#rich brian kids

[sophsun1]

Queer As Folk – 1.16: French Fried

[demontouched]

i really like that fantasy high isn't six* people entering brennan's world. it's seven people working to build and establish a world, and brennan was just the start. he had an idea, he shared it with friends, and said "join me, let's make this something beautiful together."

(*for the people who saw this before the typo fix, i'm sorry 😭 i didn't even realize. i'm very bad at typing.)

[magical-misfit]

Thinking about that one post that was like “Gerard wants to stay in the castle when war comes because he spent his formative years struggling to stay alive and survive and now he’s expected to do it again”

Like…yes you get it.

Gerard was ten.

And at ten years old he knew death better than others. He watched his first friend get eaten alive as part of the food chain at work, he nearly died at the teeth of a dog because he didn’t understand why it was weird for a talking frog to address a guard like a prince. A ten year old experienced near death for the first time and people still have the audacity to call him a coward.

He stayed in that pond for god knows how long (he states he’s thirty but we don’t know how long he and Elody have been married) and he waited for ages for someone to come find him, anyone really. That heron probably came by every day, same with the hunters and their dogs. How much death and injury did you think Gerard saw over those years in the pond? How much bravery and cleverness do you think he had to muster up in himself so as not to get eaten? No wonder he latched onto Elody and the castle life so quickly.

And when war comes at a time when he’s supposed to be free, a time when the curse has been broken and everything is fine, of course he flees. Of course he claims they can stay in their castle and be okay.

Because Gerard knows death. And he knows that if he leaves the castle again, he’s not sure he’ll make it back this time.

And he’s right. He doesn’t.

(At least that version of him anyway)

[vwritesaus]

literally no one asked but here's my spotify wrap 2022 bc why not ✨ can't say i'm surprised by any of it but.....

*looks at the defenders theme being played 620 times*

i can explain—

[blindbabybutterfly]

Blindbabybutterfly - Stoic (Official visualizer)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* The Wishing Hole (Yandere x GN!Reader)

Warning!! This is not a romance, read at your own risk CW: LONG, Dead Dove, abuse, murder, trauma, manipulation, masturbation, mutilation, unhealthy relationships, obsession

"Have you heard about the hole?"

Part I

"It's right over here!" Miranda theater-whispered to her friends as she led them through the black woods. Their flashlights bobbed in the darkness, the only light visible to the trio of twelve year olds as they trekked through the thicket. (Reader) gripped onto their envelope tightly, fearful of leaving sweat marks on it.

They had been staying the night at Brian's house when Miranda brought up the hole. A local urban legend by that point, the story of a hole that granted wishes. Brian had chastised Miranda for believing a story so stupid, but still followed her and (Reader) when they snuck out to grant their wishes.

"How do you know where it is?" He nervously hissed.

"Abby's sister Rebecca has a friend who found it. Over here." Miranda spoke as though it should have been obvious why she knew where it was.

(Reader) could do nothing but hope. They hoped hard, over and over again, wrinkling the papers in their fist as the yellow light led them to their future. All they could do was beg the universe to grant their wish. For the hole to be real.

The trees thinned and opened, revealing a small clearing with a very deep hole dug out of the earth. It was a normal looking hole, but in the dark of a moonless night to a group of children, it was ominous.

Their muddy boots all stopped a good foot away from the edge. The ground didn't look stable.

After taking a shaky breath, Miranda threw her envelope into the hole, squeezing her eyes shut as she focused all her energy on the wish written inside the letter she tossed. Brian thought about arguing, calling out his friends for littering, but instead copied Miranda, throwing his wish in as well. (Reader) felt adrenaline shoot to their finger tips as the anxiety tried to rip through their veins and escape their skin. Their packet was thicker than either of their friends', and fell harder as they chucked it in with all their strength.

The only future (Reader) wanted was nearly impossible. It would take divine intervention to get that happiness. "What did you wish for?" Miranda asked Brian behind (Reader).

"I want to know what I want to do."

"That's it?"

"What'd you wish for?"

"A hot boyfriend, who's gonna love me, and marry me."

"Well, when you're trapped in a marriage with three kids, I'll be doing what I love every day."

Miranda groaned loudly, refusing to get into another argument with her best friend. She instead looked at (Reader) who was still focusing on the hole. "What did you wish for, (Reader)?"

Their eyes seemed to be seeing something the other two couldn't see. Large pupils fixated on nothing, still filled with enough anxiety to cripple an adult.

"Someone who loves me.."

"Ugh, not you too.." Brian's voice melted into the background, almost unintelligible in the dense air. The contents of the wish filled (Reader's) head to the point that nothing else could be heard.

• 15 years later •

Another failed date.

Dark rings permanently decorated the underneath of (Reader's) tired eyes. The perpetually single adult slid down against the wall, too exhausted to continue standing. There was nothing particularly wrong with the guy, but he just wasn't "the one" for (Reader). He was boring and awkward, rambling about his job and future plans, bragging about his hypothetical future fortune. Nothing he did was bad enough for (Reader) to guiltlessly label him a douche, but nothing about him was their type.

They pulled out their phone, looking at the dark haired man on their wallpaper for a second too long before opening up their messages with their date. (Reader) typed up a quick message to thank Rich for the date, but that they didn't see it going any further.

The phone was tossed to the side as (Reader) struggled to stand, grabbing a beer from their fridge as the phone began chiming from the linoleum. Texts rapidly coming in were ignored by (Reader) as they cracked open their first drink for the night.

His unread messages echoed through (Reader's) shoebox apartment.

The weary adult wondered how their therapist would react next week at their appointment. It wasn't realistic for an adult to fixate on a wish they had made as a child, but just like all those years ago, (Reader) knew deep in their bones that there was no happiness for them if they couldn't have that wish come true. Rich was attractive, in an average sort of way, with straight brown hair cut a little too short for the shape of his brow. He had nice lips, (Reader) thought, but couldn't imagine kissing them.

The beer tasted like lightly bitter water. Not a promising sign; it tasted like they would need something stronger. On the way to the living room (Reader) noticed their bedroom door had some dirt on the white paint, like someone had pushed it open with filthy hands.

(Reader) felt an anxious jolt to their system. A familiar pain they hadn't felt in a long time. They pushed open the door, timidly entering their own room like a stranger nervous to be caught. But the room was empty.

"So, how'd your date with Rich go?" Adam asked hopefully. The same trio of friends since primary school sat in their local diner. It was a monthly ritual, gathering for brunch to force themselves to keep in touch. They tried to hold the meeting every week, but with work scheduling it was impossible. Adam sat with his husband, Jon, across from Brian and (Reader). Everyone had changed so much as they got older, but that was to be expected. No one can stay a child forever.

(Reader) sighed before sipping on their milkshake. Adam knew exactly what that meant, and groaned, just as dramatically as when he was a child. His hair may be shorter, but some things stayed consistent.

"What was wrong with this guy?"

"Nothing!" (Reader) replied defensively. "He just... wasn't my type."

Brian pushed up his glasses. "Maybe you should lower your standards."

"Brian!"

"-I mean, it's good to have standards, obviously, but people are real people, not characters in a book. No one is going to match your description of a perfect partner, because people aren't perfect, ya know?"

(Reader) stole a glance at their phone, admiring the black haired man behind the time. "You can say that, because your wish already came true. Both of yours."

Both Brian and Adam looked ashamed and a little uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact and fixating on their meals. Jon almost went cross-eyed trying to understand what (Reader) was implying.

(Reader) stood, tossing a couple bills onto the table. "I have to go, I'll talk to you guys later."

"Okay, have a good day! Text me when you get home." Adam said warmly, hugging his dear friend tightly while trying to shape his face into a happier expression.

"I will. Bye."

Brian gave up a small side hug, grimacing.

Jon waited until (Reader) was out of sight before asking "Were they talking about that wish you guys made as kids?"

The bespectacled young man rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"I know what Adam wished for, but what did you and (Reader) wish for?" When he mentioned Adam's wish, Adam rolled his eyes playfully and they nudged each other lightly. Their whole relationship was practically diabetic for Brian, who still after all these years didn't get the appeal in romance.

Brian adjusted his glasses again, clearing his throat. "I wanted to know what to do with my life." And he had found that calling. The summer before high school he discovered a YouTube channel centered around ornithology and sent him on a strange spiral of bird mania. His friends and family thought it was a temporary fixation that he would lose interest in after a year or so, but his newfound fascination guided him all the way through college, landing him in an animal husbandry profession taking care of cranes at (what Brian considered to be) a humane zoo. "(Reader) wished for someone to love them."

"Well, I believe there's someone for everyone. It takes some people longer to find 'the one' than it does for others, and (Reader) seems like a great person, so I'm sure they'll meet someone that fits their childhood ideal."

Although Jon meant well with his words he could see the discomfort on his husband's and Brian's faces, their eyes either focused on their drink or plate.

They never read (Reader's) wish.

But over the years the two friends had begun to piece together a picture of the kind of man (Reader) wanted.

It was a complete breach of trust, looking into a friend's past, going full internet stalker mode to investigate into the secrets (Reader) wouldn't divulge. And what they found...

Was a lot.

They didn't know how to open the conversation with their third musketeer, since the facts and speculations were all obtained without (Reader's) knowledge or permission, but if Brian and Adam were correct in their understanding of what (Reader's) wish was, they genuinely wanted to help (Reader).

They also knew where (Reader) was going. But even that was impossible to confess.

Because at that moment, (Reader) was in their car for their monthly four hour visit with the greatest man (Reader) had ever known. It was unfortunate scheduling, but (Reader) couldn't compromise the day for either party. Keeping in contact with their friends was important for their mental health (according to their therapist) but this meeting was more important to (Reader) than practically anything else in their life.

Metal fencing and high beige walls appeared through the trees like a fairy tale castle. Instead of an evil dragon guarding the entrance, however, there were armed guards. Still every bit of evil in (Reader's) eyes.

"Welcome back, Mx. (Reader)." The usual security officer greeted grimly. Before he could ask for identification, (Reader) already had it out. Although they had met many times throughout the past decade, it was still a formality required by law. The two filled out the necessary paperwork while only offering tight smiles. He opened the gate for (Reader) to drive in and park in the visitor's lot. (Reader) always felt the cameras on them whenever they entered this "castle".

Officers emptied (Reader's) pockets and scanned their body for metal. There would be no physical connection at all, but they still needed to take precautions.

(Reader) was led through the lifeless grey halls towards visitation. Each step made their heart race and fostered the smile on their lips. Approaching the room with squeaky broken stools and bulletproof glass relaxed their faux grin for a genuine tranquility. There were no other visitors at the time.

The stool creaked under (Reader) as they gently eased into the old thing, staring at the window. Shortly after they sat down, the man from their phone's wallpaper, now with more silver hair than black, shuffled in on the other side, smiling softly as he sat across from (Reader). They both grabbed the phones.

"Hi Dad."

His dark eyes with pupils so large that without direct light made them look black had deeply etched wrinkles decorating them that folded deeper as he smiled. When Donavon McElroy was arrested, the news outlets focused on his eyes like some kind of Kubrick film, fixating on how you could just see the evil in some people. It felt as though the only person in the entire country who could see how loving Donavon's eyes were was (Reader).

"Hey kiddo. I've missed you."

"I missed you too." There were only four hours of visitation allowed per month. "Have you been getting my letters?"

Greasy ringlets of hair tumbled to the side as he cocked his head. "They're still the highlight of each week." Donavon didn't blink often. Even though the lights always hurt his eyes, no matter how dim they were, he seemed like a mannequin, refusing to blink and miss a second of his precious child's face. "How have you been since our last visit? I know you said in your letters that you're still going to therapy, which is good, very good.. how's that going for you?"

(Reader) felt their smile dip a little. "Well, it's going. I don't really like my therapist, but I know it's just because I don't like what she has to say. Even if I change doctors, they'll still say the same things."

Donavon nodded understandingly. It was like that at first for him as well, receiving psychiatric treatment while in prison. "I didn't like being told that my line of thinking was.. wrong. I knew that logically my thinking was, of course, obviously wrong, but it didn't feel wrong, so having a.. professional tell me that was upsetting."

"But it's important that you continue with it. And I'm very proud of you for continuing with it."

(Reader) laughed. It was a sharp scoff of a laugh, but not spiteful. It filled their chest with hot lava to hear someone praise them for doing what they've been doing since they were ten years old. Because it was difficult. Even if (Reader) continuously told themselves that this was the bare minimum. It was still difficult.

"She has me out in the dating world." (Reader) slumped a little, only slightly enough that no one but Donavon could tell the change in their posture. "Which is.. not fun."

"It can be fun. Does that carnival still come? There used to be a traveling carnival, a pop up fair, that would set up in a parking lot of a small store in our home town, really cheap. That could be a fun first date. Tiny ferris wheel and gravitron. Elephant ears." The two adults smiled widely thinking about it, but neither of them were picturing it as a date. His smile melted when he realized this. "I wish I could have taken you there."

(Reader) imagined a different life, one where they were in his care instead of their mother's, eating pastries the size of their head and getting sick on possibly dangerous attractions in a small parking lot. Their mother never took them, but they knew which pop up fair he was talking about, riding past it on the bus many times in their life. "That sounds like it would have been fun.."

".. but like I said, dating can be fun. As long as your being safe." (Reader's) dad's smile bounced back. "What have you done so far that hasn't been fun?"

"Well, I went out for dinner. Guy named Rich. He was, uh, decent. Talked a lot. Mostly about his job, and goals."

"Sounds career focused, that's good."

"Eh.." They shrugged, eyes drifting.

"What was wrong with him?"

(Reader) sighed. "Nothing. He was.. competent. Seemed like a regular guy. He just.. wasn't my type."

Guilt began to crawl through the folds of Donavon's brain like bugs infesting his conscious. He knew it was all his fault. Everything. But if he said that out loud, (Reader) would deny it, argue and fight it. "Well, there are plenty of fish in the sea."

"There's also plenty of trash."

Donavon pointed a finger at his kid warningly. "There's also sunken treasure. Don't give up hope."

"I don't need someone to be happy.."

"That's true.. but something tells me that when you weren't actively dating around, you weren't being content with the single life, and that's why your therapist is having you go out there. That.. maybe you were still waiting around for something that you shouldn't have, instead of living life to the fullest while alone."

The two became uncomfortably silent. This happened nearly every month. "I just want someone who loves me."

Donavon swore he could cry at that moment. "I'm sorry for-"

"Don't apologize." (Reader) cut him off. "Don't apologize for being a great dad."

"I wasn't. I wasn't a great dad. I'm-"

"-don't-"

"-a monster, (Reader). Kiddo, please, just listen to me. I'm sorry for the things I've done. The way I went about.. I wasn't in my right mind.. what I put you through was not okay. It was not, and will never be okay." He leaned forward, wishing to break through the glass dividing them and hug his kid. "I'm so sorry."

(Reader) softly responded "You're the only person who ever loved me."

"And you deserve better than that."

'No', (Reader) thought, 'there is no better than that.'

"Let's change the subject, please." (Reader) closed their eyes, forcing away the tears. "We never have enough time, and I don't want to spend the entire day focusing on sad shit."

Donavon took a shaky breath. "Okay, kiddo.." he mulled over for a second what to talk about before cracking a smile, one wide enough to show off his missing canine. "Remember Eddy?"

"Your old bunk mate?"

"Yep."

"What about him?"

"He got stabbed."

The sentence was so short and sudden that it shocked (Reader) into snorting, bringing back their genuine smile. "What? When? What happened?"

From the door an older guard smiled sadly, away from view. Donavon was liked by nearly everyone, both by the guards and the other prisoners. It was always a shame, getting to know someone who was supposed to be an evil bastard, and learning that they were just a great man who needed help. Plenty of the older guards understood that (Reader) would forever look at them with disgust and mildly veiled hatred. Because Donavon was (Reader's) hero, and the guards were just wardens unjustly holding him captive.

Their conversation continued without pause, filling the empty room with sounds of parental love and warmth. The guard at the door loved being there whenever it was time for (Reader's) visit with their dad, because it really was an incredibly beautiful and emotional scene every time he was present, but he also hated being the one on duty whenever (Reader) came, because he had to be the villain to say "Time's up" when their four hours were over.

"Mx. (Reader). Donavon."

(Reader's) eyes drooped, darkening under the shadow of their eyelashes. "Already?"

"Unfortunately."

The guard had been there so long, he remembered when (Reader) was a child, and would cry and scream whenever it was time to leave, begging him to let their daddy out.

Donavon smiled comfortingly. "Thank you for visiting me, kiddo."

