#season 4 kinda through them all out of the bag

[adiraofthetals]

I haven't watched Ep 9 or 10 of Superman & Lois yet but I have peeked at its Tumblr. I think I know what going to happen tonight and its called tears.

[featherandferns]

sugar (fic)

ex!jj maybank x ex!fem!reader | set in season 4 without the Blackbeard mystery! (non-canon) | inspiration

content warnings: mentions of/references to sex (m and f receiving; MDNI); drug use; unfaithful relationships

word count: 18k.

blurb: JJ comes back into your life - older, richer and different again from before. Can the past stay the past, and the two of you be friends, or is there too much history there to let it all lie?

Cinnamon Buns

���Where would you like these?” Someone calls out to you. You turn and take in the tray of mouth-wateringly delicious looking cinnamon buns that a volunteer holds. Smiling, you point to a far table on the grassy field. 

“Anywhere over there is good! Those look amazing, thank you so much!” 

You turn back to the task at hand: organising cans of tinned, chopped tomatoes. To your left is a stack of bags of rice and to your right, bags of pasta. It’s quick work as you separate them by flavour: garlic and herb; chilli; regular…In the background you overhear chatter of fellow volunteers. Where should I put this? Who had the plastic bags? This was your happy place. 

‘The Stirring Spoon’ is what you had called it. It was your passion project born out of daydreams. A collaborative, community effort, providing food to anybody and everybody, free of charge. It wasn’t a traditional food drive. Instead, it was like a potluck dinner that you hosted every Wednesday in the late afternoon, running into the evening. People brought whatever dish they had prepared, or any ingredients that they had going spare which you and a handful of other volunteers whipped up into mains and desserts. Tomato soup and lentil curry and meatball subs and rainbow brownies and chocolate chip cookies. You’d even managed to rope a few local establishments into it. Any leftover bakes that they had when the workday was over, or things that were just a smidge out of date by a day or two, you took and offered out. Today? Cinnamon buns that were baked yesterday at a humble cafe in the town centre, just shy of Figure Eight. Food health and safety laws were strict but you could stretch them for The Stirring Spoon. After all, you weren’t technically selling a product so no harm done. People were clued in about the supposed “risk”. 

You lift up a can of tomatoes and study the ‘best by’ date on the metal lid. A month in the safe zone. Perfect. As your mind flicks through recipes of what you could cook up, a voice stood out amongst the chatter nearby. It was like a siren’s call; distinct and damning. You could pick it out even when deaf. 

“I gotta delivery here for y’all.”

“What’s in it?”

“Fresh sorta stuff. ‘Tatoes and that kinda thing.”

“Over there, I’d say.”

As the footsteps approach you can feel your heartbeat quicken. It taps nervously in your ribcage like you’re sixteen all over again. Your focus remains on the task at hand until a slight shadow casts over you, and you know you can’t stall any longer.  Your hands freeze over a can of tomatoes. Looking up, standing in front of you, clear as daylight and bright as dawn, is JJ Maybank. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a worn-down t-shirt and shorts; his fingers and wrists decorated with metal rings and beaded bracelets. If you squinted, it’d be like no time had passed at all. He doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him and yet, he’s entirely changed. In his hands is a large cardboard crate of various fresh produce. You smile. 

“JJ.”

It comes out in a breath as though you’re seeing something supernatural before you. In a way, you are. How long has it been now? Two years? Nearly three?

His own surprise mirrors yours on his face. But JJ was always better at hiding his emotions, once he had a chance to catch them. It was like a teasing glimpse before he closed the curtains. His recovery is quick as a smile starts to show, and he says your name like he’s practised it everyday. 

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Brought some deliveries,” JJ says, hitching the box. “Kiara mentioned something ‘bout a community kitchen drive y’all do and we thought we could contribute and stuff.”

“Well, that’s nice of y’all. Thank you,” you reply. 

You shuffle some stuff out of the way on the pop-up table in front of you to make space for JJ’s box. It’s hard not to watch his arms as he lowers it down, the way the biceps flex and tense beneath the skin. It’s hard not to think of other times his arms have looked that way, wrapped around your body, tugging you closer. You blink the memories away. 

JJ’s hands slot into his short pockets. He rocks on his feet. “Looks like it’s a pretty popular thing, huh?v This food drive, I mean.”

You glance around at the bustling volunteers. Smiling, you say, “Yeah, I guess it caught on pretty quick. Could say the same about y’alls tackle-and-bait shop you got going. It’s the talk of the town ‘round here.”

JJ grins with visible pride and it isn’t until you see it that you realise how much you missed his smile. You wonder if he’s surveying your face and body the way you are his, as if looking for some inconsistency or change since the last time you saw him. 

“Yeah, it’s coming together pretty nice. Helps having a bunch of us working on it, though.”

“I bet,” you say. You’d heard the chatter on the island about the Pogue’s latest venture. The sneers of the kooks and the curiosity of the locals. Their bets and wagers on whether the business would sink or float. You’d wanted to wander down and check it out for yourself but you always chickened out. Truth was, you’d been avoiding JJ Maybank like the flu, and now here he was in front of you, putting all your quarantining to shame. Your eyes flit down at the crate and you gently rifle through the food for a distraction. Tomatoes and potatoes and bunches of fresh berries and fruit. 

“I, uh, don’t know if there’s much in there that y’all need but–”

“No, no, this is great,” you assure him, smiling. “It’s really generous of y’all. Every contribution is appreciated.”

“Happy to help. To be honest, it’s Kie and Sarah you should be thanking.”

“Yeah, I didn’t peg you as the gardening type,” you tease. 

“Well, only for the stuff that matters,” JJ grins with a wink. You consciously try to fight away the warmth running to your cheeks. Damn it, you weren’t sixteen anymore. “So…how have you been, then? Since we last…y’know–”

“Baby!”

It’s a reflex reaction to turn at the sound of Mark’s call. He comes bounding over with a wide grin. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and flour is dusted on his khakis. It’s a reflex to close your eyes when he dips his head to plant a kiss to your lips, too. You rub them together after as you prepare yourself for what might be the most awkward interaction you’ll ever go through. 

“JJ,” you say, turning to the blonde haired boy. “This is Mark. Mark, this is JJ. We used to…uh…Well, we used to hang out.”

“JJ - pleasure,” Mark says sincerely. He sticks out his hand and for a painful moment you genuinely worry that JJ might never take it. But he does, shaking it. 

“Likewise,” he says. 

You feel Mark’s spare arm slide around your back, his palm placing itself respectfully on your side. That was Mark: respectful. Righteous but not in an arrogant way. He was kind and caring without judgement, like the sort of Christian boy your nana would want you to bring home. The sort of guy who would bring your mother flowers and play golf with your father on the weekends. The kind of face you’d see flash on the television during the six o’clock news as the reporter relays a daring and heroic tale of saving orphaned kittens from a burning tree. 

“This is the guy that’s started the tackle-and-bait shop. Y’know, the one with the surf store and stuff,” you say to Mark. Realisation dawns upon Mark and he wags his finger at JJ. 

“Wait, wait, JJ as in JJ Maybank? One of the gang who found El Dorado?” 

You roll your eyes at the pure awe in his voice. JJ chuckles somewhat nervously and nods as he says, “yeah, uh, that JJ, I guess.”

“Holy shit! Baby, why didn’t you say!? Oh man, I read all about that. It sounded freaking incredible! I have so much to ask you, I mean-”

You place a hand to his chest and laugh, slightly embarrassed by his fangirling. “Baby, baby! Cool it a second, yeah?”

Laughing, you glance at JJ. And you catch it. That emotion he lets slip just before correcting himself. His eyes dart to yours in a second but they were looking elsewhere before. They were looking at your hand on Mark’s stomach. 

“Nah man, it’s cool. You guys should stop by sometime and I can tell you all about it. The other Pogues too, yeah,” JJ cordially replies. 

“Oh sick, man. That’d be great,” Mark beams. You smile at JJ and nod. 

“I’d love to see what you guys have done to the place,” you tell him. JJ smiles but it falters, like a flickering lightbulb that’s fighting to stay on. An awkward quiet passes and you clear your throat and glance around at the voluntary effort. “Well, I should probably get back to work.”

“No, yeah, course. I ought’a get back to the shop,” JJ replies. 

“Thanks for the stuff though. We really appreciate it.”

“You brought this?” Mark wonders, picking a strawberry out of the crate. He pops it in his mouth and hums happily. “Damn, those are some fresh strawberries.”

“Yeah, man. All from our local garden we got going.”

“This place sounds like the dream,” Mark tells you. You smile up at him. He takes the crate in his broad hands and lifts it easily into the air. Being sandwiched between two toned-up guys had you feeling as brittle as candyfloss. “I’ll take this over to Nancy. Nice meeting you, JJ.”

“Yeah, you too, man.”

You watch him wander off a moment before turning back to JJ. He offers you another smile. “I’ll come check out the shop soon,” you promise. 

JJ points at you, playfully warning, “you better!” before walking away. You watch him with every step he takes and the moment he’s out of sight your head drops. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. Your entire body feels as though it’s vibrating; your heart running laps in your ribcage. And the funniest part of all is the strange thought that races around your mind, he’s real. It had been so long since you’d seen JJ, let alone heard from him, that it felt like a daydream. The memories were so hazy now that they’d been painted over in sepia and you wondered if you’d imagined the whole thing. But no, here he was, knowing you and recognising you, and talking to you. The two of you back in Kildare, seemingly for good. 

“Baby! Can you give us a hand?”

The call drags you out of your thoughts. Your eyes fall onto your boyfriend. He stands a good head taller than most people. He’s almost lanky in build but not ungainly; broad shouldered and slim nosed. His eyes are those of an otter: nearly black with how brown they are; beady and shining, even from over here. There’s a smattering of freckles over his cheeks which is adorably boyish in contrast to his stubble on the jawline. He’s smiling at you in a way that all girls want to be smiled at. Unashamed in his admiration for you. It grounds you from the dizzying interaction with JJ and you walk over to him, ready to help out in any way you can. 

The rest of The Stirring Spoon passes without a hitch or unexpected visitor from the past. It’s as popular as always, with locals and tourists stopping by. The lentil and tomato soup that you whipped up disappears within the first half hour, alongside the nearly stale but still delicious cheese bread. Mark stands by your side the whole time, smiling as he serves. He whispers little jokes in your ear that have you giggling in the quiet periods of the food drive. Then came the evening rush, with people stopping by after work. The culmination of it all meant JJ was pushed out of your thoughts and back into the long-term store, where he’d been haunting before. That is, until you’re tidying up. 

“That JJ guy seemed nice,” Mark says from the table to your right. You look up from the plastic snack-bags you’re tidying away. “You said you guys used to hang?”

“When we were sixteen,” you reply. 

“How come you stopped hanging out?” he wonders. 

You look down at the bags and obsess over the colours of the labels as you debate how best to word your reply. What do you divulge to him? There’s an index of memories labelled JJ and you know not all need to see the light of day, let alone enter the mind of your boyfriend in scarring reenactments. 

“We just grew apart. He was going through some stuff, I think, and then he got really into that whole treasure hunting thing,” you tell him. It was true enough to not be a lie. Mark hums in thought. 

“That’s a shame.”

You quirk a brow, amused. “Why? Cause I could have cashed in on the gold too?”

Mark shrugs and you laugh. “What!? I’m just saying, some people are worth staying friends with!”

But that was the thing. You and JJ weren’t just friends. Shaking your head, you close the cardboard box of repacked snack-bags and carry it over to the table where he’s working. You held him wrap individual muffins in napkins before placing them in a large tupperware box. 

“Hey, y’know what’d be nice?” Mark says. 

“What?”

“If we took them over some leftovers. I mean, we made most of this stuff with the ingredients they gave us anyway. And there’s still some of those cinnamon buns going spare.”

You take pause and look up at him. He’s obliviously working away, head tucked down to look at the muffins. There’s an easy smile that’s permanently etched into his face, as if he came out the womb cheesing away. That wasn’t why you fell for him though. No, it was his kindness. His offhand generosity that came so naturally to him it was almost offensive. Pressing up onto your toes, you cup his jaw and press a kiss to his cheek. He chuckles quietly. 

“You’re wonderful,” you hum happily. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

“You go wrap up some cinnamon buns then. I’ll pack up some of these muffins for them.”

You do as he asks and soon enough, there’s a box of miscellaneous leftovers from your food drive. Mark drives. The sky is a delicate colour of amber and pink warning of soon nightfall. Colours like that always make you feel relaxed. It helps ease the nervousness of seeing JJ again. You weren’t sure why it was making you so antsy. It wasn’t as if you and JJ parted ways on bad terms. You suppose it’s just a bitter-sweet memory. All memories of JJ came with that sour coating now, like sherbet lemons on your tongue. You wonder if you’d feel the same way if Mark weren’t around. 

But he is, and you’re glad he is. 

Looking over to him, you reach out your hand to capture his, resting on his thigh. He glances over at you and smiles. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just happy, s’all.”

“That’s good,” he says, looking back to the road. Like something from a music video, he raises your interlocked hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Means I’m doing something right, if you’re happy.”

It’s impossible not to do a double-take as you pull up to what was formally the Maybank property. It’s as if new life has been breathed into it. More than just a lick of paint, there’s two brand new buildings alongside a pretty sturdy looking pier and dock. There’s a handmade charm to everything that makes it all the more enticing and impressive. Mark seems to think so too because he whistles as the two of you pull up the driveway. You look to your left and see the Twinkie. A relic from your past, of memories half-naked, rolling around the back with JJ, sharing a blunt in a post-orgasmic haze. Your thoughts shut off with the engine. 

Mark takes the lead, his hand in yours, and carries the box of leftovers up to the house. You both wander up the porch and Mark knocks twice on the door. Your eyes look at everything, taking it in, admiring every detail, until someone opens the door. It’s Kiara. 

“Hey. Can I help you?” she asks your monolith of a boyfriend. You poke your head from around his body. 

“Hey Kie.”

“Oh my Gosh! Girl, where have you been?” Kie beams. The two of you embrace, laughing and smiling. “Wait - did you get the stuff I sent JJ over with?”

“Yeah, we did,” you say. “Thank you so much.”

“We actually brought this as a thanks,” Mark adds, offering out the tub. She eyes him almost with suspicion. 

“Sorry, I forgot to say - Kie, this is Mark. My boyfriend,” you explain. Kie’s eyebrows shoot up with that final word but she recovers quick. 

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” she says. She takes the box and glances through the plastic. 

“Just some leftovers we thought you might like. Muffins and cinnamon buns and things like that.”

“Thanks guys, you didn’t have to. We’re happy to contribute,” Kiara tells you. “In fact, me and Sarah were talking about maybe making it a regular thing. Like every Wednesday we bring some stuff from the garden, or fish that we’ve caught?”

“Oh my God, yeah, that’d be amazing,” you nod enthusiastically. “We can definitely figure out a system.”

“Perfect. I’ll put these inside. You guys want a drink or anything? I can show you around,” Kiara offers, opening the door wider in invitation. 

You glance over her shoulder into the room and then around the porch, behind you out to the water. You’re not sure why you were expecting JJ to just appear out of thin air in front of you. 

“JJ’s out on the dock, if you want to catch up,” Kiara posits, as if hearing your thoughts. You look at her and hold her gaze, and - unable to read what her expression means - nod. 

“I think I’ll go say hi. We didn’t get a chance to properly catch up,” you reply. You glance up at Mark. “You want to come with?”

“It’s alright. I’ll stay here and get the tour,” he tells you with a wink. You smile, press a kiss to his lips, and wander off with a wave to Kie, towards the dock. 

Feet thudding on the slabs of wood, the structure creaks as you walk to the shop. An American flag waves in the breeze. You run a hand along the thick rope bannister and glance down into the growth of plants and water weeds underfoot. I can’t believe they built all of this, you can’t help but think as you walk up to the wooden-slatted tackle-and-bait shop. As you walk into the store under the wooden ‘WELCOME’ sign, reggae music blesses your ears alongside the smell of incense. It’s jam-packed with miscellaneous water accessories: fishing gear, surfing gear, refreshments, you name it. There’s nobody behind the counter. You glance around and squint, catching onto a spot red through the window. JJ lies outside atop of a vintage cooler, feet crossed one over the other, arms tucked under his head. You can’t help but smile. Walking outside, you lean against the doorframe and fold your arms over your chest. 

“Well, as far as customer service goes, this is pretty crappy.”

He snaps up to sit like he has the joints of a ken doll. You laugh as he blinks his eyes awake, laying them on you. 

“Oh shit,” he says, clearing his throat, running a hand through his hair. “When’d you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. You looked pretty comfy there,” you say, amused. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a good nap spot,” JJ chuckles nervously, glancing down at where he just lay his head. He straightens his t-shirt and then looks back at you. His brows furrow. “Wait, what’re you doing here?”

“Came by to see the new place,” you reply, gesturing around you. “You offered.”

“Didn’t think you’d be in such a hurry.”

“No time like the present and all that.”

You’re acutely aware of how you’re avoiding mentioning Mark and how he’s currently being led around JJ’s former house and yard under Kie’s tow. 

“This is a pretty sick set-up,” you praise. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good, huh?” JJ grins, getting to his feet. “Here, you want a beer? We’re technically closed for business anyway.”

Laughing, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.” 

Cracking open the cooler, he reaches in and retrieves two ice-cold cans. One is tossed to you and you catch it, and a feeling of deja vu rings through you. JJ, younger, just as handsome, throwing you a can of beer at a kegger. He leans against the cooler and you against a wooden pillar. Cracking cans and the fizz of beer, and you take a refreshing sip. A comfortable quiet comes and the two of you catch one anothers eyes. You smile. 

“I don’t think I said earlier, but it’s really nice to see you again,” you tell JJ. 

He smiles, small and reserved. “Thanks. It’s nice seeing you too. Even if it is with Joe America over there.”

“Joe America?” you snort. “Come on, he isn’t that bad.”

“No, no, he seems…uh, he seems nice.”

“He is nice.”

“I believe it.”

“Well…good.”

That marked the end of that conversation. You take a sip of your beer and sigh, looking out to the view of sunset over the marshland. 

“I wish you could’ve seen it,” JJ suddenly says. You look over to him with a frown, confused. “El Dorado, I mean. South America. It was beautiful. Like actually fucking stunning out there.”

“Really?” you say, smiling. 

“Hell yeah,” he grins. “Like there was colours out there that I didn’t even think existed without, like, LSD, man.”

You laugh and he does too and you’re glad whatever awkwardness that just came passed quick like a seastorm. 

“I still haven’t gone farther than Charleston, so I guess I’ll have to live vicariously,” you lightheartedly remark. 

“Yeah, well, turns out there’s a pretty big world out there,” JJ grins. 

“Glad one of us got to see it,” you hum. 

“Nah, you’ll see it too. All of it. Even Paris.”

The city’s name hangs heavy in the air. It was more than just a throwaway comment. It was a secret message, as if JJ was speaking in code. I remember it. I didn’t forget. You wash down the adrenaline with another sip of beer. 

“But no place like home, huh?” JJ says, clearing his throat. 

“Probably helps now that John B ain’t a fugitive anymore,” you muse. JJ laughs, nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah, no, for sure.”

“Well, I’m glad you found your happiness, JJ,” you say, smiling at him. “I’m glad you found yourself out.”

“Ain’t we all?”

The two of you watch one another for a moment. His resting smile lingers on the edges of his thin lips. His round, soft cheeks that add to a boyishness about him that his jawline doesn’t allow. You always liked JJ’s hair though. A mop of blonde planted atop of his head with sun-bleached highlights and deep-sea lowlights. But he’s taking you in too. You can’t take the weight of his stare after a while. Taking a deep breath, pushing away from the beam, you ditch your half-drunk beer atop of the cooler. 

“Well, I better get going.”

“You sure? I mean, we can hang out a bit longer, if you like?”

You smile politely and shake your head. “I’m not the one driving, so…”

JJ looks over your shoulder and spots Mark. “Ah. Didn’t know Dollar Store Chris Evans was here, my bad.”

“JJ! Don’t be mean!”

“I ain’t being mean! If anything, that’s a compliment,” JJ defends. You roll your eyes. “Look, I’ll see you around though. It’d suck to go back to being strangers again when we’re both in the same place for a change.”

Despite the innocence of the offer, something in your gut tells you that you shouldn’t agree. You should set a boundary there, draw a line, and leave it in the past. So, really, you have nobody to blame but yourself for saying “I’d like that” with a smile in farewell, before walking back across the dock to your boyfriend. 

Salted Chips

JJ had always been in your life. However, in the past, he was more of a background character, like an NPC in a videogame that creators constantly add in like an Easter Egg. The kind of character you’re curious about, in terms of their past and their present, their wants and their fears, but the kind you never have the privy to get close to in that way. He’d be at parties, at the surf break, at the shops or at school, but he wasn’t in your life. Until he was. 

Fate came in the form of a seating plan for history class. 

You and JJ were classmates. Table buddies. At first, the conversation was nonexistent. Sometimes JJ wouldn’t show up to class at all, either bunking off or playing truant in the bathrooms to light up a joint. But sometimes he’d come to class, usually escorted by Pope, and you’d share an uncomfortable silence as you worked through the hour. But then came an assignment that needed to be done out of class, and numbers were exchanged and words were shared outside of ‘what did he say’ and ‘what’s the homework’ and ‘what answer did you get for five?’. At your prompting to start on the project, JJ offered up the Chateau to work at, John B’s house that was a renovated fishing shack on the marsh. 

To stimulate inspiration for the poster the two of you had to create - outlining the history of the American Civil War - JJ had offered up beers and a blunt, and you were glad to take him up on the offer. If you’re going to be doing schoolwork at the weekend, you might as well get something out of it other than mind numbing boredness. It seems you saying yes to JJ’s “gifts” put you in his good books. It’s as if you could see the moment his opinion of you changed. From there, it was as if the two of you had always known the other. Conversation came easy, banter even more so. Time spent together stretched outside of the classroom and instead into lunch breaks and evenings and weekends. He’d seek you out at keggers and hang with you at the beach. Somewhere in the roots of you friendship grew an attraction from the fondness. You noticed it in his lingering glances, his drifting gaze from your eyes to your mouth to your body. Later, you heard it in his words, finding innuendos in smalltalk, catching compliments like falling stars. Eventually, both slightly intoxicated, it came to a head, about three months into this natural-forming friendship. 

“Yo!”

You turn around, beer in hand, startled by the interruption. It’s JJ. He’s wearing a cap, squishing down his beautiful locks of blonde; the muted green pairs well with his t-shirt. His combat boots sink into the ground, damp from the rainfall earlier in the day. Everything smells piney and fresh. You lift a finger to your lips to coax him to be quiet. His brows quirk up, a bemused smile gracing his gorgeous face. God really does have favourites, it seems. 

“You good?”

“Sh! You’ll scare them,” you whisper. At his cocking head, confused, you fervently gesture for him to come over. He does. His presence by your side is almost overwhelming. The buzz from the liquor makes it difficult to keep your itching hands to yourself and your inhibitions at bay. “You see them?”

“See what?”

“The birds.”

“What?”

“Look, here,” you mumble. You lean close to him so you can point clearly with your finger, just along his line of vision. A whiff of JJ’s scent dusts your nose. He’s warm like he creates heat. Through the canopy of leaves, you can make out a single branch of a tree. In the nook, against the trunk, is a nest, and inside is a bunch of baby birds, cawing out for their mother, hungry, blind. You’d left them some salted chips on the floor, crumbled and scattered, in case the mother wanted to steal some to take up and gift. She probably wouldn’t, but something about their cries made you feel the need to do something, and it wasn’t as if you could offer up your beer. 

“Woah.”

“You see ‘em?”

“Yeah,” JJ breathes. “That’s sick, how did you see them?”

“I heard them first,” you tell him, keeping your voice low so as to not frighten them. “Needed some air.”

“The smoke from the campfire botherin’ you?”

“I swear to God, it targets me,” you sincerely reply, making JJ laugh. You finally retract your finger (still sticky from the Smores made earlier) and turn, looking up at him. He looks down at you. Some strands of hair stick out from under his cap, pressing against his forehead. His brows are almost permanently slanted, eyes bright in the dusk of the evening. His shark tooth necklace sits against his chest. JJ’s lips quirk at your staring. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re so pretty,” you say, shaking your head, smiling. The alcohol has given you too much confidence, it seems. Loose lips. His eyes widen in momentary surprise but he catches it, covers it well. Then, comes his mask of confidence. He gives you a cocky smile. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” he suavely replies. 

“Nah, I mean it. You’re really something, Maybank,” you smile, doubling-down. In for a penny and all that.  

His smugness fades into something more real. He doesn’t seem to know how to take compliments like that. Then, strangely, something like panic tugs his brows together. “I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”

Your frown of confusion seems to spur him on. 

“Being honest. Real. I’m…I’m pretty fucked up, y’know?”

“The best people are,” you murmur, meaning every word. 

“Nah, I mean it, though. I’m not…I don’t wanna hurt you.” JJ says it so quietly, so sincerely, that you get the sense that he’s never said it before. Maybe only thought it on dark nights, when you’re so alone with your thoughts it’s maddening. Smiling, shaking your head, you lift a hand to his cheek. Your heart hiccups at how he relaxes into your touch. 

