#the dotted lines are orbits

[nemfrog]

Spring and neap tides. A high-school astronomy. 1853.

Internet Archive

[bklynsboys]

The Theory on Other Halves

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." genre: fluff word count: 1k author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3

THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASE—TYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU. Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home. If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid—the object of your unspoken affections—is an opportunity you wouldn't miss.

For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests. Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual. Now, you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room. You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.

"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.

Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed. A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger. "Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."

You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm. There, nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.

"Here's another one," you offered.

He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity. " It's beautiful," he said simply.

"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"

You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact. " A bear?"

A smile played on his lip. " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them. Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."

"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began, a fond memory surfacing. " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other, kind of like the Earth and the sun. She was into soulmates, you see, and space."

The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories. You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee. He, in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.

Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently. "What's this from?" you asked gently.

Spencer chuckled. " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed. " I was lost in a book, I ran straight into a doorpost. My mom called me 'Crash' after that."

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you. You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining. Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability.

He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back. " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.

As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words. You ended up curled up on one bed. You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong. He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.

There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted together—entangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.

Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft. " Maybe your mom was right, you know."

"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.

His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow. " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly. " There's an old Buddhist saying, I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips. " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.

He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."

A soft blush crept up your neck. You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.

"Plato," you murmured, surprised." The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile.

"True," he admitted. "But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people. Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes.

"So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"

Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence. " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments. The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night. Curled beside him, Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence, you drifted off to sleep.

A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores. "Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

[todays-xkcd]

Actually, the fact that Mars is still orbiting safely over here means that it was technically an *Euler* apocalypse, not a Venn one.

Earth/Venus Venn Diagram [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Title: Earth/Venus Venn Diagram.

[A venn diagram with the left circle labelled "Earth", the right circle labelled "Venus", and the center (outlined in dotted lines) labelled "shockwaves and production of impact ejecta".]

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Long War

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

War’s often did not last long when fought between warring galactic powers. They often fell within one of two categories.

The first would be a short but brutal war in which one side had overwhelming superiority over their rival and would decimate them within a short period of time either resulting in the defeated offering concessions for peace or being incorporated into the victors realm as a new territory.

The second and less frequent of the two would be a drawn out conflict that would reach a stalemate at some point due to the near equal power of the opposing sides resulting in a peace treaty or more likely a cease fire that would last for a few years before resuming hostilities.

These two outcomes were the most frequent as with the age of space travel often came great leaps and bounds in other forms of technology; many times said technology being diverted to respective military industrial complexes.

Weapons that could carve up continents from orbit or snap starships in two like twigs left little in room for anything else.

Humans did not share this notion.

In quite a contrast to the standard norm human military planners also considered lengthier drawn out conflicts. Data sheets and computer banks were filled with projections for supply consumption, industrial production capacities, troop conscription rates, and even the designated planetary ration levels that would be acceptable before general population revolts within their own territory.

This practice was first demonstrated when conflict broke out between the Drumengi and the Terran Republic after a series of trade disputes resulted in the Drumengi seizing several dozen human trade vessels and demanding a ransom for their return. This was a grave insult and the Terran Republic responded the next day with an open declaration of war.

While the Drumengi did not have a sizable fleet, they had invested in a wide range of defensive orbital installations that dotted their territory in what was known as the “Halo of Iron”. No fleet had ever been able to breach the defenses of the Halo and so previous wars had gone for little more than a year before a peace treaty was negotiated. The Drumengi expected as much and planned to force humanity to the negotiation table.

It was unfortunate no one had informed the humans of this plan as the terran’s had already devised a plan to crack the halo.

 Establishing a vast network of relay stations, automated satellite weapons platforms, and mobile fleet waystation’s that were brought in and placed along key trade routes into Drumengi territory, humanity established an iron halo of their own. Once the human ring was completed warning beacons were activated and a message was broadcasted in every language declaring the territory an active warzone and refused passage for any ship to try and cross through it.

Initially the Drumengi were inclined this was the prelude to a massive invasion fleet and prepared themselves, but as the months turned to years still no attack came. Human fleets patrolled the surrounding systems and intercepted all ships that tried to breach their lines with the help of the relay stations that were constantly scanning the surrounding space for ships.

Three years passed and soon every ship learned to avoid Drumengi space for fear of human retaliation; and that is when the Drumengi learned the true plan of humanity.

They never intended to besiege their defensive ring in some full frontal do or die charge. Instead they had formed a blockade that now was choking the very life of the Drumengi economy month by month.

It was never intended for the war to last more than a year, two at max, but now humanity was still showing no signs of relenting as the war dragged on to the fourth year. Critical supplies had not been stored in sufficient quantities for an extended war and while the public was assured of an eventual victory, Drumengi planners were beginning to panic. Worlds within Drumengi space were reporting that their stockpiles had dropped 32% since the war began and were increasingly demanding to open negotiations with the humans.

With little offensive capabilities the Drumengi were forced to sit behind their iron halo and continue to wait out the humans. Several delegations had been sent to other powers to open up channels and begin laying the ground work for peace talks, but each time they were informed that the talks were stalled by human counterparts who proceeded to drag their feet over every minor detail. One delegation went so far to report that a human diplomat would not accept any document unless it was written with a “Ballpoint Pen, color blue”. No one had any idea what that was exactly and even after researching it the device took another three weeks to be shipped in only for the human to reject it again saying that they had imported red pens instead.

The war dragged into the fifth year and supply levels had reached critical across the entire Drumengi domain. Supply levels had decreased by 67% for most worlds while fuel levels now were at a critical 13%. Travel was limited to military personnel, government officials, and what limited transportation still remained. Food riots had broken out in several major metropolitan areas on numerous planets and were becoming increasingly difficult to put down. In some cases the magistrates sent to neutralize the riots switched sides and joined the rioters, beckoning the military to get involved as well. That did little to settle the matter however as then the government worried how long it would be until the military switched sides as well.

With heavy hearts and empty bellies the Drumengi leadership finally came to humanity directly and offered to surrender. No terms were asked for save the resumption of trade and the dismantling of the human ring of iron.

The humans agreed to the first measure, but denied the second. Their ring of iron would remain, as a reminder of how easily humanity could cripple them again should the Drumengi ever show their hand again. They also insisted on reparations for maintaining such an extensive grid and exacted a high sum of credits as well. The Drumengi were outraged at this. They were told not only to surrender but to also pay for their imprisonment? The government would be overthrown within a fortnight when the general population heard the news.

Their pleas fell on deaf ears as the humans reiterated their demands once more.

As they had planned ahead for their long war, so too had they planned for the end result. They had changed the nature of the war and had steered it to the point where either outcome would be in their benefit. If the Drumengi agreed to the terms the current government would collapse in on itself as the general population railed against humanities demands, but if they refused their supplies would run out at the general public would once again violently rise up across their entire domain and their territory would become nothing more than mere pocket kingdoms for despots and criminals.

Regardless of the choice, the long war would finally be at an end.  

[bluebblurry]

Okay okay so the victor naming scheme with like celestial bodies (I like to think this is what the Watchers call them) is really really cool to me so i was trying to come up with more for the potential winners

(I decided I’m going to go through all of them while i wait for grian to poST HIS FUCKING VIDEO so please bare with me lmao)

Grian is the Sun, of course. It’s his series, not to mention he shares a name with the Irish goddess of the sun. Mumbo can’t win bc he’s out but like if he ever does win, i think he should also be the Sun like Grian, because they canonically share a soul (at least in hermitcraft). He could also be Icarus as a tribute :3

Scott is the Stars. Why? I dunno, fandom consensus lmao. I don’t personally keep up with his pov because he and grian don’t really cross paths much (i mostly only watch grian, mumbo, and scar 😭). He also had that little crown in Last Life that looked like stars so

Pearl is the Moon, firstly, because she is PearlescentMoon, but also because she had a strong connection with the wolves (Werewolf!Pearl my beloved). It also completes the trio lol

Now here’s where we get into the people that don’t necessarily have an agreed upon title, starting with Martyn. To me, he is Mars. The Roman god of war is a contributor to that, but he also just has the vibes (it also rhymes with Stars but atdhdbjd). Similar to Mumbo, Ren could also be Mars if he won bc his soul is shared with Martyn now (i think??). If not, then maybe Jupiter, like the king of gods, and the red dot can be Red Winter.

Scar is the Earth. He had an earthy color palette for most of the season, but that’s not the only reason. He is alone. The Earth is alone in the universe when it comes to life (as far as we know).