"Of course."

"Maybe in another decade they'll let me have physical contact visitation." Donavon chuckled, only half serious with his hopeful statement. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too. Don't forget to write."

"I never do."

They both stood up, hanging up their phones painfully. It was the worst time of the day. His chains shook around his wrists as he waved goodbye. He never hurt a single guard in his time incarcerated, but it was a formality, a requirement, due to the nature of his crime. It didn't seem to matter how good his behavior was. Even though the guards trusted him, according to the law Donovan was still to be treated as a monster.

After being guided back out of the room, through the halls, and out to the parking lot, (Reader) finally felt like they could breathe. The air that was stolen when the guard ended their visit with their dad was greedily sucked up outside the stifling building. They finally looked at their silent phone, seeing a dozen messages from Rich. Or, who's number (Reader) assumed was Rich, since they had deleted his contact as soon as they woke up that morning.

Most of the texts were pleas for a second date, or an explanation for what he did wrong. Some of them were insults.

(Reader) sighed, deleting the conversation and blocking his number before getting into their car, allowing tears to silently fall down their warm cheeks. All that they wished for was for someone to love them, and no one would ever love them like their dad did.

The drive back was just as miserable as it was every month.

And just like every month, the tears didn't stop until (Reader) pulled up to their apartment. It was a long day, where the good moments weren't long enough, and (Reader) was ready for another beer. It wasn't Sunday, but it was their Sunday, which meant that they couldn't stay up drinking all night.

But it felt as though they had just popped open their can when someone started pounding on their door, angrily and frantically. (Reader) cursed not being able to afford to live in an apartment that had a controlled door to the building, living in a cheap one that had the stairs on the outside of the building. Which meant that there were no security measures to prevent just anyone from coming straight to (Reader's) unit.

They set the alcohol to the side and made their way to the door. The banging only stopped when the person on the other side heard (Reader) unlocking the deadbolt. A slightly sweaty man with brown hair too short to be messy stood impatiently.

"Rich?"

The slightly younger man shrugged sharply, jutting his head to the side with an attitude as if to say 'No shit, who else?'

"Are you going to let me in?" He asked impatiently.

"Uh, no?" (Reader) furrowed their brow. "How'd you find where I live?" They were too confused to even be mad or scared.

"It wasn't difficult; literally everything is online." Rich responded as though (Reader) was a fucking idiot for even asking. The disrespect was shocking, a severe shift from how he acted during their date. He shifted abruptly as though he was going to charge (Reader), so they tightened their muscles, holding the door closer to their side, which earned an aggravated huff.

"What are you doing here, Rich?"

"Well, you owe me an explanation after you ghosted me after our date the other day." His tone made it sound so obvious.

(Reader) scoffed, almost amused. "No I fucking don't."

"I was the perfect gentleman on our date considering the circumstances, you and I had a good time, but then you ghosted me? And I just want to know why." The emphasis on the 'considering the circumstances' included a wave, motioning to (Reader's) body. (Reader) didn't know if he was insinuating that their body was a problem, or if it was their gender expression, or if he just had high fashion expectations that (Reader) didn't live up to, but the little hand movement finally ticked them off.

"Okay, you're done." (Reader) tried to close the door, but Rich was stronger than he looked, and effortlessly pushed them back into their apartment and entered. (Reader) didn't fall, only stumbled, wobbling to regain balance as Rich casually closed the door behind him, pacing his hands on his hips.

"So, what did I do wrong?"

"You mean before you broke into my home?"

"I did- don't be fucking dramatic, I did not break in. I just want to know, I just want to know what I did wrong."

(Reader) slowly backed up, mentally picturing the apartment behind them to figure out where their closest form of defense was. "Nothing. It just didn't work out-"

"BULL SHIT."

"-you weren't my type."

Rich stuck out his jaw, clicking his tongue. "That isn't a reason."

"Yes, it is-"

"That isn't a reason to be a fucking dick."

'How far behind me is my knife block?'

Before (Reader) could make a move their front door violently flew open again, slamming loudly into the wall. Both Rich and (Reader) whipped around at the jarring noise.

A man stood in the doorway.

His skin was so caked in dirt and muck that his yellowish skin was almost completely painted over. Long, black hair curled due to the oil, hanging down and sticking to his gaunt face. Between the shaggy locks black eyes glared unblinkingly.

"Who the fuck is that?!" Rich nearly hollered, retreating closer to (Reader) out of fear, unable to tear his eyes away from the modified weapon in the intruder's hand.

Warmth spread throughout (Reader's) entire body; the god of love releasing a cage of butterflies into their body.

"He's here to kill me."

Part 0

Eight year old (Reader) tugged on their oversized long sleeve shirt. It was rubbing against the bruises uncomfortably. Everything about their body felt uncomfortable lately.

Their mother was late again.

Mr. Haley sighed loudly for the umpteenth time, looking at his watch as though it was (Reader's) fault their mother hadn't picked them up yet. It was warm and humid, and the sleeves of (Reader's) shirt were sticking to their arms. Despite the heat, Mr. Haley wouldn't allow (Reader) to wait inside, instead standing at the entrance of the school under a tree. (Reader) was the last child at pickup, aside from the children outside on the field for after school sports.

"Is your mom working late again?"

(Reader) didn't answer, instead watching the man walking into the nearly empty parking lot who seemed to be staring at (Reader) and their teacher. They couldn't tell exactly from how far away he was, but he didn't get any closer, keeping to the entrance, partially hidden behind a sign.

"Do you have anyone else I can call? Grandparents?" His kind voice was strained, exhaustion melting his patience.

The man suddenly ducked away from view, and shortly after (Reader's) frazzled mother sped walked into the lot, storming closer to the building. (Reader) left to meet her half way in an attempt to calm her down, but their teacher followed.

"Good afternoon, Ms. (Name)-"

"(Reader), c'mon." As soon as (Reader's) mother was close enough she immediately spun on her heel to leave again, ignoring the teacher.

"Ms. (Name), this is the third time-"

"I know!" The woman snapped, stopping abruptly, causing (Reader) to bump into her side. "I'm sorry."

"-the third time this month."

"I said I know!" She whined, throwing up her hands. "I couldn't get out of work, it wasn't that long!"

"After school activities are almost over. It's been almost an hour-"

"Don't be a dick, okay, I'm twenty minutes late."

"School ended forty minutes ago."

She crossed her arms. "So not an hour."

"Almost an hour-"

"So not an hour."

Mr. Haley sighed in defeat. He tried again, however, he was interrupted by the woman grabbing (Reader) by the arm and dragging them out of the parking lot. Her nails dug into the scabs on (Reader's) arm.

She spat out curses towards the teacher as she dragged her kid down the road towards the bus stop.

"Fucking asshole- and I told you that I was working late!" She turned her frustrations on (Reader), squeezing their arm painfully before releasing them, making (Reader) lose their balance.

"I'm sorry, Mom.." (Reader) quietly apologized, already shrinking in on themselves, head hunching into their tiny shoulders.

"Jesus, stop flinching like that. You look like I beat you or something.."

It was true, she never hit (Reader).

She just grabbed them.

Grabbed them by the back of the shirt, the front of their collar, the arms, wrists, and all parents smack their kids on the back of their heads, that's not hitting. It wasn't her fault that (Reader) bruised so easily. She didn't even hit them.

The city bus pulled up to the stop.

"Kevin's coming over for date night, so when we get home, make sure to do all your homework in your room. I'll bring you dinner and some snacks, but the adults need some alone time, okay?"

"Okay?"

"Okay!" (Reader) loudly responded, wringing their shirt in frustration.

(Reader) liked their mom when they had popcorn nights, when they made a bowl of popcorn and sat down to watch a rented movie together. But most of the time? (Reader) hated their mother.

They hated the way she dismissed them. (Reader) never seemed to be a priority in the woman's life. It didn't even feel like she hated (Reader). (Reader) was just nothing. They didn't receive hugs when they were scared, didn't get kisses when they were sick. And it wasn't one of those cases where you can't remember a single good memory because you're mad; (Reader) couldn't recall a single time their mother ever said the words 'I love you' to them.

She said it to Kevin though.

When they arrived home, (Reader) immediately went to their room, closing the door and flopping onto their mattress on the floor. They didn't feel like doing their homework, and decided instead on a quick nap. It wasn't like their mother was going to check in on them and see how they were doing anyway.

Maybe their dreams would bring a nice family for them.

CRASH!

A loud smash of glass and something heavy falling onto the thin apartment floor woke (Reader) up. They didn't know how long they were out for, but the sun was still up. (Reader) nervously bolted off the mattress and onto their feet, teetering in the middle of the room.

There was a quiet choking sound that liquefied into a gurgle before silencing.

(Reader's) handle slowly turned and their door was softly opened. A terrified looking man drenched in blood stood in front of (Reader), gazing down at them with inhuman eyes. His eyes were wide, panicked, but glassy, red, and with pupils so enlarged that he reminded (Reader) of the ghost woman from a scary movie their mother had been watching. He tried to brush his black hair out of his eyes, never looking away from (Reader's). It was the most intense staring contest (Reader) had ever been in.

He was timid in his approach, crouching down to his knees as he got closer to (Reader).

"..Hi." His voice was shaky and breathy. The man seemed to be overcome with an emotion that (Reader) didn't recognize. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, yet he still didn't blink. He swallowed hard before continuing. "My name is Donavon."

(Reader) was in an odd trance, halfway between petrified and numb. "My name is (Reader)." They didn't know why they answered.

"I know." For the first time since entering, Donavon glanced away from (Reader), searching the room for something. There were no toys in (Reader's) room. "Are you a-" His face broke trying to find the words he needed for his question. "Are you a b-?" A- a-.."

"I'm a kid." (Reader) tugged on their uncomfortable long sleeve shirt.

Donavon smiled so wide that his face looked like it completely split in half. Tears ran down his face shamelessly. The pure joy startled (Reader). "You're a kid." He sniffed back his snot and wiped away some tears, still smiling so hard that his face was turning red and he looked like he was going to laugh. "You're my kid."

He pulled (Reader) into a hug.

It wasn't like the quick hug the school nurse gave them, or the hugs their friends at school gave them; it was desperate.

He squeezed them almost too tightly, his fingers digging painfully into their ribs as he breathed in their hair. But (Reader) didn't cry out or ask him to stop. Tears had begun to fall from their eyes as well.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. I should have been here. I should have been here." He started rocking (Reader) as he apologized into their scalp. "I didn't know about you, but I do now, and I'm here now."

(Reader) felt him kiss the side of their head quickly before he went back to whispering.

"I didn't know. But I do now. I'm so sorry."

It was too much, and it made (Reader) cry. They sobbed loudly, wailing into his chest as they returned the hug.

"I love you, (Reader). I love you so much. I don't know you yet, but I still love you. I should have been here for you, but I am now. And I am never letting you go. Okay? No one is ever taking you away from me."

Police sirens approached, screaming outside the building. (Reader) felt Donavon quickly reach into his back pocket, but he never let go from their right embrace.

"I never knew your mom. When I saw you with her last year, I - I tried to get into contact, but, but.. No one would listen to me, I had no proof.. I.. got a DNA test.. I -I'm your dad! I'm a father!" He started rambling, trying to explain things to (Reader), but they couldn't understand anything he was saying. And it didn't matter to them. He said he loved them.

(Reader) heard heavy boot steps and an officer loudly announce his presence.

"No one is ever taking you away from me again."

He was still only hugging (Reader) with one arm.

Someone entered the room, and a really loud sound hurt (Reader's) ears.

An officer shot Donovan in the shoulder, causing the knife he was holding to clatter onto the floor. He fell, releasing (Reader). They saw the knife and quickly put two and two together. But something happened in (Reader's) underdeveloped brain. It didn't matter that they had just met him. That man the police just shot was their dad. And he loved them.

"No!" (Reader) tried to launch themselves at Donovan to protect him, but their tiny body was caught by an officer.

"Don't worry, I've got ya!" The man tried to console (Reader), easily subduing their thrashing limbs, but his soothing voice didn't ease the pain in their heart, nor did it dampen the volume of their shrieks.

"DADDY!!"

The cop carried (Reader) out past the bodies of their mother and Kevin. Both were mutilated, lying naked near the couch in a pool of blood and spilt vodka.

Donavon was sentenced to life without parole.

He testified in court that the only thing he regretted was almost hurting his child. (Reader's) mother had taken advantage of him at a party years ago. Donavon had passed out drunk in the master's bedroom and woken up with his pants and underwear around his ankles. He told the court he didn't remember anything that happened, so although he suspected that someone had assaulted him, he had no proof and records showed that the police refused to help him when he went to report it.

It was a one in a million chance that Donavon saw (Reader) and their mother grocery shopping over a year ago, and nearly had a heart attack seeing a little kid who had his father's ears. Ears are just as unique as fingerprints, and to see a little kid with badly cut hair looking like a mixture of his father's baby photos and the woman walking beside them gave Donavon a sense of confidence that was borderline disturbing. He told the jury that he approached the woman with the intent of making polite conversation about how much alike her kiddo looked like his late father, but knew immediately that (Reader) was his, because when their mother looked Donavon in the eyes she recognized him.

"Before I could even say 'Hi', she grabbed (Reader's) arm and said 'Stay away from my child, Donavon.' I didn't even remember her face."

On the witness stand, Donavon admitted to breaking into their home so he could get access to (Reader's) DNA, stealing their hair brush. He also admitted to stalking the family, watching them as (Reader) openly showed signs of abuse. He called CPS multiple times, but nothing ever came of it.

Donavon repeated how time and time again law enforcement failed to help him get custody of his 'alleged' child, and that he had "snapped".

"I told (Reader) that no one would take them away from me again. Please, please I know I was wrong." Donavon pleaded the jury, looking past the lawyers and staring with his horrifying, never ending gaze. "Please don't put me away forever. I can get better, with help! I needed help! But my baby, my kiddo, they deserve better, please don't separate us again!"

Despite going to a decent foster family and receiving regular therapy sessions with child services, (Reader) had learned what true love was. The smiles their foster family gave them felt fake. No one could hug (Reader) tight enough to press their way into (Reader's) heart. Love was tears streaming down from the black coal eyes of a desperate father who just killed his kiddo's abusers. That was heroic. That was good. Just.

(Reader's) foster parents smiled at each other all the time, and said I love you multiple times a day. Then they divorced. Love was (Reader's) daddy, ready to kill (Reader) so they never had to be apart again.

The therapist with child services watched with a broken heart as (Reader) refused her homemade cookies. "Have you made any friends at school?"

(Reader) shrugged. They didn't see much of a point in friends. "There are these two kids I eat lunch with." Two kids who wouldn't leave them alone, no matter how much (Reader) ignored them.

"That's good! What are their names?"

"Miranda and Brian."

"Are they good kids?"

"They're weird. Brian wears glasses that make his eyes look super big, and Miranda wears a fedora."

"Well, I'll let you in on a secret. The weird kids are usually more fun to hang out with than the normal kids!" She winked while smiling, but it didn't phase (Reader).

"When can I see my dad?"

The therapist leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to control her inner turmoil before shutting her eyes. "I'm working on that, but it's very difficult. Mr. McElroy is in a lot of trouble for what he did."

(Reader) looked down at the drawing they had been making of them playing outside with Donavon. "I wish he killed me."

Part II

Warren had run away from home, again.

His left eye was swollen shut, and blood speckled the front of his t-shirt. The ten year old hadn't even done anything yet, but his father had had a bad day at work, and been drinking for a couple of hours by the time Warren was dropped off by the Saturday babysitter.

He ran into the woods, blinded by his tears and the swelling.

Because of the crying and injury to his eye, Warren couldn't see very well, and kept running even when he emerged from the trees into a clearing; running into a very deep hole.

There was a pain as his ankle popped, crashing at the bottom into the mud. Everything hurt, so he allowed himself to scream and cry as loudly as he needed. No one was going to come for him anyway.

And so he stayed in the hole and watched as the sun went down and the world went black. Even though he knew his father wouldn't come looking for him, he still wished he would. He wished someone needed him as badly as he needed them.

There was no moon that night, leaving Warren completely blind after the purple sunset left the sky. With his unusually dilated pupils Warren typically preferred the dark over the sun, but without the moon there wasn't enough light for him to see.

'Maybe, I should just spend the night in here.' The sad thought made him sniffle, threatening to release the floodgates again.

"It's right over here!" A loud whisper followed by feet tripping over branches echoed through the trees. Warren held his breath, suddenly afraid of being discovered. It wasn't logical to be frightened, but he was. There were strangers in the woods, and he was in pain and blind and alone. His heart beat in his chest like a war drum as people drew near.

