#that it was definitely a very good game that was just not for me

[elegantgardenrunaway]

If it's with you

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

A/N: AAAAAAH FINALLY I FINISHED IT. Sorry for the delay, to be honest it was quite challenging for me to write this one. I hope I did Curly good enough for you.

This is the second (and last) part of this. But if you want to keep with the fluff then I would recommend skipping this.

Warnings: Jimmy (ofc), violence, mild gore(?), death, no happy ending (sorry guys not really), very hinted about what happened with Anya, but not explicit.

And bad grammar, probably. Sorry, English is not my first language.

He wishes he had kept his mouth shut.

Just for a day or two more, so at least the decorations wouldn't have been put to waste.

Such a birthday celebration. They must have put a lot of effort into it and he had to go and ruin everything.

Their reactions are still burning in his mind, like burning coal scorching his brain; Anya's worried voice, Swansea sarcastic remarks, Daisuke’s silence, Jimmy's accusations, your blank expression looking at the plate while you gripped the fork with white knuckles. No matter what, they are always there.

He sighs heavily, he needs to get to work soon.

He doesn't know how he will face the others now.

Yet he doesn't move, doesn't even hear that someone has entered the lounge. He later hears the shuffle of the couch as someone sits besides. He doesn't bother to look up nor start a conversation, too drained to give an explanation or even a half joke to break the ice.

They stand up again. He thinks they are going to leave him alone.

Then he hears the radio being turned on, followed by the sound of music, banishing the silence in the air.

He turns up, surprised and confused, finding you walking back to him with a nervous smile on your face.

For some reason, he's relieved that you are not Jimmy.

I mean, he definitely wouldn't do something like this.

You took his hands, lightly pulling him up. His hands had brushed against yours more than one time, on accident that is, due to your jobs or as a playful row during game nights. Now he realizes how warm and comforting your hands are to the point he hardly notices that he went up on his own, following you.

“Do you like to dance, Captain?” Your voice takes him out of his trance.

He blinks “... What?”

“... Um… Do you… do you like to dance? We can dance if you want. It's still your birthday party and it shouldn't end like this. Please, at least one dance”

He looked at them, dance… Dance? In a moment like this?

“We still have work to do,” he said, trying to give an excuse to get out of this.

“To hell with work,” you responded as you guided him “Forget the work, the company, everything. Tomorrow we'll drown. Today? Today we dance”

… That doesn't sound so bad.

He looks at your eyes. They hold such determination even if you look nervous. Your hands, your hands were holding him, he felt grounded. He repeated your words in his mind:

Today we dance. Ha, he isn't very good at it. He doesn't dance a lot, never had the time in a work like this.

He didn't refuse your proposal, didn't have the heart to tell you no, but he warned you about his lack of skill on the dance floor.

You laughed, he didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or offended or both, but your later reassurance lifted a weight from his shoulders. Soon he's holding you in his arms, bodies close, his head resting on you as you sway with the melody. His body is relaxed and the worries about the future are temporarily forgotten from his mind.

You don't judge him nor think less of him. Instead, you go at his pace and encourage him to try something different, something new, even if he's not really good at it, he can still learn.

Especially if it's with you.

Time seemed to disappear for both of you. A song became two, became three, became four until you had to let each other go, you had to go back to work.

But he didn’t want to do that. He wished he could stay with you, just a little bit longer.

But when you accepted that the time was up, you agreed to meet again for your next class the following day in the morning before work.

He was the first one to arrive. Entering the lounge way before your agreement. The holographic screen still shows the night sky. He didn't sleep, he couldn't. His friend has been giving him the cold shoulder and the rest of his crew is still shaken up from the news. Even though you tried to hide it, he still noticed.

And then, there is him. With a good reference secured. Which is good, but then again he still needs to figure out what he wants to do once he steps down for good.

What was life before the Tulpar? Who was Curly before the captain?

“Good morning” you yawned, trying to fix your appearance and open your eyes a little bit more “I see you're early, how long have you been here?”

“Uh?” He quickly turned upon hearing you, looking at you for a few seconds with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, he knew you were giving up some of the few hours of sleep you had in favor of this and he appreciates that. If the coffee machine wasn't empty, he would've made some for you.

“Oh, no… I just arrived, you have nothing to worry about” he lied and walked to your side “Thank you for doing this”

“Uh, don't mention it” you mumbled, yawning once more.

“Can I offer you something? Well, anything that is not coffee that is…”

“Heh, I'm alright, don't worry about it. Shall we start?”

How fast can someone get interested in another person?

Not to say he didn't pay attention to you before. It's just that now he does it in a different way, another eyes, another heart.

Suddenly he sees your expression when you smile, the wrinkles on your face when you laugh at Daisuke's bad jokes or the sudden energy boost you get with him and Anya, ; the way you listen to Swansea's rants or roll your eyes at Jimmy. Which he doesn't really like.

For six days you had taught Curly the basics of dance.

For six mornings Curly had felt excitement of waiting for a new day. He wanted to learn about dancing, learn about you.

And then …

System Failure

System Failure

System Failure

"…"

He wished he wasn't so stupid. That he was a better man and stopped Jimmy, gave him a better punishment for his actions. But then again, his options weren't very promising, especially if it involved everyone's last pay.

But maybe he's just making excuses.

He wants to scream, to apologize, to Anya, to Swansea, Daisuke and you.

Maybe he wasn't the one who set up the ship towards the asteroid, but practically served the option for Jimmy in a silver plate. So it was the same, at least in his mind, as if he was the one in the seat.

It kills him, it kills him to be a prisoner in his own, decaying body that refused to die or at least that the other refused to let die. He now has to depend on Anya —as if things weren't nightmarish enough — to even breathe properly.

You started to help Anya a little bit after he got stabilized. Seeing how she was struggling with him, you wanted to relieve some of the burden from her shoulders. The first thing you did was try to give him his pills. He will never forget the look on your eyes, the shine of betrayal and uncertainty, you seemed to be observing a bizarre creature, a monster.

That made him feel he was burning all over again.

And despite that, you did it again. You continued to give him his pills and learn from Anya how to take care of him the best you could with the little equipment you had, the fearful and horrified expression you desperately tried to conceal for his sake turned to a resigned, yet kind one. You get used to the bandages, the smell of burned fresh he still emits and soon replace Anya on the duty of giving him his pills, giving the woman a little peace of mind.

You talk to him, more often than not, you tell him about your day, the plans to have to ensure your survival, what would you do once you get back to earth, the ideas you have to get another job and one of two comments about redoing the dance lessons once he recovers from his injuries, though clarifying that it was only if he was interested. As if you would survive this.

For him, that was what was keeping him alive. He could only dream of that future you were telling him, the things you were telling yourself to give both of you hope, to desperately keep the shine in your eyes to keep shining.

Though that could only work for so long. Especially after you and the rest of the remaining crew discovered the contents of the cargo.

Mouthwash.

So that's what he was dedicating his own life for, the reason he was climbing ladders for…

He couldn't help but let out a pained chuckle, surprising you, making you look as if he just performed a miracle.

Well, he supposes that if is his suffering all it takes to impress you, then he'll gladly give it to you. Anything that could give you some hope.

Things started spiraling, you had told him and sometimes he could even hear it from his spot in the infirmary. How Swansea broke his sobriety after all these years, how Daisuke started to drink too, how Anya and you tried to keep the situation at float, but what he was most scared of was how Jimmy seemed to start to act more… aggressive. If that was even possible. He was more demanding, more prone to outburst and you and him had had rows more often.

He would be lying if he was afraid that he would do something to you. You, who still tries to hold some hope and share it with him. You are a balm that manages to soothe at least some of the despair that crushes his chest and the electric torture his own muscles give him.

He promises himself, that if you two get out of here alive and manages to at least become a somewhat functional living being, even if it meant having some kind of shitty prosthetics, even if he had to learn to walk again, he would take you to a nice place, get you some nice clothes and dance with you all night.

Yes, yes he would. And for that, he needs to keep himself alive. To take responsibility for what happened, to have a life with you.

Then suddenly, one day you came, with a look of shock. You didn't say too much that day, only a few words.

“I know... I-I know what he did”

And you didn't need to say anything else.

And you stopped talking to him for what felt like an eternity. It was a week and a half, but with the silence of the room and Anya and Jimmy being the only ones coming here, it was torture for him.

He never thought he would feel more relieved when you started talking to him again. He cried, it hurted, it hurted like hell. You shushed him gently.

But you never talked about the future again. Sometimes you still didn't talk at all, the shine in your eyes replaced by a resignation that gave him chills.

And then, everything fell apart the moment Anya locked herself in the nursery, asking if you could look after Daisuke to make sure he was doing okay, she could give him his medicines, assuring you that she was capable and that you didn't need to worry about it.

She didn't give him his medicines.

Instead, he was forced to witness how she twitched and withered on the floor until her body no longer moved.

He heard Daisuke's screams before he appeared from that vent. The young boy saw Anya, eyes glossy and horrified and tried to beg for her to talk, hoping that she was still somewhat alive, to tell him everything would be okay. And between guilty sobs, he mentioned Jimmy's name and that you were gravely injured too.

His heart stopped at that moment.

What happened to you? What did he do? Are you okay? Will you make it? Or is it too late for you too?

It couldn't be, it couldn't.

Then everything seemed to happen in a blur, he barely remembers what came next. Jimmy and Swansea were in the infirmary, the latter betaring the first one for his foolishness, for what he did to you and Daisuke. When they inevitably found nothing that would help them, they left. An hour or so later, Daisuke's screams echoed through the hall. The door was upon, but the position they were on didn't allow him to see much. But he did see how Swansea held the ax above Daisuke. Then, Daisuke's breathing stopped echoing in the halls, then Jimmy came and grabbed the gun….

The fucking gun that was under him all along.

The gun Anya hid because she was afraid of him. And he couldn't understand why at that time.

And now that he does, he can't help but laugh, as strong as his body allows him. He can't do anything anymore, he's fucking useless, he can't do a damn thing. He can't be a good captain, a good friend.

A fucking decent human being in general.

Then there came the struggling, the echo of the gunshots.

He knew he was next.

He thought he was next.

He wished he was next.

How? How could he not see the type of creature that it was Jimmy?

His crew, what once was his crew, their bodies, crudely slumped against the chairs around the table. A party, for the death and the damned, a judgment for the two sinners left in this godforsaken coffin.

Your body was on the left, next to Anya's corpse. The way blood seeped from your face told a horrifying story of your last moments on this world, at the mercy of the monster that now held him. How he wished he could have been there, to protect you, to protect all of them.

How he wished this was nothing but a nightmare, that he could wake up at any moment, go to the lounge and wait for you to appear in your groggy state, still having droll on your cheek and your uniform all messy. He would give you something to drink, maybe not coffee. The machine would always be empty.

But once again, his illusions were shattered with the piercing pain of the knife sawing his flesh.

He screamed, from the pain of his flesh being slayed and his bone being broken, from the sight of his crew rotting around a table, reduce as nothing put twisted puppets for Jimmy's entertainment, for the person he cherished and gave him a reason to keep going, the one who gave him a future, gave him bliss even if they were on the bottom of the deeps of hell and made him feel that his dreams were true, motionless in front of him, and he wasn't able to even say goodbye.

He wasn't even granted the mercy of death. The demon didn't allow it. His twisted conscience believed he could somehow redeem himself if he managed to keep him alive.

Even if it means feeding him his own leg.

Even if it means putting him in the last cryopod while the coward escaped by the least painful way.

