m down,” He agreed, clanking his bottle with mine.

~

“Who have you fantasized about in your life that you shouldn’t have? No celebrities allowed,” Pezzy read. 

“Pezzy. Next question,” I said quickly.

“Why? Do you not want to admit who you’ve fantasized about?” Puffer laughed causing the rest to start laughing as well.

“What? I answered already,” I replied confused, ”It’s y’all’s turn.”

“Wait, you’re blushing!” Grizzy pointed out as he started wheezing.

“You’re answer was Pezzy?!” Droid shouted in disbelief. Everyone was still cracking up, and Pezzy was leaning back against the couch, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Yes!” I shouted back. I leaned forward as I pointed back at Pezzy. “Have you SEEN him? He’s hot!”

“Can we not talk about this live and drunk?” Pezzy intervened.

“No! This guy thinks it's so random that I find you hot!”

“It’s because of his nose right?” Droid shouted as he pointed at Pezzy, “I fucking told you! I knew that shit was pleasing someone!”

“Okay, I’d rather not talk about my sex life on live, my guy,” I drew the line. Despite being pretty drunk, I knew that would be a slippery slope.

“Well, it looks like you’re gonna have to. What was your most recent porn search?” Droid asked. Everyone started complaining, saying they were going to take a shot.

“I will take the shot dude,” I laughed, already downing the Crown. “Wait I got a question. Do any of you dabble in the hentai?”

Immediately, the boys responded with “Yes.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as I cringed at all of them. “Y’all are fucking gross. Do y’all feel disgusting afterward because damn that's actually nasty.”

“I have gone so far down that rabbit hole, it is not even funny,” Pezzy admitted. 

“You are really feeling those drinks, huh” Grizzy laughed. 

“Yes, I am,” Pezzy responded definitively.

“We did not need to know you that personally, Pezzy,” I laughed, taking a shot.

“Seems like you wanted to know him pretty personally,” Puffer muttered as he took a drink.

“Yes, but not that kind of personally,” I laughed. “I’m gonna head out before I destroy my career more than I already have. If someone wants to follow me,” I jokingly coughed out Pezzy’s name, “I’ll be in my room.”

“I don’t think I want to continue living in this house, knowing what you two will be doing in there,” Grizzy grimaced as he stood up and left the room. 

“Meg’s gonna pick me up. Yall can stay the night if you really need out,” Puffer offered as Droid ended the stream and started cleaning up around the living room. 

That’s when they all noticed that Pezzy was still sitting on the couch. He was not making any move to move either, so naturally, Droid, being the nosey guy he is, asked about it. “Are you really gonna let this opportunity go? They practically asked you to meet in their room.”

“We’re both drunk,” Pezzy groaned. “I’m not gonna take advantage of them like that. We’ll talk in the morning or something.”

“Are you sure you’ll even remember it in the morning?” Puffer asked as Grizzy came back with water bottles for everyone.

“The love of my life just admitted that they found me hot. I will definitely remember this in the morning,” Pezzy sighed before standing and heading to his room for the night.

The next morning, the house was eerily quiet when I walked into the kitchen. There was a note on the table, saying that Grizzy and Droid went to Puffer’s house for the night. I just shrugged to myself and moved around the kitchen. I opened a bottle of Sprite and left it open on the counter while I started making breakfast. Not anything too complex, just simple eggs.

It did not take long for Pezzy to come walking into the kitchen and sit at the island. I turned my head back to see him with his head resting against his forearms on the granite. I chuckled to myself before asking, “How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled, please,” He groaned as he turned his head to look at me. That’s when he noticed that his view was blocked by the Sprite bottle. “What’s with the Sprite? Isn’t it a bit early for soda?”

“Flat Sprite is the best cure for a hangover,” I replied as I mixed up and cooked the eggs. “I think I ran out of ibuprofen last time, and we could split it if you want. We’ll need to talk about last night at some point. Grizzy and Droid won’t be back until later.”

“Why don’t we go for lunch?” Pezzy offered as he took a couple of drinks of the Sprite. “We could take the bike.”

“I literally just made eggs,” I groaned holding out the pan for him to see that they were almost finished cooking. 

“Give it to the dog,” He laughed, standing up to wrap his arms around my waist as he leaned his head on my shoulder. “It’ll be my treat.”

“As long as I get to rev your bike at least once, I’m down,” I countered, leaning back into his chest. 

“You can rev it all you want,” He smirked, rubbing his face in my neck.

“Okay, you ruined it,” I laughed as I pushed away from him. “Go get ready while I give this to the dog.”

~~ Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[clairoscharm]

━ my pov of ellie iv

cr : @idontgetanysleep & pinterest for the pics

dayana's talk : some of these happened to me irl lol #homoeroticfriendship #casual #itsbeenawhile

DAILY CLICK

DONT BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

🍒 would tap your hands or you (in general) to sign as she wants to hold your hands

💋 do some artsy stuff for you even tho she thinks she is bad at it…

🍎 probably would say can i hold your hands LMFAO (#truestory) we love asking for consent type of ppl

🍒 the type that would draw something on your hands or the one who got drawn & she wouldn't mind it cause she's enjoying it.

💋 would send you videos or voice messages of her playing guitar or even playing it for you when the two of you are hanging out at her house.

🍎 shes a pussy i fear in a horror roblox game i fear (#me)

🍒 but she would be helpful especially if the games have riddles!

💋 probably would say or ask you to listen to an album together (charm by clairo & a new album from beabadoobee #selfinserted)

🍎 and would talk about which song is her fav and talk about the vibes and the beat from the album

🍒 would stay up all night (waiting for you to sleep first) on the phone bc you're scared of something/overthinking

💋 she's the type of person who would enjoy silence with someone she loves

🍎 her cooking for you when you're sick with help from joel or maybe dina!

🍒 MOVE A LOT WHEN SLEEPING

💋 the type who would say "farts incoming" to you

🍎 doesn't know how to do braids but knows how to tie a hair...? does that make sense?

🍒 would dedicate a board that fills with photobooth pictures (with you) or some drawing (from you) and hang it in her room, literally dedicated to you lol

💋 talks about EVERYTHING

🍎 i feel like ellie is dinosaur & wildlife animal enthusiastic as for abby she is more of a marine life girl.. idk it make sense to me... (im just saying)

🍒 her love language is cutting fruits for you as a snacks

💋 she loveeeeeeeee spending time with you to the point that she would go to your house every day back then

🍎 would sing the meow meow (what was i made for) song to annoy you or anytime she's feeling sad

🍒 ellie is not stingy with you, she would definitely buy you everything (if she could)

💋 her diary or journal fills with her yapping about you

🍎 would yapping to joel, dina and jesse as well. she swear she didn't mean too!!

🍒 drawing and doodling together

💋 would take everything in her not to burden you (shes overthinks a lot and also w her other problems) and ofc you would give her words of affirmation

🍎 ellie probably start doing something or gestures that you do as well without herself noticing it like she tries to get more involved with films and tv shows just because you're a major film nerd

🍒 not good with words umm... but she tries her best tho!

💋 you sure do make her feel like she's juna by clairo (this is hinted i am writing a shot based on this song)

🍎 i feel like being in a relationship with ellie is like a calm sunday morning with warm tea in hand as you talk with your partner about the future, present and past.

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 23 “Smells Like Sheet”[Episode List]

Due to a cliché, Tim and the-gassy-as-usual Dave have to share a bed. Who could possibly know what's gonna happen next... though it may involve a dutch oven that's for sure.

POV: Tim

Smells Like Sheet

“Tim Slade and Dave Maning, right?” the receptionist kindly asked.

The hotel hall around us was way too… glittery for my standards, but that’s what happens when Dave asks you to join him for a business trip. Well, not really a business trip, but rather a rather some kind of celebration for a milestone that The Company he works for reached, and given that it was also thanks to him, he was invited to this very special dinner. However, it wasn’t as fancy or formal as the location may suggest, as Dave’s boss did tell everyone that they could let one friend or partner join the night: after all, it was a party.

My bro usually hates going to “parties” planned by The Company but since this celebration in particular was an important event, which also could lead to yet another promotion, me, our other friends and Dana (his girlfriend) basically forced him to go.

What I didn’t expect is that I’d be the one joining him instead of Dana. This happened for 2 reasons:

Reason 1: Dana was busy with her own job and couldn’t join his boyfriend even if she wanted to but, just like him, she too hates this kind of events (they’re really made for each other, huh? Can’t say I disagree however…).

Reason 2: Dave actually wanted to introduce me to his boss because they’re looking for someone with video-making skills to film something for them, maybe some kind of motivational video that corporations love to do.

So here we are, the receptionist of this fancy hotel handing us the key to our room.

“Here you go: Room 669”

“Heh. Ni-Nice” both me and Dave said, because our brains stopped working at the same time.

The receptionist pretended he didn’t hear a thing, thankfully.

We then walked through the fancy hall and took the elevator, just the two of us. We didn’t have any luggage with us, since it was just for one night, so our backpacks were enough.

“So silent…” Dave said.

“What?” I asked.

“This elevator. I can hear my own heart beating. I’m impressed.”

I stared at him, his tall figure, wearing a grey shirt and pair of black jeans. My mind immediately went to one time we took an elevator ride together and immediately stopped him before he could do anything uncalled for.

“Dude, have mercy. There’s other people who’s gonna need this elevator.”

Dave was standing next to me and turned to me, sporting a puzzled expression. He seemed confused by my words, I could tell he wasn’t being sarcastic or anything, maybe.

“What? What do you mean?”

Right. It’s not like people always thinks about farts… not that I do, believe it or not. 

I felt very embarrassed to be honest.

“S-sorry. I just thought… y-you know…” 

“Ok… you’re stuttering like an idiot…” he said. “so I’m pretty sure you thought I was going to break the silence with one of my farts, right?” the way he asked it so casually was already oddly… hot for me, but also reassuring.

“Yes.” I simply replied, hating the elevator for how long it was taking to reach our destination. “I’m sorry. But believe me, I was telling you this because I don’t want people to choke on your gas.”

He leaned towards me a bit. “Unless it’s you, right?” he whispered, the bastard.

“Shut up!” I said, as he laughed like a jerk.

Once again, silence. Dave being chill around me makes me stutter more than his blasts.

However, after like 10 seconds, I decided to break the silence instead.

“You were totally going to far-“

“Yes” he cut me off “I was totally going to destroy this elevator but you, of all people, stopped me.”

We both laughed like idiots and the doors opened. Indeed, people stepped inside as we left. They don’t know that I probably saved their nostrils, I’m the unsung hero of their story.

—

We reached our room mere seconds later. We stepped inside, but not before both me and Dave could once again go “Ni-nice” at the same time the moment we saw our room number hanging on the door. This is gonna be a thing for the next few ours so brace yourself, readers.

The room was exactly as you may expect: big, fancy, with all the comforts and more, big windows and a nice view on the city, and a queen-size bed in the middle. I almost felt out of place: it truly looks like a perfect room for an actual couple.

And no, weirdly enough the queen bed didn’t make me nervous: both me and Dave knew it was gonna happen so I already had my awkward phase back at home. My friend is chill and he doesn’t care about sharing the bed with a gay man like me, plus it already happened sometime ago anyway.

All of those doubts always sound so silly when I stop and remember how I spend way too much time with my face planted into my friend’s farting ass, courtesy of his skills and the fact that in his own non-kinky way he enjoys making sure that almost none of his farts go to waste. Well, none except the one he started ripping as I opened my backpack and sat on the bed, his way to assert dominance every time we go into a hotel room. Loud, long and proud, around 7 seconds long, so basically a medium-sized one for Dave’s standards. 

My bro raised his left hand and pointed his index finger up as the fart ended on a high note, as if he was conducting his own rip like it was an orchestra. As the blast ended, he just stared at me with a silly smile, something that he’d always do even before he found out about my kink: he’s just your average gassy friend, can’t do anything about that.

“So…” I tried to ignore the scent that reached my nose. “What’s the plan for tonight?” I asked.

“First thing first, we gotta take a shower. Not together at the same time I’m afraid. You can go first.”

“You can join me if you want…” I said, winking at him as I went into the bathroom.

“D-don’t make me horny dude!” he jokingly replied.

—

I was drying my hair by the bed while Dave took a shower (it was his turn). As I said, while it wasn’t the fancy night one might except, we kind of had to look really good, me especially, because Dave’s boss is a fine guy, but also one of those “first impression is best impression” dudes. I mean, the shower was obvious, but me going as far as making sure my hair look great, while normally I wouldn’t even use a comb, is telling.

I heard, or rather, didn’t hear the shower anymore so I knew Dave was done. What I did hear however was his ass being talky tonight, exploding in a thunderous, wet post-shower rip that easily surpassed the hair dryer’s notably loud sound. I didn’t properly see Dave ripping ass, but the fact that I could hear it so clearly was yet another proof of his incredible skills. He didn’t even comment on it, I mean it’s not like every time he farts we have to acknowledge my kink, when even I sometimes just ignore it.

“I hope you heard that, honey.” 

I heard the bastard say from the bathroom.

Yes, I sometimes just ignore it… until Dave makes sure I don’t.

—-

Finally we were ready to leave. The Company held this important dinner basically downstairs, in the hotel’s restaurant. They basically booked the entire place so we could eat, drink and just hang out together, talking about business in a surprisingly relaxing and chill environment. This was reflected in our clothes, as they were formal-ish but not, you know, wedding-tier. Dave was wearing a white shirt, sleeves pulled up, black jeans and black sneakers. I was basically dressed the same, only my shirt was grey.

“Nice. You almost look fuckable tonight.” my friend told me, as he sprayed some last bits of deodorant around us.

“I was gonna tell you the same.” 

“Well... we are in room 669 you know...” he winked at me and then headed for the door.

(Ni-Nice!)

—

Dinner was pretty good and varied, they really spared no expenses, especially considering how The Company even paid for everyone’s rooms (not that there were many guests, but still). There was meat, vegetables and even some vegan options on the menu. Both me and Dave liked the idea of trying a bit of everything, while most of the other work colleagues went for a pure carnivore approach. Alcohol was beer or wine, or both, but better not mix things up. 

