#so that if it does become too hard for me i can change that and that's a big comfort to me

[bam-stroker]

I got possessed by the opportunity for silly in @keferon's Texaid mech au and ended up with a slice of serious as well. Oh well, Bone Apple Teeth! - - - - -

Every muscle and joint in First Aid’s body aches. Flopped over the official break room lunch table, his face has been buried in his arms for at least twenty minutes. He’d taken one tired bite from a sad little sandwich at the start of his break, and now it’s just wilting beside him before he officially decides to just trash it. To be honest, he can’t find the energy to actually care. After months of cleaning up the messes left behind by that thing, lunch has become a “me time” escape for him as opposed to an actual meal. 

Well, to an extent. It can only be so much of a solo time with the cross over of employee lunch breaks. 

“You know, it’s not good to skip a meal when you work as hard as you do.” 

The sentiment is entirely sincere. Even face down, he can see the exact sad little face across from him. Those familiar blue eyes always twinkling with feeling. First Aid only grunts in acknowledgement. Why does Tailgate always have to be so… caring? He thinks to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of harsh laughter echoes at his thought. But it’s mechanical. As if that… machine is now a part of him. Haunting him. Or maybe it’s like a disease? But he can’t think of any illness where something like that can listen and watch to see the world through his eyes. Haunting it is then.

Whatever. He’ll take more time to care about that when he’s able to lift his head back up. Below his breath First Aid mutters, “I bet you like that, huh? Wearing me out. Must be so funny.” 

The voice in his head has nothing to say. 

First Aid huffs. Jerk.

Tailgate on the other hand, continues to pry. “So… Were you talking to him just then?”

Great. He’s saying shit out loud. Stellar! Amazing! This is going to do great things for his crumbling people skills. First Aid musters up that one sandwich bite’s worth of energy left in him to sit up. The popping of his joints should be concerning, but on the priorities list—stepping into a death trap daily as a new career—it’s hardly the top of it. 

“Look, Tailgate, I’m sorry. Yeah… I was talking to—” he starts to reply, and then cocks his head in confusion. “Wait, did you just say ‘him’?”

And there goes the old Tailgate big wet eyes shine. He nods his round little pale face, the short crop of his bleached white hair bouncing with the movement. “Well, yeah! Vortex is the one haunting it, right?” 

First Aid can’t help but sigh, slumping back into the uncomfortable break room chair. “Come on,” he replies. “Don’t tell me you’re another ghost believer?” 

He tries to keep the shake out of his voice. He tries to keep up the act, because if he admits it… if he admits it then it all becomes real.

Tailgate nods, giving a thoughtful hum as he eyes the sandwich waiting patiently to be eaten. “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand. But, it feels easier to talk about it like that,” he says. Looking back up to lock eyes with First Aid, there’s a weight behind his gaze. “You’re not the only one cleaning up the messes around here. So let me be a little superstitious to help me get through the job.”

With a heavy sigh, First Aid breaks the eye contact. It’s too much. 

He crosses his arms, staving off a shiver from the memory of the first time he ever cleaned up the mech. Of the look on Tailgate’s face, so scared, when he’d handed him the remnants. 

The janitor and the wannabe medic. What a sad sorry pair.

All First Aid can offer is a nod of his head in acknowledgement, before he changes the subject. “So yeah, I’ve been talking to…him. It’s about all I can do, since he’s the one, ugh, actually driving.” 

Tailgate gasps loudly, as he leans forward. “It’s like reverse Ratatouille!”

“What??” 

“He’s the rat, and you’re the chef.” Tailgate continues, an entirely too excited smile on his face. 

“No!”

“Yes!!” 

First Aid groans, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “Tailgate. Please. How is this anything like ratatouille?” He pleads.

Between the cracks of his fingers, he watches Tailgate gleefully lay out his vision. “Everybody thinks it’s you—but it’s really him driving. So you’re like the chef, but instead of being on the outside, you’re on the inside—that’s why it’s reverse—because the rat is in the hat driving the guy like some kind of chef mech suit in the movie. But the ghost mech is driving you. So you’re reverse ratatouille!”

There are no words. There’s absolutely nothing he can say in response to the nightmare of his new life being summed up as accurately as “reverse ratatouille”. 

With a weary sigh, First Aid leans forward on the table, staring down as if some other answer to what his life has become will appear like a magic eight ball in the scratched up countertop. 

No such luck. It’s the same table he’s looked at day after day. 

“Reverse Ratatouille…” First Aid murmurs. A haunted look in his eyes.

“Reverse Ratatouille.” Tailgate chimes back chipperly.

Far off in the haunted abyss of his mind, First Aid hears the crystal clear laughter of the mech at the revelation. 

Reverse Ratatouille.

[bunni-v1]

hi! congratulations on 500 followers! could you make the full nsfw alphabet list with Idia please? (sorry for the bad English)

🍓I POSTED!!! I've had this sitting in the drafts for a week and I finally decided to post it (YAY!!!). I've also got Jade's qued up for later today, and I'll be working on Azul and Floyds in my free time (when I get free time that is). Sorry I took so long to post, life has been tough on me and I just didn't have the tools to deal with it. I'll be back and posting irregularly until December when I can actually take time and write again.

Idia NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare: Idia Shroud is the WORST at aftercare, and I say this with so much love and kindness to the walking punching bag that calls himself a man. Genuinely though, sex overstimulates him so badly, so he cannot handle anything after the fact. He’s the kind to roll over off you (more like slide you off him) and fall asleep immediately. Of course, he mumbles out something about it feeling good and all that stuff, but 9 times out of 10 he’s out like a light.

B = Body part: He is a thigh man. He doesn’t care if it's thick and meaty, he just wants to rest his head on it. Maybe give it a nibble, if you’d let him of course (consent is key, even for a dirty Otaku like him). For him… he doesn’t like most things about himself, but if you seem to like something about him a lot, he grows to like it too. So if you like his hair, it’s probably his hair, if you like his lips or teeth it’s them. (What can I say, he’s weak for you).

C = Cum: SALTYYYYY! He doesn’t take care of himself what did you expect. It’s unpleasant to taste, and there’s A LOT of it to taste. It’s a pretty thick consistency and really sticky, fun to play with and watch dribble down your stomach and face. 

D = Dirty secret: He wants you to peg him. I wouldn’t say that’s much of a secret, but he thinks it is. 