He didn't even have the strength to curse him one last time.

As the cold ice burned his exposed flesh, he couldn't help but wonder if things could have been different somehow. If he had the strength to oppose Jimmy, to at the very least stop him from crashing the ship. Would it be different?

It probably doesn't matter anymore. Not when he is going to spend the next twenty years or so frozen in time. He doesn't want anyone to come, a captain must go down with the ship after all.

Death sounds better if you are waiting for him on the other side.

[hauntedestheart]

Something To Be Thankful For (Male Body Swap)

A Thanksgiving themed story where the family loser finally gets a break

Thanksgiving is inarguably the worst holiday. First off, it's racist and imperialist and celebrates the genocide of the Native Americans, but also it, uh, just kinda sucks! None of the fun parts of other holidays like gifts or candy but all of the worst parts... and by "worst parts," I mean forced family gatherings.

I'm probably just bitter about it because I'm something of the black sheep in my family. For starters I'm gay. I'm also the shortest one of my siblings, and the sole glasses wearer. And on top of that, I'm the only one in a clan of witches and warlocks who never manifested magic powers.

I know, I know. Pick a struggle, right?

My father is a high ranking executive at one of the preeminent magical goods suppliers in the country. My mother's homebrewed potions win awards. My older sister is graduating magna cum laude from college with a degree in charms. Even my younger brother was conjuring lightning in the womb.

But me? The family's little loser? Never a flicker.

A normie in a magic family is not unheard of but it's all my relatives will ever talk to me about, which makes the holidays hell. Thanksgiving is the worst of all since it's always set aside for a big family reunion, which means I get to spend a week fielding condescending questions from the entire clan about how I'm still a disappointment

And that's on top of the usual family drama! Drunk uncles fighting, mothers comparing their children's achievements, married couples who should really be divorced having uncomfortably public arguments, excruciating political debates- not to mention the unusual family drama, like spell competitions and aggravated curses. I can't even enjoy the free vacation this year since we went to island resort, and my pasty ass can barely spend a few minutes in the sun before burning.

Yippee.

The only bright spot is that my sister brought her boyfriend with her this year- his name's Quincy. He's hot, right?

Quincy is not very smart, nor does he have magic, and in every interaction I've had with him he's been kind of a tool. This makes him the perfect match for my domineering sister- a big, dumb hunk that she can keep under her thumb.

The relationship is new and she definitely just wanted to bring him along to show him off to our cousins and to piss off our racist relatives, but I certainly wasn't gonna complain about having some free eye candy along. I mean, his muscles? His smile? I couldn't wait to see how he filled out a bathing suit because his regular pants were always screaming at the seams.

So yes, pathetic as it sounds, the thing I was looking forwards to the most about this family reunion was getting to sneak glances at my sister's boyfriend. Creepy, I know, but it's not like I was hurting anybody! He was just another beautiful thing that I'd never have.

Just like the respect of my family, and all of the magic around me.

I got to see a decent amount of him the first day we arrived (he wasn't hard to spot since his massive frame stuck out in the crowd) and it was really the only thing that kept me going as the week of torture began. I turned it into sort of a game- every time something insufferable happened, as a treat, got to objectify Quincy.

When Grandpa asked me if I'd developed powers yet and then shook his head when I said no, I let myself stare at the way Quincy's biceps flexed while he carried everyone's luggage.

When Cousin Leland and his wife started throwing hexes at each other in the elevator, I got to stare at a certain someone's giant ass as he walked up the stairs in front of me.

When my sister snapped at me for taking so long to unpack because I had to do it by hand instead of just zapping everything out, I flipped her off and imagined myself motorboating her boyfriend's pecs.

When Creepy Uncle Marlow made a pass at my mom... actually I kept my eyes to myself that time, acutely aware that I was well on my way to becoming a creepy bachelor uncle. Sigh.

At dinner, I found myself seated at the kid's table even though I was well into my twenties because Auntie Myrna (the old bitch who made the seating arrangements) thought I'd "be more comfortable there" since there would be so much talk of magic at the other tables- never mind that half of the family's significant others were normies and they got along just fine.

At the very least, my spot offered me a good view of Quincy, who was seated with the rest of my family at the head table. It was hard not to feel jealous, looking at that big, strong, handsome guy who didn't seem to have a care in the world.

As was tradition, we all bowed our heads as my father read the out a sacred incantation that had been passed down through our family for generations that was supposed to ensure our good fortune. It was part of the reason we reunited on Thanksgiving- what better time of year to renew our blessings than the time of thankfulness?

But as I sat there bored, powerless, and lonely, I struggled to really feel the spirit of the holiday. I did feel a weird tingling though.

Next thing I knew I was sitting at the head table, feeling better than I ever had in my life. Power surged through my veins, but it wasn't magic, it was... strength? Muscles? When did I get muscles?

I stared down at myself and my body was unrecognizable. My skin was dark brown and I was twice the size I was before, maybe even three times. I ran my hands over the surface of the tight black t-shirt I was now wearing and I felt all sorts of ridges and bumps- then I realized that since it was my body, I could slip the hand under the t-shirt, and I discovered that those bumps were a fucking six pack and a chest.

I slipped the other hand under in disbelief and cupped one pectoral in each of my hands, my eyes widening as I squeezed them tight and felt the soft muscle flexing in my hand. It felt incredible, like I was grabbing clouds out of heaven. What was going on?

A silver serving tray was sitting on the table in front of me and I picked it up, gasping in shock at the face I saw reflected back at me. Quincy?

Unsure of what was happening, I rose to my feet and stumbled instantly, not anticipating just how far up I'd go. I was tall, towering over a majority of the other guests, and my new height gave me the perfect view of the pandemonium that had erupted in the rest of the dining room.

I glanced to my right and saw my sister had yanked her top down and was feeling her own boobs while my teenage brother was jumping up and down, bending his knees with a big smile. On the far side, Grandpa was hobbling around with a shell shocked expression on his face, and he nearly crashed into Uncle Marlow, who was grabbing his crotch and shrieking. Mom was banging on the table, trying to get everyone's attention, but no one was listening.

I didn't have to be a magician to get what was going on- all around, people were struggling with the shock of their new bodies. There were cries of confusion, people already searching for their families and themselves. Full grown adults were sobbing like little kids, some of them were being comforted by little kids.

And there was lots and lots of grabbing of private parts.

I turned around and saw my own body seated at the kid's table, patting himself down in shock- whoever was in me didn't look happy. But you know who was happy? Me!

I took advantage of the chaos to escape into the hallway, away from the noise and prying eyes, and I immediately tore my shirt off. And I mean literally tore it off, grabbing the fabric with two strong hands and tearing it down the middle just to see if I could. Quincy was wearing a black undershirt, so tight on his muscles it looked like it was painted on- it was already one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen, and I wasn't even done undressing!

The undershirt had to go too, slipped over my head and discarded to the side so I could get a clear view of Quincy's incredible torso. I'd seen muscles before, objectively I knew what they looked like, but seeing them from a first persona angle was utterly surreal. I pressed a finger into the meat of one of the pectorals that jutted out from my chest and watched the finger sink in, then I flexed so the muscle became hard and forced the finger away. I chuckled with glee.

The charcoal shorts that Quincy was wearing were quickly abandoned and I discovered with some delight that he was a boxer briefs man- which made sense, because he had a lot of goods to support. Just like his undershirt, his underwear was skintight, and I wondered if it was because he sought out clothes that hugged his figure, or if his body was just so big that this was the only way things fit him.

I ran my hands over the curve of his ass and it was just as supple as I'd imagined it would be, and there was so much of it that his hands could barely cover the cheeks. I'd have to find a mirror later so I could get a full view of what it looked like when I shook it.

Then I felt a stirring in my belly and saw that the thick projection at the front of Quincy's underwear was starting to snake further and further down... how far would it go, I wondered?

Someone interrupted me before I could find out, and I was summoned back into the room to sort things out with the rest of my mixed up family. I didn't bother getting dressed before making my return- why cover up all that goodness?

Now I know what you're probably thinking- "oh wow, his powers finally manifested! He can switch people's bodies!" Well as sickening as that would be, that was not the case.

When everyone finally calmed down a bit, my father (now in the body of my mother) explained that he'd been cursed by a business rival before the holiday and he hadn't had time to investigate the effects before we left for vacation. Suspicious curse plus family wide incantation equaled mass body swaps.

Since magic relating to the mind and body is some of the trickiest, we would need an expert to untangle this, and since none were going to be available until after the holidays and rebooking flights on the weekend of a major holiday was impossible even with magic, we were stuck at the resort in our new bodies for the rest of the week.

Which is fine by me of course- getting to spend the rest of this vacation in the primo body of a hunk? Cruising the beach looking like this?

Finally, something to be thankful for.

[pinkhor1zon]

i find comfort in you

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: idol!woonhak x non-idol gn!reader

warnings: nothing but woonhak is playing ow.

word count: 0.6k words

maia’s note: little drabble bcuz it’s woonhak day!! he’s 18 now.. he’s growing up so fast :(( i love unak so much and i hope he has a great day filled w/ lots of love!! also this work is NOT very good and isn’t really proofread but it is cute. enjoy reading!! reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🩶

after a long and exhausting day, this is just what you needed.

there you laid in woonhaks embrace, watching him struggle in his current game of overwatch. “aghh!!” he frustratedly groaned at the screen. him and his team had just lost the objective.

you giggled, observing his reactions. his lips were sealed in a pout and his eyebrows were furrowed together.

“what? is my frustration funny?” he said, keeping his eyes locked on the television.

you smiled, still looking at him, “yes, very.”

he let out a scoff and you ruffled his hair. the whole week you two hadn’t been able to spend time together. he is, of course, an idol preparing for his next comeback, and you’re a student, a hardworking one at that.

you both found passion for your respective careers, that being what bonded you together. but sometimes, this passion can be too strong. and more often than usual, you both become extremely burnt out.

woonhak’s game finishes with a loss and he falls back into the couch, you still in his arms with your head resting on his shoulder.

he isn’t his normal self. usually, when he loses, he’s more dramatic about it and performs some act like falling to his knees or reaching out to the tv screen, but he doesn’t do that. seeing this, you definitely know it’s because he’s too tired.

you hum, “that was a good game.”

he sighs, “it wasn’t. i’m so out of it.”

he looks at you and your faces are just inches away. looking at him like this; you see the dark circles under his eyes and the droopy corners of his mouth.

“woonhak..” you pause until he gives you a look that signals you to continue. “you can talk to me about anything okay? your worries are mine, and even if you don’t want that, it’s uncontrollable.”

“but i don’t want to be a burden to you.”

you give him a reassuring smile, “you could never be a burden to me.” you take his hand and carve little hearts on it. “let’s make a promise. whenever one of us is feeling exhausted or upset, let’s tell each other. we can be each other’s escape, hm?”

he nods, “okay.” woonhak sticks out his pinky finger and you entangle yours into his, locking your promise.

after this he pulls you closer to him, into a full hug. he snuggles his face into the side of your neck and mumbles something. you pull away and look at him with confusion. “what is it?” you ask.

woonhak responds, intertwining both your hands together, “nothing much. i just find comfort in your presence; you in general.”

your face warms up and you smile, but it turns more into a grin.

his cheeks flush, “hey! why are you laughing?”

you shake your head. “you just,” struggling to get the words out from your laughter, “you’re too cute hak!”

woonhak wasn’t a big fan of being called cute, but when you say it, it’s the best compliment he’s ever gotten—especially with that nickname.