Now, i’ve seen Cleo as Mercury and as Venus, and I love both of those. Venus is the Roman goddess of love and beauty, and I think that’s very fun for Cleo. Mercury also is kind of just her vibe. However! I thought of Pluto, at first as a joke, because Cleo “technically doesn’t count”. But i decided it fits because Pluto is the Roman god of the Underworld, and Cleo is a zombie! :D

Okay now i’m making some up for fun for potential future winners 💀

Jimmy could be a Comet! Somehow it’s similar to a canary to me, i dunno it just makes sense lmao. If Tim ever won, it would be like he’s hurtling toward the finish line like a big flaming ball, so it’s funny. I don’t have the words to explain the symbolism i want to get across, but it’s there i promise

Lizzie could be The Void, one because ShadowLady, and two because she died to the void in Secret Life. I know it’s not exactly a celestial body, but it can apply to the dark matter of space :)

Etho could be Saturn, purely just for color and vibes. Alternately he could be Jupiter and the red storm can be like Etho’s red eye!

Joel is Uranus. Just cause it’s funny.

Gem could be the constellation Gemini. I know it doesn’t exactly count as a celestial body, and Scott is already the Stars, but i don’t care lol

A potential one for Tango is Mercury. His blue fire form could represent Mercury’s retrograde.

Big B would probably be Neptune, for his sweater, or! Venus because of his recent Creaking stuff.

Unfortunately i don’t really have one for Bdubs, so if y’all have suggestions let me know! Maybe like, the Horsehead Nebula?

I’d like for Impulse and Skizz to be intertwined somehow, something like Alpha Centauri, which are two stars that orbit each other.

Tell me if you have suggestions! I might also be using some of these for my pirate au…. 🤫

[acaptainbyanyothername]

The Midst cosmos is weird, right?

A gravity that spans the entire cosmos, allowing someone to theoretically drop from the Un to the Fold? An ocean of darkness with a mono-directional current? What is the gravitational source? Where does the current come from and go? These questions are not answered with the current cosmic hypotheses you may have seen illustrated in appendices. What if there was more to the cosmos that explained these questions, something that our lovely in-canon scientists have no way of knowing?

(All the credit to @druidposting for churning out these thoughts with me and teaching me about marshes. These theories are as much their brainchild as mine).

Bernhard and Gottle, this is my pitch to join your research team. Say hello to the Theorized Diagram of the Complete Midst Cosmos (a 2d vertical cross-section of the 3-dimensional cosmos):

You may be surprised. You may be off-put. “What the fuck is this?” is the scientific inquiry you may be posing. Never fear— explanations and mad ravings to be found under the cut

The Three Components of the Cosmos

The three components in the cosmos you see represented in the diagram are the Un, the Fold, and a theorized Un-like space below the Fold monikered as “????” for convenience’s sake.

The Fold’s Gravity

The Fold is the gravitational center of the cosmos— the reason why if a Phineas jumps from the Un, he is pulled down toward the Fold

This is because the Fold is a large enough body of matter that its center of mass has a strong enough gravitational pull to affect the Un

The Fold orbits its center of mass in an ellipse, which explains a) why denizens on this cosmos see its surface as something akin to a flat ocean (it is so massive that it would appear that way without the full perspective) and b) why light and the horizon seem to break down in a location such as the Delta, the point of the greatest bend in orbit

With the Fold being an ovoid, that then creates a hypotheses for an Un-Fold space to exist all around the Fold! After all, the “Un” is simply where the Fold is not. The Un therefore is not just above the Fold, as we already know from Midst-canon, but also below it (above and below are of course relative terms when dealing with gravity, but for ease of communication “above” refers to the top of the diagram and “below” refers to the bottom). This “below” space is referred to as “????” in the diagram.

Though it is important to note that the Un is not empty— it has breathable air, as does the Fold! The primary difference are the microscopic Foldlet molecules that make up the Fold, causing it to be slightly denser than the Un and therefore more amassed around the core

Think of the Fold almost as like a gas-giant planet! A huge source of gravity comprised mainly of a gaseous substance that has huge influence over its surrounding area!

Therefore, to continue this analogy, the Un is essentially the gas giant’s outer atmosphere

The ???? Area

So to recap, ???? is a theoretical area of the cosmos that no one within the canon of Midst knows about. It is similar to the Un in that there is a lack of Fold there.

What is the ???? like? Does it have mica? What does it look like? The unfortunate answer is I do not know. Your guess is as good as mine. Here’s what questions I CAN ANSWER THOUGH:

Why don’t the scientists of the Midst-canon know/theorize the existence of the ???? space? Well, imagine it this way: if you were in the Arctic, and the only way you could get to Antarctica was by tunneling through the Earth’s core, you would probably not know of Antartica’s existence either.

Anyone who would attempt to travel from the Un to the ???? would be forced to go right through/by the core of the Fold, aka its gravitational source. That intense of gravity is not survivable! You’re a pancake now, a pancake who doesn’t know there’s anything beyond this. The red dotted line of the diagram demarcates the known cosmos of Midst-canon.

(Side tangent, this is why the Fold is perceived as something more akin to an ocean in Midst-canon: there’s no way to go through it and see the whole picture that it’s a sphere. Even though the gravitational pressure drastically increases the further down you go into it, that is confused with the Midst-version of deep sea pressure!)

If you WERE to travel to the ???? area, you would still perceive the Fold as below you! That is because the perception of “down” is relative to the direction of gravity, and the direction of gravity is still pointed towards the core of the Fold

The Delta’s Cosmic Purpose

Here is where I ESPECIALLY gotta shout out my amazing co-researcher @druidposting. Mirrorhawk dip’s on me for this amazing cosmological thinking.

The Delta acts as a marsh to the greater ecosystem of the Fold! In essence, the marsh accumulates muck and detritus, but due to their good water outflow they end up serving as an excellent water cleanser— the water comes out on the other side remarkably clean!

That’s what purpose the Delta serves, but instead of water it filters tearror systems

The Fold’s Current

So the Fold flows from the Fount down to the Delta, mucking itself up in the process. The Delta accumulates the sediment of old tearror systems, but also filters the Fold so that it runs pure and clean out the other end

The current essentially orbits around the core of the Fold— once the Fold is purified by the Delta, it circles around until it’s on the ???? side. This newly purified Fold fresh from the Delta therefore acts as the Fount for the ???? side. A reverse Fount, if you will.

The process rinses and repeats on the ???? side— the Fold flows from the reverse Fount, mucks itself up, then is purified again in the reverse-Delta, where it then makes its way up to be the source of the Fount as the Midst-canon characters know it!

Therefore, it only LOOKS mono-directional with no end or beginning from a top-down view— really it makes a full circle loop!

That’s all I’m willing to type out today! There are still so many things to be explored— what is this theoretical ???? space like? How do measly isletary gravitational pulls overpower the much larger pull of the Fold? How do things float in the Fold?

Bernhard and Gottle, if you give me grant money more research can be put into answering these questions. Bernhard and Gottle please give me grant money. Please. Please. PLEASE—

[osunism]

Muse's Fanfic Masterpost

⚠️ Please read the rules before following and interacting. ⚠️

⛩️ Muse [She/They] ⛩️ Black 👩🏿‍🦱 ⛩️ 35+. I was there, Gandalf. ⛩️ Multi-fandom and multi-shipper. ⛩️ Writer 👩🏿‍💻 ⛩️ EDM Enjoyer 🌈🪩 ⛩️ Cat Mom 🐈‍⬛ ⛩️ Professional Griot 💃🏿🪘 ⛩️ I don't follow back mindlessly; authentic engagement is the only way I do social media. ⛩️ No bad faith arguments will be entertained. I will ✨block✨ and never look back.

Below is a list of all my current works. Since I’m currently only active in the JJK fandom, those are the works that’ll be listed! Once other fandoms get active, this list will be sorted and updated!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 Headcanons & Meta ⛩️

Fic Status Key

[♡] - AO3 version.

[⭑] - Tumblr version.

[♤] - Fanfiction(dot)net version.

[🚩] - Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

[🔏] - Commissioned Fic

[∞] - In Progress

[☥] - Rewriting

[☯] - Complete

[📿] - Parallax

[🔮] - Sonder

[🪄] - Lost Worlds & Endless Nights

Relationship Key

🧿👹 - Satoru/Sundari

⛩️⚔️ - Sukuna/Nadja

🧿🧜🏾‍♀️ - Satoru/Asabé

⛓️👸🏾 - Toji/Akasha

⛓️👩🏿‍🦱 - Toji/blackfem!Reader

Relevant Tags

#muse writes

#fic rec

#jjk x oc

#jjk x black oc

#jjk fanfic

#jjk fanart

#fic: [ficname]

#series: [seriesname]

#ch: [charname]

#oc: [ocname]

#otp: [shipname]

noun [📿] par·​al·​lax ˈper-ə-ˌlaks ˈpa-rə- 1. the apparent displacement or the difference in apparent direction of an object as seen from two different points not on a straight line with the object. especially: the angular difference in direction of a celestial body as measured from two points on the earth's orbit.