E = Experience: NONE. Zip, zero, zilch. I make fun of Malleus for being a Virgin, but IDIA IS A VIRGIN. He’ll blush to hold your hand, it’s that bad. However, he does watch a LOT of Porn (Hentai specifically), so he has… an idea of what to do. He’s really nervous first time around, but once he gets comfortable with you he’s pretty good, just a little unrealistic in his expectations sometimes.

F = Favorite position: Doggy! Especially if you’re wearing cute little puppy or kitty ears! He likes watching the way your back arches, and he’s a big fan of pulling your hair or squeezing your hips. Other than that, he loves face-sitting. Surrounded by your thighs, oh that’s a good death for Idia Shroud.

G = Goofy: Initially, he is entirely on accident. He wants to be serious and cool about it, but he’s like a blushing schoolgirl and making a million mistakes. His line delivery is so… cringe and embarrassing you can’t help but laugh. It humiliates him, but eventually, he learns to just embrace it, and he becomes pretty goofy. He loves cracking jokes just to see you smile, cause the one thing he loves more than your thighs has to be your pretty little smile.

H = Hair: I know it’s blue flames too, I just know it. That shit is not tamed either. Like he trims, but honestly it’s hard to control something that's constantly shifting and changing. And, before you ask, yes it does flare up with his emotions like his hair does too. 

I = Intimacy: Depends… Idia isn’t someone I would ever describe as romantic, but he is a sweetie. He likes it hard and rough so it’s hard to say it’s very romantic, but he does like you close and he loves looking at you. You catch him smiling down at you like you’re some kind of goddess sometimes. You won’t catch him saying cheesy lines like how much he loves you or how pretty you are (cause it will actually kill him if he does).

J = Jack off: Mastrubating champ of NRC. He’s alone in his room 90% of the time with unlimited access to the internet and is also an Otaku. Sorry if you disagree, but you’re wrong. I know he gets off at least once a day, more if he has the time. 

K = Kink: Another biter, he just loves marking you up and sending you off with a pretty bruise for everyone to see. He’s a sadomasochist too, depending on whose topping. He wants you to push him around and hit him, make him feel helpless, it’s his favorite thing. Also into pet play, cosplay, roleplaying, and… any kind of play honestly. The weirder the better for him.

L = Location: His room and his room alone. Maybe yours, but he does not trust anyone in your dorm to respect your privacy. Besides, if he’s in his room he knows where everything is, and he can ensure no one will be getting in and seeing you that way.

M = Motivation: Most things, honestly. Be nice to him? He’s hard. Be mean to him? He’s hard. Beat him in his favorite game and act all smug (he let you win)? He’s hard. Lose and pout about it? He’s hard. He’s a sensitive guy, okay, and he thinks everything you do is super hot. Not his fault.

N = No: Share or let someone watch. Absolute nos from him. The idea of sharing you with someone and you like them more? Hah, he’d kill himself. He’s also not a fan of anyone seeing either of you in such a compromising position. He’s too nervous and possessive to let that out of the privacy of his room. Also, this might be controversial, but I can’t see him being into any kind of sibling shit. Too weird for him, he’d never want to think of his precious little brother like that, so why would he want to think of you like that?

O = Oral: He prefers receiving because watching the way you tease him with your sultry gaze as he sinks impossibly further down your throat is… heavenly. Though he isn’t bad at giving either. His tongue is long and boy can that thing move, it can reach places you didn’t even know were possible. Plus his teeth nipping at your most sensitive areas? Praise the seven, that’s good shit.

P = Pace: Fast and rough. He likes to just go at it, and he doesn’t like to stop for anything. Prepare to be pounded into next week with no stops!

Q = Quickie: He likes them, and they’re pretty common, but they’re not his favorite. When he has sex, he likes going for more than one round, and the whole point of quickies is that they’re quick so he doesn’t prefer them.

R = Risk: Yeah, he’s game to try some more risky things, but he’ll back out so fast if he’s uncomfortable for even a second. There are some things he wouldn’t consider, like bringing it out of his room. He’s a big fan of risky texts though. Like, a video of you fucking yourself in the bathroom while he’s in a meeting with the other housewardens? No one’s gonna know if he takes care of himself quickly. 

S = Stamina: He goes for multiple fast and quick rounds. He can usually do about four of them before he’s done for the night, but he’s willing to keep going if he doesn’t satisfy your needs along with his (sometimes).

T = Toys: He has a collection, actually, of really wild shit. Tentacles, ‘alien’ dicks, and even the infamous horse cock. He likes to put a bullet in you and control it from his room, watching you struggle to talk to your friends on the cameras he’s definitely allowed to have access to. 

U = Unfair: He likes to tease, but he forgets to sometimes lol. He gets so caught up in his own pleasure that, occasionally, he’ll just forget he wanted to tease you and make you all sensitive and whiny. He also likes to be teased, so please feel free to torture him when you’re topping <3

V = Volume: He tries very hard to be quiet, but bless his soul he is not. He’s so whiny and whimpery and pathetic, it’s very cute. He wants you to make as much noise as possible so that he can hide his shame, but he’ll still cry into your ear since he can’t contain himself.

W = Wild card: He sometimes prints out the pictures you send to him (with permission) and keeps them in his desk. There’s no real reason why, because he has all of them digitally, but something about having physical pictures is more thrilling to him.

X = X-ray: Hehehe, oh Idia. It is long and it is thick, bless his dad’s genetics. I’m talking like almost seven inches big, like… he’s big. It’s veiny, with one really prominent one on the top that runs from the base to just below his tip. Which, by the way, is blue like his lips. 

Y = Yearning: High, if that wasn’t made obvious before. He craves sex a lot, and it only seems to get worse after he gets with you. You’re just so pretty and perfect he can’t help it <3Z = Zzz: I said it at the start, but it’s near immediate. He gets tired easily after all that physical exertion, he just wants to nap and cuddle, you can clean up in the morning. Let him hold you :(

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 18

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17

Steve doesn’t see much of Eddie for the next few weeks. Presumably there are still Dungeons and Dragons sessions and band practices, but Steve and Chrissy are no longer invited. Jeff flits back and forth between their two groups like a child of divorce, and Steve? He just misses Eddie.

Eddie, who even once Steve slinks back to his usual seat in the cafeteria for lunch, no longer gives his table top rants. He doesn’t say anything at all, not where Steve might overhear him. But he still has Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and that’s enough.

In his free time, he writes aimless letters destined to never be read.

Steve’s moving on—getting over it is a process, or so he tells Chrissy. He never shows her the letters, can’t bear to see the pity on her face. He doesn’t talk about it with Robin again either–just hides his notebook away and gets on with his life.