“hey.. you can’t just say things like that.” he says, turning his head the other way so you couldn’t see the huge smile on his face.

you notice this and turn your head in that direction so you can see him face to face, leading you both to start bursting with laughter.

“you can’t say anything! i saw you cheesin’!” you say in between laughs.

“no..” he replies, trying to stifle the laughter.

days and weeks go by as woonhak does his idol duties and you go through the school cycle. but throughout those times, you stand by each others side; holding the others hand through it all.

please DO NOT copy, repost, or translate.

[imaginespazzi]

NIVI!! Give us your postgame thoughts on Ole Miss!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING MY LOVIES! I am thankful for that fact that I found a stream that worked last night and got to watch this game even though that 3rd quarter took years off of my life.

AZZI. FUDD. I don't think I can even begin to explain in words just how proud I am of her. Everyone has been saying that it's only a matter of time before Azzi starts to contribute (not that she didn't contribute in the Oregon State game) but Azzi didn't just contribute last night; was definitely the biggest (not the only of course) reason we won. It was a one-possession game and momentum was without a doubt on Ole Miss's side and Azzi said fuck all of that and gave UConn an 8-pt cushion all by herself. And what won't reflect on the box-score is that her scoring those points did two things: it deflated Ole Miss and it energized UConn. She was just so good offensively and defensively; just an all-around performance and I'm just so incredibly proud. And you know what the best part is? Those 3s ain't even falling yet.

Casual 29 points for the NPOY, no biggie just Paige doing Paige things except you know MY Paige doesn't normally get 5 turnovers...jk jk because honestly she only should have had 3 (still "high" for her standard but also that's what Ole Miss hangs their hat on). That 1st half and that 4th quarter were just things of beauty. That's what you need your leader to do, set the tone and then finish things off. AND SHE FINALLY GOT SOME FTS!!

Sarah looked really good in the first half and then when Ole Miss got going, she looked a little shaken in the second half, emphasis on the little shaken because it was only really in terms of scoring, she was still doing all the little things. I've seen some discourse and I personally don't want Sarah to stop taking 3s because it's not like she takes bad ones and I think they're gonna fall and we need them to fall and they're not gonna fall if she stops taking them.

JANA!! She had some clutch has hell rebounds and some much-needed shots. I thought she had a really good game and a near double-double. She just looked really energized out there and I think she's only going to get better.

Ice had a up and down game. She definitely did a couple of things that frustrated me but also made some solid plays. I would have definitely liked a couple more points and a couple more rebounds but I think the hustle, that's been prevalent the last few games, is still there.

Ash needed more shots which is partially on her but also I feel like she was getting plays ran for AND her teammates weren't doing the best job of finding her. It feels like the aggression, particularly on offense, of the first two games had dwindled a little bit and she's in a bit of a slump. Also two of Paige's 5 turnovers, probably belong to her because girl what was you doing?

We definitely need more point production from KC but I thought she had a very stabilizing presence last night and did a pretty good job running the offense in the 4th.

KK hadn't made me want to scream at her for driving into traffic and getting blocked like clockwork in a couple of games and so of course OF COURSE she had to do it last night. But I do think she matched Ole Miss's energy well and I liked that one drive she had. She needs to look to score like that more.

Which brings me back to that KC-KK discourse, I still think the KK-Paige-Azzi-Sarah-Jana/Ice lineup is our strongest but I also did really like the KC-Paige-Azzi-Sarah-Jana that we used to end the game and was I believe the prominent lineup throughout the 2nd half. So I think my general opinion is that it doesn't matter who starts because ultimately it's gonna be a opponent-driven decision and it's good to have that option.

I love Paige and Azzi and I love that they had good games but I'm ngl, looking at that box score and seeing so many people with only 2 pts did not please me at all.

Blowing leads is becoming a recurring thing and as much as I think it's good character building for this team right now because as Geno says you learn more from overcoming the Ole Miss run than if you had stretched it 30, it is a little concerning that it's a bit of a pattern. And again this is only their 5th game and it was their first true test and also ofc only their 3rd having Azzi so I'm not necessarily super worried, but it is something I'mma keep my eye on.

But overall I'm just really proud of this team. They got punched in the 3rd and they punched back and I'm hoping to see a lot more punching in the upcoming games.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Hi!

I have a request for FellSwap Gold bros, UnderSwap bros, and Underfell Bros x SUPER shy reader!!

Reader having really bad social anxiety, has a hard time speaking up and is just super quiet, and just generally nervous all the time due to past trauma.

How do you think the skeletons would act towards an S/O being so shy??

Featuring: Sky, Honey, Red, Edge, Wine and Coffee.

Masterlist

Sky

You remind him of his brother a bit.. not completely since you two have a lot of differences yet it's probably the shy personality.

He has no problem with you being shy! He just wished you'd talk more when you two go out.. oh wait yeah you're socially anxious.

Sky does his best to keep you relaxed, he hates seeing people he loves nervous or anxious, he just hopes the methods he uses with his brother work with you too..

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he'll feel honored, people only do this kind of thing when they trust each other, and to know you trust him enough to talk about traumatic things that have affected you in the past.. it makes him feel like he's one of the most important persons to you.

Please tell him if anything is bothering you, he doesn't want to see you uncomfortable nor panicked.

Honey

"Welcome to the club sweetheart.."

Honey also has a hard type speaking up, more with strangers than with people he's friends with, and his anxiety doesn't help much.

So, why not help each other out?

He's not the best, yet he's always there to listen to you if you'd like, and he'd be very happy if you'd hear him too.

At the end of the day, the books he writes are a distraction- an escape from reality he found to both make money and to do something he enjoys, so maybe you can find something to distract you too?

Your shyness doesn't bother him, if anything it's something he knows is a part of you, and he's always by your side when he can.

Red

Oh well, guess you two aren't really leaving the house..

Red doesn't really like leaving his house, so if he isn't working he's most definitely chilling on the couch.

He's not the best at giving advice, damn, the last time he gave someone advice that person tried to poison him, yet he'll be happy to listen to you if you're ever comfortable enough to do it.

Your shyness and quietness doesn't bother him in the least, it feels kinda good to just.. rant to you about work while cuddling y'know?

"Ya may not even realize, yet cha' make me the happiest skeleton in all earth sweetheart."

Edge

He's the literal opposite of you.

Edge has a talk with you, asking if you would like to have some therapy sessions, and if you agree he's already paying for it.

Tries to convince you to leave the house when he's not working and the weather is good, he doesn't force you but he'd be happy when you successfully socialize with someone, even just a little bit.

Stands up for you, no matter the situation. He's pretty famous because of his cooking you know? Who's gonna turn him down huh? One word and a security guard will take that person away.

He isn't someone to give advice about trauma, if anything he'd much rather hear you trauma-dump, that way he can find the best way to try and help.

Wine

His brother's just like you. He already knows what to do.

Won't force you to leave the house if you don't want to, yet he'll "reward" you with small things when you do, buying ice cream, plushies you want, books or video games if you like them.. you get the deal.

Something he noticed was wherever you go, his brother follows, guess Coffee finally found someone like him huh?

If someone even dares to be slightly rude towards you, Wine makes sure that person won't ever bother you again.

Anything you tell him, he'll give advice, no matter what it is.

Coffee

He's EXACTLY like you.

Coffee has a really bad social anxiety and has a hard time feeling comfortable to talk, so he mostly communicates by notes!

May influence you to do the same as him...

Doesn't bother him that you're quiet, quite the opposite actually, after hearing Rus and Cash ramble for HOURS on the swap papyruses reunion, he couldn't beg more for some silent cuddles with his loved one.

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he's going to listen, even if he doesn't give the best advice.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

chasing infinity

@howlsofbloodhounds for you my most enabling moot. i think this is way harder to write than anything i've written before so...

shamelessly ripping off arrival (2016) and story of your life. go watch/read it!!

(cw: suicidal ideation, abuse)

chara is about to turn their back on me as they excitedly go on and on about another game that they've thought of. i want to imprint every detail of this moment in my mind. the cadence of their cheerful speech, the unsuspecting smile on their face, the weight of my knife hidden in the sleeves of my jacket.

this is it. this is when it will all change. an end of a story, and a beginning of another one.

years from now, you'll have heard of this moment recounted by me. we will be sitting in a cafe at the corner of a small street as i finish my story. i will laugh at the gobsmacked expression on your face, and you'll splutter, your rainbow-colored flames sparkling like fireworks.

"what type of story is that?" you'll ask me.

"a tragedy," i'll say, sipping on my piping hot milk coffee. "as life is wont to be."

you'll argue that reality is not a story with a definitive end, and i'll humor you. i can't help but wonder though, what the genre of our story is. i've been wondering for a while. i know how the story will end - i've known for a while. in thousands of you's and me's out there, our story repeats itself over and over again, but i don't think i was, am, and will be tired of it. i wish i could tell you about our story some day, but we'll never have the chance.

i haven't understood how to feel about it, and i doubt i will ever do either.

i guess it is cliche to start the story at the very beginning, but maybe it is warranted. it was disorienting - the moment of birth. the softness of the golden flowers enveloped me, but it was small comfort in the face of the pain shooting across my body. everything about it felt wrong - the broken joints, the hollow face, the nakedness. and yet, it was right.

people say babies are born with limited eyesight that develop slowly after time. but i am doomed to forever be cocooned in infancy - a broken prototype of a being, just good enough to be allowed to exist with the rest of the world.

chara didn't mind me. "hello, partner," they said to me, minutes after i started to exist. i couldn't see them, only able to hear to voice so close to my head. "are you ready for the rest of your life?"

the secret is, i'm always ready. like that one time your friend delta will begrudgingly invite both of us to a hangout, i'll grab an umbrella on my way out. delta will look at me strangely.

"it's scorching today. what are you taking an umbrella for?" he'll ask.

"killer often has a sixth sense when it comes to unexpected things," you'll chime in for me. "and it doesn't hurt being prepared."

delta will squint his eyes at me, who will sport a not-so-innocent smile. "really?"

"really," you'll say before i can say anything, knowing that i'd cause a scene just outside the door just to rile the hotheaded skeleton monster up. "let's just go now, shall we?"

we'll leave our house that we'll have chosen together just three months before. the food at the bar that delta will bring us to will be just average, but you'll enjoy the atmosphere too much for me to say any disparaging comments. we'll sit together in a secluded booth - just the two of us - listening to terrible music and watching as the first snow rain fall down on the street. your hand will hold mine as i'll put my head on your shoulders, finally still.

waterfall is chara's favorite place to visit after new home. there is that one statue in the rainy corridor that they like to visit from time to time, most of the times without me. it is easy to tell that is a weakness to look into, but for some reasons i always refrained myself from doing so. too late now anyway.

like usual, chara took two umbrellas in the bin but neither of them was for me. i was ordered to leave them for an indefinite amount of time, and of course i had to be productive during that free time: finding flowey, finding the remaining survivors, finding new ways to entertain chara.

i went to the echo flower field this time. the usual scripted dialogue lines repeated themselves over and over across the field. i was trying to find anything new, anything that would indicate another change in this game, in this script, that would intrigue chara. this time, i found one.

"hey, do you think we're stuck here forever?"

"why would you think so?"

"... i don't know. it's just a feeling i have lately. everything's been too much."

"... yeah, i understand what you mean. but hey! maybe this won't be the end! maybe we'll get through this." a strained laughter followed. "come on, you're such a pessimist. it's good to practice some radical optimism once in a while, you know?"