"How do you know where it is?"

The voices belonged to children, probably around Warren's age, but he didn't recognize any of them. Most of what they said was too quiet to hear, until they arrived at the clearing.

"Over here."

The strangers stopped near the hole, but too far away to see Warren covered in mud at the bottom. Lights were illuminating the air, and Warren figured that they must have had flashlights with them. His eyes finally had enough light to adjust to the pitch black, and he watched a letter flutter into the hole, followed shortly by another letter, gracefully drifting in.

Then a thick envelope was chucked in, hitting Warren in the head, who had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from accidentally making a startled sound.

"What did you wish for?" Someone asked.

With that question, Warren realized where he was.

He grabbed the letter that had hit him, quietly opening it up as two of the strangers above him bickered. In the faint light he saw a lot of words, too many to read before they left, so he quickly scanned the page out of curiosity. His breath hitched when he saw a drawing of himself.

Black eyes and shaggy black hair.

Warren put the papers back in the envelope and stuck it in his pants. Someone approached the edge, and Warren caught a glimpse of hair and eyes. They didn't see him, but he certainly saw them.

"What did you wish for, (Reader)?"

"Someone who loves me.."

And at that moment, Warren believed in the hole that grants wishes.

He had no proof that the child looking down at him was the same child who threw the wish practically into his lap, but he knew that it was. Like fate, or magic.

After the trio left, Warren pulled his sore little body out of the muck, repeating (Reader's) name to himself over and over again as to not forget it. He didn't know how, but he knew that (Reader) was the one who's wish he had stolen. Warren limped home, easily sneaking in past his father passed out on the couch and up the stairs to the bathroom, where he locked the door.

He quickly pulled out the letter, opening it up in the light to read the wish in full.

"I wish someone would love me." Warren read quietly out loud, sounding out each word as his finger followed the sentence.

"He has to be just like my dad. Be - cause my dad is the only person who loves me."

"He has to have black hair and black eyes.."

Warren looked at his dirty face in the mirror, ignoring the purple around his left eye and focusing on his natural features. A proud smile crept onto his lips.

He went back to reading. "And his eyes should be deep.." Warren's own eyes were also deep set, making it look like he had bags under his eyes even after a full night's sleep. His ears started to turn pink. The picture was of the kid he saw at the hole with a tall man with black hair and eyes and a little guy who looked the same. He pointed at each person. "That's (Reader).. that's (Reader's) daddy... And that's.." he looked at himself in the mirror, tearing up with how hard he was smiling.

Someone needed him.

He turned the page over and his smile instantly fell, his blood freezing.

Pictures of bloody bodies covered the pages.

Page after page of dead people with the most intense things Warren had ever read followed the seemingly innocent wish. He hadn't been exposed to video games yet, his father didn't let him watch TV, and Warren ignored the other kids at his school, so he had never known violence outside of the terrible things his father did to him. And the words he read in that envelope were violent.

"True love is keeping me."

"If he loves me, he'll kill me."

"Don't let them take me away again."

"Together forever."

(Reader) was worried about the limitations of the wishing hole, so they felt they had to be very specific about their ideal boy. Which meant that they had to explain what love was. And to explain what love was, meant that they had to explain to the hole what their dad had done to their mother and Kevin.

It scared Warren.

But only for a moment.

He thought about the joy (Reader) would feel when they saw him for the first time, how their eyes would light up with love and adoration. In his mind, they would recognize him instantly, like their drawing come to life. Warren was their wish come true. And, in a way, (Reader) was his.

He slowly went back to his bedroom and hid the letter in his underwear drawer. The wish was like his most prized possession. Knowing that there was someone out there who needed Warren made him, for the first time in a very long time, feel hopeful for the future.

The next few years of Warren's life, however, were not pleasant in the slightest.

An anatomy book flew at Warren's face, connecting with his thin nose. He was now in highschool, and the abuse had only worsened.

"What the fuck is this?!" His father threw another medical book, terrified. In the past he used to throw and break things even though Warren's only crime was existing, but now even Warren could understand his father's disgust.

A rat laid on Warren's table, split open.

"I'm practicing.." Warren smiled, blood dripping from his nostrils.

"I should kick you out of the goddamn house!" The drunk man kicked a wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.

"If you do that, I'll go to the police."

His father's eyes widened. "The fuck you just say, you little psychopath?!"

The man was very nimble for someone so swollen from years of alcohol consumption, closing the distance between himself and his son before Warren had a chance to put up his hands in defense. Large, yellowed fingers grabbed a fistful of Warren's greasy hair and lifted his dangerously underweight body off the ground; high enough where Warren couldn't touch the floor with his toes.

"Think about it. You have no proof for the cops that I killed this rat, but I have all the proof that you hit me." To emphasize his point, Warren didn't wipe away the blood that was now dripping onto the rat carcass.

Black eyes that held no light stared wide and unblinking at the disgusting excuse of a man before Warren. His father looked about the room, which was now covered in articles about some murderer from years ago and medical texts printed off at the local library.

Warren was dropped onto his ass. "Fucking freak." His father mumbled before stumbling out of the room.

It wasn't until Warren heard the drunkard smash though the hall towards the staircase that he finally grabbed some tissue to shove up his nose. It had taken him years and years of hard thinking, but Warren had finally found a way to be (Reader's) perfect husband. It was difficult, but the solution was finally discovered, a way to make (Reader's) wish come true without killing them.

He thought he would probably drop out of school, but that didn't really matter to Warren. The young man already had a part time job, and his future career as a manager for a small corner store was practically set.

Candid shots of (Reader) laid under the box of tissues. While (Reader) had continued growing into an attractive young adult, Warren was stunted. A lack of nutrition gave his unnaturally pale skin a yellow tint, and he was so thin that some of his teeth were becoming loose. But it felt as though he couldn't waste even a second thought on anything that wasn't (Reader).

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whiskers.." Warren apologized quietly to the dead rat. "I didn't mean to kill you. I'll do better next time."

Every time Warren saw (Reader) out and about, he wanted to drag them behind a dumpster and fuck them till they bled. It took incredible restraint to stick to his plan and keep to the shadows.

Their wish, laminated, hung above his bed like a prayer, one that he read and worshipped every night before bed.

Warren's father didn't notice when he stopped going to his classes.

He also didn't notice the muffled screaming from the basement, when Warren evolved his experiments from rats to people.

It wasn't until the smell became unbearable that he finally sobered up enough to go down and investigate.

As he searched the house for the cause of the smell, the aging, dying man briefly wondered when the last time he had been down in basement was. Or, when he last saw his good for nothing son.

The stairs to the lowest level creaked under his shoes, and an anxiety he had never before known trickled up through his bones.

At the bottom of the stairs, a door held back the stench like a leaking flood gate. Opening the squealing door wafted a wave of nausea inducing gas right into the man's face.

"Hey, ew what the- hey freak! You down here?! What's that smell..?" His eyes didn't have time to adjust to the dusty basement light before Warren swung a wooden baseball bat with spikes towards his father's face. One spike went through his skull near his nose and another popped open one of his eyes. But his death was due to the blunt force, cracking his head open as easily as smashing a watermelon. The junkie strapped and gagged to the table silently screamed as their one hope for salvation died in front of them.

"I'm sorry about the interruption." Warren smiled, his eyes still and unwavering. The man who had destroyed his childhood and stolen his happiness laid bleeding out on the floor, and Warren didn't feel a single thing. It was strange, part of him thought that he would feel satisfaction watching his abuser die, but he felt nothing at all. Warren only killed his father because he had interrupted his experiment with the homeless person who looked amazingly like (Reader). The young man held up a belt. "Let's continue."

Warren didn't consider himself to be a murderer. What he was doing to the people he abducted was for love. There was no evil or hatred, and if he looked at it in a certain light, he wasn't really trying to kill them at all.

Moving to the night shift gave Warren more time to stalk (Reader) during the day. Just as he had predicted, Warren became a higher member of management, and even 'owned his own home' now that his father had tragically passed. Everything was progressing perfectly, because his entire existence was a wish come true.

It hurt, hiding in the booth behind (Reader) and their friends, hearing about how they had started dating at the suggestion of their bitch therapist, but Warren decided that it was good for their relationship. It proved to him that even after all this time, (Reader) still loved him and needed him. Every time a date failed to live up to (Reader's) expectations it further fueled Warren's fantasy of how (Reader) would react when he finally revealed himself to them.

The dates also provided Warren ample opportunity to look around their apartment. Like when they went on a date with some whiny loser his age. He wasn't even (Reader's) type. Their home was small and quaint, and taking pictures of it in extreme detail helped Warren learn how to decorate the room (Reader) would be staying in once they finally started dating.

Dating.

The idea of merely "dating" caused a painful strain in Warren's chest, but he knew that it was only logical to date before he proposed. At least for a month or so. Maybe a week.

Well, whenever he did propose, Warren knew (Reader) would accept, because Warren was their wish come true. There was nothing he could do wrong, because his entire existence was due to (Reader's) will.

He didn't even bother cleaning off the dirt when he scuffed up the bedroom door. There was no point, because (Reader) wouldn't ever fear or hate anything he did, even if they didn't know he was the one responsible. Because that was fate.

(Reader's) undergarments rested on top of the dirty clothes basket.

Even that was fate.

Because why would they leave their worn underwear in plain view, if not for him? His hands with dirt crusted nails stroked the garment, imaging that he could still feel the heat of (Reader's) body on them. Warren imagined how happy (Reader) would be to learn what he did with their underwear, in their bed. He imagined their eyes glowing like an angel's as their smile graced his filthy presence.

Because this was (Reader's) wish.

And soon, Warren would finally give them their happily ever after.

Warren had put in for a week of vacation at his work; their shared bedroom was decorated; and his supplies were hidden in a backpack in the dirt behind (Reader's) complex. It was like a fairytale, when the knight came to save the dragon from the prince.

Rich approached (Reader's) front door as Warren dug up his hidden tools. Mud covered his face and gloves, but he didn't mind. In fact, it was like a mask, where only his true love would recognize him. Warren knew that his dream would come true that day, but it was even better than he had hoped for. Prince Rich was there to harass his dragon.

He had hoped it would be this easy, and the universe provided. Fate was always on Warren's side when it came to making (Reader's) wish come true. All those lives lost to Warren's experiments were not wasted.

The annoying voice of Rich was audible from outside the building, but it was difficult to feel anything negative towards to poor bastard. In Warren's mind, it wasn't Rich's fault that he was born to be such a loser; it was fate's design for the man to be sacrificed.

Warren threw open the front door, scaring the shit out of the stronger looking man. "Who the fuck is that?!"

Then, the sands of time were fused into glass by the electricity between Warren and (Reader). Their expression looked relieved, just as Warren had always hoped it would. A smile stretched across the beautiful lips Warren often fantasized about kissing. Their cheeks pulled up in the most honest grin Warren had ever seen.

Tears of joy decorated their bottom lashes like glitter.

"He's here to kill me."

Rich put up his arm as though to protect (Reader) from Warren. Again, Warren felt no anger towards the man and his silly reaction.

The bat used to kill Warren's father restarted time as it aimed for Rich's skull.

(Reader) looked up endearingly at Warren, now sitting on their knees in a pool of Rich's blood. The man before them was everything they had ever dreamt of. His black eyes never left (Reader's), even as he bludgeoned their date to death.

It took all of (Reader's) will power to not shake in their seat. Excitement flowed through their veins so quickly that it sent involuntary quivers through their muscles. Everything that they had ever wanted was finally coming true.

"I've been waiting for you." (Reader) felt their chest tighten as Warren approached.

But then he dropped his bat.

Their smile twitched a little, but (Reader) tried to not let anxiety ruin their happiest moment. The dirty man slid a backpack off and started rifling through it.

"I've been waiting for you too.." A voice that sounded oddly chipper finally responded, echoing from a wide grin that showed off yellowing teeth with a few missing on the bottom row.

(Reader) smiled harder. "You're going to kill me?" It was phrased like a question, but it was more of a plea.

"No."

"What?"

(Reader's) smile cracked in half. The adrenaline in their system turned deadly.

Warren's smile didn't fade.

"But, you have to." (Reader) began to panic. This had to be the man they wished to life. He had to be there to kill them. It was fate. He had to! "Aren't you here for me?"

"Of course I am."

"Then you have to kill me! If you love me, you have to-!"

Warren dropped his bag, revealing a hacksaw. He held it relaxed in one hand, and held a belt in the other. "Do you know how selfish you are, (Reader)?"

(Reader's) mind went numb with confusion.

"I've loved you for so long, and now that I finally have you, you think I'm going to kill you?"

"I'm not going to let anyone have you."

"Not even death."

The End

The two story house was full of trash bags. Every room in the building was full of clutter and filth, except the master bedroom.

Warren came home from a long shift, excited to have his precious spouse in his arms.

None of the guards at the prison would listen to Donavon when he tried to convince them all that something was wrong. A child suddenly not visiting their murderer of a parent in prison was not reason to go to the police and open a missing person's case. Even the officers that liked Donavon couldn't do anything.

The bedroom decorated to (Reader's) taste was unlocked by Warren as he finally climbed through all the shit. He entered their shared home with a warm expression of pure love on his face.

"(Reader), I'm home!"

In the middle of the room watching television was a wheelchair bound (Reader). Their arms and legs amputated, sitting helplessly in a soiled diaper. A drugged up, lopsided smiled sleepily tugged the corners of their mouth up.

"Welcome home, baby.."

A/N: Sorry it took so long, happy to start writing again ❤️

[ewingstan]

I certainly didn’t appreciate it on the first read-through, but one of the biggest background characterizations of Alec is among first things we learned about him: that he painted the Undersider’s symbols onto the doors of their hideout.

The loft reads as almost ridiculous when you first read about it. Whatever you’re expecting the hideout of a bunch of hardened criminals to look like, your not expecting “the rich kid’s house with all the best video games.” It almost took me out of it; it felt like such a teen wish fulfillment of a supervillain base that I thought Wildbow must be pretty young—and didn’t really take in what it was telling the reader about the Undersider’s mindset. Because it is a teen wish fulfillment, filtered through the practicality of what cost, secrecy, and Brian would allow for. Its the derelict old building you dare your friends to go into to find some rumored amazing or horrible secret—but this building does have a secret, and its a pizza party with a sweet flatscreen setup.

For the most part, it is an especially cool hangout spot that would appeal to your average teen—and not necessarily your average villain. Taylor gets told to use the other’s civilian names while hanging out here. They wear street clothes instead of their costumes. Its built to be appealing to the non-cape side of your life, a welcome reprieve from that world. For the Undersiders who don’t have much of a real life outside of capedom, its something like a place to play make-believe. That’s part of why its so effective as an initial pitch to Taylor when she’s looking for friends and doesn’t want to be a villain, why its important for ingratiating her to the rest of them and making her backstabbing plan that much harder to follow through on. Its part of why getting her own lair, built for the specifications of Skitter the Warlord instead of Taylor the kid, represents such a big change in how Taylor sees herself and her goals. Its why there’s presumably dozens of Undersider fics of them just casually hanging out in the loft, away from any major cape shenanigans. Its why Rachel's first full appearance is her coming up into the room and breaking the bubble—ruining Brian’s pitch of sweet teen digs by bringing the violence inherent to cape life into the supposedly separate space. Because the loft is supposed to be for the Undersiders to be themselves as civilians, instead of capes.

But at the same time, everyone’s personal room has their symbol painted on their door. And the first real thing we learn about Regent is that he’s the one who painted them.

Regent did not get to have a double life. His cape stuff and his family stuff were inherently intertwined, and it was all bad. He’s arguably the only undersider to have a secret identity in a traditional, important sense: not just “you have a civilian life, and everyone’s gonna respect that its separate and not go after anything related to it,” like @artbyblastweave​ outlined here, but “your specific other identity is important, in a sense outside of just being something to target” way. People finding out who Skitter is means they know there’s an identity there to exploit—her enemies can trace her to her school, she can’t continue to go back to her old house, etc. You’d be able to get the same advantage by finding out the civilian identity of pretty much any cape. But not with Alec. People finding out who Alec is means they go “oh fuck, its Heartbreaker’s kid—” the effect is much more like finding out Taylor is Skitter, rather than vice versa.