Dave’s boss sometimes proposed a toast blabbering about how The Company is actually one big family… before laughing at his own overused figure of speech: he was cynical yes, but I can respect his self-awareness and lack of no-nonsense speeches about how “we’re all in this together” when we all know this isn’t true.

It all went pretty well: food was great, most of my friend’s colleagues were pretty cool I guess, and after talking for like 30 minutes, the boss simply told me to send him my portfolio, no strings attached or anything. 

Honestly I had more fun than I was expecting. Almost everything was free and everyone, whether it was a facade or not, was very nice to us, so honestly I can’t complain, only appreciate this fancy-ish night.

—

At around 2:00 AM, Dave and I got back to our room (Ni-Nice!), announcing our entrance with Dave letting out a loud belch that I’m sure tasted like the dessert. The dinner at the hotel restaurant was pretty straight-forward so once we were done eating and drinking, we had like 2 more hours of casual chatting and more drinking. There was music but it’s not like the place turned into a disco for us.

We weren’t really tired nor drunk, just a bit tipsy. We clumsily removed our shoes and collapsed on the bed. I turned the TV on and we just casually mindlessly watched it while checking our phones.

Being a queen size bed, Dave was obviously lying next to me, to my left: he was shirtless, sporting a pretty good body figure, no actual ribs but pecs were there. Given how much we ate and drank tonight, he also looked slightly bloated. His black jeans were in fact pretty loose as he untied his belt once we got back into the room. Covering his feet, a kind of out-of-place but weirdly cute pair of purple socks with a butterfly pattern on it.

We finally could talk about the night we just had, The Company itself, and most importantly make not very polite comments about a co-worker Dave particularly despises for how fake he is, one of those people ready to throw you under a bus even if that means he can get something as worthless a pat on the back by the boss.

“Your boss however” I said “really surprised me. He looks pretty chill. I think I might even enjoy working for him, about the video and all you know.”

“Yeah.” my friend remarked. “I mean he still IS the boss don’t let that fool you, but he is quite honest at least.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind when I’ll get to make the video… if he wants me to do it of course.”

“Did you send him your portfolio?”

“I just did actually. I had it zipped on my phone.”

Dave gently punched my shoulder in approval, because we’re really mature men.

“Well done bro.” he said. “I guess we gotta celebrate.”

“Yeah… with fireworks and all.” I said, sarcastically, while checking my phone.

Dave laughed. “I can help with that.”

My friend completely misinterpreted what I said and decided to showoff his well-known skills. He leaned just a bit on his side, pointing his black-denim ass towards my side of the bed, raised his right leg and let it rip. Loud, thunderous and as powerful as they come, Dave’s fart (arguably the first of a long series) almost activated my fight or flight response as I wasn’t really expecting it this time. However, it was as loud as a firework display going off in our room. The more the fart kept going, the more he raised his long leg, effectively adjusting the sound and the tone of the fart, going from lower to higher pitched. 

After I took a good look of his denim ass, I then turned directly to him: he was visibly pushing one out, with a smirk drawn on his face; he looked back at me and smiled, winking at me as the fart still echoed in the room, easily surpassing the sounds coming from the TV, which could very well be set on mute at this point.

This wasn't an elevator, so no way I was gonna stop him this time.

The already long and impressive 15 seconds fart ended with a series of 4 loud toots, which sounded a bit more difficult to properly push out, judging by Dave’s facial expressions; but still, my friend still managed to do it effortlessly, once again showing off this impressive talent. Furthermore, and this goes without saying, the stench hit my face pretty soon, as an invisible gas cloud engulfed our bed. I could basically tell what Dave had for dinner without even taking a deep whiff.

Finally, my friend’s ass went silent. Dave adjusted his position and laid down normally next to me, laughing.

“Dude” I said, trying not to laugh myself “I didn’t mean that kind of fireworks.” 

Dave was visibly puzzled, but amused. I thought he was messing with me but apparently he did misinterpret my words for real.

“Ahah I’m sorry man.” he apologized. “Well it’s not like you mind anyway, don’t you?” 

I just remained silent in front of the truth, doing my best to focus on my phone instead, but Dave obviously wasn’t done, as another loud fart erupted, making the entire bed shake.

I was horny as hell, but I just didn’t know how to act while the second blast was being ripped next to me. I wanted to plant my face into his ass but I didn’t want to take advantage of my friend being so chill about my kink. Plus it’s not like he doesn’t fart in my face; in fact, I’d even say that he facefarts me way too often!

The fart was just as loud as the previous one, if not louder. It was all natural, powered by the dinner we had and the gallons of alcohol he ingested. The smell was there, but Dave’s main treat for me was his ability to rip such long and loud farts so often: he will never cease to amaze me.

12 seconds, a bit shorter than the first one, but still a sight to sore eye… and nose, mostly.

“Alright. I’m gonna get ready to sleep.” he casually said, as he left the bed. “You can still watch the TV if you want, just don’t watch anything too loud.”

I snapped back to reality. “You have the audacity to tell me not to be loud?” 

He laughed, knowing exactly what I was referring to.

“But that’s fine, I’m too tired anyway.” 

We both changed at the same time, slipping into something more comfortable, which consisted in a generic white shirt and sweatpants, for me at least. The room was warm enough so Dave slept shirtless and only wore a pair of black boxers brief, a boxer that, just like his socks, did sport a silly pattern, this time with stars.

I went to brush my teeth and then slipped under the blankets, with my friend joining mere minutes later.

“Goodnight bro.” he said, clapping his hands 2 times, hoping the lights would magically turn off.

Surprisingly enough, the lights did turn off, truly a fancy hotel!

“No fucking way.” we both said, as if we witnessed something that happens once in a lifetime.

They didn’t exactly turn off however, but rather went dim, so I could still kind of see what’s going on. It was dark enough to sleep however, as both me and my bro prefer to sleep in darkness.

Now I felt truly tired, so I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.

As expected, however, my friend wasn’t done talking; well, his ass certainly wasn’t.

I felt its vibrations immediately, as a muffled powerful rip made the bed shake. 

“Still?” I said, pretending to be as annoyed as I could.

“Shhh.” Dave cut me off, his index finger up, basically inviting me to listen to what his butt had to say.

Indeed, the ass was very talk and the fart was indeed impressive, deep-sounding and, well, manly. Despite being muffled, I could perfectly hear it. Fortunately, the stench was trapped under the blankets, like a bed-sized tuna can. My gassy friend knew it, so the bastard, with a deft movement, pullet the blanket all over me, trapping me in the metaphorical tuna can. 

Now I could hear and feel the flatulence properly, as Dave slightly lifted his ass a bit to ease the blast out, which was still going by the way. It felt like my friend trapped me in a queen-sized cage with a wild, roaring beast. The stench also hit me like a truck and every breathe I took made me taste what we had for dinner again. I tried to move, to get out, but Dave had a firm grip on the blanket covering me and he made sure I inhaled every particle of gas he was ripping.

The dutch oven maneuver knows no mercy...

18 seconds and the long fart was finally done. My friend simply laughed but still didn’t let me go.

“If you can handle my boss, I’m sure you can handle... this.” he joked.

Another loud fart erupted, this time "short", 4 seconds, but one of the loudest of the night so far.

In the dark of the dimly-lit room and under the blanket, I could still see his boxer-clad ass, hugging his butt tightly, a very thin layer of fabric enduring incredibly powerful blasts. I'm surprised he didn't tear a hole through his underwear with such raw, powerful farts!

It’s like he knew I was staring, because he moved closer to me, his ass now touching my leg, dangerously close to where my crotch is. 

Now I was the one shaking under Dave’s power, as my friend started farting on me. The fart being ripped so close to my boner was a surreal experience and I felt like my dick was gonna blow, as if it was being struck by an earthquake that it couldn’t endure. Loud, long and proud, my bro’s farts never disappoint. Whether kinks are involved or not, one can only bow to such incredible skills.

My friend still kept me under the blanket as he filled the bed with poisonous gas. I started to cough, which only made Dave laugh like a jerk in response.

This one fart lasted around 9 seconds, but even though the ass was done talking, Dave still kept me under there, making my nostrils burn. He wasn’t directly farting in my face, but somehow this felt worse, stench-wise. There really was no way the gas could get out of that gas chamber made of blankets and I struggled to breathe. 

Now my bro showed off by ripping a quick series of loud, short toots, probably yet another big fart that he’s trying to rip in small doses, further proof of how “crafty” he could be when it came to fart-control.

“You know what…” he said, as the fart stopped.

I could feel he letting the blanket go, so I could easily get out of that gas chamber… but I didn’t want to, because I’m a mess and I wanted to see what Dave had in store for me for this torture.

He adjusted his position and, making sure my head was still under the blankets, he turned his whole long body around, wrapping his legs around my chest and face, fully planting his boxer-clad ass on my cheek. Oh, the pattern was made of hearts, not stars, how peculiar...

I instinctively sniffed and obviously the ass was warm and raunchy, given how much my friend has been farting. However, that wasn’t enough, as I felt him push, resuming the previous fart where it left off, this time however ripping it all at once, not in small doses like before. I just accepted it, I was basically Dave’s fart slave at this point and I didn’t mind. I just appreciated how chill he was, feeling like I was living the most beautiful dream (and nightmare, somehow).

The fart stopped after about 11 seconds.

As my face was completely planted in my friend’s ass, I even struggled to speak.

“I mean… we are in room 669 after all.” I said, trying to make an obvious joke.

I could hear Dave appreciate my dry sense of humor. “Ni-Nice.” he laughed, and then treated me with another quick blast which truly tested my eardrums, other than my nostrils.

Finally, it looked like he was done, as he laid next to me like a normal person. He even lifted the blanket, because I was too horny to do anything apparently. In the dimly-lit room, I could still see his usual smirk as he stared at me, amused by how much of a weirdo I am… or rather by how weirdos we both are in a way.

In terms of stench, the situation outside of that gas chamber wasn’t that different, but it was probably because my nostrils absorbed so much gas that it was impossible for me to sniff anything else, for a while at least.

“You still have to buy us beers though.” Dave said. “This doesn’t count as a celebration.”

“You sure?” I promptly replied. “I did hear the fireworks.”

“Yeah.” he said. “And you sure smell like one.” he cackled.

He then turned his back to me and went to sleep, wishing me goodnight as if he didn’t just rip tons of farts in the face of someone who has a fart kink. As usual, I wanted to thank him, but ironically enough he seemed more annoyed by me being thankful than my fetish, so I just relaxed, trying to ignore my massive boner, and went to sleep myself.

A couple of hours ago, Dave’s boss asked me what are some of my strengths: if “being able to endure my straight bro’s powerful farts” is considered a legit strength, then I’m gonna be CEO of The Company by next week.

End of Episode 23

[lnkedmyheart]

This is rambly but my thoughts so far:

Someone said this is Sigma's entrance exam and that could be it. Dazai leaving the rest of the mission to Sigma, Sigma's whole arc.

Dazai falling to his death in an elevator is funny cause that guy is unkillable. He aint dying and anyone saying otherwise is being deliberately obtuse.

We have good reason to believe Chuuya has broken free from the vampirism/mind control situation and it would be a stupid decision to not have him play any role here. So far Chuuya has done the bare minimum. Him working with Fyodor parallels Sigma switching sides. Except we know Chuuya would never betray his people, be it the PM or Dazai whereas Sigma had good reason to turn on Fyodor.

Fyodor seems a bit too cocky rn. A little TOO cocky if you ask me.

Chuuya is still behind Fyodor. Fyodor underestimates Sigma, doesnt know about Chuuya's anti mind control hat, appears to believe Dazai is about to die.

Fyodor has made the biggest mistake he could have made by calling skk's connection shallow, which is a set up for future pay off cause that was so out of left field and ridiculous and would be bad writing without said pay off.

Chuuya can control gravity/control the cables to slow down the descent of the elevator without his ability being nullified.

We didnt see Chuuya in the shot which showed the elevator with Dazai in it free falling, Fyodor losing his shit and Sigma being terrified. No Chuuya. It makes no sense to not have him in the shot. Where are you gravity boy? Off to rescue the damn fish again?

Sigma rescuing Dazai takes are actually quite interesting but I highly doubt Sigma would be able to rescue Dazai in any way. He also would have no reason to believe Dazai survived that fall. So honestly unless we get a character comeback it has got to be Chuuya. The latter also makes sense in regard to the skk bond slander from before.

I doubt we will see the Meursault girlies next chapter or anytime soon. Dazai is falling to his death, its a good time to take a year long break to switch POVs.

Anyway Chuuya, Fyodor abd Sigma are the major players left on the scene and if Dazai doesnt return soon for a "haha I lived bitch" reveal we have Sigma who has to now single handedly take on Fyoya, Fyodor who thinks Dazai is dead and Chuuya who is still a wild card that hasnt been used yet.

Also sigmazai moments for my bizai agenda. Yes Dazai, go around and kiss as many boys as you like. Live your boy kisser fantasies before mounting an elevator and falling to your almost death.

Yes I do be bullshitting about the sigmazai smooch but its close enough to looking like one. Imma be delulu and believe my brain farts cause bizai is more important to me than acting sane.

Fyodor brought in Chuuya because he knew it would get under Dazai's skin, which it did, Dazai proceeded to *drown* Chuuya (as if he didnt know Chuuya is an excellent swimmer since sb) while giving a gay ass speech and actually reminiscing all their moments (it meant something to him cause we were shown the moments as an audience, it wasnt just for show on his part), fyoya escaped and Fyo gave a whole "he's my tool now" speech and mocked skk's bond, something Dazai prides himself about) thereby confirming that Fyodor was convinced Dazai did not value Chuuya at all, meanwhile Chuuya is silent and hidden in the shadows this whole time clearly not a vampire, wearing his anti mind control hat, dazai proceeded to enter an elevator and fall to his death in a machine that has several parts not in direct contact with him. Fyodor lost it thinking Dazai died and Chuuya, the gravity manipulator is not in frame.