"maybe. it's just difficult to have hope when everything is so, well, hopeless." silence. and then, "if you knew this would happen, what would you have done differently?"

"hmm i don't know-"

"-maybe i'd have tried to visit people i love more. tell them what i feel before, well, this happened."

"that's all you'd do?"

"like i said! i don't know what i'd have done. you're the one randomly asking me this!"

"mmmm sorry..."

"hey, no need to apologize. i know you're just as anxious about this as i am."

"don't want to make you feel sad, habibi."

"i'm not. being with you, it's the best thing to happen to me. i wouldn't have done anything differently."

it will be a full four years after we start to live together that you say the word. and i'll freeze. the world will stop as if waiting for what i'll say back to you.

"i love you too," i'll say, and you'll beam, arms carefully hugging my smaller body. i don't know what emotions i'll be feeling at that moment. logically, happiness. most likely, guilt.

i'll be thinking about what i think right now, and i'll laugh at it.

the medics will tell me that it is an inevitable conclusion of your condition, that they are extremely sorry for me to hear this. i'll tell them it's all fine, that i've expected this. and i'll know they won't believe me.

i know illnesses like i know my own body and soul - there's no difference between them. i remember the way the insides of my body burned for the first time, the agony, the delirium. it felt wrong, but it was so right at the same time. this was how i was supposed to be - this is how i will always be. and i've accepted that a long time ago.

chara once used my body as a flower bed. strangely, it was one of the most peaceful game they played with me. just lie there in the dirt and play dead - easy enough. the way the dirt was deposited into my skeleton frame was uncomfortable, but thankfully not painful. chara has always been interested in gardening, but they lack the patience for it. but this time, as they said, this time they would get it right.

"what do you want to grow?" i'd asked them before all of this, as i prepared to lie down in the pit i'd dug for myself with my bare fingers. it'd taken a long while, and my fingers were all sore and dirty by the time i was done.

"buttercups," chara hummed. "i miss them around here. asgore never has them anymore."

i didn't question how chara knew. i didn't question why they cared. i just accepted the answer as it was and plopped my body beneath the dirt. chara had taken care to put my soul somewhere else. somewhere safe. it was nice of them to do so, i thought.

my body, with all its needs, was nothing but a burden anyway.

i don't know if being with you will fix me. i don't know if you care about it. i don't understand you, truly. i wonder if i will.

but i don't have infinite time to think. the world doesn't stop when i languish in thoughts. i'll have infinite time later, but never now.

so i'll remember this moment - this last moment between me and a dead child who has been here for too long. i knew this would happen, that everything would come to this point. and then after this, there will be more to come. there will always be more to come. so i hold my knife above chara's head as their back is fully turned. after them, there will be another, then another, then another, then one day it will be you.

i can't wait to see you.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

can i pretty pls request a fluffy nash oneshot 🙏🏻

one with banter somewhat similar to how he and libby talk 🙏🏻 (in the tiny moments we get of them ���)

thank you so much for this request!! I know it was requested a while ago, so sorry it’s taken me this long. I gave it a go, but I don’t think I hit the nail right on the head with what you requested, sorry!!

title: comfort from a cowboy

pairing: nash hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you had a not-so-nice interview and nash comforts you

warnings:

a/n: for @kit4strophe 💖💖

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast

My head rests against the hard wall behind me and I’ve been sat on the floor for so long my bum has gone numb. But I can’t be bothered to get up and move, I don’t have enough energy.

I replay the interview - or should I call it an interrogation - that had happened just a few hours earlier. It’s been on a sort of loop in my brain for a while now. The same blood boiling questions over and over and over. I never want to go through that again.

I hear my door open which is odd because when it’s shut usual no one bothers me, they know better than to. I don’t open my eyes immediately. I play a little game with myself, a silent game - ‘who is at the door’. Jameson? Unlikely. Grayson? Almost a definite no. Alisa? Don’t see it happening. Xander? A possibility. Nash? I doubted it. Avery? Wouldn’t be surprised. Oren? Only if there’s an emergency. Libby? Most likely.

I open my eyes and to my surprise my guess is annoyingly wrong. Usually I’m quite good at guessing games but I supposed today was an exception. Maybe it’s because there’s so much on my mind.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, scrunching up my nose at the sight of a certain texan cowboy motorcyclist.

“Careful,” he warns, the corners of his lips turning up in the slightest way, as he saunters in and sits down beside me, “you almost look happy to see me.”

“What are you doing here?” I repeat, not really in the mood for his games or anyone’s games for that matter.

“Sitting beside you,” he replies simply.

I narrow my eyes and shoot him a look, “don’t be cryptic.”

“You asked,” Nash shrugs, acting so laid back he was nearly horizontal.

“Why are you here?” I rephrase sharply, a tone he couldn’t ignore or twist or make light of.

“To make sure you’re alright,” he answers me earnestly, something in his deep hazel eyes that resembled concern.

“Well I’m fine, there we go,” I say shortly, “end of story, goodbye, the door is to your left.”

I close my eyes again and tilt my head back to rest on the wall, assuming he’d leave at my finalisation.

“I’m very aware of where the door is,” he drawls, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to use it.”

I internally scream in frustration and then open my eyes to meet his.

“Look I’m not in the mood for socialising right now,” I explain, trying hard not to sound too angry and defensive otherwise me might keep prying.

Nash is understanding. If I told him this, maybe he’d understand a kindly leave me be.

“You don’t have to socialise with me,” he says calmly, the soothing quality of his voice making it almost impossible for me to be mad at him.

“Fine,” I snap, standing up and perching myself on the end of my bed.

I won’t socialise. He can sit there bored out of his mind for all I care, in fact I hope he does. I lay back on the bed my head hitting the mattress with a soft thud. I want to sleep and rid myself of being such a prisoner to my own thoughts but for some reason I can’t bring myself to. And I know that reason is called Nash Hawthorne.

“Say something,” I groan sitting up.

If we have the conversation he so clearly wants, then he would leave, then I could sleep. Simple.

“What?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just say something,” I exasperate, “the silence is killing me.”

A small smirk plays on his lips, “what happened to no socialising?”

“Just shut up and stay something,” I nearly yell.

“That phrase is one confusing oxymoron,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You’re a moron,” I reply, snarkily.

He laughs at me. It was a real laugh, not a pity one. His eyes are lit up and the smile fills his face. It is a pretty laugh, I think that’s what annoys me the most. I liked it.

“Tell me something,” I press on, “anything.”

He pauses for a minute. And then another. And then another. Until the pause is so long I wonder if he’s going to talk at all. Slowly he makes his way beside me again and looks deep into my eyes like he can read them.

“You don’t like all this,” he begins, “you didn’t ask for it, you wish you could go back to your old life but feel selfish and guilty to wish that because people would die to be in your situation.”

I try not to betray my shock but I’m awful at hiding my thoughts and feelings. My face probably says it all. Part of me is angry. He shouldn’t know this. I shouldn’t be this easy to read. It’s not fair. The other part is touched that someone care this much.

I fold my arms protectively across my chest and raise my eyebrows, “and who are you to tell me that?”

“An observer,” he says, almost gently.

“Stop observing me,” I tell him, “I’m not a project.”

“Oh I would never dream of considering you a project,” he replies, his voice deep in the back of his throat.

I move in closer, pinning him with an accusing look, “then what do you consider me?”

“Hold your horses, darlin’, I’m asking the questions here,” Nash grins, something about the way the light sparkles in his eyes gets under my skin.

“Says who? And don’t call me darling,” I tell him bluntly.

“Says me,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

He doesn’t add a darlin’ on the end and part of me respects him for that. If I’d been talking to anyone else they probably would’ve tried to piss me off even more. But Nash isn’t like that, he never has been.

“Well I don’t care what you have to say,” I quip.

“I never asked you to care,” he replies, his voice reminding me of a waveless sea.

I glance at him and find his eyes are already on me, I exhale slowly and ask him one more time, “why are you here?”

“To make sure you’re okay,” he answers in an instant. No double meanings, no puzzles, no avoidance, just a straight answer. But it takes me by surprise just as much.

I try to cover my true feelings, “why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I saw it,” Nash tells me softly, apology decadently laced through his eyes.

He was referring to the interview of course. I didn’t know he watched mine like I watched his.

“I told you not to watch,” I scowl.

“I’m not very good at listening,” he shrugs.

“Clearly,” I roll my eyes, playing with the fabric of my jumper sleeve to avoid looking at him.

“So are you okay?” he asks, again his voice stole that gentle tone that made my heart melt into mush.

“I’m fine,” I reply, keeping my tone cold and hard.

Of course I’m not fine. I am anything but fine. But saying you’re fine is so much easier than talking through the hard parts, the truth. And sometimes if you pretend it’s fine for long enough you can trick yourself into believing it too.

“I know what happened,” he reminds me with a tenderness that made my limbs ache to curl against his body.

“And I’m fine,” I say sharply, still in denial, still trying to be too stubborn for my own good.

“Well now you’ve told me twice it makes it all the more real,” he barks out a laugh.

I roll my eyes.

“Why do you care so much anyway,” I scoff.

“You’re important.”

The answer is lightning fast, almost like a reaction. It doesn’t have to be thought about, pondered or even considered. It’s just engraved into his brain as the thing that feels more natural, the most ‘right’ to reply with.

“What?”

“You’re important and I care that you’re okay,” he says.

I don’t know what mix of emotions hit my chest, I just know they hit with an impact that knocks all the air out of my lungs. He cares. I’m important to him. He wants to know I’m okay.

“What are you hiding under that cowboy hat?”

He almost chokes on his own spit in surprise. Then gain composure and leans back, raising an eyebrow, “you’re changing the subject?”

“Answer my question,” I demand, narrowing my eyes.

“What do you mean what am I hiding under my cowboy hat?” he muses with a sweet small smile.

“Well you have it on 24/7,” I explain, “so I presume you’re hiding something.”

“Just because something is covered up doesn’t mean it’s hiding something,” he says ,”and it goes both ways, just because something looks normal doesn’t mean it’s not hiding something.”

I have a feeling he’s not talking about cowboy hats anymore.

“I did what I had to do,” I reply.

“Stayed silent?” he asked.

“It was better,” I press on.

A flicker of rage flashes through his face, “people don’t get to talk to you like that.”

“I know,” I yell back.

“Then why did you let them,” he asks me, annoying not raising his voice to escalate the situation.

I fancy a good yelling match in this moment with all the anger built up inside of me, he can see that and he isn’t giving in. I can’t tell if I like him more for doing that or not.

“Not every battle is worth fighting,” I snap back, “you should know that better than anyone.”

“I do,” he replies, almost cautiously, “but some are.”

“If people see you’ll fight everything you throw at them they will use that against you,” I tell him, “if you act unbothered in the first place you can surprise them one day and fight back.”

“You’re a tactical thinker,” Nash comments.

“Who cares what I am?” I reply.

His voice softens with every feature of his face, “I care.”

And there it is again. That mix of emotions with impact just hurling towards my chest. I never know what to say, it steals all my words before I get to say them. So silence consumes us, as if we’re two eskimos dead in the snow, the frostbite gnawing at our frozen bodies.

“You don’t have to act tough in front of me darlin, I can see right through you,” he murmurs, so softly I wonder why I didn’t just melt on the spot.

“Don’t call me darling,” I snap, avoiding his eyes.

I’m worried if I look into them I’ll tell him everything. And I can’t risk pouring everything out, not when I’ve hidden it so well for this long.

“I’m here,” he says desperately.