And that’s important, because the persona of Regent is, to a large extent, his chance to live out the life he wants. Brian and Lisa both have circumstances that don’t allow them a typical childhood, and so they construct spaces to go through the motions of one. To roughhouse and play video games with friends, to plan shopping trips and visits to Fugly Bobs. They’re looking for a respite from their normal state, and that respite to them looks like civilian life. Alec is looking for a respite from his awful childhood, and that respite has a lot of the same things, but it also has the symbols and aspects of his cape persona. He draws his crown on his door, he uses his powers casually on Brian—he’s using the space to let him be Regent, in the same way Brian is pitching it to Skitter as a place where she can just be Taylor, where Tattletale can just be Lisa. This is pretty huge for understanding Regent early-on: Taylor obviously has a pretty expansive double life, as does Brian, and Lisa clearly wants to get into some non-cape-related shenanigans. We’re introduced with a clear divide between cape and civilian identities being the norm. Rachel is presented as bucking a trend, her lack of second identity making her an outlier. But if you read into Regent’s decorating choices, you realize pretty early that you can’t separate his cape identity and his current civilian idenitiy, because their both effectively the same thing: a persona where he can be something other than a Vasil.

Sheesh, now that I’m thinking about it there’s a lot to be drawn from each of the undersider’s lairs. I already talked a bit about how Skitter having her new base be a proper “villain lair” instead of “hang spot” represented a shift in perspective, and how Rachel being unable to behave the way your “supposed” to in the loft shows that she both can’t live a double life and has no interest in doing so (unlike Alec, who is very clearly interested in making a “new” life for himself with the Undersiders as Regent). But how about how Brian won’t take a room in the loft and insists on sleeping in a separate apartment he’s planning on shairing with Aisha? He obviously wants to be able to draw an especially clear line between his cape and civilian life, and doesn’t want Aisha to get involved at all. How about how Lisa’s eventual separate Coil-provided villain lair is a disguised community center she was pretending to work in, showing both that she has some interest in a life outside of capedom and that she’s inherently drawn to working with/having control over civilian culture? She doesn’t just want to hold territory, she wants to be an institution—not just someone the other capes have to play ball with, but who the mayor and civilian agencies have to go through. She separates capedom and civilianhood to an extent, but not to the same extent as Brian, and her goals are much more “civilian-oriented” than most.

I forget the specifics of Alec’s eventual Coil-base, but I know that it was a group of buildings (a campus, maybe?) with few people in the surrounding area outside of puppets—presumably not so different from the compound he grew up. But I do remember that one of the last times we see it is near when Taylor says something about his connection to Heartbreaker, and him getting upset by it. I wonder if it changes in the intervening two years, especially with Imp’s influence. I’m kinda sad we never get a chance to see it.

[ram-bles]

what do u think daisuke would be into like series, music, etc

warning very unorganized

just a quick post before I continue the previous asks

baseball animes period. I don't go here so I don't really know specifics

probably has mangas of them ^^^

trigun and cowboy bebop

jojos bizarre adventure

digimon obviously

visual novels

music? [I'll probably edit it later when I get to scroll through spotify lol]

game and anime osts, kingo hamada, flipturn, best coast, yellow card, beach bunny, benee, probably some kpop too (I also don't go here but from my very limited passive knowledge, stray kids and enhypen), khai dreams, joey valence & brae, yung gravy, bbno$, rich brian, glass animals, cavetown, american pleasure club

smiling friends

ranma ½

vampire dies in no time

digital circus

alice in borderland

spiderman definitely

one punch man

Mashle lmao

kaiju no.8

ouran hs

scott pilgrim

racing games

Minecraft, Roblox, Fortnite, c'mon y'know the drill guys

league of legends, valorant, overwatch yeah...

since he plays lol he probably went to arcane (probably has a crush on vi or ekko)

cannot stop fucking quoting vines

castlevania

ive never owned a gameboy so I unfortunately don't know any games he'd like there :((

[agendabymooner]

indigo ! pierre g. x ofc (singer!ofc)

"first to one-up your last, (s)he can stay in your past."

summary: a certain pierre gasly shouldn't be jealous over a high school sweetheart, and ensley made sure to remind him that. OR no amount of subtweeting from an ex-boyfriend can deter ensley's love for the alpine driver

content warning: ex-boyfriend (fictional), use of explicit language, allusions to smut (no smut, i can't do it guys), slight insecure!pierre, pierre is a boba fan, ofc and other drivers in a private twitter account, pierre and ensley being h0rny on main, chatfic + tweets, rare british youtubers in the comments

note: someone should have the audacity, and it will be ensley and lester :)

masterlist

tagged ensoleil

liked by willne, landonorris, estebanocon

brianimanuel look at my lil frenchman being cultured and all 💗 liked by pierregasly

user1 "my lil frenchman" 💀

willne i feel like i shouldn't be here

ensoleil we don't recall asking william :)

pierregasly bebe that's not very nice

ensoleil my bad bub sorry william

user2 y'all telling me ensley listens to the person she didn't even like before???

user3 this dump is giving "pierre is an exhibitionist" liked by pierregasly

user3 pierre?! what does that mean?

user4 i need to touch grass (or they do)

user5 pierre's the kind to pull her by the hair then kiss her whenever someone tries to eye her liked by pierregasly

user6 PIERRE PLEASE TOUCH SOME GRASS

landonorris you think this dump is bad try being the photographer of the said photos liked by pierregasly

maxfewtrell i second that

yungfilly i third that

willne so it's not just me?? our group therapy session's about to be mad lads

user7 not the group therapy sesh 😭

charles_leclerc mon dieu, there are kids in this app, calamar 🥲 liked by pierregasly

ensoleil too many to unpack because he packing frfr

charles_leclerc go to church and indulge in some holy water.

tagged pierregasly

liked pierregasly, brianimanuel, willne

user1 "big dick is back in town" 😩

niko do you have that shirt available for me?

ensoleil no sorry, it's only reserved for one man

wroetoshaw oh so you're not even going back to your flat in uk for a frenchman? 😒 liked by ensoleil

ensoleil ain't you french?

wroetoshaw i'm from guernsey?!

ensoleil same thing

willne i thought i lost that shirt 😟

ensoleil it was never urs

estebanocon i already get enough of this in the paddock

ensoleil sorry bestie you'll get more of this in your timeline :)

estebanocon its ok i like you two together anyway

brianimanuel look at our moneymaker 🥰 liked by ensoleil

pierregasly i prefer the word "muse" but thank you bb

yukitsunoda0511 look at our boyfriend liked by ensoleil

ensoleil i know right?!!!

pierregasly i didn't agree to this 😭

pierregasly if he tries to post about you one more time my dump photos will be even worse liked by ensoleil

ensoleil make him cry ig 😩😉

pierregasly oh i will, mon bebe

bonus !!!

JOJI JUDGES ENSLEY AND RICH BRIAN'S HOMEMADE BUBBLE TEA IN THIS FEAST MANSION EPISODE by first we feast

[lurkingshan]

On Boston and Brian Kinney

I’ve seen a lot of folks in the Only Friends tag recently making connections between the show and Queer as Folk, both US and UK versions, which makes sense because QaF is a clear reference for the show, both visually and thematically, and we know Jojo likes to reference western media in his work. One parallel folks are drawing is not tracking for me, however, so I am jumping in the wayback machine and putting on my old QaF stan hat to talk to y’all about Brian Kinney, and why Boston is actually nothing like him. Tagging @bengiyo and @neuroticbookworm who talked this through with me and also @slayerkitty because I saw you were contemplating this connection between the two characters.

So, first, why are people making this comparison? It really boils down to one thing: Brian and Boston are both sluts. That’s… pretty much it. They both like sex and prefer to have it with many different partners, and neither has much use for monogamy. But this is pretty much where their similarities end. 

So let’s remind ourselves who Brian Kinney is: a kind of fantasy of a hot, rich, self-actualized gay man with unmatched sexual prowess and a surface level flippancy masking a heart of gold. Brian is an adult man with a thriving career and money that he earned for himself after leaving his abusive and homophobic family (who would eventually explicitly reject him because of his sexuality). As a result, he is defiant in his commitment to live his life as loudly and queerly as possible—which includes a dedication to fucking and sucking, public sex, and a rejection of heteronormative constructs like monogamy.

Brian has a very clear moral code he lives by, even if it’s not one most can relate to. He decides to have a son with his (lesbian) best friend because part of him wants to believe in a better future and build a family of his own. He is extremely loyal to his found family even as he’s a jerk to their face most of the time, and he is always working behind the scenes to protect them even as he often hurts their feelings with his glib remarks and shitty behavior. Despite his disdain for monogamy, he never actually tries to destroy any of his friends’ happy relationships (in fact, he tries to sacrifice his own friendship with Michael to ensure he stays with his boyfriend).

Brian has a sense of responsibility to others and often takes on the blame for things he didn’t even do, which is why he takes baby gay Justin to Debbie and ensures he is cared for even as he tries to dissuade Justin from getting attached to him, and why he cares for Justin in the aftermath of his bashing. He cares deeply about his community, to the point where he pours his money into protecting the local gay scene, literally bankrupts himself to stop an anti-gay politician from winning an election, and gives up a dream job to stay put in Pittsburgh and help rebuild the community after a hate crime.

Brian is unflinchingly honest and he avoids making promises because once he does, he knows he will absolutely keep them—he takes his commitments seriously and he always does what he says he will. When he falls in love, he does not abandon his core values but he is willing to make some compromises. And he hides his better self and often wallows in self-destructive behavior because he feels deeply unworthy of love, which goes back to the intergenerational trauma he experienced as a child in an abusive home and the parental rejection he felt due to his sexuality. 

Boston, by contrast, is a character who feels more rooted in reality. He’s a pampered rich kid who is indulged in his hobbies and who already has a life plan laid out for him and paid for by his daddy. He likes to sleep around mostly because it’s fun, and because he knows his life here is temporary so he doesn’t see any point in getting attached to people. In stark contrast to Brian’s out and proud and fuck you if you have a problem with it brand of politics, he is still trying to hide who he is in service of his father’s political career, even if he’s pretty sloppy about it (see him fucking Top in a car with giant windows parked in the driveway at a house party).

Boston’s moral code is fungible and ever-changing to fit his circumstances—boy is a hypocrite (see his opinions about people filming and photographing him even as he does the same to others constantly). He has no loyalty and no qualms about hurting and betraying his friends, and actively tries to destroy their relationships for sport or as a means to get what he wants. He does not feel responsible for anyone and often lies and ducks accountability for the things he does. He does not care about his community at all, and in fact already has a NYC escape hatch in his back pocket for when he inevitably burns his bridges. He is not as honest as Brian and sends a lot of mixed messages to keep people guessing and on the hook.

Rather than hurting people by being brutally honest as Brian does, Boston plays psychological games and manipulates his friends and lovers, and he seems to take twisted pleasure in blowing up their happiness. We haven’t seen him make a promise or fall in love, and while there are some signs that he may have some sort of inferiority complex at play (with Mew in particular), his motives are not tied to any past trauma. Boston is just a messy bitch who loves chaos and doesn’t really care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants and stays entertained. Where Brian is literally a superhero to his loved ones, Boston is just a very flawed human being. 

But Shan, I hear you saying, I thought you liked Boston! I do, besties, I do. He’s a fantastic character and a very real kind of person many of us encounter in our 20s. Because that’s the thing: Boston is so young. He hasn’t developed any sense of responsibility to others or any understanding of the importance of queer community, and he has never had to take care of himself, which is perhaps the biggest difference between him and Brian. Brian has lived independently for more than a decade when we meet him in QaF, whereas Boston is a spoiled rich kid who has barely lived. Brian is a fully realized adult and his more nuanced characterization is a reflection of that; Boston is actually a pretty basic chaotic drama queen who will grow up eventually. 

TL;DR: Aside from being promiscuous, Boston has very little in common with Brian Kinney. He is more a reflection of a very real kind of person you will meet on the scene in queer communities than an homage to a larger than life fictional QaF character. And while OF is absolutely referencing some of the themes and values and stylistic flourishes of QaF, it is not making direct parallels to its characters. 

[bloody-cupcakes]

Yandere/dark! Allison Reynolds x reader; she grows obsessed with you after becoming your friend

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, soft yandere (she's surprisingly innocent given everything), swearing, stalking, stealing/casual theft, brief crude language, switchblade mention, the reader is either oblivious to her strange behaviors or just doesn't care

Allison was used to being alone. Her parents neglected her and the only person she was even remotely companions with was Brian, so she filled a lot of her free time daydreaming and picking up random hobbies.

Until you came along, that is. You were new, having just moved with your family, so you hadn't been sucked into any one specific group based solely on your perceived popularity yet.

You caught her eye the moment you showed up, but she didn't have high hopes when it came to becoming friends with you. I mean, you were just so cool, surely you'd end up hanging out with the snobby rich kids or egotiscal jocks. Imagine her surprise when you sat down next to her at lunch on your very first day.

"Is this seat taken?"

Usually she'd tell whoever it was to fuck off, but you seemed nice. Like, actually nice, not the kind of nice where another person your age is only hanging out with you to be polite or because their parents asked them to.

She shook her head no, watching through her shaggy bangs as you took a seat across from her.

"I like your hair."

Anyone else and she would've scoffed with annoyance, knowing they were just being sarcastic, but the genuine look of friendliness in your eyes told her you were telling the truth.

"Thanks. I cut it myself." Her voice was soft and quiet like usual, but you didn't seem put off by it.

"Well, I like it. I think it's really cute."

A blush formed on her face, her usual pale cheeks a rosy red. No one had ever complimented her before. "Um, thank you."

The smile you gave her almost made her melt. "You're welcome."

It was crazy of her to become so attached so quickly, but she just couldn't help it. You were so nice to her, always sitting with her at lunch and giving out random compliments. Even after you made your own group of friends, you'd always invite her to tag along or even just cancel your plans altogether just so you could spend more time with her.

Everything she did started to revolve around you. Every decision she made, ever thought she had. What she wore to school, what book she shoved in her bag before leaving the house in the morning, what sketches she did. You seemed to really like her landscapes, so she drew more of those. You complimented her eyes, so she began to wear her hair back.

One time she overheard one of your "friends" mocking you for hanging out with her, to which you simply replied "she's cool, and obviously a much better person than you are since you think it's okay to talk about someone behind their back". She nearly creamed her pants on the spot.

The lonely days got even lonelier when she wasn't with you, so she decided to pick up on a new hobby: stalking. It wasn't that hard to figure out where you'd be on any given day, as she'd stolen your pocket calender and copied down the contents way back when you first met.

Sometimes your plans would change last minute, but that did nothing to dissuade her, not in the slightest. She always kept several pens in her bag so she could write down any new or changed information for where you'd be. Not in a creepy way, of course. More like in a protective way.

I mean, sure, Allison was pretty scrawny, so there's no way she'd be able to actually beat anyone up, but she felt it was still important to follow you in case you did find yourself in trouble and somehow needed a helping hand. And if push were to come to shove, she still had the switchblade she'd stolen from Bender in detention that one day.

She liked to think of herself as your guardian angel, even if that didn't make any sense. If you ever did need help with something, she'd be there to take care of it, no problem. In reality, you were more like her protector than the other way around, always sticking up for her when your friends decided to be assholes and never once blowing her off whenever she bumped into you in the school hallways.

You kind of knew how obsessed with you she was but it never seemed to bother you. In fact, you kind of encouraged it, shrugging off and dismissiving her stealing your things and following you around by insisting she was just like that. She had separation anxiety, she couldn't help it.

Every time you went out of your way to defend her she felt her heart swell in size, something that she never ever felt with anything else. You really were her best friend, and she'd do anything to keep it that way, even if it meant crossing the occasional moral line.

[strangersteddierthings]

Writing Prompt for this list, requested by @suddenlyinlove. #42. "His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow." and #30. “Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

Details - This is an AU with a twist I don't wanna spoil so like... suspend your disbelief please. Period-typical homophobia and thus, the use of slurs derogatorily. Stir clear if that is triggering.

Posted on Ao3 because it is long (9.7k) and it might be easier to read there for some.

-

August 25, 1984 - Two Days Before the Start of School

There's a good view of the whole party from their dark corner of the yard, where Jeff, Gareth, and Brian are huddled around him. Eddie'd told Carol Perkins he'd show but only if his friends could come, too. If she wanted weed, then his friends could have beer.

Plus, if he was going to suffer, they were going to suffer. That's what friendship was about.

"His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow," Eddie mutters, glaring in the general direction of Steve 'The Hair' Harrington as he laughs at something (he's clutching his beer awfully tight for someone having fun- Nope, Eddie doesn't care).

"Right? Can see it ballooning right before our eyes," Jeff says. This is why Jeff is his best friend. They hate on the same things. People. Whatever.