Nadja Hikmat, an immortal warrior tasked by Heaven itself to hunt Ryōmen Sukuna, falls in love with the sorcerer instead. From that fateful meeting, a ripple of unforeseen changes echos across the sea of time.

Beast of No Nation [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, the King of Curses took an over-curious fugitive of heaven to task. Over the course that night, and the many that followed, she found herself continuously drawn to the jujutsu world. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

If [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, Satoru meets a woman with strange tattoos who sears a place on his mind and memory. Who is she? [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Crystalline [⭑]– The night Itadori Yuji takes in Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru sees Sukuna’s cursed energy erupt in Roppongi and finds a familiar face at its epicenter. [A commissioned fic written by the lovely @septembersums. Thank you for contributing to my JJK 'verse!] [🔏] [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

We Might Even Be Fallin' In Love [♡] [⭑] [♤] – The miracle of existence bridges the infinity between them. [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Daughter of Disgrace [♡] [⭑] [♤] – In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo’s sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

The Godslayer Project [♡] [⭑] [♤] – Sukuna’s daughter, Sundari, is navigating her new life as a jujutsu sorcerer and instructor at Jujutsu Tech’s Tokyo Campus. There is still much to be done in the wake of Kenjaku and Sukuna’s schemes, and not all of Kenjaku’s secrets died with him. [TBD]

07DEC2019 04:00 AM JST [♡] [⭑] [♤] – Gojo Satoru comes home and wants to be in the arms of his goddess and sleep. [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

The universe conspires to keep one pair's love kept safe. Nadja and Sukuna walk Samsāra, no matter the form, recognizing one another's souls everywhere they meet. Here is how their meeting ripples across the multiverse. [Or: I am in love with these two and here are some AUs I'm cooking up.]

Highball [♡] [⭑] [♤] – The price of peace has a cost. The scales must balance eventually. [Yakuza/Found Family AU]

noun [🔮] 1. the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles: In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.

A collection of fics in my sprawling JJK multiverse featuring various protagonists, including the Reader!

The Unforgiving Roads That Lead to You [♡] [♤] – Roxanne Abaza, the only foreign-born special grade sorcerer in existence, is called to assist with the wrangling and exorcism of Ryōmen Sukuna. What ensues is more than she bargained for. [☥]

Halfsleeper [♡] [⭑] [♤] – A young widowed sorceress seeks protection under the aegis of the Honored One, but he has a better idea for keeping her out of the clutches of her dangerous clan. [∞] 🧿🧜🏾‍♀️

Unsanctioned [♡] [⭑] [♤] – Bodyguard/Yakuza AU. Toji Fushiguro, who is in disgrace after having an affair with his boss’ now ex-wife, is now tasked with protecting her as the mercurial grounds of Tokyo’s Underworld begin to shift into uncertainty, putting the entire syndicate and anyone associated with them in peril. [∞] ⛓️👸🏾

Before It's Gone [♡] [⭑] – Toji’s been darkening your doorway for a while and is only now realizing what you already knew. [☯] [🔮] ⛓️👩🏿‍🦱

These are playlists for the fics and characters within my JJK ‘verse. It cannot be overstated how much music plays an integral role in my creative process, and it makes me happy to share it with you all to expand the picture I paint with my stories. A ☮︎ indicates a link to the Spotify version of the playlist. Keep in mind that due to licensing issues [yuck], my personal music library tracks can’t be played on some services so there might be more or less songs, different versions of songs, etc. Still bangers, tho. Enjoy.

🎧 [ fugitive of heaven ] [☮︎] – Nadja Hikmat's playlist. Like her immortal life, this playlist has been curated across decades, evoking imagery of a wild, twisting sojourn through many eras. 🐍

🎧 [ godslayer principle ] [☮︎] – Sundari Hikmat's playlist. Expect atmospheric haunting, psytrance, hard techno, some house, R&B, trap, and strange chanting. 🔱

🎧 [ ritual + bone ] [☮︎] – Roxanne Abaza’s playlist. Witchy, just like our girl likes it.

🎧 [ highball ] [☮︎] – The soundtrack for my Parallax AU: Highball.

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

change your mind

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6,575

Read on AO3

Summary:

Five times Eddie Munson asks you to marry him, and the one time you say yes.

Author’s Note: This is meant to be read after “nothing else matters”, but can be read as a stand alone.

Additional tags: rockstar Eddie Munson, high school sweethearts, marriage proposal, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, semi-public sex, idiots in love

— 1 —

It’s the summer of 1984 when you first really meet Eddie Munson.

Sure, you’ve seen him around school. You’ve heard his cafeteria monologues. You’ve even seen him and his band perform at the talent show. But he’s always been just beyond your orbit. The crowd you hang out with the most in school, while not the most popular kids by any means, didn’t typically leave much opportunity for getting to know the leather wearing metal head.

You’re in your backyard, reading a book under the porch light. After a long, hot day at the pool working as a lifeguard, the mild chill of the summer evening is a welcome reprieve. When you look out over the yard, dots of light come and go as fireflies flit about the grass.

It’s perfect.

That is, until you hear a scrambling noise near your fence line, followed by a loud thump and a pained groan. Startled, you jump from your seat and tug open the screen door to the house, reaching in and grabbing the shotgun your dad keeps there.

Gun held in both hands, just like your dad taught you, you tiptoe out into the yard to investigate.

You spot the source of the noise quickly. A lump in the grass, barely illuminated by the light of the moon and your distant porch lights. The lump shifts, rolling over and you catch a glimpse of curly brown hair and pale skin.

When he finally opens his eyes and notices you standing there, gun aimed at him, he scrambles to his knees and holds his hands up, brown eyes wide in panic as he says, “Hey, hey, hey, let’s put the gun down, yeah?”

You roll your eyes, flicking the safety back on and setting it down. “Care to explain why you’re in my yard, then? You gave me a heart attack, Eddie!”

“Hopper caught me spray painting the old mill down the road. Had to lose him somehow.” He stands, brushing the grass off of his black jeans. He eyes you curiously. “You know my name?”

“We go to school together. Of course I know your name.”

“Ah, my infamy precedes me.”

“It’s not infamy, it's your loud mouth in the cafeteria yelling about how ABBA is an affront to music.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Dancing Queen is a good song.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, princess, did I personally offend you?” He asks, voice teasing. “Bet if you listened to the lyrical mastermind that is Ozzy, you would forget all about ABBA.”

“I think Paranoid was better than Master of Reality, ” you reply.

“Marry me,” he says, making you laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles at you, and not for the first time, you think, Huh, Eddie Munson is kinda cute.

“Not a chance, Munson.”

— 2 —

In the fall of 1984, you began your junior year. It had started out just the same as any other year - new classes, same faces. But one face in the crowd caught your eye more regularly.

And you caught his right back.

Sometimes, when you were spacing out during lunch listening to your friends talk about their weekend plans, your eyes would seek out that head of messy curls. And sometimes, you would find that he was already staring back at you.

And that distraction is what leads to him standing from his table without looking and slamming straight into Jason Carver, his lunch tray spilling the Wednesday Spaghetti special all over his precious letterman jacket.

“Watch where you’re going, freak,” Jason shouts, shoving Eddie by the shoulders.

Eddie, being the little shit that he is, just smiles. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, King Jason,” he replies with a sarcastic little bow. “Baking soda should take care of those stains.”

You can practically see the steam coming out of Jason’s ears. Eddie turns to leave, eyes finding yours again, but Jason reaches out and grabs his shoulder, turning him back to face him and throwing a fist right into his jaw.

You’re out of your seat before you can even think about it. Kids crowd around the two boys, chanting their encouragement to fight. Eddie stands back up, ducking another punch from Jason.

You shove your way through the crowd, planting yourself in front of Eddie just as Jason throws another swing that narrowly misses you. “Cut it out,” you shout above the noise.

“Move,” Jason demands, an angry gaze still fixed on Eddie. “What, you need a girl to defend you, Munson?”

And that comment pisses you off. Your dad didn’t spend hours every weekend when you were a young girl teaching you how to throw a punch for no reason. Your arm winds back, fingers curled tight in a fist that you let fly right into his nose. He stumbles back, hands flying to his face and coming away covered in blood.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says behind you. “That was awesome.”

Principal Higgins charges through the crowd. He takes in Jason’s bloody face, and turns to you and Eddie. “Detention. This afternoon.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off with a hand and a sigh of your name. “I will deal with you two later. Mr. Carver needs to see the nurse.” With that, he leads the school golden boy out of the cafeteria by the arm.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie says. You turn to face him as the students disperse back to their seats. You can feel their uncertain glances bouncing off your back.

“Yeah, well. Jason’s a dick,” you mutter. You don’t give him a chance to reply, heading back to your table to grab your backpack and head to class before the bell rings.