I feel as his hand clasps around mine, giving it two squeezes. Reassurance. My heart pounds in my chest. I want to tell him, I want to be free of my problems, I want someone to help me. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.

“I know,” I pause for a long while and he lets me, “it’s just hard.”

My voice cracks at the last word. After being so steady for so long it was bound to happen at some point.

“I know,” he says delicately, “believe me, I know.”

I let one tear slip down my cheek but as it rolls down, for my dignity he pretends not to notice. Always a gentleman.!

“I hate people,” I whisper, “they really suck.”

It was all I could manage without completely breaking down.

“I hate people too,” he agrees. I let him put an arm around me and I hesitantly lean into his chest.

I make a strangled laughing sound, “we should start a club.”

He sighs and quietly asks, “do you want to leave this place?”

“No,” I hesitate slightly, “and yes, but I’m not going to.”

“Is that what you really want?” Nash asks earnestly, a kind look in his eyes that is rare to find in any human being.

“Yeah, for now,” I nod.

“Good,” he says, “I’m glad you’re staying.”

“You’d miss me if I was gone?” I look up to him and raise my eyebrows.

“Of course,” he replies, “you’re one of us, your family now.”

I smile, my cheeks warming up to tint a rosy colour. I sniff as I let him wipe my final tear away with the soft pad of him thumb. There’s a moment that we lock eyes and neither of us dare look away. We both are very still. It’s like time isn’t moving.

When his thumb finally leaves my cheek all I can think about is how I want his touch there again. It’s like I need it now. Like how a drug addict craves a needle in their arm. The absence of that feeling of his skin on mine is horrible.

“Besides who will I have to call me a moron if you go away,” he jokes, tilting his cowboy hat towards me.

“You are pure cheek Nash Hawthorne,” I poke my tongue out.

“I’ve heard that one before in many different contexts,” he smirks with a wink.

Who knew Nash Hawthorne looked so good when he winked?

I gape in shock, “who knew you could make crude jokes!?”

“I may be the eldest and most responsible but who do you think taught everything to Jamie?” he asks.

“I’d never thought of that before,” I reply.

He shrugs in a very Nash kind of way, “welcome to the inner workings of being a Hawthorne.”

“Should I be flattered to be so privy to such important information?” I grin batting my eyelashes at him.

He moves in, “that depends on how much you value it.”

Our faces are inches apart. I feel something in my chest. Aside from my heart racing, there’s a feeling deep within my heart. It’s warm and tingly and tender. It’s sweet but bitter at the same time, and yet I still crave it.

“Let’s make a deal,” he whispers, our noses so close they could be touching.

“Is this a Hawthorne kind of deal?” I question in a murmur.

“Well what other kind of deal would it be,” Nash says, pulling back a little disappointing me slightly.

Still, I raise an eyebrow and cock my head to the side telling him to continue

“You don’t put up your wall anymore and you talk to me about your problems,” he proposes.

“A deal has two sides Hawthorne,” I remind him.

“Indeed it does,” he nods, “so name your price.”

“You learn when to shut up,” I say.

“What?”

“When I say I’m not in the mood for socialising understand it and move on,” I reply.

I wouldn’t be having the conversation if he’d just left me alone to start with. Not that I’m complaining, this conversation is rapidly becoming my favourite yet, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Deal.”

We take each others hands and with a firm shake the deal is bound.

“Starts today,” Nash adds, “now.”

“Perfect,” I smile mischievously, “then I think you should stop talking.”

“See I don’t think I-“

“Shhhh,” I shush him.

“But-“

“Shut up.”

“Mouth is shut!” he exclaims trying not to laugh.

“Forever?” I challenge.

“Can’t keep me quiet for that long darlin’,” he drawls.

“I can try,” I reply.

“You’re setting yourself up for failure,” he sing songs.

I put my finger on his lips and this time physically he can’t suppress him smile.

“How does failure taste?” I murmur.

“Like something you’ll enjoy,” he counters, talking against my fingertips. I can’t help but grin.

“Wanna get out of here for a bit, get some fresh air?” he asks me.

“Do I,” I sigh, dropping my hand from his mouth, relieved he finally asked

“Come on darlin’,” Nash says.

I don’t tell him not to call me darling. In fact it’s growing on me. He holds my hands, they’re warm against my cold palms and gently pulls me off of the bed.

“Where are we going?” I stand up, tilting my head to the side in question.

He flashes me a grin, “how do you feel about motorcycle rides?”

I did my research girl 🤭🤭 a little reread of tig never hurt anyone and the libby/nash content is too cute!! I feel like I didn’t really capture the right kind of banter because it was more sensitive so maybe I’ll do another one with more banter, so sorry about that xx hope you enjoyed anywaysss and thanks for your request

[lambouillet]

I'm actually so glad to have talked to people, who knew just being brave enough to say something was enough to get people talking atleast.

Im definitely not the most eloquent person, i just ramble on until something comprehensible comes out, but as I am very passionate when it comes to worldbuilding story and narrative, because theres just so so much about cults that goes underutilized, its history, its relationship with the state, the mysticism, the people in them, it all can tie into something much richer if you took the time to not just know more, but to understand deeply, I promise you that being curious and empathetic does wonders when it comes to storytelling, you have to care about other people to be a good storyteller. You're not being reprimanded when the people you're writing about want to educate you on these things.

And It really does nothing but harm people who may want to acknowledge the very ugly underbelly of what is, in the title, a cult and dismiss it just because you personally find it uncomfortable, Its actually very very shameful especially for the fact you have no way of knowing what the other's background is.

Take it from me, alright? Ive already said it a hundred times but the game did resonate alot with me because i grew up with a very specific brand of folk Catholicism + spirituality in a country thats already very much controlled by religion and god that ended up impacting a large part of my life. While im not gonna go into specifics, the abuse that comes from it is very very real and something i can't get rid of. Its something i hope to portray well in all my work and will talk about extensively, even in a humorous lense.

[pianokantzart]

Do you think it was a bit sad that in the first Mario movie, Mario himself had very little in the way of interactions with Bowser? Bowser is Mario's arch frenemy, yet in the movie Mario spends a lot more time bickering with Donkey Kong.

To me, Mario and Bowser have one of the most interesting hero/villain relationships and I just wanna know if they would ever try and tackle the age old question of "Why does Mario trust Bowser enough to invite him to golfing tournaments?" and try to answer that in a way that makes sense.

Not really. I think their relationship is good groundwork to expand upon in future movies, but wasn't crucial to the first movie's plot.

The thing is, Mario and Bowser in the games are an old and well-established rivalry at this point, with an undercurrent of mutual respect between them despite everything that goes on between their kingdoms.

In the movie, Mario is nothing to Bowser except an annoying interloper vying for Peach's affection; a height-deficient nobody who's utterly beneath him.

Because of this, Bowser attempts to leave the dirty work of disposing of Mario to his soldiers, and ends up playing more the role he took in the early Mario games, that being "looming presence you never really fight until the final act."

Plus, it's worth mentioning that Movie Bowser ranks a little higher on the "evil" scale than his game counterpart. Even if Mario and Bowser end up interacting more in future installments (which I definitely hope they do), I wouldn't count on them being frenemies.

Maybe hesitant allies if the situation is dire enough, but keep in mind Bowser tried to incinerate Luigi for no real reason other than sheer spite.

He is NOT getting an invitation to race go-karts.

[kiragecko]

So, it's the early 2000s. I'm hanging out with the first friend I've managed to make in half a decade, my now-husband. We're both trying to make good impressions, because friendship is hard! Now-Husband does this through the evergreen autistic method of 'let's share my special interest'.

(I would later do the exact same thing, slightly more successfully, with the Discworld books. This can be a good method!)

He does have enough social awareness to realize that sticking me in front of the Final Fantasy VII video game will not work. But, Advent Children is a MOVIE! He can share THAT with me!

-

Now, a more social aware person might ask themselves (and maybe even me) some questions first. Questions like:

Has Gecko ever played a video game?

(Answer: Yes, I have played parts of Super Mario World and two Donkey Kong Countries! Also, a snakey Tetris clone?)

Has Gecko ever watched an anime?

(Answer: No.)

Has Gecko ever had ANY interaction with Japanese bullshit, and it's differences from English bullshit?

(Answer: I have read one manga at this point, W Juliet.)

Does Gecko even know what an RPG IS?

(Answer: No. If the acronym was expanded I would think you were talking about D&D.)

Can Gecko watch things with subtitles?

(Answer: Unknown, but I'm about to find out!)

Does Gecko actually enjoy movies?

(Answer: At the time, I would have said yes. I had been taught to ignore a lot of pain back then, and didn't realize they were sensory nightmares.)

Is this movie a good fic for newcomers to the franchise?

(Answer: Unhinged laughter.)

-

We watched Advent Children.

-

The saving grace of this experience was that Now-Husband LIKES explaining stuff! He got to explain a LOT of stuff. And it was VERY interesting to watch someone try to figure out how to explain,

"Your guess might technically be correct for this movie, but it wasn't that way in the game! ... I don't think. And it's not what I think they're trying to imply! ... It might actually be a plot hole. Or maybe we just missed something with the bad lighting? But also, I'm realizing, in real time, how many of my interpretations are actually fanon and I'm questioning everything!"

And there was a pseudo-vampire. I will never get over Vincent. Every moment of Vincent was overdramatic, trying-to-hard-to-be-cool BULLSHIT. I loved it! Vincent was very easy to understand!

-

The plot of Advent Children, according to Gecko:

The main(?) characters are in a flower church and Aerith glows and rises into the air in a clear death metaphor. Or maybe actually dies? (I was mostly scared all the stained glass would break.)

Cloud and his Large Sword fights the One Winged Angel Music Guy multiple times. Reasons unclear.

FAKE VAMPIRE SHOWS UP AND THINKS HE'S SO COOL! HA HA! I LOVE THE DUMB FAKE VAMPIRE. LOOK AT HIM POSE!

I definitely saw Tifa and Barrett at some point, but I don't even have memories of thinking, "Oh, he is a DADDY! THERE IS A CUTE KID!" So they failed big time, there.

The End.