"Sorry for you guys," Eddie fakes sympathy, "once I graduate, I won't have to deal with it. Let me know if anyone shoves you into a locker though. I'll slash some tires or refuse to sale 'em weed. Whichever hurts them more."

"You said that last year," Gareth says. "And yet."

Eddie pretends to stab himself in the heart, falling to the ground dramatically, gasping like he was dying before finally stilling, staring as unblinking as he could at the sky.

Jeff nudges him with his foot, "good riddance, Munson. People will remember you weirdly."

Eddie breaks character to grin up, lifting a hand that Jeff takes and helps pull him up. "Remembered weirdly is what it's all about."

"Speaking of weird, Harrington's being... weird," Gareth says, tilting his head slightly, still looking in the direction they'd all been looking at just moments before. "When you just dropped he like... I dunno. Weird."

"What, weird how. What did he do?" Eddie whips to look at Harrington, who is looking back, looking worried, and is slightly closer than he was before. Eddie watches as Harrington's eyes track his entire self, looking for what, Eddie can't even begin to understand. He can visibly see the tension leave Harrington's body, pretty sure even his friends clocked that (even though they have less experience in the Harrington-watching department than himself).

"When you dropped, he like... rushed forward. I think he caught how fucking weird that would be for him to do 'cause he stopped just as quickly. That's weird, right?"

"Really fucking weird."

Harrington steps back into his friend group, more on the outside than he was before. (Did seem like people loved Hargrove a bit more than Harrington these days).

Eddie and his friends go back to trash talking everyone they can set their eyes on. It's easy to do, what with being ignored in the corner again. Occasionally Eddie is flagged down by someone, or they try and make eye contact (which is worse), so he huffs as though put upon and marches off to a different corner of the Perkins' backyard to sale his contraband.

(If he's marking it up, well, these rich kids can afford it.)

Anyway, their trash talk always seems to come back to Harrington. None of them acknowledge it out loud but Harrington's the easiest to shit talk in public because he's the safest. He's egotistical, kinda airheaded, and an asshole, but in a different way than Hagan or Jackson or most of the other jocks.

Harrington is the kind of asshole that you introduce yourself to 15 times and unless you're 'popular' he doesn't bother to remember he's already met you. Hagan and Jackson are assholes that give you a swirlee if you sneeze wrong near them, or will call you a fag before gut punching you behind the bleachers because they think they caught you staring at them (which Eddie was not ((It was Harrington he was staring at)).

He's safe to shit talk because he doesn't get physical (couldn't win a fight if the rumors were true (Also they all saw how he looked after Jonathan got him)) and rarely gets confrontational (less so with each passing year). Eddie thinks that's his ego - he's so full of himself that anything you say about him can't possibly affect him. (What are the words of a peasant in the face of a king, after all?)

That's not to say they haven't fucked up and said something at just the right time to provoke Harrington in the past, because they all have, but it's typically his lackeys that jump in defense, that say something first to defend Harrington. And The King will let them bark and growl just enough to put the peasants back in their place, calming his dogs with words of 'they're not worth it' and 'if what he said meant anything it would have hurt, wouldn't it?' which is just rude. Like Eddie and his friends aren't even people capable of drawing Harrington's attention, much less his wrath.

If Eddie's honest with himself (he's not), he would stop to question why he even wants to provoke a reaction from Harrington (it's because of his stupid crush), but Eddie's not honest so...

The point is, they feel pretty comfortable trash talking Harrington in hushed whispers to themselves in a corner of Carol Perkins' yard.

"Do you think he, like, genuinely thinks he looks cool when he does that?" Gareth whispers as they watch Harrington shotgun a beer, again.

"Dunno, probab-" Jeff cuts himself off, a quizzical expression on his face as he turns his head to look towards the Perkins' house. He's got ears that pick up everything, so Eddie just watches as he moves away from the group to the fence. Watches as Jeff jumps to look over. When he lands, he flips quickly back to them, looking between them and the group of party goers. He takes a moment, assessing his options it seems, before cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, "Cops in bound! Just turned onto the street!"

The party starts scattering instantly, teens running in all directions.

Brian and Gareth eye the back fence and Eddie knows immediately they're not going to jump it. Eddie throws Gareth the keys to his van, "get Jeff and go."

They don't argue, they've done this song and dance before. Eddie knows they might get a stern talking to for smelling like beer but if Eddie's in the van with them, they're all ending up in jail because of what's in his lunchbox. (Hell, they'd still get a night in jail instead of just a warning for the beer if Eddie's in the van without the lunchbox).

Eddie's not the most athletic but he's gotta run. He tosses his lunchbox over the back fence before hauling himself up, one leg over and trying to get the other when he gets high-centered for a moment before gravity starts to pull him down (thankfully on the correct side of the fence) only to find the chain on his jeans catches along something at the top, leaving him to cling quickly to the fence, praying he can muster enough upper body strength to haul himself back up enough to unstick the chain before the cops get here. He tries to readjust and his hand slips, he can't get any leverage. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He's so screwed. Officer Callihan said if he was caught again, he'd be tried as an adult. Wayne's going to kill him. Why won't these stupid jeans just rip, how has the chain not given way yet? He's going to get caught with his lunchbox right at his feet. He's-

Being shoved back up, someone's shoulder digging painfully into his ribcage to get the leverage needed for Eddie's body to be high enough for the stranger's hand to sneak up and unstick the chain. Eddie expects to be dumped suddenly and unceremoniously on the ground but this does not happen. Instead, his mysterious hero manages to keep him pinned up on the fence long enough to turn themselves so both of the stranger's arms are under Eddie and then they kind of just... sink together, using the fence as a counterweight by leaning into but not actually dragging Eddie down against it.

The culmination of which ends with Eddie being held like some blushing bride in Steve Harrington's lap. Eddie opens his mouth to say... something. What, he doesn't know, but Harrington lifts a finger to his lips to signal him to be quiet. So, he stays quiet, heart pounding.

It takes about five full seconds before the sounds of the cops busting the party actually start, the sirens on the cars flipping on to let the scattering teens know they've been caught. In that same instance, Harrington sweeps up Eddie's lunch box and shoves it onto his chest, where one of Eddie's hands comes up to wrap around and hold it close on instinct, the sound the metal handle clanging on the metal lid meaningless in all the other sounds happening.

Using his other hand, Harrington basically folds Eddie forward and out of his lap, back on his own feet in a crouch. Harrington shoves his chin forward, a silent instruction to move but Eddie's still wrapping his head around the fact he's no longer dangling from a wooden fence like an idiot, so Harrington steps forward, a hand wrapping around the wrist of Eddie's free hand, forcing him to follow along as they stealth along the wooden fence of the Perkins' residence, then the fence of the neighbors, and finally a third neighbor before the fences run off and all that's left is the woods that boarder the town one way, and a way back to the road on the other.

Eddie should pull his wrist free and book it, run as fast and as far from Harrington and this party as he can get but he's kind of star struck right now (he can be a little honest with himself, as a treat). He just follows, lets Harrington jerk him around (don't even think it Munson, do not think about it-) and follows quietly.

Harrington peeks around the end of the fence, looking for any incoming trouble, Eddie assumes, and quickly jerks back, looking to Eddie, "you trust me, man?"

And Eddie, the idiot, says, "Yeah, man."

Harrington grabs his lunchbox, ripping it away from him with ease (Eddie's still star struck, okay?) and shoves it up against the fence, twisting his body as he does, so he ends up sitting with his back to this fence, body blocking sight of the lunchbox before pulling Eddie into his lap.

This is what brings Eddie back into his body. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Just don't punch me until I get the cop that's gonna round the fence any time now to go away."

Eddie could bolt but he's not particularly fast, so he'd be caught, and he knows the odds. Between himself and Harrington, they'll book him and let Harrington go with a warning. So, Harrington thinks he can get the cop to go away? Okay. He lets Harrington manhandle him (don't think it don'tthinkit don't-) He's absolutely thinking it because Harrington grabs his ass and pulls him flush against him before a hand cups the back of his head and shoves his face into Harrington's neck, and then Harrington whispers in his ear, "just pretend we've been making out back here for the last half hour."

Fuck! Harrington's trying to get him shot by the goddamn police. He is an idiot and should have known better than to trust him. Well. If Harrington thinks he can get away from this unscathed, he's sorely mistaken. Eddie lifts his hands to ruffle Harrington's perfect hair before gripping it roughly with one hand, the other moving to brace himself on the fence, then he latches onto Harrington's neck, intent on giving Harrington the biggest, ugliest hickie of his life. Try and explain that away you asshole.

Except Harrington's reaction isn't what Eddie had thought it would be. Instead of being shoved, the hands on his ass and in his hair squeeze, seemingly trying to get Eddie closer and that is definitely a moan his hears, breathed directly into his ear. It eggs Eddie on a bit, truthfully, so he pulls back a little, less set on just marking Harrington and a little more set on seeing if he can make Harrington actually enjoy it.

Eddie presses kisses over the bit of skin he'd just bit like a wild animal and runs his tongue up to gently pull at Harrington's earlobe, before kissing his way back down to suck at the same spot some more. Harrington keeps switching from squeezing at him to petting him and Eddie's not really going to complain. The police can come shoot him. He'll die- well, not happy but at least alright.

"Jesus Christ, kid!"

Eddie tries to jerk away, a reflex because that's Chief Hopper's voice and he's so fucking screwed, but Harrington keeps him moored there, face hidden, hand cradling his head more gently than it has been thus far, the hand on his ass moving up to his lower back, holding him closer... dare he say, protectively.

"Hopper," Harrington sounds more calm than Eddie thought he would, "hi."

Eddie wishes he could see what is happening because there is an awful lot of silence going on in which he can only assume Hopper and Harrington are staring at each other. (Having a silent conversation, perhaps?)

Then the heaviest sigh he's ever heard from Chief Hopper (and he's heard some heavy ones in his days) greets the air, "I don't want to know who that is. Just this once, I am going to pretend I didn't see you here. You'd think that you would learn- Next time you and your boyfriend sneak away from a party to- just go to his house. Jesus, if it had been anyone but me walking around this corner... Give it about twenty minutes before you leave." The sound of retreating footsteps and Hopper's voice reporting in his walkie an 'all clear' follow those words.

They don't part immediately. Eddie waits until the footsteps cannot be heard before pulling back. Harrington makes no move to remove his hands from Eddie's person, so as a result the hand that was in Eddie's hair falls to his shoulder, then his chest, where it rests now that he's back far enough to look at Harrington. The moon is bright, and Eddie's eyes have adjusted to the dark of the evening, so he can see Harrington's face. "How the fuck did that just work?"

Harrington gives an almost hysterical sounding giggle before he tries to drop his head back to rest on the fence. He can't successfully do that, because Eddie realizes he's still cradling Harrington's head with one hand.

He makes no motion to move his hand, just holds Harrington's head up as he seems to be going through... something right now.

It takes several minutes, but finally he speaks. "It's kinda personal. Let's just say, Hopper and I got history, a- well, a good history isn't how I'd put it, but like, we're on the same page with it."

"Did you fuck Hopper?"

Harrington laughs out loud and Eddie slaps his other hand (the one not currently petting his soft, soft hair) over his mouth to muffle the noise. That sobers Harrington a little, remembering the 'wait twenty minutes' thing and once it seems like he's got it together again, Eddie removes his hand.

"No. Nothing like that with Hopper."

Eddie's a bit hung up on that fact Harrington is not immediately shouting that he's not a fag and would never have slept with the chief of police, a man. "You're really not gonna tell me."

"No."

They just kind of look at each other after that. Eddie's not sure what to do now. He should get out of Harrington's lap, right? That's a thing he should definitely be doing right now.

But.

But Harrington isn't shoving him off. In fact, his eyes are half closed as he stares at Eddie, eyes occasionally flicking up to meet his own, so Eddie feels like he can confidently say King Steve is looking at his lips. Eddie licks his lips, a test of sorts.

Harrington passes, because his tongue flicks out to lick his own lips.

"Hey, Eddie," (what the fuck. Harrington has never, not once, said his name, and Eddie has re-introduced himself several times.) "I want to kiss you. Can I?"

Oh.

Eddie's never been asked that before.

Gross. Eddie's got fucking butterflies in his stomach from Steve fucking Harrington.

Eddie wants to say yes so fucking bad but- well, his whole world view of Steve Harrington has just been rocked and now a ball of guilt is forming inside him for how he's marked up Harrington's neck like a wanton slut and Harrington asks for a kiss. But Harrington is also, at minimum, five beers in plus the weed, so he's clearly not thinking straight (ha fucking ha) because he wouldn't be asking him for a kiss if he was.

"No," Eddie says softly, "you're drunk. If you still wanna kiss me in the daylight, ask then."

Harrington scrunches his face and Eddie doesn't know him well enough to decipher what that look means, but he nods, sitting up so he can lean forward and nuzzle his face into Eddie's chest, bumping the top of his head against Eddie's chin like a cat.

Eddie leans his head atop Harrington's and lets himself be cuddled.

What a weird fucking night.

-

"Jeff!" Eddie flings himself on his friend's couch the next day, face down in the cushions, his voice mumbled as he continues, "I don't know what to do."

Jeff, ever patient with Eddie, just folds his legs at the knee and sits on the couch, dropping his legs back down and into his lap. "The way I see it, you do nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You sound extra pathetic mumbling into the couch. Nothing. If Harrington wants to kiss you, he'll ask again. If he doesn't, or tries to turn this on you, remind him he's the one that let another boy mark him up. You don't know if you can trust him."

Eddie musters all his strength to turn his head to the side so he can breath again. "You're right. As usual."

"Try not to sound so annoyed and disappointed."

"I should trust the Munson doctrine. If it's too good to be true, then it's not true," Eddie says as he wiggles forward, out of Jeff's lap and onto his knees, shuffling around until he's sitting cross-legged on the center cushion.

"Maybe, maybe not. Like, we know Harrington's an asshole but he's not mean," Jeff says. "besides, maybe being dumped by Nancy Wheeler for Jonathan Byers might have shaken some decency into him. Humility, even."

Suppose they'll learn if that's true tomorrow. "You can't tell anyone what I told you."

"Duh. Blackmail only works if the leverage you have is still a secret."

-

“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Brian all look up at the same time. Harrington isn't even holding a lunch tray, hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket, striped polo tucked into light wash jeans under his opened jacket, Eddie's hickie only half hidden by the polo's collar.

Eddie's eyes scan the cafeteria quickly. Hawkins is a small town, so it stands to reason the schools are too. There are literal, completely empty tables. So, Eddie's eyes go to the table Harrington usually sits at.

Ah.

Everyone there is looking over. Watching. Waiting, probably. This is the trick. The joke. If Eddie lets him sit, they've pegged him for the desperate fag they all tell him he is.

"'Fraid this table is full, too," Eddie says, careful to sound bored as he says it, looking directly at Harrington.

Harrington's eyes widen slightly, like he hadn't expected Eddie to deny him. Well, joke backfired, buddy.

"I.... see," Harrington says slowly. "My mistake."

And they all watch him leave with such little fanfare that Eddie's wondering if he misread the situation. Was Harrington actually wanting to sit with them- but no. He watches as Harrington returns to his table, to the royalty of Hawkins High. Hagan says something to him and Harrington just shrugs with one shoulder before plopping onto the bench.

They wait for Harrington to start up conversation, for the leering and mocking to start up but it doesn't. Harrington just sits there in silence.

"What... was that?" Gareth asks, looking away from the Royalty to look at Eddie.

"Got no idea," Eddie lies, even as Jeff is leveling him with a look he refuses to acknowledge.

-

November 7th, 1984

Harrington was absent yesterday (not that Eddie keeps track) and now here Harrington is, slinking into the American History class they share for first period, face busted to shit. Eddie does a double take because he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him but no. Harrington looks worse than when Jonathan got him.

Eddie spends the first twenty minutes of class just watching Harrington. Harrington slides into his chair and keeps his head down, eyes closed most of the time. Every now and then he winces and drops his head into his hands, palms digging into eyes. He looks bad.

Then Harrington goes a little green around the gills and looks like he's forcing himself to swallow down vomit and Eddie's done watching the sad display. "Hey, Miss Click, I think Harrington's gonna lose his breakfast all over the back of Thompson if he doesn't get outta here soon."

Miss Click looks like she's gonna give him detention again but then she looks at Harrington and must agree with his assessment. "Help him to the nurses office, Eddie."