“I don’t think you have to worry ‘bout that,” you whisper. 

You’re not sure who moves first, whether it’s him or you, but you end up a hair-width apart at the lips. His breath is hot as it fans onto your lips. Risk comes like a lightning rod and you take it, pushing onto your toes, connecting your lips with his. His hand finds yours and squeezes. That small gesture, as innocent as it is, tells you that you’re crossing this boundary together, from friends into something more. 

Pistachio Pastries 

The smell of coffee rouses you from sleep. You hum sleepily into your pillow, nuzzling in the scent of your boyfriend: peppermint and sage. A heavy palm gently pets your hair. 

“Wake up, sleepy,” Mark murmurs. 

You grumble in protest and he chuckles. The bed dips and the duvet lifts as he climbs back into the cocoon of warmth. Rolling over, you tuck yourself against him. He always slept in pyjamas. It was adorable. Nothing cheesy: just a simple shirt and flannel bottoms. His arm hooks around your waist and holds you against him. You swear to God, you could hide here forever. Mark was safety and security. Mark was the netting beneath a trapeze artist. Mark was the emergency brake in a racing car. 

“Wednesday again,” he says, stroking the skin of your back. “Kiara messaged the Instagram page today. Said one of them will drop off an order around one-ish.”

“Sweet.”

An alarm blares from Mark’s phone and he cusses, breaking apart from you to retrieve it and turn it off. You take the opportunity to sit up and grab your coffee. The steam tickles your nose as you blow on it. Routine. Mornings spent in the mini home Mark had made in his parents backyard, in their old shed. He brought you coffee in the morning and you brought him tea before bed. You’d be asleep by ten and awake by eight. Your shifts at the smoothie shop typically followed a Monday through Friday routine, with the exception of midweek, with Wednesdays reserved for The Stirring Spoon. Weekends passed in a blink. Then, you reset to continue with the same thing again. 

But that’s okay. Routine is okay. It’s reliable. Monotonous in a way that assures certainty. Besides, you liked your job, and your coffee, and your Stirring Spoon. But maybe it might be nice to stray from it all, just for a change. 

You carefully place your coffee back on the side table and look over to Mark. He’s scrolling on his phone, lips set in a line, brows tugged together in vague concentration. A thrill runs through your body at the thought, as you press several kisses to the skin of his neck. You feel him breath beneath you. Then a kiss comes to your forehead, quick like a grandparent to their least favourite grandchild. 

“Baby,” you hum, lifting a hand to rub your finger along his jawline. 

“Mhm?”

“Do you have any, like…things you wanna try.”

He takes a moment to think, looking up from his phone. A smile comes to his face and he looks down at you, and your body burns with anticipation. “Surfing. Was never that good at it but I’d like to try it again, y’know?”

It fizzles away like water atop of a dying flame. “Oh. Yeah, no, yeah…that’s…you should do that.”

He frowns. “You okay?”

“Well, I just meant more…in the bedroom. Like anything, I don’t know…” Your face burns like you’re a nun stumbling across a Playboy magazine. “Kinky?”

“Kinky?”

“Not like oh my God, kinky. Just…I don’t know…”

He quirks a brow, smiling at you in a teasing sort of way. “You got some kink you’re not telling me about?”

“Maybe,” you tell him, hoping it comes out seductive. 

“I don’t know,” Mark sighs, resting his head back against the wall. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and you lick over your lips. He grins, like something dawned upon him, and he dips his head suddenly to press his lips to yours. “Wanna know what I’ve always wanted to try?”

“Mhm,” you say, lifting your hands to cup his face and keep him near. Yes, your body practically cries. Tell me, tell me, tell me. 

“Well,” he stalls, kissing you again. You chase his lips, shortening in breath. “I’ve always wanted–” another kiss “-to try-” another kiss “-doing it in the shower.”

It’s hard not to deflate completely with disappointment. 

Wow, yeah Mark. Kinky. 

But when you open your eyes, you come face to face with a nervous, sweet, caring Mark. A Mark who always makes sure you feel good and safe. A Mark who would never walk past an elderly man struggling to cross the road. A Mark who would donate a twenty dollar bill he found on the roadside. And you can see it in his eyes, this burning passion, this shock at his own words, because for him, that was like confessing to watching gangbang porn in a Church. So, you plaster on a smile, feigning excitement. “No, yeah. That’d be fun. We should totally do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grin, kissing him again. He sighs, pushing back against you. Your body sparks up again. The feel of his hands on your sides is like static energy. “We should try it now.”

“Now?”

“Mhm,” you nod eagerly, kissing at his lips desperately. “Good way to start the morning, huh?”

“Maybe,” he says. He pulls away slightly, guilty as he adds, “but it’s been a while since I cleaned the bathroom. And I promised my mom I’d help her out today, and I gotta be good to go in like ten minutes so…”

“Oh.”

He kisses you fleetingly on the lips and then tosses the bedsheets off his lap. You watch him get up. “But maybe soon? Like Friday?”

Routine with scheduled sex. 

“Okay,” you say through a false smile. You sink against your pillow and watch him put on his slippers. The moment his back turns, you drop the expression. You’re so disappointed there doesn’t feel much point in trying to get off by yourself now, either. You don’t seem to fix your frown quick enough before he turns back around. 

“Oh, hey, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mark frowns. He lowers down so his eyes are level with yours. You pout like a child as you look at him. He pushes some hair off your face. “I swear, if I weren’t about to go help my mom, I’d be all over you right now.”

“Mhm.” Maybe you are being a bit selfish. He’s helping his mother for God’s sake! Smiling, properly this time, you jokingly warn, “I’m gonna hold you to that, Mark.”

“You better,” he winks. He kisses you before leaving the room, into the bathroom. Sighing, you roll on your back and blink up at the ceiling. You practise your mantra - Mark is good. Mark is good for me. Mark is good. Mark is good for me - and you get up to start your day. 

The Stirring Spoon is a good distraction from your whining libido. It’s hard to think about fucking when you’re comparing shapes of pasta. And yet, you still find a way. Because as you stack packets of spaghetti, you try and recall the last time you and Mark had really good sex. Not sex where it’s soft and nice and satisfying. Sex when you feel like you might cry or scream, just to cope with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Sex when you’re actually scared that you might have a heart attack from how fast your heart’s beating. Was it ever like that with Mark? Was it ever like that with anybody else?

Yes. 

“Hey.”

The very boy who just popped into your mind like a vision stands before you, crate in hand, smile on face, as if you manifested him. 

“JJ.”

“You good? You were looking at that spag pretty hard,” he asks, amused. 

“No, yeah, I’m good,” you say. You drop the pasta like it’s incriminating to what you were thinking about. Don’t tell JJ about the hot sex I was thinking about with him, pasta, please. “What’re you doing here?”

“Delivery from Kildare County Kitchen,” he says, dropping the crate down onto an empty spot on the table. “Some of Cleo’s less deadly version of her gumbo; a few sandwiches that Sarah whipped up; and some fish me and John B caught the other day.”

“Damn, that’s quite the haul,” you say, glancing into the crate and surveying its contents. “Thanks, JayJ.”

As you retrieve the items and lay them out carefully and neatly on the table, JJ shoves his hands in his short pockets and looks around the yard. “So. Loverboy here?”

“He’s busy today, helping his mom.”

“Ah. You short of a helping hand today, then?”

“Why? You want to help?” you say, half-joking. But JJ shrugs. 

“I’m not doing much. Why not?”

“Don’t the others need you back at the shop?”

“There’s five of them, I think they’ll manage,” JJ replies sardonically. He claps and rubs his hands together. “Where do I start?”

“Um…” You stand upright and scan the area, checking what looks the most chaotic. As if on cue, the local bakery van pulls up. “Oh, sweet. Delivery. You can help me unload and log inventory.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two of you walk over to the van, side by side, hands kept politely to yourselves. Small talk sits on your tongue but doesn’t make it into the world. 

“Morning Mr Parker,” you call. 

“Morning, darlin’,” he croons in his southern accent. “You too, Maybank.”

“Good to see you, sir,” JJ nods. 

“What you got for me today?” 

“Some good stuff, I’m not going to lie to y’all,” he grins over his shoulder before opening the doors to the back of the van. Mr Parker pulls out a tray of sealed baked goods. JJ steps in and takes it, and as he holds it you crack open the lid to peer in. 

“Pastries?”

“Pistachio pastries,” Mr Parker says proudly. His takes off his cap and brushes a hand through his short grey hair. “My wife got a bit carried away. People in this town don’t have that fancy of taste buds.”

“Maybe not on the Cut,” JJ mumbles, making you smile. 

“Well, be that as it may, glad I can contribute something to your little venture,” Mr Parker tells you. He squeezes your shoulder sweetly. “Y’all doing a good thing, with this here Stirring Spoon.”

“Thank you,” you say, overwhelmed by the simple praise. “Well, we appreciate any contribution, especially pistachio flavoured ones.”

With that, the three of you get to work carrying the four trays of baked goods to a spare table. Bidding Mr Parker farewell, you and JJ take pause against the table. 

“I think I’ve earnt a break.”

“You’ve been here less than an hour.”

“Time flies by when you’re having fun, and all that,” he says passingly as he cracks open one of the bakery tubs. He grabs one of the pastries and tosses it into his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews. “Holy shit. These are so good.”

“JJ, you’re not supposed to eat the–”

“--try one.” A pastry is shoved into your mouth. You glare at him but bite, and holy shit this is really good. It must read on your face cause JJ grins. “Yeah, right? So good.”

“Oh my God,” you mumble. The two of you smile at one another like you’re stealing cookies from a jar. 

“You remember that time we got high and raided Pope’s dad’s fridge?”

You laugh and nearly choke on the flaky pastry. “Oh my God, I totally forgot about that.”

“You were like a fucking racoon,” JJ sniggers. 

“You were the one that got me high in the first place.”

“I didn’t fucking drug you! You wanted to try it!”

“Yeah, I did,” you grumble, unwilling to accept responsibility for completely draining the Heyward fridge. 

“You’re cute when you’re high.”

You glance up at him. His smile is coy, like he knows he shouldn’t have said that. Because he shouldn’t. Rolling your eyes, you play it off as best you can. “Cute whilst I’m stuffing my face with questionable cheese?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shrugging. “You’re cute all the time though, so guess it’s not very hard for you to be even cuter high.”

“JJ, stop it.” Your tone is gentle but firm. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” JJ says. “Captain Vanilla.”

You hate how he isn’t completely wrong. “That’s not his name.”

“It’s just too easy,” he shrugs, playful as always. “The guy is a walking textbooked ‘good guy’.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” you mumble, picking out another pastry and studying the way it’s rolled. 

“Nothing, I guess. Just find it funny.”

“Funny how?”

“That you’d go from me to him.”

You glance up from the pastry to meet his gaze. “We never officially dated, JJ.”

“Same difference,” he shrugs. “But hey - you know you. You know what you want.”

“Exactly…” 

You do know you, don’t you? It sounds like such a crazy thing to question. But the older you get, the more you think you don’t know a thing about yourself. What’s your favourite colour? What’s your favourite animal? What do you want out of your future? What do you want out of a relationship? Journeying back to the morning, your mind replays the scenes like a horror movie. The worries of when the last time you felt passion in the bedroom feeds into worries of when the last time was that you felt passion, period. Oh no: it feels like an existential crisis might be coming on, about thirty years too early.

“Hey.” You snap out of your spiral. JJ forces a smile. “Just wanna know that you’re still living, not just secure. Y’know. As a friend.” 

Funnily enough, that does little to cheer you up. 

Croissants

JJ’s skin is warm against your cheek. Your face rests on his bicep, using it as a makeshift pillow, as you lay skin-to-skin, body-to-body. One of your legs is hooked over his, and his palm rubs large, mindless patterns against the sweat-sticky skin. The room is bathed in moonlight, the curtains drawn closed, and you can hear the sounds of the marsh from outside the Maybank residency. You wonder if JJ might have fallen asleep. His chest is rising and falling rhythmically and you can’t see his face from here, to tell if his eyes are open or shut. But then he sighs and you smile against his arm. 

“Tell me about your family,” you request in the quiet of the room. 

“What about them?”

“Anything, really. Like about your mom and dad; if you have any siblings,” you murmur. 

“Not much to tell,” JJ replies in a hum. 

“Still. Tell me anyway.”

“Tell me about yours,” JJ deflects. You crack a smile. 

“Alright,” you relent. “I live with my mom and my dad. She’s a waitress and he’s a mechanic.”

“You got any brothers or sisters?” he asks, his thumb massaging your upper leg. 

“I did,” you say, your voice turning softer. “An older sister.”

“What happened?”

Your lips press together. An image flashes into your mind like a jumpscare, of a coffin dressed in white daisies and lilies. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and will the memory away. It’s then that you decide to confide in JJ. 

“Do you know who Andy Warhol is?”

“I recognise the name,” he replies after a moment, not questioning why the sudden change in topic. 

“He was an artist. Painted a lot of pop-arty things.”

“Is that the freakshow who painted those boring-ass soup cans?” JJ wonders. You laugh quietly. 

“I wouldn’t describe him like that but yeah, that’s the guy.”

“What about him?” JJ asks. 

“He was in love with this man, way back when. He kept a diary and this man he was in love with died, and Andy was heartbroken. But he ain’t like to say that somebody had died. Instead, he used to write that ‘they went away’, like on a trip or somethin’,” you tell him. Your voice trails off towards the end, fearing JJ might laugh at you as you go on to say, “I don’t know. I think I’d like to say that about my sister.”

JJ shifts underneath you until the two of you are lying side by side, now able to see one another’s faces through the muggy darkness of the room. His eyes glow in the non-existent light, shining and present, gazing into yours. 

“Where’d she go, then? On this trip of hers,” he coaxes. Your lips part in surprise, and for some reason, you want to cry for his small act of kindness. Then, you smile, small and sombre. 

“To Paris, in France,�� you whisper. 

“She go to the Eiffel Tower?”

“Every day. She eats dinner there at night and watches it twinkle. For breakfast, she buys a croissant and sits by the Seine,” you murmur. Tears wet your eyes as you picture your lost sister, venturing the streets with the wind in her hair, kissing her plump cheeks. Your voice is thick when you continue, “it’s her dream to see all the stuff in the Louvre. She goes every week and keeps a note of where she’s been and where she wants to go.”

“Like the Catacombs?”

You laugh and sniffle. “Nah. They’re too creepy for her.”

“Damn straight,” JJ mumbles. “They scare the crap outta me.”

As a tear lets slip, trickling down your cheek, JJ reaches out his thumb and wipes it away. His hand lingers on your face and you feel yourself lean into his hold. It’s like he’s holding you up. He’s holding you together. You open your eyes into his. There’s a smile on his face, different to the others. More reserved, less obvious, so different to the JJ you’d known and heard of before. You’re terrified of losing it entirely or saying something especially stupid, and so instead you mouth two words: ‘thank you’. 

When he kisses you, it’s different too. There’s something about it, like a taste that wasn’t there before, and it lingers in your mind and mouth. It only grows as JJ deepens the kiss. Your hand traces his jawline and your fingers loop through the locks of his hair, and you tug him closer with a breath. The dance of your lips and tongues and teeth is growing more and more familiar by the day and it terrifies you how easy it has been to become accustomed to it. How easy it has been to become accustomed to JJ. Hands on your hips, JJ lifts you atop of him with a grunt, him rolling onto his back. You shrug the comforter off your back and straddle him. Your hands cradle his face, palms cupping his cheeks. You kiss him like he’s the antidote to all your ailments. Your mouth chases him in the teasing of his lips, breaking apart just to reel you back in. JJ’s teeth nip at your lower lip and pull, just so, just enough to have you whining and sighing like some lovesick fool. Maybe you are. 

“JJ,” you mewl, rocking back against him. He groans as you begin to torture his jawline and neck. Groans louder when you suckle on the tender skin by his ear, painting hickeys like a beautiful landscape. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips deep enough to leave delicious bruises. You feel him growing hard beneath you as you grind against him like some animal in heat. 

“Fuck, you’re so…Fuck…” 

Your lips continue their descent down his body. Kisses are peppered along his windpipe, bridging over his Adam’s apple, and you can feel every breath, every stutter, every sigh. Down his chest, bare and broad, and down his stomach. His hands are now free from your hips and instead they tether into your hair, combing through the strands. You look up at him from between his legs - he’s made space for you - and can make out his lazy smile through your hooded gaze. JJ’s looking down at you too. His eyes glow. 

You ghost a kiss over his boxers and he inhales a long, deep breath, his head tilting back into the pillows, eyes undoubtedly slipping shut. Lips upturning with a smile, your fingers tuck into the band of his boxers, and you pull them down his legs tantalisingly slow. Somewhere in the shadows of the room you hear him mumbling, ‘please.’ Taking him in hand, revelling in his short gasp, you guide him to your mouth. The smell, the feel - it all consumes you as you go down on him. The brush of bristly hair scratching against your nose, flooding your senses. JJ’s hand comes to the back of your head quick, as if guiding your pleasure, wordless praising your ways. Until it’s not wordless. 

“Fuck, that’s it…Taking me so fucking good, huh? Look so pretty like this…”

You hum around his length and he stammers out a moan. Your eyes flick up to take in the sight of his exposed neck, head thrown back, mouth hanging open as he lets noises slip through, shameless and sinful. And you love it, the way you can bring him to the brink, the way you can manipulate his satisfaction like moulding something out of clay. A finger here, a stroke there. The tip hits the back of your throat uncomfortably. You pull away with a damning pop and a trail of saliva connects the two of you. Resting your head against the apex of his thigh, you jack him off with your hand, almost mesmerised by the way he pulses in your hold. Maybe it’s the sounds he makes. JJ Maybank walks like he’s a God; it’s a power trip to have him weak at your hold. 

“Please, please, fuck…Jus’want your mouth, baby, please,” he begs through gritted teeth. His hand gently yet firmly pushes at your head, trying to guide you back to him, and you feel a giggle bubble up through your throat. It feels unnatural, this version of you. Sexy, seductive, sly. 

“You want my mouth?” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throbbing dick. 

“Fuck - yes, yes, please,” he groans. You glance up at him and meet JJ’s gaze. His hair, damp with sweat, hangs over his forehead, dangling over his eyes. A sadistic smile is on your face as you pull away, easing your hand off him too. His brows furrow. It’s like something snaps inside of him - some restraint he was holding breaking like the overstretching of elastic. His hands are on your in a second, gripping and grabbing at your body like you weigh no less than feathers, and you gasp as he tosses you onto your back. He’s on top of you, ravishing your throat and collarbone so mercilessly, you’re gaping at the ceiling, eyes wide. 

“Think that’s funny, huh? Wanna see how much you like it?”

You stammer something out; you don’t even know yourself if it’s a yes or no. All you know is you want him - you need him - on you, in you. Anything. JJ doesn’t make you wait. His hands pull your panties away swiftly. A finger slips all too easily through your slit and you gasp, eyes rolling shut. His laugh is deep, crooning, cruel in your ear. 

“So fucking wet for me, hm? Such a fucking slut. Wanna see how it feels?”

“P-please.”

The stretch of your walls isn’t unpleasant as he eases a finger in. You let out a wanton moan. It pumps leisurely inside, the foreign metal of his ring overwhelming, and the brush of the tip of his thumb against your clit has you panting from the pleasure. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”

“Fuck…”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. Then the torture begins, of the instant movement of his finger, in and out, in and out, before easing away so suddenly it’s like he was never there. After that, the faintest of pressure on the exposed skin at his mercy. His damp finger trailing the inside of your thigh. He repeats this cycle until you’re almost in tears. Your hands clutch the bedsheets in fists, feet writhing uselessly at the head of the bed, kicking at the flimsy pillows. You know he’s gloating from the power he holds. Something tells you he doesn’t get this much control in most aspects of his life. Something tells you he gets off this just as much as you. “You wanna come? Do you?”

“Fuck! Please, please, JJ, please. I’ll do anything, please, please,” you blubber. You don’t care how embarrassing it sounds; how much it pleases him. All you care about is feeling that hot, blinding, pulsing pleasure consuming your every nerve, every bone, every fibre of your being. His breath is hot against your collarbone. JJ kisses the lobe of your ear in such a tender way you wouldn’t be able to fathom the magic he works with his hands below the belt. And as you finally break, tumbling over the edge, letting out a fucked-out sob when you do, you can make out JJ’s low voice, his Southern accent thick like molasses. 

“That’s it, baby. Make a mess on my fingers.”

Smores 

Despite telling Mark where you’re going, it still feels like sneaking around behind his back as you walk up to the Pogue’s house. But this isn’t anything nefarious. This is just you breaking routine. This is you catching up with old friends, current friends, and having fun. Sharing some drinks, smoking a joint or two, sitting around a campfire. Good, old fashioned fun just like when you were sixteen. 

Yep. That’s all. 

“Hey yo! There she is!” JJ hollers the moment you come into view. 

“Hey!” you smile, waving. In your other hand is a bag filled with a six pack of beer, a packet of graham crackers, some chocolate and a bag of marshmallows. You ditch it by the cooler to hug everyone hello. JJ’s last. His arms wrap around you like tree vines, secure and strong, and it’s familiar in a way that has you lingering. Mark. You break apart and take a seat on the opposite side of the campfire to him. 

“What’s in the bag, mystery girl?” the girl you now know as Cleo asks. 

“Some refreshments,” you say, lifting up the six pack. That earns a few whoops and hollers of approval from the already tipsy group. “And some snacks.”

“Smores?” Sarah gasps. She takes the bag of marshmallows from you. 

“Just like old times,” you say. Your eyes catch JJ’s. He’s watching you. 

“Let’s light these bad boys up,” John B announces. The gang is vocal in their approval. Sticks and twigs are gathered for skewers. Marshmallows dangle over the open flames that lick into the dusky air. A marshmallow shoves at yours and you glower at JJ. 

“Leave my marshmallow alone.”

“Hey, this is America. I got rights, y’know?”

“Says who?”

“The constitution,” he retorts, grinning. You roll your eyes, trying and failing to bite back your smile. 

“Y’all better stop it,” Cleo says in her thick Jamaican accent. “I ain’t wanting any marshmallows going to waste.”

“You heard her,” you playfully quip at the blonde haired boy. He rolls his eyes at you. He’s smiling. The amber of the fire paints his face like an oil artwork. What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? 

No, no, stop it. Stop it! God, what is wrong with you? This is just because you and Mark have been a bit distant lately. Yes, that’s all. You’re getting stuck on nostalgia. It’s a mind’s trick. It didn’t work before with JJ so who’s to say it will again. The two of you are friends - he’s been a good friend - and you don’t need to go muddying the waters. You punish yourself by staring into the flames and trying to make images of Mark’s face in the fire. 

The night spurs on with drinks that wash down the sickly sweet snacks. You listen to the tales of El Dorado and laugh at the reminiscences of youthful madness when you were all in high school. It isn’t until you’re back in the bubble of the Pogues that you realise how much you missed it. It’s like rediscovering your favourite movie from childhood. It brings a certain comfort that few things can match. They ask about The Stirring Spoon and you recount the tale of how you came about with the idea, of how you got it off the ground. Nobody asks about Mark and you’re ashamed that you don’t feel the urge to bring him up, either. 

You go for another swig of your beer to find it empty. The cooler by John B is empty too, upon investigating. You drop the lid. 

“You guys got any more beers?”

“Probably some down at the fish and tackle shop,” Kiara tells you. 

“Thanks,” you say, starting towards the dock. The further you walk, the more the vivacious chatter turns into a humming like the crying cicadas and croaking frogs and cooing owls. The water laps at the wooden pillars and you smile, letting your eyes slip shut for a moment as you walk. Nature is so wonderfully peaceful. The cooler is full of bait and chum, but there’s a small section for the beers. You retrieve one and drop the lid to find JJ standing in your peripheral. 

“Holy shit!”

“Sorry!”

“What the fuck, man?” you laugh. 

“Just wanted a refill too,” he says, shooting you a squiffy smile. His hair is dishevelled. He seems to wear caps less now, you note. You’re happy about that. In your tipsy state you can admit your attraction with less shame. You chalk it up to appreciating beauty the way one can appreciate a perfect sunset or timeless painting. To stop your staring, you open the cooler and hand him a can. “Thanks.”

“Hey, cheers,” you say, holding your drink out. He clinks his against yours. “To old friends.”

The two of you take a drink. Neither of you go to move back to the other Pogues (who are seemingly in some weird charades battle that is far from quiet). JJ gestures over your shoulder. “You seen the boat yet?”

“The H.M.S?” 

“Nah, the new one,” JJ answers. 

When he walks past you, you catch a whiff of his smell and it reminds you of home. You turn and follow him. He steps up onto the large boat. It’s painted bright green and in yellow paint, the name reads The Snapper. JJ offers you a hand and you take it, letting him help you up onto the boat. You feel your phone vibrate in the pocket of your shorts but you’re in no mood to check it. 

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

“So sweet,” you agree, looking around. JJ wanders over to the main console and flicks on an overhead light. He glows beneath it. When he takes a seat on the bench, you do the same, sitting opposite. Sighing, you lean your head back against the brutal plastic. “This is the life.”