[brionysea]

Is it just me or did Vi really not get an arc this season 😭? She doesn’t resolve the fact that she places all her worth on protecting those she loves. A lot of her big emotional beats (joining the enforcers, becoming a pit fighter, finding Vander, freeing Jinx and getting imprisoned for all her efforts) happened as a result of Caitlyn or Jinx’s intervention. She has so much oldest sister syndrome she infected the narrative 😇

yes! I think it's an issue of flawed ideas and poor execution. in classic me fashion, I'll go through the whole thing to show you what I mean:

vi joining the enforcers despite everything they've done to her (killing her parents, roughing up her family as kids, chasing them down, coming into the last drop to arrest them and intimidating everyone and almost taking powder, imprisoning and abusing and starving vi for her entire adolescence) because caitlyn asked her to and caitlyn is the Most Important Person in her life right now is the exact kind of thing vi would do. I personally love how temporary the enforcer gig is, despite that going against the lore (I honestly couldn't care less), because vi's CHARACTER in this show goes against the lore. I don't care that she's supposed to be an enforcer in the game. I'm not playing a game. I'm watching a show. the vi I know wouldn't do that, it makes no sense for her character, and it really feels like that's the point. she's losing herself for the sake of what caitlyn wants in a very clever way to address whoever demanded the show be more accurate to the game (which, again, I AM NOT PLAYING. BECAUSE THIS IS A SHOW THAT'S MORE THAN CAPABLE OF STANDING ON ITS OWN) without betraying the characters. this is the kind of freedom that would have made for a truly stellar season: going where the story is led naturally by its characters rather than being trapped by a pre-determined narrative

then in vi's fight with jinx (which, fine, I guess vi *would* decide that 'jinx isn't powder anymore' means 'my sister is dead'; she's single minded like that, even if it felt rushed), there's suddenly a random child in the crossfire and vi's like oh. okay. I can't actually hurt innocent children the way I was hurt. I do, in fact, have principles, and they dictate that I intervene rather than allow this to play out. and it turns out that when the chips are down caitlyn doesn't actually care about the undercity because she risked killing an innocent child and wants to kill jinx knowing she's vi's sister (and said that jinx, a young mentally ill girl from the undercity, killing caitlyn's mother, one of the richest and most powerful women in piltover, is the same as vi's parents being killed by enforcers while fighting to end the oppressive social order they enforce. it's not.) and basically says that she thought vi was 'one of the good ones' but she's exactly like all those other animals (again, because vi refused to let cait open fire on a child), before literally gut-punching her and leaving her there. vi was right before, they're oil and water, they're too different. and now vi's lost her sister; lost cait; the rest of her family is still dead. she has no money. no power. nowhere to go. nobody to protect. what's even the point of her?

and then we reach the second act. vi has no purpose so she's like well I'm just gonna fight people for money. because she'll win. obviously. she's a mess, she's drinking all the time, she's seeing jinx and caitlyn everywhere (people really breeze over how vi sees things too - definitely to a lesser degree than jinx, but when she hits rock bottom, it's there). I love this set up for vi. it makes so much sense that putting all her energy into caring for others would end up here. like a message from the universe that she needs to learn to do things for herself or she'll always end up back in this hole. you could argue that vi not having a lot of agency and just following jinx or caitlyn around until she ends up stuck in that cell (her ✨️ prison of the mind ✨️ or whatever jinx's imaginary, out of character, ghost silco was talking about), while boring (so boring), is more of vi being stubborn and stuck in her ways and refusing to learn her lesson until she's forced to. which she was also like in season 1, except there, it was more like vi repeatedly trying to solve problems that were much too big to be punched away by punching them (vi thought jinx could brute force her way out of being traumatised), and even then, I didn't get the impression that vi cared enough about the council to actually give up on jinx because of what she did to them. vi's a brick wall of a woman. sometimes, in this bitch of a world, stubbornness is a virtue

the problem, like a lot of things that had potential in season 2, is that it's not actually followed through on. there's no self actualisation for vi. she just cares about jinx until she doesn't and then she has sex with cait (who does not actually atone for any of the shit she did btw) in the prison cell where vi's sister was just planning suicide and is currently going through with it elsewhere, as far as vi knows

I think the intention was for vi having sex with cait instead of chasing after jinx to be the first selfish thing in her life (which jinx basically told her to do, because no one hates piltover anymore even though they haven't changed at all or done anything to earn this 'meet us halfway' demand of feeling entitled to zaun's bodies for their war after poisoning those same bodies for who knows how long. jinx never called vi an idiot for dating an enforcer. in fact, she feels bad for nuking the council :( which means she's good now! 👍 because GOOD characters are NICE to piltover and only BIG MEANIES care about zaun's independence. even silco's ghost thinks it's a waste of time! apparently he was just bitter and unloved, like a child throwing a tantrum! sure. sure! why not!), but it falls apart immediately because 1) jinx told vi she's going to kill herself (vi knew what jinx was planning before she asked, you can hear the fear in her voice), which obviously takes priority - never in a million years would vi let jinx disappear like that without doing anything about it, no matter how self actualised she is, because STOPPING YOUR SISTER FROM COMMITTING SUICIDE IS A NORMAL THING TO DO. well, maybe not normal, but you know what I mean. it's not exclusively a vi-ism. it's common sense. if someone you love tells you they're going to commit suicide, you do everything in your power to prevent it. and 2) CAIT IS NOT ACTUALLY REDEEMED FROM ALL THE SHIT SHE DID TO THE UNDERCITY. yes, cait letting jinx escape was symbolic of her letting go of the obsession that drove her to that point, but she didn't actually hurt jinx (except now jinx is free to off herself because of cait, which vi would be angry about if she hadn't spontaneously forgotten what she learned in the previous scene). despite her personal vendetta, cait couldn't catch jinx to even attempt to hurt her. who she DID hurt was the undercity at large, and she has no way of making up for that. they dropped the zaun plotline like a hot potato so there's no narrative opportunity for cait to prove to vi (and to the audience) that she gets it now. that she's done being a fascist and vi isn't just blinded by her hotness (which would be a strange angle to take but that's honestly what it seems like. it's so shallow and out of place with everything going on). none of this is earned enough for vi to choose a quickie in a cell over stopping her suicidal sister from blowing herself up

TLDR; there was an attempt at an arc, which was foiled by tying it so closely to caitvi, which was tied to the politics of the piltover-zaun conflict, which was never resolved and thus made vi's arc feel unsatisfying

[luvleir]

whenever someone rightfully argues that Curly did not do his job to protect Anya like he claims he would do for her and the whole crew, someone always hits you with ohh it was a difficult situation, jimber yimpy could’ve acted out/hurt anya, they’re all in one ship, they can’t report it cuz pay blah blah oml someone even went to say that no one would know what to do in that situation because finding out his friend did that to someone must be hard BRO?? YK WHATS HARDER??? WHAT ANYAS GOING THROUGH???

very weird that everyone goes to defend Curly so EASILYY and don’t get me wrong i still don’t paint Curly NEARLYY as bad as jimbilimy ofc not, what junky did was monstrous and inhumane, Curly was just a bystander and that loses the respect anyone can have for him but he’s not as bad as jimmy I MEAN jumbo i’m running out of variations

but oml so many of y’all missed the POINTTT ofc it’s an uneasy situation you’re trapped in one ship in space which is half the reason this situation came to be in the first place, but not even pointing out the fact there are several risky but better than NOTHING solutions, the point isn’t what was best to do, the point is CURLY DID NOTHINGG that’s the problem. like i CANNOT get around the curly x anya ship (at least post crash curly and anya) he clearly cannot protect her oh well at least not when it comes to his best bestie jimber me timbers. and people still go wait nooo…. he had it hard guys…. he didn’t know what to do… poor curly fries :(( now he watches his crew die :((( yeah and that’s WHAT? the consequences of his actionsss why are we more sympathetic of curlyyy and not anyaaa like WHATTT….

im sure Curly was a decent guy but he did not TAKE RESPONSIBILITY (i did the thing) and that was just a testing moment that he most definitely failed. not to mention when anya tells him and he asks who she says “i told you,” which i never fully understand, but im assuming this refers to the fact she has maybe off-screen expressed being uncomfortable with Jimmgle bells or maybe she outright said how he was a threat to her, but again, Curly chose to be a bystander and not have to argue with his friend who was already very CLEARLY a JERK to even Curly since the beginning.

The point isn’t “well what COULD he have done” that point is that because it was a tricky situation, he had rather do nothing and that created a domino effect and serves even more evidence for one of the games themes, male dominance in the workplace and male alliance even if that ally is the Worst Guy Ever

theres more to be said but im not very articulate however this image may help

ALSO WHILE I HAVE YOU, STOP TREATING AFTER-CRASH-CURLY LIKE A CREATURE…. that’s a full grown man, just cuz he baked doesn’t change that. really weird when people draw him scaring people with his face to defend Anya in au’s where they all make it out alive, like??? and biting at people???? who?? why would you why???? isn’t the whole point of those au’s for it to be the good ending….give him a lil communicator, or prosthetics and he does asl, or communication cards or a walker or SOMETHING OTHER THAN ALLAT…. THANK YOU…

[gilverrwrites]

Jason and Roy separately after they keep teasing you and you just end up disengaging and dealing with it yourself with your hitachi and calling it a night. They got a lil too confident with the orgasm denial and forgot that their competition is Mr. Bunny massager/Mrs. Rose toy, who gives out orgasms for free with little to no begging or pleading or promises to be a good girl/boy required. Their window of opportunity to make you nut has closed and they're stuck waiting for the 1-3 business days for you to be in the mood/horny again if they wanna touch you again and they better bring their A game or they might just become 2nd fiddle to a bad dragon toy. (This might just be me but I'm not in a rush to repeat it if I spend all night with a person and dont get my rocks off, id still give head if asked but id need serious convincing to let them touch me again, bc it's not hot they wasted my fucking time, if I want to NOT come I can do that by myself)

On a very real note, teasing, edging, and denial are kinks like any other, and you should be voicing to your partners what kinks you do and don't like in the bed room to keep things fun and healthy. Your partner also shouldn't be in competition with your sex toys unless that's something they're into. If its not working for you, say something, my friend. Don't be afraid to stop your partners and say ‘Hey, this isn't working for me, can we do ‘something else’ instead?’ especially before you jump straight to cutting them out of the activity completely.

There's also nothing wrong with having a low libido anon! You take all the time you need between sex!

That being said, the idea of being pressed into the bed by Jason or Roy while they’re giving it their all and getting real cocky about making you squirm only for you to be like ‘um, no, excuse me. You're taking to long so I'll be doing this myself, thank you’ makes me laugh.

I think for both of them, the initial response would just be shock. Like open-mouth awe at your gall. Can't knock a girl who knows what she wants, and both of them would definitely enjoy watching you get off on your own typically, but the blow of you doing it unexpectedly, especially while they've been enjoying themselves would bruise their egos.

Roy is the type to try and win you back over. He's getting close, gently trying to pry the toy out of your hands and promising he’ll do better, he’ll do whatever you want just give him another chance. Can't you see how hard you've got him? Its painful, baby. You should let him relieve you both together.

Another disclaimer: Blue balls ain't a real thing, don't let Roy Harper convince you otherwise, he's just needy as all hell and will say anything to get you back to bed with him.

Jason would take it a lot harder. When his family piss him off he blows up, but I think he'd worry about scaring you/putting you off so he sulks instead. No, its fine. You do what you've gotta do, no really its totally fine. He’ll just show myself out and you can try again in the approximate 3 business days you need to to get there again, if he's around.

There's also a level of familiarity and intimacy to this. This is how I assume they'd react with someone they have an established romantic/sexual relationship with, in which at least some boundaries have been set. If you're just like, a one-night stand or you're in a causal hook-up scenario they'd probably just be like oh, okay. Guess we’re done for tonight, see ya round, have fun with that. They're not gonna push if it's evident you're not willing to give.

[angelthefandomobsessed]

What's the deal with Heartslabyul (A TWST theory)

I've been thinking about this for a while now, and it just occurred to me to write it all out because I think this is pretty interesting. This theory involves who some of the Heartslabyul members are twisted from, who Yuu represents, the potential inspiration for Grim (yes, Grim), and how this might affect Royal Sword Academy. Some of this is likely fairly obvious, and almost definitely has been pointed out before, but there are some aspects that I have never seen discussed.

I'll split this post into different points to keep everything somewhat together, hopefully, maybe?

Point 1: Who is Alice?

Okay, so this all started with Ace. This is all his fault. I was thinking to myself, "Who is he actually supposed to represent?", as he's one of the more dubious characters in terms of a direct inspiration (him and the rest of Heartslabyul tbh).

In Book 1, at a glance, he seems to be acting as Alice as he is the tart thief. It's not unusual to see characters doubling up on 'roles' (Azul stands in for the genie in Book 4, and Malleus stands in for Mufasa in Book 2, for example). But then I realised no, Ace can't be Alice, because Yuu is obviously Alice.