[cyberphuck]

ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED: PRELUDE

My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about the Farseer Trilogy, but doesn't want to actually have to read the books, so I'm summarizing them for them (and you)!

 Read previous entries

 LAST TIME, ON DRAGON BOOK Z: Fitz is a bastard who knows telepathy and talks to animals. He's taught to be an assassin, then goes up to the mountains on a mission and completely fails at it. His uncle tries to kill him. His OTHER uncle gets married.

 CAST OF CHARACTERS (holy shit there are so many characters in this book)

 THE FARSEERS

Six Duchies royal family, of which several members are now dead. This will include Farseers-by-Marriage (Dead or head-exploded characters will have their own category).

 FitzChivalry Farseer: The POV character, Prince Chivalry's bastard. Loyal as a K-Pop stan who still has a BTS McNugget meal preserved in their freezer. He possesses both the Skill (Professor X telepathy) and the Wit (Dr. Doolittle animal chats).

 Prince Verity: Currently King-in-Waiting, a lifelong second-in-command who was suddenly thrust into a leadership role when his older brother fucked off to be assassinated. Recently married, super strong in the Skill, does not ask for consent before mind-molesting Fitz.

 Queen Kettricken: Recently married to Verity, she came all the way from the Mountain Kingdom to clean up Buckkeep and be miserable because she's used to doing Crossfit in the snow and now she has to sit and pretend to laugh at other people's jokes.

 Prince Regal: The sneaky, moustache-twirling evil younger half brother of Verity. He killed like four people at Verity's wedding and tried to murder Fitz with a hot tub, and they just sort of let him get away with it.

 King Shrewd: The current king, currently pretty old and afflicted with some kind of wasting disease. Fitz is technically bound to him by a pact he made as a child, but they both kind of ignore that most of the time.

 Chade: King Shrewd’s older half-brother on the wrong side of the sheets. An assassin. Lives in the walls. Has a weasel. Came out of the wall into Fitz's room and taught him how to be an assassin. Sort of a father figure, but the kind that yells at you to hold the flashlight steady while he works on the car.

 Patience: Chivalry’s widow. Helicopter-parents Fitz whenever he comes within fifteen feet of her. The ADHD champion of the Six ooh is that a book on rare ferns?

 NOBLES

 Duke Brawndy: Duke of Ripplekeep, a pretty stand-up dude. Father to Celerity and member of the Fitz Fan Club.

 Lady Celerity: Has a big ol' fourteen-year-old crush on handsome, virile Fitz. She's pretty okay for someone who was named after a vegetable you put peanut butter on.

 Duke Kelvar: Remember him? He finally manned his fucking watchtowers at Neatbay. Fitz fanclub member. Husband to Lady Grace, his young hotness wife whose dog Fitz pulled a fish bone out of.

 CASTLE AND STABLE FOLK

 Burrich: Fitz's primary father figure, the kind that takes you to football games and Hooters to try to flush the Gay out of you. Stablemaster of Buckkeep, and also has the Wit. Used to be heterosexual life partners with Prince Chivalry. Took several blows to the head last book and seems to be okay.

 Hands: Fitz's stablehand friend. He's been relegated to background character.

 Lacy: Patience’s serving woman and bestie. Makes lace, nods indulgently and will stab you.

 The Fool: Albino freak-teenager with a special interest in cryptids and making up rhymes about farting. King Shrewd's jester.

 Justin: Part of the Skill Coterie. Hangs out with Serene most of the time, card-carrying member of the Fitz Sucks and Smells Bad club.

 Serene: The only female member of the Skill Coterie. Treasurer of the Fitz Sucks and Smells Bad club.

 Carrod: Local fop and member of the Skill Coterie. In this book he mostly sneers at Fitz and says cringe things while everyone else is trying to work.

 Burl: Part of the Skill Coterie... is Burl even in this book? I can't remember. Less dumb than you think he is.

 Will: Part of the Skill Coterie. Hangs out in shadows and stares fixedly at people.

 Molly Chandler: A candlemaker and servant who wants to go back to being a candlemaker. Girlboss. Fitz would buy her bathwater.

 Rosemary: Kettricken's page. She's just a little girl. So cute. What's she doing? Oh, she's coloring. Aww.

 Wallace: King Shrewd's servant and sometimes healer. One time the Fool calls him Wall's-ass.

 Bolt: A guardsman who shows up at the end of the book to punch Fitz repeatedly in the face. I only mention him here because he shows up in the next book as well.

 Blade: An older guardsman, Fitz fanclub member.

 ANIMALS:

 Cub/Nighteyes: A wolf soul-bonded to Fitz. Talks in italics. Possesses the single braincell out of everyone in the entire series.

 Sooty: Fitz’s horse. Best mare, perfect cinnamon roll and can do no wrong.

 Vixen: Burrich’s dog. Good dog.

 Slink: A weasel belonging to Chade.

 OTHER NOTABLES:

 The Red Ship Raiders: Mongolian Vikings who have been Viking their merry way up and down the coast, burninating villages and kidnapping people to be Forged.

 Forged people: Zombies. It's a tiny bit more complicated than that, but you don't find that out for another like, six books, so: they're zombies.

 Lady Thyme: A horrible old woman who is really Chade in disguise. The Elderlings: Who are they? What are they? No one knows. 

 DEAD PEOPLE:

 Chivalry: Dead from probably assassination.

 Queen Desire: Regal's mom, dead from drug use but Regal THINKS it was assassination.

 Rurisk: Dead from poisoning by Regal.

 Cobb: Dead from stab by Fitz.

 Galen: Dead from Skill-explosion by Verity.

 August: Okay he's not DEAD, but Verity Skill-megaphoned him and he went to live on a farm upstate.

 Smithy: Went back to his home planet after Cobb hugged him and told him he was a good boy.

 Nosy: Went back to his home planet after saving Fitz from dying in a hot tub.

 MAGICS (I know magic is not a character, but they do have to be explained somewhere)

 The Wit: The ability to “bond” with certain animals and speak with them, as well as sense life force and to do a kind of mental shove at people. You tend to act a little like the animal you’ve bonded to. Witted people are considered gross and animalistic and are run out of town or put to death.

 The Skill: Telepathy. Considered the “birthright” of the Farseers. Most people can sense it at least a little, but it takes inborn talent and a lot of careful training to do anything useful with it. Skilling apparently feels awesome but if you give in to the temptation to fully open yourself to it you can get sucked out of your own brain.

 NEXT TIME: Part one of Royal Assassin Abridged!

[lauraroselam]

i wasn't sure if you would read the tags i'd leave if i reblogged your reply to my ask so i decided to just send you another ask! ha! i'll bullet point them this time bc i have quite a few things to say:

1. you can definitely keep my asks public, i really don't mind :)

2. never have i ever been so excited to open an email, and that too first thing in the morning. seeing your reply, especially that little treat at the end (!!!!!!!!!), had me smiling and kicking my feet in bed. i'm, impossibly enough, even more excited for Emberclaw now.

3. having more than one narrative position in a book is certainly ambitious and one that i haven't encountered in any other book so far, but it grows on you, fast (at least it did on me), and can be an acquired taste to some who are willing to give it a chance. i think you might just be the first author who has changed my mind completely on first person narratives and i owe it to your flawless delivery, of course (i'm biased, i'll admit). also, "narrative positions" was exactly the word that wouldn't come to me in my fit of excitement while writing my last ask; it was a tiny brain-fart moment on my part when i said "pov choice" instead haha.

4. this is more of an aside really but it once took me 400 pages (of a 800+ pages) to get into a book, so imho, 50 pages isn't asking for much. fantasy novels tend to be a little demanding! also, it was my first proper foray into epic fantasy. i then went on to finish the series despite the really, really, really slow start. the slowest. i think a reader can tell when the wait will be worth it though, almost like a gut feeling.

5. multi-pov is another polarizing aspect of books, but then again, it can be enjoyed if done well. i once read a book with 14 povs and gave it 5 stars. it wasn't even a fantasy novel, but a contemporary one! in comparison, your book with its 4 povs is pretty tame, and i think, even the norm for epic/high fantasy novels. personally, i enjoy being in the head of different characters! especially when you've got a big cast of them. also, that surprise 5th pov toward the end took me quite by surprise!! jaw, meet floor.

6. i do have a GR account! and i certainly have plans on leaving well-deserved, glowing reviews on both the book and audio :) it's the least i can do!

7. this one is more of a suggestion to those who might find the narrative positioning a little jarring: listen to the audiobook instead; it warms you up to it much faster!

i think that just about covers it. again, i cannot say this enough, but Dragonfall would not be the story i fell absolutely in love with had you not made the narrative (ha!) choices you did. i hope more people come to appreciate and love it as much as i do, and are willing to give it the fair chance it deserves <3

much love 💖

I think I'd see the tags! I'm so out of practice with Tumblr, but I have enjoyed coming back to it as I feel in some ways I can be more authentic over here rather than the more traditional promo over on tiktok and insta. Not that I'm inauthentic elsewhere it's just...here you can be a bit more off the cuff, I think?

1. Whew!

2. Aww yay! Interacting with readers is honestly one of my favourite things. I'm so excited when I hear from someone who got what I was trying to do. Releasing art for public consumption can be excellent but also hard. Dragonfall is probably my most personal book, so it being marmite made me so self-conscious. I always think about that Don Marquis quote "Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo." It's nice when you get the echoes back. :-)

3. I was inspired to be experimental after reading The Fifth Season, which is a masterpiece. I've heard good things about The Spear Cuts Through Water which also does cool narrative position trickery, I think. I also really love framing devices of people looking back, like in Assassin's Apprentice by Hobb (my fave author, as evidenced by the dedication). I'm glad I could open you up to all the opportunities of first person! I taught a class on narrative positions when I was a creative writing lecturer so I'm just very passionate about how form can marry function, hah.

4. Yes, four (technically five) is tame compared to some! I did seven in Seven Mercies and whew, that was a lot, even though technically my co-writer and I mostly split it up. My next projects will be 2 and then 1 as a bit of a breather. It is harder to balance multi POV, but I love the "heteroglossia" potential of storytelling.

6. Thank you!

7. I wish I could listen to the audiobooks of my books! I get too self-conscious or want to edit. I can say that Philip and Rachel did amazing jobs from the samples I head, though, and I was super excited they hired a nonbinary voice actor for Arcady. This was also my first time having more than one voice actor, which was neat.

And yes, I hope so too. <3

[miserablekingsteve]

My kinda lover; Part 1 Steve's POV 1/1 Part 2 Eddie's POV 1/2

Rating: T Word count: 8k You can also read this on AO3 <:)

Eddie laid in bed, eyes wide and heart hammering in his chest. The sound of tires on gravel crunched outside and Steve drove off with Robin. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he threw the duvet off and all but ran to the bathroom. He’d woken up entangled with Steve, who was trying to leave the bed, probably because Eddie was trying to hold the guy's fucking hand. He stared at himself in the mirror; curls stuck up and around his head, his bangs stood straight off his forehead, cheeks flushed a light pink, and the bags under his eyes were puffy. He looked like a mess. 

 Sighing, Eddie gripped the faucet of the tap and turned the cold water on full blast. When the cold liquid hit his hands, a shockwave vibrated throughout his body, and goosebumps appeared on his arms while he splashed the water on his face. 

 He’d had this stupid crush on Steve ever since 12th grade, when that switch had arrived where the asshole gorgeous jock suddenly had a heart of gold, dropping the shitty friends and smiling at Nancy like she held the world. When Steve stood up to Billy Hargrove and his face was all fucked up at school, yeah, that was a turn on for him.  

 “Argh,” He growled to himself, looking in the mirror again and rubbing his hands with aggression over his eyes and cheeks, “Stupid, it’s stupid!” 

 This had only happened to him once before, and by this he meant the very normal human thing to do in having a crush on someone. It was some boy named Clarke. God knows what the kid's last name was, in 5th grade; he had bright blonde hair and a ridiculous amount of freckles, he and Eddie used to sneak off the elementary grounds into the forest that resided next door and pick up sticks to play fight with. Then Eddie had moved to Hawkins to live with Wayne and he never saw Clarke again. 

 Pushing himself off the sink, giving up on the desperate search for something in his own face that he knew he’d never find. He’d done such a good job at avoiding his feelings for his friend the whole Upside Down adventure, then even more when the two of them sat together in a hospital room. The memory of making the ugliest fart jokes imaginable and actually made King Steve laugh, squeezing his eyes closed tight at the mere thought of the man’s laughter. Shit. 

 “Fucking… soft and, ugh, such a jock,” Eddie muttered under his breath as he searched the pockets of his many coats that sat in a pile behind his bedroom door. A bubble of frustration blossomed as each pocket came up empty, “Where the fu—Aha!”

 He held up the prized possession of a squashed pack of cigarettes to the sun that beamed through the window. His ears were met with a resounding silence, as he was home alone and it was just him at his trailer. 

 Throwing on a jacket and some jeans, he made his way outside, glancing at the clock and reading that it was only 8:30 am. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if someone called the cops just having seen him up this early. A pop came from his knees as he sat down on the hard metal doorstep, face scrunching up in discomfort when the prongs poked at his ass through the denim of his worn down pants. 

 “Fucking, shouldn’t have invited him,” He continued to mutter under his breath, telling himself off as he ignited the smoke. 

 “Why was Steve at your house?” A sleep addled voice asked. He grunted in response before he made eye contact with none other than Max Mayfield; the ginger's arms were crossed tightly over her sleep shirt, her thick locks were wrapped in two braids, an accusatory smirk written across her freckled face. 

 “That’s none of your business, Red,” Eddie mumbled around the pale smoke that curled above his head and then promptly disappeared. A brow raised when he noticed the lack of cane or brace support being used by the girl that morning, the scars from the massive stitches on her legs looked calm today.

 “See, I think it is,” Max argued. He rolled his eyes while he stretched his back out, letting the notches of his spine decompress and crack satisfactorily. Next time, he would make sure to not let himself sleep in a twin bed with another full grown man. 

 “It was movie night. Robin and Steve stayed over. There, now shoo, let a grown man express his hangover alone,” Eddie explained, waving her away with a flick of his wrist. The girl scoffed at him and then trudged her slippered feet away from his trailer. 