___

After an hour of staring at a chalkboard in silence, Mr. Clark, the hefty P.E. teacher with the shiny bald spot, finally dismisses you and Eddie from the classroom.

You’re out of your seat like a rocket and halfway down the hall before you hear Eddie’s voice call out behind you.

When you turn to face him, he’s grinning ear to ear. You can’t imagine why - you’d just spent an hour being tortured by silence. He holds a hand out, and you look down at the twisted piece of straw wrapper pinched between his fingers in confusion.

“Marry me?” Eddie asks, reminding you of the night that he’d fallen into your backyard and asked the same question.

With a laugh, you take the ring and slip it onto your ring finger. “Not a chance, Munson,” you say with a wink, turning on your heel to leave.

“I’ll change your mind!” He calls out after you.

— 3 —

It’s February in 1985 when Eddie Munson first asks you out.

He’s been leaving you notes in your locker every week for the last few months. Sometimes it's an actual note, his messy handwriting detailing some crazy story he’d come up with for his Dungeons and Dragons club, or asking you a series of questions that you’d reply to with a note of your own, slipped into his locker in between classes.

Other times, it's a drawing. While his handwriting leaves a lot to be desired, his artistry is impressive. One such drawing was a vase of sunflowers, which you had off-handedly mentioned as your favorite. You’d stuck that one to your locker door with a matching magnet the same day.

One day, however, you approach your locker at the end of the day to find a crumpled brown paper bag stuck to the metal door with duct tape. Opening it, you find a cassette tape in a plastic cover, the track list scribbled in familiar handwriting.

It takes you all of three seconds to realize most of the songs are off of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid album, which makes you smile like a fool.

Later, in the privacy of your room, you play the songs on a low enough volume to not wake your dad, sitting near your speaker to catch the lyrics. It’s a little after 11 p.m. when you hear a tap at your window.

You push the curtain aside and jump slightly in surprise when Eddie’s grinning face stares back from the other side of the glass. You lift the window open to whisper, “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, I got something to show you,” he says, his whole body moving with barely contained excitement. “But we gotta go, like, now.”

“Eddie, it’s almost midnight,” you say by way of protest.

“Exactly, come on, we don’t have a lot of time.” He leans through your open window, looking you head to toe. “Put on a sweater and get your shoes on.”

Confused, but intrigued, you do as he says. He helps you through the window before you slowly close it, careful not to make too much noise. You follow him to his van that he’s parked a little ways down from your house.

“Where are we going?” You ask, stepping quickly to keep up with his longer strides. He opens the passenger door for you, shutting it as you sit in the seat without responding. His van smells like weed and cigarette smoke, but not overwhelmingly. It’s almost comforting.

He turns the van on, pulling away from the curb and heading north, towards the dense woods surrounding Hawkins. He’s got the radio turned low, a Metallica sound filling the silence around you. His fingers tap to the beat on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything.

You drive like that for a while, heading further out from Hawkins to where the town gives way to dense forest and the inky black sky lights up with more stars than you get to see back at home. Eddie pulls off to the side of the road, near a field that borders the roadway before it disappears into towering pine.

He hops out of the van and runs around the hood to open your door, holding a hand out to you. It’s so dark you can barely see anything as you drop down from the passenger seat, clinging to his hand. He brings you to the back and opens the van doors, revealing a pile of blankets that you hadn’t noticed during the drive.

He turns to you, a hand running through his hair as he says, “There’s a meteor shower tonight. It starts in-,” he checks his watch, “-thirty minutes. I thought, maybe, we could…watch it. I got us some Red Vines, too.”

You blink rapidly, your brain trying to catch up. “A meteor shower?”

“Yeah. Heard about it on the radio. This should be a pretty clear place to watch it,” he says. “You said your favorite book is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy because you like the idea of traveling through space. I don’t have a starship, so the meteor shower is the compromise.”

“I can’t believe you remember I said that,” you tell him. You’d mentioned it off-handedly in one of your replies to his notes.

“I remember everything you tell me,” he replies easily, shrugging like it's no big deal.

“This is….so sweet, Eddie,” you tell him honestly. He lets out a breath, like he’d been nervous about how you would respond. You can’t imagine why.

Doesn’t he know you’ve been halfway in love with him since pointing a shotgun at him for interrupting your reading?

He grins, bright and happy before hopping up into the pile of blankets and situating himself. He pulls out the aforementioned bag of Red Vines and pats the space beside him. You clamber up into the spot, sitting cross legged with your knee touching his and sending sparks across your skin at the contact.

He holds a bright red rope out to you and you take it happily, munching on it as you stare up at the sky. A streak of lights moves in your periphery and you jump in excitement. “I think I saw one!”

Your eyes are glued to the sky as the intermittent streaks of meteors slash through the darkness, but Eddie watches you instead.

He pulls another Red Vine from the pack, tying it in a knot with a small loop at the end.

“Marry me?” He asks, holding the makeshift ring out to you.

“Not a chance, Munson,” you reply, making him laugh. You bite the candy from his fingers with a grin.

“I’ll change your mind,” he promises for the second time.

— 4 —

It’s the summer of 1986. You’ve graduated high school and Eddie finally has as well, by the skin of his teeth and maybe with a little help from you on his homework.

College wasn’t really in your cards financially, so you’re working at The Hideout as a bartender on the weekends and at a record store throughout the week. Eddie, on the other hand, has been focusing on making music for Corroded Coffin between shifts at the factory where his Uncle Wayne also works. You still live with your dad, but you don’t mind it. He gives you enough privacy and is often away on construction jobs around the state for long periods of time.

On one such occasion, blessed with an empty house, you ask Eddie to come stay with you.

You’ve been dating since he took you to watch the meteor shower. It’s your first relationship, your first boyfriend, your first everything, really. Eddie is sweet, attentive, caring, and hasn’t once pressured you into anything you’re not yet ready for.

But tonight, you’re ready. You are so, so ready.

The pizza has already been delivered. You’ve rented Back to the Future for the third time, which means neither of you would be missing out if you happened to be busy with…other activities. You’ve got a box of condoms stashed in the couch cushions, just in case.

There’s a knock at your door and you swipe your sweaty palms on the fabric of your dress, the cute red sundress that’s been known to make Eddie’s brain short circuit.

You pull the door open to Eddie’s smiling face. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I got that wine you like. Don’t know how it’s going to pair with pizza.” He leans forward to kiss you, a soft peck to your lips in greeting that already lights up your nerves.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the bottle from him. You move aside to let him in, shutting the door behind you. He turns, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you until you're pressed tightly to him.

“This dress,” he murmurs, running his nose along your neck, nipping at the juncture of your shoulder. “This dress drives me crazy.”

You hold back the whimper of need lodged in your throat as he peppers you with little kisses, fingers curling against your ribs. He pulls away before it gets too far, just as he always does, and you mourn the loss.

You follow him to the kitchen and set the wine next to the pizza box. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Your dad got any beer?” He asks, taking a seat at the table and flipping the box open. “Oh, pineapple!”

You grab a beer from the fridge for him and a glass for the wine. As you’re walking past, Eddie grabs your hand and gives it a little tug, guiding you until you’re sitting on his lap.

“You okay?” He asks, one hand on your back and the other just above your knee, his calloused fingers lightly gripping the bare skin of your thigh.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re okay. You’re acting a little funny.” His brow furrows in concern as he searches your face. “Do you not want me to stay over anymore?”

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I want you to stay.” You take a breath. “Do you want to eat the pizza in the living room? We can start the movie.”

He regards you for a moment longer before shrugging and saying, “Sure. Lead the way.”

He grabs the pizza box while you get plates. In the living room, you press play on the VCR before taking a seat beside Eddie, leaving a few inches between your bodies out of nervousness, hoping he doesn’t notice.

But he does.

He frowns at the space before glancing at you, while you resolutely stare into the pizza box like it holds all the answers in the universe.

Look, the fact of the matter is, Eddie is more experienced than you and the knowledge of that leaves you torn. On one hand, you’re glad to (hopefully) be going into this with someone who knows what he’s doing so that you’re not just fumbling in the dark.

On the other hand, you’re scared to death he’s going to think you’re some boring virgin. You don’t think he would. It would be wildly out of character for him to be cruel like that. But there’s still a tiny part of your stupid brain telling you otherwise.

And you know he’s into some heavy stuff. You’ve snooped through his room before, found the copies of Heavy Metal magazine that featured women bound, gagged, blindfolded. Bent over with red hand prints blooming on their asses. Knelt on the ground in front of some faceless man, doe eyed expressions tilted up in submission. Seeing all of it had made you squirm, skin going hot at the thought of Eddie doing any number of those things to you.

Until you remembered that you’ve never even had sex yet and can’t possibly live up to that sort of expectation. You stare blankly at the TV as you have your internal struggle, the images of Doc and Matt McFly on their wacky adventure not even registering as you bite into your pizza.