“Yeah? You miss the marsh?”

“I miss it all,” you quietly confess. 

You can hear the rustle of clothes and the flick-flick of a lighter. The smell of cannabis drifts into the air. “Here.”

Opening your eyes, you lift your head to find a joint extended out to you. Smiling, you take it with thanks and have a hit, then a second, then a third. You haven’t smoked in what feels like forever. Mark doesn’t like the smell; says it makes him feel sick. You wonder why you stopped indulging in something you enjoyed just because of that, even on your own time. 

“Thanks,” you say, passing the joint back. You ditch your beer can to the side. One poison at a time would be best in these sticky situations, you reckon. 

“What’d you mean, ‘you miss it all’?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You gaze off into the distance; it’s hard to make out much definition in the dark, save for some lights of houses in the far distances and the silhouette of plants and trees. “I feel like my life is so…‘same’ now.”

“Same is good.”

“Sometimes,” you say. “But I keep thinking about what you said to me, the other day. About being secure but still living. What if…What if I’m not living?”

“Well–”

“--I mean, look at you guys! You went to El Dorado! You found El Dorado, and the Royal Merchant, and the Royal Merchant’s treasure, and the Cross of Santo Domingo. What did I find? A mouldy tomato in a box of potatoes.”

JJ cracks up and you roll your eyes. “It’s not funny,” you mutter, smiling nonetheless. You take the joint back and have another drag. Relief fills your system. The muscles in your face loosen along with your mouth. “It’s pathetic. I’m nearly twenty-one and I’ve been as far as Charleston and have about a handful of exciting memories to my name.”

“Woah, come on now,” JJ chuckles, taking the blunt back. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on yourself? You heard what Mr Parker said: that Stirring Spoon thing is awesome, and that was all you. You’re feeding the community, bringing people together. That’s way cooler than some shiny fucking  stones.”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Guess I’m just jealous of you.”

“Ha! Yeah, don’t be,” JJ sarcastically berates. A shadow comes to his face. Foot in the mouth syndrome curses you.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re good. I sometimes forget how bad it was too, with how things are now,” JJ admits. He smiles at you and takes another hit. “But I guess I didn’t fully let you in then, huh?”

“You think?” you jest. He laughs, thankfully, and you inhale the sweet scent of the herb. “Guess I just get stuck on the good memories from before. Like all the days skipping school to surf. And how the summers felt like they could go on forever. Or that time we broke into City Hall, or pranked Topper’s house.”

“Damn, I guess we did get up to a lot of shit, huh?”

“Damn straight,” you grin. Following the dance, you take the joint back. 

“Well, I can think of some other memories, too,” JJ says. His grin is telling, tongue poking through his teeth. You bite back your smile. 

“Don’t,” you warn. 

“What?” he chuckles. 

“Don’t! That’s dangerous territory,” you tell him. You point your joint at him. “That’s no man’s land.”

“Oh man!” JJ groans, tossing his head back. “Why’d you have to call it that!? You know that’s like calling a moth to a fire or whatever!”

“What?” you giggle, eyeing him. 

“Telling a guy not to do something is the exact thing to do to get a guy to want to do something,” JJ argues nonsensically. You laugh, shaking your head at him. He holds your gaze and you feel your smile settle into your skin like footprints into damp sand. “They were pretty good memories, huh?”

“Yeah,” you quietly say. “They were pretty good.”

“Remember that time we did it on the beach.”

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s little conviction in your words. You can’t take his eyes anymore, the blue dragging you under like currents in a riptide. You look down at the joint and fixate on the way the embers burn at the paper. 

“Or that time–”

“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”

You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”

Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”

“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise. 

“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers. 

Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply. 

“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”

You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour. 

“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”

“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”

“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”

“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning. 

“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”

“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”

“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort. 

“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”

“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means. 

“You want me to show you?”

“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat. 

JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next. 

JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–

Your hand clutches his jaw and you pull him in. His lips crash against yours in a breath. You kiss him like you won’t ever kiss him again. He sighs against you in the hurried mesh of mouths, groaning as your tongue brushes against his, tasting him for the first time in years. It’s like finding a childhood toy and it smells like nostalgia. It’s like eating a baked good and it tastes like a specific holiday. It’s like smoking your first joint and it feels like floating. 

Until you’re not. 

Your body falls back down to earth with a thud. You shove JJ away as if he’s flammable and you’re the deadly spark. Your mouth hangs open in shock, your eyes filling with horror, and the worst feeling you’ve maybe ever felt overcomes you so suddenly, you worry you might be sick. 

Guilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper. You lift a hand to your lips and your fingers brush against the damp of his spit that lingers, and it confirms that it was all real. “Oh my God.”

JJ’s lips move to try and formulate words but nothing happens. He looks just as stunned as you do. His eyes are wide, lips swollen, cheeks pink. Those three words bang about your brain as you take in the sight of him. It’s not at all unfamiliar. 

Hot ash from your joint drops onto your thigh and you cuss, brushing it off. You toss the joint into the sea behind you as if it’s the culprit, the plotter, behind all of this. Then you’re on your feet and rambling out excuses. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I think it was - it was definitely the weed. I really should go, it’s so late. I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I have no idea-”

It’s as you’re about to step off the boat and onto the wooden pier that JJ’s hand locks around your wrist. It freezes you in place once more and you want to climb out of your body and scream at yourself. Instead, you look down at him. 

“You can stay, y’know,” JJ whispers. There’s a pleading in his eyes, a tenderness that you haven’t known before in him, and you finally know how Eve must have felt with that damn serpent in Eden. Temptation at its finest, dressed up in blonde, unruly hair and dreamy eyes and sculpted muscles and a graphic tee. 

Mark. 

You shake your head and snatch your hand free. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

And no matter how vehemently you tell yourself that you mean it as you hurry away from the pier and from the house, you know you don’t. 

Cheap White Wine 

The tart tanginess of the wine is sharp on your tongue as you take another swig. It’s late, or perhaps early, and the Chateau is illuminated by amber and orange from lamps. It’s raining outside as hurricane season rattles on, but you and the Pogues could care less. When you have wine, you really have everything you need. 

“Come on, come on!” Kiara laughs, egging on you to loop your arm in hers. The two of you line dance together to an old noughties CD in the player. You swing one another around in a tipsy haze to the upbeat tempo. Pope and John B heckle and holler from the pull-out sofa, toasting their beer cans up in approval. You’re happy here, like this, in your bubble. As the song comes to a close on a major chord, you and Kiara giggle and take joking bows to your audience. You frown when you look around the room, not finding JJ anywhere. 

“He’s on the porch,” Pope says, seemingly catching on. 

“Thanks,” you smile, a little embarrassed that you’re that easy to read. Taking the wine, you venture out the door, closing it behind you as another song starts up. Kie’s cheer and begging for John B to dance is muted through the shutters and windows. 

JJ sits on the sofa, a joint lit up, legs outstretched on the coffee table. He glances up at the sound of someone coming out and smiles at the sight of you. 

“Hey. Can I join?” you wonder. 

“Course,” he hums, shuffling a cushion in invitation beside him. You sit and lean against him, hitching your feet up onto the table beside his. He knocks one of his shoes against yours teasingly and you smile. Through the netting of the porch, you can make out the lashing of rain in the yard. It’s pitter-pattering is soothing like a nursery rhyme. You sigh and let your eyes slip shut. “Having fun?”

“Always,” you mumble, making him laugh. “You got any dreams?”

“Like sexy ones?”

“No,” you giggle, elbowing him, making him let out a few laughs too. “Like actual dreams. Ambitions. A wish.”

JJ takes a pause for thought. You have a swig of your wine as you wait, revelling in the sound of his heartbeat through his shirt, steady and constant. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Your heart sinks with disappointment. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. It felt as though every time JJ came close to pulling back the curtain and letting you see a glimpse, he caught eye of something that scared him and he slipped it shut again. He told you what he wanted to tell you and kept the rest close to heart. You weren’t going to pry his cards from his body to see them, but it would be nice if he showed you them once in a while. It felt like the more time you spent with him, the less you knew. You could guess things from small clues as if playing a boardgame. He hardly went home, never mentioned his mother, and his father came into conversation with a shadow. He spoke lowly of himself, presumed the worst before others could, and it saddened you how clearly he believed everything he said. JJ couldn’t see himself the way you did. 

“I do,” you whisper, hoping it might entice him to share. 

“Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“I want to start a kitchen.”

“Huh?”

“Like a community kitchen thing. Not a bakery or a restaurant, just a place for all kinds of food, for all kinds of people, y’know? A good thing, like that. My sister used to help out at a soup kitchen and…I don’t know. I always liked that.”

JJ squeezes your thigh in acknowledgment. “Sounds fuckin’ amazing.”

“Thanks.”

In the Chateau, John B and Kiara laugh and Pope speaks loudly over them, something teasing, and you smile. The smell of weed fills the air before you and blends in with the notes of your wine and the telling scent of JJ. You wonder if the smell of you affects him in the same way; if the flavours of your perfume haunt him when he can’t sleep the way his cologne does for you. Suddenly, somewhere in the serenity of the moment comes a calamitous realisation, like a rumble thunder breaking the rain. 

You were falling in love with JJ Maybank. 

Biscuits  

Food poisoning. That’s what you’d told Mark. The heavy sickness that had sat in the bottom of your stomach like a boulder since last night lingered still. You hoped it was a hangover, but that passed with an advil. You knew what this was. 

You only escaped the guilt in your sleep. The moment you returned home, you climbed under the sheets of your bed like a child hiding from the bogeyman. Sleep was the only reprieve, though it didn’t come easy, and the second you came to in the morning, the first thought in your head was the look on JJ’s face just before his lips touched yours. 

Fuck. 

Your phone pings with another message that is no doubt from Mark and you can’t bring yourself to look at it. It doesn’t help that there’s a framed picture of the two of you staring at you from the bedside. It was his gift to you for your one month anniversary, because of course Mark cares about one month anniversaries. You hadn’t gotten him anything; you had to make up some lie that it was late in the mail, and then run to the shops that night. Just further proof that you don’t deserve him. 

Hello, hell? I’d like to reserve my spot in advance. Queen sized bed please, for me and my whorish ways. Much love. 

When the phone begins to ring you groan aloud and send it straight to voicemail. You bury your head beneath the pillow and close your eyes, but the memories haunt you like flashbacks. JJ’s eyes. JJ’s lips. The way he tasted, the way he bit your lower lip just so, in that way that only he knows, in the way that he always knew drives you crazy–

“Stop it!”

Hello, hell? Quick update: I think I might be going insane, too. Just thought I should preface you. 

Somewhere in your self-loathing, you manage to drift off into another restless sleep. It’s broken by a tapping on your door. Groaning, you force yourself out of the safety of your bed and wander to your door, expecting to find your mom. Instead, your head tips back to see the face of your boyfriend. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is thick with concern, brows knitted with worry. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Thankfully, you didn’t have to lie with that one. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to check on you,” he replies. He steps into your room and you make space, sitting on your bed. He closes the door behind him. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, sorry, uh…I was just feeling really frail, y’know?”

“Oh, baby,” Mark sighs. He sits beside you on the bed and places his large palm on your forehead. His brown curly hair sits in perfect ringlets atop of his head. One dangles over his forehead, out of formation, and it reminds you of JJ. Just how you went from me to him, JJ had said. Were they that different, after all? “You got a temperature?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You gently push his hand off your face. “I think I just need to sleep.”

“Well, I’m here to take care of you.”

“Really?” You hope the dread in your voice isn’t obvious. 

“Course. You’d do the same for me,” he smiles. He lifts a bag you didn’t even notice he was carrying and shows you each item. “Mama’s homemade biscuits. She’s real worried about you, y’know?”

“I’m fine,” you insist, ��just a bit sick. I think the worst of it has passed.”

“That’s good, then. I’ll make you a hot drink, yeah? We can watch a movie or something. You get cosy,” Mark tells you. You nod and try your best to smile. Mark leans forward and presses a fleeting kiss on your lips, and the sickness comes back tenfold. You want to cry the second he’s out of your room. 

Mark is good. Mark is good for you. But what if you’re not good for Mark? 

Chocolate Chip Cookies

“I don’t understand.”

You sigh, rubbing tiredly at your forehead. Bile lingers in the back of your throat but you swallow it down, alongside the feeling of self-reproach. This was it: the conversation you’d been dreading. The conversation that needed to happen. You’d rehearsed your words in the mirror like practising lines for a play. Journals and diaries filled with debate, as to whether you stay or bolt. But now was as good a time as any, and you knew in your mind what the right thing to do was. You can’t risk getting in the car accident if you step out of the vehicle. 

“Did I do something?” JJ then asks, his voice weak, naked. You meet his gaze and shake your head firmly. 

“No,” you breathe, “no, you ain’t do nothing, JJ.”

“Then I don’t get it,” he repeats, stronger this time. Frustrated. You knew none of this would be easy. 

“Look,” you cut yourself off with a sigh. You shuffle your crossed legs, sitting on JJ’s bed in the Chateau in a way that you never have before, as if you’ve never stepped foot inside his life. “My parents are heading to Charleston for a couple months anyway, to stay with my grandmother and help look after her, and…well, maybe it’s for the better, that we have this distance sooner rather than later.”

“Distance?”

“You’ve been removed, JJ,” you mumble, hoping not to sound accusatory. “And that’s okay, I know you’re busy. I mean, you told me from the start that you don’t do the whole relationship-thing. But I don’t think I can stay, not right now.”

“Okay, is this some kinda joke?” JJ snaps. He gets to his feet and paces a few steps in the small throughway of his bedroom. Taking off his hat, JJ rakes his fingers through his hair. He looks at you, eyes fiery, expression hard as if to shield from the hurt that you don’t mean to cause. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I thought we were fine.”

“We are fine,” you insist. Sighing, you try and find the best way to explain yourself without giving it all away. “Look, I ain’t meaning that you’re a bad guy or that you’re damaged or anything like that. I don’t think that, not at all. But…How can I explain this?”

JJ takes a moment or two to calm himself as you hang your head and clench your eyes, searching for the perfect turn of phrase to make your thought process make sense. You find it. Lift your head, soften your gaze at the hurt on his face, and try your best to smile through the sorrow. This wasn’t easy for you either. 

“You know when you see a tornado?”

He stares at you for a short while before nodding, urging you to continue. 

“Things that like…They’re always so pretty for afar. So mesmerising, how nature can create something like that. Stunning, really. Epic. But then, you get too close, and you get sucked in. And it’s just chaos and there’s no way out of it without being broken.”

JJ nods again, pursing his lips. 

“I think that’s what might happen here,” you whisper. “If I stick around.”

“I don’t get it. You’re saying I’m gonna break you?”

“No, I’m saying…I’m saying you’re not in a spot right now to give me what I need. That ain’t your fault, JJ, but I can’t let myself stay knowing that I’m gonna have my heartbroken. I wish I could - I wish I could just wing-it like that - but I can’t.”

There’s a pregnant pause that JJ drags out, staring at you as if trying to see into your head, searching for some lie. Sighing, he must come up empty, as he takes the spot beside you on the bed again. You test the waters, leaning against his chest, feeling the warmth radiate through his t-shirt. One of his hands lifts and strokes your hair, smoothing it down. 

“I really do care ‘bout you, y’know? Like, that ain’t fake,” JJ admits in a hushed tone. 

“I know, JJ,” you reply, just as soundless. “I just think you gotta figure yourself out before you can…”

“...love you?” JJ hesitantly whispers, after you lose nerve. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Mhm.”

“You can’t love me ‘til then, either?”

Laughing sadly, you shake your head against him. He really couldn’t tell how much you’d fallen for him already, could he? “I don’t think you gotta worry ‘bout that ever, JJ.”

A soft kiss is planted on your forehead. “So…Just gotta do some soul searchin’, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that,” you hum. “But hey, I tell you what.”

You break apart from the comfort of his hold, tilting your head so you can look up, into his eyes. The pain in JJ’s gaze tears you like wrapping paper, and it’s worse to know it’s your fault, but you know that it’s the only way to save you both from further pain. It isn’t the right time, and that’s a shame, and it isn’t fair, since you’ve memorised the outline of him and drawn him into all your plans and daydreams. But you can hear it when you talk and feel it when you sleep together, this detachment, this removal of himself, that can’t come until he’s healed in a way that he’s far away from now. There’s something pulling him away from you, an adventure of sorts, and you don’t want to keep him from it. You want JJ to love you but you want him to choose you, too. And until then, you don’t have it in yourself to sit around on the sidelines, waiting for your heart to be broken. It’s like sitting a toddler in front of a plate of chocolate chip cookies but demanding them not to touch; the temptation might just kill you. 

“What?” JJ gently prompts, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

Your smile is sick with inner lamentation. “If you do figure yourself out, after some soul searchin’ and all that, then chances are I’ll still be here. So, I guess, if you ever feel like fallin’ then lemme know. You can catch me on the way down.”

JJ’s smile is beautiful, even when his eyes are wet with unshed tears. You lean up and press a fleeting kiss to his lips, but you don’t let yourself linger. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll never leave. You murmur some sort of goodbye, making an excuse that you should get going, and JJ doesn’t argue. He watches you as you stand, waves farewell with two-fingers as you leave, and you walk home with your heart halfway broken but more whole than it might’ve been if you stayed and tried to make this impossible thing work. JJ wasn’t ready to fall in love, not yet, but you already had. 

Ham and Cheese Sandwiches  

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I promise,” you reply to Mark, smiling reassuringly. You wonder if it looks like a grimace. It feels like one. Even touching him makes you want to cry, as you brush your hand atop of his on the table. Your feigned food poisoning was two days ago now but Mark was still worried for your health, likely because you were still acting so withdrawn and drained. It’s hard to sleep when you’re consumed by guilt and confusion. “Why don’t you see if Nancy needs a hand in the kitchen, yeah? I can work on the inventory out here.”

“You sure? I don’t mind helping.”

“I’m sure,” you nod. “I can come get you if I need anything.”

“You better,” he grins. He dips his head and kisses you and it takes everything inside of you not to pull away like a flinch. It’s not him. It’s you. You feel like you’re poison. Like JJ’s kiss has infected you and you can’t get Mark sick too. His brown curls bounce as he walks back to the building. You busy your mind with counting tins of soup. The Stirring Spoon had never had so many posters, so many new recipes, with how much you’d been trying to keep yourself busy. You picked up extra shifts at the Smoothie Shop to avoid Mark during the daytime, and you submerged yourself in your voluntary-planning work and ‘early nights’ to avoid him during the night. It wasn’t fair to him but you didn't know what else to do. 

Well, that’s a lie. You know exactly what you should do, but denial is so much easier. 

Ducking down, you grab another box of leftover soup from a local supermarket. They’d recently changed providers and all the old stuff had to go. You were thinking of making toasted sandwiches with soup. Grunting, you lift the box onto the table. The sun beats down on you as if the universe is punishing you. Good, it’s the least I deserve. 

You can spot him anywhere, even blind. He’s in the far corner carrying a smaller box than usual, compared to his crate. A sudden wave of panic comes over you and you speed walk over to him. He frowns as you approach. 

“You good? Hey!” 

You grab his arm and drag him out of sight from the field, behind an overgrown bush. “W hat are you doing here?” you hiss. 

“Bringing sandwiches?” he replies, as if it should be obvious. “Are you okay?”

“JJ, you can’t be here,” you snap. “Mark is literally in the other building!”

“So?” 

“So? Do you…Do you not remember what happened the other night?” you ask, calming down slightly. 

JJ sighs and puts the box down on the floor. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. “Look, clearly you spun out. I ain’t gonna mention it if you don’t want me to.”

“Wait…Really?”

“Jesus Christ, I ain’t a homewrecker,” JJ chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. You want to crack a smile but you think your face might be permanently stitched in perpetual concern forever. His laughter dies. “Listen, I think you got some stuff to figure out, a’right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get offended! I’m jus’ saying…” JJ cuts himself of with a sigh and brushes a hand through his hair. He pinches the bridge of his nose. You missed all his little ticks and quirks. “Look, don’t kill me for sayin’ this, I’m just tryin’ to be honest. I don’t think Mark’s the right guy for you.”

“I-”

“I’m sorry, a’right? I don’t think you want to admit it either but…I think you gotta be honest. You don’t love him, okay? And that’s a’right, I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. I just think you need to make a choice.”

“What does that mean? A choice?” you quietly ask, terrified for his answer. 

His smile is sad as JJ shrugs. “I was an idiot to lose you once, I ain’t gonna lose you again - not if I can help it. If Mark’s who you want - if Mark makes you feel like you’re living - then I’ll never bring it up again. Hell, I’ll stay away from you forever, if you want. Least, I’ll try to. I don’t know if I can be held accountable for when I’m drunk but- look, now I’m getting side tracked. The point is:”, JJ speaks with his hands,  “if Mark isn’t the one for you…I’m here to catch you, y’know?”

You blink at JJ and blink away the tears. You’re not sure if you can form words right now, not even sure what words they would be, so you try your best to nod. JJ tries another smile. 

“There’s some sandwiches from Kie and Sarah for today. I hope it all goes okay. Just…lemme know. Or don’t, y’know? Either way,” he trails off with a shrug. You feel cemented into the dirt as JJ backs away. Then he’s gone. Your eyes slip shut. Some weird hybrid of JJ and Mark’s faces fill your thoughts. 

‘If you ever feel like fallin’ then let me know. You can catch me on the way down.’ 

‘I’m here to catch you.’ 

You need to figure this out and fast. It wasn’t fair to anybody, not even yourself. Dragging things out doesn’t make it any easier, it only delays the inevitable, like tediously inching a bandaid off the skin. Sometimes you just have to rip. You just have to prepare for the aftermath.

How ironic, how when you were sixteen it was you waiting for JJ to figure himself out, and now it’s your turn. It’s a shame you were never all that much of a fan of irony. 

Cinnamon Buns 

Baking is therapeutic. The precision of weighing out the ingredients; the cathartic relief from beating together butter and sugar until fluffy like clouds; the tapping and cracking of eggs; the rhythmic folding of flour; the soon-to-arrive reward for your labour. You like baking when life gets stressful. Few things are so systematic, so simple, so quick to resolve, as baking. Life is more complicated than that. 

Mark and JJ. Two sides of different coins. Neither good, nor bad. Human, just like you. 

As you prepare the batter for cinnamon buns, you try to make sense of everything. Figure yourself out, as JJ had put it. 

Mark was designed to be easy to fall in love with. It was as if the universe had a recipe for him, everything the girls crave, the people fawn over in romance novels, the parents pray for in their child’s partner. Responsible; caring; thoughtful; kind; secure; safe. Mark was good. There was no other way to put it. Hell, you met him at a voluntary community kitchen. He gave you stability like a white picket fence. Perfect and practised, like he’d been waiting for that his whole life. But you found yourself restless in the fairytale. Found yourself itching for change, for chaos, for clutter. He was sentimental in a way you weren’t. That wasn’t to say you were heartless - the two of you just loved differently. 

JJ Maybank? He wasn’t designed for it in the same way, but it was impossible to not fall in love with him. You knew it from the moment your paths crossed, back when you were sixteen and the two of you tumbled through two months together. That’s why you left in the first place. To save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that it would bring, because sixteen-year-old JJ was in no place to commit to anybody. You assumed that with time your feelings would fade away and when you met Mark, you believed they had. You liked Mark - that wasn’t false - and you had feelings for Mark. But the love you had for JJ didn’t vanish. Like energy, it could only be transferred. It went into the back of your mind as if in hibernation but the moment JJ waltzed back into your world, it was awake. It was impossible to ignore. 

Mark was the netting beneath a trapeze artist, but JJ was the acrobat. Mark was the emergency brake in a racing car, but JJ was the driver. But JJ was safety too. He made you feel safe, but he also made you feel alive. 

And you wanted to feel alive. 

Mark was routine. He was predictable. You could see the next five, ten, twenty years of your life laid out nice and neat with Mark. But did you want that? Did you want to give up the adventure? The chaos? The things you missed so desperately. 

As you drizzle the topping on top of the cinnamon buns, you summarise your scrambled thoughts into one neat realisation: you wouldn’t have kissed JJ if you truly wanted Mark. 

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as you walk to Mark’s house. The buns sit neat in the tupperware and you’re careful not to shake them. His door looks like a tombstone as you knock on it. There’s a noise from inside and the door opens. Mark smiles down at you. He’s dressed in a baby-blue waffle sweater and it’s so undeniably, so wonderfully him. 

“Hey!” he grins. 

“Can I come in?” you ask. It sounds ridiculous asking that when you used to sleep in this house almost daily. 

“Course,” Mark replies. He opens the door further and you slip inside. It shuts behind you. You place the tupperware on the countertop, taking too much time in letting go. “You alright?”

“Mhm. I just…I think we should talk about some stuff,” you say, feeling your voice losing power. 

“Alright. Come, sit,” he urges. You do as he asks and take the spot on the bed beside him, leaving a gap. “What’s up?”

You fumble your fingers together and stare intensely at your hands, racking your mind for the words, for where to start. You’d practised this so many times in the mirror. Childish. 

“I did something and I need to tell you, because you’ve always been so good to me, and so honest with me, and it isn’t fair to hoodwink you.”