 After his cigarette was finished, he stubbed it out on the rusted metal of the stairs and threw the butt toward his and Uncle Wayne’s ashtray. He had one foot in the door when the phone rang loudly, his headache from emotions and weed pulsed against his eyes. 

 “I’m coming, I’m coming,” He uttered out loud, picking the yellow stained phone off the receiver, “Hello?” 

 “Eddie!” A very awake and ecstatic Gareth called through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d be awake!” 

 “Yeah, well I am,” Eddie pressed fingers to his left eye where most of the pain from his headache was isolated. 

 “Dude, you sound rough,” Gareth supplied, he could almost see the face the boy’s face was making. 

 “Late night,” He heard a soft ‘ooh’ from his friend, assuming he had a date, “Not like that, you ass.” 

 “Pfft, if you say so. I was just calling to confirm practice at Jeff’s tonight?” Gareth asked. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat when he remembered his half asleep conversation with Steve, oh god, he’d invited the man to their show. 

 “Uhh, yep! Yeah! That sounds great, I’ve gotta go man!” Eddie rushed out, suddenly in a state of panic, “I’ll see you tonight.” 

 “Uh, you oka—” Before Gareth could finish whatever he was going to ask, Eddie slammed the phone onto the wall and rushed out his front door. 

 Dew collected and seeped through his socks, in his haste he had forgotten to slip on his sneakers. Luckily, he was just going across to his neighbors. He paused at the Mayfield's door and started smacking the flat of his palm on the plastic film. 

 “I’m coming, hold on,” Max yelled angrily, the teen opened the door with her toothbrush in her mouth and a robe on, “What, Munson?” 

 “I-uh,” He actually did not know what his plan was, his palms were sweaty as he tugged on his fingers and flickered his eyes around anxiously. 

 “Ugh, my mum’s not home, get your scrawny butt in here,” Max said, voice muffled by the toothpaste collecting in her mouth. 

 Curls fell in front of his eyes when he bowed in thanks, hopping through the door. Her place was dark, the natural light blocked out by heavy orange curtains and the tv playing some random cooking show. 

 “Hold on,” Max told him before she walked away to the bathroom to evacuate the spit and rinse her mouth out. 

 “It’s so dark in here!” Eddie yelled after her, peering around curiously. There were rice krispie wrappers piled on the coffee table where a steaming mug of something sat. 

 “Yeah, well, some of us don’t want to be watched by our neighbors,” Max said, shuffling back into the living room, “So, what do you want?” 

 “I’ve got a problem… I don’t really have anyone else to go to about it,” He finished lamely, gripping his upper forearm in a tight grasp. 

 One of Max’s eyebrows rose, a small smile perked up on her lips, “Is it Robin?” 

 Eddie almost laughed outwardly at her from the absurdity of that, yeah sure he and Robin had talked about being each other's beards before, but then they contemplated when they found someone who was interested, how would everyone else take the sudden break up. So he schooled his face and lied to his young friend, “Yes, I- I invited her to my show in a couple of weeks, now I’m freaking out.” 

 She clapped her hands together and made a happy noise, “Oh! This is so exciting!” 

 “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your hopes up, you’ll make yourself sick,” Eddie joked as he moved and slumped down into a brown chair with an ashtray next to it. 

 “Shut up. So, why are you mainly freaking out?” Her eyes widened as if she got it, “Are you worried about Steve? Because, honestly I would be.” 

 He bit his lip to hold back another bark of laughter, sure he’d lied, but she was just spinning a tale of her own at that point. A smile creased the corners of his mouth and he placed his left hand over it so she wouldn’t become suspicious. 

 “I-How do you get it across that you like someone without, how do I put this,” Eddie sat and thought for a moment, “Making sure they don’t get scared and think you're overstepping?” 

 Frowning at the question raised, did he even want to press this problem further? His mind brought back the hazy images of the night before. Steve had closed his eyes one moment, and then the jock’s head lulled to the side and landed on Eddie’s bare shoulder. That single touch had sent Eddie flying toward the sun. A fire pit burned across his cheeks, but it hadn’t stopped there. No, Steve had to make the situation even worse by curling into his side even more than he had been before. And the position they’d been in before held Eddie’s arm that was thrown over the couch up, making it fall and wrap around the other man’s middle. 

 Eddie just chalked it up to being high. He’d cuddled with Gareth before. There were also times at a get together at Steve’s with Nancy and Jonathan where he and Robin curled up together while they all watched a movie. So, it was totally fine—

 “Earth to Eddie,” Max dragged him out of thought, one hand waving in front of his face. 

 “Well, she’s coming to your show, yeah?” She asked. Eddie nodded wordlessly, stomach flipping when the girl's grin grew 3 sizes larger than it already was, “Sing her a song then.” 

 “Absolutely. Not.” Eddie stated harshly. Max threw her head back in laughter, pointing a mocking finger at him. 

 “No, you definitely should!” Max hurried out, sliding down the couch to sidle up next to him, “Like, if she likes it and understands the message, she’ll come after you! But if she doesn’t, then no worries and you can move on!” 

 Shit, the girl had a point.

 “And luckily, Robin’s not a blundering idiot. Ha!” Max keeled over and rushed out a truth Eddie didn’t want to hear, “At least you’re not trying to seduce Steve!” 

 The blood drained from his face, fiddling with the bare space where his rings usually sat. Max fixed him with a questioning gaze when he didn’t join in her laughter and then he saw it sink in, “Oh, you’re screwed.” 

 There had never been an instance in his life when someone had figured him out so quickly. Her face hardened, and she sat back slightly. 

 “I’m sorry, I’m going to go,” He rushed out, spinning around almost as in time with how much his mind was turning.

 “Eddie! Wait!” Max called after him, creaking coming from the couch as she got up from it. Still slower on her feet since Vecna, “You ass, I don’t have my brace, sit your ass back down in my stinky chair!” 

 “No, thank you!” He called over his shoulder, the door handle cold in his grip. 

 He went to yank it open but Max confessed something that stopped him dead in his tracks, “I like girls!” 

 Slowly, his hand fell limp from the handle. He turned his body back toward the teen, eyes wide and mouth agape. He was in his early twenties and he’d only told all but 3 people; Wayne, Robin and Gareth. And here was this girl who hardly knew him and she just came out to him selflessly, so she could help. Right then was another moment, where he saw how cowardice truly presented itself. 

 Eddie crept back into the living room and sat cautiously next to her, not too sure what to do. Should he hug her and tell her some shit lie about being gay in America? 

 “And boys, I like both. A lot.” 

 Now, that was new, his eyes widened, “People can do that?” 

 Max shrugged, “I don’t know, but that’s what I feel. So why would it matter?” 

 Eddie swallowed and bobbed his head, “Right, totally.” 

 “Now… What are we going to do with you and your oblivious cotton swab head of a crush?” Max sighed, wiggling herself deep into the couch once again. 

 “Me? I’m fine,” Eddie scrunched his face up and fixed her with a confused glare. 

 “You looked like a wet chihuahua shivering when I figured out the truth,” Max scoffed and stared at him with a knowing look. 

 He gawked at her and then shook his head in denial, “No way, not me.” 

 “Shut up, and let me help you,” Max scolded. 

 “Ugh, fine,” Eddie gave in, turning his body so he and Max were face to face. 

X

 An unknown amount of time passed, Eddie didn’t know what time it was, but the sun had gotten low in the time he and Max had sat, concocting a plan that would help Steve figure it out a bit more. It was heavily detailed and there were lots of disagreements, Max always winning because at the end of the day, Eddie knew she was right. 

 “...So, all you really have to do is find out what song, or band he’s listening to right now and cover them, maybe drop some hints while you ask him about it,” Max explained, a yellow note pad held in her hand. 

 “Fuck,” He cursed when after all those hours he finally checked his watch, “I’ve gotten run, but it sounds like a plan. Also, thanks for all your help, truly.” 

 Max smiled at him, for maybe the first time since he’d known her, it set him on edge, “No, don’t smile at me, kid, it’s weird.” 

 “What the shit, dude? I just took my entire day helping you!” Max stuttered, a blush spread over her cheeks and he immediately felt bad. 

 “No! You’ve got a very nice smile, I’m just not used to seeing it! That’s all, shit I’m so bad at this,” Eddie hid his face in his hands. 

 “You’re good, I’m just messing with you,” Her trademark smirk on her lips once again. Eddie leaned forward and ruffled her head. 

 “That’s better,” He lilted, chuckling when the girl swatted at his hand. 

 “Remember the plan!” She called after him as he once again that day ran for the door. 

 “Promise!” That being his last word to the girl before he ran over to his place to pack up his guitar and get in the van. Checking again, he realized he probably had just enough time to make a quick sandwich before he hit the road. 

 “Sorry for the wait, sweetheart,” Eddie crooned to his beautiful guitar that saved his ass in the Upside Down. 

 Sliding on his dried socks to the kitchen, he threw deli meat, sub buns and mayo and mustard. Peeking down at the crisper where some wilted lettuce sat neglected. He shook his head in disgust, not wanting to smell the off green. As fast as he could, he slapped together the sandwich, shoving it in his mouth and hiking the sling of his guitar case over his shoulder. 

 Banshee was parked out front precariously, the blue paint glinting in the sunset. He smiled and stumbled down to her exterior. Carefully, he slid his precious instrument into the back, surrounded by a bunch of blankets to keep it from sliding around. Eddie would’ve loved to watch himself rushing, he always felt like everything would go wrong when he was, and if it wasn’t happening to him, he’d be cackling away like a hyena. 

 But when he turned his key in the ignition and the engine spluttered and then crashed, he wanted to vanish into a thin veil of smoke. 

 “Fuck!” He smacked his hands on the steering wheel. Reigning his thoughts back down, he tried to think of anyone he could call, Gareth lived all the way on the other side of Hawkins and there was no way he’d be caught dead dragging his most prized possession out in public. Especially with Jason’s goons still out to get him, they’d mug him just to fuck up his life. 

 He checked his watch again and realized he had 20 minutes to be there, “Shit, shit, sh—Oh!” An idea spurred in his head, maybe a small Max lived on his shoulder now, because no way would he have thought of this on his own. 

 Grabbing his guitar and jogging back inside, booking it to the kitchen to search the junk cupboard. The smell of aging paper and old metal hit Eddie’s nose, and he waved at the dust that puffed out in his haste. Flipping things up and over, searching for the thick bindings of, “Aha! The phonebook!” 

 Flipping the pages open he scanned through the H’s, quickly finding Harrington. He was surprised when he saw their household was the only one living in Hawkins with that last name. 

 Chanting Steve’s home number under his breath, he ran back over to the phone and punched the digits in. As the phone line rang, a pit formed in his stomach, and a whole litany of awful what ifs plagued his mind; what if one of Steve’s parents answered? Did they know who he was? Would they hang up and not tell Steve?

 “Harrington residence, Steve speaking. How may I help you?” 

 Eddie let out the breath he was holding and chuckled at the formal greeting, “That’s an interesting way to answer the phone, Big Boy.” He palmed himself in the face when the nickname slipped out, not on purpose like the other times had been. 

 “Hello, Eddie,” Steve laughed, “To what do I owe the pleasure, you ju--” 

 “Look, I’m so sorry to bother you man, but my van’s dead, and I really need to get to band practice and I was just wondering if it was no issue, maybe you could, I don’t know. Do me a solid and drive me over there?” Eddie rushed out, cringing when he cut Steve off, but it was too late to stop. 

 “Huh, oh sure,” Steve stumbled through the phone. 

 “Could you also pick me up after? I’ll make it a short practice,” Eddie added before he fucked himself over. He did not want to end up sleeping on Gareth’s garage couch again, the last time the cushions had fucked his neck up for weeks. 

 “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right over,” Steve assured through the phone. And Eddie relaxed his shoulders. 

 “Thanks, Steve,” He almost whispered. 

 “Okay, I’m uh, coming over now!” Steve declared before he hung up the phone. 

 “Stupid,” Eddie grumbled at himself again, leaning his forehead onto the wood where the phone lived. 

X 

 Thoughts of earlier that morning and late last night ran in circles in his head; the soft feeling of Steve cradled in his arm on the couch and soft murmurs that made him crack his eye open just to make sure the jock was okay in the middle of the night, if someone allowed it he could go on about it forever. He bounced his knee to expel some of his pent up nerves, while he waited for Steve to pull up in that stupidly beautiful BMW. As if on cue, the very car turned into the trailer park, gravel crunching under the wheels and coming to a halt outside his home. 

 There was music muffled inside the car, Steve leaned forward and turned it down before he lifted a hand and waved Eddie in. A blush painted his cheeks, waving back and pointing to the back seat, then at his guitar. Carefully, he slid sweetheart onto the leather bench..

 “Hey,” Steve’s tone was soft, and Eddie pinched his eyes close while his heart swooped. 

 Anxiety vibrated off him as he slid down into the passenger seat. His armpits sweat against the confines of his leather jacket, the insides of the car warmer than he expected. His chest felt tight as he huffed out harshly, as though he’d been running for the last 10 minutes. Steve hummed along to the song that lilted out of the speakers softly, his deft fingers tapped gently on the steering wheel. 

 “Thank you so much, you’re an absolute lifesaver,” Eddie greeted, eyes sliding over to Steve so he could watch the jock closely. The quirk of that flirtatious grin picked up at the corners of Steve’s mouth, but there was something deeper about it, like the thank you meant more to the man than he was letting on. 

 “Yeah, of course, dude. Least I can do. Thanks for letting me crash last night,” Steve laughed, ducking his head in embarrassment. Eddie recognized it to be that charming, shy way he’d witnessed the man do when he was talking to Nancy last March in the Winnebago. 

 “My pleasure, Harrington,” Eddie drawled, finding comfort in the car's darkness. Freddie Mercury’s voice wafted in the enclosed space. That intrigued him, he wasn’t an avid Queen listener but he could recognise that voice anywhere.