“Alright,” Eddie says, snatching the pizza out of your hands and tossing it back into the box sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey!” You protest, gaping at him. He lifts you by the waist until you’re in his lap for the second time that night, legs spread on either side of him. It’s not an unfamiliar position - you’ve had plenty of heated make out sessions sitting just like this. The edges of his belt buckle press into your belly as he grips your hips.

“Come on, spill it. What’s the matter?” He asks, face serious as his brown eyes search yours. His fingers inch up, digging into your ribs, making you giggle and squirm over him. “What’s got you so tense, baby?”

Rather than answer, you grip his face in your palms and tug his lips to yours. He’s soft at first, tentative like he’s unsure this is the right course of action to take when he’d been trying to get to the bottom of why you were acting weird. But he’s only human, after all, and when your lips part to allow his tongue to tangle with yours, his reservations fly out the window.

You’ve kissed boys before, but it’s never been like this. Never been all consuming, like you can feel him with every cell of your being. You shift in his lap, pressing as close as possible. Eddie’s hands land on your hips, stilling your movement as he pants against you.

“Christ, you gotta slow down,” he bites out, teeth gritted. His eyes are dark and half-lidded with lust, a look you’ve seen only in flashes before one of you pulled back for a breath.

“I don’t want to slow down anymore,” you whisper.

His eyes go comically wide. “Are you sure?”

In response, you grip the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head and dropping it to the floor behind you. You fight the urge to cover yourself, feeling more exposed than you ever have as his gaze roams your body, taking in your breasts in a simple cotton bra and the high cut panties to match.

“Ed—“

Your voice cuts off in a yelp as Eddie flips you onto your back on the couch cushions, his body wedged between your thighs as he looks down on you with a smirk. He licks his lips as he trails a hand from your neck, between the valley of your chest, over your tummy. Your muscles clench and you feel the pinch of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, voice deeper than you’ve ever heard. He plants a kiss to the spot near your ear that’s extra sensitive. “How’d I get so lucky, huh? Pretty thing,” he coos. Your eyes go wide and your mouth goes dry at his words, and you try to lift your hips for some friction to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

He continues to plant kisses down your neck, nipping the thin skin with his teeth. The pain makes you bite out a labored curse that makes him chuckle.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he says. “I’ll give you everything your sweet little brain can come up with.”

“I want…I want you to touch me.”

“I'm already doing that. Try again.” One of his hands slides under your back, nimble fingers popping the hook of your bra. “And be very specific.”

Your cheeks burn as he gazes at you expectantly. “I want you…to touch me down there.”

“Oh? Here?” He runs his thumb over your clit, the sudden sensation making you cry out. “You want me to touch your pretty pussy?”

You feel like you’re in danger of spontaneously combusting with how hot you feel all over. All you can do is nod vigorously as Eddie curls his hands into the waist of your panties and tugs them down and off your legs.

“Hold your legs up for me,” Eddie says, grabbing your hands and positioning them beneath your knees. “Let me get a good look at you.”

He leans back, down exactly that, staring down at your exposed body with reverence. You try to close your legs, but his hands on your thighs stop you as he makes a disapproving noise with his tongue.

“Good girls do as they’re told, princess. You wanna be a good girl for me right?” He asks, tone condescending in a way that makes a new wave of lust wash over you. With a whimper, you nod in reply. “Words,” he demands.

“Y-yeah. I wanna be a good girl,” you whisper.

“You wanna be my good girl,” he clarifies.

“I wanna be your good girl.”

“Christ.” He leans forward, grasping your face in his hand and kissing you senseless. He pulls away all too quickly, planting frantic kisses to your neck, shoving your bra out of the way to palm your tits, alternating between circling one hardened nipple with his thumb or his tongue. Your back arches and you squirm beneath him.

“You’re a little sensitive, aren’t you?” He asks, that mean tone back in his words.

He doesn’t wait for your reply as he moves on, those lips trailing down your tummy until they’re nipping and kissing at your inner thighs. He brings his thumbs to your wet heat, using them to spread you open before dragging his tongue through your folds.

“Eddie!”

“Fuck ,” he groans, tongue circling your clit in a maddening rhythm. He alternates between the sensitive nub and dipping the tip of his tongue into your entrance.

You’re pretty sure you’re having an out of body experience. His mouth feels so good, pulling every drop of pleasure possible from your body. All the blood rushes from your head and you writhe beneath him in desperation.

There’s a firm pressure at your slick hole and your eyes pop open, your head lifting from the couch to watch as he slides one finger into you until his ring is biting against your hot flesh. Your mouth drops open and his eyes lift to yours, his face damn near unrecognizable as he thrusts the digit in and out of you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he bites out. “I’m going to add another finger, and you’re gonna come all over my hand and my face before I give you my cock.”

“Oh my god,” you say, the words breathless and needy as he slips another finger in, the stretch a slight burn that subsides quickly. His fingers curl and drag against something that makes you cry out. And when you do, he smirks, lowering his face to tongue your clit in tandem with the thrust of his hand.

You come with a shout, the noises of his hand lewd and wet as he works you through it. Your hands slip from your legs, unable to hold up the dead weight of them as you shake beneath him.

Eddie leans back, standing from the couch and scrambling out of his clothes in a way that would be comical if your brain wasn’t turned to mush. But as he tugs his pants down his thighs, your brain suddenly catches up with the program and you drink in the sight of him greedily.

The lines of compact muscle, the contrast of his tattoos against his pale skin, the light dusting of hair at the top of his chest and the matching trail that leads to…

Holy shit.

His cock is hard, an angry red at the head that looks almost painful. You have nothing to compare him to besides your own fingers but you know damn well that he’s thick and long enough to make you nervous.

He joins you on the couch, one knee planted to the cushions between your legs. He fists his length, giving it a leisurely pump as he stares down at your boneless body.

“There’s, uh, condoms. Behind the cushion,” you tell him, the words making you blush for what feels like the millionth time that evening.

“Oh? Did my sweet, innocent little princess prepare for this? Did my little slut want my cock so bad tonight?” He asks. Your eyes go wide and a moan claws up your throat. “Ah, she likes that, huh?”

You nod vigorously. He reaches a hand behind the back cushions, fishing for the box. He pulls a foil package out of the box and tears it open. “Eyes on me,” he says as he rolls the latex over his cock.

He plants a palm beside your head, his other hand gripping his cock and guiding it until the head is positioned at your weeping entrance. “This might hurt a little, baby. You gotta tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft. With a sweet kiss to your lips, a juxtaposition to the man who’d just called you a little slut. He presses forward, the blunt head of him slipping inside you with little resistance.

There’s a bite of pressure as he moves forward, your body giving way to the intrusion with a slight sting that subsides a delicious fullness. He pauses once his hips are flush to yours, a hand coming up to brush across your forehead, moving the sweat slick strands of hair from your face.

“You okay?” He asks. You nod, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, smiling into it in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Eddie holds himself like that for a while, kissing you and letting you adjust. When the burn subsides and you’re just left with a slight ache and a new sensation of fullness, you shift your hips slightly under him.

He draws back slightly, the drag of his cock making you gasp and all the breath leaving your lungs as he drives back in. He sets a pace of short, hard thrusts that have you digging your nails into his back, dragging them down and leaving blooming red trails in the skin.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you mark me up however you want,” Eddie grunts. His thrusts become longer, deeper, more of a roll of his hips than a pound. A hand circles your throat, the grip gentle as his fingers press into the sides. “Sweet little angel, gripping my cock so tight.”

“Oh god,” you cry. Eddie leans back, the angle growing deeper. He brings his other hand to your lips, three of his fingers slipping inside your mouth. You run your tongue over the familiar calluses and he groans low in his throat.

Those spit slick fingers leave your mouth and he circles them over your clit roughly. “I want this little cunt to give me everything.”

With a whimper, the tightening of your belly releases in a wave, surprising you with its ferocity. The sensation is so unlike any of the times you’ve spent in the dark, your own hands exploring your body.

Eddie thrusts a few more times, his tempo stuttering as he chases his own release. He stills against you, hips pressed tightly to yours as he moans your name.

He pulls out of you, twisting to the side so that he’s lying sandwiched between your body and the couch so as not to crush you. He throws an arm over your waist, burying his head against your neck with a satisfied sigh.

“You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Munson,” you say. He laughs against your cooling skin.

“Would show you a good time for the rest of our lives if you’ll marry me,” he replies.

You huff out a little laugh before saying, “Not a chance.”

“I’ll change your mind.”

And not for the first time, you realize he’s right.

— 5 —

It’s the summer of 1990, and Corroded Coffin has a top hit on the radio and their first big gig out on the road tonight in Chicago.

You’re backstage at the venue, sitting in the green room and watching Eddie pace nervously. He looks especially fuckable, to the point you’re having trouble concentrating on his anxious monologue.