“Okay,” Mark faintly replies. 

You take a steady breath in. Mark is good. He deserves the truth. “I went to see JJ last week, and one thing led to another, and we kissed.”

For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the sounds of the air conditioning unit humming as white noise. Then, 

“Oh.”

You clench your eyes shut before looking up at him. He’s detached in his expression. Your eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mark,” you whisper, scared your voice will break if you talk any louder. He meets your gaze. “You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to be treated that way. You’re such a good, genuine person. I just…I don’t know why, but I just…I can’t love you.”

Mark swallows thickly. The tears are warm and sticky on your cheeks. It’s so selfish to cry when you’re the one who threw the punches. You hang your head with shame and watch the teardrops land on your restless hands.

“I swear I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even know I still had feelings for JJ until…Well, until then.”

“I did.”

Your head snaps up. He’s staring at you, but he doesn’t look angry. No. There’s a shadow of a smile on his lips. A sad smile, no doubt, but a smile nonetheless. 

“You did?”

“The minute you saw him, that Wednesday at the start of the month. I saw it on your face, clear as day. You never used to look at me like that.”

“Mark–”

“--That’s okay,” he nods. He’s crying too, now, and you’re not sure what to think, what to do. But Mark does. Of course, he does. His hands reach out to hold yours, warm in his clutch, and you blubber like a petulant child. “You’re not a bad person, Y/N. I could tell something was bothering you this past week.”

“I just didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t even know what it meant. But I have to be honest for the both of us, and I don’t…I don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for, Mark,” you say through your tears. 

Mark smiles solemnly and nods once. The squeeze of your hands tells you everything. I know. I agree. It’s okay. 

“Do you hate me?” you ask in a moment of pure patheticness. Mark laughs and shakes his head. 

“You’re too pretty to hate.”

“Ugh! You can’t say things like that!” you whine, throwing your head back. He laughs again, soggy with his sorrow, and he shrugs. 

“Just got to keep my good-guy rep up.”

Laughing, you shake your head at him and smile. The two of you share a breath and he nods. A conclusion. His smile dwindles. 

“I’m gonna need time, though…Before we can be friends, maybe. Just to…You know…”

“Of course,” you whisper. “I understand. Whatever you want, whatever you need. It’s all on your terms, I promise.”

Mark nods. Thanks you. It is so fucking bizarre to have the man you cheated on thank you but here we are. Life is full of strangeness. 

“Can I give you a hug?” you wonder. Chuckling, he nods, and you waste no time in throwing your arms around his shoulders. Mark holds you in the embrace and the two of you savour the feeling of one another for one last time. Against his shoulder, you murmur, “I’m going to miss you, Mark.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” he tells you into your collarbone. “JJ’s a lucky guy. But make sure to tell him I know where he lives if he hurts you.”

You tearfully giggle against him. “I’ll pass on the message.”

Bacon Sandwiches

It’s warm today; bright and brilliant. The critters are happy, chirping in the trees, croaking in the overgrowth by the water of the marsh that lines the Pogue’s house. Your footsteps feel heavy as you walk up the driveway, anticipating weighing you down. You lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight and make out JJ. He’s at the entrance to the shop, stood a few rungs up a free-standing ladder. He’s trying to staple something to the walls - a banner of some kind - and you make your way over. 

“Need a hand?”

He jumps and you cringe. Oops. JJ looks down at you and his lips quirk at the corners. The muscle tee he wears is grey and hangs loose on his well-kept frame. He’s armed with a staple gun. “Yo. What’re you doing here?”

“Want a hand?” you repeat, nodding up at the banner, not quite ready to confess. JJ shrugs and nods. 

“Sure. Thanks.” 

You glance around and find something that looks sturdy enough to stand on. Dragging it over, you boost yourself up and hold out your hand to take the other side of the banner. Holding it up against the wall, JJ leans forward and steadies himself with an elbow on the wooden panelling. 

“We’re selling bacon sandwiches on weekends now, so thought we oughta advertise it, y’know? So, anyway, what’re you–” a grunt and a click of the staple gun, “-doing here?”

You step down from your boost and JJ takes your place. You don’t speak, stalling time, as JJ secures the banner. Sighing, taking it in, nodding with contentment, JJ jumps down and ditches the gun. The he stands with his hands on his hips and looks at you, shrugging again. 

“I, uh…I needed to talk you,” you say, clearing your throat. 

“A’right. What about?”

“Just like…” You rock your head back, take a breath, and steel yourself. Somewhere in that split second, you find a new mantra. JJ is good. JJ is good for me. I’m good for JJ. We’re good for each other. Smiling, you look at him again. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he mumbles. 

There’s a playfulness, a teasing, as you shrug. “That you’ll catch me.”

You can see the words as they process through his head. See the moment he tracks the meaning, parses it altogether. A smile, beautiful and brimming, greets you, and then JJ crosses the gap between you in two large strides. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you up in an embrace. He swings you around for good measure and you laugh, looping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close, smiling against him. This is good. 

“You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you whisper in reply. He carefully reunites you with the ground. You smile up at JJ, gazing into his blue eyes, bathing in their depths. Your hand strokes along his jaw, slides down his front until it rests just above his heart. “It was always you, JJ.”

“You think…You think you can love me now?” he nervously asks. 

You shake your head with a silent laugh. It feels like breathing, like you’re finally free, as you admit, “I’ve always loved you.”

It comes and goes like a comet; the flash of shock in his eyes; the glow of his smile; the burning passion of his lips on yours. And as you kiss JJ, without guilt, without fear, you finally feel at home. When you break apart, short of air, JJ rests his forehead against yours. His thumb smooths along the soft line of your jaw and you smile. He takes a small breathe, shaky, unsure, but JJ's words are sure like bedrock.

"I love you too."

[dixons-sunshine]

js read your shopping spree and dying for your haircut fics and omg

can u pretty please, with a bow on top, write another part to that series or like an au where they get separated at the fall of the world and a few season later (preferably that prison era of daryl he was so fawking sexy there like omg) they found each other again and i want some build up to their reunion yk like someone else finds r and brings them in and some ppl kinda chatting abt the new girl or wtv and dars not rlly gaf cuz he kinda getting tired of trying to find r (realistically i don’t think he’d give up easily but let’s js pretend yk) but then they see each other and they’re like omfg the love of my life’s here and safe and like i need that glenn and maggie type reunion but like tenfold bc r and dar alr loved and knew each other before the fall yk and like yeah😣

idky but i’m a sucker for “r and daryl had a relationship beforehand, got separated, and reunited” trope (?) fic, blurb shit and you’d literally be godsent if u wrote this oml

I Found You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the dead started to rise and the world went to hell, Daryl got seperated from you, the love of his life. After over a year of searching for you and finding no evidence of your survival, Daryl was beginning to give up and count his losses. One day, Carol stumbled upon a wounded woman while out on a run with Glenn, and the two of them decide to accept you into the prison. Little did they know, that would end up being one of the best decisions they could've ever made.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4, post season 3.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, mentions of attempted sexual assault (not descriptive)

Word count: 4.3k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I've decided to write the au since there's already a part three for the SSHD (Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams) universe in the works, but this request was way too good to not write. I hope you like it! And I absolutely agree with you. There's something about prison era Daryl that just hits different. He was on another level completely.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

(Just thought I'd say that both third- and second person is used. I referred to the reader in third  person when Glenn and Carol first met her, but it soon shifts to second person when she introduced herself. Just thought I'd let y'all know the shift is intentional.)

—

“Okay, so I can't guess what you did before all of this correctly, but I bet there is something that I will be right about.”

Daryl looked at Zach skeptically as they trudged through the abandoned store, looking for supplies to bring back to the prison. “Yeah? Wha's tha'?”

“You're brooding, quiet, you like to keep to yourself,” Zach started, leaning nonchalantly against one of the shelves while he watched the archer place multiple different packs and boxes into his bag. “The way you act most of the time would suggest you've never been in a relationship before, but there are clear signs that you were with someone before all of this.”

Daryl stiffened for a moment, his hand lingering above a pack, before regaining his composure and continuing his task. “Wha' signs?”

“Well, for one, you know exactly what kind of tampons and pads to get for the ladies at the prison. I would've just dumped everything in and have them sort through it, but you are only taking specific brands,” Zach pointed out, motioning to the box of tampons Daryl had just put back onto the shelf.

When Daryl didn't reply, Zach took that as his cue to continue. “And while we're on the topic of periods, you seem to know exactly what to get the girls for the pain and what to do to curve their bad tempers. What guy would know that if he didn't have a girlfriend before all of this? And to top it all off, and this is totally unrelated to everything I just said, I've seen that locket necklace you keep in your pocket. It's pretty worn out and faded, but you can definitely tell it's something from this generation, so it can't be something that was passed down from a relative, so that brings me to my conclusion. You, Daryl Dixon, had a girl before all of this.”

Daryl sighed, shutting his eyes tightly as he willed the onslaught of memories away. Memories that were too painful to think of, memories that did nothing but remind the archer of his failure. His failure at finding you, the love of his life, after the dead started walking. A failure he had to live with for as long as he remained alive.

Daryl opened his eyes and turned abruptly, leaving the young man behind him as he stalked towards the exit, his bag slung over his shoulder. Zach hurriedly caught up to him, struggling to keep at a steady pace beside him as Daryl strode quickly, wanting to put some distance between him and Zach.

“Woah, man! Slow down!” Zach complained, jogging to keep up with him. “Was it because I brought up the girl thing? I didn't realise it was a touchy subject.”

“It ain't none of yer damn business,” Daryl grumbled under his breath, stalking over to the truck him and Zach were using that day.

“Daryl! Come on, man. It's not that deep.”

Daryl gritted his teeth as he opened up the driver's side door of the truck, throwing his bag into the back before climbing inside. He started up the truck and revved the engine, a warning sign to Zach that he was about to leave, with or without him.

Zach hurriedly scurried into the passenger seat, barely having time to close the door before Daryl started speeding off. He gripped the edge of his seat, sending Daryl an exasperated look.

“Daryl, what the hell? Calm down!” he exclaimed, unnerved by the archer's sudden burst of fury. He'd seen Daryl angry before, but it was never directed towards him. It was downright scary.

“'M calm,” Daryl replied through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“That's what you call calm?!” Zach exclaimed, motioning out towards the road. “You're driving like a maniac! Slow down!”

Daryl simply ignored the man, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Memories of you unwillingly flooded his mind. Memories of your smile, your laugh and your beautiful eyes. Memories of the calm mornings you'd spend with the archer in your shared sad excuse for an apartment where the hot water was a joke. Memories where you'd both stand under the cold water of the shower, Daryl embracing you from behind in an attempt to make the cold water bearable for you. Memories of your loving touch on his skin, your fingers lightly tracing over the scars on his back as you whispered reassuring things into his ear, assuring him that his father's abuse had nothing to do with him, that it wasn't his fault that any of that happened to him.

The more Daryl's mind wandered, the more he remembered some of the bad memories. All those arguments you had with him over some of his escapades with Merle, telling him that it would only get him into trouble, flooded his mind. One of those arguments ended up being the reason he got seperated from you in the first place.

Merle had wanted to go do some drug deal and had barged into your apartment, practically dragging Daryl from your bed. You had begged him not to go, arguing with him that it was a bad idea and that something would go wrong this time. He remembered being so angry at you for insisting during that argument that Merle wasn't good for him, that he needed to cut back on seeing him or set some boundaries with him. He had stormed out of the apartment without so much as a goodbye, and now he regretted it more than he's regretted anything before in his life.

Daryl blamed himself daily for not having listened to you that day. If he had, he never would've been seperated from you and you would've been safe by his side. He longed to have you by his side again, to tell you that he was sorry and that he loved you. However, even after all this time of searching, going out for extended periods of time to look for signs of you, it was to no avail. You were gone, and it was all his fault.

“Daryl? Are... you okay?”

Daryl snapped back to reality at the sound of Zach's concerned voice. He felt a droplet of water roll down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away, realising that he was crying. He hadn't even realised that tears had started to well up in his eyes, so immersed was he in his own thoughts.

“'M fine,” Daryl insisted, wiping his eyes hurriedly as he willed the tears away.

Zach furrowed his eyebrows, before realisation dawned on him. “You did have a girl before all of this. You lost her, didn't you?” he asked sympathetically.

Daryl hesitantly nodded, swallowing in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I didn't lose her,” he began, bringing the truck to a halt in front of the prison gates as he waited for someone to open them.

“I don't know if she's even dead at all. She's just... Gone.”

—

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Glenn asked Carol as they scanned over the shelving of an abandoned pharmacy, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Carol sighed as she looked upon yet another empty shelf, its medical contents a thing of the past. “Anything medical. With all the new people we've been taking in, the supplies we have aren't going to be enough.”

“Okay,” Glenn drawled hesitantly. “But it doesn't look like there's anything worth scavenging here.”

“Let's just do a once over before we check the back. If there's nothing, we head on back. It's getting late,” Carol instructed. Glenn nodded, and the two of them dispersed to sweep through the small store once more.

“So,” Glenn started. “Is it just me, or has Daryl been more grumpy than usual?”

Carol hummed in agreement. “He has. He gets angry at the smallest of things lately.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” Carol said, shaking her head. “I've asked him, but he won't say anything. Just tells me to mind my own business. It's really odd. He's more like he was back at the quarry. More closed off and snappy and I don't know why.”

“It's ever since he came back from that run with Zach a week ago,” Glenn replied, meeting up with the Carol again to go into the back room. “I've asked Zach if he knows why, but he refused to say anything. Says it's not his place to say.”

Carol frowned, opening the door that lead into the back room. “That's odd. So that means something—”

“Stay right there. Don't move another inch or I swear to god I'll shoot.”

Both Carol and Glenn froze in their tracks. They looked up and locked eyes with a woman, who's eyes were fiery as they darted between them.

“Names. Now. And weapons on the ground.”

“Okay, alright,” Carol responded, trying to diffuse the situation. She slowly lowered her gun and knife to the ground, urging Glenn to do the same. “I'm Carol, and this is Glenn. Now before we answer anymore questions, what's your name?”

The woman hesitated for a moment. “Y/n. What are you doing here?”

“We were looking for some supplies,” Carol spoke truthfully, eyeing the gun aimed at her carefully. “We're running low on medical things.”

After a couple of long, tense moments, with you scanning them from head to toe, you nodded to yourself after spotting something. Deciding to trust them for now, you slowly lowered the gun. However, you quietly hissed in pain, quickly clutching your side as you stumbled to regain your balance. After you steadied yourself, you limped over to your bag and grabbed a few things before handing them over to Carol and Glenn.

“Here. Hope these help. The place was ransacked when I got here. Wasn't a lot left to clear out.”

“Thank you, but we need more than this. This isn't going to last us long,” Carol responded, placing the items into her bag.

“No offence, lady, but I think I need the supplies more than you do at the moment. And I gave you more than half already. I can't spare more,” you said, clutching your side tightly.

“What happened?” Glenn asked, pointing to the your side, unable to stop his curiosity from seeping through.

“Flesh eaters,” you replied nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “I was fighting a bunch of them when one lunged at me from the side. It toppled me through a broken window, and a shard sliced me.”

“Don't you have a group? Couldn't they help you?” Glenn questioned.

“Nope. I've been on my own since this whole thing started. I guess I should probably find a group, though. Things like this wouldn't happen if I had backup.”

You gingerly lifted your shirt, and both Carol and Glenn grimaced at the painful sight. The wound was deep and oozing blood. It would definitely need stitches, as well as someone to remove the remaining fragments of glass that still painfully stuck out of the wound. It was terrible. You wouldn't be able to get it all out without a professional.

Suddenly, an idea struck Carol. “You gave us some of the supplies you scavenged without even knowing us. Why?”

“Well, you didn't try to kill me, even after I held you at gunpoint. And by the looks of it, you guys have a group and are set up somewhere. Figured I should do the honourable thing and offer up some medical things if there's kids involved.”

“How do you know there's kids?” Glenn asked, confused.

“I can see the toys in your bag,” you pointed out, motioning to the toy truck that stuck out of the top of his bag. “Figured that adults wouldn't be playing with toy trucks while the world was ending.”

“Still, why would you? You don't owe us anything,” Carol questioned, though her mind was already set on one thing.

“Some might call me naive, but I hope that by doing some good in this fucked up world, karma will decide to do something good for me. That probably makes me stupid as shit, huh?” you replied, laughing before wincing at the pain that shot through your side at the small action.

Carol smiled at you. “We have a group set up not too far from here, at the prison. You can join if you want, but you have to answer three questions first.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Three questions? That's it?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Alright, shoot.”

“How many walkers have you killed?” Carol began, watching you closely.

“A lot. Too many to keep track of at this point.”

“How many people have you killed?”

You hesitated for a moment, guilt creeping up on you. “Three.”

“Why?”

“Two of them were bit. They asked me to kill them. The other one... That bastard tried to rape me. I wouldn't let him.”

“I'm sorry,” Glenn said sympathetically.

“It's fine. I'm fine,” you waved him off, before turning your attention back to Carol. “How'd I do? Satisfactory enough?”

Carol nodded. “For me, yes. You'll still need to meet the leader and have him evaluate you, but I think you'll be alright. You'll fit in just fine.”

“Hopefully,” you laughed nervously, instantly paying the price for it with a sharp pain shooting up your side, making you visibly wince.

“Come on, let's get going. We have a doctor who can get that checked out for you,” Glenn prompted. He walked over to you and grabbed your bag, stopping your protest instantly. “It's fine, I've got it. One extra bag won't kill me.”

Together, all of you made your way out of the pharmacy and over to their car. You got settled in the back while Carol and Glenn got into the front, and before long you were setting off to the prison. Your eyes were beginning to droop, but Glenn seemed eager to get to know the new recruit better.

“What were you doing out there on your own anyway?”

“I was looking for my boyfriend. I was hoping that he might still be alive.”

“No luck?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, pursing your lips. “I'm beginning to think I might never find him, if he's even still alive.”

“Never say never,” Glenn encouraged you. “You'll find him someday, I know it.”

“I really hope so.”

—

“Have you seen that new chick Glenn and Carol brought back? She's a real looker.”

“I know, right? You think she's into blondes?”

“Even if she was, I doubt she'd go for your scrawny ass.”

“Easy, boys. She might not even be into guys. I could have a shot with her for all you know.”

Daryl groaned inwardly as he entered the cellblock. The new girl that Glenn and Carol brought in the day before was seemingly the hottest topic of discussion amongst everyone and he couldn't escape it, no matter where he tried to run to. Nobody, apart from Glenn, Carol, Rick and Hershel have officially met her, yet everybody had seemingly already formed an opinion about her. Although there were a lot of different opinions, everyone seemingly agreed on one thing; the new girl was hotter than hell.

Daryl was the only guy in the entire prison that hadn't seen her yet. He was out hunting when Carol and Glenn brought her back and he hasn't bothered to go out of his way to introduce himself to her ever since he got back. He'd meet her soon enough and he wasn't hoping to make friends with her. The more people he managed to keep at arm's length, the better.

“Yo, Daryl. What do you think about the new chick?” a guy called Mitchell asked him, snapping him from his thoughts.

Daryl shrugged. “Ain't met her yet,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but have you seen her?” another guy called Ronnie asked. “I'm telling you, man, hotter than the sun on a summer day. I'm hoping she'll let me hit at least once.”

“How 'bout ya leave the poor girl alone?” Daryl snapped, turning to face the group that was walking with him. “She ain't even been here two days and y'all are already ogling her like she's some prize to be won. Have some more respect.”

“Jeez,” Mitchell whistled. “What's got your panties up in a bunch?”

“Nothin',” Daryl muttered angrily, turning around to walk further into the cellblock. “Jus' wanna get this fuckin' job done and all y'all can do is yap 'bout some girl ya dun' even know properly. I dun' give two flyin' shits 'bout who or wha' ya talk 'bout, but do it after the job's done. Y'all ain't free loadin' here. Do yer job, earn yer keep.”

“Sorry,” a girl called Ariana muttered, sending him an apologetic look. “What do you need us to do?”

“Take those planks over there and take em to the guard tower. Rick wants to fortify it and wants it done by the end of the week.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ronnie asked, crossing his arms as he sized Daryl up.

Daryl glared at him and squared his shoulders, looking down on his shorter, scrawny frame. “Hershel needs help with somethin'. I believe ya can understand tha' if the doctor needs somethin' done, it's considered top priority?”

Ronnie shrunk under Daryl's intense glare, nodding quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great.”

With that, Daryl turned on his heel and set off to find Hershel. He didn't have to search far, however, because Hershel halted him before he could go outside.

“Daryl, over here,” the old man called after him, halting him in his tracks.

Daryl turned and walked over to Hershel, nodding at him respectfully. “Wha' ya need, Doc?”

“I'm sure you've heard of the girl Carol and Glenn brought back yesterday by now?” Hershel questioned, chuckling at the slight groan Daryl emitted.

“Who hasn't? Apparently she's really good lookin'. Her looks has been all people has to say 'bout her.”

Hershel nodded. “Unfortunately, that is true. Only Rick, Glenn, Carol and myself has had the pleasure of meeting her personally up until this point. She's a lovely woman. Had no problem that there wasn't anything to ease the pain when I had to stitch her side and she's more than willing to get up and start working to earn her keep. She won't be able to for at least another day or so since her side needs to heal up a bit first, but Carol and Glenn did good with bringing her back. She'll fit right in.”

“Good,” Daryl nodded. “She a good fighter?”

“From what I understand, she's been out on her own since the beginning. She's not dead yet, so I'd say she's alright,” Hershel replied, adjusting on his crutches.

“Alrigh', now enough 'bout her. Wha' did ya need me to do?”

Hershel gave him an encouraging pat on the back, confusing the archer. “You're going to be one of the very few people who gets to say they met the new girl for the next couple of days. I was hoping you could help her fix her bunk? One of the legs on the bunk broke and she's dead set on repairing it. She won't let me help because she keeps insisting I've done enough for her, so I told her I would send someone else to help. She'll be expecting you.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, parting ways with the older man. He walked over to the cell that Hershel had pointed towards and stopped at the doorway, hesitating to make his presence known.

You had your back turned towards the door, hunched over as you inspected the leg of the bunk. You weren't aware of the archer that stood a few feet behind you, engrossed entirely in your own thoughts. That was, until he spoke up behind you.

“Hey. Hershel said ya needed help?”

You froze at the voice, willing the supposed hallucination away. You slowly rose to your feet and turned, locking eyes with the one person you've been searching for since the world went to hell—your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon.

The moment Daryl locked eyes with you, a whirlwind of emotions flooded his being. Relief, love, happiness, wonder, sadness, confusion and so much more that he couldn't decipher. Although his first instinct was to wrap you in his arms and never let go of you again, he hesitated, refusing to believe you were real. He took a step back, his eyes wide as he looked at you.

You stared back at him with equal amounts of disbelief. You took a hesitant step forward. “Daryl?” you whispered. The man in front of you looked slightly different; a little bit older and his hair was longer, but there was no mistaking it. The man in front of you was Daryl.

Daryl remained silent, his eyes locked on you as you continued to take agonizingly slow steps towards him. He watched as you stopped in front of him and hesitantly raised your hand, bringing it to rest on his cheek. Daryl instantly melted into your familiar soft touch, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Without another thought, he gently grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, tightly clinging to you as he pressed multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“Yer real,” he whispered, a laugh of amazement falling from his lips. “Yer real. Yer alive. Yer actually still alive.”

You laughed quietly against his chest as you held onto him tightly, never wanting to let go ever again. Your laughter soon turned into sobs, tears of relief and happiness falling from your eyes.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” you whispered through your tears, burying your face into his chest. “I thought you were dead, Dar.”

“'M here,” he whispered into your ear, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes. “'M alive. Yer alive. 'M never lettin' ya go ever again. 'M sorry I ever left tha' day in the first place.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I never should've asked you to cut Merle out of your life. He's your brother. It was unreasonable of me.”

“Nah, it wasn't,” he denied, placing another gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Ya were jus' lookin' out fer me. I never shoulda gotten mad at ya in the first place.”

“Let bygones be bygones?” you whispered against his chest.

Daryl chuckled before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

The two of you held onto each other for a couple of moments longer until you pulled back. Daryl was about to voice his protest until you pressed your lips against his in an urgent kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms settled on your waist, pulling you closer into him as he kissed you back. There was no lustful hunger behind the kiss—there was only love and longing, two broken parts finally reuniting and mending together as one.

Daryl pulled back and placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “I missed ya so much,” he whispered, willing the lump in his throat to go away.

“I missed you too. More than you even know,” you replied, cupping Daryl's cheek with one of your hands. “But I found you. I finally found you.”

Daryl leaned into your touch before turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. However, he soon pulled away from you and strode over to your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“C'mon,” he said, taking your hand in his as he pulled you to walk beside him.

“Where are we going?” you questioned, falling into step beside the man you loved.

“There ain't no need fer ya to sleep in there. Yer gonna sleep with me in my cell,” Daryl said simply, pulling you along to his cell.

You giggled but said nothing, silently following him into his cell. When he placed your bags down on the floor, Daryl placed a soft kiss on your lips before stalking out of the cell.