Yuu ends up in a different world (a world literally named 'Wonderland'), Yuu meets all of the strange characters this Wonderland has to offer, and Yuu points out that Riddle (the Queen of Hearts) is in the wrong (though it's worth mentioning that Ace and Deuce also do this). These parallels are obvious indicators that the player, the only outsider, is supposed to be Alice.

But for what I think is more definitive proof...

Point 2: GRIM IS DINAH, HAS ANYBODY ELSE NOTICED OR AM I LOSING IT???

Grim shares striking similarities with Dinah, Alice's cat.

Entirely blue eyes. A big bow. A patch of chest fur. I refuse to believe that in making an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm, in a game named after Alice in Wonderland, that this is a coincidence. At one point in Alice in Wonderland, Alice wonders to herself if she'll be taking orders from Dinah next (I think when the White Rabbit mistakes her for the maid?). Taking orders... like a henchman might?

I rest my case. Grim is Dinah, which makes Yuu Alice.

(If this is somehow common knowledge I apologise, I just felt very clever when I spotted this)

Point 3: Okay... so who is Ace?

Ace is the Knave of Hearts. In the novel, it is the Knave of Hearts who is initially accused of stealing the tart, not Alice. The Knave isn't included in the Disney's animated Alice in Wonderland, but he plays a role in Tim Burton's live-action version... as a man with a heart eyepatch who serves the queen (but seems to hate her and want her dead for... reasons).

But like. Heart eyepatch. Tart thief. Do the math.

Point 4: Che'nya further evidences the influence of the live-action Alice in Wonderland/the original novel

In the animated Alice in Wonderland, the Cheshire Cat sucks. He is the worst. In the book, however, he is the chillest creature in Wonderland. At one point in a croquet match with the queen Alice is like "Bro, are you seeing this lady?" and he's like "Tell me all about it", and they have a gossip off to the side.

Similarly, in the live-action, the cat is portrayed in a positive light. He's a part of the revolution (down with the bloody big heid, and such). Che'nya is in RSA - the good guy school. If we were exclusively following the animated film, he would 100% be in NRC.

Che'nya is a good guy, which suggests that media surrounding Disney's original animated films was taken into consideration. I've seen it observed that Leona's overblot design seems to take inspiration from the musical adaptation of the Lion King, and that Diasomnia's Glorius Masquerade outfits resemble the live-action Maleficent when put together (wings on either side of Malleus).

If that's not enough to convince you that the live-action has been referenced in TWST, then I present you with this:

Riddle's hair is red, not black. The Queen of Heart's has black hair in the animated film... and bright red hair in the live action.

Point 5: What does this mean for Royal Sword Academy?

This is very up in the air as we don't know all that much about RSA. If they operate similarly to NRC (seven dorms, each with a leader, each dedicated to a Disney hero), more references to the live-action Alice in Wonderland might be on the horizon. We might see a representation of the White Queen, or the Mad Hatter (a character who was also a little bit terrible in the animated film, but played an instrumental hero role in the live-action).

Point 6: Deuce, Trey and Cater... Whomst are you?

Well... where does that leave the other card soldiers? That's certainly one of the great mysteries of TWST. Most of the characters have such clear inspiration - Jamil is obviously Jafar, Malleus is obviously Maleficient, Azul is obviously Ursula... And then you have a character like Trey, who makes cake and has a dental fixation. There aren't really any other characters like the Knave where you can point at them and say, "They share an obvious visual similarity."

The Mad Hatter is green, and the tea parties couldn't happen without Trey and he... wears a fedora, I guess?

Cater has orange hair and so does the King of Hearts.

Deuce gives dog boy energy, so...

Yeah, it's still anyone's guess.

In conclusion: I think the reason why Heartslabyul is such a source of mystery is because every member hides a part of themselves. Cater has a melancholic side, Deuce is an ex-delinquent, Riddle deeply wants to be normal but holds back because of the rules, Trey wants to be the most average man ever, and Ace can be all kinds of insincere.

I think in the next book 7 update (the Heartslabyul adventure) we might be getting a deeper insight into these characters, which I'm really looking forward to. Ace in particular.

While we're here, I predict that Riddle's dream will involve him being a normal, imperfect teen who eats sweets all day, Deuce will be an honour student (he probably doesn't have the best imagination so it could be silly o'clock with him), and Trey will wear a sparkly dress and become the tooth fairy (his true dream job).

Okay, but serious prediction for Trey - they'll go into his dream and be all "Omg he has such a strong imagination, how did we never notice?? He's actually so OP" because his unique magic is actually broken, I'm pretty sure if he woke up he could use Doodle Suit on Malleus and turn his sleep spell into pretzels or something, it wouldn't even surprise me.

[ssreeder]

Sreedy!!!!! I finally caught up!!! Now, I need to figure out what to do in the meantime. Do you have any fanfic recs (or anyone else who may end up seeing this)? I'm in the Atla (Zukka), Voltron(Klance), Good Omens, One Piece(Zosan), Marauders(Jegulus), and MHA Fandom (so far). But I think I'm open to reading about anything. I'm not really into one shots, so I'm more of a anything over 50k word count. Thank you, and I also still am loving the story 💛

OMG YOURE SO CAUGHT UP IM SO HAPPY!! (Im also a huge one piece fan so im excited that you’re excited for this long ass fic haha luckily we don’t have tooooo much longer)

DO I HAVE ANY FANFIC RECS?!?! hahah oh yeah I do…. I’ll give you my longfic recs (They’re all atla I don’t read much other fic except random one shots)

first off all, war games by @lovelyelbowleech is so fucking good and long and even though I’m not caught up on the second installment I just know it’s so fucking good and you’re going to love it I promise trust me it’s amazing. War games is angsty and smart and fun you’ll be so happy! (& hurt)

also my new obsession the Mercy of Magpies by @ranilla-bean is soooo good I wanna scream about it all day and night. The world building is so extensive and delicious and then there’s a ton of amazing art that goes with it I swear it’s so good! I would recommend this one to anyone even if they aren’t in the fandom.

ok another long fic I enjoy WHICH IS ONE OF MY LONG TERM FAVES (I’ll catch up I swear I love love love you TAOB my wonderful first long zukka fic…) is the Art of Burning by @hella1975 I lost sleep reading this! The author also has fics for MHA!! Just check out her ao3 she’s an incredible author will rock your world I promise!!

DOG TEETH is the only not atla fic I’ve never read that I will recommend because again, @hella1975 poured a part of her soul in it so it’s good… and really really PAINFUL.

ONE OF THE FICS THAT INSPIRED LIAB is the one & ONLYYYYY: Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_wonderful_thought (if you know their tumblr let me know!!) SO SO SO GOOD!!! Prison zuko! Isolated being disturbed & sokka being persistent and just such a good story!! One of my first true fanfic loves.

another gem I adore is actually one inspired by liab it’s La’s Wrath by anon and even though I can’t tag them if they read this just know this dark and tantalizing fic really takes an interesting perspective at what would have happened if the boys died and angsty but fun spirit shenanigans began. I love it so much it’s honestly my comfort fic haha

anything by @a-witch-in-endor in just mind blowing but: this is a gift (it comes with a price) rocked my brain chemistry in a way that was wonderful and intelligent and AHHH SO GOOD!!

Boomerangs and Rainbows is another AMAZING fic by someone who’s tumblr I don’t know but will totally add if I find out their tumblr! It’s a great fic I haven’t read in a while but I remember LOVING IT!

those are the longer fics that are more of that darker kind of angsty themes but I will do a few honorable mentions haha!

(not)according to plan by birdyhands (sorry I don’t have hour tumblr) but it was my very first zukka fic and I just fell in love with the potential of their relationship haha. If home is a place ,where do I go? By @maaaxx it’s currently being rereleased but I had the pleasure of reading the first chapter and fuck it I love me some sassy hakoda!

The Things I Would Do (To Steal Time With You) is the definition of a good long fic!! This one is by @erisenyo & it’s honestly such a relaxing time. Now don’t get me wrong! there’s a lot of tension both political and emotional communication happening but no one’s getting tortured so it’s a good breath of fresh air! The chapters are filled with so much wonderful world building I’m such a sucker for a good fleshed out world! This should keep you busy for a while!!!!! I’m so thankful that you’ve given me a chance to shout out to some of my fave fics and authors I wish I could scream about more of them!!! you’re such an amazing reader, I’m so thankful to have someone like you who takes the time to share your thoughts on not just ao3 but tumblr as well. All of these authors would be so lucky to have you as a reader I hope you enjoy!!!!

[dreamwatch]

Part 2 Part 3

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Part 1

Word Count: Pt1 - 3080 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury - - please let me know if you think I've missed any.

I'm posting in 3 parts, because this is nearly 12k in total, which is a lot. Mods - hope that's ok! I'll link them all together. :)

There’s a wispy smell of smoke wafting under his bedroom door.

Something’s on fire.

His eyes fly open. Holy shit, something’s on fire!

Eddie pulls himself out of bed as quick as he can; in a fraction of a second his mind has managed to flick through his options like a rolodex  - grab his crutches, yes or no? Should he put clothes on? It’s freezing outside, he should at least bring a sweater, right? Shoes though, those are definitely important. Maybe he doesn’t need to go out at all, maybe it’s small and he can deal with it himself—

He’s hears crashing and banging from his kitchen, followed by a loud “Mother fucker!” 

That is definitely not Wayne.

He’s on fire and he’s being burgled.

He grabs a crutch with the full intention of braining someone with it, and drags his sleep addled body through the house. He stumbles into his kitchen, crutch raised to find Steve Harrington waving a towel around, and something smouldering in the sink while being doused with water.

“Uh, what the fuck is going on?”

Steve spins around, the towel waving come to an abrupt end.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Eddie limps to the kitchen table and gingerly lowers himself into a seat. It’s been eight months since… since. His mind is in a surprisingly good place, all things considered, but his body, not so much. After everything, after Chrissy, God rest her soul, and Patrick, and being hunted by an entire town, and then being ripped apart by creatures that shouldn’t exist outside of comic books and fantasy games, after all of that his body just said ‘enough.’ The bats got enough bone, muscle and tendon to leave him changed in ways he couldn’t imagine when he was sitting under Skull Rock trying to make sense of what his life was going to be like if he lived long enough to see it;  court cases, long prison sentences (or death row), and a complete and utter mental breakdown. He avoided the court proceedings and prison, but he got his mental breakdown eventually, once the relief of being alive and the undoing of handcuffs had sunk in. He was free. He was going to live. Time for his mind to try and process the tsunami of emotions that overwhelmed it during the summer.

He got through it.

There’s a number of reasons for that. Wayne, first and foremost. Wayne, who never doubted him, who had always done his best by Eddie, somehow managed to step it up another notch. He took extended leave from work, that Eddie knows he couldn’t afford unless he had managed to dip into what Eddie knew to be an extremely meagre savings account. Eddie doesn’t love easy, trusts people even less so. People leave. People can be bitterly mean, people can hit and lash out when you’re least expecting it. His father was a viper in their nest of a home, always coiled, ready to strike. Wayne was never like that. Eddie pushed that mans buttons so hard but there were no hands raised, no words that couldn’t be taken back. Just disappointment. Anger was rare, but Eddie had been beyond a fucker to him at times, when he was young and the world had torn away everything he knew, the good and the bad. They fought, then they made up. Nothing was held over his head, nothing got filed away and thrown at him at a later date. They fought, they said sorry, they moved on. 

Eddie doesn’t love easy, and he trusts people even less so, but the exception to that is, and always will be, Wayne Munson.