Denim battle vest, the same one that’s served him since high school, draped over his bare shoulders and exposing the muscle of his biceps and tantalizing peeks of his abs and chest. His hair is the longest it’s been but still the messy curls you love to run your hands through. He’s applied a smudge of eyeliner around his eyes, making his brown eyes larger and more hypnotizing.

Dear god, you’re going to combust.

“Are you even listening?” He asks, stopping dead in his tracks with his hands on his hips.

You smirk at him. “Not really. I already know you’re worrying about nothing. I’m just thinking about how fast I can make you come before you go on stage.”

His mouth drops open in surprise, but his eyes go dark. “Get in the bathroom. Now.”

You hop up from the ratty couch, sliding your hand over his stomach as you pass and throwing him a wink. He follows in behind you, shutting the door forcefully and flipping the lock.

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and pulling you into a bruising kiss. On a breath he murmurs, “I love you.”

“Love you more, Munson.”

“Now get on your fucking knees.”

You drop like a rock, the linoleum cold against your knees, the fabric of your fishnets uncomfortable ywhere it presses against your skin. Eddie unbuttons his fly, pulling his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans. He grips the bottom of your jaw in one hand and growls out, “Open your mouth.”

You do as you’re told, sticking your tongue out and waiting for him to slide his length into your waiting mouth. He taps the tip against your tongue, teasing you, before he slips it past your lips and into the wet heat.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie whispers. “Just like that.”

You let Eddie set the pace he needs, both of his hands digging into your hair in a tight hold as he uses your mouth. You’ve got spit leaking out of the corners of your lips and your eyes are watering from the lack of air, but you just look up at him through your lashes and moan.

“Christ, you have no idea, no idea , what you do to me, princess,” he groans, his head dropping back, hips moving faster but more shallowly.

There’s a hard knock at the door and the band’s new manager, Steven, calls through the flimsy wood, “You better get your ass out here, Munson, you’re on in five.”

But Eddie just keeps going, ignoring the man that holds the power to make or break his career in his hands, growling out, “Eyes on me.”

Your lashes are sticky with tears and mascara as you look up and watch him unravel, the ecstasy running across his features making your core clench. His release hits the back of your throat and you swallow around him.

When he’s done, he pulls you up by the hair, gripping your chin and hauling you into a rough kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth even as it tastes of him.

He pulls away, his thumbs swiping beneath your eyes to clean up the black streaks left by your mascara. “Marry me?” Eddie asks, and you smile at him.

Another knock sounds at the door. “Alright, lovebirds. Two minutes.”

“You better get out there and knock ‘em dead, Eds,” you murmur, leaning your forehead against his.

“Just for you,” he tells you with a wink, pulling back to right himself in his pants. He flips the lock on the door and pulls it open, the dark bathroom flooding with light.

The rest of the guys are crowded in the green room and Steve looks at Eddie and rolls his eyes. “Finally. Alright, boys, let’s show ‘em what you’ve got.”

He leads them out of the room and to the stage and you trail behind, finding a spot stage right to watch from the wings. Your face hurts from smiling so hard, watching the same boys who used to play in a garage playing on a stage in front of a crowd screaming along with them, for them.

“You’ve been an amazing crowd, Chicago!” Eddie screams into the mic. The answering roar is deafening. “We’ve got one more song and it’s a brand new one.”

A melody you don’t recognize fills the concert hall. The intro is heavy on Eddie and Jeff’s guitars and as Eddie begins to sing, Frankie and Gareth join in.

I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy

I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need

I love you more with every breath truly, madly, deeply do

I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on

A new beginnin'

A reason for livin'

A deeper meaning, yeah

Eddie’s face is tilted in your direction as he sings, eyes finding yours as he starts in on the chorus.

I wanna stand with you on a mountain

I wanna bathe with you in the sea

I wanna lay like this forever

Until the sky falls down on me

You smile at him, your eyes stinging at the emotion welling in them.

And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky

I'll make a wish, send it to heaven and make you want to cry

The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty

That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection

Of the highest powers

In lonely hours

The tears devour you

And devour you they do.

— +1 —

Eddie’s got one hand on the wheel and the other in the pocket of his leather jacket, fingers running along the sharp corners of the box he's hidden away in there.

You’re beside him in the passenger seat, practically bouncing in excitement. It’s 1991, one year to the day of the release of Corroded Coffin’s first hit record. They’ve been on one tour already, but he’s home for a three month stretch and now that you’re both in a good place financially, you’re looking at houses to buy to get out of the little two bedroom apartment you’d been renting.

“This is so exciting,” you say for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, Eddie grins at you. “Our first house!”

“I feel like we did this backwards. Should we have bought a house before buying a dive bar? Is that the normal order?” You’d used a portion of your savings to buy The Hideout from Hank, who finally retired to Florida content in the knowledge that the bar was in the safe hands of the girl he’d begrudgingly hired fresh out of high school and couldn’t shake himself loose from.

You smack him in the arm. “Shut up. Who cares. You’ve always done things your own way. Why stop now?”

“You’re right.” He grabs your hand, planting a kiss to your knuckles.

“I hope this one is nice,” you comment, staring out the window. Eddie smiles to himself.

He’d picked this one to go see. In fact, he’s already been to it and immediately placed an offer on it. You think you’re meeting up with a realtor, but the keys dangle from his key ring already.

Eddie pulls up to the little three bedroom, two bathroom ranch situated about five miles north of The Hideout. The lots are large, the homes bordered in the back by thick woods. The one he’s purchased is a deep navy blue with a bright red door and he watches your eyes take it in.

“Oh, it’s adorable,” you say wistfully. You jump from the passenger seat, looking around. “Where’s the realtor? You told him noon, didn’t you?”

“Oh, we don’t need a realtor,” Eddie says. You tilt your head at him, brow furrowed. “I bought it.”

“You bought it?”

“Yep.”

“You bought a house?”

“Yep.”

“You bought this house?”

“Sure did.” He holds the key up to you. “Go ahead.”

You snatch it from his hand and run up the front walk, shouldering your way in. Eddie trails it behind you and watches as you run from room to room, your smile growing bigger and brighter with each pass.

“This closet!” He hears you shout from the master bedroom. “It’s bigger than our bedroom at the apartment!”

He chuckles as he goes to the living room and stands in the center, lowering himself to one knee and pulling the ring box from his pocket. He settles in to wait for you to find him.

It doesn’t take long. You tear into the room, speaking a mile a minute about how you want to decorate, but you stop short when you see him there.

Eddie swallows nervously. He’s asked you to marry him since the first time he’s met you, and you’d always told him, “Not a chance.”

Over time, the exchange became more synonymous with any other couple saying “I love you” and “I love you, too”, just with your own flair.

But now, he means it. And he lifts the lid of the box to show the plain silver band sitting in the velvet. “Hey, princess. You ready to change your mind?”

You rush towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and toppling the two of you to the ground in a heap. You grab his face, kissing him deeply.

“That a yes?” He asks when you break apart, breathless and panting.

“It’s most definitely a yes, Munson.” You grin at him as he lifts your left hand and slips the ring onto it.

Right where it belongs.

[gloomysoup]

@steddie-week day 4 | prompt: trade | rating: gen | word count: 858 | tags: one-sided steddie, borderline stalker behavior honestly (on eddie's part) | ao3

(i know i'm behind. we're ignoring it, right? life has been life-ing, and i have been struggling..)

how i fell in love with you

Several years ago, Eddie was asked a question.

“If you could trade places with anyone else in Hawkins, no holds barred, who would it be?”

Eddie’s answer had come easily back then. Steve Harrington had it easy. Two parents, a nice house, money, popularity. He never had to worry about paying the electricity bill and affording food for the month. He had other rich friends, and a guarantee to go to college on his daddy’s dollar. Who wouldn’t want to trade places with Harrington?

It wasn’t until about two months after spring break of ‘86 that Eddie started to learn that Steve Harrington’s life wasn’t quite as glamorous as he always thought it was. Steve didn’t talk much about himself. Eddie noticed that pretty quickly. Any question about himself would almost instantly transition into something about someone else, usually Robin. Steve liked to talk about Robin. It always happened so smoothly that, most of the time, no one even noticed he never actually answered the question.

Steve Harrington was good at pretending. So good, in fact, that it took Eddie a while to even realize it was happening. When he did notice, though, he was determined to get down to the real Steve. It turned out to be harder than he expected. Steve was very much a closed book. He didn’t share anything with anyone; well, except maybe Robin, but Eddie knew she wouldn't say a word. Eddie had to go straight to the source, even though he knew the source would be very uncooperative in his investigation. He had to play it smooth, careful. Hide his true intentions as deeply as he can, lest Steve catch on and shut down again.