“Where are you going?” you called after him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“'M gonna find tha' prick who objectified ya and teach him a lesson. Yer hot as fuck, yes, that much I can accept people sayin', but Ronnie implied he wanted to sleep with ya outrigh'. He's really gonna regret sayin' tha' in a few moments. Dun' even try to talk me outta it.”

“Hey, Dar?” you called after him, halting him in his tracks. “I love you.”

Daryl smiled at you. “I definitely love ya more.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm stayin'

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'who did this to you?' wc: 869 rated: m cw: off-screen violence, mentioned childhood abuse (not in detail) tags: steve harrington has bad parents, established relationship, secret relationship, pre-season 4, hurt/comfort, asthmatic steve because i've made him go through everything else why not this too

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve's vision was blurry, his hands shaking as he tried to put his car in park in front of the trailer.

His backpack, no longer full of what he needed for school, sat in the passenger seat, half-zipped and telling the ugly truth of what he wasn't sure he could process right now: his parents had kicked him out with only the possessions he could shove into his bag.

Steve winced as he reached for his inhaler, a last second grab when his dad had decided he'd given him plenty of time to pack only three minutes into his rushed efforts.

He didn't need it at this moment, had managed to calm down on the drive to Eddie's, but knew it was only a matter of time before the anxiety would set in again. Hopefully, he'd have Eddie next to him when it did.

Wayne's truck wasn't in the yard, probably working another night shift. Eddie's new-to-him van was parked crooked by the front porch, like he'd been in a rush to get inside when he got home earlier.

Steve immediately stepped out of his car into mud.

Right. It rained earlier.

No lights were on in the trailer, but Wayne had given him a key only a few weeks before, saying something about how he should always have a place to go if he needed it.

Almost like he had a feeling about what was to come.

Steve opened the door, surprised to find Eddie passed out on the couch, blanket pulled up to his nose and the space heater turned off.

If his eye didn't hurt so bad, he'd roll them both. No matter how many times he told Eddie to just turn it on before he sat down so he would be warm, it didn't seem to sink in.

He turned it on, cursing quietly when it made a loud popping noise.

"Wayne?" Eddie asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up as he tried to wake up. "Work?"

"Not Wayne, Eds. Go back to sleep." The last thing Steve needed right now was Eddie freaking out about what he was sure was ugly proof of his father taking out his prejudices on him. "I'm gonna be in your room."

"Steve?" He sounded much more awake now, and Steve couldn't resist turning fully to look at him. "Holy shit. Who did this to you?"

Steve grimaced. He knew they couldn't ignore it, he was just hoping to patch himself up a bit before morning when Eddie would start asking questions.

"Um."

And then the damn tears started falling before Steve could give any explanation, and Eddie's arms wrapped around him carefully, like he was terrified to hurt him more. Eddie was always so careful with him, like he knew there were plenty of invisible bruises already.

He cried for so long, his entire body felt numb, and he could vaguely register that he was shivering. Eddie's hands were rubbing his back slowly, comforting him the best he could.

Eventually, Steve's tears stopped, his breathing slowed back to normal, and his chest didn't feel as heavy.

"Is that your inhaler or are you just happy to see me?" Eddie teased gently, leaving room for Steve to ignore him if he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Steve snorted. "It's my inhaler. But I am happy to see you. Always."

Eddie's lips brushed the top of his head, so faint, Steve almost thought he imagined it.

"You wanna talk about it?" The caution in Eddie's voice was enough for Steve to pull his head away from his shoulder, flinching when he felt the pull of his split lip.

"Not now. Kinda tired." Understatement of the century. Steve felt like he could sleep for hours. "Can I sleep here?"

"Stevie, you can stay as long as you want, you know that."

Steve knew Eddie knew, and Eddie knew Steve wasn't gonna come outright and say it until he'd had time to come down from it all.

"Can we sleep in your bed?" Steve asked, resting his head back on Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie wordlessly led him down the short hallway to his bedroom, helped him get into comfier clothes, and used a washcloth to wipe any of the blood he'd missed at the gas station earlier.

They got in bed, Steve curling against Eddie's side like he'd done so many times before.

This felt different though. This felt like an end of something, a beginning of something else.

*-*-*-*-*-*

When Wayne saw him the next morning, he gave him a sad smile, a hug, and handed him a cup of coffee.

"You stayin'?" he asked, like it was simple.

Like Steve could stay.

"I-"

"I have two rules. One, you go to school. Two, you tell me if you're gonna be out too late, especially on a school night. You follow those, you stay. Sound good?" Wayne raised a brow.

If Steve hadn't spent the last six months at the Munson's trailer more than his own home, maybe he'd be intimidated.

As it stood, all he could do was give a small smile and grab a frozen bag of mixed veggies from the freezer to put on his swollen eye.

"I'm stayin'."

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 8

Can you believe we have finally reached the end? It has been an absolute blast going through this with all of you. With any luck (fingers crossed) Next week will also have another special story come out next Tuesday, the sequel to Icarus (metal band) so that I can get it out before Halloween.

In this we had the end of Steddie's date, the end of the episode and cute little reunion epilogue. (which may or may not have a 9-1-1 joke)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Once they had walked off their breakfast and was getting hungry for lunch, Eddie was given a picnic basket and cooler by the crew and they drove out to the park for their picnic.

They sat on opposite sides of the park table as Eddie unpacked everything. There were turkey sandwiches with avocado slices and ranch dressing. There were sour cream and onion potato chips, brown sugar baked beans, and homemade potato salad.

He then pulled out black cherry soda from the cooler and his favorite beer. Steve was instantly endeared further.

“Your bestie is an absolute hoot, by the way,” Eddie said, opening the bag of potato chips.

Steve grinned around his first bite of sandwich. “She’s like that. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Not be on this game show for a start,” Eddie teased.

“I’m not surprised she told you about that,” Steve huffed in good humor. “Did she also tell you that technically the whole queer dating season is my fault?”

“You mean your absolutely brilliant and amazing idea?” Eddie said grinning back. “Too much wine and you get really cute, according to her.”

Steve buried his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I’m a silly drunk.”

“Well, rest in peace Garfield,” Eddie said, “your death has brought me the best boy I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. To Valhalla!” He raised his beer and Steve clanked his soda bottle against it.

“He was a good fish,” Steve said solemnly. “I have a cat named Odie now.” He pulled out his phone and flipped to his photos. He handed the phone to Eddie.

“He’s adorable,” Eddie cooed. “My uncle is a huge Garfield fan. He collects mugs and his most prized possession is a Garfield head one.”

Steve grinned. “I’ve people give me flack for naming the fish Garfield and the cat Odie, but fish don’t last long enough in Garfield to have names. And Odie isn’t an orange tabby, so that wouldn’t work for him.”

“Makes sense,” Eddie said nodding his head. He took a bite of his sandwich. “Much better than Subway. I had a lot of fun making everything.”

Steve paused mid bite. “Wait? Really?”

“Yup!” Eddie said. “The potato salad and beans are my uncle’s recipe.”

“They’re really good.”

Eddie blushed and hid behind a lock of hair.

They talked about Eddie’s uncle, Wayne and all of Steve’s kids. Then it was time to pack up. They played at the playground a bit just being silly.

“Now,” Eddie said, after tackling Steve to the ground, “I understand this town doesn’t have minigolf, but it does have bowling and an arcade that has managed to survive the digital era, so what will it be?”

Steve thought about it for a moment. “The arcade. The flashing lights at the bowling can give me a migraine.”

“Score!” Eddie cackled gleefully. “I was hoping for the arcade.”

It was that moment that he realized how close their faces were. He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to Steve’s mouth.

“Oh,” Steve stuttered when Eddie pulled back. “Wow. That was amazing.”

Eddie smiled widely. “An amazing kiss for an amazing guy.”

Steve knocked out Eddie’s arms and rolled them over, pinning the other man’s arms above his head. He straddled Eddie’s waist and looked down at him fondly. “Gotcha!”

Eddie surged up and kissed him.

Then there was a cough and Steve sprang off of Eddie, looking kinda sheepish. “I kinda forgot about the cameras there,” he said helping Eddie to his feet.

Eddie smiled, smoothing out Steve’s hair. “It’s all right.”

They got back into the car drove to the arcade. They played all sorts of games, they raced each other, played skee ball, Steve even shot a few hoops to win them extra tickets. Tickets they turned in for two matching tiger plushies.

“Hobbes,” Steve said pointing to Eddie’s, “and Tigger.”

“I approve!”

~

Dinner at Benny’s blew Eddie’s mind as much as Big Ma’s blew Steve’s. He loved everything about it. Including Benny.

Steve couldn’t remember having a date that went this well before in his life. They never ran out of topics to talk about and he was going to have to admit that he was falling a little bit in love.

Finally the date was drawing to a close and it was time for Eddie to ask his questions. They had gone up to the Quarry and set it up for them to sit on the hood of Eddie’s car on a blanket.

“All righty!” Eddie said pulling out cue cards. “First question, who was your first kiss?”

Steve smiled. “A girl named Alice. It’s when I learned it was strictly boys for me. Up to that point I had held on to hope that I was bisexual so that my dad wouldn’t kick my ass. Still dated women in a futile attempt to force myself. But once I got to college, I dropped the pretense.”

“Oof,” Eddie said. “I felt that. My dad was a homophobic asshole too. He came out of the woodwork briefly when I got famous enough to be in the news. But I sent him packing.”

“I think that’s what upset my parents the most,” Steve huffed, “was that I didn’t chose a job that they could depend on after they retired to mooch off of.”

“I hear you,” Eddie said. “Second question, have you played D&D?”

Steve burst out laughing. “No, I had sex in high school,” he said quoting that TV show.

Eddie held his hands to his chest. “Are you suggesting that I didn’t? For shame! Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow!” He moved to get up but Steve grabbed his wallet chain and dragged him back down.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve said, his cheeks beginning to hurt from all the smiling. “I like that.”

Eddie beamed at him. “Yay!”

Steve kissed him on the cheek and he blushed.

“Third question,” Eddie said shyly, “What’s your favorite cartoon series?”

Steve hummed as he thought about it. “Avatar: The Last Airbender. There is just something so good about that show.”

“Yes!” Eddie crowed. “Secret Tunnel, Secret Tunnel!”

Steve laughed. “Or when Sokka got poisoned by the cactus juice?”

“I loved that,” Eddie said, bumping their shoulders together. “What is your favorite quote?”

“Shit, shit, shit, fuckity, shit, shit, fuck and willy. Willy, shit and fuck and...tits,” Steve said with a completely straight face.

Eddie giggled. He stopped to look at Steve in shock and awe and then he giggled again. It just bubbled out of him. “Where the hell is that from? Clearly I’m not watching the right movies, damn.”

“The King’s Speech,” Steve said with a huff of laughter. “It’s about the Duke of York, who had a stammer and was suddenly made king of England when his older brother abdicates.”

“You’ll definitely going to have to show me that one,” he said with a grin. “It sounds fun.”

“It’s not all swearing,” Steve said with a giggle. “It was a scene about his speech therapist trying to get him to swear so that he understands it’s all in his head.”

“Still,” Eddie replied fondly. “If you like it, I still want to see it.” He cleared his throat. “Last question.”

Steve took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Who had the better date, me or Billy?” Eddie asked shyly.

Steve kissed him. “I’ll tell you that in terms of kisses, he only got two. A kiss at the questions portion and again at the door to my hotel room. Now, how many kisses have you gotten?”

Eddie’s eyes twinkled. “I think I lost count.”

Steve kissed him again. “Me too.”

“I hope I’m not being presumptuous,” Eddie murmured, “but I got you a present.”

“Oh?”

Eddie hopped off the hood and opened the trunk. He got out a large white box and brought over to Steve. He handed it to him as he clambered back onto the hood.

Steve opened it up and there nestled the white tissue paper was a lingerie set. It was pink chiffon and white lace. It was a babydoll top and matching bottoms. It wasn’t a thong for which Steve was grateful.

“Eddie it’s beautiful,” he whispered. “I love it.”

Eddie smiled broadly. “I’m glad.” He paused for a moment. “I have a small confession. I’m not a sports fan. The college basketball team was literally pulled out of my ass. I didn’t lie, I used to watch it with Uncle Wayne...”

“But you’re a nerd?” Steve teased.

“Yuck it up, pretty boy,” Eddie said dryly. “But, yes.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “I have a small confession too. Or maybe not so small, depending you.”

“Wha’cha got?”

Steve bit his lower lip and lift the box a little. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I wanted to see how Billy would react.”

“Oh.”

“But seeing it here, with you,” he continued, not looking up. “I want it, with you. I want to be your princess.”

Eddie carefully removed the box from Steve’s hands and moved off to the side. Then he tackled Steve again showering him with kisses.

“Come on back to my hotel room, sweetheart.”

“I’d love to.”

~

“Welcome back to the ‘Love Connection’,” Bob said. He had changed suits into a nice dove grey one with a silver tie.

Steve was off to one side, while the three Suitors were on a large white sofa.

“Eddie was a runaway favorite leaving the question round,” Bob continued. “Did Billy’s date go well enough for a second date?”

Steve shook his head. “He was charming and sexy, but I don’t think we clicked.”

Billy nodded his head back and forth. “I’d agree, I was hoping for someone a little more adventurous and daring. Someone with hidden depths.”

“Ouch!” Bob winced. “Please tell Eddie fumbled somewhere. Like does he drool in his sleep or have a vodka aunt who is way too invested in his sex life? Something!”

Steve laughed. “I’m afraid not. Eddie was goofy and silly and as one of my students wisely said, the right person for the right now.”

“Wise kid,” Bob said softly. “So overwhelming in favor of Eddie Munson?”

“Very much so!”

Bob turned back to audience. “And there you have it. Join us next time for Tina Peterson, and her three lovely Suitors, Daren, Emily, and Carol.”

~

When he got home, he had Eddie’s number and promise that Eddie would come down from Chicago to be with him, he just had to do a few things first.

The first episode wouldn’t air until October, so they had to be discreet, but it was nice to have someone he knew was waiting for him.

They had to do a little reunion filming to see if they were still together and if Steve wanted to change his answer.

“Steve welcome back to ‘Love Connection,” the host, Bob said cheerfully. “Why don’t you tell us about what’s been going on in your life?”

“Hey, Bob,” Steve said with a smile. “I’m actually glad to be back. I went on a sabbatical from work after the school year ended.”

“What’s a sabbatical?” Bob asked, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s paid leave,” he explained, “usually in colleges and the like, but basically for a year, I can take time off to focus on other things, but my job will still be there when I get back.”

“Nice.”

“I took it because I appeared on here,” Steve said wryly. “Nothing against the show, but it is a little racier than most schools like for their teachers. This way, the show will air and by the time all the dust settles I can go back to my job.” He shrugged. “If I want to. I haven’t really decided yet.”

“Smart,” Bob agreed. “Tell us about that adorable kitten of yours.”

They flashed up a picture on screen of Odie still tucked under his chin, but much bigger.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a grin. “We found that he’s probably a Maine Coon. Which if you know anything about the breed, biiiiigggg cat.”

“Will he get bigger?” Bob asked his eyes wide.

“Most likely,” Steve replied. “They stop growing at eighteen months.”

“Damn!” He turned to the Suitors. “Gentlemen. Welcome back.”

All three of them murmured their hellos.

“Let’s start with Tommy,” Bob said. “Tell us about what you’ve been up to.”

“I moved to LA and am working full time at a firehouse,” Tommy said with a blush.

The audience oohed as they flashed up a picture of Tommy in his gear with some of his fellow fire fighters.

“Congrats!” Bob said.

“I have a boyfriend, too,” Tommy said. “His name is Evan Kincade and he’s the one on the left of me.”

“Well then!” Bob said brightly. “That’s a first for our show. A discarded Suitor finding love on their own. Well done.”

Tommy blushed. “Thanks.”

“All right, Billy,” Bob said, turning to the man in the middle of the sofa. “Tell us about your last six months.”

Billy brought up one leg and showed off an ankle monitor. “Got into a fight in a bar over a piece of ass that I didn’t know was taken. So I’m teaching youths how to surf as part of my community service. That means I lost sponsors and couldn’t compete outside of LA. But I’ll be back at it next season.”

Bob and Steve share a concerned glance.

Steve is so glad he dodged that bullet.

“And Eddie,” Bob finished. “What have you been up to?”

“Moved to Hawkins to be closer to my uncle, Wayne,” Eddie said with a grin. “When I was working up in Chicago, we’d visit each other on occasion, but now that he’s thinking of retiring, he would really like me closer to home. And I do my producing from anywhere really, so I figured what the hell.”

“That must be nice for your uncle,” Bob said sweetly. “Added bonus of being in Steve’s backyard didn’t hurt either?”

Eddie laughed. “Those two are inseparable now. You’d have to use a crowbar to pry them apart. I also ran a D&D game for Steve’s kids over the summer. Kept it short, but fun. They all had a blast.”

“So are you two still together?” Bob asked, already knowing the question.

Steve smiled over at Eddie who blushed and nodded.

“We moved in together back in June.”

Bob’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve heard of Uhaul lesbians but damn you guys move fast.”

“My lease was up,” Steve explained. “My best friend was moving in with her girlfriend of two years, and I didn’t want to stay there. So when Eddie got settled into a house in town, I moved in with him.”

“We scandalize our neighbors,” Eddie cackled with glee, “by being gay, democrats, and I’m a metalhead. All the ladies thought Steve was single and brought over baked goods. And only when the last one tried to seduce him, he kissed me in front of all them. Boy did they go running.”

“It’s been great,” Steve insisted. “Fences really do make the best neighbors.”

“Well there you have it,” Bob said. “A great success story.”

~

When they got home and curled up with Odie, Eddie asked, “Are you still mad at Chrissy and Robin for signing you up without telling you?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe a little. I would have liked to have made the choice for myself, but I am grateful because I got to meet you.”

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie said softly.

“I love you, too, Eds.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @wheneverfeasible @themoonagainstmers @garden-of-gay @little-birch-boy

10- @ollieolive @dissociatingdemon @stripey82 @kultiras @micheledawn1975

[hughjidiot]

Complete Thoughts on the TDI Reboot Season 2

Well, the remaining episodes of season two are out in the wild, and since I'm snowed in today I've been able to watch them all multiple times. Now that the season is over, here are my overall thoughts on all of the characters, their plotlines, eliminations, etc. Spoilers below the cut, obviously.

First, a quick recap on everyone I talked about in my analyses of episodes one through eight.

As a Scary Girl fan it was disappointing seeing her get booted first, but understandable since at the end of the day she is mostly a gimmick character.

Chase I was glad to see go early, since his subplot with Emma had run its course and was pretty much the only thing Chase had going for him.

I wasn't too broken up about Millie going home third, since she'd already been a major character in season one. I just wish Priya had had more of a reaction to her best friend getting voted off, but more on her later.

Emma being eliminated early on was a surprise, since I thought she could get an arc of finally moving on from Chase now that she'd broken up with him for good. I guess there's always season three, if gen 4 gets one.

I have mixed feelings on Nichelle. On the one hand it was cool seeing how she'd been training in between seasons and become a much better player. On the other hand her elimination was really, really stupid. Like my least favorite of the entire season. A fake movie contract that she never even questions the validity of or even how it got there in the first place? Seriously??

Bowie was great for the few episodes he lasted. His whole subplot of being torn between MK and Julia's cheating to help them win while also not wanting to disappoint Raj made for some excellent drama in the first third of the season.

I'm also mixed on Axel and Ripper. On the one hand Axel got some depth showing that she's a bit of a romantic under her rough exterior, and Ripper was much more tolerable here than he was in season one. Unfortunately they got a major downgrade after they hooked up, being more concerned about making out than actually, you know, focusing on the competition to win a million dollars. Also Chris calling them both eliminated when Ripper grabbed Axel as the Drone of Despair was carrying her off? Yeah that was kinda cheap.

Lastly, Zee. I really enjoyed Zee, he constantly got laughs out of me. But once again, his elimination had me scratching my head because how the hell did he learn everyone's secrets in the first place? Did he walk in on everyone doing something embarrassing like with Priya kissing her pillow? Or did everyone decide that the soda stoner seemed like a trustworthy guy to share their secrets with?

And now for the final seven. And boy what a mixed bag they were.

Damien was pretty good this season. I really liked how he made an effort to compete this time around despite still being scared of pretty much everything on the island. I actually had him pegged as a potential finalist and was sad to see him go when he got outplayed by Julia stealing the Invincibility Idol out from under him.

Priya and Caleb... hooo boy, Priya and Caleb. I'll be honest, this whole season-long romantic subplot was kind of a mess. So first they had Caleb only wanting an alliance partner in Priya while she was crushing on him, only for Caleb to actually catch feelings for her, which then imploded after Zee revealed Caleb's original intentions. Then they had a whole deal with Julia manipulating both of them to try to keep them apart, and THEN they had Caleb make an alliance with Julia to save himself, which caused friction between him and Priya because Caleb doesn't wanna go back on his word?? It honestly felt like the writers were just throwing anything at the wall to see what stuck, and as a result the whole plotline felt like a tangled mess. Also this resulted in Priya getting a ton of screen time after she was already one of the main characters in season one. I can't call this the worst romantic subplot in TDI history because there have been way worse, but it also wasn't great either.

Wayne and Raj I'm also mixed on. I liked them in the first third where they opposed MK and Julia's cheating, but after that they were just kind of there. Honestly I wish they'd kept some of that animosity going into the merge and set the Hockey Bros up as season-long rivals for MK and Julia. In fact they could have used that for motivation for Wayne in the final challenge against Julia and Caleb, which would have given his ultimate victory more emotional weight. While I don't hate Wayne winning, I feel like it could've been done in a more interesting way.

Lastly, MK and Julia. These girls were easily the best part of the season for me. I loved their friendship born of mutual respect for each other's skills, to the point where MK wasn't even mad and honestly impressed when Julia pulled one over on her to get voted off. While I'm a little disappointed it didn't evolve into a full romance, I still enjoyed their friendship. Plus I feel like the seeds have been planted for a future romance if we get a third season, and overall the fandom has been given a lot to work with.

As for Julia herself, she really came into her own as an antagonist this season after sharing that role with Bowie in season one. Granted some of her methods did feel a little forced (see Nichelle and Caleb above), and it felt like there was untapped potential for a rivalry between her and the Hockey Bros, but overall I really enjoyed Julia.

And there you have it. Overall, I think I'd give this season a 6.5/10. There were a lot of elements I liked, but an equal amount of stuff I didn't enjoy. It's not as good as the best of Total Drama, but also nowhere near as bad as the worst. Personally I would love to get a new season with this cast, I feel like there's still a lot of untapped potential here.

[willgrahamsbecoming]

why chilton?

AAALRIGHT im going to assume you're coming from my confession thing (chilton is the most reasonable character) so i'll answer that first.

(coming back up here after writing a bit, this is long and spoiler-y so i'm adding a read more. @ vic youre already up to season 3 just wait ok)

also a disclaimer: i'm writing all of this from memory while freezing in the wind at the bus stop. errors may follow

chilton may be a dumbass when it comes to his own actions BUT everyone is tbh so thats kinda just the baseline

however! he was one of the only people to believe will. he saw the evidence (albeit the little of it there was, since hannibal left very little) that pointed to hannibal, and he was able to put aside his positive associations and think critically about it

jack and alana both let their personal connection to hannibal cloud their judgement until it was too late. which is understandable! i love both of them as well. but out of those three people we see regularly interacting with hannibal personally, having dinner as friends (or more!), frederick is the only one who was willing to consider that hannibal was the ripper

of course beverly did as well, but she wasnt close with hannibal, and breaking into his house without telling anyone where she was going unfortunately docks some reasonable points. sorry bev </3

(and bedelia. but she didnt really try to do much about it except send smoke signals in the form of wine and truffles. i can understand that though. go get your europe holiday girl)

he was also the only one to see hannibal and will's fucked up relationship in season 3 ("with those two [disembowelling] is tantamount to flirtation" in aperitivo).

and now for more general 'why he's my favourite' stuff!

i really love his character arc - it's almost circular, and hes still recognisable as the frederick chilton we meet in entrée by the time the number of the beast is 666 rolls around, but he's taken his experiences in and grown as a person, imo. still confident, still egotistical, but still Changed.

and the fact that he's still the same by the end is really meaningful! because we all know that this man is a human punching bag - he went through so much over the course of the show, but he got back up every time. he's an incredibly strong person for that (and probably a little - or very - stubborn!), and it's very admirable. he held his head up and he faced abel gideon after he vivisected him (he stood right in front of him! the man who had broken out of restraints more than once!), he sat and ate with hannibal (more than once, we can assume) after he'd attacked him in his home and left three mutilated corpses for him and left him pretty much for dead

(im sure jack wouldve shot him if he hadnt surrendered and been someone familiar, and he wouldve likely been tried and if found guilty, executed much like hannibal should have been without frederick and alana saving his ass)

of course, this insistence on standing his ground led to his unfortunate fate in s3e12, but it's not his fault he didnt forsee a third attempt on his life. his strength is admirable nonetheless

i'd dock reasonable points for 'trusting will graham' but everyone did. that's another baseline. (aside from bedelia, i suppose. but her first impression of him was hannibal's pathetic little rambles in hannibal-mandated therapy)

also he's a funny little guy and has some of the best lines in the show. and he's played by raúl esparza who did so INCREDIBLY like holy shit

okay i think im out of stuff to say and i'm nearly at my stop thanks 4 reading

[boldlyvoid]

Midnight Runner part 2

18+ Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: having a crush during the end of the world was difficult

Warnings: season 4 canon scenes just fruitier, coming out, teasing, flirting, overprotective steve

word count: 9.4k

Fic Masterlist

Steve convinces Robin to take a trip to the grocery store before heading over to pick up Dustin and Max. She doesn’t question it, she thinks it’s actually kinda cute that he wants to take care of Eddie as much as he can. He gets mostly snacks, things for breakfast and a pack of cigarettes for good measure.