Eddie’s just a boy, and it’s just a crush. Steve can move on, he always does. He tells Eddie as much in a letter he’ll never read.

Everything changes when he opens his locker and something drops out. It’s a bright yellow envelope, sloppy sunflowers drawn on the sides with black pen, and there, dead center, is his name written in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere, is his name. Not Secret Admirer, not even Harrington, just Steve.

He shoves it into his backpack before Robin can close her own locker and notice.

It stays hidden there for the rest of the day as Steve’s heartbeat rabbits away in his chest, and his palms itch with sweat. He doesn’t open it that night either, too afraid of what he might find in it. It’s like that one story Robin had told him, where the guy goes crazy after burying someone under the floorboards or something? It’s calling to him, no matter how hard he plugs his ears.

Steve doesn’t get much sleep that night.

He still hasn’t opened it by school the next day. Might not ever have opened it if he hadn’t glanced toward Eddie during lunch and caught his eye. Eddie’s staring, gaze intense even with all the distance between them. But then, the weirdest thing happens—Eddie smiles just a little, and finger waves at him, like they’re friends.

Steve just stares, gobsmacked until Eddie’s entire face starts to turn a splotchy red and he looks down at his lunch table as if embarrassed.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks, looking behind her at whatever had caught Steve’s eye.

“I have to go,” Steve blurts, rushing out of the cafeteria before she can ask anymore questions.

His and Chrissy’s usual abandoned classroom has a teacher in it, so he ends up in his and Robin’s bathroom stall, this time alone. Still, he sits on the ground, leaving enough room for the ghost of Robin to have a seat, too.

He opens his backpack, zeroing in on the envelope instantly—as if he’d ever, for a second forgotten about it—and finally pulls it out.

He traces the sunflowers on the paper, memorizing the grooves Eddie’s pen had made before finally turning it over and sliding his fingers beneath the seal to tear it open.

The paper’s thicker than he’s used to getting from Eddie, and it’s that same, bright yellow that doesn’t fit Eddie’s aesthetic at all. But it fits Steve’s, and that’s the thought that finally gets him to bring the letter closer to his face and begin to read. 

   Steve,

   I wanted to start this out by saying that I’m sorry—it’s a phrase I’m becoming alarmingly used to saying in recent weeks. To Jeff, to Gareth, and now to you. No matter how surprised I was, I had no right to say all that shit to you. And for that, I’m sorry, okay? Really, truly sorry.

   As Chrissy and Jeff pointed out once you’d left, I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for that. And as my uncle told me when he was doing his disappointed parent shtick, I might have been projecting, just a tad.

   Eddie Munson might be gay—who knew?

   So, I’ll hope you accept my sincerest apologies for how I’ve handled this whole thing, Steve. I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Well, I can now, a bit. And it’s scary, right? But, I think it’s my turn to be brave. If I haven’t already ruined any chance I might have had, maybe we can go on a date?

   I’ll pick you up this Friday at your house, say around seven? If you don’t answer the door, I’ll understand. That’ll be my answer.

   But I really, really, really hope you do.

   Yours, always, hopefully,

   Eddie

Steve stares down at it, flummoxed. He reads it again, and again, and again. When the words on the page don’t change, he slips it delicately into the envelope, and goes to his next class, mind swirling away with the clouds.

“Can I drive you home?” Steve asks Jeff before he can climb into Chrissy’s car.

“Uh, sure?” Jeff replies just as Chrissy cuts in with a near-frantic, “are you okay?”

Steve smiles tightly at her and says, “I’ll call you tonight, okay? I just need to talk to Jeff.”

She bites her lip, looking even more worried than before, but all she says is, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Jeff and Chrissy trade an indecipherable look and then Jeff dutifully follows Steve to his car and climbs in. Before he starts the engine, he pulls the envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Jeff.

“What’s this?” Jeff asks.

“Read it,” Steve replies, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot so he doesn’t have to see whatever expression crosses Jeff’s face as he reads.

It’s silent for a few minutes aside from The Clash filtering quietly tinnily from the radio, but then Jeff says, “so, he finally did it.”

Steve’s fingers clench on the steering wheel at the vague answer to the question he hasn’t yet asked. “Is it some sort of joke?” Steve grits out, still unable to look at Jeff’s face.

“No, man,” Jeff replies, doing that same shoulder clasp thing he’d done last time he’d been in Steve’s car while he was upset. “He’s just been working through some stuff.”

“So he’s…” he finally shifts his gaze toward Jeff, hoping to convey his question without having to say it aloud.

“Seems so,” Jeff replies.

And Steve shudders, all those same feelings he’d been working so hard to suppress bubbling back to the surface, the most dangerous of all being hope.

“Are you going to go?” Jeff asks, voice even enough not to show his opinion on the decision one way or another.

Steve swallows, throat dry. “I don’t know.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive, and when he calls Chrissy later that night, she asks the same thing.

“Are you going to go?” she asks breathlessly, like she’s hanging on his every word.

Steve sighs. “He said he might be gay, Chris. What if we go out and he’s wrong?”

Left unmentioned is the niggling voice in the back of his head still insisting that the whole thing is some sort of cruel prank to get back at him. He’d lied, and strung him along, and gotten him hurt. No matter how many times Eddie apologizes, Steve knows he’s not really the one that should be.

“What if he’s right?” she asks.

Steve knows, deep down in his bones, that he’s going to go, just at the chance that Chrissy’s right, that Eddie’s right, that Jeff’s right. Steve desperately wants to be wrong. 

***

Steve doesn’t show any outward appearance of having received the letter. Eddie watches, obsessively trying to catch even the barest hint of what he thinks of the note– if, when he knocks on the Harrington’s front door, he’ll open it.

He keeps looking, and looking, and finally, blessedly, when Eddie looks, Steve’s looking back. Their eyes lock, and such a wave of relief courses through Eddie that he, like a fucking idiot, waves at him. Steve stares, mouth open, and does absolutely nothing back.

Eddie looks down at the table, whole body aflame with mortification, hair dangling messily into Doug’s mashed potatoes.

“Dude,” Doug says, shoving Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him away from his precious lunch.

“You good?” Jeff asks, leaning across the table to poke at Eddie’s bowed head like it’s potentially diseased roadkill he found on the side of the street.

“He hates me!” Eddie whines, turning his head just enough to glance towards Steve’s table, spitting a chunk of hair out of his mouth.

Steve’s not there at all anymore.