Normally Eddie would argue but Harrington is also looking at him now and he really wants to know what happened so instead of arguing, he stands. Harrington does, too, grabbing his bag from the floor and shuffling towards the door.

The halls are empty and Steve makes it maybe ten feet down the hall before he falls against the lockers, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Come on, Harrington," Eddie grabs his backpack from him and shoulders it, then pulls one of Harrington's arms around him. "Just keep your eyes closed. I won't walk you into any walls."

"Thanks."

It's so quiet, Eddie's not sure he was even meant to hear it. They walk in silence a bit more before Eddie asks, "so, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, sure. Nothing causes this all the time."

"What'd'ya care."

Fair. That's fair. He shut Harrington down quickly at the beginning of the year. And Eddie's had plenty of time to concede it might have been the wrong thing to do. Harrington really wasn't setting him up to be a joke, or a punching bag, because if he had been, Eddie would have been jumped by now. Especially since it's fairly common knowledge that Harrington has fallen from grace, replaced by Billy Hargrove. A whole asshole and a half, that one.

They're silent all the way to nurse and even after Harrington vanishes behind the door, Eddie loiters in the hall. He doesn't care about getting back to class. Whatever is happening with Harrington is so much more important.

Another period later and Harrington is shoving himself through the door, even as the nurse protests behind him.

"I'll be fine, really. I'm sure my mom's not answering because she's not near the phone. There's no need to worry," Harrington catches sight of Eddie then. He looks surprised, but says to the nurse, "Eddie here will drive me home. I promise I won't be driving with a concussion."

She looks past Harrington to Eddie and he finds himself nodding frantically. The nurse, not paid enough to argue with teenagers, nods back and Harrington escapes back into the hall without argument.

"You need a ride?"

"I can drive myself."

"Absolutely not. You just said you were concussed."

Harrington looks like he wants to argue more but before he can, he folds a bit into himself, hands pressing into eyes again.

"Look, I owe you anyway, alright. Let me repay."

There's a long silence, then, "okay."

Eddie walks into Gareth's third period class and deposits the keys to his van to him with instructions to pick him up from Harrington's after school (Jeff is his best friend, but Gareth is the safer driver) before helping Harrington limp his way to his own car, where he hands over his keys very forlornly and climbs into his car. Eddie takes the driver's seat and they're off.

"You gonna give me directions, Harrington?"

"You've been to my house before."

This is true. He just didn't know Harrington remembered that. Hagan had invited Eddie to deal there, once; Harrington himself, twice. He didn't know Harrington had even remembered he was there. "Didn't know you remembered that."

"You've been to my house four times."

"Three."

Harrington lull his head to the side to squint (is he trying to glare?) at Eddie. "Four."

Four? Eddie didn't remember- oh. Harrington's ninth birthday party. Eddie was invited, one of the few who hadn't been in Harrington's class to get an invitation. He was in fifth grade, Harrington in fourth. It was shortly after Wayne had brought him to Hawkins.

"Your birthday party. Why'd you even invite me to that?"

Harrington doesn't answer.

-

"I thought you said your mom was home," Eddie says as he follows Harrington into his house.

"I lied."

"Clearly," Eddie says, looking around as he continues to follow Harrington upstairs.

Harrington just allows it, which Eddie wants to question but won't because he's working out how to apologize for the first day of school without apologizing.

"If you're here alone, who's waking you up to make sure you aren't dead?"

"No one. And clearly, I am not dead."

"Someone's supposed to wake you every few hours, right?"

Harrington shrugs. "Don't need anyone to. Why, were you gonna offer?"

Was he? No. Maybe. He follows him all the way to his plaid hellscape of a room, watches as Harrington flicks on his light, then tries to block the sunlight with his sad curtains and gives up quickly, opting to toe himself out of his shoes and crawl under his covers instead.

It's fucking pathetic.

Eddie leaves Harrington's room to start opening and closing doors around the upstairs. Rich people always have a- yes! A linen closet. Eddie pulls out the darkest towels and heads back to Harrington's room.

"You got tacks or nails or safety pins?"

Harrington pokes his head out from beneath his covers, squinting at Eddie. "Tacks in the cup on the dresser." then he disappears again. Quite an awfully lot of freedom Harrington seems to be giving him. He could be snooping through things.

He doesn't, though (yet). He uses almost all of the tacks to get the towels to stay up, but no sunlight breaches them when he's done. Then he turns off the light and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack, before sitting himself on the edge of Harrington's bed.

"I owe you an apology, Harrington," Eddie finds himself saying. Fuck. He was trying to do this without having to actually do it. Too late now.

"Oh," he hears in the near darkness Harrington's surprise, feels shuffling as Harrington must be moving to look at him. "Erm, why do you think you owe me an apology."

"For the first day of school. I thought- I thought it was a prank. Or a joke. A cruel one."

Eddie turns to see Harrington peering at him, just his nose and up visible, hair a static ruffled mess, the comforter held in place by one hand. "It wasn't."

"I know that now," Eddie whispers, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. "I just- I'm sorry. I did want you to sit."

Silence. Then, "I get it, Eddie. I wouldn't trust me either."

"I said I trusted you, that night," Eddie says, "and I did. I do? I think... I didn't trust myself, I think, enough to believe that you were truly being genuine with me. I was shitty to you. So, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Harrington says, "I'm gonna go to sleep now, my head is killing me. If you're hungry help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen. You're missing lunch period."

"You gonna sleep in your jeans?"

"Too much work to remove 'em," Harrington mumbles.

"Undo your belt and jeans."

"How forward," Harrington has an eyebrow raised.

"Just do it, ya tool," Eddie says with more bravado than he feels. He slides off the bed and watches the comforter shift as Harrington does as he's told. Eddie rounds to the end of the bed, pulling up the comforter and reaching under blind, finding Harrington's legs and trailing up to his knees to grasp of the jeans. "For your modesty. Lift your hips." Harrington does, and Eddie pulls. Harrington drops his hips back down once the jeans are near his knees, lifting his legs slightly instead, allowing Eddie to pull them off and drop them on the floor at the end of the bed. "Alright, sleep it off, Harrington."

Eddie leaves him to wander to the kitchen because he is hungry and missing lunch, and this free food is going to be infinitely better than whatever the cafeteria was offering simply because it's free.

The fridge has some leftovers in it, so Eddie helps himself to leftover chicken and mashed potatoes. He eats it standing in the kitchen.

Once done, he explores Castle Harrington. A big kitchen leads to a dining room, which rounds to a large living room with a wall of windows that lookout to the pool. Eddie's familiar with the backyard, where he'd station up and wait for people to buy. There's a little hall that leads from the living room to the stairs and front door, with another hall alone the middle of the wall there. It leads to a bathroom and a rec room, complete with pool table (fucking rich people) and another door farther still. It's locked but Eddie's a snoop, so he flips the latch and opens. It's an empty garage.

Eddie ends up removing his shoes, denim vest, and leather jacket, flopping down on Harrington's couch to channel surf, though his eyes keep flicking down to his watch. At the one-hour mark he sneaks back up to Harrington's room and looks for signs of life. Easy enough, Harrington snores.

He checks each hour. Eventually Gareth shows up, signaling his arrival with three sharp jabs to the horn of Eddie's van. Eddie heads out without putting anything back on.

"I'm staying. Harrington is not- it's not good, dude," Eddie says. "Looks like he got beat worse than I did when took a chance behind The Hideout."

Gareth's eyes go wide. Eddie'd gotten beaten for being gay (a busted lip and bruised ribs; would have been worse if the owner of The Hideout hadn't been stepping out back to smoke and ended up chasing away Eddie's assailant). "What happened?"

Eddie shrugs. "Don't know. But I gotta find out. I think he was being genuine with us, on the first day of school. I feel like I have to make sure he's okay."

Jeff leans forward to peer around Gareth from the passenger seat. "You feeling guilty, Munson?"

This is a conversation they've had several times. One Eddie never wins. "Well, yeah. If I'd let him be our friend, he might not have been wherever he was when he got the shit beat out of him. Might have been watching us at band practice or something instead."

Gareth makes a gagging noise. "Ew. You've got it so bad for Harrington. Polos? That's what gets you hot and bothered?"

Eddie feels his face go red. "Fuck off."

"Don't fuck up this time, Eddie," Jeff says before sitting back out of view.

"Call if you need a ride to school tomorrow," Gareth says before reversing out of Harrington's driveway.

Eddie waits until Harrington's gotten a full eight hours (most of which he spends snooping about the place) before going to wake him up. "Hey, you gotta get some food in you, I think. Up, up."

Harrington groans, but it sounds more annoyed than pained.

"Up, up, up, up," Eddie repeats, swatting lightly at Harrington's legs, occasionally grabbing to jiggle a leg.

"'m up. I'm up," Harrington says, sounding more like himself than he has all day. "Have you always been this annoying?"

"Call it the Munson Charm."

"Charm," Harrington repeats flatly.

"I already ate your mashed potatoes, so I'm hoping you're not wanting those for dinner. Lunch? Whatever."

Harrington throws the covers off, standing before Eddie in a polo shirt and plaid boxers. "Hey, Eddie. It's still daytime out there, yeah?"

"Yeah, didn't miss it."

"Cool, cool. Can I kiss you?"

Eddie freezes, remembering that's what he'd told Harrington to do. Ask him in the daylight. He does still want to kiss Harrington, but also, he's afraid. "First you ask drunk. Now you ask concussed. Still a no, buddy. It's gotta be daylight and without anything that could be messing with your mind."

Harrington takes the rejection well, just nods an okay and motions towards his door for Eddie to lead the way to the kitchen.

Harrington opts for a TV dinner, offering one to Eddie. He accepts, because, again, free food. Then they eat them at the dinner table like it's a real meal, instead of off of TV trays in the living room like normal people.

And the odd thing about it all is how not odd all of it is, actually. The last time they were alone together, Eddie ravished his neck like a goddamn vampire. And now they're just hanging out, chatting ideally like it's a thing they do all the time.

Eddie can see why Harrington became popular so quickly. He's easy to like when he's like this, soft spoken and kind. Eddie finds he wants to know if the guy sitting across from him is the real Harrington, or an act. Or was King Harrington the act? Eddie really hasn't known him enough to say that but he's seen this house. Conformity seems important to the Harringtons.

"You looked like you could use something to cheer you up," Harrington says, out of left field.

"What?"

"It's why I invited you to my ninth birthday. You'd just transferred to our school. Looked so sad all the time. Eight-year-old me hadn't experienced a sad birthday party, so I thought it would cheer you up."

Oh. "That's-" what is that? Sweet? Considerate in a way Eddie didn't think young Harrington possible of? "It worked. Your party was fun."

Harrington smiles at him, a soft and shy thing that makes the butterflies erupt in his stomach again. "Well, thanks for watching over me today. Made it easier to sleep, having someone else in the house."

"Anytime."

"You mean that?"

Does he? Eddie can't promise even himself that it will always be true, that he does really mean anytime, but it's true right now so he says, "yeah, man."

-

Being friends with Steve Harrington is so much easier than Eddie thought it could be.

Steve -because he's Steve now, not Harrington- doesn't come back to school the rest of the week, but he makes Eddie go, asking if he can gather his homework from his classes so he won't fall behind. And school has never been a real priority for Eddie (it is his second senior year) but hanging out with Steve has become important.

Jeff, Gareth, and Brian even come over on Saturday evening, at Steve's insistence. He wants to be their friend, too, it seems. And what an odd thing to see, his friends and Steve lounging around his rec room, Brian beating all of them at pool so easily it should be humiliating. Steve chats with them all like it's easy, normal, a thing he enjoys doing.

He can see his friends keeping the topics safe, music, high school gossip, they even start to discuss their grades. Eddie is mostly listening because he's been chatting with Steve all week, so he can see his friends are steering clear of anything other. They don't bring up anything Steve wouldn't talk to other jocks about.

Leave it to Steve to throw them for a loop. "Hey, you guys are all in Hellfire, right?"

The room screeches to a stop, all eyes going to Steve. He's not sure what's showing on his own face, but he can see all his friend's faces. They look surprised.

"Yeah," Jeff finds his voice first. "We're the only members."

Steve nods, "right. You play Dungeons and Dragons?"

"You know what Dungeons and Dragons is?" Brian asks.

"Yeah," Steve shrugs, fiddling with the beer can in his hands, "I know that, it's like -Hellfire, that is-, a high school club but- oh, this is gonna sound bad. I can tell already."

Eddie raises an eyebrow, curious, "just say it, Harrington. If we don't like it, there's four of us and one of you. We'll give you a swirlee in your own damn toilet."

Steve laughs and that seems to be all the push he needed because he relaxes, setting the beer down on a coaster, "I know some super cool kids who'll be freshman next year. I think they'd really want to be in your club. But, uh, since Eddie and I will be graduating this year, I was wondering if you'd want to move your game from the school to here? So they can join in."

Eddie's brain shuts off. Steve knows some cool middle schoolers, who play Dungeons and Dragons, and thinks the should all come to Steve's house to do that. Play DnD together. (Steve also believes he's going to graduate this year, ha!)

"I'm sorry," Jeff says, laughter in his voice, "there's no such things as cool middle schoolers."

Steve frowns slightly, "well, these will be the first, then. They've got their own DM, his name's Will, but I think he could learn a lot from Eddie. And Dustin loves this game so much. But if they wait until next year to officially join the club, Eddie won't be there."

Steve knows that Eddie is the DM. Steve knows what a DM is. (Steve really believes he's going to graduate this year?). "How- what? How do you even know about Hellfire? Or that I'm the DM?"

"I go to school with you guys," Steve says, "I know I'm an asshole but I'm not oblivious. Just because I didn't acknowledge the existence of your club before now doesn't mean I was unaware of it."

Fair point.

"Alright. Let's have our next club meeting here instead of the school. You can bring these cool middle schoolers and we'll see. If they're just lame middle schoolers, we're going to be very disappointed."

"Great! You meet Thursdays, right? They'll be here."

-

Monday is the real test. Eddie's feeling some kind of way about Monday. It's lunch, and everyone is already at their usual tables except Steve, who hasn't arrived yet.

Jeff catches his eye and Eddie can see he's thinking the same thing. It was easy to be friends with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson behind closed doors and in front of people already his friend. But if Steve actually comes through those doors and sits at their table, he'll be a target. Fully and officially.

Of course, Eddie catches sight of Steve as soon as he does come in, sack lunch in hand. He watches as Steve doesn't even hesitate. He weaves his way around other teens and plops down at their table, into the space left available for him between Eddie and Gareth. Watches as Steve beams at him before pulling a fucking pb&j out of his stupid brown sack.

Eddie can hear the murmuring around them, catches Steve's name and his own, knows that they've all been noticed today. The outcome of what will happen because of this, unknown.

Eddie doesn't like the unknown.

He might be willing to face it, though, if Steve keeps smiling at him.

-

The week passes. No one says anything to him. Steve sits at their table every day.

Thursday comes and he gets to meet some pretty cool middle schoolers, though unexpected ones. Will, the DM, turns out to be Will Byers, who was dead and then not dead and also the little brother of the guy who beat Steve up and stole his girlfriend (what the hell sparked this kids friendship with Steve?). Mike Wheeler, little brother of said ex-girlfriend. Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson are the last two. Eddie has never heard of these two, and therefore doesn't have any opinions just yet.

The kids know their stuff but they don't end up playing. Character creation takes some time, and Eddie's gotta think about how to incorporate four new characters (he was expecting one lame middle schooler, even though Steve had used the plural of kid every time he talked about them).

Before they all head out, Steve asks to talk to Eddie.

"Hey, I just- if the kids get into other after school activities, would you be okay with moving the date of the club meeting? My house is available every day, not just school days."

What an odd request. "I guess? Why?"

Steve shrugs (but it's a shrug Eddie has come to know doesn't mean 'I don't know' and means something closer to 'I have a perfectly valid explanation for this but don't know how to put it into words so it's easier to say I don't know') and says, "some school activities can't be rescheduled. It's be kinda shitty to make them miss this by forcing them to chose."

"There's a story there. I want to know it."

Steve looks at him, open in a way that Eddie hasn't experienced. "I want to tell you. But I'm not ready for that. Not yet. Now, go home and do your damn homework. I gotta drop these kids off."

-

December 21st, 1984 - Christmas Break

"I can't believe you did Dustin's hair for their Snowball dance," Eddie says as they watch Jeff, Gareth, Brian, Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin pile into Eddie's van after a rare, afternoon meeting of Hellfire. Gareth offered to take everyone home (maybe Eddie had to beg him to do it so he could stay and bother Steve, but that's between him and Gareth).