Withdrawal isn’t fun and he was stressed as fuck, Steve would want a smoke too.

They didn’t talk much about it last night, not that Robin didn’t try and ask why he was being so quiet, Steve just didn’t know what to say. He has had these mixed feelings about Eddie for years… he was loud and opinionated and seemingly fearless. He had no problem biting back, sometimes he started shit for fun and he always knew how to end it. He’s probably been in more fights than Steve and yet Steve has never seen him with a black eye. Anytime Steve saw him on the bench outside the principal's office, he was waiting for his uncle to pick him up after another suspension with an icepack on his ringless fingers. He can't remember if he had his rings on that night… he was so caught up in the feeling of everything else that he can't place those little details anymore.

He couldn’t wait to see Eddie again. After a long night of only thinking about him, he wanted nothing more than to be in his presence and see his eyes and hear his voice. He knew he was pretty before, but now he was everything… he’s almost glad he never believed Robin that his mystery man was Eddie because a year of this crush he was feeling would’ve killed him. One day is already almost unbearable.

In the car, Dustin and Max explain everything they heard on the radio that night and Robin tells them that they couldn’t get a hold of Nancy, apparently, she was working late at the newspaper and must’ve stayed out… Mrs. Wheeler was worried about her, and wanted them to call if or when they heard from her, just to be safe with everything going on.

At least one of their parents was worried for them.

Everyone takes a bag out of Steve’s trunk and walks them back towards the boat house. The street is quiet, the lake is empty apart from the ducks that can be heard… and what sounds like a loon?

“Delivery service!” Dustin announces their presence as soon as the door opens.

They find Eddie in the corner, broken beer bottle still in hand, terrified, “Jesus Christ!”

Steve just smiles and gives him a little wave, the kind where all his fingers wiggle and he can’t help but smile harder. “Hi…”

Eddie sighs and relaxes, “hi.”

“We come bearing gifts,” Robin says, walking over to him while opening one of the bags, “you’re not lactose intolerant right?”

He laughs, “no… what did you bring?”

“We thought you’d like some cereal and chips… and goldfish? There’s some water, a few cokes and chocolate milk,” Robin explains.

Eddie takes a seat with his things and immediately rips open the box of cereal, he accompanies it with chocolate milk, alternating between handfuls of cereal and swigs of milk, he eats like a feral dog.

"So we’ve got some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer?" Dustin asks before diving in.

“Bad news first, always,” looks at him like he should know that already.

“We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro and they’re definitely looking for you… also, they’re uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.” Dustin explains.

“Like 100% kinda convinced,” Max adds, having been there in Dustin's room when the transitions came through.

“And the good news?” Eddie looks at Dustin with a glimmer of hope still shining in his eyes.

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet,” Robin answers, drawing his attention that way, all while Steve is leaning against the post, watching Eddie with a sorrowful feeling in his chest. The poor boy didn’t deserve this and there was no way for Steve to make it better for him.

“But if we found out about you, it’s only a matter of time before others do, too, and once that gets out everyone and their shallow-minded mother is going to be gunning for you,” Robin keeps rambling, knowing much more about Eddie than the other kids, she knew what things the town was going to say about him and the name started with and F.

“Hunt the Freak, right?” Eddie look her in the eye, he could tell she meant a different word but it still fit.

“Exactly.”

“Shit.”

“So, before that happens,” Dustin, ever the optimist, jumps in to soothe his anxiety. “We need to find Vecna, kill him and prove your innocence.”

“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” Eddie almost snaps because that doesn’t seem simple in the slightest.

“Yeah, no, yeah that’s pretty much it…”

Eddie looks like he could reach over and strangle him, it wasn’t going to be simple, not now, not ever. Even if the plan worked, the cops weren’t going to believe it was a monster from another world that did it. There were monsters in America doing crimes just as bad as this shit every fucking day, no one ever thought it would happen in Hawkins, but it is. Bringing justice to the victims, especially the pretty little white cheerleader, is going to come at a price and sometimes that price was paid by someone the jury of his peers simply didn’t like.

Him.

“Listen, Eddie,” Robin draws him back out of it. “I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this stuff before— I mean, they have…”

Eddie turns to Steve, shocked that this was something he had lived through… which means all the stories Dustin had about Steve being a badass were real. He really did know how to kill anything, he really has protected Dustin from a pack of wolves… even if they were actually from a hell dimension. Steve kept him safe. Steve fought for him. Maybe he’d fight for me too?

“A—a few times, and I have once,” Robin keeps talking, still clearly traumatized by it all. “Mine was more human-flesh-based and theirs was more smoke-related— but bottom line is, collectively, I really think we’ve got this.”

Steve finally chirps in then, “yeah, see we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but uh, they went bye-bye, so…”

“Sore we’re technically in more of uh…” Robin tries to keep the assurance up, but everyone else also struggles to find a silver lining.

“Brainstorming phase?” Max finally finds the word.

“Brainstorming!” Steve snaps his fingers and points at him with a smile.

“There’s—there’s nothing to worry about?” Dustin’s voice goes up a pitch like it usually does when he’s lying, causing Eddie to roll his eyes.

Steve scoffs, laughing because he felt awkward, it felt like there was very little hope… especially without Nancy and Joyce. They always knew what to do.

The sound of the siren draws their attention away from Dustin's failed attempt at comforting Eddie. “Tarp! Tarp now!” Robin points to the boat, ushering Eddie over to it and pulling the blue sheet over him.

They rush to the window of the boathouse, crowding the pane, Steve stands on his tip-toes to watch an ambulance head up the road with two cop cars close behind. It isn’t even really a question if they’re going to follow it or not, Dustin simply grabs his bag and heads to the door with Max and Robin in tow. Steve stalls, knowing they have to leave Eddie if they want to go investigate, and he hates leaving him alone, but who else was going to drive the kids towards the danger? Max? Never again.

He takes a moment to tell Eddie it was just an ambulance and they’re going to check it out, he kneels beside the boat and pats Eddie on the shoulder just as he pulls the tarp back, ready to talk but Eddie grabs his wrist, keeping his hand there, “radio me later and tell me what’s going on? Me and Dustin use 96.6 on the AM frequency, no one else should be on it if you have his walkie…”

“Yeah, I will,” he gives him a sweet smile, “don’t worry.”

Steve had the worrying covered for him.

—

They’re alone in the car for maybe 5 seconds before Dustin brings it up, “so… are we gonna talk about… it?”

Steve is too busy watching the door, making sure Max is safe, “huh? Sorry, talk about what?”

For a moment he panics, thinking Dustin saw the way he looked at Eddie, or maybe picked up on all the things Steve bought for Eddie with his own money to make sure he was fed while hiding… or the way Eddie touched him before he left? But no, he once again thinks Steve is in love with every woman he speaks to.

“Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance?” Dustin exaggerates what just happened at the trailer park.

“First of all, that’s not what happened,” Steve corrects him.

“Pretty sure that’s what happened,” Dustin shrugs, always having to be right.

“No.”

“It was pretty public, there were like a lot of witnesses.”

“Are you implying that I still have a thing for Nance?” Steve just gets it out in the open for him.

“I’m not implying… I’m stating,” Dustin teases as if he’s trying to piss him off. “AND as it relates to your steadfast refusal to date Robin, it’s pretty much the only logical option…”

Steve huffs, that’s the part that makes his blood fill with rage, “thats not the only one… And as for Nance, I was just trying to protect a friend.”

Dustin bites the inside of his lip so he won’t laugh, not believing him at all.

“A friend, Henderson. A Friend. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dustin agrees to settle it but Steve can see in his face that he’s just going to bring it up another time, he wasn’t going to let go of it that easily.

“I don’t want to find her in the morning with her eyes sucked out the front of her skull by this Vecna creep!!” Steve panics and tells him half of the truth. He wasn’t sure if the real truth would bode well with him… sure, Mrs. Henderson was a democrat but that didn’t mean their household was okay with gay people.

The last thing he needed was to lose Dustin at a time like this.

Dustin laughs at him, it’s always funny when Steve is the one to get into these panic rambles. “You’re like bright red in the face right now.”

“No I’m not, I don’t want to talk about it— I’ll punch you so hard in your face your teeth’ll fall back out.”

Mean girl Steve jumped out before he even has a chance to realize the cage was open, he reels her back in and turns to Dustin as he registers what was said, a look of pure regret on his face.

“Woah, too far,” Dustin stares back at him, worried… he’s never been on the receiving end of Steve’s bad attitude.

There’s a pause, they look at each other completely seriously, understanding it was all a bit and it’s over now. “Not cool. Sorry,” he apologizes immediately.

“Not cool, but it’s okay,” Agrees and accepts, nodding softly and smiling, “seriously though… why is it that you’re just friends with two of the prettiest girls I know?”

It's now or never. The last thing he needed was Dustin asking him about the girls in front of Eddie. He didn’t need Eddie thinking he was just some one-time jock in the forest who wanted to try something and never talk about it again. He really liked Eddie. When this is all over, he wants to get to know Eddie better than ever before, better than anyone else knows him. And Dustin was his key to doing that.

“Did you ever consider the fact that maybe girls aren’t the only people I like…?”

Dustin is a bit taken aback by it, he purses his lips and thinks about it for a sec, and then he smiles “really?”

Steve nods, “yeah, so I spend a lot of my time talking to Robin about boys I like… and girls too. I’m just hung up on someone who isn’t Nancy, and it’s not Robin either, I’m just not ready to talk to you about it.”

“Okay,” Dustin is super understanding, “sorry for bugging you all the time, before, I never would’ve thought… but it’s cool. It’s really cool, you’d be a great boyfriend to another dude.”

“Thanks,” he manages to smile. “It’s only you and Robin who know… so don’t tell anyone—

“I would never,” Dustin reaches over and lays his hand on Steve's arm, “I promise.”

“Good,” he pulls Dustin into a hug and pats his back before he lets him go. “Thank you.”

“No problem, man,” Dustin leans back in his seat and looks out the front window as if nothing happened. “Can you not tell me because he’s not out yet and you want him to choose when I find out?”

“No… it’s kinda one-sided right now,” Steve admits. “I would call it a crush but I don’t want you to tease me.”

“No, no, it’s cute,” Dustin smirks, trying not to laugh at him. “Do I know him?”

“Maybe?” He lies, he thinks it’s convincing enough. “I barely know him.”

Dustin looks at him with a smirk, “you know, I have other gay friends who I could hook you up with?”

Steve looks at him funny, “you know other gay people?”

He nods, “yeah, why else do you think we’re all searching for fantasy worlds? This one isn’t accepting, trust me, I know… so we made a cool world in our game where we can all be different and it’s allowed… and I have a feeling based on who has a boyfriend in the game, I know who would love to have a real boyfriend.”

“Are you… gay?” Steve can’t help but ask, they’re more similar than Steve realizes, sometimes.

Dustin shrugs, “never thought too hard about it but it doesn’t gross me out to think about kissing a boy, so, who knows? I’ve just always been bullied for my disability, so in dungeons and dragons I can be both smart and agile, I don’t have to worry about breaking something or being in pain for days after a big game. I feel normal there. Everyone else does too.”

“I’m glad you have that,” Steve smiles thinking about how happy Dustin is after every game and how much that has to do with Eddie. “We really need to find a way to get the police to believe that it wasn’t Eddie… we can’t have you losing that.”

“Right,” Dustin, once again, see’s through him. “So you can take him out on a date after?”

“Do I need to take it too far again?” Steve teases, looking at him with a fake sense of dominance while holding his fist up. He smiles, breaking character and the two of them crack up. Laughing almost too hard to notice Max running towards the car.

—

If Vecna wanted to curse people with sad home lives, why didn’t he just pick Steve?

He’s the only one awake still, involuntarily taking the first watch while the rest of the party went to sleep. Mrs. Wheeler was fine with everyone staying now that she knew where Nancy was, she just made them separate at night. Steve had Dustin and Lucas with him down in the basement while Max and Robin were sharing a sleeping bag on Nancy’s bedroom floor.

Steve has been watching them sleep for about 30 minutes, they’ve been snoring the whole time, he doesn’t think they’ll wake up if he moves but he still gets up slowly. He reaches for Dustin's bag and pulls the walkie out from the front pocket and backs away from their sleeping spot. They don’t even budge, thank god.

In the back corner of the Wheeler’s basement, behind the stairs, is the laundry room and the utility closet, just far enough away from the boys that he wouldn’t be heard. He sits down with his back against the dryer and uses the light on the water heater to see the frequency gauge on the radio.

He moves it to 96.6 and holds down the talk button, “Eddie, you there?”

“Steve?” Eddie questions, knowing for sure it’s not Dustin’s voice coming through. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember a kid named Fred Benson? He was on the newspaper team with Nancy?”

“Yeah, I know him,” Eddie says with a sigh, he could already tell where this was going.

“So uh, Fred died just like Chrissy. He was at your trailer with Nance to interview Wayne and then he disappeared into the woods and they found him this morning where Cornwallis meet’s Lover’s Lane,” Steve explains and then lets go of the button.

The radio static is all that can be heard, and Eddie is quiet. Too quiet. “You copy?” Steve asks, worried he never heard him.

“Yeah, yeah sorry… Do you think the trailer park is cursed?”

“That’s what I asked when we went back to get Nancy’s car,” Steve shares with a slight smile on his face. It was weird talking to him and not playfully pissing the other off. “But uh, we’ve got more bad news… both Chrissy and Fred were getting headaches, bad dreams and visions before they died, it started gradually and then got worse until they died. It’s probably why Chrissy wanted drugs, she couldn’t handle it alone…”

“She seemed really fucked up, I mean, she’d have to be to come to me?” Eddie believes it, “I guess the trailer park isn’t cursed then because they got sick before coming to the park, they just all happened to die near it?”

Steve hates that he has to tell him this next part.

“Max admitted to us that she has all the symptoms and we were there for her vision… it was so freaky, I’m sorry you had to see the whole thing with Chrissy.”

Eddie bypasses the niceties and goes right to the issue at hand, “So we’re 3 for 3 on connections to just my trailer now,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“Yeah, but at least that gave us somewhere to start looking,” Steve assures him.

“Did you find anything?”

“When Nancy was there with Fred, your uncle told her all about Victor Creel and how he killed his family in the 50’s… she went to the Library and found some articles about it and they’re going to look into it more tomorrow, so I’m not sure if we’ll be able to come see you at all?”

“That’s okay,” Eddie replied, he didn’t really mind.

“Are you okay being there all alone?” Steve asks, still worried for him. It’s just his luck that the first person he’s crushed this hard on since Nancy would end up being wanted for murder. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to get cursed too. “You’re not feeling any of the symptoms?”

“I mean, I have a headache from being up for almost 3 days and when I do sleep I get nightmares because I’m processing the trauma… but yeah, I’m fine. It just sucks being here ‘cause I’m a little afraid of the dark… I’m not gonna lie, Steve, it’s a lot scarier now that I know what’s out there,” Eddie admits.

“I’m sorry…but you’re okay? You still have snacks and you’re warm enough?”

“Dustin wasn’t kidding when he said you were like a mother hen,” Eddie teased him.

Steve laughs then too, holding the button down so he catches the end of his giggle, “yeah, yeah, I take care of the people I care about, sue me, Munson.”

“You care about me, Harrington?” Eddie asks with a fondness in his voice that Steve can hear.

“Yeah,” Steve answers, squeezing his eyes closed with regret. “I mean, Dustin loves you so if anything happened to you he’d be deviated… I have to take care of you for his sake.”

“Yeah, no, I get it, you’re doing it for the kids…” Eddie sounded disappointed almost. “Um, thanks again for the groceries, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m sure Reefer Rick doesn’t have anything edible— I mean, he probably does, I should say he doesn’t have anything that won’t get you high when you eat it in his house,” Steve teases, “I wasn’t going to let you starve, it’s bad enough you’re wanted for murder.”

“Do they really think I was able to kill Fred too? Why don’t they think I’m a victim too if they can’t find me?” Eddie asks, “it’s just straight-up bad police work to think it’s me?”

“If only Hopper was still here, he knew all about this shit,” Steve admits. “He died closing the last gate that opened under the mall.”

“From the girl with the superpowers?”

“No, actually the Russian’s made it but thats another story,” Steve doesn’t want to get into it either. “El closed the first one and Hop died closing the second…. he like adopted her and everything before he died but now she lives with Jonathan Byers and his mom and brother,” Steve explains, “and we can’t get ahold of them in California, so I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“I should’ve known there was more to that zombie boy story…”

“Yeah… it’s just gotten crazier each year,” Steve can’t believe it either, and this is his 4th go-around. “But we’ve won 3 times, so…”

“The odds look good,” Eddie agrees, somewhat optimistically. “Can you give me the stats, what kills this thing? What’s its weakness?”

“Well, the mindflayer doesn’t like heat so we’ve been just lighting everything on fire, we used fireworks last time cause the monster was fucking huge when normally they’re like either little dog size things and their mouths open like those flowers that eat flies— Venus fly traps, thats it, and there’s some that are like 8 feet tall scary men sized dudes, we call them demogorgons, they also have the big opening mouth for a head, it’s fucking horrific,” Steve doesn’t mean to ramble but he’s never really been able to tell anyone about this stuff, other than Robin.

Eddie stays quiet on the other end, “they’re cold-blooded if they don’t like heat… which would make sense cause you said their world is nasty and dark, right?”

“Yeah, only Nancy, Joyce, Hopper and Will have actually been in the upside down and come back alive, I was in these tunnels between the worlds with the kids— once again, setting shit on fire, to give the others an upper hand… It all works like a hive mind if you burn one thing the whole system suffers.”

“So this Vecna fucker must be the puppet master,” Eddie agrees, “were the other monsters just feelers for what he could do or do you think this is an evolutionary thing?”

“Evolutionary?”

“Yeah, like in my games sometimes one villain has multiple evolutions, it starts small and then gets bigger and badder as time goes on and they take more souls and shit,” Eddie explains. “Maybe that’s why Chrissy and Fred ended up so broken like that… it’s like Vecna is sucking their life force out of them for his own gain?”

“The thing we fought last time was a bunch of infected people from Hawkins who all turned to mush and then formed one big monster with a gaping mouth and 6 legs… it was huge, like the size of a monster truck.” Steve shares, “So it’s like he found a cleaner approach to absorbing them?”

“Make sure you tell Nancy that in the morning,” Eddie says as a way of agreeing with him. “That could be really important.”

“I will, they’ll figure something out with it, I know it,” Steve assures him.

“You should get some sleep,” Eddie cares about him right back. “Those kids need you at your best.”

He can’t help but smile like a fool, “okay… are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Honestly? Probably not,” he admits, feeling a lot more comfortable with Steve now… “but I’m going to let you go, have a good night, Steve.”

“Try to sleep for me?” Steve asks, softer than ever before. “Head back into the main house and crawl into Rick's bed and just try… take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, mom,” he teases Steve one last time and then he’s gone. Radio off, hopefully heading back inside to sleep.

Steve sits there for a few more minutes with the radio pulled to his chest in a semi-hug, he wanted this to work out more than anything in the world.

—

Eddie hears a car pull up to the main house just after 3 pm that afternoon, one that doesn’t sound like Steve's or Nancy’s, it sounds bigger. He thinks maybe they brought a different vehicle after whatever they were up to that led to their radio silence all day… but he can’t see the road from where he is in the boathouse.

Sure enough, he heard 3 doors slam followed up by the worst voice he knew.

“Come on out, Freak!” Jason called out, letting him know they were coming for him.

He crouches by the window, staying low and still so no one sees him back there. He takes his walkie in hand and holds down the button, “Hey, Dustin? You there? It’s Eddie. You remember me, right?”

Nothing.

“Hey, uh, if… anyones there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here. Okay?”

Still nothing.

“Wheeler?” He begs, peaking out the window to see if the jocks have spotted the boat house yet.

“Steve?!” His voice gets a bit louder, more panicked and then he reaches a new level of desperation, he smacks the radio and almost yells through gritted teeth, “anybody?!?”

Still absolutely fucking nothing.

He shakes his head in disbelief and quickly gets back under the tarp in the boat, he’ll just pretend he’s not there as long as humanly possible… he hears them shouting his name and other derogatory terms around the yard and from inside the house, threatening to kill him if they find him. After about an hour, they quiet down. It becomes a once-a-half-hour thing for one of them to yell for Eddie as they tore the house apart worse than the police when they arrested Rick.

The sun eventually goes down around 8:30, after hours and hours of hiding, he finally hears Jason say what he’s been so afraid of.

“Has anyone checked the boathouse?”

He takes a deep breath and accepts his fate, he could either sit there and wait and hope they’re not as smart as Steve to start poking around where they didn’t belong… or, he could grab an oar and he could start to paddle out across Lovers Lake, towards Skull Rock. Before he can even think it over, his instincts kick in and he’s rowing his boat away from the dock.

He gets about halfway into the lake when Jason spots him, once again, calling out for the freak. Shit.

Now that he’s been seen, he doesn’t give a fuck about being loud with the motor running, so he pulls the cord on the engine as hard as he can… and nothing. “Come on! Just come on!!”

Jason is ripping off his suit jacket, newly returned from his girlfriend's funeral, he was manic as fuck and scarier than ever. In a moment of desperation, Eddie leans towards the engine and begs her to cooperate, “come on, sweetheart, you’ve gotta help me out here…”

And to no avail, she’s dead in his hands too. Nothing seems to be going right for him. Not now. Not ever.

His anger builds the more he yanks on the cord, “you… piece… of.. shit… Goddamn it!!” He finally smacks the engine and grabs the oar again, he had to do everything himself.

By now, Jason is in the water and swimming towards him like a piranha that smells blood. Eddie paddles as fast as he can, just hoping and praying he makes it to the other side and Jason gets a fucking cramp or something so he has enough time to run. He really needs to be able to run. He was not going to die in the hands of Jason Carver, that would be fucking pathetic.

They’re so close to grabbing onto the boat and slowing him down. One wrong move and they could tip him out, grab a hold of him and drown him before he even has a chance to swim. He paddles faster and faster, always getting just a mere metre ahead of them when Patrick stops.

“Hey, come on, let’s go! We almost have him!” Jason calls out to him, causing Eddie to stop too.

He stands with the oar in his hand, waving it like a sword, “stay back!! Stay back, you hear me?!”

“Patrick?” Jason calls again, more concerned. “Patrick!!” He turns to Eddie, treading water and breathing heavily, “what did you do? What kind of devil work is… oh my god?” Jason's attention is pulled to his friend who is now floating out of the water and into the air.

“Not again,” Eddie doesn’t want to be there when it happens this time. He sits back down and paddles faster than ever before.

He runs before he can hear the sound of their bones breaking, the cartilage twisting and that awful snap and crunch… it’s the worst sound known to man and he hears it every time he closes his eyes already. He didn’t need to witness it again. He doesn’t turn back when he hears Jason's screams and cries for his friend, or when there’s the inevitable splash that indicates it's all over.

Vecna took yet another life in close proximity to him.

He gets all the way to the other side of the lake and jumps out of the boat, he doesn’t tie it down or give a shit where it ends up, he’s got to go. He runs like a bat out of hell through the woods while his mind races in a million different directions. He didn’t even realize he left the radio in the boat until he reaches an all-too-familiar spot in the woods.

The tree where it all started.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns towards it, he grips the bark like his life depends on it and then wraps his arms around it. He holds onto the fucking tree like it's his lover after a long war, his chest is heaving, and he’s so tired and out of breath and scared. He’s so fucking scared he could have a heart attack and die right here… but right here is where he belonged. Right here is safe and holy and good. He drops down to the ground, still leaning against the tree as he takes a deep breath and another one, he rubs the tree bark to ground himself with the texture and returns all rational thought back to his brain.

He would stay here tonight. No one will be cruising with a murderer on the loose and the cops had better things to do than dish out public indecency charges tonight. He was truly safe here. In the morning, however, he’d go back to the shoreline, he would get the radio from the boat and he’ll call for Steve… or Dustin. Either way, he’ll probably see Steve tomorrow.

He knew Gareth was right about his mystery midnight runner being Steve, he accepted it a while ago, actually. He just never expected Steve to be anything more than a jock. He didn’t expect him to be soft and caring and funny… he knew he was pretty sure, but his soft heart made him beautiful.

And to think that just last year Steve was playing basketball with the same kids that are trying to now kill Eddie right now… it was a strange double life that Steve led. He was both cool and responsible. He was a babysitter and a whore. He sucked dick like a god and left most of the women in Hawkins satisfied too.

He’s a bloody mystery that Harrington, boy.