“Harrington?” Gareth questions around the bite of apple lodged in his throat. “Aren’t you trying to steal his girlfriend?”

“Of course no—not anymore!” Eddie stutters, turning his head the other direction to glare at Gareth instead.

For his part, Gareth just looks down at him, supremely unimpressed. “Uh huh,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet even when very obviously fed up. “Is this more secret bullshit you’re refusing to tell me?”

“It’s not my secret!” Eddie hisses, finally removing his head from the table so he can crouch on it instead, leaning over Gareth like a gargoyle. “And I promised!”

“Bet you told Wayne,” Gareth mutters.

“Oh my god, I told Wayne!” Eddie cries, dropping off the bench entirely to crawl under the table where he belongs. It’s not like there’s anyone in the room right now that he wants to impress—he already scared Harrington off.

“Dude,” is all Jeff says, peering under the table to look down at him judgmentally. “Chrissy is going to kill you.”

Eddie clutches his hair hard enough that it hurts. “It’s Wayne! He doesn’t count,” Eddie whines, “does he?”

Jeff snorts, kicking his foot out until the toe of his sneaker connects softly with Eddie’s kneecap. “He doesn’t count,” he starts, continuing before Eddie’s even slumped with relief, “to you.”

When Eddie slinks out from beneath the table, Steve’s spot is still empty, and Chrissy’s sitting there, glaring across the cafeteria at Eddie like she can just sense that he didn’t keep his vow of secrecy.

God, girls are scary.

He avoids looking in her direction the rest of lunch, picking at his own potatoes and mushy peas just for something to do.

Steve’s not going to open the door—he knows that. But, even still, he wakes up early on Friday morning to sneak into Mrs. Johnson’s yard to carefully cut a few of her sunflowers, ducking low enough that the bushes in front of her windows will obscure him.

When he’s done, he’s got five perfect sunflowers, tied together with the brown shoelace he’d stolen from a pair of Wayne’s old boots.

He leaves them in the kitchen, awkwardly propped into a bowl full of water since the Munson’s aren’t the kind of family to own a vase, or even a tall enough glass, apparently.

By the time Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift, Eddie’s elbow-deep in a trash bag in the back of his van. Wayne peers through the propped-open doors, eyebrows already raised as Eddie freezes, hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

“What’re ya doing, boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie stares, brain full of ants and TV static as he fumbles for an answer. What comes out of his mouth is “I asked Steve out!”

Wayne’s lips quirk up, and he’s smirking at Eddie as if to say, see? told ya, the smug bastard. But all he says is, “is that so?” drawling and easy like he’s not acting all-knowing and superior.

Eddie groans and takes his hand out of the garbage bag to run it through his hair and pull. “Or I left him a note?” he says, gut churning as Wayne’s face drops to his more customary frown. “Oh my god, he’s not going to show!”

“Then why’re you cleaning your van out?”

Eddie puffs up, glaring back at Wayne now. “Well I’m going to show up, Wayne!” he replies, voice shrill. “I’m a man of my word.”

Wayne snorts when Eddie calls himself a man, just like he always does, but his lips are quirked up again, looking almost proud as he replies, “good man,” with only a slightly mocking intonation. “Want some help?”

They get all the trash out in a matter of minutes. When it becomes clear that the vacuum cleaner can’t reach no matter how close they park the van, Wayne comes back out with the broom from the kitchen and they sweep as much debris as they can from inside before Eddie steals the comforter from his own bed and lays it across the back carpet, masking the weird stains.

Wayne finishes it off with a spritz of his own rarely-used cologne, covering up any remaining funky smells. Even so, Eddie elects to leave the windows rolled down to air it out for as long as possible.

When Wayne notices his commandeered shoelace around the sunflowers, he doesn’t say a thing.

Then, he’s forced to go to school, wiling away the hours until he’s standing in front of the Harrington’s front door, boots shined for the first time in his life, sunflowers clutched in shaking hands, van parked neatly behind him, hair brushed into submission. He’d even used his fancy conditioner, thoughts of that half-remembered first letter waxing poetic about his hair fueling his action. 

All for a boy who won’t answer the door.

But, Eddie’s a man of his word, so he knocks.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He waits such a long time that he jumps when the door opens, breath catching as he looks at Steve Harrington, face-to-face for the first time since that disastrous day in his living room. His mostly-healed eye aches with remembered pain, his ribs cold with the absence of Steve’s hands.

He’s missed looking at him.

Steve’s in light-wash jeans, hair perfectly coiffed, wearing a green sweater that makes the gold in his eyes pop, even in the dim light from the Harrington’s porch light. He looks good, put together enough for a first date, casual enough to just be his everyday clothes.

Eddie’s heartbeat flickers with something that feels alarmingly like hope.

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says, finally breaking the awkward silence.

He smiles, trying to be charming, but he’s never done this before, doesn’t know how to contort his face. He holds out the sunflowers, arm awkwardly extending, hoping desperately that his offering will be accepted.

Steve stares down at them, hand still clutching the door like he’s one second away from slamming it closed in Eddie’s face. Eddie holds his breath, heartbeat ratcheting up from the oxygen deprivation.

Steve reaches out, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he tries to take the flowers from him. Eddie’s fingers stay clenched around the stems for a second too long, hand following the flowers trajectory toward Steve’s own chest until Eddie forces his hand open and lets it drop uncomfortably back to his side.

Steve stares down at them, leaning down to take a sniff. Eddie winces—they don’t smell like much, just dirt and nebulous green things. But Steve smiles, just a tiny, little thing that hits Eddie’s body like electroshock therapy.

“Thank you.” Steve says quietly, not looking away from the sunflowers as he asks, “come inside while I put them in some water?”

Steve swings the door open wider, and Eddie slides past him and into the Harrington’s house. As Steve wanders further inside, Eddie stands in the entrance—foyer?—feeling remarkably out of place. Even from here, he can see enough negative space to house twenty-odd people, a vaulted ceiling, and is that a chandelier? Eddie doesn’t step a toe off the mat beneath his feet, afraid his very presence will stain the perfect white interior.

He shouldn’t be here. Places like this aren’t for the Munson’s of the world. They’re for royalty, kings and queens, and all the upper crust that spits down on the rest of them. But when Steve comes back, sans sunflowers, he’s smiling just a little, tromping his own shoes over the white carpet like he doesn’t give a shit.

Maybe he doesn’t belong here either. Maybe it’s possible to carve out a space for him in the Munson’s shitty trailer, however small.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, still smiling just this side of awkward. “What’re we doing?”