"He deserves a good older role model. I try to be that person," Steve says, and before Eddie can mock him for being egotistical, he continues, "that's why I wanted them to meet you, I guess, back in November. Dustin deserves a role model who understands the things he likes. Dustin needs you."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that, so he just walks to the living room, grabbing the remote and settling in on the couch. Steve joins him shortly, sitting next to him rather than at the other end of the couch.

"You finish your homework?"

"Oh my god, mom," Eddie rolls his whole head dramatically, "no. I'll get it done eventually."

"Eddie," Steve says, sounding serious. Eddie turns to him, and Steve reaches out, grabbing one of Eddies hands, slotting their fingers together and Eddie feels those damn butterflies he's so used to these days. "I want to graduate with you. We can have a joint graduation party here. But that can't happen if you don't do your homework."

Eddie looks at Steve, feeling more seen than he's ever been in his life. His hand clutches back at Steve's. "Yeah. Okay. I'll graduate with you. Class of '85."

"Joint party?"

This is Eddie's chance to ask the question he's been itching to ask. "Your parent's won't mind you sharing with the resident freak?"

"My parents won't be here. They send me a card with a letter to take to their local accountant, who will arrange for a graduation cake to be delivered on a date of my choosing and give me money to host whatever kinda party I want. And what I want, is a joint party."

"You sound so sure of that."

"I am," Steve says, looking away to stare towards the TV, "I know the exact date they'll be in town between now and April 1986."

The fact Steve says 'date' and not 'dates' is not lost on Eddie. "When's that?"

"May 28th, 1985."

Eddie studies the side of his face, looking for any hint of a joke. "How do you know that?"

"Would you believe me if I said it's because I'm actually twenty-one, and have already lived through these events, and by some miracle was sent back into the body of my 17-year-old self to try and stop something terrible from happening?"

Eddie hits him with a throw pillow. He'll get the truth out of him one day.

-

May 3rd, 1985

Eddie graduates with Steve. It was fucking hell making it happen, but Steve recruited Nancy Wheeler to help tutor them both. (Eddie thought he'd be jealous, but Steve really isn't into Nancy anymore. They'd chat, he'd ask about Jonathan even, but most importantly, he'd always sat closer to Eddie than Nancy).

All of Hellfire is invited to their graduation party, his Uncle Wayne, too, along with the entire Byer's family, Chief Hopper and his daughter, Max Mayfield, and Robin Buckley. Most of these people aren't a surprise to Eddie by the time the party comes around but meeting them and learning that Steve considers this odd group of people his family was a surreal thing when it was happening.

(The real surprise person is Robin Buckley, who Steve had tried to befriend briefly during January but quickly backed out of doing that when he saw how weirded out it made Buckley. Buckley does not show to their joint graduation party but everyone else does.)

Steve and his uncle get along well and it makes some deep part of Eddie warm and fuzzy. Wayne was initially distrustful of Steve (rightfully so, given Eddie's history with jocks, and that he might have complained, loudly and often, about Steve to his uncle before. Hard to backtrack that.)

But Steve had shown up one day, asking to speak to Wayne instead of Eddie. Wayne had said yes, and then they both climbed into Wayne's pickup and went God knows where because Wayne and Eddie both know if they'd stayed on the property, Eddie would have done his best to eavesdrop.

Upon return, Steve had given Wayne a hug, hopped in his own car, and left.

Neither will tell him what they talked about, the jerks.

But all that to say, they're here, the sliding-glass door that leads to Steve's backyard wide open as people freely move from the inside to the outside and back. His friends, Steve's friends, their friends mingling easily. Hopper and Wayne chat, Jonathan and Gareth are hucking kids into the pool (at their request), Nancy is talking with Jeff and Brian, and Steve is standing at Eddie's side, holding a plate and eating cake (chocolate with raspberry filling, Eddie's favorite).

Steve spends a lot his time at Eddie's side.

Eddie expected Steve to be tired of him by now. To give up. But he hasn't. Every now and then, he still asks if he can kiss Eddie. And Eddie keeps saying no. Always an excuse, always a reason. It's been fucking with Eddie's head because he doesn't understand how Steve can be so willing, and wanting, to kiss another guy. Especially since the guy he wants to his is Eddie Munson!

Steve doesn't always ask when they're alone. He's asked when other people at this party are around, but always too quiet to be heard, like he's protecting Eddie's secret but doesn't care if people know his own. A little part of Eddie was mad at him about it; Steve's never been beaten up for being queer which probably makes it easier to be open about it.

In fact, Steve had asked him just this morning as they put their graduation gowns on over their regular clothes in the school parking lot.

"Eddie, can I kiss you?"

"No. Why are you so eager to get beat up?"

"I'm not scared of these people, Eds," Steve says with that damn shrug.

"You should be! This town'll try and kill you for being a fag," Eddie spits out, memories of Hagan, Jackson, Hargrove, the man from The Hideout, all come back to him.

"I've seen Hell, and I'm not afraid of a single person in this town," Steve says, voice cold and Eddie used to doubt that, but they've been friends for months now and Eddie's seen the nail bat he keeps in the trunk of his car, and been there when Steve's woken up screaming. Steve doesn't talk about it and Eddie hasn't pushed but this is- hearing this is the most direct Steve's ever been about it. Whatever the fuck it was.

"Tell me about it," Eddie finds himself say. "You've seen Hell?"

This brings Steve back to himself it seems, because he looks shocked by Eddie's words even though Steve said them first. "Not today. Today, we graduate!"

So, they've graduated, they've partied, and now, Eddie has questions.

"Hey, Steve, follow me," Eddie says and heads back into the house. He doesn't look back, doesn't need to to know Steve is following. He goes up the stairs and into Steve's room, waiting for Steve to enter before closing the door behind him.

"Want to get me alone, Munson?" Steve asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah. I want to know about Hell."

Steve drops onto the edge of his bed like a stone. He can see the war going on in Steve's head. He can wait this out. He leans back against the door, a confirmation for Steve that he's not going to give up on this easy.

"Eds, you didn't believe me before. I don't- I don't want to lose you if you don't believe me again."

Again? Eddie would have remembered if Steve had told him anything about Hell. "Trust me, then. Trust that I'm not going to leave just because I don't believe what you say."

"Okay," Steve says. "You asked, back in December, how I knew when I'd be seeing my parents again. Remember?"

Eddie thinks before wrinkling his nose and saying, "Yeah. Time travel."

"Yeah. Like Back to the Future but- shit. That's not out yet. But yeah, time travel. Sorta? I don't know. Maybe I didn't travel through time and instead just had a vision of the future. Or a prophetic dream. Or whatever."

Eddie is less leaning against the door, and more using it for support now. "The fuck, Harrington? You weren't joking about that? You really believe that?"

"Yeah. And I got a majority of the people in my backyard to believe me, so I'm hoping I can convince you, too. And if-if I lose you. If you think I'm crazy, or a liar, or whatever, it's better that I lose you this way than-" Steve cuts himself off, a choked sob following those words. Never, not once, has Eddie seen Steve cry, but he's seeing it now. Crying, over the mere thought of losing Eddie. Because Eddie isn't gone, he's here in this room with Steve, and still Steve cries.

"Hey, hey, shh," Eddie shoves off the door to drop to his knees before him, hands going up to cup his face. "I'm here. You're not losing me because I'm here."

Steve nods, cheeks rubbing against Eddie's palms before Steve's hands come up to grip loosely at Eddie's wrists, Steve leaning in to rest his forehead against Eddie's. He takes a shaky breath in before he speaks. "I've already changed the future. In that other timeline, the bad one, you didn't graduate this year. You don't meet Dustin or Mike or Lucas until next year. I'm so fucking jealous of you because I think Dustin like you better than me because you understand the things he likes and I don't. You never got to meet Will, the Byers' had already moved to California by the time the kids are Freshman."

Eddie stays quiet, waits, closes his own eyes to just hear Steve.

"There's another world, Dustin says it's another dimension. I don't know enough about how it all works but we call it the Upside Down. There are monster there, the Demogorgon and Demodogs, and later, Demobats and Vecna."

"Vecna and Demogorgon at from Dungeons and Dragons."

"I know. These things had no name until we had to fight them. The kids named the Demogorgon. You and Dustin name Vecna. Now shush."

Eddie nods against Steve's forehead and listens to the impossible. Will being stuck in the Upside Down, a girl with superpowers, how Steve got involved, that Steve returned to a body that had fought the Demogorgon but the Demodogs hadn't happened yet. That he and Nancy break up because Steve knows both their hearts belong to others (Eddie's insides twist because he's sure that Steve is hinting that his heart belongs to Eddie but that's for later in the story).

Steve talks about going to Carol Perkins' party because he'd heard Eddie was going to be there. He doesn't know how the events go before this timeline because Steve hadn't gone to that party last timeline. He'd been with Nancy still, then.

He talks about how Hopper was the first person he told about the timeline change, because if anyone could prove he was telling the truth, it was El. Hopper hadn't believed him but it had built enough of a trust that Hopper was willing to let them go at the party.

He talks about the events that led to the concussion he'd got, that sparked their friendship fully. How he'd gotten it protecting those kids from Billy Hargrove. Burning down a pumpkin patch.

"You said you were twenty-one," Eddie says, when Steve stops talking. "That would make the year 1986? '87?. What happens next?"

Steve shakes his head. "I can't- there are things I can't say. Can't talk about yet because if I change the timeline too much, Vecna could win. And I can't-he cannot-I-"

"Shh, shhh," Eddie soothes, "no, you don't have to tell me. Thank you, for sharing this with me. I do... I have a question."

"Mmm?"

"How do I play into this. Why did you decide to be my friend now?"

"To change the future. In March of '86, you get- the Upside Down shit effects your life, too. We trauma bond and- I realized that I wish I had known you better. Sooner. We had one week together and honestly, I spent most of it pining after my ex. It took a while, but I realized I will always love Nance, but I wasn't in love with her. But that realization came after it was too late for us-" Steve cuts off, sobbing.

Eddie doesn't know what happened. Isn't sure he wants to. That's a timeline that's already lost forever. For it to come true, it requires him to be in high school and he's not. "Hey, it's okay. We're okay. We're going to stay okay."

They stay there, close, until Steve is calm again and ready to rejoin the party.

"Hey. Any chance I can see El move something with her mind?"

"Yeah. Gonna have to wait until your side of the family leaves, though. It's still fragile, who knows and who doesn't."

His side of the family. Like- Eddie cannot think on that too long or he's going to combust. "Can't wait to see."

Eddie does get to see. Steve pulls El aside as the party winds down and whispers in her ear. A little while later, while Eddie is the only one outside for his smoke break, his cigarette gets pulled from his mouth and flung into the pool. He jumps, because Jesus Christ, but a quick look towards the house shows him Steve, arms crossed and smiling, with El, arm extended towards Eddie still.

He can't find himself to be mad about the cigarette when El smiles at him.

-

Steve is already cooking breakfast when Eddie emerges from the guest room the morning after graduation. He'd been invited to share Steve's bed (just to sleep, Steve had sworn) but Eddie had to decline because he wasn't sure he could trust himself.

"Morning," Eddie says, draping himself boldly against Steve's back to look over his shoulder as he fries up hashbrowns. Steve doesn't even hesitate to lean back against Eddie.

"Morning."

"Put that down and turn around for a moment," Eddie steps back and Steve obeys, setting the wooden spoon he'd been pushing hashbrowns around with down, turning to lean himself against the counter rather than stay in front of the stove.

"What's up?"

"Just wanted to report that I am suffering no hang over effects. You?"

"None," Steve says, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Good, good. Didn't fall out of bed and concuss myself either. Same for you I assume?"

"Same."

Eddie thinks Steve is starting to understand, if the little surprised face he does is anything to go by. "And I can't help but notice the daylight out that window. You see the daylight?"

Steve gives him a lopsided grin. "I do see it. Eddie, can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

They meet in the middle. For a kiss that's been a long time coming, it's so gentle. Steve cups his face like he's made of glass and Eddie should be annoyed by that but he's not. It just makes him feel safe.

Feel loved.

They break for air but don't go far from each other.

"I don't know what the future holds, unlike you," Eddie says, because he's a cheeky boy, "but I do know that no matter what it brings I'm here. You can't get rid of me now."

Steve looks conflicted, "not even if I asked you to go? For your safety? Even if it's to save you?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Babe, you've already saved me. You've already changed the course of my life." He clocks the way Steve's eyes darken when he calls him babe. "I'm gonna make sure I've changed yours for the better, too."

Steve hauls him back in by his shoulders. They kiss and kiss and kiss until the smell of burning hashbrowns ruins the mood.

Eddie doesn't know what horrors await (no one but Steve does) but they'll face those together.

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 5/8

The paladin theory is something that a good friend of mine came up with, that if a person was playing them unironically they tended to be self-righteous assholes who actually believed they were holier than thou. Now if you were doing it for fun or to riff on how paladins were self-righteous jerks, then it didn't apply.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

***

September was the hardest on Steve. All the kids were away at school, busy being students and living their lives. If it hadn’t been for Eddie, he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

“Who are you going to work on next?” Steve asked around his slice of pizza.

Eddie wiped his hands on his jeans. “The ranger sounded more fun, so Lucas is next.”

“You got a thing against paladins?” Steve asked, throwing him a couple of napkins.

“Every person that I have ever known that played one unironically have been assholes so...”

Steve started laughing and Eddie cocked his head to the side.

“What’s so funny?”

He wiped away a stray tear. “Mike is exactly like that.”

Eddie blinked. “Wait, really?”

Steve nodded, his eyes continuing to water as he fought back bales of laughter.

Eddie started laughing, too. Soon they were falling over each other just laughing their asses off when the girls found them like that ten minutes later.

“We are gone for less than an hour,” Chrissy huffed, “and we come back to find you giggling like children. Did Eddie break out the weed or something?”

The two men shook their heads.

“I was telling about Mike,” Steve insisted, “and he was telling me his theory that people that play paladins are assholes.”

Robin blinked for a moment and then started laughing too. Which set Steve and Eddie off again.

Chrissy just shook her head and put away the dessert Robin and she got, bringing out the beer to the sofa.

By the time she had finished all three of them had calmed down enough to explain.

“I’m going to have to tell the guys about this on Sunday,” Eddie said, holding his ribs.

“What happens on Sunday?” Robin asked, flopping on the sofa next to him.

Chrissy sat down on Eddie’s other side. “D&D with the Hellfire Club. Eddie DMs, while Jeff, Gareth, Brian and I play. It’s fun. Gareth has been fiercely battling Eddie over that nugget for years.”

Eddie grinned, all teeth. “He’s only bitter because he plays a paladin.”

That got them all laughing hysterically.

“That’s hilarious,” Robin said after they managed to calm down.

“So what’s on the docket tonight for my reeducation or whatever it is we call these things,” Steve asked.

“A double feature,” Eddie said excitedly. “Muppet fantasy. It’s fantastic.”

Steve turned to Robin, “I didn’t know Tammy Thompson made movies.”

Robin gasped. “You take that back!”

Chrissy and Eddie just looked at each in confusion.

“She sang like a Muppet!” Steve insisted.

“She did not!” Robin hissed. “She absolutely did not!”

Steve leaned over to get in her face. “Like a Muppet giving birth!”

“You’re horrible!” Robin groused.

Steve turned to the other two with a smile. “Tammy was Robin’s first baby gay crush in high school. She thought she could sing but she was the only one who thought so. Well, not counting the music teacher and her mother.”

Then he proceeded to sing horribly and high pitched so that everyone was laughing. Yes, even Robin.

“All right she was that bad,” Robin finally conceded.

Steve waved his hand at her. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t know you two met in high school,” Chrissy said. “That’s cute.”

Steve and Robin looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“Everyone knew who Steve was,” Robin said, “captain of two of the three sports he played in. Rich, good looking, popular with the ladies. It was annoying.”

“I was also a bit of a mean girl,” Steve said with a half shrug. “We didn’t meet until after I graduated when my dad forced me to take the most humiliating job at the mall.”

Robin shuddered. “It was horrible. It was a nautical themed ice cream shop in the food court and we had wear these tiny sailor outfits.”

“Like the shorts on the boys’ costume was shorter than the girls’,” Steve said. “We measured.”

“At least the girls’ costume had shorts instead of skirt,” Chrissy said.

“Thank you!” Steve said throwing his arms in the air. “Tell that to this one!” He pointed at Robin.

“I would have gotten more dates if it had been a skirt is all I’m saying,” she replied haughtily.