And if Eddie liked anything for sure, it was a challenge. Getting Steve Harrington to like him back was going to be just that and so much more… he just had to live long enough to see it through.

—

Eddie called and asked Nancy for more food yesterday morning, they didn’t have time to visit him at all during the morning and then everything with Max got worse so Steve was preoccupied. By the time Steve sat back down by the dyer to call Eddie, it was almost midnight again and he didn’t pick up the radio at all… it left Steve with a pit in his stomach that wouldn’t go away.

Dustin was snoring with his mouth wide open, snuggled into a pillow on the floor, he let Lucas have the full couch tonight. Lucas stayed up a bit longer than he should’ve, worried for the girl he loved, he stared at Max until his eyes got heavy and sleep took over… which was exactly when Max stopped pretending she didn’t still love him, she walked over to the couch and wrapped a blanket over him, she kissed his forehead and went right back to the desk in the corner as if nothing happened.

Steve saw it all happen from the laundry room, she saw him talking to the walkie and just turned her music up louder, giving him the privacy that he didn’t need because Eddie wouldn’t pick up. Every few minutes he asked the same question on the radio, “hello? Anyone there?” Not wanting to say his name because he had no idea who else was on the line, anyone in the town could be on this frequency. Yet no one answered.

He moves back over to the couch with the radio on a low volume so he could still hear Eddie if he called but it wouldn’t startle the kids awake. He watches Max in the corner, her headphones on and music blasted, she was drawing in the corner with a little light on, perfectly fine.

Dustin's watch starts to beep at 4:30, Steve watches him sit right up and rub his eyes with a groan. He lets out a huff and then turns to Steve, “my turn to keep watch.”

“I’m good,” Steve waves him off. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nope,” Dustin stretches, his voice almost disappearing as all the air in his lungs is expelled. He takes another deep breath and then stands up, “I’m going to pee, your eyes better be closed when I get back out.”

“Fine,” Steve wasn’t going to fight with him, he simply clutches the radio a bit tighter and settles into the chair in a comfortable position.

His eyes are closed for barely 2 minutes when his brain wanders into sleep, his head drops forward and his breathing picks up. It makes Dustin smile when he comes back from the bathroom, he puts a blanket on Steve’s lap and leaves him be. He needed this rest.

He wakes up clutching a pillow like his life depended on it, startled and alarmed by how peaceful the sleep was until now. He stared at the black nothingness of his closed eyelids for 4 hours straight before Nancy was waking him up with a shake.

“We’ve gotta get ready to go, I’ve still got some of your clothes in my room if you want to change,” She admits. “Track pants and a yellow sweater?”

“Kay,” he hums, rubbing his eyes until he sees blue and green dots and his head starts to feel like he’s spinning. “Anything happening?”

“There are reports of another body being found, we need to go see—

“Eddie?” he wakes right up, realizing he doesn’t have the walkie anymore, he looks around the room and he’s the only one still downstairs. “Has anyone contacted him?”

She shakes her head, “still nothing.”

“Let’s go,” he rushes past her up the stairs to the main floor and then up more stairs on her way to Nancy’s room. The boys were rifling through Mike's drawers for new shirts while Robin and Max wore something from the bags they packed days ago, at the start of all this. They came prepared.

He changes in the bathroom as quickly as possible and returns to Nancy’s room with his keys in hand, “I’m going to take Dustin to the store, Eddie said he was hungry yesterday… we’ll be back in 15?”

“Okay,” Nancy doesn’t care that he’s all concerned for Eddie like he’s his lover, but Robin smirks at him. “Remember, he asked for beer when he called and with this news… he’s going to need it.”

—

When they roll up to Rick’s house, there’s a media frenzy and a million and 1 cop cars lining the streets. They all rush up behind a news van just in time to hear the inevitable. “We have named a person of interest… Eddie Munson.”

“Ah man,” Steve groans. “This is not good. Really not good.”

Everyone agreed but no one says anything, they just glance at each other, feeling a bit more than defeated. They felt hopeless.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?” Eddies voice crackles through the radio about too loud for where they are.

Dustin is quick to pull the radio out and turn the volume down, “Eddie, holy shit? Are you okay?”

“Nah man, pretty… pretty fuckin’ far from it, actually,” he admits, sounding totally and utterly devastated.

“Where is he?” Robin asks just as Dustin hits the button to talk back. “Where are you?” He asks.

“Skull rock, uh, do you know it?” He asks, probably because Dustin's a kid, he shouldn’t know the most popular make-out spot in Hawkins.

“Uh, yeah?” Dustin answers and turns to Lucas, “that’s near Cornwallis and—

“Garrett,” Steve finishes his sentence for him and pats his shoulder, running back to the car. “Yeah, I know where that is.”

Nancy tosses Steve the keys and they all follow him back to her car, he drives like a crazy person when he needs to, and they needed him to. They all pile back into the station wagon and he basically burns out, leaving tire marks on the asphalt.

He takes them down lover's lane back to Cornwallis for just a mile until he turns onto Garrett, heading up another mile to an all too familiar spot. The snow was long gone but the snowmobile trail was still there, he takes the car off the road and onto the trail, making everyone in the car scream and hold onto things to stay steady. He’s only off the road not even 20 seconds when he comes to an abrupt halt behind some bushes, “it's north from here.”

“Got it,” Dustin replies, digging out his compass while the gang gets out of Nancy’s car.

“And you said I was a risky driver!?” Max complains, straightening out her shirt and taking a deep breath. “That was insane?”

“I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta find him before the cops do?” Steve reminds her, feeling snippier than ever. He doesn’t stand around to listen to her answer, he starts walking in the direction he knows they should be going while they all follow.

“Damn, okay, what happened to you thinking he could’ve done this?” She can’t help but ask as she runs up beside him.

“He means a lot to Dustin… I’m not letting another one of you go through what you and Nancy have,” he admits… it’s not a lie, but it’s not where his true intentions lay either.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” she backs down. “But who’s going to take care of you?”

“What?” He stops.

“Who’s going to take care of you so that he doesn’t lose you? You’re the most important person he has, Steve, killing yourself to keep us safe is going to hurt him just as badly,” she reminds him, sounding a lot wiser than she should at 14.

He wraps his arm around her and keeps walking, “you can, how about that?”

“Deal,” she laughs and shoves his arm off of her, still not a touchy person.

Lucas catches up to them, hands full of groceries, Robin has another bag only she has chosen to walk with Nancy. Dustin has his compass and takes the lead, and it’s all fine and dandy until Steve starts to notice the same tree again and again… he tries to tell Dustin this, but he makes Steve look at the compass, he gives him a snarky lesson on how they work and Steve shoves him into a bush lightly.

“Hey!”

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way,” Steve argues. “I know these woods better than any of you. This is the wrong direction.

“It’s north, I’m positive, I double-checked the map.”

“You do realize Skull Rock is like a really popular make-out spot?” Steve starts to lose his cool.

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t popular until I made it popular,” Steve brags. “Alright? I practically invented it… we’re heading in the wrong direction.”

At this point he’s fed up and anxious, he cuts to his left and just starts going out on his own. He jogs downhill, jumps over twigs and keeps going no matter what Dustin says.

“Steve?!” Dustin simply calls after him, not wanting to admit he’s wrong.

“Stop whining and trust me!!” He starts to run, making up for lost time.

These were his woods. He played pretend out here as a kid, he followed his idiot friends out here to party and smoke, he had his first beer by the lake with Tommy… he had his first time by the lookout in his Beamer… and he met Eddie at that tree.

He stops just for a second to look at the tree, knowing skull rock was just a stone's throw from where they are. He keeps going, through the bushes and past the overgrown branches, “oh, boom!” He cheers when he finally sees it. “Bada-bing bada-boom, there she is, Henderson, skull rock.”

He holds the branches back so that the rest of the party can make it to the clearing in front of the giant rock formation. “In your face, man, in your stupid, cocky, little face.”

“It doesn’t make sense?” Dustin stares at him like he grew two heads and then back to the rocks.

“Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you right in the face, you can't admit it. You just can’t admit it that you’re wrong, you little butthead,” Steve drags on, eyes trailing the place for any sign of Eddie.

He drops down from the rock then, “I concur,” he announces his presence, drawing Steve's attention right to him, he has to try not to smile, instead, he turns away and rubs his face. “You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

“Jesus, we thought you were a goner,” Dustin sighs, walking into Eddie's space and stealing a hug from him.

“Yeah, me too man,” he sighs, patting his back while staring at Steve, he lets him go and keeps staring.

Steve gives him a smile and a nod, playing it cool when on the inside he wanted to run over to him and wrap him up in a hug, himself and make sure he was okay. He wanted to hold his face in his hands and look him over, he wanted to brush his hair out of his face and look into his eyes and— and he really needed to stop thinking about it.

Robin walks up to Eddie then, “hey, you’re okay?”

He nods, “yeah, as good as I can be.”

Steve didn’t even realize that Robin and Max were carrying the groceries for Eddie, not until Robin started handing him things, “how long have you been out here?”

“Since like 10 pm,” he explains, ripping into the bad for literally anything, he was so hungry he could eat a horse. “Tweedle dee and dumb chased me into the lake and then Patrick started to float and I couldn’t be there… I couldn’t handle it again so I did the thing that I do now. I ran.”

Eddie takes a box of cereal out of the paper bag, they’re cinnamon toast crunch this time because Steve thought he might like something different. He all but moans when he sees the box, “oh I’m so fucking excited to eat, I haven’t had anything since I called Nancy yesterday morning…”

“Dustin ate most of your Pringles,” Max teases, handing him the other bag of groceries and Lucas hands him the pack of beer, too.

“You’re a godsend,” he thanks Nancy, his eyes are like 10x bigger than normal, and he’s so happy he could cry…

“Steve got it all,” Nancy points and Steve straightens out, looking terrified as all eyes shift to him. “He’s the only one that can get beer…”

Eddie gasps, knowing he’s older than Steve and still not able to buy beer himself… “Harrington, do you have a fake ID?”

He nods, “yep… one of my dad's business partners is 27, he gave me his old licence. Don’t expect me to get you booze all the time now.”

“Well, thank you,” Eddie gives him a sweet smile. “But what the fuck took you guys so long?”

“We have a lot to tell you,” Nancy sighs, she takes a can of Pringles from Eddie’s snacks and leans against the rock. “We’re going to be here a while, dig in.”

—

“Sick, thats just fucking sick,” Eddie’s sarcasm is palpable, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes, it was a lot of information all at once and the only thing that really stood out was the now Eddie was wanted for not 1, but 3 murders.

The whole time they’ve been talking, Dustin has been pacing, talking to himself and smacking his compass in his hands. He looks distraught, he’s thinking so hard smoke might start coming out of his ears while the rest of the gang immediately starts discussing how they’re going to kill Vecna before he gets Max too.

“Well, we’re one step closer, we know how Vecna attacks,” Robin, once again, tries to make it seem like they’re got it all under control.

“And where he attacks from,” Lucas agrees, standing so close to Max you’d think they’re dating again.

“So, now we just need to sneak into his lair in the upside down and… and drive a stake through his heart?” Max suggests, arms crossed, a smug look on her face, she thinks it’s going to be easy.

“If he even has a heart,” Robin jokes.

“A stake? Is he like a vampire— is he a vampire?” Steve's voice lowers with excitement, it’s both cool and terrifying.

“It was a metaphor,” Max looks at him like he’s an idiot and Eddie jumps in to save him

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie suggests, knowing where they could get some guns.

“I say we chop his head off,” Lucas throws in for good measure.

Steve looks like he’s about ready to ask how that would help when Nancy steps back in… Eddie only knows because he’s been watching Steve talk and switching his attention over to Dustin every few seconds. He’s still pacing, still talking to himself, it’s strange, sure, but Steve is too pretty not to stare at when he talks.

“yeah— I say all the above, but we can’t do any of that,” Nance reminds them. “We need to find another gate.”

“We need to get El’s powers back,” Max follows up, it seems like the most effective way to win this.

“Everything was like way easier. We had this girl… and she had superpowers—

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned her,” Eddie cuts him off, he remembered perfectly everything that Steve has said to him these last few days. “But, hey uh, Henderson’s no uh, cursed? Is he?”

Steve looks at Eddie and then Dustin and back to Eddie, catching his eyes and staying there, “cursed, no, no… mental? Absolutely.”

“BOOM!!!!” Dustin suddenly pops off, everything clicking in his head.

Everyone jumps out of their skin for a moment, startled to their core by the sheer volume of his voice. “Badda… badda… boom!” He points at Steve and walks toward him. “I was right. Skull Rock was north.”

Steve's blood starts to boil, like a real brother, Dustin never fails to find a way to grind his gears and piss him off. He crosses his arms and sighs, “seriously? You’re serious?”

“Mhm,” Dustin smirks, holding back the key information so he can wow them in a sec.

“THIS IS SKULL ROCK?!” Steve freaks out, pointing at the fucking rock formation and then down to Eddie who’s squatting on the floor like a fucking champ… (he’s been squatting for so long, Steve is a lot more than impressed, he was invested in seeing how long he could go. But that’s not the point.)

“You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong! Right now!!” He speaks with his hands, gesticulating with anger.

“yes… and no.”

“Oh my god,” Steve has to fight off the urge to swing at him, he instead turns around and covers his face. He takes a few deep breaths while Dustin continues.

“This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheelers, it was correct when we got in the car on Kerley but it started to slip the further east we went,” Dustin explains. “Now! it’s… way off?”

Steve turns back to him, looking at him with an expression Dustin can read as ‘and your point is?’

“When I was leading us here I wasn’t wrong!” Dustin assures, pointing to his own chest, he stares into Steve’s eyes for approval. “The compass was.”

“So you’re using faulty equipment? Dude, you’re still wrong!” Steve can’t believe him, or his fucking tone.

“It isn’t faulty… Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?” He asks as if he’s Mr. Clarke and this is grade 7 all over again.

“Any electromagnetic field!” Lucas clues in immediately, validating Dustin's theory.

“Yep,” Dustin smiles, ego bubbling inside of him and reaching a boiling point that they can’t return from.

“I’m sorry…” Robin steps in, “I must’ve skipped that class?”

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power… so either there is some super big magnet around OR—

“There’s a gate,” Lucas cuts Dustin off, remembering how he was the first one to ever find a gate to begin with.

“But we’re nowhere near the lab?” Nancy is trying so hard to comprehend all this, but geographically, it’s not working in her mind.

“But what if, somehow… there’s another gate?” Dustin hypothesizes. “A gate that we don’t know about…? It’d have to be smaller. Way less powerful.”

“Snack-sized gate!” Robin teases, remembering all the little labels on the snacks Eddie just ate, it fit the situation and even made Nancy smile a bit.

“Okay but how? Why?” Steve is the last to really get on board with it.

“No idea?” Dustin admits. “All I know is something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is because then we’d have a way to Vecna and a shot at freeing Max from this curse…” and with that, Dustin makes his grand exit from stage one and heads into the woods.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Steve yells at him, but he doesn’t stop. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Eddie's still a wanted man! We can’t just go for a hike in the woods??” Steve panics, his voice even cracks.

Robin looks at him with a knowing smirk, Nancy even picks up on it, they knew Steve more than anyone else in the party. Eddie however, he’s never seen Steve react like that… in fact, no one has ever really cared for his safety like this. No one but Wayne. Wayne would probably like him.

“This little steal capsule might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie,” it’s incredibly pointed at Steve, and then he turns to said wanted man. “What say you, Eddie the banished?”

Everyone turns to him and he looks away, staring off at the ground, he bites his lip and thinks about it. “I’d say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor… which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea…”

He catches Steve nodding along, clueless, but agreeing.

“but the shire… the shire is burning,” Eddie exaggerates, hyping Dustin up unintentionally to the point that the 15-year-old starts to jump up and down like a toddler, rustling the leaves under his feet.

Eddie places his hands on his knees and stands up straight, “so Mordor it is.”

He walks right past Nancy, just as clueless as Steve, but she doesn’t care, she follows Eddie. And Robin follows Nancy, and soon, everyone is following Eddie who isn’t ready at all to be a leader. He turns back around and notices he left all his shit by the rock just as Steve is catching up with everything.

“The fuck is Mordor?” He asks himself, absentmindedly following everyone when Eddie bumps into him on the way back to the rock, “get your shit man, let’s go.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie picks it up with haste and runs back in front of Steve, slipping on the dewy grass and almost falling when Steve places his hand on his back to keep him steady.

Dustin takes the lead again, explaining the science to Nancy and Robin who followed him the fastest. Lucas and Max have heard it all before, so they just trail behind and no one cares that Steve stays back with Eddie, about 10 feet behind everyone else, he bumps Eddie’s shoulder and smiles at him. “You’re not going to thank me for breakfast?”

He laughs, “just add it to the things I have to thank you for.”

“Huh?” Steve doesn’t know what he means.

“You know,” Eddie references towards the trees, “just everything you’re willing to do for me… without anything in return.”

Steve almost stops breathing, stopping dead in his tracks, “you know?”

He nods, “yeah, I’ve known for a while… why when did you figure it out?”

“When you almost killed me 2 days ago?” Steve admits, he bites his lip and then shakes his head as he laughs. “I mean, Robin was saying it was probably you, but… I don’t know, I was kinda building him up in my head and then I couldn’t—

“Separate fact from fiction,” Eddie cuts him off, knowing all too well what thats like. “Gareth accused me of the same thing.”

Steve sighs and pats his shoulder, making him keep walking so they don’t lose Dustin and the gang. “Come on, we can talk about it later… I have a lot to tell you if we make it out of this.”

“I’m honestly surprised you’re not freaking out?”

“I had my time to freak out,” Steve teases. “Robin heard it all.”

“So she’s…”

Steve nods, “yeah. Is Gareth?”

Eddie nods too, looking forward to see everyone so far ahead of them. “Are you?”

Steve smiles, “yeah, couldn’t you tell?”

Eddie chuckles, “yeah, which is why it was so hard for me to come to terms with the fact it was you… cause like where the fuck did that come from, Steve?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s pretty easy to replicate once I’ve had one… and I’ve had quite—

“You whore,” Eddie whispers as he bumps his shoulder, smirking away. “But it paid off…”

“You’re going to give me an ego,” Steve shoves him right back.

“At least we’ll know where Dustin gets it from,” Eddie teases him once again.

And Steve loved every second of it.

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[shrikeseams]

half-assed fish tacos

because @deactigayted got me thinking about these and I don't think I've shared the recipe here, and irl kinda sucks right now and this feels productive.

Note: this is half-assed by my standards, but I 100% have family who think this is a full ass recipe because of the frying. You are warned. You could also very easily use the pre-made protein of your choice, or add sour cream or avocado or whatever!

For the fish:

Tilapia filets

Tony Chacherie's (or a seasoning mix of your choice)

Lemon juice

Vegetable oil • cornstarch or flour (optional) (the cornstarch is crispier)

Lightly dust the filets then cover with lemon juice and let them marinate for 30 min or up to two hours. (Any longer and the lemon juice kinda cooks the fish.) (You can skip the lemon juice component! We just like seafood extra lemony, especially something bland like tilapia.) Make the slaw while the fish marinates.

If desired, pour out a little dish of cornstarch / flour and mix in some of your seasoning mix, then slightly coat/ bread the filets with cornstarch. (Not necessary but nice for the texture. )

Cover the bottom of a skillet with a light layer of oil. Like about enough to cover a coin if you dropped one in. Once it's warmed (starch/flour sprinkled in will fizz and cook instead of sinking to the bottom), pan fry the filets until cooked through and crispy and golden brown on the outside. Lay on a paper towel to drain.

For the slaw:

Bag of pre-cut mixed slaw, whichever kind you like best

About 3 tbsp sour cream or Greek yogurt (you could do mayo but I dislike the taste. Idk about good vegan or nondairy options.)

About 1 tbsp lime juice (can substitute lemon or apple cider vinegar or rice vinegar if you prefer. Something acidic! Red wine vinegar seems like a bad idea though.)

About 1/4 tsp minced garlic

Cumin powder (be generous- I'd start with a tablespoon and check the taste)

Some minced jalapeño/other chili/Chipotle in Adobe (to taste)

If desired, cayenne or smoked chipotle powder

Basically whatever seasonings you like plus a pretty thick, tangy dairy and something acidic

Mix up the sour cream, lime juice, and seasoning in a mixing bowl. Taste to check seasoning. When it's how you like, mix the slaw in thoroughly. It should be lightly coated all over.

To serve:

Small flour tortillas

Pile some slaw in the bottom of the tortilla and put the fish on top. Add whatever other toppings you like, i don't know your life! Eat.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

INSIDE OUT 2 slowly treks to possibly unseating Photoreal LION KING, now playing in Japan where the original made around $30-35m USD, while DESPICABLE ME 4 slowly climbs towards the big billion. If it does so, that makes it the first film in the franchise to do that since the third movie way back in 2017. MINIONS: THE RISE OF GRU was close but no cigar two summers back.

Both movies continue to fill up the auditoriums at the cinema I work at...

However, a new movie on the block with a curious helping of *2D* animation in it... Is not... The Sony release HAROLD AND THE PURPLE CRAYON, directed by Blue Sky alum Carlos Saldanha (ICE AGE 2, RIO 1 & 2, FERDINAND) in his live-action debut. I know some are having a lark at the weird Zachary Levi FX vehicle arriving a year after completion with no marketing, bombing hard, but I can't help but think... That just sucks.

And a big case of "what could've been?" Hollywood's been trying to adapt the Crockett Johnson-written book, first published in 1955, since the 1990s. Animated shorts and a TV series were made, but the movie just stalled and stalled, shuffling through different directors and iterations... And mediums. Sony Animation at one point, in conjunction with Amblin, was supposed to do a feature based on this... So now we got this movie, finished some time in early 2023 with an MPA rating and everything... Months before its initial release date (late July 2023), with no trailer in sight, it quietly packed its bags and left for this summer. I guess they were concerned that being wedged between BARBIE and MUTANT MAYHEM wasn't exactly the best idea...

So, it tried to arrive - unnoticed - nearly a month after DESPICABLE ME 4. Both DM4 and INSIDE OUT 2 charted higher at the weekend box office than CRAYON, which only took in $6m stateside. It's another "animation director goes live-action" endeavor that ended rather poorly. Andrew Stanton and JOHN CARTER OF MARS, Brenda Chapman and COME AWAY, even Brad Bird with TOMORROWLAND. Saldanha now has a picture called 100 DAYS lined up, an effort the Brazilian director is pursuing in his home country, so that's good for him.

It's also another largely live-action family/kids movie - not made by Disney - that didn't add up. They just become rarer and rarer by the year, it seems. I remember when those kinds of movies were everywhere. All your STUART LITTLEs and BABEs and LAST MIMZYs, off the top of my head. I think around the late aughts/early tens, they started to slowly go away, many of them just came up short most of the time. If they do exist, and aren't part of a movie franchise (like, say, WONKA and the SONIC movies), I feel they go to Netflix or whatever. There was IF this year, but that didn't make back its budget despite strong audience response/great WOM. So they still kinda exist?

Anyways, the summer belongs to emotions and gibbering tictacs on the family end of things... Though I saw quite a few parents taking their 4-7yos into DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE, and hey, some of today's kids probably see and hear worse elsewhere lol. I recall being allowed, weirdly, to watch SOUTH PARK circa 1999 when I was in 2nd grade but certain levels of violence were off-limits. I don't think my folks would've taken me to see an R-rated Deadpool/X-Men movie in 1999, haha.

So that probably ends the summer seasons, animation box office-wise. I know the autumnal equinox technically begins two days after TRANSFORMERS ONE opens, but I peg the beginning of it there. Bring on the robots!

[croik]

some rambling about TMA

So the first time I listened to TMA, it was as Season 4 was airing, and I stopped after the season was done. Since the sequel’s been announced, I decided to go back to relisten and finally finish, which I did! And overall, I’m really glad I did, because I enjoyed Season 5 and the finale a lot! There’s still so much to love about TMA as a whole, from the acting to the sound design to the statements etc etc. If anyone wants to chat about it hit me up! But in the meantime I’m gonna do the thing where I rate the seasons and chat about them a little.

For me, the seasons from best to worst are 2, 1, 5, 3, 4

Season 2 is just so good. It’s in that good sweet spot where the over arching plot has showed its head but is still mostly mystery. The statements are starting to include repeat characters and call backs. Jon is completely unhinged. I just love getting to the end of a statement and then hearing the extra click, followed by his very furtive “Supplemental.” Even when he doesn’t have much to add, I always look forward to it. Plus this is when we get to hear Gertrude Robinson, the best character!!! Gosh I love Gertrude so much. What a fascinating and bad ass character. Sorry Johnny but your mom is sexy.

Season 1 is of course the OG. I remember not being entirely sold at first because I’m not huge on anthologies, but they sprinkled just enough of the A plot in through the early eps to be really compelling. The first time Jon’s recording got interrupted (by Elias?) was such a good drop and I really looked forward to those moments in the "real world". The season finale could have benefitted from the better sound work of later in the show, but, yeah, of course, right? The first season statements are still some of the most memorable and set up so many intriguing characters and storylines, even if not all of them paid off perfectly.