 Steve hummed along mindlessly, Eddie tapped along to the bass beat. He opened his mouth to compliment Steve on his less awful choice of music but was cut off by the soft sound of Steve singing; 

‘You masquerade, you're the catch of the season every night and day,’

 Eddie almost choked on the air, blushing furiously and staring straight ahead so the jock wouldn’t be able to see his shocked face. 

‘You you you don't have any time for me

You just keep foolin' around with me,’

 The lyrics were pointing and laughing at him. This man had shown no interest in him, and yet here was plotting with a 15-year-old girl how to subtly get him to pick up on the signals he accidentally puts out when they hung out. He chanced a peek out of the corner of his eye and blushed, which he didn’t think was possible when he saw Steve’s little smile and wave of his head. 

 “So, ahem, you do like actual music then?” Eddie deepened his voice and schooled his face into one that he hoped was collected and cool. 

 Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning onto the road, Eddie had directed him too, “Shut up, you’re just upset you can’t listen to whatever you want and not caring what people think about it.” 

 "Oh, trust me, people care, Stevie baby,” Eddie laughed, continuing to poke fun at the man who just rolled his eyes and turned up the music, “Some people only make fun of your music taste. And by some people, I mean me, I do.” 

 “You’re an asshole,” Steve cawed, as he drummed into the chorus of the next song on the cassette. 

 “Oh, shit. That’s the house,” Eddie pointed out, causing Steve to slam on the brakes. 

 “You’ve got my phone number to call me to come get you, yeah?” Steve asked, brow raised in question as those eyes gazed into his own. 

 Heart beating hard under his scarred chest, Eddie gulped and forced a huge grin on his face, showing Steve his number scrawled onto his hand, “You bet.” Winking awkwardly at Steve, who ducked his head bashfully again. 

 “Cool, see ya later, man,” Steve cleared his throat and then put both hands back on the wheel and got ready to drive away. 

‘I wanna be your kind of lover, give a little bit of feeling,’

 The BMW cruised away, leaving Eddie lost in thought in the middle of the road as the last lyrics of the song he’d heard replayed in his mind. After a beat of Freddie’s voice echoing against his skull, a light bulb went off as he got an idea, a huge grin spreading over his lips. 

 “Eddie?” Gareth’s confused voice called out from the open garage. The senior stood there waiting for Eddie to rush over. 

 “Shit, hey man, sorry. Banshee died on me,” Eddie explained, skidding to a halt inside with his friends. 

 “No worries, dude, we were just a bit…” Gareth’s eyes flickered to the two other members of Corroded Coffin, “...worried.”

 “Shit, sorry,” His brows turned upward in guilt. 

 “Well, nothin’ happened, so it’s behind us!” Jeff clapped, all of them nodded as they took in each other for the first time in months. Not usually practicing until right before the gig, so they won’t tire of the songs. 

 “So, we’ve got the whole setlist figured out, except for the cover song,” Gareth handed Eddie a folded piece of paper with pen scribbled names of their songs. He nodded along in agreement and then smiled at them with a crazed glint in his eye. 

 “I’ve got that covered, I’ll bring the sheet music next week. Let's just focus on this for now,” Eddie reassured his friends, unpacking his guitar and throwing the strand over his neck, “Shall we, boys?” 

 And with a couple of thundering hits from Gareth on the drums, they flowed into the first song easily. 

X

 Two weeks passed, and Eddie’s armpits reeked of nervous sweat. Jeff wrinkled his nose at him while the band hauled all their shit into the green room of the Hideout, which was just a cramped office off the side of the bar. There weren’t many people at the venue and that made him even more anxious. What if it was so isolated that the performance was stilted and weird.

 Jeff noticed his nervous fidgeting and raised a curious brow at him, “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” 

 “Huh? Oh, no I’m good,” Eddie replied, eyes flickering to the entrance then scanning the room. 

��“Sure, buddy,” Jeff said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Gareth smacked the other man’s chest in a warning before placing his drum equipment down gently. 

 “What?” Jeff splayed his hands out in question, provoking Gareth. 

 Eddie left the two to squabble and wandered outside to have a pre-show smoke—He knew Tristan would tell him off if he’d mentioned what he was doing, but in that moment it was probably going to be the only thing that would calm his fried nerves. 

 Breaching the doors out into the Spring air, Eddie had one hand down in the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out his squashed pack. The lighter clicked as he flicked it on, inhaling deep to ignite the end of the cigarette. Curiously, he checked left and right to keep an eye out for any more people arriving for the show. 

 “Keeping that all to yourself?” An unfamiliar voice said from his left. Eddie jumped and turned to capture whoever was talking to him. 

 There was a tall blond man who was leaning against the door with a smirk painted on his hairy face. He raised an eyebrow and kept his mouth shut around his smoke; the guy didn’t seem very thrilled by his disinterest. 

 “Never mind, jeez,” The man said, before pushing off the wall and thundering through the door of The Hideout. 

 “—The fuck,” Eddie wondered aloud, eyes wide with bewilderment as he took the smoke out of his mouth so he could stub it out with his boot. 

 Eddie reached for the grimy brass knob of the black painted door, some of the brown wood showed through from where it was chipping away. Before he could swing it open and breach the inside, a friendly honk sounded out behind him. He swiveled around with a huge grin on his face. Sure enough, packed into Jonathan Byers’ Ford Galaxie was Nancy Wheeler, Robin and the person he was so eager to see, Steve. Jon gave him a two finger salute as he continued his way forward to find parking. 

 He wrung his hands out, the bands of the rings on his fingers dug into his knuckles. Everything was fine, Steve AND Nancy were here—at his show—about to watch him play and sing. Robin and Jon had both swung by at some point when Corroded Coffin started up again. It had pleasantly surprised him when Jon showed up, explaining that he’d seen the post up at Cassettes and Things, which was their barren record shop. Most of the tapes and vinyl's there were hand-me downs from people’s dead grandparents. 

 But Nancy had never came along, which he was fine with. There was no reason for her to want to, Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly Wheeler friendly, and he knew that from the way Mike tended to wrinkle his nose every time Eddie tried to play his music louder in the van or after D&D when they were cleaning up. 

 Tapping his foot anxiously against the pavement waiting for his friends, he felt the sudden urge to throw up, but he pushed it down. Not needing to feed the apparent beast that was hungering for his impending embarrassment. 

 “Hey, man,” Jon greeted, hand reaching out to clap and grasp Eddie’s. He grinned and gladly responded to the notion. 

“Glad you could make it,” Eddie said before his eyes left the stoner’s and scanned Nancy, the girl was dressed in a nice black dress with a long sleeve white shirt underneath, clearly these people had no sense of how to dress for a metal show, “Wheeler, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

 She chuckled softly and ducked her head, arms looped underneath the jacket she had for later, “Don’t let it get to your head, I’m just here to make sure these airheads make it home alright.” 

 He bobbed his head in understanding, eyes flickering over to where Robin and Steve were. Robin was fussing over something that supposedly was on Steve’s lapel. 

 “Get off, Robin, it’s fine!” Steve crowed, pushing the grabbing hands of his friend. And, oh man, did he look good. Again, none of these normies knew at all how to dress for a metal show, but he was just happy Steve for once in his life ditched the polo shirts and instead a choppy cut Boston crop top, exposing his torso only a smidge before that was cut off by the tight hug from a pair of gray denim jeans. He felt faint of the sight of even a bit of lax, laid back on Steve. One that didn’t care so much about his appearance… so close to how he’d seen the jock in the Upside Down, only this time he wasn’t covered in blood and wearing Eddie’s battle vest. No, unfortunately Steve was not. 

 “So, whose clothes did you steal this time, Steve?” Eddie drawled, the pit that had formed in his stomach minutes before eased when Steve’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. 

 “Huh, what? No,” Steve spluttered, looking at Robin with wide eyes. 

 The girl shrugged and leaned forward to wipe a spot on the front of his jeans. Eddie almost felt jealous, but then remembered that very important detail he knew about Robin. 

 “They’re mine. And he got Pringle dust all over the pants,” Robin whined, trying her best to wipe away the chip remnants. Steve once again pushed her hands away with his own, an embarrassed smile plastered on his face. 

 “Robin’s?! How in the world did you fit into those jeans?” Eddie asked incredulously, leaning to the side to check Steve out openly. Mentally fist bumped himself by the squeamish look that crossed over Steve’s features.

 Like clockwork, Gareth poked his head out of the door, brows scrunched in confusion, and then smiling when he saw Eddie outside. 

 “Eddie, hey man, we’re uh—” The drummer’s eyes widened when they landed on the eclectic group of normal people he knew from high school, “We’re, ready to set up.” 

 “I’ll be down in a second,” Eddie explained, his friend nodding and taking one last look at Eddie’s 3 other friends before disappearing back into the Hide Out. 

 “Well,” He clapped, palms sweating and that pit hardened uncomfortably, “I’ve gotta get back in there. Don’t be nervous and they don’t check IDs.” 

 And with those words left standing for them, Eddie all but threw himself back into the venue. Holy shit, this was really happening, he was about to make a goddamn fool of himself on this tiny stage in Hawkins Indiana and there was no damn way he could back out now. 

X

 While Jeff, Gareth, and Tristan tested their own instruments, Eddie fumbled his way through the scribbled lyrics of the song he’d chosen. It was a song aggressively removed from what the band usually played, Corroded Coffin’s sound verged on black metal the more the band wrote and discussed where they wanted to go. He was the most nervous that people would be upset by the sudden change up, luckily it was the last song though. 

 “Alright, you guys just about ready?” A buff man wearing a black battle vest with patches sewn in all over it asked, his hair slicked back with so much gel that it glistened off in the bar's darkened belly. His name was Diablo, and he was the one who let them do their first show here, and stood by him when he came back after the murder accusations and still let him play. Eddie’s expression hardened, and he nodded, his friends throwing up a few distracted sign of the horns.

 “Great,” The man grunted as he stepped up to the mic, waving at them to get sorted (and seated in Gareth’s case). 

 Eddie shuffled foot to foot in uneasiness, watching Diablo introduce himself to the patrons, the music cutting and an excited hum hovering in the crowd. 

 “Now, you know the rules, moshing is fun but if you bleed, you’re out,” Diablo declared, a beefed up hand held out pointing to some poor schmuck in the crowd. 

 Eddie’s eyes scanned the back in search of his friends but was out of luck, the spotlight obscuring his sight. 

 “This is a band I’d like to continue supporting. So, any assholes can shut the fuck up and sit down, you’re in my bar and I’ll put on whoever I damn please,” Diablo looked out into the audience with a fierce look, “And, without further ado, Corroded Coffin.” 

 There was awkward applause Eddie could only assume was from Robin or Nancy. Jon knew the way around a dingy bar show and Steve was too uncomfortable all the time to make a mistake that big. 

 “Good luck, kid,” Diablo whispered in his ear while he passed him on the stage, one of those enormous paws landed heavily on his shoulder. 

 “Thanks, man,” Eddie shot back, shouldering his guitar and stomping up to the mic. He gulped down any fear that had crept up from the tar ball of anxiety that sat heavy in his stomach; if he could face off a cauldron of Demobats and also sacrifice himself to those tiny, gnashing mouths, he could perform in front of fucking Steve Harrington. 

 “The devil… has come to Hawkins,” He spoke deep into the mic, voice reverberating through the floor and seeping into the crowd. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for Gareth to start. 

 Adrenaline pumped through Eddie’s veins after the first two songs. The mosh pit came to a slow stop, some people still shoving and moving in jerking moves. Sweat dripped down his arms and made the leather sleeves of his jacket rub against the hair there. Right before their last song, he made a timeout signal with his hands. Eddie’s guitar made a whiny twang as he pulled her off his shoulders so he could shuck off the jacket. Some women hollered when his Iron Maiden crop top was revealed, it sat just shy of exposing his entire chest and his treasure trail was on full display. His low-rise black pants hugged his hips in such a way, a small glint of hope sat in his heart that a certain someone would notice. 

 “Heads up guys, this next song is a cover. Please give us the benefit of the doubt, though. Sometimes we just need to let these feelings out, y’know,” Eddie mumbled into the mic, eyes cast down into the sea of people who all stared up at him expectantly. 

 Inhaling a deep breath, Eddie slung his guitar back over his neck and wailed on her, to rile up the crowd once more. He grinned as the mosher's pushed back and forth again. After a few more screams from his guitar, he transitioned into the first chords of the song. 

 Gareth smashed the drums, which was Eddie’s cue, so he let his voice growl into the mic; 

‘You got me runnin' baby

You give me somethin' way beyond revenue,’

 The mosher's stopped but still stayed, enjoying Eddie’s vocals and the bands' more intense take of the Billy Squier song. Some women pushed their way up to the front of the stage, he played into it. Leaning forward so his curls hung around his neck, chains clinking against the mic as he played up the flirtatious act. 

 Goosebumps flushed up his arms when he saw the flash of Robin’s pixie face off to his right. Stomping his foot on top of the amp next to him, he turned his body toward where Steve had moved to. Robin was pressed to the man’s side and both of them stared at him with glassy eyes. 

 Eddie winked down at the two of them and moved his head in a snake-like motion, a wicked grin slipped onto his lips; 

‘When you come 'round I never get down, I fly across the floor

I can see you comin' on me and I can't ask for more,’

In quick succession, Eddie jumped down from the stage and let the audience part as he sauntered over to Robin and played it up in her face; 

‘You got my motor racin', I find my thoughts embracin' your every move,’

He broke the song briefly to chuckle low as Robin blushed furiously, Steve pointing and laughing at her. That didn’t last long though, Eddie fixed Steve with a pout before he licked his lips and all but growled the next couple of lines right in Steve’s face; 

‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you for so long, a nd I don't wanna lose you

You're my kinda lover,’

 Eddie swiveled away and missed Steve’s reaction, not wanting to spend too much time with his attention on the jock. Someone could notice the context clues before they were in a safe space, and a hate crime would be a shitty way to end his night. He hopped back onto the stage and made passing eye contact with Gareth, he just raised a curious brow at him and shook his fluffy head. 