As Eddie holds Steve Harrington’s own front door open for him to step through, Eddie’s mind’s buzzing with maybes.

***

Eddie’s van smells like mothballs and cologne, and the radio’s quietly playing the sort of generic pop music Steve usually mumbles along to on his way to school. But, Eddie’s fingers are twitching against the wheel, and he hasn’t said a word since they’d climbed in, so Steve sits on his own hands and keeps his mouth shut.

The longer the silence drags on, the more Steve regrets ever opening the door at all. Eddie pulls into Hawkins’ drive-in, and buys their tickets and two bags of popcorn. Steve’s hand clenches in his lap, Eddie’s words to Chrissy all that time ago running through his head—we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time.

“I hope this is okay?” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence as he spins the dial to the correct channel to catch the movie. “I wasn’t sure if you liked horror, but this is all that’s playing this weekend, and I’ve been wanting to watch it so—”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and it is.

He’s never been much for horror beyond putting it on for dates so he has a built-in excuse to reach out. But, he’s not squeamish, and maybe those same thoughts are running through Eddie’s head: an excuse to reach out and touch.

But, as the title card flashes SLEEPAWAY CAMP in big, boxy font, all Eddie does is reach into his popcorn bag and stuff a handful into his mouth. Steve follows suit, the buttery kernels turning to ash on his tongue.

He watches with little enthusiasm as the stupid teenagers on screen fool around and get torn apart. Eddie makes little comments throughout the movie, but there’s nothing Steve can grasp onto.

What does one say to, “whoa, blood fountain,” or “god, that kid’s a douche,” or, “they should’ve killed him sooner.”

Steve still tries, humming and nodding along and verbalizing his own agreements. Eddie never responds, just keeps stuffing his mouth with popcorn until the bag’s empty. Steve stares down at his own mostly-full bag and wonders if the separate bags were just to make sure they didn’t accidentally brush hands. 

He hands his own popcorn over, and Eddie grabs it twitchily, muttering a “thanks, dude,” without really looking at Steve at all.

Steve just wants to go home, crawl into his own bed, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

But he just sits there, silent as the movie plays on. He doesn’t understand the end, but he missed so much of the beginning and middle that he barely questions it.

When it’s over, Eddie turns the dial back to that same, nondescript station that doesn’t fit him at all, fingers clenching hard enough on the wheel that Steve can hear it creak under the strain. Steve turns away, to look out the window, throat clogged up with feelings he doesn’t want to think about.

The longer this date drags on, the more excruciatingly clear it becomes that whatever is driving Eddie to this, it’s not him returning Steve’s feelings. This isn’t how dates go when you’re excited about them, there’s nothing clicking into place–it doesn’t even seem like Eddie’s trying.

He feels small, and sad, and every minute that passes with Eddie saying absolutely nothing at all only makes Steve feel more like a charity case that Eddie’s taken pity on. 

He never should have listened to Chrissy and Jeff’s encouragement. They’d both been so hopeful that he’d caved, but they’re not the ones stuck in the devastatingly uncomfortable moment. It’s just him and Eddie, living with the fact that Steve’s got a crush on a boy that can never like him back.

There’s no coming back from this, no matter how nice Eddie tries to be about it. Because he is nice, no matter how he’s been acting the past few weeks.

Steve’s the problem—always has been, always will be.

So, he stews in the silence, watching the same familiar buildings pass him by like it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. And maybe it will be, if Eddie decides to be not so nice. This was all so catastrophically, unbelievably stupid from that very first letter all the way to this moment, stuck in a van with a boy that won’t even look at him. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’re going the wrong way until Eddie’s pulling into a familiar clearing in the quarry. His headlights illuminate the skid marks Steve’s car had made in the dirt when he’d screeched to a halt to stop Jason Carver from rearranging his face.

Eddie slides into park much more levelly and cuts the engine. The quiet is absolute, made worse by the darkness surrounding them. Steve can hear the crinkle of Eddie shifting on his seat, the sound of his throat as he gulps like he’s about to go off to war.

 “I thought—” Eddie starts before petering off as his voice breaks. Steve listens to him take a few shuddering breaths before starting again. “I thought we could star gaze?”

Steve sighs, slumping back into his seat, so unbelievably tired. “Eddie—”

“Unless you don’t want to!” Eddie rushes out. “I just thought…”

Steve would kill to know what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, Eddie doesn’t pick up his trailing sentence, just leaves it hanging in the silence between them. Steve sighs again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, desperate to keep an even keel.

“Look, Eddie” Steve starts, turning toward Eddie. He can see the silhouette of his frame hunched over in the driver’s seat, but his face is a black void for Steve to project upon. It makes him brave. “You don’t have to do this. You, like, tried it out, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Steve—”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Steve cuts in, exhausted. “You can just drop me off at home, and we can go our separate ways.”

Eddie makes a sound like a strangled cat, and then his silhouette lunges across the distance between their seats. Steve jerks back, head banging painfully into the window as Eddie’s mouth mashes against his, more teeth than lips.

Shoutout, once again, to my beta reader and friend @queenie-ofthe-void for this one!!! I struggled for weeks on the date, and then they said, "what if you just make it as awkward as possible," and then I wrote this entire date in a day. Truly a muse for me <3<3<3

[ombiblombi]

P.AI.nter is SUCH an interesting character to me... he's probably become one of my all time favorites, as I haven't fixated on a character this hard since since...TMC. It physically hurts to think about it in the best way possible-

That being said, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS to say about 'em... so I'm going to dump them here.

First and formost, it's so interesting that P.AI.nter has such a wide array of emotions when it comes to attacking and interacting with the Expendables. At first it's strange, like "WTF?? You're trying to kill me and you just yelled how I was boring, wdym you're sorry??" But... knowing his lore and backstory, it makes so much sense.

P.AI.nters creator was gunned down on accident by Urbanshade, which upon the discovery of P.AI.nter, then decided to trap him in a harddrive and make it mine whats essenically crypto at the Hadal Site- For years, it's stuck mining for the company unwillingly, unable to draw the lanscapes it loved. For fucks sake, P.AI.nter tried to FRY HIS CIRCUTS just to get out. He's desprate, miserable and lonely, and just wants to escape- Any way possible.

And so when Sebastian comes reeks his havoc on the site and finds it, P.AI.nter is incredibly trusting of him to get them both out. Maybe alittle too trusting, but whats he got left to loose? They've both been used by the company and want nothing more to leave, leave and never return. So when Sebastian connects it to the servers- to the Navi-Path & Turrets and tells him to stop the Expendables, P.AI.nter does.