Season 5 I’m coming to way after the fact, so I’d heard a few things about it going in. I’ll admit my expectations were low. Happily, I enjoyed it a lot! The acting has only gotten better, same with the sfx, and I was a little surprised by how much I liked listening to Jon and Martin just talk about the world. They have a lot of interesting morality and character debates, and the final reveals around Annabelle, the Eye, etc, were very satisfying. I would rate it higher than season 1 except for the very large issue that I just did not enjoy the statements.

I mean, the show has so many statements over the 200 eps, they of course range from legit chilling to kinda lame, but in earlier seasons, a big part of the horror for me came from the disruption of the subject’s lives. We’d get a little setup, and then some poor shmuck had everything taken from them, and either survived traumatized or just plain didn’t make it. Sometimes you’d get a villain point of view! But in season 5, all the statements just bled together for me. There weren’t characters with lives anymore, just snapshots taken in the middle of a never ending horror, with very little context and no conclusion. But even worse, Jon and Martin talk about and treat the statements like an inconvenience. “What, another one?” Martin groans, and Jon apologizes, and they both sigh and go through the chore of giving us the show’s content. It’s a real bummer for me, and I wish they would have treated the statements with more reverence or importance, if they had to exist at all.

Season 3 is a mixed bag for me. On the one hand I like seeing the lore fleshed out. Jon slowly gaining powers is very fun and he gets to meet some really fun side characters (POOR GERRY!) but also some irritating ones (I’m one of those that really couldn’t stand Nikola’s voice). But season 3 also set up a few things I didn’t care for that got cranked up to 11 in season 4: the “I could tell you, but I won’t” play from the villains, and the complete lack of compassion that Jon receives once he starts gaining his powers.

Yes, there’s plenty of reason for Elias to act like he did. But “I’m going to withhold information for literally no reason at all” is something I really hate, and his explanation for it after the fact doesn’t soothe my annoyance with it during relisten. It is just so frustrating, and not in a way that feels like “yes I like hating this antagonist” but in a “the plot demands he doesn’t share too much” way. Then there’s Jon, which brings me to season 4.

Season 4 is the only one that I have to admit I actively disliked. I wanted to listen again because I didn’t remember much from it, and wanted to come into 5 fresh – only to realize that not much happens in 4? The entire season is either A) someone complaining that they don’t know what to do next, or B) someone complaining that they can’t talk to the other characters. If there’s anything more annoying (IMO) than characters refusing to share info for no reason, it’s for the reason of “I’m keeping you safe.” Then there’s Jon. Not to excuse some of his shittier choices, but there were times it was very frustrating bordering on unfair that he took so much of the angst and blame of the other characters. He spends several entire seasons talking about how hard he’s trying to keep hold of his humanity, while gaining almost no sympathy from anyone – just their suspicion and scorn when he falls short. Even Martin (in season 5 mostly) jabs all the time about how spooky and weird he’s become. And he is spooky and weird, but there are so few points in the show where Jon receives honest, unconditional sympathy, and I feel so bad for him. He’s trying really hard! I just want to give him a blanket and some soup, and tell him he did his best.

The bright spot of season 4 though was Jon and Daisy, for sure. I really enjoyed that unexpected friendship, and I felt for Jon in season 5, and his disappointment when they were reunited.

And that’s it, I guess!? TMA is still one of the best horror podcasts around, and I am looking forward to TMP, even if the prospect of more multiverse has me a little wary. If you read all this I hope to see you around fandom <3

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

The Sorta-Kinda Thomas Creepypasta I Had In My Head at Age 6

Weird-ass story from childhood time...

Growing up, I was like obsessed... Almost religiously, with THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE. A whole franchise which of course needs no introduction.

Like most American kids growing up in the 1990s, I first caught that blue locomotive and his pals on a PBS show called SHINING TIME STATION. It was a live-action show about some kids visiting their local train station, and the 4 1/2-minute THOMAS episodes would be a show-within-that-show. Usually the episode would relate to what was going on in the train station. The tales were told by a little man named Mr. Conductor, portrayed by the series' first UK narrator Ringo Starr in the first season, and then later by comedian George Carlin.

I have memories of watching that show with my paternal grandfather, when I was about... 3? I remember observing "The trains have faces... But they don't have cowcatchers." My grandfather and I would often draw train locomotives together, too. He'd teach me about the little minute details and such. Right down to the spokes on the wheels. That's part of why I'm an artist.

Anyways, let's jump ahead a little... I was 5, I hadn't seen that show in a while. Maybe because of scheduling, maybe I just wasn't watching that channel back then. Maybe I was watching VHS tapes more than watching TV...

One day, in the summer of 1998, I was given a VHS tape of a few of the THOMAS episodes on their own. SHINING TIME STATION episodes were barely released on home media, only the individual Thomas stories, and tapes were usually random grab-bags of episodes from the show's first 3-4 seasons. That first tape I got consisted of seven episodes, all in UK airing order no less, from season one. It was "James Learns a Lesson and Other Stories".

Now at that age, I had remembered watching the "trains with faces but no cowcatchers" show with my grandfather. I also still had my ERTL die-cast toy of Edward with two coaches that I sometimes played with... So I was like "Sure, I remember Thomas. I'll watch this."

That's where it all went downhill, lol.

And by my birthday and Christmas of that year, I was getting all these VHSes of the show and toys and such. I fit the cliche of autistic kid who was **addicted** to Thomas, add in that I used to identify as male. So yeah, the autistic Thomas boy stereotype through and through right here.

For my birthday that year, one of the VHS tapes I got was "A Big Day for Thomas and Other Stories". It was a compilation of Season 1 episodes, all narrated by George Carlin. Carlin would re-narrate all of the Season 1 and 2 episodes previously done by Ringo...

This was a weird tape, to say the least. It was rather short, and it had some episodes out of order. For example, the episode 'Thomas Breaks the Rules' ('Thomas in Trouble' in the UK) was the 2nd episode on the tape... But the episode that directly proceeds it, 'Toby the Tram Engine' ('Toby and the Stout Gentleman' in the UK) was at the *end* of the tape. Like, that story goes right into the 'Breaks the Rules' story. That's how the continuity was in the early series, as it closely followed the original books - THE RAILWAY SERIES. So it was weirdly out of order. Like watching AVENGERS: ENDGAME first, and then a few movies later, watching AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR.

Second... On old Thomas VHSes, each episode had a small intermission before and after. A sequence of the characters, and white boards in front of them with their names on them. Thomas fans often call these the "Nameboard" sequences. They'd be a few seconds long, with the Thomas theme playing over them. They'd end with an image of Sir Topham Hatt/The Fat Controller, with the text "Next Story Coming Up Soon!"

Usually that screen was silent, or had the last bars of the Thomas theme playing over it...

But for some reason, on the "Big Day for Thomas" VHS... There was the sound of a whistle at the end of the nameboard sequence leading up to the episode 'Trouble for Thomas' ('Thomas and the Trucks' in the UK). Not any of the characters' whistles, but a more realistic sounding one...

Now, as a weird kid who was *easily* thrown off by things... 6-year-old me in 1998 was freeeeaked out by this. Like, why was that weird-sounding whistle there? Why this ONE tape and not all my other ones? Who's was it? Was this some... Secret character?

I was aware of characters I hadn't seen in episodes before... Maybe it was one of them? When I looked at the ERTL die-cast models in the catalogues, I would scope out some characters... For some reason, I thought that whistle would belong to one of the narrow-gauge engine characters. Like Skarloey or Rheneas or Duncan or Duke... For some reason, that's what I thought back then. They looked like engines that would have that whistle, to me!

Now comes something different...

At my maternal grandparents' house, this book was in a drawer in the guest room, among other books:

(image above is from an etsy listing. credit where credit is due.)

I'm assuming it belonged to one of my cousins, who used to stay there a lot when he was really young... And like any kid, I looked through whatever picture book there was. Looking at this book today, I will say that I find a lot of Greg Hildebrandt's illustrations to be very pretty.

Also, it's kinda weird that I'm talking about Christmas in freakin' March, but here we are...

Anyways...

There was one illustration in that book that didn't quite sit right with me when I was little:

It had to have been those dead eyes, lol. How wide open they were, a black dot in a white circle, but on a wooden head and not a cartoon character...

The more I thought of it back then, the more it seemed like a Thomas character face... Albeit, a cursed one!

And I started conjuring up, in my mind, a secret Thomas character who had that off-sounding whistle heard on that *one VHS* volume. He had a face like that, and was darker-looking in his livery than the other engines. It's as if I was making my own Thomas creepypasta in my head, at age 6!! I don't recall drawing this engine though, he could've been an early OC for me!

Eventually, I'd find out that none of the engines had that whistle in the show... And that SHINING TIME STATION would return to TV in time for the release of the movie, THOMAS AND THE MAGIC RAILROAD. Some two years after I started getting into this show...

The whistle was from the show's George Carlin seasons. When he'd blow the whistle, it would go to the Thomas story. The same way Ringo Starr did in the show's first season, but his whistle had a different, higher-pitched noise. I had the SHINING TIME STATION Christmas episode on VHS, and that was with Ringo. So, back then, I didn't know that that whistle originated from SHINING TIME STATION.

But still, it was kinda cool that I was imagining this whole other Thomas character. A sorta more sinister and foreboding engine. Almost like a Sonic-dot-exe situation, that I thought up because I didn't like the sound of a random whistle that was nowhere to be heard in the show, that somehow got onto one part of a VHS volume I had, likely due to an editing error or something.

Some shadowy, creepy Nutcracker doll-faced engine lurking within the darker recesses of the show. Maybe if the tape deteriorated enough, you'd catch a glimpse of him amidst the fuzz... I imagined his nameboard, surrounded by thick dark grey smoke. For some reason, a name sounding like "Mico" coming up. Not at all the raccoon from Disney's POCAHONTAS, although "Nico" would be a good villain name for a cursed Thomas character.

And then the engine himself... just peering at me with those beady eyes as the shadowy smoke obscured just about everything else, during the night. It was like a gritty industrial setting more so than the roundhouse sheds...

The "Early Reel of 1983" ain't got nothin' on this one!

[adultswim2021]

Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job #39: “Tennis” | April 13, 2009 - 12:30AM | S04E10

The final 4:3 episode of Awesome Show! This is maybe one of the weaker episodes of the season, which is quite a shame. Shoulda ended the season on Cinco Bros, my men. 

Spagett shills for Cigarette Juice, which features all the nicotine buzz you crave in the form of a canned beverage. It’s also got what appear ot be flecks of tobacco in it. This is one of those bits they do where the gross visuals do the heavy lifting, but I genuinely find this one pretty effective. “GOOD NEWS: CIGARETTE JUICE” is the jingle, and it actually is very catchy. It’s a weirdly believable slogan.

I also like the bit where Spagett is on the phone complaining to a manager or somebody that they refuse to give him a towel after dumping juice all over him. Him being an occasional cigar-user is fun, I love that for him. SPECIAL NOTE: one can hear a snippet of Children of the Sun by Robert Lueben, used memorably in the video of Tim & Eric playing with their pets from Nite Live.

Another sketch features Glen Tennis, making the title of the episode a double entendre. What a treat. I like this one too. Glen Tennis’s movie stars Grum, as seen in the Anniversary episode. He made a computer animated movie about the first Thanksgiving that is only slightly more inaccurate than what American schools teach kids. Grum mistaking the natives for “clowns” is hilarious, and the shot of him menacingly eating maize is very funny/memorable. I also appreciate the bit about the proprietary video system required to view the movie. It’s a good one!

There’s a sketch in here where two divorced-looking men sloppily eat wings and then it becomes a music video where Tim sings a sorrowful song about how he misses his wife. I don’t think this one’s bad, but it just misses the mark for me. A noble effort, I guess. I vaguely remember when press for season three was underway, one of the articles used a photo from this shoot. Tim and Eric episodes are like Guided by Voices albums, where sometimes a song recorded years prior makes its way onto the track listing. I don’t hate it, just don’t like it that much. 

The rest of the episode is dedicated to the wraparound: Tim and Eric are in a million-dollar Tennis match with one another. Tim can’t even serve the ball and loses point after point, so Eric offers to call it off. Tim refuses, and then miraculously starts to pull it out. At the last minute, he fucks up big time. Eric wins, and he’s a poor sportsman. Not only does he gloat about besting his friend, he also smacks him in the head with his racket, twice. 

This wraparound has some funny moments, but it’s kinda unfocused. I dislike them focusing on Tim’s double take when Eric mispronounces his own name. They should know better than to do that, come on. They do that kind of spoon-feeding “what-the?” style humor so infrequently that it sticks out the few times they do indulge. This is one of those times. There’s also a Mel Brooksian gag where they are very obviously replaced by doubles (Are these the Flight of the Concords guys? I think they might be?? They are supposedly in this and I'm guessing that's them).

This episode inexplicably features The Lonely Island boys and Fred Armisen, who just show up to root along at the sidelines of the Tennis court. The episode ends with David Liebe Hart clumsily delivering the line: “My best friend just got hit in the head by his best friend. Don’t you have any FEELINGS for him?”. Now that (a weird guy talking) I like.

MAIL BAG

GREAT stuff about the last Xavier episode we covered:

Ah damnesia vu! I also love this episode, in a lot of ways I kind of consider it the unofficial pilot episode to Off The Air just cause of how much DNA it shares with it. Weird, trippy, sometimes scary clips, all in different styles strung together seamlessly into one thing through video editing, starting on a cold open of some random video that gets bookended at the end of the episode which plays a moving song over the credits. I'm sure I'm describing it horribly but that's the gist of it.

This makes sense to me! I respect it!

I do have a lot of trivia on it, though: they made a page for the contest which was released on the adult swim website, and as part of the contest they released some of the actual 3d models used in the show. It's on archive DOT org if you dig hard enough, having the actual files used in a show always kinda fascinated me, to my knowledge It's the only show I know of that did something like this officially without it being a leak or a 3 second flash file on some animator's website.

I was most curious about what the contest actually looked like on a practical level, but didn't even know how to begin to look for that stuff. I had no memory of the contest at all. I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention.

The first clip, by grant of "3GI", he ended up doing something kinda similar in 2018 with the movie Shrek: "Shrek Retold", a bunch of animators redid different scenes. David Libre Hart & Michael Cusack (2 [AS] people) are in it, It got like 10 million views and a bunch of articles written about it. youtube DOT com/watch?v=pM70TROZQsI

You know, I looked at his page and saw the Shrek Retold thing and didn't even give a thought to click on that stuff. I had no idea that was such a big thing.

You already covered shmorky so I'll just point out he did a few bumpers for Adult Swim (including this famous one youtube DOT com/watch?v=0oBx7Jg4m-o) and link this other video he did, it's one of the most unintentional bits of cringe comedy ever made (that's his real voice btw) youtube DOT com/watch?v=F-4jZzfoEz8

I vaguely knew about the "THIS IS FINE" connection at one point, but I forgot about that. holy moly, dark stuff in that second video. I'm writing this in haste but I can't wait to make myself feel weird by watching that entire thing. THAT VOICE! I NEVER KNEW

The video towards the end where Xavier eats his own fingers was done by Devin Flynn, who created "Y'all so stupid" for superdelxue and did misc. Shorts on Wonder Showzen and Off the Air. I think all the submissions are on the DVD in full (could be wrong about this). I found a reddit post talking about the contest that links to archived versions of the pages & models. (reddit DOT com/r/adultswim/comments/70brc8/xavier_renegade_angel_3d_models_rediscovered/?rdt=40391)

I sorta suspected that was Devin Flynn, hell yeah. I just checked and the DVD actually has submissions that DIDN'T get picked! I should watch them, probably, but I'm not gonna for this blog. I'm going to do it for fun and not tell anyone about it.

One final thing: on your post all the links after the first one link to the ketchup video lmao

I'm not going to check because you're obviously trolling me and they probably all work fine! How dare you.

But, also, thank you for your service, you did a better write-up than I did. YOU FUCKERS SOUND BETTER THAN ME TONIGHT

[takerfoxx]

Okay, okay, trying to catch up on some shit. So, let's put the whole High School DXD thing to bed, because analyzing and critiquing ecchi harem schlock that swings way above its weight class is weirdly fascinating to me!

So. Season 4.

Right, let's just address the elephant in the room. The new studio, and with it, the new art style.

...

Not really a fan.

Like, I know what happened, I know why there was a switch, I know they're trying to emulate the art style of the light novels more closely. I just liked the older style better, especially when it comes to the facial expressions. It used to be so vivid and detailed. Like, one look and you'd be able to tell immediately what a character is about and what they're feeling. Now, everyone just looks kinda stone.

I will say this though. Like the style switch in Pokemon, what we lose in detail we gain in fluidity. Those fight scenes were sick, especially when they dispensed with the artillery and went for hand to hand. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Okay, art style's different, don't really care for it, but I can adjust. How's the season itself?

Again, mostly a mixed bag, which I suppose comes with each season adapting two books each. You just tend to like one kind of story over the other, and here, I definitely preferred one arc over the other.

Like, the whole hunt for Kunou's mom was...fine, I guess. Kunou's cute and I don't object to her, though the cast is getting really crowded. And I did genuinely enjoy just watching the gang get to go on vacation and have fun together.

What I didn't like was who was behind it. I'm sorry, but so far, the Khaos Brigade just isn't working for me, mainly because they keep throwing all these new names at us. Like, okay, I know Cao Cao and the rest of the Hero faction go and become their own thing later, cool, but for now, it's another gaggle of stuff that we've seen before.

And I really didn't like how this was supposedly the challenge that caused Issei to fall into despair and almost give up. Like, really? Issei? After everything else he's vanquished? This is his darkest hour?

I totally buy him needing tits to activate his hidden strength and get back into the game, though. And, okay, I've complained in the past about big, climatic battles being derailed by some cool new character just dropping into the middle of things and solving the problem. But this time I'll let it slide, because we get the OG Monkey King himself, and he's kind of awesome.

The Boob Dragon thing is pretty funny for its ridiculousness, though really? This is considered wholesome children's entertainment in the demon realm? Okay.

Kinda bummed how similar the demon realm and its inhabitants are to normal humans. Like, evil it up! You're demons! Where's your demonic class?

Okay, so the first arc was kind of eh, but the second might very well be one of my favorites so far. For one, the rating games are one of my favorite aspects of the series so far, because I love tournaments and we get to see the other characters shine a little.

Also, Sairaorg, man. What a fucking chad. Dude gets born without powers, is disinherited by his asshole father, almost loses his mom to illness, but reforms himself into a massive physical powerhouse through sheer will and training alone. Plus, he respects the hell out of Issei in a "Game recognize Game" sort of way and wants punch it out with him. Respect.

The rating game was awesome. Yes, there was a bunch of new names again, but it worked better this time and they were able to shine through action. And I laughed my ass off when Issei foiled his opponent's attempt to seduce him because he was so offended at the violation of the proper way to do a strip tease. Man really takes his ecchi seriously.

Issei and Sairaorg just punching the shit out of each other was so goddamned anime. They keep getting more and more power ups, keep giving these heroic speeches, and you kind of want them both to win. In the end, Sairaorg still fighting on despite having passed out long ago through sheer determination alone? Magnificent.

Okay, I'm going to say it. I like Sairaorg as a rival way more than Vali.

Oh, sweet! Ravel's here! I like her. And she and Koneko are immediately petty toward one another, as it should be.

[butcherlarry]

I blame @januariat for this, because of her art stream of Selina Kyle last night.  I had Catwoman on the brain as I was watching birds come to my feeders this morning, and this came to me.

Head canon for Selina Kyle:  She has bird feeders and is somewhat into bird watching. 

Maybe at one of her apartments/penthouses/safehouses/whatever, there was a green space close by that attracted birds and she has a balcony.  She noticed her cats perking up and looking out the windows more because the birds would fly by more.  An idea forms, maybe she could get a bird feeder and bird seed to attract more birds to her place?  This could be a new way to entertain her beloved cats :)  So she does this, and her cats couldn't be any happier.  It becomes a common occurrence when she gets home to see all her cats lined up at the windows, staring intensely at the birds.  She even gets some cute videos of her cats chittering away at them.

A funny thing happens though, she starts to get more and more invested in the hobby.  What birds are coming to her feeders anyway?  What birds are even local in the area?  Are there any seasonal birds?  Can she attract different species to her feeders?  She soon has 5 different types of feeders and fills them with different types of bird seed.  

So many birds come by now!  House finches, chickadees, titmice, cedar waxwings, mourning doves, the list goes on and on!  Selina even considers getting one of those humming bird feeders, those little guys are kinda cute!

(She comes to dislike starlings though.  While they are pretty, they chase away the smaller birds, and go through a big bag of seed a week!  Selina had to change the seed feeders over to safflower seeds to get them to leave.)

At some point, Selina comes to the realization that this little spur of the moment idea has some how become a minor hobby.  She sees her cats happy and content, looking out the windows at the birds.  There are worse hobbies to have, and at least this one is legal.

(She also finds out from shopping at the the specialty store she gets her bird seed from that people who bird feed are also into attracting butterflies... and setting up bat boxes for bats.  Selina finds this last fact hilarious.  She sets up a bat box and puts Bruce’s name on it.  He’s not amused (well, maybe a little)). 

Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go back to watching birds come to my 4 bird feeders as I pet my cats (I don’t have a problem, you have a problem).

[dans-den]

The Mandalorian Season 3 Review

Hey what's going on everyone? Dan here and today I'll be reviewing The Mandalorian season 3 on this May the 4th be with you day!

Even though the season has ended weeks ago, I'll give spoiler warnings for those who do not have Disney Plus because these streaming services add up.

Now I love The Mandalorian, I've watched all three seasons and Star Wars content is the only reason I wanted Disney Plus in the first place. The Mandalorian is indeed Disney Plus's number 1 show and there is a reason for it. I enjoy the series greatly and in my opinion, season 2 is the best of the three. Season 3 I'd say is on par with season 1, it's rough in some areas, but overall still enjoyable story and entertaining to watch. I'll be going through what I liked and what I dislike about season 3.

One major complaint that I and several others have is that they intertwined the Mandalorian with the Book of Boba Fett show. They're doing what Marvel is known for and connecting everything in a universe but the issue here is that Book of Boba Fett happens between season 2 and 3, meaning that if you're new and trying to watch The Mandalorian then you're gonna be confused about what happened between seasons 2 and 3. A newcomer wouldn't know to go to Book of Boba Fett for context so it loses points off the bat just for doing that. Book of Boba Fett was decent imo, but everyone else doesn't find it entertaining and find it redeemable because of Mando so a newcomer would likely stay away from that show. It's not good when you have to intertwine two shows to get the full context of one or the other, it's inconvenient and just unnecessary to me unless it's meant to lead to a universe which if they plan to cool, if not, unnecessary.

Now with the Book of Boba Fett stuff aside, I do enjoy the continued story of Din Djarin and Grogu on their adventures, this time around we actually get to see them amongst the Mandalorian tribes and culture. I love the lore of Mandalorians and this is a great addition to the series and the lore. I especially like Bo Katan, I think of all her varients, this version of her is by far my favorite only matched by her Clone Wars version. Din Djarin played by Pedro Pascal is great and his character continues to get fleshed out with each season. Grogu, I can't say much because it's puppetry and effects and it's done well enough, it's adorable as well. I also like how we get the return of Moff Gideon as the Antagonist, is he finally gone? we'll see.

Now the episodes this season were a mixed bag. Don't get me wrong, most of Season 3 episodes are fun and action packed, but I'd say there were two episodes in the entire season that were just filler for the most part. Episode 3 was kinda boring to follow because it was literal filler about reformed villains because it barely served any connection to the plot. Episode 6 filler was Mando and Bo on a wild goose chase of a mystery finding defective droids for Lizzo and Jack Black (I love Jack Black but this is definitely one of his weaker roles) and the villain turned out to be Christopher Lloyd and makes it like we care but it felt so rushed and phoned in. These two episodes are definitely lackluster compared to the rest but at least the other episodes make up for these two so I won't hold it too hard against season 3.

I loved the last two episodes where the Mandalorians all band together to take back Mandalore from Moff Gideon and his Beskar Stormtroopers. It did Kill off one of the Mandalorian characters we came to know and respect but at least he went out in true Mandalorian fashion fighting till the end. Gideon got wrecked the third time around and Mandalore was taken back and Mando himself has settled on his land with Grogu as his new adopted son/apprentice where they're gonna go on many more adventures together. This makes me excited for a Season 4 and hopefully we will get a season 4. Though if we do get one, maybe if should be the last one but also the best one yet. Though this is Disney, so it is possible they will try to milk the Mandalorian until its dry but maybe I'm wrong there, who knows?

Overall, season 3 was pretty good and while I still think season 2 was better, season 3 still added to the lore and world of the Mandalorian culture. I would like a season 4 but we will see what happens in the not so distant future. Jon Favreau, you busted out another banger of a season here!

rating this season I'm giving it:

8/10

While I don't think it's the best season, I still think it's great and adds plenty to the story of Din Djarin. I would recommend this season just as much as 1 and 2 and you'll definitely need to watch the last few episodes of Book of Boba Fett to figure out what happens between seasons 2 and 3. Here's to hoping for a season 4 and make it the best and last one.

May the Fourth be with you all

See ya!