 As he sang the rest of the song, he pounded his fist against the ground, amping up the dramatics as he repeated the lyrics, ‘my kinda lover’ . On the last one, he sat back on his feet, thighs on display for God and head thrown back in a very sinful portrait he hoped, sweat dripped down his back and onto the stage. The song came to a close, and he sat still in that position, chest heaving and eyes closed. 

 There was a beat of silence and then an uproar of applause, people shouted again and other slurries of words he couldn’t understand. But Eddie got the message, he nodded at Gareth who understood the message, starting up a heavy song they’d written the summer of ‘86. 

 Tristan and Jeff followed suit once they realized which song it was, hammering it out for the wanting crowd. The mosh pit started again, and that time around, Steve stayed off on the outskirts, but closer to the stage. Eyes wide with something Eddie couldn’t read, and damn, he wanted to know. Wanted to lose himself in the sea of hazel eyes and flirtatious teasing, allow Steve to take him however he wanted. 

 Corroded Coffin’s set closed out, Eddie never minded playing first, it always meant he could enjoy the music afterward. In quick succession, they lugged all their equipment off so the next band could start setting up. 

 All he wanted to do once his guitar was locked up in the back of his van was find Steve, but he knew that would be too obvious, so instead he followed his bandmates to the bar where Diablo poured them two shots of vodka each, on the house the bartender had said with a massive grin plastered on his sweaty face. 

 The vodka hit Eddie’s empty stomach, making him feel woozy as it burned away at the pit of nerves that had been sitting there all week. 

 “Eddie!” Robin’s ecstatic voice yelled out over the buzzing crowd, he turned to meet her with open arms and a hazy grin. 

 “Robbie, be honest, was it as good as last time!?” He asked, trying to keep his gaze on hers as he noticed Steve following closely on the girl’s heel. 

 “Amazing, as always!” Robin gushed, pulling away and waving a small hello to the rest of the band. 

 Steve was carrying a full pint, eyes reflecting the lights almost like they were shining like a beacon for Eddie, but he had a huge smile plastered on his lips. Eddie sidled up to him and threw a casual arm around his neck. He ignored the stiff response of Steve’s shoulders.

 “Well, Harrington, what d'ya think?” Eddie drawled, lips brushing the outside of Steve’s flushed warm ear. 

 Steve coughed lightly, like there was a twig caught in his throat, facial expression hidden in the dark, “It, it was great!” 

 “Huh, cat got your tongue, Harrington?” The post performance adrenaline and a small amount of liquid courage fueled Eddie as he pushed his way into Steve’s space, looking at him through his eyelashes. 

 Something curious happened visible to Steve, and Eddie’s heart skipped a beat as the jock returned the grin with his signature look down, a chuckle and then flickering his wide hazel eyes back up to meet Eddie’s, the hand not occupied with his beer landing on his cocked hip, those damn jeans hugged his waist in a tight embrace and it made Eddie’s throat dry up like a desert. 

 “No, just maybe curious about who the lucky lady you were singing about is,” Steve explained, but something told Eddie that the plan he and Max concocted had worked. 

 “You don’t know her,” Eddie supplied, leaning back against the bar casually, not breaking eye contact with Steve. 

 “Is she here tonight?” Nancy asked, surprising Eddie out of his tunnel vision and reminding him he was, in fact, flirting with Steve openly in front of all their friends. 

 “She is,” Eddie nodded, eyes still locked with Steve’s, trying to read him as he straightened his spine, which made him appear just half an inch taller than Eddie. 

 Steve broke their tethered staring contest, eyes scanning the people meandering and trying to find some imaginary girl Eddie had made up, the jock pointed secretly at a girl with long teased curls and her torso pale shining out against her all black getup, “Is it her?” 

 Mentally, Eddie slapped his forehead, forgetting that Steve was oblivious and just because they were flirting doesn’t mean he’s aware of it and Eddie probably still had to push him off the edge. Images of how he could convey to this man that he was the one the song was about made his brain ache. 

 “Nope! Well, I’m going out for a smoke,” Eddie clapped. Turning around and signaling to Diablo he’d like another shot, if he was going to make any insinuation, he needed a bit more bravery that wasn’t conjured from his adrenaline, from past shows he knew it wouldn’t last very long. 

 Pouring the shot back, he felt Steve watching him closely, just the thought that Steve was checking him out gave him goosebumps. He shook his curly head as the awful liquid slipped down his throat, leaving the awful burn it always did. Turning and clapping Gareth on the shoulder, the younger man gave him a knowing look and eyes flickering briefly to Steve with a grin on his mischievous face. 

 Eddie pursed his lips and tried to telekinetically explain not to fuck with the fine bridge he was building, and that he would explain later. However, it was hard to convey in one measly glance. 

 Sauntering away from his friends and letting his exposed bicep brush Steve on his way out. The area on his bicep burned from the one faint touch. Once he knew he wasn’t in eye sight, he took the stairs two at a time, mouth open in a silent scream. Fuck, he was horrible at this.

 Outside was cool, a small Spring breeze passed over his bare skin and dried out his sweat. It was refreshing, and cleared his frazzled mind. Igniting the cigarette he took out of his pocket, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs and throwing his head back to gaze longingly up at the stars. There was a crowd of other people all smoking, chatting amongst themselves, laughing and some rough housing from the mosh pit still, but he knew they’d all retreat inside soon because the next band was about to play. Throwing a smile their way and then retreating around the corner, not wanting any of them to come over and talk with him. 

 He was pathetic, just a love sick guy who couldn’t have what he wanted. It would always be like this probably, he’d grow old and live with a bunch of cats, never having left he and Uncle Wayne’s trailer and—His self deprecating thoughts of loneliness of being gay in a small hick town were interrupted by the scuff of sneakers on the cement behind him.

 “Mind sharing that?” Steve’s voice filled the steady hum of a vent that was keeping Eddie company. The scene reminded him of when that other guy from earlier had asked to share and Eddie had all but ignored him, this however was Steve. This was who he'd been waiting for. That's all they needed, a cigarette, cheapest date he'd ever been on he thought. 

 “Sure, Harrington,” Eddie grinned, passing off the cigarette so Steve could take it with his outstretched hand. Eddie leaned back, shivering when his bare skin pressed against the brick wall. He eyed Steve warily, watching the way his pink lips wrapped around the orange end of the filter, the smoke creeping out of the corners of his mouth before he exhaled it into the night sky. 

 “Is she scary?” Steve asked, leaning in close to Eddie as he dragged a couple more puffs from the cigarette. Eddie’s brows scrunched, what was he talking about? Oh, the imaginary girl he’d told the crew about. 

 “Yeah, she’s scary all right,” Eddie grinned, heart pounding in his chest smacking his forehead over and over, wishing that this was going to be easier. Hoping that his heart wouldn’t have to be broken in order to confess his feelings. 

 “It’s a shame really,” Steve whispered, neck extended and eyes searching the night for something. The day that Eddie found answers on Steve’s face when he stared at him longingly would be an exuberant and profound day. 

 “What’s a shame?” Eddie smirked, crossing his arms and obscuring the image of the album Master of Puppets. He watched Steve’s Adam's apple bob as the man swallowed nervously, his hand around a loose thread on the Boston shirt Robin had hastily cut for him. 

 Steve scratched the back of his head, suddenly all of the jock's confidence drained from his aura and he was left to suspiciously peek over his shoulder as if to make sure they had some privacy. Eddie breathed heavily, his heart sped up and hammered away uncomfortably against his ribcage. 

 “I was… just hoping, well,” Steve stuttered, voice dropping to a whisper, “That I wasn’t reading into things wrong?”

 “You’re going to have to spell whatever you’re talking out for me, big boy,” Eddie breathed, was this it, was this the moment he’d only dreamed of? 

 “Maybe you were singing about…” Steve dropped his head down and chuckled low and self-deprecatingly, “Well, about me.”

 Stuttering heart beats faded to nothing as his heart skipped a beat. The big confession, Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink and if it wasn’t springtime, Eddie was sure the man would’ve been sweating profusely. And after all of his chaotic thoughts over the last couple of weeks the only sound that he made was a devilish chuckle. 

 “Damn, Mayfield was right,” He said, fixing Steve with an emotional stare. 

 Those perfect brows scrunched in confusion and Eddie wanted to kiss the look right off of Steve’s face, “Max? What?” 

 “She may have, uh… helped me plan this,” Eddie trailed off, wringing out his fingers and tapping his boot on the concrete. 

 “You, wait what?!” Steve blurted out, a goofy smile spread onto his plush lips. Eddie's heart fluttered, opening his mouth to respond and being so rudely interrupted by the sound of mocking bird, none other than Robin Buckley

 “Steve! We’re… uh, heading out! Nance has to work early tomorrow morning!” Robin was clearly tipsy as she hollered behind them. Steve swirled around and stuttered out incomprehensible words. 

 Eddie ducked his head, feeling the great sorrow of having to wait even longer, but if he’d been able to stick around for this long, one more night would not hurt him. 

“Hold on,” Steve growled out, jogging over to where his friends were standing and waiting for him. Eddie waved at the group, squashing his long forgotten cigarette under his shoe. Robin’s grin was wicked, mouthing something at him that he couldn’t understand. 

 Scrunching his face at her, he raised his hands in question and shook his head, trying to explain he did not know what she was trying to convey. The girl rolled her eyes and waved, calling out a goodbye to him. 

 Steve’s side profile was illuminated by a streetlamp above, the orange light really worked for him, especially with the crop top and sweater tied around his scarred hips. He talked to Robin, hands waving around as he tried to weasel his way into staying, Eddie assumed. While the metalhead took his time admiring Steve, he jumped when the man was back standing in front of him, his large warm hands resting on his shoulders and pulling Eddie into a hug. 

 “Wait for me?” Steve whispered, a shiver ran down Eddie’s spine at his words and all he could do in response was nod. 

 And with that, Steve jogged back over to Nancy and the others, turning around as they walked away to wave at him until the group was no longer in sight. Once he truly knew they weren’t coming back, Eddie rolled against the wall and knocked his forehead against the hard brick. 

 “Stupid, I am so stupid.” He muttered into the night, Steve once again leaving him in the dust to wallow in a deep pool of anxiety. 

[notathrowawayname]

Vikings and Short-stacks

So a friend of mine began reading Vinland Saga. I'm an anime only and recently finished season 2, so they quite quickly got past where I'm up to and we talked about it, which led me to figure out why I'm not a big fan of Vinland Saga.

For clarity, I'm not saying I don't like it. I think it does a lot of things well. In particular, I really liked the dynamic between Askeladd and Thorfinn, and the time it takes to really flesh out Ketil for the "there's no such thing as a good/kind slave owner" moment. But all the things I liked just made me more confused why I didn't like it as much as I've seen other people like it. Like, another friend of mine thought it's one of the best stories ever and I just, don't feel like it's anywhere close.

Now I've been part of the weeb community long enough to know that calling any manga or anime someone likes anything less than a masterpiece is asking for a fight. So I'll preface this by saying everything that follows is my own personal opinion:

The conclusion I came to was that Vinland Saga seems to have no narratively distinct style.

The way you tell a story matters just as much as the story you're telling. If I use Last of Us 2 as an example (a game I really enjoyed), I felt like the only thing I would change is the order in which you play Abby and Ellie. If you played as Abby first, you'd only find out why Ellie was hunting her in the middle of the game, which I think would have been a great "oh shit" moment. (obviously it makes sense why they didn't do this. Abby is more aggressive and combat focused than Ellie's survival and stealth style, meaning gameplay gets more intense later in the game, and people probably wouldn't be happy that you couldn't play as either character from the first game until halfway through the game). What information you give the audience and when you give it is important for how they understand the plot, setting and characters, which in turn effects their investment and interest. To paraphrase Idiocracy, it's important to know who's arse it is, and why it's farting.

So writers do a bunch of things like various POVs, timeskips, flashbacks, and just general dialog to keep you engaged and informed. That way you can keep the pace of the story going, whilst still getting the audience to care about these characters and the situations they're in. Shounen does a lot of things that I can't really enjoy anymore (having seen them done to death), but it does this particularly well. Like how in Demon Slayer it weaves the backstory of the Demons into each fight so you don't have to pause any of the balls to the wall action, or how Dr Stone does flashbacks to Senku's dad or him making stuff to save time.

Vinland Saga doesn't do a lot of this at all. It shows a flashback about Thorfinn's dad's past and some setting stuff through Canute, but doesn't focus on those characters at all for anything other than adding to the current reason why Thorfinn's having a bad time. Most of the story follows Thorfinn's POV in pure chronological order, and it does so for a gruelling 48 episodes, approximately 16 hours of content (if you skip OPs and EDs, which you shouldn't, because Vinland Saga has some good ones, like Aimer's Torches).

Because of this chronological order, we basically have Thorfinn in angry revenge mode for 20 odd episodes, and hollow shell of a person for another 12 or so. And from a narrative perspective, both Empty Shell and Edgy McEdgeface are archetypes that can definitely work and can be explored interestingly (as examples, for empty shell there's characters like Anthy from Utena, Shin from 86, and arguably Shinji from NGE; for edgelords there's Guts from Beserk, Emiya Kiritsugu (not Shirou) from Fate/Zero, and Eren from AoT, etc). But the story doesn't explore Thorfinn as a character until like, the episode when he remembers Vinland exists? He's the protagonist and he barely has a personality for 12 hours. Stories like that live and die by the strength of the supporting cast (like Askeladd and Einar) and the intrigue about the world and plot. But the characters, while having some depth, don't have a lot? And they keep getting killed off (RIP Arnheid).

There's an old adage that you should start a story in the middle, because most of the setup and build up is pretty boring for the audience. After 48 episodes, I finally feel like we're at the beginning of Thorfinn's actual story, and tbh, there's not enough to keep me engaged.

TL;DR: Thorfinn's story is told in such an exhaustingly chronological way that I can't stay engaged

Or maybe I just don't like slowburn idk

[heybatterbats]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Thank you so much! Wow, my first ask!! 😁😁😁

1. Fandom makes me happy! I’m already loving running a fandom blog, it’s so much fun! I spent the first day sending slightly panicked asks to the biggest blogs I could think of, asking how the heck do I do this. I spent the second day following every blog I could find. My dashboard is hopping with content now, and I love it so much!