It took several more months of slightly shady investigation for Eddie to get much of anywhere, honestly. It was a slow game, and Eddie was in it for the long haul. His sheer determination truthfully concerned Wayne, who told Eddie several times that he should just mind his business.

“If Steve ain’t told you anythin’, it’s pro’lly ‘cause he don’t want you to know.”

Eddie ignored Wayne, obviously. He never was very good at listening to authority. He kept investigating, keeping a little pocket-sized notebook of ‘Steve Harrington Facts’. He wrote down every little thing he learned in the hopes of connecting some dots down the line and discovering the real Steve. It contained everything from favorite foods to common phrases to the little, mundane, subconscious stuff he did. Like, for example, he always puts his right shoe on first. Every time. He always wears socks, unless he’s going for a swim, and he flicks his fingers five times after washing his hands before reaching for a towel to dry them.

Eddie hadn't even realized he was falling in love with Steve until it was too late. He was in too deep, ass over tits for Steve Harrington in a matter of months. Ready to spend the rest of his life with the man, if he'd let him. Eddie Munson was a coward, though. He didn't say anything. He couldn't. And the more he learned about Steve, the further he fell. It was the little things, really, that made him love Steve. Everything in his little notebook swirled together to create someone Eddie couldn't stop himself from loving even if he tried.

Slowly, as he found himself drifting further and further into Steve’s orbit, he learned the deeper things. The things Steve kept hidden. The things that really made Steve who he was. He learned about his parents, and the way his relationship with Nancy affected him. He learned about the migraines, and the buzzing in his ear that he never told anyone else about. He learned why Steve gave up weed, and how he didn't smoke cigarettes as much as he used to anymore. Robin didn't like it, so he tried not to smoke around her. And still, the more Eddie learned, the more he fell in love.

Steve Harrington was a complex person. He was made up of so many layers. Way more than Eddie ever thought before he got to really know Steve. He lives his life for other people, for the kids and Robin and even Eddie. Everything he does, he does with someone else in mind. He's selfless to a fault, never even considers himself before making a decision. He cares. Steve Harrington cares so much about his friends that he would do anything they asked with very little complaint. He's protective and strong and brave. He's never afraid to step in if someone is bothering Robin on their nights out, or even at work.

Steve Harrington is a wonder, but Eddie knows, deep down, not everything is quite as it seems. No one sees Steve when his parents are around more often, demanding his presence. They don't see the way he scans every room or building they enter. They don't see the way he flinched at loud noise. Eddie sees it all.

Eddie is in love with every part of Steve Harrington. He would trade the world if it meant keeping Steve forever. He's never going to say it, though.

[theriverbeyond]

this is such a random question, but on the subject of theories i was wondering what would have happened if john and the erebos had arrived at the aftermath of canaan house before boe and found the non-lyctor survivors. like would he have just let corona, judith, and camilla go home or get rid of them because they knew too much? is “knowing too much” even a concern for john? for some reason neither option feels totally right to me, but i would love to hear your thoughts!

I honestly think he would let them go home! I think one of John's major flaws is he fundementally both misunderstands and underestimates the people he sees as "his", and I think this does extend into the houses.

I don't think he would see non-Lyctors as any kind of threat, even if he knew that said non-Lyctors had figured out the secret to Lyctorhood. At most I think he would sew their tongues but honestly I think he would take one look at Judith "on life support from catastrophic gut wound" Deuteros, Camilla "catatonic with grief" Hect, Coronabeth "inconsolable because Ianthe age Babs and not her" Tridentarius and be like wow! these kids are having a bad time I should send them home to their parents.

Remember -- if John had arrived at Canaan House before BOE, this is *before* BOE took out 18,000 soldiers with orbital radiation missiles. this is *before* Augustine's betrayal, and Mercymorn's, and *before* the Sixth House defected. The only betrayal John would have felt was Cytherea's, and she failed, and as we see in HtN he mostly pities her.

I do think this could lead to a very interesting AU wherein Camilla is sent home (with the bones in her pocket), Judith is fixed up with proper medical care from the start (and then packed back off to the cohort), and Coronabeth is probably (on request) taken to the Erebos with Ianthe.

I can see this leading to Camilla spending a lot of time trying to free Palamedes' soul while on the Sixth, potentially needing to join the cohort (Alexandrite Cam, anyone?) so she can reconnect with Judith, who despite having several sticks up her ass is the only person Cam feels she can really go to about this (due to them both being the only people left in the Dominicus system who actually know what happened at Canaan House). Maybe Camilla convinces Judith to poke around in the skull bones -- Judith isn't as good as Harrow, but maybe they do bring back some shadow of Palamedes into the bones.

THEN maybe eventually they run into Coronabeth, who perhaps was not allowed all the way to the Mithraeum, but WAS given some sort of very strategic and fancy seat in the cohort so Ianthe can keep tabs on her. A very nepotism hire situation, and despite Ianthe's desire to keep her safe Coronabeth HATES it all because she was once again left behind. When the opportunity to track down Ianthe arises, she takes it.

I see this unfolding over several years post GtN timeline. Perhaps the three of them end up collaborating with other characters along the way that they feel they can trust, some more likely than others -- Mia (Pro's wife) and her children, now grown enough to want more information about their father's death. Ram and Capris Asht, who don't believe that their brother would kill the eighth house heir he had sworn to protect. Kiana can get in here too. maybe the Third house Boy Who Loved Shuttles helps them with a getaway once. Abigail's younger brother, who she named as her heir -- maybe he helps with Palamedes' soul. Jeannemary and Issac's younger siblings. A neo-niner or two -- John renewed the house, and involving a character or three that was ressurected from our modern times would be super interesting and also fill out our merry band. Maybe the neo-niners Remember Things that make Cam connect some dots.

Harrow is still out there, obviously, and in this AU I am imagining Number 7 as NOT speeding up and really taking 5 years to get there, just to even out the time line and allow all that to happen before Number 7 comes and Augustine drowns the Mithraeum.

anyway. events occur, things happen, and intrigue abounds. Alecto awakens, Harrow Remembers, Ianthe doesn't get the girl. Cam is on a warpath. Judith is dragged alongside. Coronabeth isn't going to be left behind again.

what was your question again? this answer has gotten deeply out of hand

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[bropunzeling]

oh mannn inspired by your last ask, we all knows the oilers!matthew takes, but your thoughts on Florida!leon?

the thing is........ a future fic where through the twists and turns of fate leon somehow ends up in florida....... it could be so TASTY. it very much folds into a future fic concept ive been pawing at (and have probably talked about before but guess what and you'll hear it again dot gif):

so. for a while there, they were having sex. a lot of it. the kind of sex you can have with someone whose opinion won't change about you, or so you think -- mean, with an edge. sex that sometimes rode the line of too much, too intense. sex that, as it kept happening, kept creeping closer and closer to exposing a part of leon he wasn't sure he wanted to reveal. and yet he kept doing it. and yet, two years in, he was uncomfortably aware of all the shit he'd do and let matthew do to him.

then: a very messy not actually a break up around the trade (maybe matthew didn't tell leon he was going to leave because, like, it's not like they're together together. maybe it wasn't until matthew left that leon figured out how close to together he thought they were). and of course losing the cup final would only make leon dislike and resent matthew more (made worse by the flicker of softness he can't bring himself to blow out). the point is by summer 2024 leon is pretty sure he hates matthew's guts. would be happy to never see him again.

shenanigans. tomfoolery. leon gets traded somewhere? a couple seasons in the wilderness. the point is it's been a few years -- more than a few -- when he winds up in florida as he tries to chase down a cup. back in matthew's orbit again.

it's brutal, and weird, because it's like -- it's like matthew's managed to move all the way on (which makes sense. he left, after all. he won.) and leon would like to think he has, but quickly realizes that he hasn’t. he doesn't appreciate matthew treating him with such impersonal amiability. he doesn't like when matthew invites him to stuff. he doesn't like the way barkov looks at him sometimes, like he’s in on a secret. he doesn’t like how often he keeps catching himself staring at matthew, wondering if matthew remembers how it used to be. if matthew can still make it so he doesn't have to think anymore.

of course they're going to fall into bed together. and fuck -- it's not how it used to be. it's better -- worse -- it's matthew being careful with leon in a way he never used to, back when they were young, back when leon told himself all that mattered about what they did was if he could still come out on top on the ice. leon wants it to hurt and it does but not the way he remembers it.

even so, he wants to do it again. brings it up the next morning, poking at the bruises on his torso, rumpled and creased in matthew's sheets.

matthew blinks. swallows. says, hoarsely, i don't think we should do this again.

(bc matthew wants to make sure leon can get his cup but leon takes it all the wrong way and they have some horrible cathartic fights before working their way towards something they can build on but also don't worry they'll still have highly undernegotiated weird sex and maybe leon cries!!!)