However.

This is self preservation down here. P.AI.nter of course, is rightfully angry at times. I mean- The same company that killed it's creator before his very (nonexistant) eyes, trapped it down here, and even sucked the joy he has from creating art away is now actively getting in the way of the freedom he yearns for. But at the same time... this isn't something done that it entirely wants to be doing. Like I said. This is self preservation. And his actions, and even your deaths weigh heavy. Theres a voiceline, and its delievered so well- Of P.AI.nter pleading for the player to wake up and apologizing profusely if it kills you.

That line sparked this whole theory in the first place.

Your death, reminds it of his creator.

Isn't it ironic how it's now manning the very same weapon that killed the one who brought him sentience in the first place? That he's now the one at fault? Thats gotta be on the back of his mind each and every time it leads an expendable to their demise.

This isn't personal.

He doesn't know who you are.

But it still hurts.

It really annoys me when people in the community call P.AI.nter two faced, or god forbid, do the shitty thing of saying in a derogatory manner that he's bipolar or such as a "joke". Thats just disrespectful to both the character and folks who do have it. It's just plain rude. People do something similar for Sebastian, saying that oh, they're ruining his character by making him mean and snarky and whatnot. I know this happens in every fandom out there, and that this rant is fruitless, but... people need to understand that characters like P.AI.nter and Sebastian have reasons behind their actions and have existing trauma that if you take a moment to look at, you can go "Wowie! Thats a complex character! Everything makes so much sense now, like a puzzle peice I can see traces of in their character in almost every aspect!" Rather than doing awful things like I brought up at the start. But... I digress. I know this rant wont change much so. I hope y'all enjoyed my mini character analysis

Anyway this video has all of P.AI.nters voicelines if 'ya wanna go have a listen after this :] also I got plenty more thoughts about P.AI.nter and Sebastian if anyone wants to know!

[ere-the-sun-rises]

@maybe-im-dark Want some angsty sweetness?

| | |

"He was sick, you know."

Logan stops dead in his tracks, because this abrupt change in topic was entirely unexpected. "Pardon?"

"My Logan." She continues, idly looking through the cereal on the shelves as they peruse the grocery store. "He was sick. That's what actually killed him."

"Oh." He's deeply uncomfortable with this, but he likes Laura, and she deserves to be heard, so he lets her speak.

"The wounds would keep bleeding and he got infections in his hands. Sometimes I saw him have to pull out his claws, or push them back in. Bruises would linger on his face and he would keel over from exhaustion constantly. He even needed glasses to read." She smiles slightly, fond and distant. "But he tried. By god, did he try. He gave everything he had for us, for me. In the end, that meant his life too."

"Ah." He has nothing to that. Even if he wanted to die - and fuck has he ever tried - he knows he can't.

"It meant a lot to me, to be worth protecting and dying for." She briefly meets his gaze with a knowing quirk of the lips. "It's hard to feel saved by someone else when you heal no matter what."

"Yeah." He admits softly. "It can be."

"It meant a lot, and it still does. No one will ever replace him, or become who he was to me." She puts a box of Wade's favourite cereal in the cart, then grabs its edge so he doesn't push any further. She's tense for a moment, face shielded by the curtain of her hair. "I'll love him forever for it. But it's an ugly feeling, being died for. You're alone, without that safety you've come to know and no idea if you'll ever feel it again - just that this instance of it is gone forever."

He takes her hand, heart breaking in sympathy. "I'l sorry, kid."

She meets his gaze again, always so sure and steady. "You'll never be him."

"I know. I-"

"I wasn't done." She cuts in and he snaps his mouth shut. She keeps him pinned under her dark eyes. "You are not a replacement for him, because I was lucky enough to get to lose him and I am lucky again and get to keep you."

He squeezes her hand, overwhelmed with sentimentality. "Laura ... "

"I got to grow up because of him, but I want to grow older alongside you. You're not him, and that's good. I want someone alive to love me too." She looks away again. "To be safe with."

He can't help himself and pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I will be. Always."

She hugs him back, face buried in his shoulder. "Good."

Now I like me some angst with Laura and Logan however there is much more potential with it being less angsty.

Laura morning her father yes but Worst Wolverine as a replacement wouldn't be as angsty as some people imagine.

Laura could never replace the men who saved her life but she isn't trying to. That Logan loved her deeply even if he didn't show it, but he was dead now. He sacrificed himself for her and she would always be thankful for that.

She however isn't tore up about growing close to the new Logan. She knows her father would want her to move on to love how she chooses and so she does with no reservations. This new Logan is just as much her father as the other and neither are replacements.

Worst Wolverine of course is doubtful he's more torn up about it than Laura herself. He isn't that kind of hero he insists on it. Laura just shakes her head at him and explains he is also her father any Logan is.

She is sure her Logan wherever he is is proud and happy that she can move on. She has Logan and Wade now did she just knows that wherever he is watching he couldn't be prouder.

[royaltea000]

YO! Being a drawing, what’s there to be afraid of!

[bogkeep]

truly videogames are such a good medium for stories where Something Is Wrong With Time... every game with a saving mechanic has a time travel function, be it acknowledged in universe or not. games can give you the option to experience pieces of story in a non-linear fashion or skip them entirely. time and timing is no longer bound to the confines of a movie's runtime or pages of a book...!

[mcrcki]