2. The Batfamily makes me happy! I do write for other fandoms, sometimes- I have an X-men/Avengers fic I’m working on. But the Batfamily, and DC in general, just took hold of my heart. I love the characters and all the dynamics you can play with. I love that it ranges from soft, goofy slice-of-life to dark, edgy pieces that kick you in the teeth and make you think, to everything in between. I love this fandom!

3. Writing makes me happy! I’ve already posted two out of thirteen parts to my 2023 spooky fic, and I’m having a ball! I have so much fun writing my various stories, playing around with my word choices, style choices, tenses and POVs…and seeing everyone’s reactions is probably my favorite part. I had someone on my darkest fic tell me that the new chapter made them want to gouge their eyes out with a spoon, and that’s one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received!

4. Performing makes me happy! I’m an actor/dancer- I’m currently in rehearsals for The Nutcracker and a short play with my college. I’m in love with the stage and hope to make it a career one day! I dance every day right now, and act once a week, and it’s so much fun seeing all my studio/theater friends so often. And I love making the audience laugh! One of my Nutcracker roles- lead Polichinelle- is a comic one, I get to mess up the whole scene on purpose and then finish with a big slide into a pose like I’m just so proud of myself for getting absolutely everything wrong. I just love it, and I know the audience is going to be laughing their heads off when we perform it, and I’m going to be the happiest I’ve ever been!

5. My cat makes me happy! I have a cat called Marmalade- he’s big, orange, fluffy, and dumb as a box of rocks. He likes to bite my knees. He ripped a hole in my last pair of ballet tights because he climbed up my leg for treats. He crashes into stationary objects regularly. He thinks he can kill the water in my sink. He wants to eat whatever I’m eating no matter what it is. He farts a lot. He screams in the wee hours of the morning. He’s my baby and I love him to bits.

Uhhh…well, only one person has reblogged from me as of right now, so I guess I’ll just do them and add the other nine as it happens?😅 Thanks so much for this, I had a lot of fun with it!

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Why don't POV characters fart? We have seen them shitting and peeing but farting is never mentioned wrt POV characters. George says that he doesn't cringe away from including sex because it's something real people do and that it's nothing to be ashamed of and should be portrayed in media. Why cant be the same hold true for farting. Everyone does it and what about our favourite characters. What are your thoughts on this complicated topic? Is fart erasure a problem we need to tackle in media? Please give us your precious opinions on this topic.

Do I detect a hint of sarcasm about the value of my opinions?

I see this is the price I must pay for my hubris.

Before I can answer your question about why POV characters don’t fart, we should mention when characters do fart to see if there’s any common theme that could give us a clue as to why certain others don’t:

Fortunately, asearchoficeandfire.com has given us 16 instances of the word “fart” and its variations used in the series from 1996-2011. I’ve come up with two relevant observations:

Some characters are noted to be particularly flatulent: Septon Sefton and Wendell Webber (The Sworn Sword) and Garth Tyrell (A Feast for Crows). We only see this in action in the Septon’s case, where Lucas Inchfield threatens Dunk with death, the septon asks he plea for mercy, and the tension is broken by his farting (more on how farting is synonymous with a particular tone in the second point). Wendell Webber’s constant farting is meant to make him look uglier and less worthy of being Lord of Coldmoat; he’s “grasping and stupid” “a short man with a goiter on his neck”, but also nonthreatening (if he wasn’t male and married to Lord Rowan’s sister, he wouldn’t be a threat to Rohanne’s claim at all). Garth Tyrell’s flatulence is brought up by his goodsister Olenna as a dig at Cersei (it’s compared to how badly Tywin smells at his funeral), and as to why he wouldn’t be a good Master of Coin. Then there’s Baelor Hightower, whose infamous fart led to Oberyn Martell dubbing him “Baelor Breakwind”, causing his sister Elia (previously halfway in love with him) to be unable to look at him without laughing. We can infer that farting/tendency toward flatulence is GRRM’s signifier that a man (and it’s always a man; no woman, no matter how disgusting GRRM wants to depict her, ever farts) is older, smelly, not exactly competent, unhandsome…in a phrase, “gross and undesirable, but in a comical way”.

Farting is used 5 times in the phrase “to care a mummer’s fart”, aka to care very little (in English, similar to not giving a shit, a rat’s ass, a fig, an iota, a sou, etc). Words are wind, and farting is breaking wind. But why are mummer’s farts singled out as particularly worthless? The answer may be in Sansa’s 4th ASOS chapter: “Musicians strolled among the tables, piping and fluting and fiddling, while Ser Dontos galloped about on his broomstick horse and Moon Boy made farting sounds with his cheeks and sang rude songs about the guests.” Yes, Moon Boy is a fool rather than a mummer, but I think the point is the same. This is the only time anyone purposely breaks wind (or mimics the sound) and it’s for entertainment. But there’s nothing particularly clever about making fart sounds; the most it achieves is some cheap laughter and disgust. It’s the quickest, easiest way of entertaining a few people, and that’s why it’s particularly empty when coming from someone whose job is entertainment.

I think from these mentions we can come up with a theory as to why POV characters don’t fart. Farting marks the man who does it as unintelligent, unhygienic, less than competent, cowardly, and ugly. GRRM wants most of his POV characters to not be seen this way (as for the female POVs, it’s probably because he sexualizes them and fortunately doesn’t find farting attractive); some of the characters where he does (Chett and Merrett Frey), he has piss themselves out of fear. GRRM also uses farting to set a lowbrow comedic tone and break tension, which is only appropriate under certain circumstances. He does take many opportunities to make shit jokes (istumpysk theorizes this is because he is secretly 10. I had thought that due to his breast fixation he was at least 14, but by his own admission he isn’t great at making characters act their age), but usually they are more subtle (Dany’s trip through the House of the Undying, the bird guano on the statues of Baelor/Titan/Daeron I/dragonstone wyverns. The endless jokes about Tywin’s corpse are less so) and have a deeper point (usually that the person/idea they represent is full of shit), but fart jokes are less subtle and varied.

Which brings me to your last question: “Is fart erasure a problem that needs to be tackled in media?” Farting is actually a staple of Toilet Humor, a branch of Gross Out Humor. You’d be hard-pressed to find a stoner/gross-out/sex comedy film that doesn’t have at least one fart joke; it’s not uncommon in kid’s animated films/TV either (though the smarter films put a spin on it, such as Finding Nemo and the scene with the pelicans). Many of these comedies are deemed unfunny, mindless entertainment because it often doesn’t take clever writing to come up with most of these jokes. But that’s also getting into why farting doesn’t happen often in ASOIAF; it’s a staple of lowbrow comedy, not “serious” drama that ASOIAF (especially the later books) desperately wants to be. I suppose GRRM isn’t breaking the mold with his depiction of farting, but he’s less subversive than many people claim he is.

Note: to any users whose messages are gathering digital dust in my inbox and have just had the misfortune of reading this meta, I hope this at least gives you assurance that I will eventually write you a thorough reply. Just as long as I can think of something interesting to say. And maybe make a few terrible jokes.

[sapphire-widow]

J'onn J'onzz x adopted daughter reader (part 1)

Third person pov

It was karaoke night at the Danvers', when they all heard a loud noise. A spaceship came crashing down in the middle of National City. Kara, J'onn, and Mon El all looked at each other and went towards the crash sight.

(Y/n)'s pov

Flashback

Me and my brother were sitting in our living space. Our parents are no longer in the picture due to the white martians. We were in our green martian forms, because we were more comfortable in that form. We sat there with a small fire keeping us warm. I thought I would turn into my human form. The red glow light formed around my body as my (h/l) (h/c) came, my green skin turned (s/c), my dark eyes turned (e/c). I looked over at my brother, who sat across from me on the other side of  the fire. He was in his human form. My brothers hair was brown, bang swept to the side, eyes were brown, and skin lightly tinted.

It was night time, but the night was always the worst here on Mars. The white martians are always awake at night. The screams never end. 

Some time went by when we heard sounds coming from outside. In a split second, we knew it was the white martians. I looked at my brother and he looked at me. When I looked into my brother's eyes, I saw something I hadn't seen since our parents sacrificed their lives for me and my brother. He took my hand and went to the basement area. My brother knew  something was down there.

He took a blanket off of what looked like a pod.

"Get in. It will take you to earth. You will be safe there." My brother said in martian.

"What about you?"I ask my brother in english.

"I'll be fine, (y/n), I'll be okay," he responded back in english. Just then we heard the white martians break in. I got in the pod, while my brother set it to head towards earth. 

As the pod was leaving, the last thing I saw was my brother getting impaled by a white martians. I screamed in agony, pain, and deep sadness. My brother was all I had left and the white martians took that away from me. 

I am the last green martian of mars.......

End of flashback

My pod had just crash landed on a planet that I'm guessing is earth. I heard three people talking outside of my pod. Out of fear I went into my martian form. Just then my pod got opened and I saw a woman with long blond hair. She looked at me then turned to someone that was behind her. The woman seemed to have whispered to what looks like a man. The man came into the light. Instead of seeing a man, I saw a green martian.

I thought the white martians were playing tricks on me, so I hid within the pod, not daring to trust the being. As I least expect, the green martian showed his human form, showing that he can be trusted. 

"My name is J'onn J'onzz. What is yours, ittle ne?"

"(y/n) (l/n)" I said in a quiet voice, too scared of being killed.

"Don't worry I'm going to take care of you. You are safe here on earth."

"I can trust you?"

"Yes, you can. I am going to take you to a place where you are going to get checked. To see if you're okay, I mean." The green martian said. And all I could do was nod as he picked me up and flew me to an unknown place.

As he flew me, I saw the woman from earlier and another man. They followed us to the unknown place. And I knew from here on out I'm going to be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The little glossary

ittle ne: little one

Author's note: Thank you all for reading. I came up with this hoping you all will enjoy it. Please keep a look out for part 2, cause you all know you like it. You all can deny it all you want, but I know you enjoy this.

And who ever just farted, please keep that stuff to yourself.

With all the love I have (since I'm as single as a pringle),

Raven The Sapphire Widow

[thedomesticatednerd]

Headaches, bad jokes, and cute siblings.

A little Tech whump for late Tech Tuesday. Also you get him and Omega being cute and telling bad jokes. Hunter is there too.

Warning: Light mentions of drug use.

                                       .:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After three days and two missions for Cid, Hunter couldn’t take it anymore. He had been watching Tech and his brother was off, even though he’d assured Hunter he was fine. But Hunter knew something was wrong, his enhanced senses told him something was wrong. Tech was tense, his movements was stiff and short, he kept his eyes down, but the most telling was his scent.

Tech’s scent changed, he still smelled like himself only it was laced with neuropeptides, Tech was in pain. He decided that enough was enough.

They were in hyperspace when Hunter confronted Tech. His little brother looked worn thin, he had his goggles off and was rubbing his eyes when Hunter entered the cockpit.

“Tech, we need to talk,” Hunter watched Tech flinch. “You’re going to tell me the truth.”

Tech hummed an answer and fixed his goggles lazily. Hunter stepped closer to him and crouched down. “What’s wrong?” Hunter asked softly now.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” rested his head in his hands. “I have had a headache for three days.”

Hunter sighed. “You’re my brother, Tech, you’re not a burden. Have you taken anything?”

Tech looked at Hunter, the look said do you think I’m an idiot?

“Right,” Hunter smirked but frowned. “When was the last time you slept?”

Tech shook his head slowly. “I do not wish to answer that question.”

Hunter stood up. “Let’s go.”

Tech didn’t argue with him, either because he knew it was futile or he was just that worn out by his headache. Hunter led him to the ship’s berthing and pulled back the blanket on Tech’s rack. Tech began fumbling with his armor to get it off, seeing his little brother struggling with such a simple task, Hunter immediately began to help him and took over. Once his armor was off Hunter pushed him down to his rack and pulled the blanket over Tech’s shoulders once the younger clone laid down.

Hunter pulled Tech’s goggles off and put them under his pillow. He sat next to Tech and started threading his fingers through his baby brother’s light brown hair. Tech sighed and closed his eyes, probably remembering times when Hunter use to comfort him after a particularly bad simulation or nightmare of his eye surgery.

Hunter waited until Tech was asleep before moving. He stood up and turned towards the gunnar’s nest after feeling eyes watching him ever since he sat down next to Tech. Omega was peeking around the curtain, he gave her a smile and she started climbing down.

When she got to Hunter Tech jerked, they both stilled, after a couple of seconds Tech let out what sounded like a mournful moan. Omega looked up at Hunter with wide worried eyes.

“He’s ok,” Hunter whispered as jerked his head towards the cockpit. He closed the door behind them and she took a seat in the pilot’s chair. “He’s does that when he’s exhausted.” Hunter told her as he sat down.

“So he’s alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, he has a headache and he hasn’t slept in a while, but he’s alright,”  Hunter smiled but it was half hearted. “He probably won’t sleep long. He went through a lot when he was young, it left him with a lot of anxiety.” Hunter wasn’t sure how much he should say, he didn’t want to burden his little sister.

She nodded, as if she understood clearly what Tech went through. After a few minutes she yawned.

“You should go back to bed,” Hunter told her.

Omega slid off the seat. “Ok,” she didn’t protest as usual, instead she left the cockpit, closing the door behind her.

After an hour, Hunter went to check on Tech. His youngest brother would be waking and he was going to try to get him to go back to sleep. He exited the cockpit and made his way down to the berthing. To Hunter’s surprise, Tech was not alone in his rack.

Omega lay on her back sound asleep. And Tech, his gentle nerdy little brother had his head next to her’s with his arms wrapped around her. Hunter could hear Tech’s slow rhythmic heart beat, indicating he was asleep.

It warmed something in Hunter’s chest seeing them sleeping so soundly together. Whether Tech unconsciously held Omega or he knowingly did it, it was an unexpected find since Tech struggled with emotions and rarely let anyone see him express any emotions at all. Hunter had suspected it had something to do with Tech’s personalized training.