[laricht]

I share a drawing I made for a Facebook collab. It was a vow renewal with OCs/guest characters, and I made my insert with Kakashi and their little one, Shiov ( ´ ▽ ` )

The theme of the event was space, so here’s a description of the outfits: After doing a bit of reading, I found out about close binary stars. From what I understood, they come in either one or two colors (blue for young, high-temperature stars, and red for older, lower-temperature stars). In this case, I didn’t follow the meaning of the colors strictly, I just wanted to include both to represent them, because in the lore Kakashi and my insert are the same age. The idea is that when these two stars unite and share energy, they create a nova (an explosion), resulting in a young star, which is an analogy for Shiov, the youngest and the only daughter (she’s adopted, just mentioning that so you can get familiar with the lore). That’s why the outfits of both have two types of stars: binary stars (✦), and in Shiov’s outfit, there’s a young star (★). And finally, the little dots represent other celestial bodies in space, and the curved lines are orbits, which are typically drawn like that :)

[todays-xkcd]

Their calculations show it will 'pass within the distance of the moon' but that it 'will not hit the moon, so what's the point?'

Asteroid News [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[Close-up of Blondie as a newscaster speaking, alongside an image to the left of an asteroid passing by Earth. The path of the asteroid is shown as a dashed line near the top-left, with the Moon orbiting the Earth below it.] Blondie: Astronomers initially said there was a one-in-6,000 chance that the newly-discovered asteroid might "do something cool" in 2063, but further observations determined it will be "just a boring dot like all the others."

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Military Industrial Complex

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Summary report of Terran Republic

Homeworld: Terra. Alias: Earth

Territory: 23 Planets 16 Star Systems 54 Orbital Stations 267 Asteroid Mining Operations

Population: 20.9 Billion

Military Threat Level: Red

Technological Level: Yellow

Personal Log from observer Nul Yand

“On the surface the Terran Republic should not even exist.

Their technological level is far below their neighbors such as the Olon Alliance or the Fenrar Empire.

They barely have the means to travel between their worlds and even then it requires months when the previously mentioned governing bodies can do it in days.

The one quality these humans have that has kept them alive for so long is the scope of their military; or more accurately their military industrial complex.

One could be forgiven for equating the two to be one in the same, but the distinction is made quite obvious when dealing with humans.

Their military operates under three branches known as the Fleet, the Army, and the Home Guard.

 The fleet maintains the various orbital and suborbital craft almost completely. This ranges from the kilometer long Kepper Warships to atmospheric attack craft and is the primary partner for the second branch as a means to travel between worlds.

The army is made up of ground forces ranging from standard infantry to heavy mobile assault tanks. During times of war they are the spear tip and conduct numerous covert operations against human aggressors. When these operations are not enough the ground forces are then deployed which conduct full scale planetary invasions or man the numerous defensive forts dotted throughout their territory.

The final branch is the least militaristic of the three but serves a crucial role nonetheless. Home Guard serves as the eyes and ears within the human domain as a sudo military surveillance force. They enforce the laws while also rooting out enemies to said laws such as common gang members to spy’s and collaborators.

All three of these organizations are supplied through what is known as the human Military Industrial Complex.

The MIC is not a single entity but a collection of private corporations, weapon manufacturers, scientific committees, political lobbyists, and countless other unnamed groups who have saw fit not to make themselves known. 

They provide the human military with a near endless supply of weaponry, ammunition, vehicles, ships, and more ensuring that at no time are their forces underequipped.

Research divisions conduct numerous lines of inquiry which include biological and advanced robotics. This has resulted in the military having a wide variety of advanced war machines such as the attack bot 5000, and the UAV dubbed “Seekers” which are capable of tracking down individual targets across an entire planet.

 The biological division has made several advances in medical technology which have equally contributed with the production of Healing Pods which can induce accelerated healing process for even the most injured soldier. On the more questionable front they have also created several strains of lethal viruses to be used against enemy combatants. Rumor is that the Red Vein Plague was one such concoction when the war against the Tumari began taking a turn for the worse against humanity.

With this vast network of resources, the Terran military has been able to adapt to nearly any situation it has faced allowing it to survive even against impossible odds.

When the vast fleet of organic Milnani ships invaded human borders it was expect the human fleets would be wiped out within the first week. The first few engagements resulted in losses, but by the third engagement the humans had deployed new boring missiles that chewed through the thick hide of Milnani ships and dispersed a lethal toxic into the ships bloodstream. Within minutes the ships were violently convulsing as entire portions were torn open from muscle spasms, exposing the passengers to the cold void of space.

When the Tucmal used their advanced weaponry advantage to conquer an outlying colony, the human military dispatched a covert strike team to capture one of the weapon platforms and return it to a research lab on Omega VI. A month later effective shields had been deployed to counteract Tucmal weaponry rendering it useless. A week later the first phase plasma canons were being deployed that could burn through Tucmal armor protecting weapon platforms

When a War Sphere was deployed to obliterate the human homeworld a relay station was deployed to follow it just outside of weapons range. A cryptology team intercepted all incoming transmissions and was able to decipher the communications from the war sphere back to whoever was controlling it thanks to a recently acquired quantum gen III computer and over two dozen alien speakers who had been “invited” to a private facility. The team was able to interject into the transmissions and send a new command to turn around, return to its point of origin, and destroy the planet it came from. They then ordered it to turn off its transmission center so the human command could not be countermanded. In short order the war sphere followed its new directive and returned to its point of origin somewhere in the Ocares Sector.

This shadowy collective has been a backbone of human survival and though many have sought to remove this bountiful source of progress none have been able to completely destroy the MIC. Research groups have been tracked down and their teams wiped out to the man only for another group to take up the notes half a sector away. Factories and facilities obliterated in orbital bombardments were relocated to space stations orbiting no stars in the space between systems off all charts and maps.

It was deemed that only an overwhelming force of unprecedented vastness striking all at once would be sufficient to deal a crippling blow to the MIC. This in of itself however has proved a problem as to gather such a force would almost immediately be noticed and countered before it could even be put into motion.

My recommendation would be to isolate humanity and avoid combat as much as possible.

If conflict is inevitable then it must be prevalent that all significant technology not fall into their hands lest it be deconstructed and used against us.

Only then do we have a slight chance of victory."

[historysurvivalguide]

How Do We Know Planets Aren’t Stars?

We'll start with a strange question, but from Earth, how do we know that one bright dot is a distant star and one is a not-so-distant planet?

Without advanced instruments like telescopes, how can be tell them apart and if there was a new bright dot in the night sky how would be know if it was a new star or a miraculous new planet?

One tool we can use to our advantage is time. Stars transition across the night sky throughout the year in a very predictable pattern, circling around Polaris (the northern star, or specifically, the north pole)

Planets move entirely differently! Sort of!

You might have heard the term "retrograde" before, like "Mercury is in retrograde". Putting aside for the moment how the term is used in astrology, this term simply refers to the idea that in the night sky most objects like stars move in a straight predictable path through the night sky through the year. However, some bright dots don't follow along, they can move back and forward in albeit predictable, but entirely separate ways to their star companions

Here we can watch the position of Venus at the same time every night over a few months appear to turn around!

The term "planet" is from the Greek term planḗtai, or "wanderers" since they move in a wandering pattern around the sky

In fact, this is not a feature of the planet itself, but just the distance that a planet is from Earth. Stars are so far away that their orbits are largely negligible and impossible to see without advanced instrumentation. However, we can literally watch Mars or Jupiter orbit the sun alongside us!

However, two objects orbiting the same point at different speeds due to their distance from the sun creates very strange paths. The outer planet will appear to turn around on its own path and move in "retrograde"

Orbital mechanics can be complex to mathematically predict, but are simple to observe. If you mark the position of a bright possible-planet at the same time every night you will observe it move back and forward along its apparent path

This is also part of the reason for the length of daylight hours on Earth, but we will save that for a future problem. Just know that the as the Earth orbits the sun, the sun's position in the sky at noon will vary and sometimes will be entirely below the horizon

Composite pictures can show how varied this position can be through the year. With a little imagination you can see Earth's orbit around the sun throughout the year!

But you don't have to believe me, try it for yourself!

If you don't have a few months to wait, we can show this would have to be true for any object close to the Earth. If we draw a circle around the Sun that represents the Earth and split it up in any equal parts (for example below 16) we can compare that to any other orbit. Jupiter is far enough away that the same 16 time intervals it won’t move as far in its own orbit. So drawing a line from Earth to Jupiter we can see where its position will look like from where the lines intersect. We end up with the apparent path of Jupiter from Earth’s perspective!

So, we can tell a planet apart from a star based on its visible path through the night sky

For now, our solution for what is a planet relies on a planet being:

Not the sun

Visible in the night sky

Close enough to the Earth that it will appear to move in retrograde motion