Of course, there is also the Nerd Brigade that he kind of thought he would just never really hear from again, if he’s honest. They went to school together, he ran campaigns for them, and okay, they saved him from something horrific but like, it’s just something he got caught up in right? He didn’t really mean anything to them, after all. 

Except, they visited him in the hospital. They came to visit him at home. They brought him books and tapes and magazines, and kept him company when he was stuck in bed most days. Brought him movies once he could make it to the sofa. He wasn’t in the mood for them in those early days, especially when he was stuck in his little tar pit, but they kept throwing him ropes until he hung on. Stubborn to the bitter end.

Gareth, and Jeff and Matt. Well, that was more complicated, because they couldn’t ever know what had happened, and explaining away injuries like his was tough when you can’t say the words ‘inter-dimensional bats.’ There was a wall there for a while. It’s a fence now. They can see over the top of it, can link hands and shoot the shit, but it’s still a divider. Maybe one day they’ll get to push the last of it down.

The last reason he managed to climb out that nasty fucking pit of self loathing and pity was currently standing in his kitchen with an exasperated look on his face, dish towel over his shoulders and hands on his hips. 

Dustin and the other kids he could understand. They’re excitable chimps, nerds of the highest order. They have things in common, things to talk to him about that gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, and get out of bed. And his band, well they’re his band, you know? Brothers in arms, even if the arms are linked a little looser than before.

But Steve Harrington turning up to their new home? Nope, that was not on his recovery bingo card.

Steve was there in the hospital, dropping off and picking up kids. So sometimes he sat with him a while, when the chimps were visiting Max. And then one day Chief Powell walks in, mutters some half assed apology and uncuffs him. Just like that. As it turned out, those cuffs were the finger in the dam. And once you take the finger away, it all comes pouring out.

Eddie’s not entirely sure about what happened next. He knows he let out the most embarrassingly loud sob, and that spurred Steve into motion because then he’s being held; Steve was on his bed wrapping his arms around him, and fuck if Eddie didn’t hurt all over, his skin, his legs, his everything on fire, but it felt good to be held. To have someone to press their mouth so close to his ear and tell him it’s okay, you’re going to be okay, for someone to stroke his hair, lay a comforting hand on his back. For someone to reach the pain that morphine could never dull.

After that, Steve was just there, with or without the little assholes that tormented him. He was there the day the doctors told him they couldn’t do much more for him, he was there the day Eddie went home. He had been there even when Eddie wasn’t; the asshole had helped Wayne move into their new little house and decorate the place. 

He was there through the summer, there with the kids, there without. He was there when all Eddie could do was stare blankly at a wall, and he was there when all Eddie could do was cry. He was there when things started to get better.

And now he’s here, setting fire to Wayne’s new kitchen at eight P.M.  on Thanksgiving. 

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you, obviously, but um… why are you setting fire to my home?”

“I wasn’t setting fire to your home, asshole. I was trying to—“ he gestures angrily at the sink, “make you dinner. Or heat, it up at least. But that’s ruined, so…”

“Dinner?”

Steve shrugs at him, flushes a little across his cheeks, and Eddie does his best not to think about that too much.

“I just— when you said Wayne was working tonight, I just thought, you know. Like, your first Thanksgiving after… and I just thought—” He’s beet red, looks firmly at the floor, at the wall, at literally anywhere other than Eddie. “I just didn’t want you to be on your own, thats all.”

It’s not a revelation, exactly. He had several offers for Thanksgiving dinner; Hop and The Byers, which would have been desperately awkward, the Wheelers, an absolutely firm but polite no, and even the Sinclair and Hendersons. And it was all lovely, honestly, that people were over the Satan workshopping thing, but they’d moved onto the pity thing. And more fundamentally than that, their Thanksgivings were never going to be like his and Wayne’s Thanksgiving, and that’s fine. Variety is the spice of life, and he’s sure they’ll have a great time. It’s just not for him.

But maybe it is. Because Steve didn’t want him to be alone, and there’s a little lump growing deep in his throat. 

“That’s… really nice, actually.”

Steve huffs, dramatically. “Yeah, well, it’s ruined. Mom gave me all this left over food and all I had to do was leave it in the oven,” he scrabbles around on the counter, in amongst the dishes and retrieves a piece of paper. “It’s all here, all the times, the temperatures. And I fucking nodded off and now it’s—“ he gestures to the sink again.

Eddie climbs out of his seat and makes his way to the sink. He winces at the sight of what he thinks might have been some turkey.

“It’s pretty black.”

Steve sighs. “Understatement.”

“If you were trying to make charcoal you did a pretty good job.”

“Ha ha.” 

Steve flops into the chair Eddie vacated. “I just wanted it to be perfect for you. You know, it’s been a shitty year, like for everyone, but you especially.” He tails off, his voice gets quieter, as if he’s embarrassed by it.

Something swells inside of Eddie, a knot of happiness. Not at how dejected Steve is, but at how much it had clearly meant to him that this was good for Eddie. 

Perfect. He wanted it to be perfect. 

He needs to not be reading into things so much. There be dragons, after all.

Steve looks miserable, and Eddie hates that, can’t bear it actually, so he makes his way back to the table and flops into the chair facing Steve’s.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging Steve’s hand with his. “Honestly I really appreciate the thought.” 

And who is this Eddie Munson that doesn’t mock people for being considerate, for putting effort into things he’s never considered important? A habit born out of bitterness at not having parents like everyone else’s, at not just being different, but having to lean into the different, to own otherness before someone else takes it and wraps it around him anyway. 

He does appreciate the thought. He’s revelling in it and trying desperately to keep a lid on just how much it means to him. Outside of Wayne, who has cared this much about whether he has nice things?

Steve leans back in his seat, that quick flash of red colouring his cheeks again. “Yeah, well, the thought isn’t much good if it’s sitting in the sink burnt to a fucking crisp, is it?”

“How was your Thanksgiving?”

Steve shrugs. “It was okay. Mom was hosting this year, so we had like, a million people in the house. My cousins are a fucking nightmare, honestly, probably ripping my room apart as we speak. Animals.”

“Was the food good?”

The confused little ripple on Steve’s face is cuter than it has any right to be, and Eddie doesn’t even make an effort to stop the little smile that he knows is pulling at his own lips. He rests his head in on hand, elbow planted on the table.

“Yeah, it was good. You’d know that if I didn’t fuck up reheating it. I should have just put it in the microwave, seriously, I don’t why my mom—“

“Was the company good?”

“Uh, sure. It’s nice to see the family, yeah.”

“Was it perfect?”

There’s a silence, a little wrinkle as Steve wonders on the question. There’s something about sitting here with Steve, just the two of them at the kitchen table, burnt food in the sink. Something warm. Something homey. Like Steve fits in ways Eddie had never imagined anyone fitting. It’s resolute and fast and comes from nowhere - I want this. Eddie buries it as fast as it came.

“I mean, it was nice, sure.”

“But was it perfect?”

Steve shrugs and it strikes Eddie that Steve might think he’s being made fun of, that Eddie is goading him somehow, and nothing could be further from the truth.

“You know how I usually spend Thanksgiving? Wayne usually works it, money’s too good to pass up, you know? So he works, and I get up early and then we have a couple of Turkey dinners and a couple of beers, and maybe pie if we could get one. And then we sit in front of the TV until Wayne falls asleep in his chair. And I cover the old man up in a blanket, and I leave him to sleep for the day. I go to my room and I listen to music and I read and then when it’s time to wake him up we have waffles and ice cream and maybe some more pie if we’re feeling extra decadent. Then he goes to work. 

“And I’m here by myself and yeah, it’s lonely, sometimes. But I have Wayne, and so I get a day to be thankful for that. It’s not perfect by most people’s standards, but it’s perfect for me.”

Steve looks at him, awed.

“Holy shit.”

It feels reverent, oddly, like Steve has seen this gentle part of him, like he’s unpicked locks for Steve, like he’s—

“You’re such a sap.”

Asshole!

“I am not!”

Steve leans back in the dining chair, wood creaking dangerously, grinning widely. 

“You are! You’re a fucking sap, Eddie Munson. How did anyone think you were cool enough to be a Satan worshipper?”

Eddie damn near splutters at it. “Oh fuck you Harrington! Look at me, I’m practically the Prince of Darkness.”

“Okay, so that’s Ozzy—.”

“You remember—“

“—and also you’re a fucking pussycat.”

He has to bite his tongue, can’t say anything else or it might be something he can’t take back. And he doesn’t want to lose this. He’s never been short of friends, he has the band, and okay, they’re like eleven years old or something, but Dustin and the dweeb crew are friends now, too. There’s Robin, and Nancy - Nancy fucking Wheeler for Christ’s sake - and then there’s Steve.

There’s something to be said for people seeing you at your worst and sticking with you regardless. All of those people - okay, not the band - have seen him at his worst. Dead is probably him at his worst. Bloodied and torn open is not a good look for anyone. He feels sick thinking about it. But they saw it. 

Steve saw it, then he tried to fix it.

Or well, Steve gave him CPR; no one wants to know they’ve had CPR performed on them, it’s a window into an event that he really doesn’t want to think about. But it was Steve, and somehow that feels big in a way he can’t put his finger on.

And then Steve got him out, and Steve kept him alive in the car all the way to the hospital, and Steve screamed at a nurse until they brought a gurney, and Steve, Steve, Steve. It always comes back to Steve.

Crushes are childish things, things for hair twirling girls and handsome boys, and Eddie has never had crushes. He watches someone from afar and then stuffs it away, squashes it before it gets that far. He watched Steve, once, before folding that feeling neatly and stuffing it in a box marked ‘I Can’t Have It.’ 

But there’s something to be said for a man saving your life, for risking his own to save yours, and then for sticking with you for months after. For not just being there physically, but mentally, emotionally. There’s a bond that has been growing, a root deep within Eddie, a seed that’s been there for years but has finally been watered, has had the sun of a long hot summer to grow it; Steve is his best friend. But the flutter of more, of want, sings within him.

Sitting here with him, hands almost touching over the worn top of the kitchen table, burnt turkey in the sink, over cooked potatoes and solid gravy on the counter, it’s as close to looking at that neatly folded thing as he dares, and this time when he stuffs it back inside it hurts.

“So,” Steve says, with a soft knock-knock on the table. “Have you got plans for tomorrow? Hitting up the stores?”

Eddie can’t help the snort of laughter. “Uh, no. Just chilling here, I think. The guys asked me to go with them to Indie, but… not really in the mood for walking around the mall all day, you know?”

Steve flashes a look, like concern maybe? 

“Oh. Everything okay?”

“No, yeah, everything’s fine. Just tired is all. And you know,” he taps his leg, the only shorthand he needs for the shit show that has become his body. He smiles, big and as genuine as he can make it and it does the trick as Steve’s shoulders relax.

“What about you? Big plans?” Eddie crosses his arms and leans across the table with a wide grin on his face. “A date, maybe?” It stings his lips to say it.

“Yeah, right,” Steve scoffs. “Robin wants to get away from her family for the day, I think she has about a hundred Buckley’s camped out in her place. You’re welcome to join us?”

That flutter again. He’s so close to saying yes before he reins it in.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to laze around in my pyjamas for the day. But thanks for the offer.”

“Okay, well, if you change your mind…”

They spend the rest of the evening throwing out what’s left of Mrs Harrington’s prize, and very, very black, turkey, and ordering a pizza. And Eddie doesn’t think anymore about that thing folded up inside of him.