There were many nights he sat with a young Tech that just stared off into an invisible distance, though Hunter could sense his distress. As Tech got older he became more and more emotionally distant. Though Hunter knew his baby brother loved them, he could thank his enhanced senses for that.

Hunter smiled down at them and pulled the blanket up a little higher around them. Tech sleeping for more than an hour or two at a time was a precious oddity. He wouldn’t dare disturb them, so he left them and went back to the cockpit to watch the stars stream by.

…..

Omega slipped through the door from the cockpit after Hunter suggested she go back to bed. She tiptoed pass Tech and climbed up to her makeshift room. Even though she was tired she couldn’t sleep. When she heard a frustrated sigh she concluded she wasn’t the only one.

Climbing down she made her way to Tech’s rack. He turned his head towards her and squinted his eyes, she almost wondered why he was making that face but realized he didn’t have his goggles on.

“Omega, are you alright?” He whispered.

She nodded. “I’m ok, I just can’t sleep.”

He frowned and blinked, she knew he was thinking but the he spoke slowly. “Do you wish to share my rack?”

She nodded. Tech scooted over as far as he could and lay on his side, and Omega climbed up and slipped under the cover. Tech was stiff beside her and it gave her an idea.

“Want to hear a joke?” She whispered.

“Ok,” he looked a bit intrigued.

“Why can’t you trust atoms?” Omega smiled, and Tech stayed silent. “Because they make up everything.” She grinned.

Tech snorted in amusement. “I have one.” He whispered.

She rolled over to face him.

“What do you call…” he paused, trying not to smile. “What do you call a teacher that won’t fart in class?”

Omega was smiling at him and shook her head and he finished. “A private tooter.”

They were both trying to stifle their laugher when Echo barked at them. “Quiet down you two!”

They composed themselves. “I didn’t know you knew any jokes.” Omega whispered.

“I have data files full of bad jokes,” Tech whispered back.

After a few minutes she spoke up again. “Does your head still hurt?”

He sighed. “Yes, however it is not as bad.”

“You should try to back to sleep,” Omega laid her right hand on his cheek gently, his skin was warm under her hand and it slightly worried her. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it, his face was tilted down so he was breathing on her face.

“Only if you do,” he whispered.

She smiled and rolled over on her back again and closed her eyes. After a few moments he shifted his arm under the pillow and wrapped his other one around her and pulled her close against him. She let out a surprised quiet giggle as she was pulled closer.

She listened to his breathing change as he fell asleep, and she could feel his heart beating against her shoulder. With the hum of the ship and Tech holding her she found it hard to keep her eyes open.

Soon she was drifting off to sleep beside her big sweet brother.

…..

He wondered how long he’d been asleep. Probably not long. He was never asleep for long.

If it wasn’t because they were in a situation that didn’t allow for long periods of rest then it was his anxiety that kept him from sleeping long periods at a time. Most of the time he’d just get up and find something to tinker with but right now his head was trying to burst open. He was surprised he could put together a coherent sentence when Omega appeared at his rack. He felt intrigued when she asked if he wanted to hear a joke, and even though his head hurt he recited a joke from his files.

Laughing definitely didn’t help his head, but it was worth it to hear her giggle and he felt strangely more at ease. He suddenly realized how much she meant to him and how he really didn’t mind her sharing his rack with him. The emotion wasn’t new, he’d felt this emotion towards his brothers, it was love. He loved her, he loved his little sister. He was glad they went back for her, she belonged with them.

For once he wasn’t the youngest member of the team anymore, he had someone that looked up to him now. It was a heavy realization, but one he didn’t mind.

After they fell quiet he found it becoming increasingly hard to stay awake and he also had an overwhelming need to keep her safe, even if they were on the Marauder. So he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Holding his little sister was doing something to his brain, his thoughts slowed down and a tightness in his chest, that he didn’t even realize was there, uncoiled and he felt lighter.

He’d only experienced this kind of release when he experimented with recreational drugs, he’d had a lot of explaining to do when Hunter found him, his experiment ended that day. Hunter had been worried about him for a long time after that, even after Tech reassured him multiple times he wasn’t trying to use drugs as a coping mechanism, he really was just curious and recording his findings.

But this was better than any kind of drug, recreational or prescribed. This alone was chasing away his headache. Who knew cuddling with his little sister would make him feel better and sleepy all at the same time.

Maybe he’d get more than a few minutes of sleep next to her.

He had a feeling he would.

                                      .:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

(A/N: in the scene when Tech is asleep and he jerks and moans was actually a  dream I had in Tech’s POV, in my dream Hunter reassured Omega just like he did in the scene. My body did a full out jerk and I rolled over and moaned, but I was still asleep(?) Also, the experience Tech is having with Omega when he feels sleepy and protective is actually the feeling I get with my daughter when she sleeps with me. Also laying with The Nerd Operator instantly puts me to sleep when we’re cuddling on the couch.)

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 19 “Quick Session” [Episode List]

Dave comes back from work and he’s late for a date with Dana. To make things worse, he can’t find a gift he bought for her anywhere. Tim helps… and Dave decides to thank him with a quick treat (or… threat?).

Want to feel like Tim? Click on the links in the story to hear the power of Dave's farts!

POV: Tim

Quick Session

I was doing some chores in the living room (I finished working earlier) when I heard Dave hastily open the front door and step inside the house. 

“Honey, I’m home.” he said, speed-walking through the room and heading directly upstairs.

“*sigh* We don’t talk like we used to.” I replied, faking a sad tone of voice.

Dave had a busy day at work and in fact he got home a bit later than usual. He has a date with Dana tonight so he’s in a rush. I soon heard noises coming from the bathroom upstairs, a sign that he was speed running through his pre-date preparations. Did he at least take his clothes off before stepping into the shower? The guy was going fast.

I was instead having a pretty normal day. I finished working early as I said, so I started doing some chores around the house, then I’ll get a pizza and fire up some Entflix for the night. Yep, don’t be too envious, dear reader, but that’s what living like a King feels like.

I made myself comfortable on our trusted couch and reached for my tablet, ready to enjoy the free time I earned today, but before I could aimlessly browse Entflix’s catalog, I heard Dave coming downstairs. He looked like he was panicking for some reason.

“Dude you ok?” I asked.

“I’m freaking out man.” he said. “I have to be at Dana’s place in like 30 minutes…”

Dana has been Dave’s girlfriend for years at this point, so clearly he wasn’t nervous about just seeing her. We still call them “dates” but when you’re this far in a relationship you’re just a couple hanging out.

“And?” I asked again, trying to understand why he was being so nervous.

“And I can’t find it, Tim!”

“What? Your dick?” I very maturely joked.

“The necklace, you dickhead!” Dave replied.

“I don’t think it’d look good on you to be honest.” 

“Can you be serious for one second?”

When Dave, of all people, tells me to be serious, maybe it’s time to listen.

“I bought a gift for Dana, it’s nothing, it’s not even her birthday, but it’s a necklace she talked about some months ago and so I finally got one.” Dave explained.

“Aw… you’re adorable.” I guess I really want my bro to punch me today.

He scoffed and just started rummaging through the room. “We have to find it.”

“Wait.” it’s actually not the first time he talked about this. “Isn’t it the same necklace that-“

“YES.” he cut me off. “It’s the one YOU reminded me to look for ‘cause I already couldn’t find it two weeks ago.” his was clearly annoyed. “So if you go ‘I told you so’ I’m gonna punch you.”

Here we are, readers. It’s gonna happen. “So violent.” I joked.

“You leave me no choice! I’d threaten you with my farts but it’s not even a threat in your case.” he joked back, finally a glimpse of a smile drawn on his face, a smirk of someone who knows he just landed a low blow.

“Let’s…” I said, trying not to stutter like an idiot. “Let’s just find the thing.”

Dave joking around my kink somehow pulled me back into the real world ‘cause I was just now noticing that my friend was wearing a pair of jeans and white sneakers, and quite tight white shirt. It’s not like Dave was super muscular or anything, but he did have a nice body figure, and the shirt helped. Average yet good-looking, which my eyes appreciated.

We (well… I) then fully focused on looking for this necklace. We split up and as quickly as possible searched the whole house (it wasn’t as big as it looks, fortunately). The more minutes passed, the more Dave seemed to get nervous. He also got a message on his phone, which didn’t help (hopefully not work-related). He wasn’t angry or anything but he wasn’t in a good mood that’s for sure, almost like he didn’t want to disappoint Dana -this is more about him than his girlfriend though, as he wanted to buy her something for months.

Rummaging through the things I just put in order kind of hurt, but thinking like a housewife actually helped! As we ended up back into the living room, I’ve had a lightbulb moment.

“Wait.” I said. “We are not looking for the necklace itself, right?”

Dave turned to me, still nervous. “No genius we’re looking for a-“

“A tiny blue box?” I cut him off this time, looking at him with the all smug aura I could muster.

My friend’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, as if I started flying in front of him. “Where is it?”

I was ready to have a long monologue about how the house was a mess and how me doing “those boring chores” saved his life today, but I didn’t want to gloat that much, so I just pointed at the small desk (at its drawer, actually) by the front door, explaining that I found the box earlier today without realising what it was, and how I put it inside said drawer.

When Dave opened the drawer and reached for it, he let out a loud sigh of relief, holding it as if it was The One Ring. He put both his hands on the small desk and stood there for almost 30 seconds, in silence. He then finally turned around, sporting his usual smile.

“Thanks bro.” he said. He was in a good mood again.

He (carefully) left the box on the desk and stepped back into the living room, and we both collapsed on the couch.

“That was close” he turned to me, casually touching my shoulder. “Thanks again.”

“Now, I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’, but-“

But nothing. It was Dave’s turn again to cut me off, the way he does best. Spreading his jeans-clad legs, he simply ripped a loud, relatively short fart. Despite being ripped directly on the couch, the sound was actually quite clear.

He just stared at me, waiting for my awkward reaction, sporting a silly smirk on his face, his classic “I’m gonna tease you now” smirk. It was just a game for him, which I both hated and appreciated.

“Isn’t Dana waiting for you?” I said, my voice cracking only sixteen times.

“Actually.” he chuckled. “She texted me a few minutes ago. She’s gonna be late, we have time…”

“We…?” I asked, but I knew where this was heading… of course it was.

Dave laughed again and he adjusted his position on the couch, lying down, as if I wasn’t even there: he wrapped his long legs around me and pulled me down, as he showed off his jeans-clad ass in my direction, with my face ending up really close to it. A familiar view, yet I’ll never get used to it.

“So yeah I can threaten you a bit, but clearly I’m not gonna punch you… so guess what?”

He raised his legs just enough to fully showoff that denim ass in front of me, as if he wanted to make sure that my face was perfectly aligned to that. I could see my friend’s smirk while he narrowed his eyes as he started to push, one of those difficult “post-work farts” that sometimes are too big to be ripped all at once.

But for Dave, that was almost effortless: the fart was huge and loud, and I could feel the vibrations all over the couch and, well, my face. I tried to keep my eyes open as the ass roared in front of me, closely inspecting the seams and textures of Dave’s jeans, and even that small red tag on his right pocket. 

As I said, I’ll never get used to how lucky I am.

The fart lasted 11 seconds and the silence was only broken by Dave’s whistling in relief, well aware of how big that was. 

“Feeling threatened yet?” my bud joked.

If by “threatened” he meant “horny” then yes, absolutely.

“Maybe you should just punch me.” I replied.

Dave laughed and once again adjusted his position a bit, making sure that his denim ass was in front of me.

“Believe me, you’ll wish I was punching you after this one.” there, that smirk again. “Ready?” 

I was not, but it’s not like I had the time to think about it, as my face was once again blasted with a second, loud rip. I thought he was done, but his ass just wanted to me feel stupid -then again, he’s Dave, he’s *never* done.

This one was a bit shorter, around 9 seconds, but felt like ages. I backed just a bit to have a better view of that wall of jeans in front of me and my friend’s face who, as usual, was amused by me being still awkward (and, well, with my face literally in his ass). At this point he wasn’t holding me down with his legs anymore, but it’s not like he needed to.

“Hold on.” he suddenly said. He looked around, as if he was waiting for some kind of signal, said “signal” being sure that what he was brewing was yet another big one. He looked back at me, smirk drawn on his face. “I think I feel another one coming…” he almost whispered.

As he said that, he lied down on the couch even more, planting his ass on my face. The jeans’ seams and textures tickled my nose, the stench of the previous blasts burning my nostrils. But I felt it, I felt him pushing one more out, and he did deliver, as usual.

Yet another loud, long fart, up close and personal, even more than the previous ones. Almost made me deaf, the sudden thunder making my face shake. I swear at one point it sounded like a car engine going fast, really fast.

The longest fart for today, Dave saving the best for last as usual.

I guess this way his own way to thank for helping him… but I’m pretty sure he was gonna blast my face soon or later anyway. He knows I like, he know’s it’s gross, but he can’t help to find… me, hilarious. Disgustingly hilarious.

As the fart faded into silence, Dave adjusted his position again, this time setting me free as he sat down normally on the couch. I did the same, hoping he’d ignore my startled face… which he did, since he was checking his phone as if nothing happened.

“Fuck.” he said. “Dana texted me again. She’s waiting for me.” 

He quickly got up and ran towards the front door. I followed him, making sure my boner didn’t get in the way.

I tried to speak normally. “I thought she was late?”.

“She was, and then she texted me she wasn’t anymore, but I couldn’t hear my phone because apparently my farts are just too loud for both of us.” he explained, trying not to laugh like an idiot as he finished the sentence.

“Dave…” I simply said. I was ready to say my usual awkward “Thank you”, as I tried to hide my boner, but instead I went for the kill. “I told you so…”

My bro reaction was quick: he immediately punched me on my shoulder.

“Told ya I was gonna punch you.” he said, winking, as he stepped outside and closed the door behind me.

“You never said so!” gotta work on my comebacks.

For being a quick session, Dave sure took his time to rip some pretty long farts. I guess he really likes to threaten me.

End of Episode 19