"you know that's not what i fucking mean, xaden, don't fucking start with that--" they were only feeding off each other, and despite violet knowing that, she cannot stop herself from following him down this path, letting his anger fuel her own. "you're changing physically because of whatever the fuck you've done! i can fucking watch you become someone different! every time you tap into that fucking power, you're changing!" she felt like she was going to break down, every other word from him had her reeling, watching him become more and more unrecognizable.. this couldn't continue on, she had wasted so much fucking time without her memories, had spent so long just what? flirting with him and going on fucking dates with dain? she had doomed him with her inactions, her inability to find a cure. only putting herself in danger more so he felt like he needed to do more and more to protect her? "you think i wasn't tired of the maybe's?! of the fucking uncertainty that was going to come with you going down this road, with there being no fucking wards, no one else here that knows what the fuck a venin is! but if my two options were you dying or you becoming this, that doesn't put me in a fair position and you know it. i couldn't choose between those two, and you cannot expect me to make that choice." though, now, he had made that choice, leaving her with no other option right? if he was going to keep falling, not giving her any time to find a cure.. could she let him just walk away knowing how much of a danger he could become? he was already the most powerful rider in their generation, what would be become as a venin? "i can handle myself! you know i can! i don't need you to keep fucking draining because you're afraid of me being hurt! why can't you help me without falling further down this path, xaden? why does it have to be this way!" he had helped her so many times, had kept her safe so many different ways already, why did it have to be different now? why was the only option complete indifference or draining! "those people were complacent in torturing me and my friends, they would have killed you. someone just trying to deck you because you're being a dick is different! killing using those powers is different! how do you not see that every time you use them is making you fall deeper into this! that every time you drain, you get closer and closer to becoming one of them! how can you expect me to just sit back and watch you destroy yourself!" it was so hard to look at him, to see xaden underneath all of this. he was just right there, right within arms reach and gods all she wanted was her xaden back. to never have to deal with this venin bullshit ever again. but every day she was in danger, and considering her track record and luck that was nearly every day, he would continue to fall, until he was completely unrecognizable. before her and her friends were in danger because they stood in his way. wasn't it her responsibility to stop this? he became this because of her, she had to be the one to stop this. "you can't promise that. my power is basically the only thing that can fucking kill you, you remember that, right? you really think you won't see that as a threat if you let yourself go any further!" they were going in circles, this wasn't going to get them anywhere, not when he was clearly dodging her questions again, waiting for her to 'ask the right one', she's so sure. she wanted to fucking scream, needing a straight answer out of him for once. "tell me their name xaden. what is the name of the person you just killed?" because of all the people they knew... what were the chances that it was one of her friends? that rhi or dain or mira said something that set him off.. did he know anyone else that would send him over the edge that wouldn't have broken him? because touching imogen or liam would be too much, this wouldn't even be a conversation.. but dain? mira? her heartbeat only grew louder in her ears waiting for the answer, knowing it'll devastate her regardless.

"being physically different doesn't mean shit, are you really that fucking shallow, violet? i look a little different, that means i'm going to start attacking and killing the people i've given up fucking everything to protect? you act like i did this for a fucking laugh, everything i've done has been to keep you all safe!" he's sure he's given up more than she knows. he's very aware of the fact that his father is watching from wherever he is, cursing his name and disowning his only son. there's no family for him when he does meet malek, she'll be the only one by his side, and yet somehow he's the bad guy here. "we've been existing on a maybe for months! i'm not going to apologize for being sick and tired of balancing on the edge of whatever the fuck is going to happen when i finally let go! i'm sick and tired of this shit, violet! i wanted to end it all and you wouldn't let that happen, i wanted to embrace it and now that's a problem too!" he couldn't keep standing in between two different shitty endings, something had to give eventually. and at least this way, he could keep her safe. "really, because it seems like you're just expecting me to ignore the fact that you're in danger because it might make me get worse! we don't even know if that's the reality of it and you're acting like i shouldn't try to help you because of a guess!" he can't help but shake his head, frustrations leaking into every word he speaks, frustrations he'd never imagined being aimed at violet of all people, and yet here they are. "how was it different? i killed dozens of people that day, violet, none of who actually started the fight, but i kill one that attacked me and you're up in arms? that's not fair, you can't change your standards now because you don't like the method." but the more she lectures him, the more he doesn't see how they can possibly come to an agreement on this. she'll never see him as anything but a monster now, will she? as much as she claims not to, as much as she claims she wants to save him and keep him by her side, he's always going to be a monster to her now. "you would never be just a fucking power source, violence. and i think liam would respect that i made a choice to keep him alive, and that i'm still me after all of this!" and would that be partially because he was their leader? because liam felt loyalty to him? maybe so, but he's sure liam still would have accepted the choice after a bit of a debate. the same way he'd accepted every other sacrifice xaden had made for the marked children to keep them alive and safe. "i knew who it was." he replies, already knowing that elaborating any further will doom him, damn him in her eyes as something mad and irredeemable, if he isn't already. and maybe that's the problem. she knows too much, knows him too well, thinks she can read him like a book and know that something is wrong, rather than accepting that she's reading into something that isn't there. "it's not your responsibility, violence. i made my choices, they're my responsibility."

[bonefall]

Is there a cat in cannon who got a good death who you think didn't deserve it? Especially if they committed crimes?

Tom the Wifebeater and his redemption death. No question. It's not even close.

Not only do I reject to the "redemption death" on the grounds of it being Tom the Wifebeater who is bullying others until his dying breath, even taunting Thunder about Turtle Tail is dead and the kits must be very torn up about it, but I reject "redemption through death" entirely. I don't like it in stories. It's a theme I deeply object to.

And again it's fucking wild that every time a character is a father, even if they are a wifebeater or a child abuser, the writers think that it bestows a glimmer of goodness into them which every abused child is forced to appreciate and cry about. Breezepelt, Thunder, Tallstar, Tom's children, all of them forced to reconcile and admit how much they wuv their papa.

Abusive dads in WC regularly get redemption deaths, too. Clear Sky dies saving his grandchild, Sandgorse died saving a rando in a tunnel, Tom the Wifebeater saving his daughter.

But Tom the Wifebeater is the worst example of it. Hands down.

[imminent-danger-came]

MK: "No way! I may not understand your irrational love of noodles, or working hard, or being angry all the time—but you are always there when I need you, so it's time for me to return the favor! Because Pigsy's Noodles, are noodles worth fighting for!"

(2x04 Sweet'n Sour)

-

Subodhi: "Zhu Bajie was a stubborn one too." Pigsy: "Oh! So you think we're the same just cause we're pigs huh, bet you think I'm just a disgusting little monster too." Subodhi: "Zhu Bajie had his vices, however, like all the companions he grew up. He struggled the most, but he worked hard, not unlike yourself. Although he didn't start out this way, in time he became a deeply caring and protective creature, and a powerful ally—one of the best in fact. The heart you have in abundance, the power? Why, you've barely scratched the surface of your potential! And that's saying something."

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

Gettin' emotional over my favorite hard working Pig man.

[kyouka-supremacy]

%

[the-bi-space-ace]

I have been DYING to get a minute to sit down and write out my thoughts about this because oooooooh boy you really got my brain racing with this one.

Echo and Fives have been so much of a package deal that they’ve fallen into a pattern they’re both comfortable with. Echo has a level head, confidence, and he’s very comfortable with authority figures. Fives is passionate and fiery but he also gets antsy with waiting around. The having to think about what’s coming next really gets to him whereas Echo doesn’t get that nervous.