“You were getting dates while I was getting made fun of,” Steve groused. “It was the stupid hat. It wouldn’t sit right for a start. My hair is too thick. I even tried not styling it. Nope still refused to stay on straight. Plus, I was famous for my hair in high school, so I thought it was hiding my best feature.”

Robin giggled. “I had a whiteboard and everything. ‘YOU SUCK’ on one side and ‘YOU RULE’ on the other. He never did get a single mark in that one.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “There–there wouldn’t be pictures of this is... outfit, would there?”

Robin threw her head back and laughed. “There’s a commercial.”

“No!” Chrissy gasped. “This I have to see!”

Robin grabbed the remote and found the YouTube channel for their smart TV. She logged into Eddie’s account with a grin.

When Steve realized what she was going to do, he made a dive for the remote. But Eddie tackled him to the floor.

“Quick!” Chrissy said. “What’s the name of the shop?”

Robin cackled. “Scoops Ahoy!”

Chrissy typed it in on her phone and grabbed the video that clearly had teenaged versions of their friends.

Steve immediately stopped struggling when the opening jingle started, allowing Eddie to get up and watch this absolute disaster of less than a minute’s worth of hell.

“Those are some criminally short shorts, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. He leaned forward and started cackling. “Does the register really say boobies?”

Chrissy leaned forward. “Oh my god! How did you get away with that?”

“Apparently film executives pop out of Hell as fully formed adults who wouldn’t know a joke if it bit them on the ass,” Steve said on the floor. He leaned his head back far enough to see the screen. He sighed. His hair looked like shit.

Eddie poked Steve in the ribs. “You looked cute.”

He held out his hand to Steve, who took it to get up. He plopped on the floor and leaned back against the sofa. “Yeah, you think so now, but I have no doubt you would have teased me for it back then.”

Robin looked at the remote in her hand and then back at Steve. “Sorry. I thought it would be funny. But you didn’t have a good time and that wasn’t fair to you.”

Steve shrugged.

Eddie put his arm around his shoulders. “I might have teased you, but only in the most unhinged flirting kind of way imaginable.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “He would have been insufferable about it, too. He would have made me come with every time even though I’m lactose intolerant so that he could make goo-goo eyes at the pretty boy.”

Steve looked up at him. “You think I was pretty?”

“Sweetheart, not was, is.”

Robin smiled at them and then shared a glance with Chrissy. Absolute idiots, the pair of them.

She pressed the remote and got them back their double feature. They started with Dark Crystal and throughout the whole movie, Steve didn’t budge from Eddie’s side as they sat together on the floor, Eddie’s arm still slung over Steve’s shoulders.

It was only when it was over and they took a brief break before starting Labyrinth that Eddie let go at all.

Steve moved to the large sofa, but when Eddie came back, instead of sitting on the floor like he had been before, he squished himself between Chrissy and Steve, forcing Steve to plaster himself against Eddie’s side.

Robin shook her head. It was going to be an eternity before they got to Christmas.

*

“You going to admit you like him now?” Robin asked a couple of days later as they sat on their sofa eating mac and cheese.

Steve sighed. “I can really see myself with him for the long term.”

“So why don’t you make a move then?” she asked, poking him with her toes.

Steve picked at his food with his fork, stabbing the noodles without any real effort to get them to stay. “I don’t know. We’ve talked about it before. You think he’s head over heels and I think he’s just being polite because I’m paying his bills right now.”

“Oh.”

Steve looked up at her and echoed. “Yeah, oh.”

“Shit, Steve,” Robin muttered. “I could ask Chrissy. I bet he tells her everything.”

“Would you tell her if she asked for Eddie if I liked him like that?��� he asked, going back and picking at his food.

She deflated. “No. I would tell her he has to talk to you.”

“And I’m not ready for that,” he murmured finally setting his food aside. “There’s too much time between now and Christmas, I don’t want to make things awkward if he doesn’t like me like that.”

Robin winced. Especially for New Year’s eve.

“Yeah, okay,” she conceded. “Just make sure you tell him as soon as you can. You don’t want to wait too long and find out he’s moved on with someone else because he thought you weren’t interested.”

Steve nodded. “I know. I’ve just got to keep up the flirting and teasing so he knows I’m interested and hopefully he’ll make the first move.”

“I really hope this doesn’t blow up in your face.”

“You and me both, Robs. You and me both.”

***

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 15 interludes thoughts

Carol interlude:

Holy shit you really were just a fucking TERRIBLE mother!

Like I get it, you had lots of horrible childhood trauma. And you didn't want to adopt Amy and let yourself get bullied into it by your sister. But that doesn't give you an excuse for how you treated both your kids.

Got to see another trigger event!! Fuck yes. Give me more. I want to see more details on those higher dimensional beings.

Fucking hell seeing Marquis's powers in play is pretty crazy. Dangerous boy.

Carol was just going to full blown stab right through that closet door without even looking inside! She almost killed a child! God damn.

“No.  He’s just my daddy.  Reads me bedtime stories, makes me dinner, and tells me jokes.  I love him more than anything else in the world.  You can’t take him away from me.  You can’t!” Fucking ooof that's a line.

No seriously though this can't be the first time there has been a young child of a cape that needed to be adopted because their parent was arrested or killed. Is there really no system in place for this? Cause Amy should not be going with Carol.

Just the way through most of the present sections of the interlude that Carol thinks about her daughter and Amy. Not her daughters. And this was before she knew anything about what Amy had done. Terrible mother.

HOLY SHIT AMY OH MY GOD YOU MADE IT EVEN WORSE! And I thought flesh coffin Victoria was bad! FUCK!

Vic is going to need lots of therapy.

Fucking Carol basically deciding Amy is her daughter now only because she doesn't want to think about Victoria being her daughter. Damn. Bad mother.

And Amy is in the birdcage (Hellfire playing in my head the entire damn time I'm reading this part). I'd be rather terrified to see what she becomes except no one ever gets out of the birdcage so obviously there is no worries. She is never going to be an issues. (I shouldn't need the /s but just to be safe.)

Brian interlude:

Not much to say here, most of my thoughts on this relationship was said in my last post.

I do always love seeing Taylor from the PoV of someone else. Just shows how fucking badass she is. And kinda terrifying.

"She conveyed an eerie kind of confidence that he knew she didn’t have at her core." This is just incorrect bud. When she isn't thinking about how she is portraying herself she conveys the confidence she does have at her core. The stuff she hides from herself.

Alexandria interlude:

DATES! DATA! LORE! AHHHHHHH!!!!

Date of first Endbringer attack!!!!! Strong estimation of the number of capes in August 1986! Knowledge that Cauldron was working in 1986! Their "success" rate at the time that I can compare to now! (Success in quotes cause I don't personally think tentacles is a failure. I want to meet tentacle lady.)

Obviously I'm not a big fan of any of the Cauldron people on the surface. But I think I like Contessa within those boundaries. I technically have no idea what she can do but I'm almost positive she is some type of precog. And I kind of ship her and Alexandria.

Behemoth is fucking scary. Just light people on fire from the inside, shoot lightning. Full energy manipulation. Damn.

Alexandria is the head of the PRT! Damn! (I assume at least.)

I want to know more about the Terminus project!

And Coil is a product of Cauldron! But he doesn't know it (supposedly). Damn. They list him as an alternate to the Protectorate which is very interesting. I'm super curious what Cauldron's goal with the Protectorate was and how Coil can do the same.

Fucking Alexandria just going and grabbing people to be experimented on and it's "ok" cause they were dying. Holy shit! She even manages to make the comparison to her chemo treatment and still does it! Fuck lady. You can justify anything.

Triumph interlude:

See? Triumph is fine! So Skitter didn't do anything wrong.

Triumph is Cauldron created too. Cause he was only good enough at baseball for the minor league but not the majors. God damn fucking privileged ass rich white boy. And he describes it as a traumatic thing! God. At least later he does kinda call out that he got stuff from having a rich dad with connections.

Assault seems to be doing great! Sure was a good idea to let him join the Protectorate just cause he wanted to be a creep to this one girl. Turns out when that girl is gone he doesn't have any motivations to be a "good guy". Great decision Legend.

Robot daughter! Good to see you again! And you built yourself a bio body! Or a head at least. Still, fun!

AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Defiant.

Definitely isn't Polearm McGee! Nope! Absolutely a different person. That also likes really long pointy sticks.

I am glad Frank Miller's Armsmaster was able to remove the restrictions on robot daughters code. She deserves freedom. Pretty much served his purpose now and she basically just keeps him around to humor him. "Oh yes I need Defiant to help me, even though I built his suit and could just control it directly myself."

Seven Dragon suits in Brockton Bay huh? I'm sure that won't result in anything next arc. What with Dragon specifically on the lookout for Taylor and Taylor planning on going with her dad to the town hall on the election.

Triumph gives in to the weight of not speaking up about Defiant being Armsmaster but then he gets mad at Prism for not speaking up! My dude! You didn't speak up, you can't be mad at her for the same thing!

Fucking LOVED the ending of this interlude, and thus this arc, though. Absolutely perfect. Just with the inherent comparison of Defiant to Mannequin, especially considering Colin called Mannequin a "monster" in his interlude and said "I'm nothing like you!" And then Triumph thinking how he could see the reason for every step Colin made and could see himself justifying each one. And the previous chapter had Taylor dealing with how far she had let herself go. All that and then ending this chapter with Triumph staring at the bodies of Crawler and Mannequin (finally confirmed dead) and the line "Maybe it was to find some clue, some sign he could watch out for, that would let him identify the monsters from the men."

Just fucking. So good. I think it's my favorite quotable arc ending so far. I might like Arc 11's ending more (it's close) but not in quotable way. "All lies" at the end of Arc 14 is a close second, but I like this one more.

[thissugarcane]

justin taylor <3

I started writing this in a comment response to a very kind commenter on "swimming with sharks" on ao3, but then realized I was rambling rambling rambling away, so decided to put it here, instead. also it's one of two things I desperately want to fix about the season 5 rewrite which I want to do via "show not tell" (aka I don't want to explicitly say, or have anyone say via dialogue, "this is justin's journey to Discover Himself", but that's what I want to write).

So! The point that I think people sometimes miss (or maybe just don't focus on because usually, he is so self-aware compared to the others) about Justin: he is a teenager. and, like a teenager, he will try on different identities to see what sticks. he's strong and determined and kind and stubborn and god forbid someone tell him to do anything-- but he's also not a fully realized personality. (By the end of the show he is)

this comes out in the way that he mimics people he admires / fucks, throughout the show.

Like, obviously I don't think Justin is as eager to "be shown an identity to mold himself to" (like say, Michael is, for better or worse). But he definitely shows signs of using others around him, that he admires for whatever reason, to try on different identities.

He most obvious: Brian. So season one (and two) he's with Brian (or trying to be with Brian.) And we see him going clubbing / enjoying tricking and public sex and everything that Brian says is important. (I would argue that he does like those things, and I will stand by the idea that, while Justin might want to settle down, I don't think monogamy from his partner is as important as stability and security. But obviously being a club kid is a personality he tries on, and decides isn't exactly who he is.)

Then, he's with Ethan; he leaves The Club Kid Who's Agressively Queer And Proud behind to be With The Young Romantic Musician. And then we see him wearing turtlenecks and Being A Pretentious Art Student. Only, you see signs he doesn't like this particular identity, especially at that one party where he tells Ethan's friend off right before Carnivale. He prefers the atmosphere of Carnivale, even if he doesn't really like either. And I would argue Justin does like some of the things that go with this identity: the bathtub, the romance of eating on the floor in a small cozy hovel.

So he goes back to Brian, and they sort of do their own thing.... until Just 'gets with' Cody. It might not be romantic, but it's a significant relationship at the time. Justin shaves his head and gets off on agression. Would he do this if he weren't struggling with anger management and everything else? We have to assume no, since he, well, doesn't… but at the time, Cody is a personality he tries on, to try and deal with Stuff. *waves hands at PTSD*

When he goes to LA, Justin's 'with' Connor, and we see him go back to tricking and anonymous sex / sex parties, but it's in a suuuper LA way: he's at a rich sex party, he's being dragged to glitzy events, everything is super shallow. And -- I have to tell myself he didn't fuck Connor more than once or I get really sad, so it's just a lil crush that he avoids, sure -- he sounds really disappointed when his "in" to the all-access LA party scene, Connor, is done with him.

So he comes back home to Pittsburgh, and has Brian again... only he isn't sure who he is or, most importantly, who he wants to be. This was the character struggle I would argue the writers gloriously failed to depict in season 5, btw: Justin wanted Brian. He just didn't know who he wanted to be and what he wanted to do, for himself. (By the end of the season, arguably, he'd figured it out: he was determined, and he was strong, and he was a survivor, and he was gonna go be an artist, whatever hardship and slogging through galleries and schmoozing and bullshitting and people he wanted to murder he had to kiss ass. he was going. to. be. an. artist.)

they were just real bad at like. the journey to get there.

[bashvaughn]

a few months prior…

A few months prior, Sebastian and Jocalyn as a collective, had been nothing but distant, childhood memories of the past. Sweet and innocent, the budding friendship had come to a sudden and abrupt end when Josie and her family had travelled to Europe and further for some few years whilst her father and his band had completed successful tours after tours. And what was left behind was a particularly gutted 10 year-old Sebastian, having lost his best friend, and though today he didn’t grow so upset when he thought about Jo as he had done in his younger youth, his thoughts often crossed back to those times. He wondered how she was, what she looked like, and where she even was. Had she kept the necklace he’d gotten her? Did she even remember him?

He wasn’t entirely the same as he had been as a child. He was a sweet boy growing up, polite and kind, but after all these years, there wasn’t really much left of Seb Vaughn from 1988. He’d sort of just, well, vanished, one day, faded into the background. His older brother Nathaniel’s death had left a deep and empty wound in the bottom of his heart, still raw and unhealed seven years on. It had left him angry at the world and unable to express his emotions, when really, inside, there was still just that little boy who’d never really grown up, a little boy who just needed some assertion that whatever was going on inside his brain was okay. He didn’t spend much time at home, any opportunity to be out the house, he took; his relationship with his parents wasn’t exactly the best, not since Nate had died. It was hard watching your mother often breakdown once the working day finished.

Out the house. Yes. Being out the house was good. A party! He loved parties, rich kid parties were the best. They had the best sound systems, the most liquor, the biggest pools. The angry teenage boy wasn’t very popular amongst the younger students, amongst those that 1995 would class as “uncool”, as over time had turned himself into quite a bit of a bully, a thug or sorts who enjoyed taunting those less fortunate or lucky as him. But to the majority? He was rather sort after, envied in ways. Guys wanted to be him: he was the tallest kid in school, built strong and toned at 6’5” with a sharp jaw, played quarterback on the school football team, always had his brown curtained locks of hair perfectly swept back at all times. The girls wanted to be with him for all those very reasons. But sure, despite having a fling or two over the years, a couple of nights tangled in bedsheets, he strangely paid them little mind. He paid very few people any mind these days. Or anything.

He arrived as the sun had just set. A final all-out party in the school holiday before they returned back for the new academic year. One last send off. Some kid who lived just outside the city in some sprawling mansion. He walked up the steps of the house entrance with a bounce almost, pack of beer in his hand, his good friend since childhood, Brian, walking beside him. He wore a pair of blue denim jeans, a black belt secured around them, a red plaid shirt tucker inside, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, a tiny, silver hoop in his ear, cigarette packet in the pocket. The door wide open, he stepped inside to a house almost bursting full of students. It was loud and chaotic, full of booming music and disorganisation. The perfect party.

He was a presence amongst his peers, that could be said. Idolised in many ways despite the element of fear from some. You had to be when you’d just been made football captain for the new year after the previous one had graduated. He had a pretty intense reputation. Walking inside, he was greeted with happy cheers and welcomes from the students, the owner of the house walking over to him with a wide grin. “Vaughn, you made it!” Sebastian’s smile was never as big as anyone else, it was more of a just an upwards turn. Nodding, he greeted his friend, shoulder tapping him as a hello. “Sup, man.” He responded, ignoring the way people turned their heads a little. Turning to some of the partygoers, the house owner clapped his hands, “New captain himself, ladies and gents!” The teens nearby cheered, some downing their drinks as a toast of sorts.

Laughing quietly, he shook his head, “Touching — lemme get a drink, man.” He beckoned towards the large, open kitchen ahead, beginning to hear over in search of a clean red cup.

Sebastian was, however, obliviously unaware that there was also another big revelation in attendance tonight. A unexpected storm that arrived back with an awestruck greeting from students all around.