I have noticed that there are several times Fives follows Echo’s lead, lets him take the front, and Echo is their voice. Often when you’re so intertwined with someone else you can tend to fall into patterns that work for you and I think it’s totally possible that happened for Fives and Echo.

Echo just does so well with structure, mediating, strategy and the planning process. It seems to get him more ready to get moving. Hearing about what’s going on, their mission, how they’re going to help, just gets him fired up to get going. He is never hesitant to state exactly what he thinks and he is a compelling man. When he believes in something he’s hard to ignore. Fives just wants to get out there and do it. The more he has to hear about how bad it is, how many steps it’s going to take, how dangerous it is, the more nervous he becomes. It’s like he has this anxiety about having to hear about it, sit with it, know it’s coming. The anticipation drives him up a wall he would really rather just do it and let his adrenaline do the talking.

Echo is so comfortable in the structure of it all. He likes having rules and boundaries and he likes knowing how to bend them. He’s confident, which is something I love about him. And Fives is confident too just in the ‘doing’ phase more so than the ‘planning’ phase.

I like the idea that they level each other out. That they need each other for different things. An equal and balanced partnership. A partnership that is shaken to its core at the Citadel. Fives has to learn to make up for the balancing act he lost.

And in a lot of ways he does. He changes. It’s so clear to me that by Umbara there is something different about him. The way he fights for what he thinks is right is something I’ve just come to associate with Fives but I like seeing him grow into it, find ways to speak out, and make people see him. Fives is one of those characters that really grows into himself, ya know? We see him at a few different stages of life and see how he’s changed from his cadet years and I’ll always be proud of the man Fives became.

I know Echo is proud of him, too.

I’ve always loved the idea that Echo was 60% of the chaos of the domino twins. Fives gave a good 40% of it but mostly held on for dear life and made sure Echo had someone backing him up. He knew Echo would have his back, would stand up for them and would recite every regulation he could remember to get them out of hot water. Echo may not be able to lie one bit but if he can use his knowledge against you he’s golden. The second they had a plan Fives would be all for it, ready to go, jumping in as fast as he could, but Fives knew to let Echo do the talking if they got caught so he could get them out of the hole they’d dug themselves.

I don’t know really where I was going with this just that I love it and can’t get enough of these two 🩶

Fives Thoughts

Sooooo I literally just made a post being like 'here are some fun bits from Umbara because the arc is depressing and I don't wanna talk about the sad bits' but uh... I had thoughts in the last 15 mins and now I wanna share them. 😃

And of course tagging as usual for people I'm interested to hear opinions from: @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings @the-bi-space-ace

It's been a while since I watched these story arcs back-to-back, so a lot of the character development is really showing atm. And one I find interesting is a shift in Fives between The Citadel and Umbara.

Fives has always had a bit of a firey personality, but up until this point he's been a little bit held back with that passion for the most part. And I'm gonna touch in something that @novaceleste and @spaceyjessa spoke about in their podcast (@coffeeandclones I was just listening to it the other day and they talk about some interesting points. Defo recommend you check it out. Also #JusticeForDroidbait2024) because it really is the basis for this whole point. Despite Fives being the brasher, slightly more hardheaded personality, and Echo being the more by-the-books one, it's Echo that tends to do a lot of the talking when authority is involved. When they speak to Shaak Ti, it's Echo that takes the lead, while Fives is a little more hesitant.

And when they first meet Rex and Cody, Fives automatically introduces himself as CT-27-5555, despite being very open about his displeasure of being called that throughout their training. He has this louder personality but he tends to draw into himself and panic slightly when put in front of authority.

However, he still has these more fiery moments, like during his speech in ARC Troopers. When he's put in a fight, that spark within him comes out full force. "My blood is boiling for a fight." That's what drives Fives. That's where that passion comes from. He always wanted to make ARC trooper, to prove himself and to demonstrate that fire in the fight.

And yet when we get to the Citadel, he's surprisingly nervous. Echo seems to be fairly on board with everything, he's listening intently, he's down with the plan. But Fives is rather hesitant and doesn't seem totally enthused about the whole thing. They've made ARC trooper, they're being included in a specialist mission, the things that Fives so desperately worked for. But now that they're here? He's really not comfortable with it.

And I think that Fives' passion and drive is so prominent in the heat of battle because his adrenaline is going, he's got the energy to burn and so that's when we see this fire in him. But in the quieter moments, the meetings, the in-between fights? He's nervous. Those are the moments where he can sit on it and really think about what they're up against. And what becomes really apparent is that Fives is absolutely terrified of the thing that fuels his fire. The thing he worked so hard for scares the absolute shit out of him. And for good reason.

But it's never been so much of an issue because he had Echo. Echo, who's more level headed, who feels comfortable with plans and formats and authority. He could be the comforting presence that Fives needed outside of battle, while Fives could be the spark in it. They're like fire and water. They keep each other regulated, balanced.

But then The Citadel happens.

And watching the Umbara arc, I noticed that Fives doesn't have that very noticeable fear. It's not that it's absent, it's just that it isn't so obvious all of the time. Of course, some of that is going to come with experience, he's been an ARC for longer, he's know Rex for a while so there's slightly more comfort with that level of authority, but he's definitely more consistently confident than he was before.

So my suggestion is, what if that comes as a result of losing Echo (at least in part)? He doesn't have that calming presence anymore, the one to balance his nerves. He doesn't have someone to stand firm beside him or take the bigger step for the two of them, so he's had to learn to do that himself. I think part of it is natural growth that comes with experience (to quote Rex: "experience outranks everything") but I do also think it comes with no longer having that constant other half. Fives has had to learn to balance himself.

Like I said earlier, a lot of this links back to stuff said in Nova and Jessa's podcast, so I'd recommend checking it out. But I just wanted to add my extra thoughts on it, having just watched Umbara, because it definitely stuck out to me on this rewatch.

[lesbianaelwen]

i Unfortunately haven't been able to be on here bc i've been so fucking busy but i Have been keeping up with d20 stuff and just. burrow's end is so good for me specifically

[kii2me2ii2]

omori's inclinations towards self isolation is so realistic and similar to my own it's almost disturbing and very nearly triggering... very. nearly.

[cinnabeat]

ok gonna be a hater about ui design again but what the FUCK is the safari layout on the iphone

[thedevotionaltour]

in terms of art alone im sorry. im a jrjr defender to my last breath you be fucking nice to him. i dont wanna hear shit❗️❗️❗️